Band (Worm/Scion)

Walt

01/12/11​

The past day and a half, although a phenomenal waste of both mine and the legal apparatus of this city’s time, was rather enlightening. Mr. Rhodes had provided me with a lawyer from the law firm of Cypher, Scratch, & Morgenstern (a name that didn’t really dispel the low hanging fruit of “how many lawyers there are in hell”) that got to do very little in the whole process besides go on a tangent about how the whole legal system needed an enema. My attorney had informed me that due to the nature of the utterly asinine and draconian laws pertaining to youth offenses in light of the rise of parahuman led gangs, and thus a surge of youth offenders along with it, that a minor can be held by the police without bail until the minor’s first court appearance with zero say from their legal guardians. My attorney was rather confident that in spite of all of it I would be let off with a fine at most on account of New Hampshire’s Good Samaritan Law but I would still have to stay in a holding cell at the station until they took me to court the next day.

I was stuck in a holding cell with about four other boys my age and I didn’t care to speak or even acknowledge their existence. No, I simply sat on the bench and thought to myself while keeping still. My cellmates were frightened by something or other, I couldn’t tell what, and had huddled into the furthest corner of the cell opposite me as I focused on my thoughts. I thought on what happened to me in the bathroom, what happened to Taylor in the locker, and what I was going to do about it when I was released. Which naturally, given the way the legal system was handling my situation and the picture painted by Taylor at New Years, meant that I would have to find and pursue the culprit myself. I may not be one of the Hardy Boys but Grandfather made damn sure I knew how to pay attention. I only had two leads, one of which being a name and the other a possibly missing girl but it was better than nothing. Sadly it was the only conclusions I could come up with thinking all night in a holding cell.

Once the courthouse opened and started processing the youth offenders my cellmates and I were fast tracked their to meet our guardians and legal council. Finn and Saoirse weren’t allowed to speak to me until after the hearing and were ushered into the courtroom seating while my attorney gave me a rundown of what was to come and rant on the perversion of the legal system since The Protectorate became a government body. She didn’t really say anything pertinent to my case, just went on and on about legislation being proposed at the federal level and I did my best to tune her out. Then it came time for the hearing. My attorney didn’t even get to say a damn thing; prosecutor opened her mouth, read off the charges, the judge read through the file, proceeded to tear into the prosecutor, then dismissed the charges outright on account of the Good Samaritan Law. Lucky me that the judge seemed a decent man. After they took the cuffs off and released me back to my grandparents, my lawyer left after handing them her card and my grandparents told me that there was somebody who wanted to meet with me. They were pretty cagey about it, but I had a good feeling on who they were talking about. We stopped by the house so I could shower and get some clean clothes on rather than the uncomfortable clothes they gave me at the station.

Silent car ride later and we were at The Champion’s District making our way to the shop, Evian perched on the ledge of one of the windows comfortably.

“About time!” He purred as he stretched out “What took ya?”

“Had to shower, cat.” was my reply and Saoirse made sure to give me a playful smack upside the head for it

Evian just chuckled and rolled his eyes as best as he could before addressing Finn and Saoirse

“Doors unlocked, they used the spare key.”

Finn and Saoirse headed in first, they looked like they were hoping beyond hope that they were not being strung along and I followed behind them. Standing casually against the register counter was my father and standing in the middle of the store with a somewhat nervous expression was my mother. Father had a briefcase in one hand and was wearing mostly black; a flannel winter coat, a pair of boot cut jeans, and some old work boots. He would no doubt stick out like a sore thumb if he were to walk among the people of Brockton Bay but given recent revelations I don’t think he would care in the slightest. My mother was the opposite, wearing a forest green Brockton Bay University hoodie, jeans, some sneakers, and her long red hair in a ponytail, actually looked like she would blend in quite well in the city.

None of us said a word, the silence dragging out for what felt like hours. None of us moved, barring my father looking from Mother to Finn to Saoirse to me then back again. Father let out a sigh then gave a lazy wave and a smile.

“Finn. Saoirse. Walt. Good to see ya.” He said plainly and with an accent that you’d expect from a Wyoming country boy rather than the non accent I heard him speak with when they brought my soul to his Sanctum. “We did not entirely die.”

With such an odd choice of words said, my mother let out a sigh and began wringing her hands as she attempted to formulate a sentence. Instead of speaking she just ran up and hugged Finn and Saoirse tightly not wanting to let them go. Finn and Saoirse did the same.

Father walked around them and gave me a one armed hug

“How ya feelin’ son? Healing up nice?” he said jovially

I just nodded. My father was in front of me in the flesh and I just nodded. No words, no questions, no heartfelt embrace or tear of the eye.

Just nodded. What kind of son just nods to the father he has never seen in person? A subpar one I imagine.

Mother broke the tight embrace with her own parents, seeming to finally work up the steel to say something.

“Mom, dad I dunno how to tell you this…” she started, her voice that of a New Englander and her face growing more sheepish and nervous as she spoke. “…but I’m a goddess and my husband is a god?”

Finn just chuckled and Saoirse just had a knowing smile.

“Honey, we kind of had the idea that you were more then met the eye when we found out about Evian.” Finn said, once again embracing Mother.

Saoirse chuckled and said “Ní raibh tú caolchúiseach i ndáiríre.”

Somehow I know that’s Irish, never heard the language before in my life and never even knew there was an Irish language.

For some reason.

Mother laughed and said “Ar a laghad ní raibh tú ainm dom tar éis mé féin.”

“Either of you understand any of that?” Finn asked

Father shrugged his shoulders and I just said “No.”

Mother and Saoirse laughed then we moved to the back room. They continued their conversation in Irish on the back couch, Evian on Mother’s lap being petted, while Father, Finn, and I sat at the table. Finn and Father conversed while I listened attentively.

“What did you mean by ‘not entirely dead’ and which gods are you two supposed to be?” Finn’s question was said rather directly, I got the feeling that while he had quite the brush with the supernatural and being forever changed by it, he still had trouble believing it.

“Quite a few actually. See, a god has these things called Mantles, more or less the godly persona. There’s the main one a god has, then sometimes they make new ones either by accident or on purpose.” Father said with his feet propped up on an unclaimed chair “I’ve picked up a handful of ‘em as I wandered; The Grim Reaper, Pecos Bill, got mistaken for the devil a few times but it never really caught on. My main one is Erikaer Helson.”

“I don’t know who that is, also how do you go from being the personification of death to a whimsical cowboy story?” Finn was rather incredulous to say the least

“Eh, it’s all in the audience.” Father waved his hand as if to dispel Finn’s skepticism “I also don’t blame you for not knowing who I am, I’m a really minor Norse god after all. Really only known as Hel’s son and going out and grabbing people who try to cheat death. Hell I think I only show up in either Edda like twice.”

Finn sighed and cut straight to the point “Doreen is Titania isn’t she?”

Father tapped his nose and nodded. “Not her main Mantle, but it is one of her favorites. Dawn’s her main one, yet another minor god. She kinda became the go to girl for witches in North America by accident and she shows up as a bit part in some Celtic myths.”

“Minor gods, ok.” Finn let out a deep sigh “So if both of you are gods then why did you die?”

“Eh, went loud and murked eight of the crackhouse nine.”

Finn went pale, his eyes widening in shock. “They were in Brockton Bay?”

“Yeah, figured that’d be the reaction.” Father said with a chuckle. “They weren’t here long, obviously.”

Father leaned back into his chair, nodding over to Mother. “Hey Dory, wanna tell the story or should I?”

Mother sat straighter and cleared her throat

“I was doing some divining with Evian and found out about it. Walter was only six months old and neither of us trusted the local authorities to do anything competent, we figured if we were discreet about it we could deal with a problem and be back the next morning.”

She chuckled nervously

“Needless to say that didn’t quite happen. As soon as I found out and told Eric, we took Walter to your place Dad, got some gear then rode over to where the nine were heading.”

Finn and Saoirse both looked like they were reliving that night. I imagine it was a rough memory to have, seeing your daughter and son-in-law drop off their son and then never be seen alive again.

“Turns out they had the bright idea to offer their services to the highest bidder among The Marche, The Teeth, and The Empire. The Teeth, psychos that they were bid the highest. That’s when Eric had the bright idea of kicking down the door we were by and ‘just start blasting them’ with his trench broom.”

Father laughed, almost a cackle really, with sadistic glee

“Finn, you shoulda seen it! The Butcher went all ‘Oh shit!’ when I just unloaded on him! Seeing the bastard’s flesh rend off his bones, mm-hmm, I got a huge kick out of that! He died first and I caught his nasty ass with my death bag! Man! He was on every damn list I could think of, all those souls had different places they were heading and none of them were good lemme tell ya!”

Mother cleared her throat once more, giving a gently scolding look at Father who held his hands up and uttered an apology with a smile. When she continued, a rather fond smile graced her features

“Robbing the sight from their very eyes, turning fortune against them, seeing hardened criminals become a panicked mob running for their lives in utter terror. That’s a sight I will cherish. The Marquis had the right idea of leaving the first chance he had, The Teeth were slaughtered wholesale between the pair of us and the chaos, we didn’t manage to kill anybody from the Empire sadly. We did kill all but that slippery bastard Jack Slash through great effort and he filled up the roster by the end of the year.”

Father let out a heavy sigh

“Fucker got away while we were fighting Grey Boy. He managed to catch me into a loop, but I killed it.”

Finn gave Father this odd look

“Yes, I killed the weird time loop bubble whatever he put me in. Being a death god will do that.”

Father turned to me and said “That’s a quick bit of advice for you, the stuff you have divine purview over can be used even in esoteric ways like literally killing a time loop.”

I gave a quick nod and committed that to memory.

“On our way home we were stopped by some familiar faces, Valkyries for me, the whole damn Wild hunt for her.”

“No ifs ands or buts.” Mother added “Felt like I was eight again.”

Saoirse lit up, remembering something “Ah, at Bachman’s!”

Mother rubbed her neck nervously “Yup, didn’t wanna leave and it was time to go. Just booted our souls from our mortal bodies and then dragged us off to Asgard and Tír na nÓg respectively. Lugh wanted to have words with me.”

“Allfather, the real one that is not the dumbass down here, got chewed out. ‘You almost broke the damn rules Erikaer, they had another fifteen years Erikaer, why are you acting so smug Erikaer, go back to Helheim and stay there until you’ve learned your lesson Erikaer’ damn was he pissed.”

Mother smiled smugly “Lord Lugh was more understanding, however he did bar me from making any personal visits for a while. He did allow me to weave the mists into Walter for his protection and to leave instructions to have Walt sent to Wyoming with Lucian. And before you ask mom, I did that because Walt would have been far safer out there in the sticks and Lucian, for all of his flaws, would have prepared him for his future far better if socially stunted.”

I am not socially stunted. I just don’t enjoy speaking to people very often.

“Another fifteen years for what?” Asked Finn, Father was the one to perk up and answer

“Eh, the gods all got together in a big ass conclave and we gave humanity from January 1^st 1981 to January 1^st 2011 to stop…” Father trailed off “…something from happening. I’m gonna be honest I wasn’t really listenin’ and Dory refused to explained what got everyone so riled up in the Overworld and why we were gonna stop maintaining the Mists. Why is that Dory?”

Mother smiled mischievously and simply said “Spoilers, babe.”

Father gestured to her and said “See what I mean?” while Evian had a look of shock on his face and said something to the effect of “Wait they just stopped maintaining the Mists?”

“Which brings us to the other reason we’re here.” Mother said, once again clearing her throat “While we aren’t banned from visiting the world from time to time we can’t stay for too long, lest they drag us back again. We came here to grant Walt his Birthright.”

Mother got up from the couch, Evian in her arms, walked over to me and then set him down on my lap.

“First part of it; Evian. He will be your guide into the ways of magic and help you with the Encyclopedia Fabula.”

“Yo.” Evian smiled toothily and smugly, his earlier shock gone.

I glared bullets into him, silently lamenting that I was now cursed to have an overly talkative Bostonian cat as my magic teacher.

“The stuff in the briefcase will have to wait, the next part is further in to the shopping center. If you’d all follow me?”

Finn and Saoirse seemed to have an idea of where we were being lead, Finn had a bemused look on his face while Saoirse looked slightly annoyed. Saoirse caught up with Mother and began speaking to her in Irish again so fast I couldn’t make out the specifics of what they were saying although I could tell it was probably a scolding. Finn moved closer shortly after to try and play peacemaker leaving Father and I to trail behind with Evian in my arms.

We didn’t speak as we walked. To be honest, despite all the questions I said I had during the incident at school none of them were coming to mind. In hindsight any of them just seemed childish.

“How you holdin’ up son?” he asked me, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine. My wounds are healing nicely.” I told him “Little chance of scarring according to the doctors.”

Father sighed “I mean about what happened at the ranch.”

Ah. The reason I was even sent here.

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.” was all I said on the matter.

Father just smiled and let out a chuckle. He reached into a pocket of his coat, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. The number on the card was (000) 424-2564. Odd. 000 is not a valid are code…

“Call that number if you ever wanna chat up your old man, ok?”

Once again I just nodded and followed my mother and grandparents down an alleyway within the shopping center. The path we walked took odd turns and bends the whole way, and the light of the sun struggled to reach into the pathway with the only light really keeping the cobblestones visible being the lights of the many odd shops that dotted the alley. Eventually we arrived; two stores stacked on top of each other in a strange dip in the ground the one above ground was a tattoo parlor with a sign simply saying “Reeve’s”, and near the staircase leading to the below ground store was a smaller neon sign saying “Nuts N’ Bolts” along with a helpful neon arrow showing the way.

“Well son!” Father said giving me a clap on the shoulder. “Time to get some ink.”

“I’m sorry what?” was my reply. My eyes blinking in surprise.

“Just go with it, when it comes to your mom life gets easier and more interesting when you do.”

I let out a sigh and tried to steel myself going in. I honestly never expected to have a tattoo and I never saw the appeal, let alone as a teenager. With my parents, my now very present and living in a manner of speaking parents, and grandparents accompanying me and giving their permission.

Good god what has my life become.

Mother opened up the door to the shop, an iridescent and odorless smoke curling out from within. When we got inside, the smoke was not filling the whole place but hugging tightly to the floor and ceiling constantly shifting from one color to the next. The walls were filled with framed sheets of artwork in varying styles, the furniture throughout the store was all antique and all from different cultures. Deep within the back of the shop we heard a man with an English accent loudly berating a simpering man.

“Go see who’s at the bloody door you fucking muppet!”

Out of the back room, a rather put upon twenty-something with rather tasteful tattoos on his right arm dressed in some band shirt and jeans came out.

“Uh… d-do you h-have an appointment?” he stuttered out as he approached the front desk.

Mother smiled and cupped her hands around her mouth to yell “Hey Reeve! Your favorite apprentice and teacher is back in town for that collab!”

A commotion came from the back room and a very thin and somewhat tanned man wreathed in the same iridescent smoke that hugged the floor and ceiling. With golden eyes, extremely sharp features, pointed ears this man was clearly not human. With him closer, I could tell that the smoke was coming from glowing tattoos depicting swirling smoke around his midsection. The strange thin man’s face went from surprise to a wide jovial smile

“Well it’s about damn time!” He said.

Mother turned to address us

“This here is Reeve, this is his shop, in a previous life I was his mentor, in my life as Doreen McCullough I was his student.”

Reeve stood up straight, no longer hunched over he had a clear foot and a half taller than me and was probably at least seven feet tall. He crossed his fully sleeved in ink arms before speaking.

“Best teacher and student I ever had.” Reeve lightly swatted the chest of the skittish man beside him “My current apprentice here could learn a thing or too. Pay attention.”

Reeve’s Apprentice nodded, his eyes filling with determination despite looking like he was a hairs breadth from having a panic attack. Reeve began walking towards the back room of the shop, his apprentice following along, the rest of us coming by when he called out to us to follow him. The room we were in was spacious enough for the seven of us to move around in, there was an adjustable chair that looked like it could be arranged to be a massage table in the center. Much like the front of the store, the walls were filled with framed sheets of artwork.

“So who’s the canvas?” Reeve asked looking through a rather impressive tool bench filled with various bits and bobs as well as pots of ink.

Evian decided that now would be the time to squirm and get out of my arms, Mother soon grabbed my shoulders and guided me over to the chair.

“This is my son Walter and this piece will be for him.” Mother’s voice was filled with joy and excitement.

“Placement?”

“Back.”

“Nice.” Reeve let out a whistle and smiled a bit wider then turned to his apprentice “Set the chair up for the little prince.”

The apprentice did so.

Mother went over to Reeve and took her hoodie off, she was wearing a sleeveless tank and I could see a full sleeve tattoo that seemed to change styles as it went from wrist to neck in a multitude of colors, and began discussing something with him in Scots Gaelic. I took off my top layers and once the apprentice was done I leaned over the back of the chair while I sat, resting my chin on the headrest and hanging my arms over the arm rests that were not raised and angled to facilitate my current posture.

What came after was several hours of waiting; Finn was reading a magazine, Saoirse was apparently teaching Evian how to speak Irish, Father was resting his eyes as he sat on the floor against the wall, Mother and Reeve were hard at work sketching out the stencil.

Reeve stopped to show me what he’d be using; a pair of needles that would make most people a bit nervous. He said that normally he’d use a gun for this but he didn’t want to “Flex a bit” and Saoirse took that as her cue to take Evian to the front of the store and teach him there with Finn following after. I suppose that’s one way to find out your grandmother is afraid of needles.

When the stencil was done they placed it on my back and got to work. Mother and Reeve were gloved up and moving their tools over on small wheeled trays and tables. Mother wheeled her stool over to speak to me face to face.

“This tattoo will give you great speed and fortitude, son. I’d rather bless you with immortality and invulnerability but if I did I would be provoking fate just as Frigg did when she did so with Baldur.” She whispered to me. “It won’t prevent you from being harmed, but it will make it more difficult to be harmed.”

Then they began.

I felt the needles pierce my skin and I grit my teeth a bit in response. Mother asked me to let her know if the pain got too much.

The pain of the needles was a mild annoyance in comparison to being stabbed, stung by a dream eating parasite, and being shot. The pain of the needles was almost comforting in a way, with every prick I felt power flow in to me. The rest of the session was silent and flew by quickly and I almost fell asleep a few times. Soon my mother and Reeve stopped and they told me it was done. They brought out a hand mirror and reflected the mirror my back was facing, giving me a good view of the now finished piece.

At first glance it was a tree that covered nearly my entire back. On closer inspection, the entirety of the piece was actually an extravagantly intricate Celtic knotwork. I thought I could make out some swooping runes in a few of the lighter and more visible knots of the tree. It was beautiful. On top of all that, I felt lighter and hardier then ever. Like I could run a marathon at full sprint and not get tired with no warm up, although I didn’t want to test that.

“It’s done!” Mom called out to Finn and Saoirse as she disposed of her gloves and pulled her hoodie back on. Then she took out a camera and took a few pictures of the piece.

My grandparents were rather impressed

“It looks great, honey.” Finn said with a smile “Next time you visit maybe you can give your mom some ink.”

“I would sooner burn my coat dear.” was Saoirse’s reply as she smiled at him

Reeve came over and handed a clipboard with some forms and a pen to them

“Yeah, seeing as how it’s illegal to tattoo a minor without legal guardian’s permission I need the both of you to sign these.”

Saoirse rolled her eyes and got to reading and signing the paperwork. I stood up from the chair and started putting my shirt and coat back on. To my surprise there wasn’t any soreness and I was fairly certain that I was supposed to have some kind of seal or something on the tattoo. Nobody stopped me and nobody was telling me about any hazards so I just chocked it up to magic.

Mother cleared her throat and I turned to face her.

“Normally with a Visitation you would be given a task by your patron, myself in this case. However, you’re already planning on finding the one who attacked Taylor I take it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then you will need a suitable weapon when you face them. You’ll need it to face the evils you will come across and pursue.”

“Not to mention. You’re gonna need a nice costume with some protection to go with it.” Father said walking up to me from his spot on the floor. “Make sure the feds, the jagoffs in their little gangs, and other similar undesirables don’t come after you and yours.”

Father brought up the suit case, released the clasps, then opened it. Inside were a silver belt buckle with a golden harp and a pair of crossing Irish flags behind it and a very ornate revolver.

Saoirse exhaled slowly, clearly wanting to say something in protest but not doing so. Finn just rubbed her shoulder.

“Try the buckle first, you’ll see why when you do.” said Father, gesturing to the plain belt I had on.

I switched the original plain buckle with the new one and fastened my belt.

“The belt is magical, it will allow you to change from your normal clothes to the Mantle of Midsummer. It’s enchanted armor made specifically for you.” Mother said. “It’ll be a suitable disguise and the enchantments on it will help you deal with bullets. All you need to do to don the Mantle is to say something with the intent of calling it forth.”

That sounded a bit familiar.

“Like some kind of catch phrase?” I asked her, inwardly cringing that this was the question I was comfortable asking.

Father chuckled and said “You should shout ‘Drip’ when you do it, it’ll be lit! They say that nowadays right?”

Mother had the good sense to lightly elbow him in the ribs and tell him “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Father just laughed a little more.

Ah. Now I know why it seemed familiar. It reminded me of something Lily was talking about when we all were watching that show of hers. I had asked her why Kamen Riders pose and say their catchphrase. She said that it had its origins in kabuki theater, then when western media came to Japan it fused with the tropes from that media and became part of the general tropes of the medium. It was a signal to the audience that the hero was ready to face the villain and that the tide would turn.

With that, I moved away to give myself some room and faced the mirror on the wall.

I stood in profile, drawing my left arm across my chest as if drawing a pistol from a shoulder holster, aimed my hand as if were the drawn gun and took aim at my reflection with the index finger out and my thumb raised.

“Let’s ride.” I said, willing the Mantle to come out.

Vines and leaves sprouted from the belt and covered all but my eyes, my clothes shifting and a bundle forming on my head in a vague hat shape. The belt grew a holster and several rings the perfect size and shape to carry moon clips and the buckle changed designs, now depicting a rose with a pair of crossed revolvers. Just like the wax seal of the letter Evian had brought. The vines and leaves broke away in a shimmering light, leaving no debris. On my head was the cleanest and purest white cattleman I had ever laid eyes on, a forest green bandanna covered my face below my eyes, I was wearing a black long sleeve button up with a very intricate rose and thorned vine embroidery, a dark green duster, some nicer boot-cut jeans, and the nicest pair of roper’s boots I’d ever worn. All I needed to add were the spurs I had at home to make the ensemble complete.

Father let out a low whistle “Just as sharp lookin’ as his old man.”

“It does suit you” My mother clearly agreed

Finn gave me a thumbs up and Saoirse took in the outfit nodding in approval.

“What’s a cowboy without his gun?” said Father, handing me the gun by the barrel “Bullets will come later when you’re ready to bring in that psycho that hurt your friend.”

The gun in question was a Remington 1858 New Model Army, a cartridge conversion to be specific. Standard eight-inch barrel, six shot cylinder, yew grips. The frame of the gun was bronze plated with silver inlaid vine engravings on the cylinder and along the barrel were runes;

ᚲᛖᚨᛜᛚᛟᛁᚱ ᚨᛗᚨᛞᚨᚾ​

I holstered the weapon and willed the Mantle away, figuring that if I had to will it forth I could will it away. Once again the vines came forth, this time undoing the change and taking the gun along with it.

“Does the gun have a name?” I asked Mother

“Fool Binder. The gun’s magic will turn any bullet in its chambers into fae shot. They won’t kill, but they will paralyze whoever they hit with intense wracking pain.”

She walked up and hugged me tight.

“When your current quest for justice is over, you will be given duties. But for now, please find the culprit. There is also one last thing to tell you; by a trick of fate that I couldn’t predict you’ve been under geas your whole life. A compulsion to face any evil in front of you.”

"I don’t need a compulsion to do that.” I said, somewhat smugly I’ll admit “Not like I’d stop doing it if it wasn’t there, now there’s just more incentive not to.”

The smile on Mother’s face went away for a second, her eyes however stayed sad.

“Goodbye son.” was all she said, giving me one last hug, Father joining in.

“Don’t worry, we’ll pop in from time to time.” Father said “We have a lot of parental bonding to catch up on.”

The both of them took a step back and waved us goodbye, disappearing in an ethereal light.

Evian hopped back up on to my shoulder and perched himself like he was a parrot on a pirate’s shoulder. I didn’t give him a glare or brush him off, didn’t want to kill the moment.

Finn put a hand on my free shoulder and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“Who wants tacos at the M&M?” He asked jovially “All these heartfelt reunions and talk of quests works up the appetite.”

“One shouldn’t start a quest on an empty stomach, dear.” Saoirse added helpfully.

“I could eat.” I told them, not worrying about the small smile on my face.

We bid our goodbyes to Reeve and his apprentice and made the short walk to the market in silence. When we got to the market Lily was waiting just outside, her face growing a determined smile when she saw me. She opened the door for Finn & Saoirse to walk inside and stopped me before I could walk in after them. She locked eyes with me and said;

“Man, have I got something to show you.”

 

Since I forgot to do this when I dropped 2.6 here's Walt's starting Legend 1 character sheet. Gonna run down his abilities and relic like I did with Lily, although since I went over the specifics of stats and what they mean with her this will be a much shorter piece. Although I will reiterate; I am using a house rule that gives both Boons from the Scion's Pantheon Signature Purview and two of their Innate Purview's Boons for free rather than just choosing two total.



BE WARNED! Minor spoilers are in his Paths but it's kinda transparent and on theme so it's not entirely a spoiler, but still erring on the side of caution and letting you all know now.



Once again I am foiled by QQ's thing about linking imgur images. So here it is in link form. Page 1


I am going to just come out and say this: Building Walt as a Scion was a royal poin in the ass. I knew what his shtick was, I knew what stats would suit him, but goddamn his Paths, first Legendary Title, Knacks, Relics, and Purviews were a bitch. But eventually I slammed my head into the wall enough times to figure him out.



Let's start from the top and work our way down as per usual;



The keen eyed among you may notice that his Athletics specialty is equestrianism, normally horse riding is under the pilot skill in Scion (for some reason) but I'm house ruling it as athletics purely because it makes more sense for riding an animal to be an athletic action rather than a mechanical action (at least to me). Walt is a rough and tumble kid and did get into fights with people back home in Wyoming, mostly started by others and thus his Hand-To-Hand specialty. He did a lot of shooting with his Grandfather and went on hunts with him, but he was more a marksman than an outdoorsman and prefers the six gun hence his predilection for revolvers. His Integrity is high by nature of him being the most stubborn SOB you will meet and nobody barring adults he actually respects and defers to (his grandparents or parents) he will ignore anybody telling him otherwise, luckily this has helped him hone an Iron Will as his Integrity specialty. His other skills are all just what I thought that he'd dabble in and thus went with that.



Walt's attribute spread was a lot easier he is a Physical Primary with his favored approach being Resilience, with Mental being his secondary and Social his tertiary. His best two stats; Composure and Dex. Nothing outwardly phases him and his draw is fucking fast, not a slow bastard by any stretch either. He is average intelligence, not the most clever person, and if not for being a juggernaut of a dude he would blend in to the background, he's also not one for lying.



His Title actually came from this reply early on;

Thanks TSBasilisk!



His paths kind of speak for themselves, but his Pantheon path is a minor spoiler. When all is said and done, Walt will be the Seelie Court's personal bounty hunter, fae that are causing a ruckus amongst the mortals will be brought before Dawn (as Titania) after Walt drags them kicking and screaming to her court. Granted he will have to work up to the Big Fellas. According to a friend of mine who read Dresden Files this sounded a lot like the Summer Knight. So a bit of serendipity has given him a nice hook.



Page 2 godammit


Originally Walt was going to be super gimped, basically the demigod equivalent of a mule. Since he was the child of two seperate pantheons, he would have access to neither PSP but still have the downsides of the innates of both (He would know how he dies but not the context and he'd be under Geas but gain no Momentum from it) this would have been a massive overcorrection so I just had him do the thing they suggested you do with a Scion of two deities in 1e with the Deva write up; take the purviews of one and the callings of the other.



Callings; Walt is primarily a Hunter with him just barely dipping his toes into the Warrior and Guardian callings.



Apex Predator - If Walt's target attacks him or tries to counter hunt him and his target is a lower tier than him (so Mortals atm) have a more difficult time actually doing anything to him, if the target is his quarry than the difficulty is even greater



Keen Eyed Predator - You know those scenes in westerns or in an action movie where the hero walks into a seemingly empty location, keeps walking, and instinctively knows about the dudes about to blast him away? This knack gives Walt that power. Mechanically its a knack skill roll and the player would be able to ask the Storyteller the amount of successes he rolled in questions. The example questions in the book are "What kinds of hazards are present, where is the closest exit, whats the safest way in, how many hostiles" etc



Most Dangerous Prey - Remember how Apex Predator had quarry in italics? Thats because of this knack. This knack lets Walt choose an enemy to be his Quarry and he gets enhancement to all rolls against them until they are caught by him (or the end of the session whichever comes first but this aint a tabletop gaming session so it's not likely to end that way). This knack grants Walt to special stunts; Stalk (make another movement after resolving an attack) or Snare (trap the target in place)



Hunter knacks are perfect for making a Dead By Daylight Killer btw.



Trick Shot is Walt's only Warrior knack at the moment and it was chosen solely because its such a cowboy knack. If Walt decides to walk the path of Revolver Ocelot and do some wicked gunplay than the difficulty instead becomes enhancement. THATS RIGHT HE SHOOTS BETTER WHEN HE DICKS AROUND!



A Sentinel is a fun little Guardian knack; Walt guards either a person or a group of trivials (i.e. a bunch of random passersby Walt doesn't personally know) as his charge and thus gets better at defending and they get better at defending (themselves) while Walt gets enhancement to keeping track of and defending his charge(es)



PURVIEWS!



Walt's Pantheon Signature Purview is Geasa. The innate is that he's under Geis and thus gains momentum whenever obeying it causes trouble. Walt's geas is "You must face any evil in front of you". Its boons; Lay Geis and Tongue of the Bard.



Lay Geis allows him to put someone under a geis of their own at the cost of a point of legend (which comes back if the geis is ever broken) with the only limitation being that the person under geis must be able to uphold it immedietly when the geis is placed on them, which means banning someone from wearing red while they're wearing red wouldn't work since the person is wearing red.



Tounge of the Bard is a fun one; by imbuing Legend, Walt speaks the truthful answer of a question he asks (the Storyteller) either in an impassioned speech or a rhyme and gets Enhancement 3 to any action that benefits from it. I can't wait to use this!



Walt's innate purview is a conversion of the 1e purview of Epic Perception (they gave this as an example in Mysteries of the World for doing so) and it was chosen purely because I couldn't think of anything to give him until I already wrote 2.1 and at this point im committed to it. The innate power is that he is immune to all mundane forms of surprise and thus gets to act in a surprise round, unless the surprise comes form a supernatural (or parahuman) source which means he'd have to roll a clash of wills (NARRATIVE TENSION FOR THE WIN!) which means he could get jumped.



The boon Predatory Focus gives enhancement to all attack rolls so long as Walt only attacks a character he specifies. It's the "LET's FUCK UP THIS GUY IN PARTICULAR" power, if he attacks someone else the boon ends.



Third Eye. It's essentially a max level Detect Magic/Scouter supernatural edition at the cost of imbuing legend. Basically magical things come up with a halo of light around them, the brighter the halo the stronger the magic (and the higher the legend if they have one) it also grants enhancement to see through magical illusions.



Epic Stamina I covered with Lily, but Walt has Unbreakable as a boon instead. Unbreakable is a reflexive action, if someone tries to damage Walt then he can spend a point of Legend to negate it, alternatively he can do this counter to negate a debilitating injury or loss of physical ability (losing a limb or breaking his spine)



Fortune! The one I haven't covered. Fortune's innate; Cowboy here can sense the presence of Fatebindings, and if he meets the other half of a Fatebinding he knows of he can tell that two people are bound together. He can also sense when Prophets and Sorcerers manipulate Fate with their abilities even if they normally wouldn't be able to be perceived. This purview is tied to his guide, Evian. Fluff wise that means that buddy cat is teaching him this shit. God help his sanity.



RELICS!



I went over The Fool Binder in an earlier threadmarked informational post, it's a fae shot revolver that can bank shots accurately. His back tat channels the powers of epic stamina and epic dex, not much. If he gets skinned (easier than you'd think with Scions) that counts as his relic no longer being on his person. His armor is The Mantle of Midsummer, it is the uniform for the Knight of Midsummer (totally not the Summer Knight) and is a bulletproof duster that he can call forth from his belt buckle.



We all know about Evian. But did you know his full name and title? Sir Evian of Beantown, Knight of the Noble House of Fiona, First and Only Familiar of The Goddess Dawn, First and Only Familiar of Walt Connolly. Evian is the best study buddy and best magic teacher you could have, however he is a chatty bastard.



AND THUS THE SHEET OVERVIEW IS OVER! ENJOY THYSELVES!



Next up is Donnie's chapter and then we get his nifty stuff out of the way. Luckily he hast more Knacks than Birthrights.

 

Taylor

01/12/11​

When I came to, I heard my mother’s humming more clearly and felt a gentle hand running through my hair. That humming and now the hand thing, Mom would do that when I was really young after particularly bad nightmares. Not unlike the one I’d just lived through. Despite being awake I didn’t dare open my eyes, not after having dreams like this before. I knew how this would go if I did; either my mother wouldn’t be there or she would be leaving me. You would think that small bit of rekindled confidence from meeting Walt, Lily, and Donnie would have been enough to take a leap of faith on this. You would be wrong.

I just laid there, trying not to open my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, trying not to hope.

I don’t know how long I was forcing myself, could have been second, could have been hours, but soon the humming and the gentle hand in my hair stopped. I felt tears starting to form, my breath catching in my throat, all fearing the worst part of dreams like this.

“Shh. It’s alright my little owl…”

My mother never speaks in dreams like this. My eyes shot open, my mother was smiling over me.

Spoiler: Author's Note

Good fucking god. This chapter. It's only 200 words, I apologize, but fucking A this took like 8 rewrites. I am so sorry. I've felt like slamming my head through a wall and if I don't post something I will lose what little momentum I have.

 

Walt

01/12/11​

The afternoon sun reflected on the snow covered park Lily led me to. It was rather small, just a simple slide, monkey bars, and a swing set all surrounded by benches. Not a soul to be found aside from the two of us. Lily was pacing in front of a bench shielded from the snow by a lone tree, wringing her hands nervously. The scent of cherry blossoms in bloom was in the air, and I could hear the roar of the waves despite being so far inland and in the middle of winter. I chocked it up to my new powers.

“Umm…” Lily sat down on the edge of the bench trying to look me in the eye but failing “I really don’t know how to say this…”

“Out with it.” I was not going to sit through forty minutes of awkward silence, especially now.

Lily tensed up, her face cringing. She took a deep breath and then finally managed to look me in the eye.

“I’mthereincarnationofashintogoddessandIbrokeintoWinslowandmadesomecopiesofschooldocumentsthatmighthelpfindwhodidthattoher!”

To her credit she wasn’t gasping for breath by the end of that, but the look on her told me that she was worried about my response. As if I could actually understand any of that word salad.

“Care to repeat that a bit more slowly?”

Lily nodded her head slowly.

“I just found out that I’m the reincarnation of Amaterasu, the head goddess of Shintoism…”

To be completely honest, I had zero room to dispute her claim and just accepted it at face value. Rather than asking questions I really did not care enough to know the answer to I simply nodded and beckoned her to continue, not outwardly reacting to that revelation.

“…I also broke into Winslow’s office, I wanted to help find Taylor’s attacker so I went into the office to make some copies of whatever documents seemed like they could help track down the culprit and I took photos of the locker…”

I’m going to be completely honest when I say that I am somewhat tech illiterate and that I’ve never owned a cell phone. If it were me, my investigative efforts would have been stopped short or I would have taken the original documents. which no doubt would have hurt the chances of bringing the monster that attacked Taylor to justice more than anything. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I can’t do this on my own. Not without severe consequence.

“Lily.” She looked to me, she seemed to be bracing for impact. “You did good.”

She was taken aback by that.

“You’re not gonna say I’m crazy? Not gonna say I was being reckless?”

Odds are she was a scion like me and it really didn’t matter to me who or what she was the scion of. I shrugged my shoulders and said

“You’ve probably noticed a few things out of the ordinary already and I’m not exactly a mere mortal myself apparently.”

Lily’s worry was gone and her usual sunny disposition rose again.

“You’re one of the Tuatha Dé Danann.” Before I could react she had moved closer than I was comfortable (read: within arms length) and gave me a glimpse into her eyes shining with sincerity “Don’t worry, there isn’t some weird divine turf war going on that you have to hide it.”

I turned my head away from her and tried to tilt a hat that wasn’t on my head over my eyes. Something about that sincerity disturbed me to be honest, almost felt like guilt.

“What’d you find?” I growled out, trying not to look at Lily’s soul boring gaze.

Lily ran me through what she found; incident reports, some photos of the bathroom I was stabbed in and the locker. She showed me the digital copies on her phone, letting me read through it all. Two names stood out the most; Madison C. and Emma B. Taylor mentioned an Emma the day we met, and the Madison with the guilty conscience was probably the same Madison C in these reports.

“I don’t suppose you found their addresses?”

Lily shook her head

“Sorry” Before I could respond, Lily moved uncomfortably close with a grin from ear to ear. “But if my assumptions on these girls is correct, then we may just have enough to get all the deets on them!”

Lily’s nose was dangerously close to my chin and I leaned back as far as comfortable to avoid the contact.

“How?” was all I could ask before she grabbed both sides of my unzipped jacket collar and brought us forehead to forehead, my every instinct begging me to break this contact and regain the safety of distance.

“Girls like that share everything to their public social media profiles.” Lily backed away and began fiddling with her phone “The music they listen to, the clothes they buy at the mall, what they just had for lunch. All tied to their real names.”

She handed me her phone, a familiar face was on the screen.

“This our mystery girl?” she asked me. I nodded and got to learning about the girl behind the guilt.

Miss Clements’ social media profile was rather open; in-between the photos and videos of her with her friends hanging out were photos and videos of them bullying Taylor. If one friend wasn’t in the video, they would be writing comments egging them on or encouraging something far more heinous for the next time. The posse seemed to number between five to seven, many of them in some position of social or financial status as far as high school politics went; cheerleaders, athletes, high achievers, one of them was the treasurer for the student government.

After a bit more digging we found Emma B. Emma Barnes. A junior model for a local agency, father is a divorce attorney, mother is a homemaker, elder sister is in university. She had the most venom in her comments and the most aggression in the videos that featured her. If she wasn’t the ringleader, I’d give up wearing my cattleman. There was someone who didn’t have a social media presence that did show up in some of the videos however; Rhodes’ stalker.

I pointed her out

“Does this girl show up in the others’ friend list?”

Lily hummed and started searching, her taps and swipes seemed to blur across her screen.

“No. If she does have one it’s probably set to private or she doesn’t put her face to it.” she said with a grimace “Still, we have a lead and as good detectives we should follow it to its end.”

I felt a smile creep up on my face, glad we were actually about to do something.

“You’re goddamn right.”

Lily chuckled

“So you can make jokes!” She clapped me on the shoulder and I winced at the surprising amount of force behind it “We should stop by your grandparent’s shop first, pick up your cowboy hat, grab your gatitio and your vaquero, and then we can take my moped over to this loca’s house!”

“Do you just mentally flip a coin to see if you’re going to pepper Japanese or Spanish into your sentence? Better question; why are we grabbing the cat?”

Lily skipped ahead as she spoke “Eh kinda, just flexing the trilingual muscles. And your cat left paw prints where you got stabbed, figured he was magic. He a guide from your patron or something?”

“Unfortunately.”

Lily laughed heartily and began running and shouted “Try to keep up cowboy!”

I quickly caught up and matched pace with her and we made it to the music shop without either of us being winded. Once inside, Evian was sitting on the counter with a bewildered look on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something before spotting Lily.

“She’s a scion, you can talk.” I told him.

Evian let out a sigh and pointed to the break room.

“Donnie’s in the back and has your hat.”

Evian said more but I didn’t listen, I was already moving to the back room determined to get my hat back. I opened the door with a scowl and ready to jab Rhodes in the face.

Spinning to face me in a swivel chair that was not in the room earlier today, was Rhodes in his usual overpriced suit, my hat on his head, and a startled rooster with feathers more the color of blonde hair and with plumage evoking a bowl cut around its head somehow.

The strange sight halted my plans and I could do nothing but stare at the chicken.

“Wally we have an issue and it involves this chicken.”

There was only one appropriate response to such an outlandish statement;

“I’m sorry, what?”

Spoiler: Author's Notes

FIRST OFF I WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGISE FOR THE WAIT! So much shit has happened between this chapter and the last one. I started playing Apex (big mistake), I started working 6 days a week 8 hours a day because of one of my coworkers quitting, and that was hell. I've been trying to get my car in order so I can get a better job and eventually move out of state to someplace cheaper. Whole heep of shit. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and this time Donnie's chapter ACTUALLY IS NEXT CHAPTER. Hopefully it doesn't take another two and a half months to crank out this time...

 

Donnie

01/11/11
​

I had woken up at around nine in the morning and my entire morning ritual was fucked for it, orobably had something to do with me not being able to sleep or something. I dragged myself out of bed and threw on a plain white tee and some jeans I had bought second-hand, didn’t see the point in dressing up. What didn’t help was this discomfort that came out of nowhere. Allow me to elaborate; ever since yesterday I’ve felt as if something drastic had changed in the air. As if there were a thin string around my neck attempting to strangle me. I had thought I had felt it when I fried the Vromeros and its compadres but it didn’t feel like this. No, the sensation in the alley was the string being tied in the first place and only now did I feel its snare. Let me tell ya, it’s fucking annoying.

Shuffling down into the penthouse living room, or whatever architects call them, I saw my dad going over something with a bunch of blue collar gents. Pops turned over to me and smiled a bit wider.

“Morning son, casual Tuesday?”

I just did the teenager-who-just-woke-up thing of shrugging and then zombied my way to the kitchen for some plain oatmeal and water. No orange juice today, didn’t feel like treating myself. Pops came over and sat next to me while I waited for the oatmeal to cook.

“Moving day today.” He said matter of factly

“That’s today?” I asked

“Yeah. Movers are here to pack everything up. Best ones I could find.”

I just nodded and started on my now finished oatmeal.

“Once you’re done with your breakfast I’m going to need you to run an errand for me.”

Ah. Ever since I was thirteen my dad’s been trying to get me out of the house more rather than just sitting around moping or practicing. So Pops and I have built up this long list of code phrases and responses for when he wants to trick me out of the house. That’s his code for “Son, I love you, please get out of the house”. I mean I fell for them at first, but every time he’s done this it usually works out for the best so I just went along with it anyway.

With plain oatmeal and all of its comforting blandness in my mouth I asked “What’d you need?”

That’s my code for “I don’t want to and I have no plans, where should I go?”

“I don’t believe you’ve checked out Lord Street Market yet. Nice greasy spoon burger joint called Fugly Bob’s on the edge of it. Pick out a housewarming gift and then treat yourself to some lunch.”

Pops slid me thirty dollars and then got back to the movers. This wasn’t code or anything, just some pocket change I guess.

Breakfast sped on by with nothing else interesting happening, at least to me. Actually I think dad got a call from Gramps or maybe uncle E. I honestly wasn’t paying attention to what phone he answered with and couldn’t really be asked to care. Regardless, after breakfast I had to skedaddle. I didn’t really have the energy to ride my fixie so I just hailed a cab and we made it to there with thankfully little conversation.

When I got out of the cab I was thoroughly underwhelmed. I don’t know where a bunch of cheap plastic folding tables in plywood stalls on dying grass ever counted as a market but apparently Brockton Bay decided to lean into ghetto swap meet chic. Bootleg DVDs, cape merchandise, hippy arts and crafts, and all manner of nick-knacks dotted the stalls. By Kronos’ severed scrotum, this place is fucking boring! I’d rather deal with creepy chick from yesterday than mill around this dump!

And as soon as I thought that, it happened. I turned a corner and bumped into a girl walking way too fast for a leisurely stroll around the market. A girl who was probably my age, stomping around a market, on a tuesday, during school hours. Yeah, totally not weird.

“Watch it ass-” the girl looked up at me, her face shifted from scowl to awe “-hole…”

You know that part in romcoms where the edges of the screen blurs, the cheesy romantic slow jam kicks in, and the heart frames whatever lad or lass has her heart pining for? Yeah, lil miss frizzy haired athletic girl has that. Meanwhile I’ve got Marlon Wayans shouting the ever so iconic “RUN BITCH, RUN!” in my ear. Frizzy Creepy Chick started biting her lip, playing with her hair, and cycling through every other sign of infatuation. It’d be charming and cute if I was in the mood for theatrics. I tried to think of something, anything really, to get me out of this situation that didn’t involve me outing myself as more than human. I sincerely doubt calling down a lightning bolt in the middle of a cloudless day to hit one person would be a good idea.

The stalls might catch fire if she survives the initial bolt after all.

While I was trying to come up with an excuse other than potential property damage and murder, the FCC was opening and closing her mouth while expelling air. I think she was trying to communicate.

“Uh, so-sorry.” Was what I translated the FCC’s Vocal Chord Vibrations as.

I tried to back away slowly from the potentially volatile specimen but sadly there was some poor bastard’s vegan gift basket stand in the way of my escape. I gave the hippie bastard the most angry glare I could before putting on the most polite “please leave me alone” look I could muster.

“I really should have looked where I was going.” Oh good, FCC got the stuttering phase out of the way.

Thinking fast I replied with a “Shit happens, no worries, I’ll just be off then.” and attempted to walk past her.

Sadly she was far stronger than she looked and decided to lean into me and grab my shoulder. I think she was trying to be a swooning girl or something but hot damn did she have my shoulder in a vice grip. I don’t think she understands the concept of gentle.

“Please, let me make it up to you.”

I hoped that she wouldn’t, because if this was how good her grip was I didn’t want her hands anywhere near any other part of me. I tried to pry her hand off my shoulder and move away from the table, only for her to take my hand and pull it to her chest and pull herself along my path.

“I don’t even know you, it’s fine-” I was panicking at that point, that weird look in her eyes was not helping!

“My name’s Sophia.” she breathed out. I could easily guess that she lacked her namesake.

“Greek for wisdom. Nice.” I got my hand out of her chest and started scooting away, she followed me like a cat about to chow down on a crippled mouse. What is it about me that attracts clingy chicks?

“So you know Greek?”

Gods damn it.

I looked around frantically, hoping that I could spy something that would get me out of this shit. Verbally insulting her would only bring about extremely painful, for me, results. This wasn’t like whatsherface the ginger from last month who would be stunned long enough for me to leave on my fixie, this psycho would probably chop me up and bake me into a pie and serve it to her neighbors.

“Yeah, a little.” Bullshit I was fluent.

“I’ve been thinking of picking up a new language myself-”

Gods fucking damn it

“Kinda have a full schedule.” HAH! Perfect out I though of.

Sophia the Pyscho went from smily and infatuated to poorly disguised anger

“That thing with your friend right?”

Oh good she remembered. This was a great out after all!

She pointed at a burger joint, big sign that said “Fugly Bob’s” above it. Oh hey, that’s the joint Pops mentioned…

Oh crap.

“Wanna talk about it over food? my treat.” she said, trying to sound comforting and failing.

Before I could even reply she had a follow up; “My mom likes to say that talking with someone about stuff that’s bothering you helps.”

Did she also teach you her “How to cook handsome as fuck boys who think you’re crazy into a pie” recipe? I bet she did. Probably a crazy ass like you.

“Uhh…”

“Great! The burgers there aren’t half bad. Thick enough to be cooked rare and juicy just the way I like ‘em!”

Oh great she likes em bloody.

She dragged my skinny ass all the way down the road. I was trying to tell the local peasantry that I was distressed with my eyes, sadly these simple fools could not read my eyes for they just looked at us like we were a fine example of young love.

OK, not all of them there was a guy who just shook his head in shame at me as we walked past him. But that’s besides the point. Stupid pasty ripped dude. Fuck you, that dumb ass tiger statue you bought, and your bitch ass boyfriend with the shitty tattoos.

When we got in the burger joint I only had one play left.

“Listen, Sophia?” I said “Before we order, I’m gonna use the bathroom ok?”

She pouted but let go of my arm.

“Knock yourself out.” She nodded over to it, down a short hallway away from the front door. Not a good sign but hopefully there’d be a window I could climb through or fly out of.

I calmly strutted down in there and closed the door, locking the deadbolt and the button lock.

I let out a heavy sigh and looked around. No window. Just three bathroom stalls, three urinals, and some poor bastard panic shitting in the handicapped stall. I looked at the ceiling, trying to find a vent or something that I could get into. I saw one, and noted that it was welded shut.

Who the fuck welds shut a vent?

I had a last ditch gamble, but that would require me to get a different shirt.

Right on cue, the handicap stall door burst open and Mr. Panic Shits rushed over to the sink and got to work washing his hands. Blonde hair, blue eyes, kinda pudgy in a “I don’t do much” way rather than being a fatass. His hair was in a god awful bowl cut. He was shorter than me but that wasn’t going to be an issue. Height was a mutable concept after all. His clothes seemed nondescript enough for what I was planning especially that generic enough looking jacket.

I was going to pay him for his coat, but he quickly washed and dried his hands before rushing face first into the bathroom door, the shock of it sending him to the floor.

I let out a chuckle and applauded his slapstick routine

“Why is that door locked?” he groaned out, his hands covering his nose.

“Cause I locked it.” I told him, a genuine smile growing on my face.

I held out my hand to help him up.

“Donnie Rhodes the Third.” I told him

He reached out with his now bloody hand “Greg Veder.”

I paid it no mind and helped him up. “Nice to meet ‘cha Greg.”

When we got out hands back I rinsed off the blood.

“Got in here to see if I could shake a clingy crazy chick.” I explained to him “What’s go you in a rush?”

“Girl I go to school was getting bullied by some popular girls, one of those girls grew a conscience and sent me all the evidence she had in case something happened to her Well she didn’t turn up at school, she isn’t answering any of my DMs on PHO, her Nymphstagram hasn’t been updated since last week, nothing on Facebook, Agni, nothing..” He blurted out. Greg leaned against one of the bathroom walls and slid down to the floor to sit “That girl they were bullying, something really bad happened and then it kind of just clicked. They found out that she was going to come forward, they shut her up somehow, and either they found out she sent all that stuff to me or she blabbed when they got her and the craziest out of all of them is after me.”

I got the gist, kinda sounded like Sophie the Psycho outside.

“Small world, I came in and locked the door to shake a psycho girl myself.”

“Yeah. Now we’re both stuck hiding in a bathroom.” Greg chuckled out “What’s your crazy’s name?”

“Sophia.” I answered honestly, no point in lying.

Greg’s face tweaked and he just gave me the verbal equivalent of a dial tone.

Never a good sign.

“Black girl, athletic, got her hair in ponytail kind of?”

Apt description but I needed more

“Resting bitch face coupled with the inability to express human emotion that didn’t involve scowling or being angry?” I offered.

Greg nodded and continued “Scary beyond all reason?”

“I’d say creepy, but yeah beyond all reason.”

It was at that moment that we formed a brotherhood of being stalked by a singular psycho bitch. The Bitches Be Crazy Brotherhood. We should have gotten t-shirts.

“Damn.” He chuckled out. “What did you do to get on her shit list?”

I shook my head. “I think she’s got a crush on me and hasn’t noticed that I think she’s crazy as fuck.”

“Say no more. I understand now.”

We stood there in silent contemplation, trying to figure out a way past the psycho at the doorstep for what felt like hours but was probably only a minute and a half. Growing bored with the thinking I asked Greg what Psycho Sophie did to that girl from his school.

“They shoved that girl into a locker full of nasty shit. They fucking shoved her into a locker for seven fucking hours.” Greg’s hands were tightened into a fist. “Took some new kid coming out of his own first day stabbing to grab a pair of bolt cutters to get the lock off and get her out.”

The smile left my face. Blood was pounding into my ears. I could feel my blood getting ice cold.

“Greg. What were you planning on doing with the information you’ve gotten your hands on?”

Greg looked confused and then cautious

“If I could shake Sophia? I was going to take it to the cops.”

Good on Greg, he sounded like he was about to sack the fuck up for the first time in his life.

“Greg. You just made my day.” My smile returned “We’re going to get the hell out of here and we are going to get that info to the cops.”

Greg beamed

“Dude, that’s awesome! But how?”

“I have a plan now. All I need is one thing from you.”

Greg nodded confidently, psyching himself up.

“Anything.”

“Sweet!” I clapped “Hand me your jacket real quick.”

He did so and I put it on.

“Alright now what?” he asked me “Hit me.”

Ignoring the poor choice of words, I put on his jacket and rubbed my hands together. Feeling the divine ichor in my blood start warming up.

“This might tickle.”

“Wait what?”

I felt the Sky flow from my fingers and into Greg, merging his clothes into his skin as he shrank and shifted. Within two seconds, Greg Veder went from a teenage boy with a bowl cut to a golden chicken…

Also with a bowl cut. Yay for the good old Theoi Metamorphosis trick.

While Chicken Greg started panicking and clucking around, I got to work on myself. Looking into the grafitted and scratched mirror, I started tweaking my face. A little more length, a bushy moustache, some gray hairs, longer teeth. All hand sculpted with help of the divine power within me. Finally I shrank and sucked in myself to be able to fit inside Greg’s jacket better.

“Don’t you worry Greg, it’s only until we can get out of this shit situation.”

I leaned down and opened my arms widely and tested out a vaguely Swedish accent “Now come to papa Rolf and ve vill get out of vis playce!”

Greg got to panicking more and it took me about five minutes to get him to calm down and go with it. Granted he did start pecking at me every so often as I fine tuned my accent. When I was ready to go, I unlocked the doors and walked out, Chicken Greg pecking at me while clucking angrily.

As I walked past the very confused Sophia the soon to be jailed Psycho I nodded to her and said “He so friendly chicken yes?” as I hugged Chicken Greg to my chest.

I got to walking and turned a corner into an alley once I thought we reached minimum safe distance.

I let my body and voice rubber band back to normal and got to work trying to get the ichor flowing to change Greg back.

“See Greg? What’d I tell you?”

Chicken Greg was the angriest chicken alive right at that moment.

“Now hold still, this might tickle.”

I got the ichor flowing and willed the Sky out of Greg.

And there was still Chicken Greg in front of me.

I tried again, feeling the ichor flow and willing the Sky out of Greg.

Nothing.

“Greg.” I told him, as he was attempting to fire a Poultry Optic Blast into my soul. “We might have a slight problem...”

Spoiler: Author's Note

Good god this took way too long. Me playing Final Fantasy XIV after shitty days of work didn't help but hey. After two weeks and so many cans of monster to fuel me this new chapter is done. Donnie's character sheet soon to follow. Please let me know if I put in any typos and tell me what ya think. Have a good one.