Thank goodness the desktop version on mobile works again, so I can cyberbully scammers on my phone instead! Yippee /s
— ML
P.S. Literally 2-3 days later: 404 ERROR BRUH :D At least I'm COVID free
Jerza did something cool the other day. I thought my little audience would like to know about it. Some unsolved problems deserve closure that rarely happens in the real world.
UPDATE 18 April 2025: B R U h. The app was genuinely tweaking today and erased everything I typed through the fucking morning! I did not mean to post a premature chapter full of crap and errors. XD
Chapter 24: How Could I...?
March 23, X792, Too Early for Jerza's Liking
Central Tower in False Line City-Guild and Academy, False Line City
Meetings, meetings, nagging, and more meetings. Same round table, same room, same old geezers.
Another day for Master Jerza FDS of Titania Devil meant another day surrounded by mindless monologues about boring news.
Around her sat the usual troupe: Master James Deus of Pheasant Peak, Supreme Penelope Saylor of Phantom 13, Master Mephistopheles of False Line, and her brother Amaimon. Technically, he was always supposed to be physically present.
That lousy shut-in normally sends one of his gadgets to observe us instead. I can't stand that ugly face sitting next to his Candy Land copy...
On most days, the head of security was too busy surveilling thousands of prisons with his team to participate in meetings. However, he was presenting his most recent prototype of surveillance technology, shaped like a fly. It was equipped with upgraded audiovisual features activated by movement or sound. A prisoner might think that the obvious solution was to stay quiet or hidden should they find out how the device worked. But these devices were often invisible to folks around them because they don't always need to move.
When one happens to catch and kill a surveillance fly, its "bodily fluids" would dissolve the entire device. Many species of insects rapidly dissolved when they died. This device could go undetected by prisoners, and folks could not weaponize such delicate tech against guards. The flies would also dispatch themselves without a warden (like Jerza) having to lift a finger.
This invention is so stupid. It's too small, too easy to destroy, and creatures will eat them at any time. Jerza covered a wide yawn, making no effort to suppress her audible disinterest.
"Jerza, I don't remember asking for an insertion of your post-breakfast breath," Amaimon said pointedly.
"Ah, but your six-legged fiend could really use a good boost of my peach vanilla smoothie," the strawberry-blonde replied just before yawning again. Penelope faked a cough behind her cloak to hide her chuckle. Mephistopheles slapped her hands on the table, standing up.
"Were you even listening to a single word, Titania?" the horned demon glared across the table. Jerza stood up as well, easily overshadowing the shorter guildmaster. James and Penelope quietly exchanged looks. They knew this was the intended reaction.
"Of course, but I will not bother with repeating Amaimon's words like a broken record. This prototype is a work of shit for brains and a colossal waste of money."
The head of security looked like Jerza had taken a dagger straight to his chest.
"What did you say, you ginger gorilla?!" he snapped back. Her dull brown eyes burned into his droopy dark green orbs. His elf ears dropped, instantly regretting his insolence.
"I-I mean, uh..."
Good. He still remembers his place at this table, Jerza smirked to herself.
"Waste. Of. Money," she hissed through her teeth. She grabbed the model fly from the air. Her hand flew faster than the prototype could react. She squashed it in her clenched fist. Amaimon's mouth hung open in shock.
"M-my work," he mumbled in despair as a thimble of orange blood vaporized. James was next to cough awkwardly into his elbow.
"Oh, would you look at that? 600,000 Luba, gone in seconds," the strawberry-blonde remarked sardonically at the green-spiked demon's expense. Amaimon plopped down in his chair, dropping his head on the table.
"Please, tell me this was your only waste of the Queen's funds."
"I... uh, made 59 more," he mumbled.
"Exterminate them at once," Jerza snarled with a show of her canines. He squealed in terror, hiding behind Mephistopheles.
"You said she'd like the idea, Mephisto!"
"Did I say that?" the female snickered at Amaimon's devastated look.
"Yes, you fucking idiot!"
"Destroy them all RIGHT NOW!" Jerza bellowed over the siblings' quarrel. Amaimon shrank lower behind his older sister. Mephistopheles burst into laughter, slapping her knee. Penelope facepalmed as James also tittered softly.
"My, my, never a dull morning here," the Pheasant Peak guildmaster commented.
"Jerza, it is much too early to raise your voice," Penelope added.
"Grrr! DISMISSED!" Jerza shouted, storming out of the room. Candy Land's obnoxious laughter echoed from that cursed room. She needed a smoke break, or Mephistopheles's head would go through the wall for wasting her time again on a useless prank.
She pulled a key out of her pocket. This was one of many magic keys that limited travel by foot to simplify navigation in Mephistopheles's hideously constructed city-guild island. Jerza only wished she had the authority to demolish one-third of it to save the hassle.
She inserted the key into a random door handle, turning it. She walked into an empty floor just below the rooftop of Southern Central Tower. There were four central towers in four corners of the island and one in the center, where all of the project council meetings and operations were conducted. The South Central Tower roof was her preferred smoking spot with a perfect view of the Scarlet Desert facing the sunrise.
She power-walked down a quiet hallway, simmering over the thought of what she'd do to get back at Mephistopheles if given the chance.
That freak will stop at nothing to insult me. I cannot stand her idiotic bloodline!
Jerza looked up from her silent fuming. Someone hid themselves just around the corner up ahead. She did not sense a threat of any kind. She sniffed the air, approaching the spot.
"Come out, come out, wherever you..."
She grabbed the edge of the wall, looking over. A human child no older than 14 or 15 immediately ran.
"...Are."
A head of pinkish-blonde hair flew down the hallway by the time she stepped into view. The foolish little boy believed he was fast enough, but Jerza was faster. In a matter of seconds, the boy cried in terror as the stoop stomper grew hotter on his heels, cape flying in the wind.
"HAVE MERCY, PLEA—ACHK!"
He choked on his own voice when she snatched his collar, sending the rest of his body jerking forward. Having finally been snatched up, he gave up on escaping, thinking that this was it. He was doomed to be eaten or punished by this inhuman monster. Jerza tilted her head to the side with narrowed eyes.
"Children are not allowed in the Central Towers," she said. Her eerily calm voice sent visible shivers down the boy's spine. She turned him to face her. The left side of her creepy face bore two eyes that looked poorly airbrushed into place. The top eye was perfectly even with the other eye. It was a drooping lower eye that looked awful to him. His scared violet eyes looked left and right, anywhere but at her face.
"M-M-Miss Scarlet, I..."
"Master Scarlet, Sen Kirigakure." She dropped the student, and he landed on his butt.
"Ow," he winced, rubbing his rear as he climbed to his feet. "I'm sorry, please don't eat me."
"I don't eat brats, especially not human brats," she muttered distastefully. "How did you get in here?"
"W-we were practicing teleportation spells on objects in class, and my sis—er, sibling, Shura, uh... zapped me here?"
"Humph. Twin squabbles. Likely story," she grumbled. The boy hung his head.
"And I'm lost."
"Lost as a fish in a shark's territory."
"Sh-sh-shark?" he squeaked anxiously.
Jerza looked behind her, at the windows to their right, then ahead at the end of the hall. None of her senses were disturbed by any approaching demon folk. No cameras, obviously. She unzipped a leg pocket on her cargo pants, took out a magic key, and then unlocked a door to her left. The boy's eyes lit up when he recognized the key.
"You have a Jack Trade key! But how?" he asked.
A Jack Trade key takes the holder anywhere within the island and False Line City on the ground. The only folks who possess a Jack Trade key are Mephistopheles, Anaimon, and a select few that were authorized by Mephistopheles.
"Shhhh!" Jerza sibilated with a gloved finger pressed to the boy's lips. She leaned in close, whispering, "I "borrowed it" from the city-guild master." The boy's jaw dropped. Did a councilman just confess to a crime?!
Are all demons this crazy?!
"T-thank you, Miss Jerza!" he exclaimed with a low bow. She returned the gesture only halfway before opening the door. Sen walked through the door straight into his classroom.
Jerza made sure to cover the left side of her face behind her hair before peeking inside. Some humans were too skittish around demons that looked less than human. Her face would definitely make at least one human brat cry.
She scanned the classroom and spotted Shura pouting in a chair in a front corner of the class, wearing a 'DUNCE' cone hat. She waved with a nervous laugh. Other students gasped. Shock, a little bit of fear, and awe were the usual reactions to a dark guild master randomly paying human children a visit.
"Ah, so that's where he went," the instructor mused. Jerza assumed the instructor was referring to a Central Tower, judging by the creature who returned his student.
"I would advise against teleporting living beings as a prank, Kirigakure. He could have landed with a sharp flagpole lodged into his face," Jerza said, glaring at the child. Shura stiffened her posture. She knew better than to endanger someone for laughs; no additional comments were necessary.
An episode of American Horror Story: Coven showed teleportation as one of the Seven Wonders of a Supreme. A character died spawning on the gates, which had pierced her chest in around two or three places. How original, ML.
A few students looked rather terrified when Jerza said that. The Titania Devil guildmaster was happy to instill fear in young minds. She did not so much as look at the instructor or anyone else before leaning out of the doorway.
She shut the door, locking it again. Turning on her heel, the strawberry-blonde marched the other way, slipping the key back into her pocket.
One upside to cargo pants: many places to hide goodies.
Jerza's mellow demeanor soured at the sight of a head of dark shit-green hair sporting an equally shit-green spike not too far ahead.
... Great.
Amaimon waved her down from further down the hall. He stood in the doorway of a closet full of cleaning supplies. The male demon established only a few places outside the realm of his security radar. They exclusively existed in the form of little closets containing unused junk so that they remained inconspicuous. No one knows why he designed them. Closet sex? Exchanging classified information?
No matter. She wondered what he wanted this time, having just cried like a baby mere minutes ago.
She stepped into the closet he hid in, easily taking up the majority of the little space. Fortunately, she decided not to wear armor today, opting for simple black casual clothing and a nice cape. Still, she might as well have elbowed him in the head due to how close they had to stand. The seven-foot demon looked down at her shorter peer. He made sure the door was locked from inside.
With a stern glare, she asked, "What do you want this time?"
"It's about subject seven-two," he answered. "The paternity and DNA test results of the collected evidence finally got back to me. It didn't take long to find the two suspects. And I now know which one is directly related to the child."
Jerza sort of listened as he described them. In the system, one was nicknamed "Ding" and the other was "Hawk." Their real names were easily forgotten, but she certainly remembered their faces.
As soon as Queen Dominique gave her the authority to conduct her own investigations of crimes committed against prisoners and subjects, the warden worked tirelessly to cleanse the entire system of its most rotten seeds, starting with the lowest predators.
These brutal offenders did not deserve proper descriptions in writing, in her opinion. All that mattered was that yet another couple of scumbags would be found and dealt with by Jerza and Amaimon (mostly Jerza).
Around December, Jerza was given the power to execute whomever she wanted. On 27 December X791 (X792 was an intentional mistake in chapter four), seven inmates were put to death for sexually depraved behavior. I'd say about 94 had been exposed and discarded in the span of two months. I've been too preoccupied to count the rest.
"My goodness, this adds up to 113 now. I still do not get enough praise for breaking the cycles," the strawberry-blonde grumbled, crossing her arms.
"The subjects can't know you have a single nice trait, or else they'd stop being scared of you. And if that happened, you would complain about it," Amaimon snickered. "In this line of work, people have to fear you in order to stay in line. Duh!"
"And if the predators fear me, they might just get creative hiding their deviance," Jerza frowned.
"Hardly anything will escape my radar now that the current audiovisual security was updated," the green-haired demon smirked. The security in question was practically invisible. They were technically still bugs, but they did not interact with the world like normal bugs. They kept records and took cover.
"Where are the current suspects now?" she asked.
"I told them you requested them for a private meeting at the human training facility at midnight," Amaimon smiled mischievously at her. "Private meetings are pretty common with council members, so they won't suspect a thing." She raised a brow.
"What will the meeting entail, Master Scarlet?" the head of security asked.
"Hmm... I have been getting rusty with my target practice."
"I'll make sure the training room is booked for the night. As always, I will use my sister's sound-blocking spell around the perimeter. Don't make too much of a mess this time."
"You know I can't promise that."
"Pretty please, for the staff's sake?" he begged with his hands clasped together. "If I have to clean up another slaughterhouse, I'm gonna lose my freaking mind!"
If you don't remember how the rest of that morning council meeting went, refer to chapter 22, where Penelope was a total troll, and Kyôka talked to a human without malicious intentions.
Four Hours Later, 2:00 p.m.
Jerza finally left the Central Tower after the last meeting. Going back to that room after her short recess was a major mistake after Penelope started babbling about a dead blue cat.
'He looked so happy to see me,' that damn Reaper said.
Jerza could not figure out why that irritated her so much. She had never owned a blue cat. She hardly even liked domesticated pet creatures. But something in her wanted to pummel the Supreme into the ground for daring to mention it.
The Titania Devil guildmaster made her way to the small training facility. As promised, Amaimon made sure that not a single creature entered the building for the rest of the night. His aforementioned soundproof spell eliminated all noise outside the perimeter of the facility. The lights were low inside. And with the added darkness of the Black Qora season, the whole area looked devoid of activity.
Jerza rarely used this facility because she kept breaking equipment and smashing baseball-sized holes through the walls in the pitching lab. The few demon students who used this equipment were also too strong for this human-designed facility.
Creatures like her went to alternative locations for demon-designed training of their choosing. Mephistopheles was generous and accommodating to all her students.
She walked up the stone steps to the set of glass doors. She tried one door handle, opening it with ease.
Her boots were the only sound that echoed down the dark halls as she made her way to the basement floor. Down there, folks trained the basics of their instincts with simple pitching machines and baseball bats surrounded by walls of safety nets.
Jerza preferred to use the stairs instead of the elevator. In the case that folks were talking downstairs, she would be able to eavesdrop without the elevator activity disrupting her hearing. And sure enough, two voices were chatting casually.
"So, whose kid do you think it was?"
"It's got your eyes and skin color. It's pretty obvious."
"Che! Whatever. I doubt we were the only guys getting action. You know what kinda money we missed out on, keeping it to ourselves?"
"Forget it! We make plenty as guards, you dumbass."
Jerza clenched her fists, taking slower, smaller steps towards the staircase door to the basement lobby. Her ears heard nothing but the men. The virus was even worse when no one was around to keep them in check.
Keep talking, you lecherous maggots.
"Best part about a female with horns? You get to grab 'em from behind, and they're too busy screaming like ferals in heat to stop you!"
Grabbing someone by their horns is painful, you brute.
"Hawk, keep your wet dreams about Mephisto to yourself."
"Oh, please. You use whips when you're fucking, but I'm going too far by mentioning some horns?"
Jerza felt her lips curl back in a grimace, broiling from her murderous thoughts. She was close to popping a vein in her neck, fighting the urge to tear them limb from limb. She relaxed her hands, shoulders, and jaw. The bristling ceased.
They will not sense animosity and run away.
The rage washed over and out of the front of her mind, switching off in an instant. In this line of work, that was a skill she spent many grueling years reshaping her psyche to master. It was especially difficult to remain neutral in the face of feral beasts with civilized faces.
Their age, sex, species, mental state, etc., did not matter. Vermin had to be squashed with a relaxing face, or Jerza would go ballistic.
Her footsteps stopped at the basement door. On the other side was a short hall to the lobby. The lobby gave access to showers, the locker rooms, supply closets, and a small gym just for yoga and other minor activities. All were quite low on Jerza's list of priorities.
"Like you're one to talk. I had to heal that wench because you were too rough with the leather!"
"Not my fault she made it easy!"
"Shut up! Someone's coming."
"Probably Tit Devil."
"Heh. Tits."
Tit Devil? How bland.
She entered the pitching lab, flicking the main lights on. At one end of the centermost pitching line stood the requested prison guards, Ding and Hawk. Two pairs of weary eyes squinted at the sudden flash of fluorescent lights.
Jerza's three eyes inspected the setting that was awaiting her. The pitching machine was already loaded with a heap of baseballs. At another side of the lab were sets of tall cubbies and small lockers, more training equipment, locked shortcut doors to the segregated and mixed showers, and one of Amaimon's signature hiding closets sitting in plain sight.
The guards in question stood on blue Xs taped to the floor at the back wall. The men were dressed down. Judging by their high and tight haircuts, the way they stood, square shoulders, and thumbs in their pockets—no one would suspect that two rapists were blending in with the public effortlessly.
Hawk and Ding's eyes followed Jerza as she made her way to the pitching machine. She was pleased to find that her baseballs were the steel balls wrapped in yellow Pegasus hide, stitched with soft red threads. No one but Jerza used these balls. This was the only occasion that called for them.
Ding and Hawk saluted with two left fingers to their temples, clicking their heels together.
"Evening, Warden, sir!" they said in unison. Jerza saluted as well, then gave the silent "at ease."
"I appreciate you two making time to come to the campus this evening," she smiled. Just keep smiling...
She turned the pitching machine on and walked back to the other side of the pitching lab. She grabbed a steel bat from a wall to her far left. It was lined with other bats of varying shapes, materials, and sizes. She made her stride slow and relaxed, tossing and flipping her baseball like a coin.
"I had the head of security request you for an important discussion. But first, I need you two to stay put on those X marks. Don't move a muscle; that's an order."
"Yes, Warden," they replied in unison. Good little bots.
She squatted partially at the pitching square mat, taking a few test swings. The guards were befuddled watching their superior. They were under the impression that this was a meeting, not training. Suddenly, a ball shot out of the machine. Jerza swung. She nearly launched her bat towards the ceiling due to her rather slippery black gloves.
Hawk ducked as the ball pelted the wall where his head was. It tore straight through the net behind the duo, planting a deep hole into the wall. Their bewildered faces turned to Jerza for an explanation.
"W-warden Scarlet, ma'am, w-what are you doing?" Hawk stammered. Jerza squinted her eyes at his feet completely off his X spot. Ding stood like a pole with his hands at his sides.
At least one of them listened. She gave her legs a light shake as if loosening stiff muscles, flexing her fingers on the bat.
"Minerva Orland, subject seven-two. Do you know her?" Jerza asked. They shook their heads quickly.
Lying bobbleheads.
"Use your words!" she shouted, swinging at another ball. This time, Ding was struck right where his collarbone met his shoulder. He fell to his knees, yelling in pain. His whole arm went limp.
"Definitely a broken coracoid," she muttered to herself. She knew it would require surgical correction, assuming he made it through the next five minutes or so. She thinned her lips in a tight line to avoid grinning like a lunatic at her purposeful aim. She bent over, tapping her bat thrice on the fake plate under her.
"W-we don't know her, we swear! I-I-I've never heard of that human!" Hawk insisted.
"Oh? But how did you know she was once human?" she questioned. The guard looked like he wanted to backtrack his words, but all he did was mutter inaudible syllables.
I think it is worth noting that most guards will not know the particular race or species of inmates unless they make an effort to know what they are. Many demons easily pass as humans as well. They couldn't possibly know Minerva's race, unless...
"I-I, y-yeah, um... uh..."
"Too slow!" she grunted, swinging another fast one. The ball snapped his knee outwards. Hawk collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony.
Ooo, right in the patella, Jerza winced at the sound of that bone dislocating. It wasn't discomfort, however.
"SEVEN-TWO. DO YOU KNOW HER?!" she shouted at the top of her lungs before slamming the bat on the floor, bending it clean in half. Whoops.
"YES! Ye-e-ess..." Hawk sobbed uncontrollably. He was in too much pain to say much else after that. Ding jolted when her gaze darted to him. He had never seen her so angry before, so ready to kill. Jerza knew everything they did. They were so dead.
"Why did you do it?" she asked in a calmer voice. That split-second switch from raging to nearly numb chilled Ding to his core. Hawk was a sobbing mess on the floor.
"Why. Did. You. Do. It."
"B-b-because... c-cause we..."
Fuck! Nothing I say will help me! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
"Because she was a criminal who deserved it?" Jerza swung at a ball pitched low. He yelped when the ball flew just centimeters from his head. That last swing tore the metal bat where it had bent. She tossed the broken bat aside on her way to grab another.
Ding stood still on the X, fearing that she would walk over and beat him to death just for moving. Hawk was still immobile. Would she force him to stand up? Punish him for lying down?
"Ding, what did that baby look like?" Jerza questioned. "If you don't answer, your jaw is next."
"Uh, bald, k-kinda pale, n-no, tan...?"
I wasn't even there! What the fuck is this question??
He flinched with tense shoulders when a ball flew past the other side of his head. Lightning shot up from his injured shoulder. AAAH! SHIT! Gray eyes! She had gray eyes! I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry!" he shouted desperately.
He knew what he had done. He enjoyed every second of it. He never could have predicted that someone was tracking them all this time, waiting for the opportunity to attack. Why did they even care? Those vermin aren't good for anything but death or experiments! He and Hawk did nothing wrong to innocent people!
"Oh?"
Jerza's wide eyes and narrow pupils stared through him with a wicked smile. She didn't even register that useless apology. Hell, she barely noticed her grimace creeping the guard out.
Rapists are never sorry.
"That's right, Ding! Golden skin and gray eyes, just like her dear old dad!" She spun herself once before striking her next ball. She had mistakenly grabbed a wooden bat. It snapped and scattered little splinters everywhere upon its contact with the steel baseball.
Fiery pain shot up Ding's leg. His throat ached with every wave of screams that left his lungs. So much blood suddenly painted his hands, clothes, and the floor he crumpled to. His trembling fingers made contact with his tibia and fibula. His horrified, light gray eyes saw white flesh, pinkish muscle, and squishy fat tissue gushing warm blood everywhere. His nerves were on fire and freezing. That ball completely shattered the bottom half of his right leg.
Hawk would not be spared either. Jerza descended upon him first, forgetting about Amaimon's request for an easier cleanup. Offenders did not need questions. Swift execution was the only solution to the problem.
She bludgeoned Hawk's head before he had the chance to beg for his life. The Titania Devil guildmaster paid no mind to the blood splattering all over her black uniform (cargo is very formal for Jerza). She got on one knee as she whacked his head repeatedly. Her maroon shoulder cape, decked with black and silver trims and tassels, hardly looked any different when the expanding pool of blood began to soak its base.
Fuck you.
Hawk's skull caved in in no time, cracking in multiple places and spilling all the brain fluid he had. The organ itself was practically ground to chunks dripping out of what was left of his hollowed skull. The grass-green floor was smeared in crimson in seconds. Hawk stopped twitching eventually. Jerza did not care. God only knows she had seen and created worse body horrors.
Fuck this job.
Ding was sick to his stomach. In the midst of his pitiful attempt to crawl and drag himself from the berserk scene, sour bile climbed up his throat. The foul, grueling sounds and odors of slaughter overwhelmed his senses. He threw up, making a mess all over his hands, arms, and chest. His Aegean blue hair was perhaps his only clean asset left.
He broke down in wailing sobs. Fear, immense pain, and disgust gnawed at what little logic he had left in his head. Ding kept dragging himself towards the door, taking heavy, acidic breaths. The blood loss was affecting him fast.
A large foot stomped on his injured calf, sending yet another shrill scream out of his disgusting throat.
Jerza tuned out his screams. His burning lungs were nothing compared to the uncovered audio recordings. As head of security and the executioner's little helper, Amaimon had the great displeasure of listening to mountains of crime scene evidence every time a new investigation was opened. Hundreds of offenders and hundreds of victims uncovered one at a time. Hundreds of items to investigate, one at a fucking time. It was because of Amaimon's assistance that she learned about any of the atrocities that took place in her prisons.
Of course she, the fucking warden, had to hear her, Minerva, crying for help that didn't come. They hurt her every chance they got. And she was never aware of a damn thing!
Because she was in charge of over a dozen prisons, she had no idea about the extent of the abuse until a frazzled counselor reported an allegation and quit that same day. She had to wait several months just to begin investigating the case. By then, it was much too late to reverse any of the damage.
Refer to chapter one if you're willing to read some 14-year-old's terrible writing.
How could she have let this happen? How could she have missed the signs? This was not what the Project was supposed to entail! No one was supposed to be stripped of their dignity like this. Test subjects are not toys! Scum of the earth infested the Project Council's objective and permanently stunted Minerva's growth. They cursed her and every single victim with their mangled souls and infectious genes.
And for what? Short thrills? Punishing a bad person?
Jerza intends to address Nina Delgrado Cortez later.
"Unforgivable, you fucking fucks," she hissed through clenched teeth.
She pressed her other heel on his opposite knee pit, balancing herself on the squirming man's soiled legs. It took the seven-foot demon minimal effort to break his other leg just under the weight of her muscles and disdain.
No one but Jerza would leave this building alive. She understood that anybody in Minerva's position could not escape the torture either. She was bound, ambushed, cornered, and utterly powerless every time. Minerva might be mentally trapped in that cell of horrors for life.
And right now, so was Ding.
Erza...?
Kind brown eyes complimented by blue eye shadow peered through a fuzzy memory. Blue-gloved hands and a black-painted smile greeted her. Whoever or whatever it was, it hurt like a motherfucker hearing that voice of confusion from a stranger. Why did her heart ache for people she didn't know?
Jerza's vision was blurred by hot tears streaming down her face. The shrieking banshee of a man below her was accompanied by the waterworks of the executioner. That random memory soon became irrelevant.
Simply by existing with her responsibilities, she felt that she had allowed every single psychological torture, sodomy, rape, molestation, beating, and every other rotten abuse to happen within the prison walls. By failing to prevent civil-faced beasts from offending, hundreds more could fall victim to their cruelty at any time. And when they remembered their nightmares, all they would think of was the head bitch in charge, Jerza Fernandal Daywalker Scarlet, who (allegedly) allowed the depravity of demonkind and humankind to fester unsupervised. That hardly even mentioned the thousands of prisons she would never get to clean out.
Jerza did everything wrong. Everything. She failed to protect the inmates and subjects. She failed.
Her shoulders shuddered with every sob she had learned to bury up to that point. This was one of the few times she could cry everything out, whether it be alone or while killing Ding and Hawk (after all, they wouldn't live to tell a soul). She lifted the broken bat over her head.
"YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" she yelled, bringing the broken wood down on the back of the howling Ding's head. Was she talking about herself or these men? Whatever.
With a single hard crack, the pitching lab fell dead silent, save for the occasional baseball shooting out of the pitching machine and into the safety net.
Jerza dropped the blood-soaked wood, stepping off of Ding's corpse. She looked down at herself, blinking tears from her eyes. Her third eye was essentially blinded by all the water flow. She wiped her face, taking deep breaths.
Like a mental switch, her tear-stained face was devoid of all emotion again.
She looked back at the mess she had made. Hawk's head was a ground, splattered, crumpled mess. His blood still pooled out around him. Ding's head and leg also leaked steadily. Blood dripped from the nets and wall closest to Hawk. A bright red trail followed several feet behind Ding's vomit-scented body.
Jerza walked over to the pitching machine, switching it off. Her mind was silent, save for the subtle fluorescent buzz that finally tuned back in. Every sound came pouring in at once, not that there was much to listen to. Between the lights and gentle rustling of trees inside the soundproof barrier, nothing came to mind.
She looked towards the door to the basement lobby. In front of that door stood the little white-haired brat with her hands behind her back. Angelic wore all black: a dress with a white halter top collar buttoned in the back. Her short white hair floated fluidly like a ghost. Her eye color fluctuated, as did the rest of her spiritual form. Barefoot, as usual. She wouldn't dare step closer into the wreckage.
"Would you like some help tidying?" she asked.
"I thought you didn't like to interfere," Jerza responded. "But yes, I could use some help here. I really don't need that man-child Amaimon screaming down my phone over this."
Angelic swallowed dryly as she looked at the mess. She might never get used to watching the stoic giantess crash out.
"Yes, I understand. And you are also dirty with blood. That does not happen often."
"I know."
"You regained your composure as quickly as you lost it."
"Indeed, I did."
"Why is Minerva so special? You don't like humans or demons," Angelic said as if stating a groundbreaking fact.
It was true that she despised both creatures for existing. Her mental barrier was strong enough against most of Angelic's infamous powers. All she could do was communicate telepathically without snooping any further.
"That is none of your business. That whole guild has one purpose here. I was supposed to keep them from falling to feral savagery like 15% of their species," Jerza said, dabbing her face with her cape. A little more blood on her cape made no difference to her.
Oh, how I wish I could fill in the plot holes with just one look, Angelic frowned. Being denied her most natural abilities felt so limiting. But alas, the Project Council cannot let anyone know anything below the surface. A shame, really.
"You said the same thing when you executed the staff that studied Jackal's psychological state." Angelic cocked her head. "I did not think you would care this much about the welfare of this guild. I knew this was a possibility, but I am still curious."
Jerza turned away, crossing her arms. So what if she had them killed? They deserved it!
"It's simple. They did not study Jackal; they tortured him. We were all aware of the potential consequences of unleashing a horde into his mind and body. But instead of helping him cope and process the change, they starved him and made him lie in his own waste, incapable of comprehending anything for weeks."
The strawberry-blonde took a deep, slow breath. She had to keep calm, or else she would start shouting again. Raising her voice was such a hassle right now.
Angelic gave a lighthearted smile. She knew that stiff posture; Jerza was trying to hide her anger at the situation. She would not admit it aloud, but she was angry for Jackal. That cat wouldn't believe Angelic if she told him that Jerza intentionally paired him with Yuichi Misono. He was the only (qualified) nice human open to serving Tartaros Fairy if they requested his presence.
The Titania Devil guildmaster even went out of her way to get permission to kill for any reason she saw fit. Although she was not obligated to care for vulnerable inmates, she prioritized them first. Sexual abusers were vanishing. Corrupt doctors and their lackeys were gutted, literally and figuratively. Jerza's 15 prisons were managed based on the protection of a marginalized population. Everything down to hunting for food, treating illnesses, and rehoming children was done for their sakes.
Granite, they were each given numbers that identified a chronology of their incarceration and supposed execution (if it came to that point). As much as Jerza did not want to execute and brand undeserving individuals, the Project Council outvoted her by a landslide.
'The ink is perhaps the most important tool in this Project,' James said.
'They are like people with social security numbers on their skin. These numbers can easily be erased by the penmen,' Mephistopheles added.
'You should know by now that the ink is purely to satisfy the queen. Otherwise, we would have gone for an alternative method of identifying prisoners,' James also said.
'It is a degrading act! These creatures are people, not products,' Penelope had protested.
'Is the Thunder Devil Palace also another way of satisfying the Queen? Do you people feel no shame allowing this?' Jerza added with her usual sneer.
'The queen does not have to know that you only execute inmates who earned the punishment,' I said from my dark corner. 'The queen doesn't care about how her mission is fulfilled as long as the end result pleases her.'
Jerza and Penelope lost when Adrien Dragneel also voted in favor of that ink and random execution. For the Queen, their favorite excuse.
Story time is over.
"Nina is practically untouchable in her position (for now), but I at least caught these two," Jerza continued, motioning towards the corpses. "I am doing the dirty work so that my useless guards don't have to fuck up even more. Tartaros Fairy is a vital tool to the Project. They are not special to me at all."
"You're lying. One may keep secrets, but I know when one lies," Angelic tittered. Jerza faced her with a piercing glare.
"Oh, shut up. I am entitled to my cryptic personality just as much as you are. Now clean up this mess or send people who will!" she ordered. The girl sighed in defeat, lifting a finger.
"One day, we can chat as normal adults."
We are adults, you haggish brat! You just piss me off! the strawberry-blonde thought with a cold stare.
Normal adults, my dear.
Jerza blinked, twitching her lip in agitation.
The white-haired girl was gone. The demon turned around once more. The floor and wall were spotless. The damaged baseball bats were back in their places in the rack of other bats, unscathed and clean. The baseball-shaped holes and scattered baseballs were also gone. In place of the bodies were two small black pouches. Jerza walked over to the first back where Ding once lay.
Ziplock? she raised a brow.
Inside of it was a pair of light gray eyes floating in organ preservation solution. Ding's eyes.
Was this some kind of a trophy?
She picked up the other bag. Dark green eyes from Hawk.
How did she recover these ones? They were destroyed by my hands.
These eyes are evidence of your deed. When you show them to Minerva, she will understand what you've done.
I'll wring your little neck if you set me up to trigger her on purpose.
I am not cruel. I know what can and cannot trigger her, and you know it. She will be scared, but you will reassure her.
Why me? Someone she trusts will certainly get through to her much easier. I'll only make things worse.
No, you will not. Just trust me.
Jerza rolled her eyes. She, a walking source of terror, was expected to comfort someone who hated her? Bullshit.
This "meeting" now added up to 115 viruses eliminated to date. Hopefully that number will increase soon. She grabbed her cape, extending one side out. Not a splash of blood. She looked down at her dry, untainted clothing. Not a speck of red was visible on her shoes or gloves either. She assumed her hair and face were also spotless.
Ah, thank you. You didn't have to do that.
That blood would've ruined your shoes. You're welcome.
Normal adult talk.
Yes, more later.
Jerza dropped her cape, slouching forward. She hadn't realized how tiring her day was until all was finally peaceful. She took the Jack Trade key out of her leg pocket, opening Amaimon's special closet door. The doorway, instead of revealing cleaning supplies and the like, opened up to darkness. She stepped through, gently shutting the door behind her.
23 March X792, Six Hours After Milford Died
Minerva sat in her usual corner of Sayla and Kyôka's cell, hidden under her blanket like her life depended on it. She still kept the stolen cellphone close. The same intrusive thoughts of suicide and execution circulated in her mind for hours. One who killed without reason might as well die before they could be executed.
Someone will eventually find that body and figure out what she had done. Minerva was as good as dead.
I deserve it. It's all my fault. Failure. Stupid idiot.
She clamped her hands over her mouth when the cell door suddenly opened. Her whole body froze up in fear, her eyes wide and glazed over. All alarm bells screamed at her to stay still.
Sayla and Kyôka's footsteps entered before the creaking door was shut again.
"Minerva?" the hornless demon whispered, having noticed that familiar blanket pile in the corner.
She couldn't speak. Wouldn't. Shouldn't. It was not safe to so much as breathe.
Sayla and Kyôka spent the better part of an hour trying to talk Minerva into coming out. The aviary demon eventually pushed the bed over a bit so that she could squeeze between it and the wall. Still, the humanoid couldn't ground herself. When Kyôka gently lifted the blanket, the first thing she noticed was the look on her face, not all there. The cellphone also intrigued her.
"Hey there, you're okay," the green-haired demon smiled softly. Minerva kept the phone close, attempting to shrink even more into her hiding place. Sayla knelt behind her wife, holding her hand out.
"Minerva, give that to us, please?"
Minerva shook her head slowly. That numb look in her eyes never left the floor. Kyôka also reached over. The humanoid flinched, whimpering, "Don't."
.
Another hour went by in their silent standoff. At last, Minerva relented. Sayla knew how to navigate the phone easily enough. It was quite simple compared to activating Face, for example. She opened recorded messages, finding only one on file. She pressed play. She and Kyôka listened in silence to a little girl's voice on the other end. Both were shocked when she said Minerva's name more than once.
"Who could it be, a guard?" Sayla asked.
"I highly doubt it," Kyôka replied.
"[(French) The Sacred Jewel will not be extracted. When they march, armed bodies will fall. Fear will not save you.] Your power will bind to your heart. Without a heart to harness that power, it will instead bind to the soul, flesh, and bone, slowly eating its way to the next host. Once it has found you, there is no escape. Show no fear to the entity, for it will protect you for the rest of your life."
"Entity, Sacred Jewel, strange cryptic message... this must be Angelic," Kyôka murmured in surprise. Sayla couldn't stop a big smile from forming. But then, it faltered as she closed the phone.
"Yes, it has to be her," she agreed. "We can't tell anyone what we've heard. We have to destroy this device."
"Oh, how unfortunate. If only we could keep it as a souvenir," the bird demon pouted.
The humanoid looked at the couple in disbelief. Keep it a secret? Why would they do this for her?
"Minerva, thank you for saving this. It gives me a bit of optimism knowing that someone out there still believes in us," she smiled brightly. "Koko, let's rest properly for now. Tomorrow, we'll tell everyone what we have learned."
"W-what... you... learned?" Minerva inquired hesitantly, glancing up. The hornless demon nodded.
"Yep, we were a little busy this morning. Busy spying, if you would," she winked.
"B-b-but I k-k-ki..." Minerva covered her mouth again, hiding her face between her knees. Don't say it. I'll be killed.
Sayla opened her journal nearby, writing something down. She took notice of some dried ink spots near Minerva's frantic handwriting. She showed the book to Kyôka. Above the note read:
I killed him. I swear, I didn't mean to do it! He didn't deserve to die. I_
Sayla wrote, She smells like a corpse.
Kyôka took the book to add a response.
I know. Just don't say anything.
I know. I'm proud of her.
Sayla proceeded to scribble everything until it was impossible to read, including the confession, then closed the book.
Conversation over.
"Do you need to rest, Minerva? We won't tell you now if you're too tired." Kyôka took Minerva's hand as she stood. The humanoid got up as well, hunched under her blankets. Sayla's one demon eye opened on her left hand, taking Minerva's free hand in the other.
Minerva's eyes welled with tears as warmth coursed through her like blood. She leaned towards Kyôka for support. Metallic arms wrapped around her blanketed form firmly. Sayla gently hugged her too.
"No matter what you did today, we still love you very much. You're our sister, Minerva."
"You are important to every one of us," the bird demon reassured her.
"Thanks," the humanoid murmured. This much was enough.
March 26, X792
Sayla. Everyone who needed to know knows everything now. We have no choice but to lie low until we know what happens next. Kyôka explained her findings to Izumi and Wendell last. She knew they would be faced with a harsh reality about the well-being of their children. Prison is not a place for kids, whether they accept it or not. It was only logical to conclude that their infant and unborn child would be taken. They had to mentally prepare for the day their physical connection was severed. I will ensure that my sensory link between Izumi and her baby remains intact, even if it means doing so indefinitely.
Nina has not done more than observe. However, we cannot assume she won't act. For now, no one will meet as a group.
26 March, X792, Sayla's journal
Tempesta. Yuichi wants to schedule a meeting with one of us and Jackal. He emphasized "one at a time." It's been so long. Is that a good sign?
(scribbled in the top left corner)
I'm so mad at him, I wanna strangle his ass!!!!!
Tempesta patted Lamy's head between her ears. She ducked away from his hand, grumbling under her breath.
"We shouldn't be angry at him. We don't even know why he's been there for so long," Tempesta said.
"That's exactly why I'm pissed!" Lamy grunted. "It's been 12 days. TWELVE! He left his own girlfriend in the dark! He might as well have ghosted me! Don't you feel a little bit abandoned, Tempe? Don't deny it!" she added sharply. He flinched a little.
"Uh, well, kind of," he mumbled, lowering his gaze.
"Exactly. He owes us a lot more than a stupid little get-together to make up for this!"
Tempesta lay down on Lamy's bed on his back, folding his hands on his belly.
"He only asked to see one of us. Why do you suppose that is?"
"Who cares? We're both going, or he comes to us," Lamy replied. She lay beside him, propping her head on her elbow. He looked over. Her pinkish-red eyes focused on his face, not necessarily his eye.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Your nose kinda looks how it did in your Etherious form," she replied, booping him. He chuckled softly, taking her hand.
"Yes, it does. I feel like a beast growing out of a human body, with all the hair added."
"Yeah, a sexy beast," Lamy grinned. She loved his body no matter what he looked like. It was silly to have insecurities around her. Whenever he voiced negative thoughts about his appearance, she did something small to make him more beautiful to her.
First, she begged Kyôka to teach her basic styles pertaining to his hair type. The best she could do was his current look, twist rows with thread from old clothes to secure them.
Lamy spent hours perfecting it. She broke three combs while detangling each part of his hair. From his neighboring cell (the one that used to punch the wall and yell slurs at them), she borrowed "crown jelly," a hair product brought from outside, most likely by a trusted anonymous guard.
The middle-aged man from next door was not as scummy as Lamy expected. His hair was constantly braided down to his knees and surprisingly well-kept for a jackass. A man of a few nice words, he gave Lamy a simple grunt and, "Don't use it all, or it's your fingers I'm trading."
Sheesh. Still, she was grateful.
With the added crown jelly, threads, and patience, Tempesta's hair was flawless every time he visited Kyôka or Lamy. He felt a pleasant spark while looking at his reflection in the shower room (one of the only places with a shatterproof mirror). Kyôka wrapped her arm behind his shoulders.
"You look nice! Do you feel bonita?" she asked. He raised a brow.
"What does that mean?"
"Just answer the question."
"Fine. I feel Bonita," he chuckled. The aviary demon proceeded to ruffle his afro and mess up Lamy's hair as well on her way out of the shower room. The bunny demon was just happy to see her boyfriend smiling.
"Aww, she called you pretty!"
Tempesta and Lamy jumped in surprise when Elfine chirped up behind them. She was well hidden behind the shower curtain and her towel. The male demon looked away respectfully. His girlfriend immediately stood in front of him with her arms out.
"Back off, you weirdo!"
"Relax, girl! I'm over that petty rivalry," she snickered, closing the curtain.
Meanwhile, Tempesta was focusing on the fact that Kyôka had called him cute. She rarely called anything cute unless it was her girlfriend. Wife. Whatever they are.
What is happening to Tartaros??
.
But when that wasn't enough, she smuggled makeup to experiment with. The bunny demon wouldn't tell him how or when she got her hands on any of it. Mascara and clear lip gloss were his preferred products. Anything else would raise suspicions and draw too much attention.
Before breakfast one morning, he decided to be bold and apply eyeliner on his own. He spent a good amount of time ruining it with runny eyes and uncomfortable blinking, but he did it! At least he only had one eye to worry about.
Tempesta snuck out of the shower room that day, mentally preparing for negative feedback from strangers. But to his surprise, he received more compliments than criticism. Even his neighbor nodded to him. He figured that was sign language for a greeting.
"Try rosemary oil for that patchy mess of a beard," he said. Tempesta gave a thumbs-up. Where the hell would he get that?
Minerva asked him to do her makeup too, but Tempesta had to explain Lamy's gatekeeping of the makeup.
"Oh, bummer. You did such a good job on your first attempt," she said with a disappointed smile. "When we leave, let's buy makeup properly, yeah?"
"Is that allowed?" he questioned. Did cosmetics even cater to men like him, dark-skinned and kind of ugly-cute?
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. Makeup is for everybody," she replied.
.
One day, Lamy noticed Tempesta giving more attention to his muscles in particular. She asked no questions as he massaged himself almost every day, repeated the same workout routines, and paid close attention to his diet. She noticed that his abs were his favorite physical trait. Lamy sometimes caught herself almost drooling while staring at him, thinking of what she'd do to him if they were totally alone. It was hard not to objectify him, not that he minded. Damn it, if only he wasn't so nervous about sex, she'd pump him dry! Looking so attractive while being so closed off felt like a crime.
At Lamy's quiet request, Kyôka started "fixing" his clothes. The bunny demon did not ask where the bird demon got her supplies as long as she delivered. She worked her magic with what she had and made a few crop tops of different designs. Some males wore theirs just barely below their pecs. Others showed just their belly buttons. Lamy chose the latter to respect her boyfriend's comfort zone.
To say that he loved the tops was an understatement. Tempesta started wearing them daily ever since. He said it felt similar to what he used to wear, but better.
Tempesta vehemently refused to wear shorts. He knew his posterior was nice to look at, but he did not feel comfortable showing it off to the world because it was not ripe for the taking (his words). Lamy laughed her head off at his firm rejection.
"Trust me, every male here knows you're not available," she snickered.
"You stop at nothing to remind us, Lamy," Bird added flatly. This day was the first time in three days he decided to join Izumi, Wendell, Bird, and Sayla for snacks. There was no mention of French or rebels, thanks to the vultures on the border walls.
"Don't be jealous, Bird," Wendell teased.
"I'm straight, you crocodile."
"I'm part dragon, ya dodo."
"If I ever wear shorts, I'll do it only for you and Jackal," the snow-haired demon said. Lamy sat up, coughing.
Wendell and Izumi couldn't hold back their laughter. Bird rolled his eyes, sipping his water.
"That's very sweet of you, Tempe," Sayla smiled brightly, trying not to giggle as well. Tempesta flushed red, scooting to the farthest edge of the bench.
That was NOT a safe answer! he screamed in his mind, wishing to melt into the sandy ground.
On the inside, Lamy was beaming with pride as he was finally coming out of his shell, one slip of the tongue at a time. However, she wanted to look at him in shorts first! It was her idea, after all!
Anyway, back on track. Sorry again.
The snow-haired demon closed his eyes, wondering what to say when he saw Jackal again. A simple greeting with a hug wasn't enough. Would he be allowed to grab that guitar?
It is only mentioned in passing that he used to practice the bass. He claimed an off-tune guitar in this setting but keeps it hidden most of the time.
What would they talk about? Would he notice his style? Would he hate it? Pounce on sight? Perhaps they'd nap together, peaceful in each other's arms again.
Suddenly, Lamy lightly slapped his cheek, jolting him out of his stupor. Drat, she caught me.
"No napping!" she scolded him before getting up. "We're leaving right now."
Tempesta was a tortoise while gathering himself while his hare of a girlfriend threw her slippers on and marched out of the cell. He still took his time catching up, gathering his thick curls into a ponytail before departing. He wrapped his hair with a long strip of cloth, tying a bow to secure it. A few baby hairs were too short for his row twists, so he curled them with his fingers.
He began jogging when Lamy started making her way up to the second floor. As expected, they were stopped at the ISOLATION UNIT doors by the usual two pests guarding the entrance.
"If you're visiting your pet, you'll have to wait for Dr. Misono to let you in," the guard on the left said.
"Oh, come on! I don't want to wait anymore!" Lamy whined. Tempesta patted her head as he came up beside her.
"No worries. We can wait," he smiled politely. The guard on the right looked him up and down as if blinking the deceit from her eyes. Lamy glared at her.
"Got a problem?"
"Not at all," she nodded, straightening her posture. "My son has curls, but not as thick as yours. No problems here, missy, mister."
"Tell him he's adorable," the bunny demon replied nonchalantly.
"I tell him often," the guard smiled a little. Tempesta leaned against the banister that overlooked the main area of the prison. Folks did their own things: looking up at folks upstairs, eating, joking around, teaching, reading, etc. Izumi was talking with another human-passing demon who was also visibly pregnant. Wendell stood like a bodyguard between the two.
Everything felt more like a psychiatric facility than a prison. Not a lot of folks died here either.
Lamy waved excitedly when she saw Ziggy near the cafeteria. He was allowed to wave back, and that he did. Not all guards were assholes, thankfully.
"Top of the day, you two!"
The couple turned in unison to see Yuichi Misono standing inside the Isolation Unit doorway. He wore a quaint smile complemented by cloud-shaped glasses. Lamy liked his silly glasses. Tempesta was mostly relieved to see that positive face again. A happy human doctor was always a good sign, right?
"I was expecting just one of you, but two is also good."
"It better be!" Lamy huffed, walking into the unit. Tempesta followed. He heard a casual f-slur under the left guard's breath as the doors shut.
Typical to never say it to my face, he rolled his eyes.
Lamy looked around at the other cells. All was relatively quiet; even with stronger hearing, activity in other cells could have easily passed as little lurking rodents.
"How is he?" the bunny demon asked.
"Jackal is doing quite well. He's put in a lot of work to heal from his past experiences in solitary confinement. I am proud for him," Yuichi said.
"That's good. I just wish he had included us too," Tempesta replied. Jackal carried that baggage alone and somehow managed to start unpacking it. He willingly exposed himself to solitude and probably conquered his fears on his own. The snow-haired demon did not know how to feel about this.
"What did he do to get over his, uh, challenges?" Lamy inquired, unsure of the right words to describe Jackal's treatment.
"If you have additional questions, he preferred that you save them for him. He wanted to tell his own version of things because you both would understand him better than me," the doctor replied. Lamy glared ahead.
"He said all that? Well, I've got tons of questions," Lamy muttered.
"As do I," Tempesta agreed. "Did you help him too?"
"Of course. All I did was provide the tools," the doctor smiled as he fixed his glasses. "He adapted surprisingly well once he accepted my help."
But not my help, Lamy pouted, crossing her arms.
A pit of butterflies opened in the silver-haired demon's stomach. She held her boyfriend's hand, making no effort to hide the nerves. Tempesta tried to appear calm and collected, but he was nervous too.
I wanna punch him, hug and kiss him, beat his face up, and cry at the same time! Lamy thought, biting her lower lip. What could have possibly been so urgent that he couldn't talk to his guildmates first, let alone the two people he strung along?
Is he okay? Sane and healthy? Does he miss us? Am I even his girlfriend at this point?!
They stopped at Jackal's cell door, which was close to the shower room at the back of the hallway. Yuichi glanced over, noticing Lamy's sad, pinkish-red eyes spacing out at the floor. His eyes turned on Tempesta's cold expression.
I should prepare for either a fistfight or a mental breakdown, he noted to himself.
"Do you two need a moment?" he asked them in a whisper. Lamy shook her head.
"Nope. You go first, Tempe."
"W-what? Why? I thought we were going in together," he shot back. Fuck, now he was really nervous! The bunny demon gave him a pat on the shoulder, forcing a comforting smile.
"You deserve time alone first. Besides, I don't want to beat his ass in front of you," she grinned brightly. Tempesta shuddered at that jovial face behind that blatant threat.
"Alright. Point taken," he mumbled, staring ahead at the door. No use in arguing with that.
Fistfight, it is, Yuichi decided.
He took a ring of keys out of his pocket and gingerly flipped through them. He appeared to be moving slowly on purpose. It could not be that difficult to find one key, or so Tempesta thought. Finally, the doctor inserted one into the keyhole, unlocking the door.
"Jackal, it's Yuichi. Are you okay?"
Moment of silence...
"Don't open that door, or I'll claw your nose off!" someone practically shrieked from inside. Tempesta broke his stony face, bursting with snickers. Jackal sounded the same as always. Even Lamy giggled softly.
"Wow, and here I thought you two had gotten close," the bunny demon tittered.
You have no idea. Yuichi blinked, maintaining his pleasant demeanor. He had to pretend that nothing was awkward between them, especially in front of his lovers.
"Nothing to worry about here. I deal with it every single day," the doctor said. Tempesta sighed, relaxing his shoulders. He looked at his girlfriend.
"Me first?"
"Yep."
He took a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth.
Well, here goes...
And that's that on that. :3 I'm debating between, ice, spice, and something nice in the next chapter. Tough decisions, man! These chapters are too long but nog long enough. Sigh.
— ML
When do I get to step fully into the plot again? :(
You just did. Get to steppin'!
But that part was so dull!
Womp womp sis /