Chapter 01 - Fates Collide
…
"GET OUT OF THERE, KID!"
Screaming tires and shattering glass answered the teen's cry, followed shortly by wails of horror and disbelief. In the chaos, a young boy calmly collected his ball and slipped away with no one the wiser.
The others were rather occupied at the moment, after all.
"Shit! He's dead! Holy shit, he's dead! Where'd he even come from?! Fuck, he's DEAD!"
"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! We have to call someone! The cops! An ambulance! Something!"
The little boy smiled as their howling built and built, a young man's broken body bleeding into the pavement between them. As the young, frantic couple screamed at each other, the hidden little boy grew, becoming taller. Older. And with it, his eyes grew even more vicious.
"And so the first spark comes alive," the man whispered to himself, a dry, twisted laugh beginning to bubble up in his throat.
"May these flames find kindling … and may Order burn!"
Cackling wildly, the man disappeared, leaving chaos to roar in his wake.
… … …
He didn't know what he expected when he opened his eyes. A hospital ceiling, he supposed, if he was feeling particularly lucky. Maybe the flames of hell, if he was being more honest with himself.
Some sort of shadowy, demented subway tunnel … not on the list.
"What … the hell … happened?"
He rubbed his head, trying to recall. He remembered … a road. Headlights. A kid running into the street. Anger. Pain … then nothing. Not until this … whatever this was.
"Goddammit! This is bullshit!" he shouted, cracking his knuckles. "I don't know who's responsible for this, but someone's gonna pay!"
Ahead of him, some of the shadows flowed together, fluid and thick like oil. They formed a shape, vaguely like a man, but almost without form. Except for the white mask. Simple, yet sturdy, it seemed the only solid part of the being.
But that was all he needed.
His roar filled the tunnel, and the mask cracked like thunder beneath his fist. The oily shape was thrown back, bursting open like a rotten melon. And more shapes rose from the mess. Solid and tangible, they looked bizarre, yet fully formed.
Even better.
The air filled with the sound of combat. A roaring teen and howls of pain. He snorted as the last of them fell, rubbing his fist with a sense of bored satisfaction. He didn't feel better. Not yet. But it was a start.
As he stood there, more shapes formed from the shadows. He counted two masks. Four.
He grinned. Maybe he'd have a chance to fully vent after all.
It didn't take long before his violent stroll along the haunted subway tunnel brought him to a set of stairs leading to a higher platform.
"There better be someone waiting at the top of this," he growled, striding forward into the darkness, "cause I want some fucking answers!"
… … …
"Welcome back, Trickster."
He blinked, frowning as he processed the familiar sight of his prison cell. Familiar … but unexpected, to say the least. Rubbing his face, he sat up slowly, wondering if this was a dream. Well, an actual dream.
The cell didn't vanish, though, and his clothes didn't change, and they were definitely not what he was wearing when he went to sleep last night.
Well, this can't be good.
With a relenting sigh, he climbed to his feet, absently tugging at his crimson gloves as he strode through the open door of his cell.
"What the hell is this, some kinda magician?! This is who you've had me kicking my heels waiting for?!"
He drew up short, the gentle, familiar ambiance of the Velvet Room utterly shattered. Cocking his head, he stared blankly at the intruder. Wearing a violent expression and a baggy, bright green school uniform, this stranger with slicked green-black hair looked every inch the delinquent student, in his own not-too-uninformed opinion. As for what he was doing here at the crossroads of the human consciousness …
"We appear to have had a … development," Igor stated unnecessarily, rubbing his long nose and shifting uncertainly behind his heavy, oaken desk.
"You're damn right you have!" the stranger barked, rubbing his stained knuckles. "And you better have a plan to un-develop things, and fast!"
"We will, of course, do all we can to right these wrongs," a girl's dreamy, ethereal voice assured him. "That is what our beloved Trickster does best, after all."
The speaker, a young girl with silvery blonde hair and a deep blue dress, smiled proudly up at him, fingers idly tracing the cover of the enormous grimoire she carried. Young as she was, she should have looked terribly out of place surrounded by chains and empty cells, but frankly, the whole place looked so bizarre that her strangeness made her seem oddly fitting.
"Yeah? And what's he gonna do, pull a rabbit out of a hat?" the loud-mouthed youth demanded, studying him with an appraising eye and, apparently, feeling unimpressed with his findings.
Rolling his eyes, Joker decided his attention was better suited elsewhere. Turning to the Velvet Room's Master and Attendant, he raised an eyebrow expectantly.
"Yes … well … there appears to be a considerable disturbance in the fabric of our new guest Yusuke's home world," the Room's oddly villainous-looking master answered first, straightening his tie nervously. "In turn, this has, quite remarkably, brought him here … somehow."
Joker blinked, working through the old man's words. His 'world'? As in …
Seeing through his speechless confusion, the Room's diminutive attendant stepped in to clarify.
"Innumerable worlds can be found along the sea of human consciousness," she explained. "Some are so similar as to be near reflections of one another. Others are so different as to be virtually unrecognizable as human. Such is the disparity of human imagination."
"Yeah, yeah, can we get a move on? Dead men have no patience and really short tempers!" Yusuke intruded, folding his arms gruffly.
Once again, Joker's eyes widened as he processed what was said.
"Yes, I was getting to that," Igor defended, still seeming in no hurry at all to delve into whatever this new mess was. "Our new guest here appears to have found himself, well, slain. Oddly enough, though, all indicators suggest that his death was truly unnatural."
"What killed him?" Joker spoke up at last.
"A motorized vehicle. I believe humans call it a 'car'," Lavenza supplied.
"Fuckers," Yusuke muttered darkly.
"Actually, it seems I was mistaken. Please forgive me," Lavenza interrupted, consulting her enormous tome. "It appears that our guest here actually drowned to death when his body was dumped into the sea. My apologies."
That seemed to take the wind out of Yusuke's sails. His jaw worked silently as he stared aghast at the little girl calmly sealing her book, appearing utterly indifferent to this ghoulish news.
Joker, of course, had only one thing to say.
"Bummer."
"Hmm? Yes, I suppose it is," Igor commented flippantly, seeming no more unnerved by the news than his young attendant. "Of greater interest, though, is that this death appears to have been unscheduled."
"'Unscheduled'?!" Yusuke choked out, looking like he might just swallow his tongue. "You mean you sick fucks actually-"
"No, no, it's nothing like you're thinking," Igor headed him off. "I suppose 'unfated' might be better suited here. However it was that you died, it appears to have been rather different from the end you were originally headed for. How different, I couldn't say, but different, it certainly was. Hence, our issue."
"What issue is that?" Joker asked, more than a little confused.
"Human lives are driven by their choices," Lavenza explained. "These choices may appear unpredictable, but in truth, they are irrevocably informed by the person's history and their circumstances, and so a person's life can be expected to follow certain paths. These paths can bend and shift as people do, but the path itself remains, and together, all these paths weave the fabric of human experience. Or, in other words, Fate." She frowned, shaking her head. "At least, they should."
"But not Yusuke's," Joker finished for her. "But why? What's different here?"
"To be frank … we haven't the faintest idea," Igor confessed, spreading his hands helplessly. "Why is this one human's Fate so different than what was expected? What could have brought his soul here, to my Velvet Room, instead of letting it pass on as humans do? What other distortions are present in his world to have led to this, and what else might they lead to?" Folding his hands, Igor straightened his back and met Joker's gaze evenly. "In times such as these, who else are we to turn to besides the Trickster?"
"And you want me to do what, exactly?" Joker asked, feeling just a teensy bit out of his depth with all this talk of other worlds.
"We wish you and Yusuke to travel back to his home world, and there, we humbly ask that you uncover the source of these distortions, and correct them," Lavenza intoned, voice cool. Even so, her delicate brows furrowed with guilt and uncertainty. "We know this is a great deal to ask of you–you, who have already done so much for so little reward–and yet, ask it of you, I fear we must."
"Indeed we must," Igor agreed, and with far less reservation. "These distortions have already brought one unexpected visitor to the Velvet Room. What other distortions might be occurring throughout the Metaverse? How far will they reach? Will even shadows find their way into our sanctum? No no no. This all must be stopped, and soon, or else I fear for the sanctity of human cognition."
Joker sighed, rubbing a hand down his face tiredly, the edges of his mask digging into his glove. He'd thought his days as a phantom thief were well behind him. He'd thought it was time for him to be getting on with a normal life. Time for friendships, and studying, and finding his place in the world.
Time for Ren Amamiya.
"Well, come on, then," he told Yusuke without preamble, already striding towards the exit, appearing like a swirling vortex of red and black just beyond one of the doorways.
The boy stared at him, blinking in confusion. "You … Just like that?"
"Just like that," he answered simply, smirking faintly. "Or is your schedule too full right now?"
"... I suppose I could pencil you in," Yusuke answered, studying him intently, as if no longer quite sure what he was looking at.
Igor barked out a laugh. "How wonderful. As always, you do not fail to disappoint, Trickster. Truly, we could not have asked for a better champion."
"Yeah, yeah," Joker brushed him off casually. "Now, are we doing this, or what?"
This time, it was Yusuke who laughed as he strolled up beside him. "What's your hurry? I'm the one who's turning into fish food here." At that, he paused, turning back to the Room's denizens. "Speaking of, you guys gonna be able to fix that? I ain't headed back just to become a horror movie reject, you know."
"Fret not. You shall find your body quite alive and unharmed upon your return," Igor assured him. Though, he did mutter to himself, "The effects upon your spirit, however, remain to be seen."
"Well alright! Last one in's a rotten corpse!" With that, a laughing Yusuke dove into the vortex, his form appearing to bend and distort as it vanished.
Straightening his gloves once more, Joker began to step after him, only to draw up short as a tiny hand tugged at his sleeve.
"I truly am sorry we had to ask this of you, Trickster," Lavenza said, somehow sounding very small in that moment. "It is unjust. You have already fulfilled your duties, and most admirably, too! This should be your chance to rest on your laurels and enjoy a life well earned. You should … you should …"
With a start, Joker realized the aspect of Strength was actually crying. Kneeling, he brushed a tear from her cheek, raising her chin to make her meet his eyes.
"This is who I am, Lavenza. This is what I do," he told her softly. "If people out there need me, I can't just ignore them. It wouldn't be just. It wouldn't be me. All that other stuff can wait."
Golden eyes met his own, tears still flowing. Setting down her book, she flung her arms around his neck, burying her damp face in his coat.
"Thank you … Ren."
After a moment, he closed his arms around the tiny attendant, one hand gently smoothing her hair.
"Anytime … Warden."
With a faint, wet chuckle, Lavenza drew away, trying to hide her damp, red face by fussing with her book.
"You have served the Velvet Room most faithfully, Trickster," she announced, still hiding her face. "It shall never be forgotten."
Chuckling, he stood, idly patting the top of her head, and ignoring how her face reddened even further at his touch. Raising his eyes, he nodded to Igor, receiving a deep nod of gratitude and respect in return.
Stepping away, he studied the vortex, felt the tendrils of his very self stretching out like hair rising in a thunderstorm.
His crooked grin was broad and deep.
"Showtime!"
Stepping forward, he let the portal swallow him, and so changed the fate of worlds beyond counting.
… … …
Ren's cognition swirled violently as he traveled. Memory, direction, sense of self … all of it seemed to swell and distort as he was pulled to this strange new world. Even as things seemed to settle, he still felt … strange. Off-kilter. Despite this, he couldn't stop himself from inhaling deeply, eager for his first taste of air on an entirely new world.
The water that flooded his lungs was a decidedly unwelcome surprise.
He grasped at his throat as his lungs heaved and spasmed, trying to pull in air, and drowning him in the process. He flailed about wildly, trying to find the surface, and having no idea what way was up.
His hand brushed something in the water. Something small and metal. Lungs screaming in agony, he opened his eyes, squinting painfully at whatever it was he hit.
A can, he thought, tumbling about aimlessly in that dark water. However, as he forced his limbs to go still, the can seemed to drift down and to his left.
Gotcha.
Spinning himself about, he quickly passed the can by, hands brushing more and more strange objects as he desperately pulled himself towards the surface. No time to investigate. He needed air. He needed it now!
As his head broke the surface, he struggled between trying to vomit up gallons of putrid water and dragging honey-sweet air into his heaving lungs.
So caught up, he barely noticed as he drifted into a sandy shore, bits of garbage clinging to his skin and bobbing about around him. Flipping onto his back, he simply let the water wash over him, staring almost numbly up at a gleaming sunrise.
I made it. I'm in a new world.
Dry, manic giggles worked their way out of his chest, the sheer lunacy of his life threatening to overtake him.
Luckily for him, he was about to be very distracted.
A wild, barbaric scream jolted him to his senses. Heart pounding, he scrambled to his hands and knees, head whipping about as he sought the source.
Is this it already? Are we under attack?
Following the ululating cry, his eyes drifted up and up, past towering mounds of refuse and broken machinery. There, astride the highest tower of junk, stood Yusuke, clothes shredded and bloodstained, hair sticking wetly to his forehead, but with his head thrown back, he still roared that primal, joyous scream of life.
Gradually, his lungs ran out of breath, his scream devolving into gasping, frantic giggles of exhilaration. Brushing his hair back, he stared gleefully, almost challengingly, at that gleaming dawn.
"I'm alive," Yusuke panted, still grinning wildly. "You hear that, fate?! I'm still here! And I'm not going anywhere! You got a problem with that?! Then come at me! I'll take you on myself!"
Still laughing softly to himself, Yusuke fell back on the top of the battered refrigerator somehow perched atop his mountain of garbage, basking in the pure joy of being alive.
Ren almost hated to intrude on his moment.
"Nice place you have here," he commented, kicking a deflated basketball into a half-stripped washing machine. "I see where you get your sparkling personality."
Propping himself up on his elbows, Yusuke stared down at him as he'd completely forgotten he existed.
"Magician?" he called down in a voice of pure disbelief, scanning him from head to toe. "Here I didn't think you could look any stupider."
Blinking, Ren looked down at himself … and grimaced.
Gone was his Joker attire, though that was no surprise. In its place were simple sweatpants and a t-shirt. No shoes, of course, seeing as he was wearing what he put on to go to bed. To make matters worse, garbage clung wetly to every inch of him.
Gagging at the smell he suddenly couldn't ignore, he began peeling himself free.
"Not my best landing," he muttered, pulling a shredded grocery bag out of his shirt. "But it's not like you're looking any better if you haven't noticed."
Busy extracting himself from an empty frame for a dog door, he almost missed the lack of response. Looking up, though, he started at seeing Yusuke had disappeared.
Cursing, he stumbled free of what he dearly hoped was an empty litter box, winding his way through the labyrinthine garbage dump he'd found himself in.
The sight of clear, untainted streets on the other side was as welcome as the fresh air.
The sight of Yusuke casually strolling away, he wasn't quite sure how to feel about.
"Oy!"
Yusuke barely reacted to his shout, nor to him sidling up beside him.
"So … that eager to get to work, huh?" Ren asked, already dreading the answer.
"What work?" Yusuke asked, confirming his fears.
"You know, distortions, fate collapsing, people dying when they shouldn't … ringing any bells?"
Yusuke eyed him, amused and unimpressed. "From what I heard, that's your job. Don't see how it has anything to do with me."
"Except for, you know, your death!" Ren pointed out in exasperation.
"Yeah, but I'm all better now, so as far as I'm concerned, that's the end of that. I'm going home. You do what you want."
Ren stared at Yusuke out the corner of his eye, trying to find an angle. He needed this guy. There was no way around it. He didn't know this world, and he had no idea how it might have been distorted from what it should have been. His only lead was Yusuke.
"... What about payback?"
Finally, Yusuke's stride broke, even if just for a moment, but with a somewhat forced laugh, he resumed his casual stroll.
"Against who? The guy who ran me over? I was the dumbass who dove into the road to try and save that little kid." Ren stared at him, not having heard that little tidbit before, but Yusuke wasn't done. "Besides, I'm back now, aren't I? Live and let live, I say."
Now, Ren's stare grew flat. Even having just met the guy, he could already tell that was bullshit.
"WHAT'RE YOU STARING AT, HUH?! WANNA SEE HOW WELL MY FIST FITS YOUR FACE?!" Yusuke suddenly bellowed at a couple walking down the opposite sidewalk, staring and muttering at the sight of two bedraggled teens in tattered and, in Yusuke's case, bloodstained clothes.
Ren smiled, even as the couple squeaked and began hurrying on their way without looking back. As he thought, Yusuke wasn't nearly as laissez-faire about this whole thing as he was letting on.
"What about whoever made them hit you?"
Finally, Yusuke drew to a halt.
Got him!
"The hell're you talking about?" Yusuke demanded, a fire in his eyes.
"Well, think about it. Whatever these distortions are, there's no way they're natural. Someone is making these changes happen, and that includes what happened to you. It wasn't just a car accident. Someone murdered you, Yusuke, and odds are, they barely even gave you a second thought when they did it. You were just one more piece of trash for them to toss aside."
For several long, silent moments, Yusuke simply stood there, head low and face unreadable. Ren held back a smile. Finally, he had hi-
The world shattered as something struck him, everything spinning around him until something broke his flight. Pain lanced through his face as his senses returned, followed quickly by the warm feel of blood dripping down his face.
"God, people like you piss me off," Yusuke growled, stalking into the alley rubbing his knuckles. "'Oh, look at Yusuke the meat-head. A few fancy words should be enough to make him do what I want!'" Stomping his foot down on the trash by Ren's bloody face, he leaned down low and scowled. "You know what I do to people like you? I kick their asses until they learn better. Want a demonstration?!"
His head felt like it was splitting, but even so, he grinned up at Yusuke. "Why not a deal instead?"
Yusuke's scowl disappeared, leaving him looking poleaxed.
Spitting out blood, Joker leaned closer, smirking maliciously. "You beat me, I leave you alone. You get to go home with your new life and never see me again. I win, and you work with me to stop these distortions before your world is swallowed up. This is the contract I offer you!"
Yusuke stared at him blankly for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. "Man, you're something else! You get your ass rocked, and right away, you're like, 'Please, can I have some more?'"
Still guffawing, he stepped back to let Ren climb to his feet. Ren did so, making a show of brushing fresh garbage off his clothes to hide how unsteady he was.
For crying out loud, what do they feed this kid?! He hits like a truck!
"Well? You sure you're up for this?" Yusuke asked, chuckling as he stretched his shoulders. "I'm still feeling a little pent up, so don't expect me to go easy on you, alright?"
"I think I can take it," Ren responded blandly, his throbbing jaw making a mockery of his words.
Damn! Is that a loose tooth I feel?
Yusuke barked out a laugh. "Well, you've definitely got guts. I'll give you that. So, you ready?"
Hell no!
"Bring it," Ren answered with a grin.
… … …
The man who stumbled into the alley would have drawn eyes wherever he went. Normally, this would have been because of his impeccably tailored suit and hat. Now, it would have been because of how that suit was scorched and tattered, barely holding together in places.
Frankly, he was almost as outraged at that as he was at his injuries. One's image formed the foundation of their power, and his had been defiled. His heart raced in his chest, sending rage-filled blood coursing through his body and leaking out of his wounds. His teeth gnashed, starving for vengeance.
He breathed deeply, ignoring the flare of pain from his ribs as he slowed his heart rate. Vengeance would be his, in time. First, though, came the assurance of his survival. That is what separated animals from gods.
His fury tempered, he finally noticed that the alley wasn't as unoccupied as he had expected. His first thought was self admonition. He truly was growing lax if he was so unaware of his surroundings. They might have been enemies for all he knew! Once more, his temper flared, and was forced down. All things in their proper time. Always.
With the distant sunrise barely beginning to lighten the shadows, he blinked as he watched two bedraggled teens do battle. One, wearing a battered green uniform in almost as poor a state as his own clothing, clearly held the offensive edge despite being at least a full head shorter than his opponent. With furious shouts and wild, rage-fueled swings, he attacked the other relentlessly, obviously no stranger to brawling.
However, the other, barefoot and lean, dodged and swayed out of the way of the other's attacks with a skilled, uncanny grace, clearly doing nothing to help the other's temper.
"God dammit! Stay still and fight, you coward!"
Suddenly swinging a broken board at his barefoot opponent, the green one seemed to be left speechless as the other effortlessly leapt into a one-handed backflip to avoid it.
"Hmm? You were saying something?" the tall one asked with a cheeky grin.
Growling viciously, the green one redoubled his attack.
Clinging to the shadows, their unknown observer tapped his chin thoughtfully. Whoever these two were, they seemed to have quite the fighting spirit despite their youth. With the right direction, the green one's fury could make for a potent weapon, especially with some proper power behind it. The other, though, with his arrogant swagger and calculating eyes …
Sighing regretfully, he let his idle planning fall to the wayside. Remarkable lieutenants they might make, especially the tall one, but needs must always come before wants, and right now, he needed something far more precious than servitude, and quickly. The rising sun made sure of that.
Straightening, he pulled what was left of his suit straight, ignoring his wounds. Dignity must always be maintained as best one could, even in front of prey.
"Alright, I've had enough!" the green one screamed, not even noticing their silent audience prowling closer.
"Oh? Sounds like I win, then," the other replied with a twisted grin. "Glad to have you aboard, Yusuke!"
"Keep dreaming, bud!" the one apparently named Yusuke shouted, bracing his feet and raising his hand, thumb raised and index finger outstretched like a gun.
For the first time, the other drew up short, staring nonplussed at the other's posture. "Uh … what?"
"Oh, you'll find out in a second," Yusuke promised with a cocky grin of his own. "Don't worry; you'll live through it. You'll just have one hell of a headache when you wake up!"
As the tall one eyed the other's hand warily, the one boasting of victory noticed their approaching onlooker at long last. "Private party, pal! Find yourself another alley!"
Spinning around, the tall one finally noticed him as well … and immediately stepped back, hands raised and expression guarded as he glimpsed the man's eyes.
Slowing, he forced the look of ravenous hunger from his gaze. In these dim shadows, perhaps it would be mistaken for a trick of the light. The tall one appeared unimpressed by his carefully cultivated expression of civility, though, seeming even more guarded than before if possible. Clearly, his instincts were finely honed and deeply trusted.
Even more the pity he wouldn't survive the morning. He had potential.
"Forgive me, but would one of you young men happen to have a phone on your person? I was recently mugged by some villainous ne'er-do-wells, and I think I require medical attention."
The tall one maintained his guarded expression at his story, suspicion in his eyes. Gritting his teeth, the man groaned softly and clutched at one of his wounds in a barely feigned expression of pain. Suspicious or not, his current appearance certainly fit his proffered story. As long as he gave his suspicions no further grounding, the boy would surely drop his guard in a moment, even if hesitantly.
It rankled that he even needed such a pretense, but caution was never unwise, and if the shorter boy indeed possessed a ranged power of some sort, then it was in his best interest to play this farce through to its conclusion. At least, until the other lad came a bit closer. Thankfully, the green-clad boy seemed the epitome of brawn before brains, so it would surely take but a moment.
"... Really? A mugging? That's your story?" the violent one asked, voice wry and unimpressed.
Frowning, he looked from one teen to the other. Who were these kids?
"I'm … afraid I don't understand," he finally said, making himself waver on his feet unsteadily.
"That's okay. I'll lay it out for you," the green-clad thug replied with an arrogant, condescending tone that made the man's depleted blood boil. "Muggers try to beat you until you hand over your valuables. They don't put you through a frigging shredder, and they certainly don't stab you in the heart. Which you survived how, exactly, Mr. Innocent Victim?"
Blinking, he and the tall one both looked down at this shredded suit, which showed a gaping, blood-stained tear over the left side of his chest.
Chuckling, the man straightened, his wounds easing closed at a thought. With his blood loss, the effort left him feeling thin and hollow, like he was made of spun glass, but hiding that unfortunate fact was as easy as remembering just who and what he was, as well as what these two were.
"Children," he mused aloud. "They certainly raise them smart nowadays. How dreadfully foolish." This time, he made no effort whatsoever to hide the slavering hunger in his slanted eyes, watching in grim satisfaction as the tall one danced backwards, readying himself for a fight … futile though his efforts were.
"Smart children forget their place," he continued, flesh swelling and changing beneath his rags. He snarled at his own weakness as that damn hollow feeling grew sharper, but the look of alarm in the tall one's eyes … that was more than worth it. "They forget to fear the monsters under their bed. They forget the true destiny of the weak before the strong." What towered over the two boys no longer even resembled humanity, all teeth and eyes and hunger.
With over a dozen drooling maws, he smiled.
"They forget they are destined to be PREY!"
The roar that left him sounded like a starving beast, and like a beast, he lunged, clawed tendrils snapping like whips as they reached for his latest victims. His stomach growled with murderous hunger as he preemptively savored their rich, vigorous blood. Already, he could feel his strength retur-
"SPIRIT GUN!"
A wave of force ripped through him like a tidal wave through a shanty. A dozen throats howled as he burned and ripped and bled, his flesh shattered and disintegrating beneath the absolute torrent that poured from the green thug's finger. Utterly astonished, a thin, small part of his mind watched as the torrential blast buffeted the alley, shattering windows and flinging his ashes skyward. Panicking, he clung fiercely to what scraps he could, feeling rather like someone trying to seize a few tufts of grass while a tornado ripped him into the sky.
All this in a moment, and when it passed, precious little of him remained. A few scraps of flesh and a splash of blood, quivering and all but helpless. His consciousness fading, he eased those scraps through a filthy sewer grate, resolving himself to picking off rats until his strength returned.
Damn brats, he fumed weakly. They'll pay for this indignity!
His last cognizant thought for some time was a drooling fantasy of his revenge … and his lust for the green thug's power.
One way or another, they hadn't heard the last of Muzan Kibutsuji. He'd make sure of that!
… … …
Groaning, Ren shrugged a broken pallet off of him. Climbing free of yet another pile of garbage, he stared wide-eyed at Yusuke.
"What … the hell … was that?!" he demanded, horrified gaze dropping to the smoking tip of Yusuke's finger. "Were you just pointing that thing at me?!"
Yusuke's gaze joined his own, appearing no less astonished as he stared at his trembling finger.
"I … that … it's my quirk," he choked out brokenly, looking more unsure of himself than Ren had yet seen, even when finding out his still-breathing body had been unceremoniously dumped in the ocean. "But it … it's never been … you know … that!"
Scrubbing his hair, Ren mouthed the word "quirk" while gazing around at the alley. All told, there was surprisingly little damage, though a tangled pile of dumpsters and garbage all but walled off the far end of the alley, and broken glass glittered everywhere like twinkling stars.
With a sudden start, Ren lifted his bare foot gingerly, preparing for a sudden rush of pain from his inevitably glass-riddled skin. However, his stare grew flat as he found unbroken skin. With uncertain fingers, he brushed pieces of glass free. Still, no blood.
Come to think of it, he'd climbed barefoot out of that garbage dump, too. Surely, there should have been something. A scrape. A bruise. A tetanus-filled hole. Anything! But there was nothing.
It's just like …
"Hey … is it just me … or is the alley gettin' all swirly and stuff?"
Jolting back to the present, Ren watched Yusuke collapse to his knees, and even then, he swayed as if about to fall further. Ren started towards him, but paused at the sight of the strange man's shoes, lying tangled up and vacant in a nearby pile of refuse. After only a moment's hesitation, he grabbed them.
Hopping awkwardly, he tugged them on while trotting towards Yusuke. The shoes were fine leather, somewhat worse for wear after the day's adventures, but still intact, and better yet, they fit. Tough skin or not, he felt better with shoes on his feet. At the very least, he'd draw fewer eyes, he was sure.
Upon reaching Yusuke, he realized how pressing an issue that was. Already, he could hear shouts and sirens past the barricaded mouth of the alley. No matter how common powers–quirks, he reminded himself–were on this world, no one could turn a blind eye to Yusuke's little display. Frankly, he was surprised there weren't a dozen people sticking their heads out of the shattered windows along the alley and demanding to know what the hell was going on.
Or … maybe it wasn't so surprising, now that he thought about it. They were probably all still ducking for cover.
And, of course, calling the authorities.
"Come on. Up you get," Ren told Yusuke, slinging his arm over his shoulder and heaving him to his feet. "Time for us to get gone, I think."
"Yeah … good idea," Yusuke mumbled tiredly, without a single barb or protest, which said volumes of just how utterly exhausted he must be. Head bobbing as if struggling not to pass out, he hobbled along placidly as Ren swiftly led him out of the alley and down the sidewalk. Away from the sirens.
Grinning, Ren couldn't help himself.
"Well, it looks like I officially won this fight, seeing as I can stand and you can't," he pointed out cheerily. "I look forward to working with you! Oh, and please, call me 'sir' like a good underling, won't you?"
Eyes bulging in outrage, a half-conscious Yusuke did his level best to glare murderously at him.
It was adorable.
"Like hell … you won," he growled piteously. "Gimme .. five minutes … of shut-eye … and I'll kick your ass …"
"Of course you will," Ren said warmly, every inch the humoring parent playing along with his child's fantasies. "Maybe next time, we'll even get a little trophy made up, and afterwards, we'll take all your friends out for pizza to celebrate!"
"Eat … shit … and die …," Yusuke mumbled, eyes drifting shut.
Chuckling, Ren simply limped on, his only ally slumped over and barely conscious.
"Eh. It's a start."
[End of Chapter 01]