Post by Mister Karma on Apr 19, 2017 21:29:05 GMT -5
((Backdrop beat: Ed Sheeran - I See Fire, Kygo Remix ))
Moments later, Dave found himself on the western edge of New Haven, as per request. He got his goodbye kiss from Grace and his regards from Montana, and the two left at the same outrageous speed as they came this way with. Dave let out a deep breath of relief, the weight of Schilling's death still heavy on his mind. The way the swords dug into the human's flesh, the way he had to close the two like a pair of scissors, how the man's top fell from the waist...he was clearly infected, and he was lost to whatever took his body over. Dave mentally reassured himself that he made the right move, that no matter what the newspapers would say about him the next day, his image was still clear. Right?
...
Right?
No, they're gonna point the fingers at me and Itachi, and we're gonna be like we were back in those "good ol' days," fighting tooth and nail to prove we are different from what the masses perceived us to be.
Dave sauntered down the dimly lit sidewalks of the projects of West Haven, katanas strapped to either side and Cruxis Fang slung casually over his shoulder. The Broadsword was not necessary at this time, though he was itching to have it with him tonight. If it wasn't going to be infected beings trying to suck his blood dry or smash him through a communications console, it was going to be demon slum rats who heard through their shoddy network that the Goodie Two Shoes of New Haven, Daymian Cruxis, done fucked up. To which Dave was just going to smash a few skulls open like delicious watermelon. That or his foot, their asses. Either way, he was in no mood to decimate people unnecessarily tonight. He already knew, given tonight's events, that someone, somewhere, was going to paint him into a bad guy. The Pair of Balls of the Shattered Army, Neutered by His Own Mistake.
A gloved fist flew into a crumbling brick wall of an old three storey apartment building, pieces of red clay flying off in a cloud of crimson dust. The punch was hard enough to go through into the insulation and wiring, shaking the very walls of the building. Despite a social reconstruction out this way, for some reason no one wanted to cooperate with repairing the buildings out this way. The best Dave could do was use his own money from his Lordship funds and try to repair as many of the housing projects as possible. Over the past three decades, there was small progress, though most of the money was spent on the gangs that were associated with Archives' to protect the people who were reworking their living spaces. He had to really talk the construction crews into repaving the roads rather than letting the entire city sink. Everyone was in it together.
Gold eyes scanned over the smooth tarmac that covered what used to be cracked and bumpy roads, over shining streetlamps and gang-tag free single-storey buildings. He had a fight out here one time before a tournament, with a human who just couldn't get hit. Billy. Who the hell named themselves Billy in a brave fashion? He smirked slightly, a huff of air that sounded like a laugh coming out of his nose at the sheer irony of his thought process. Who was he to talk? His shorthand was Dave, that was as generic as you could get. Nevermind his moniker, Mike Basset...
Regardless...
Memories flooded back to him like water bursting from a large dam.
The Hellion Wastelands, Tamarah, their fight, the poison, his tour of the many torture chambers for the souls...the Black City of Gehenna, which he later learned was his true birthplace...his first uneasy meeting with Lord Itachi Kumaria, the tour of the manor, Sloan Lopez and his cocky-ass grin...admittedly, the man was hot, fuckable, really. Spanish ass. Spanish butt. But Dave preferred to stay loyal to Tam, for her sake. Something told him she'd need solid proof he wasn't like the rest...there was...a fight in the hallways outside Itachi's study...Dave was thrown down the corridor...Tam was brought into the training room, Dave ramming his shoulder as hard as he could into the door but to no avail. He heard whip cracks, shouting, and when he could no longer muster the energy to bust down the door, he cursed himself out for not being able to help her. She was tossed out like a used doll, her beautiful skin a mess of bloody scratches and scars. He recalled that harrowing moment, whatever respect he gained for Itachi that day suddenly gone all because he wanted to show power at the expense of a lovely woman who wanted someone to love. She passed out in his arms, and he set her to bed...Ah, right, that was where he met the hot panther demon. Sloan lied through his teeth, trying to get the long time combat vet to slip up. Something about an angel hunt. The way Sloan presented it just seemed...offputting, to say the least. He prodded at the wolf then, trying to get some kind of rile out of him. Give him a break, he was wandering the Wastelands for two years in the same shitty clothing in search of a man he was never going to exact his revenge and karma upon! The fear of failure stopped Dave from all action against his retaliations. The mere presence of Hell was enough to make a hardened war veteran of several wars suddenly question every reason why he existed, demon blood be damned! He basically allowed the panther the opening, and there he was entangled in a massive snake who would later become a good friend...and a fun lay. Itachi lost his shit soon after, and Tam was in the bath chambers with Zep, getting proper treatment for her broken arm and numbering scars. They both got ti good that night. All the fox demon knew how to do back then was lose his shit at a sneeze. That changed dearly, Dave smirked. Necromancing...his future told...talking...kissing...talking more...kissing more...more passion...more intimacy...some time during the night they had gotten comfortable enough with each other to make a few bangs, booms and pows...the next morning, Sloan was present again and decided to make it a point to harass his former weed client. A full fledged fight broke out, and Dave was badly poisoned. He could take poisons of that level before in his merc and 'Nam days, so why was it quickly melting his insides then? Itachi must have had a change of heart because he gave him a medicine that stopped the poison from furthering the damage in his bloodstream, and gave him a way home. God, Dave was so embarrassed. He felt like he couldn't face Tam ever again after that. Shame filled his body like molten lava, and at that point, he lost care as to who he truly was, or what his purpose had been.
More memories...
Trent and TEK, the werewolves, his first true fight with Itachi on the surface was about to unfold, its sudden interruption by some human--Ancient?--who complained he was late for work at the local Spindle Convenience. All Dave wanted was a good match with the man who would become his best friend. He ended up saying fuck this place and heading...here. His home at the time. All the gang activity in a hole-in-the-wall part of town that was about ready to be ripped to shreds by the Powers That Be...He always swore up and down that he was going to make a significant difference in the State.
He met a wolf girl...a white wolf...she was kinda sexy...a little too much...virgin, clearly, but still unashamed to show him skin...he thought he lost all hope with Tam given his tailless-between-the-legs exit he took from Hell...they had a battle with an old enemy in Raven Village, with help from a wolf priestess...Naoko Wolfbane...he'd never forget that name...he and the white wolf, Nanako...they happened...they happened...several times in the room at the inn...they had a beach trip that week...yup, there was the confidence in the bikini she chose...swimming...throwing mud at each other underwater...climbing the cliff-side to an old hideout he and his cousin shared, littered with posters and merchandise from his old band days...Australian hard-rock band, Heavy Voltage...more nostalgia from those posters, but his eyes were on Nana...they happened on the towel-covered couch in there...
Itachi dropped by some time later that month one evening to pick him up, stating that one Zeron Drear Cruxis had been disposed of, and that Cruxis Manor was looking for an heir to take up the estate. Somehow, ol' Daymian Cruxis here matched the description of the man's long-thought-dead son. Something told him to take it, much as Dave didn't want to. He had lost his career with Super Groceries as the meat manager, all because he went missing in Hell during a vacation he took. He was about to lose his house--or he already did lose his home--and he was going to be rendered homeless and, once again, a complete mess. Why did he continue living? At that age of 321, he only had another handful of centuries left before he'd kick the bucket. Did he?
The wolf lord snapped out of Memory Lane for a moment...
He dropped his fist from the wall, glancing at it with a sort of shocked, wide-eyed frown. He glanced at his fist for a moment, then back to the hole, and the nodded to himself.
Note to self. I'm paying for that from my own pocket tomorrow.
Dave shook his fist off, sighed and continued a more brisk walk towards the woods at the far end of the long road. Sometimes, he missed those days. They were simpler times. Simpler, uneasy times. Hanging out in the ferret demon's basement, drinking beers trying to get drunk, only to realize he couldn't get drunk. Cursed liver of his.
Stop reminiscing, you got some in-laws to save!
His mind was set on the present once more, brow furrowed, a purpose in his stride. Dave would reminisce another time, when it was time to save the city from its certain destruction from the artifact puppets. His foot touched the soft grass of the forest and he soon entered, sniffing around for Vitani and her dozens of children...
Moments later, Dave found himself on the western edge of New Haven, as per request. He got his goodbye kiss from Grace and his regards from Montana, and the two left at the same outrageous speed as they came this way with. Dave let out a deep breath of relief, the weight of Schilling's death still heavy on his mind. The way the swords dug into the human's flesh, the way he had to close the two like a pair of scissors, how the man's top fell from the waist...he was clearly infected, and he was lost to whatever took his body over. Dave mentally reassured himself that he made the right move, that no matter what the newspapers would say about him the next day, his image was still clear. Right?
...
Right?
No, they're gonna point the fingers at me and Itachi, and we're gonna be like we were back in those "good ol' days," fighting tooth and nail to prove we are different from what the masses perceived us to be.
Dave sauntered down the dimly lit sidewalks of the projects of West Haven, katanas strapped to either side and Cruxis Fang slung casually over his shoulder. The Broadsword was not necessary at this time, though he was itching to have it with him tonight. If it wasn't going to be infected beings trying to suck his blood dry or smash him through a communications console, it was going to be demon slum rats who heard through their shoddy network that the Goodie Two Shoes of New Haven, Daymian Cruxis, done fucked up. To which Dave was just going to smash a few skulls open like delicious watermelon. That or his foot, their asses. Either way, he was in no mood to decimate people unnecessarily tonight. He already knew, given tonight's events, that someone, somewhere, was going to paint him into a bad guy. The Pair of Balls of the Shattered Army, Neutered by His Own Mistake.
A gloved fist flew into a crumbling brick wall of an old three storey apartment building, pieces of red clay flying off in a cloud of crimson dust. The punch was hard enough to go through into the insulation and wiring, shaking the very walls of the building. Despite a social reconstruction out this way, for some reason no one wanted to cooperate with repairing the buildings out this way. The best Dave could do was use his own money from his Lordship funds and try to repair as many of the housing projects as possible. Over the past three decades, there was small progress, though most of the money was spent on the gangs that were associated with Archives' to protect the people who were reworking their living spaces. He had to really talk the construction crews into repaving the roads rather than letting the entire city sink. Everyone was in it together.
Gold eyes scanned over the smooth tarmac that covered what used to be cracked and bumpy roads, over shining streetlamps and gang-tag free single-storey buildings. He had a fight out here one time before a tournament, with a human who just couldn't get hit. Billy. Who the hell named themselves Billy in a brave fashion? He smirked slightly, a huff of air that sounded like a laugh coming out of his nose at the sheer irony of his thought process. Who was he to talk? His shorthand was Dave, that was as generic as you could get. Nevermind his moniker, Mike Basset...
Regardless...
Memories flooded back to him like water bursting from a large dam.
The Hellion Wastelands, Tamarah, their fight, the poison, his tour of the many torture chambers for the souls...the Black City of Gehenna, which he later learned was his true birthplace...his first uneasy meeting with Lord Itachi Kumaria, the tour of the manor, Sloan Lopez and his cocky-ass grin...admittedly, the man was hot, fuckable, really. Spanish ass. Spanish butt. But Dave preferred to stay loyal to Tam, for her sake. Something told him she'd need solid proof he wasn't like the rest...there was...a fight in the hallways outside Itachi's study...Dave was thrown down the corridor...Tam was brought into the training room, Dave ramming his shoulder as hard as he could into the door but to no avail. He heard whip cracks, shouting, and when he could no longer muster the energy to bust down the door, he cursed himself out for not being able to help her. She was tossed out like a used doll, her beautiful skin a mess of bloody scratches and scars. He recalled that harrowing moment, whatever respect he gained for Itachi that day suddenly gone all because he wanted to show power at the expense of a lovely woman who wanted someone to love. She passed out in his arms, and he set her to bed...Ah, right, that was where he met the hot panther demon. Sloan lied through his teeth, trying to get the long time combat vet to slip up. Something about an angel hunt. The way Sloan presented it just seemed...offputting, to say the least. He prodded at the wolf then, trying to get some kind of rile out of him. Give him a break, he was wandering the Wastelands for two years in the same shitty clothing in search of a man he was never going to exact his revenge and karma upon! The fear of failure stopped Dave from all action against his retaliations. The mere presence of Hell was enough to make a hardened war veteran of several wars suddenly question every reason why he existed, demon blood be damned! He basically allowed the panther the opening, and there he was entangled in a massive snake who would later become a good friend...and a fun lay. Itachi lost his shit soon after, and Tam was in the bath chambers with Zep, getting proper treatment for her broken arm and numbering scars. They both got ti good that night. All the fox demon knew how to do back then was lose his shit at a sneeze. That changed dearly, Dave smirked. Necromancing...his future told...talking...kissing...talking more...kissing more...more passion...more intimacy...some time during the night they had gotten comfortable enough with each other to make a few bangs, booms and pows...the next morning, Sloan was present again and decided to make it a point to harass his former weed client. A full fledged fight broke out, and Dave was badly poisoned. He could take poisons of that level before in his merc and 'Nam days, so why was it quickly melting his insides then? Itachi must have had a change of heart because he gave him a medicine that stopped the poison from furthering the damage in his bloodstream, and gave him a way home. God, Dave was so embarrassed. He felt like he couldn't face Tam ever again after that. Shame filled his body like molten lava, and at that point, he lost care as to who he truly was, or what his purpose had been.
More memories...
Trent and TEK, the werewolves, his first true fight with Itachi on the surface was about to unfold, its sudden interruption by some human--Ancient?--who complained he was late for work at the local Spindle Convenience. All Dave wanted was a good match with the man who would become his best friend. He ended up saying fuck this place and heading...here. His home at the time. All the gang activity in a hole-in-the-wall part of town that was about ready to be ripped to shreds by the Powers That Be...He always swore up and down that he was going to make a significant difference in the State.
He met a wolf girl...a white wolf...she was kinda sexy...a little too much...virgin, clearly, but still unashamed to show him skin...he thought he lost all hope with Tam given his tailless-between-the-legs exit he took from Hell...they had a battle with an old enemy in Raven Village, with help from a wolf priestess...Naoko Wolfbane...he'd never forget that name...he and the white wolf, Nanako...they happened...they happened...several times in the room at the inn...they had a beach trip that week...yup, there was the confidence in the bikini she chose...swimming...throwing mud at each other underwater...climbing the cliff-side to an old hideout he and his cousin shared, littered with posters and merchandise from his old band days...Australian hard-rock band, Heavy Voltage...more nostalgia from those posters, but his eyes were on Nana...they happened on the towel-covered couch in there...
Itachi dropped by some time later that month one evening to pick him up, stating that one Zeron Drear Cruxis had been disposed of, and that Cruxis Manor was looking for an heir to take up the estate. Somehow, ol' Daymian Cruxis here matched the description of the man's long-thought-dead son. Something told him to take it, much as Dave didn't want to. He had lost his career with Super Groceries as the meat manager, all because he went missing in Hell during a vacation he took. He was about to lose his house--or he already did lose his home--and he was going to be rendered homeless and, once again, a complete mess. Why did he continue living? At that age of 321, he only had another handful of centuries left before he'd kick the bucket. Did he?
The wolf lord snapped out of Memory Lane for a moment...
He dropped his fist from the wall, glancing at it with a sort of shocked, wide-eyed frown. He glanced at his fist for a moment, then back to the hole, and the nodded to himself.
Note to self. I'm paying for that from my own pocket tomorrow.
Dave shook his fist off, sighed and continued a more brisk walk towards the woods at the far end of the long road. Sometimes, he missed those days. They were simpler times. Simpler, uneasy times. Hanging out in the ferret demon's basement, drinking beers trying to get drunk, only to realize he couldn't get drunk. Cursed liver of his.
Stop reminiscing, you got some in-laws to save!
His mind was set on the present once more, brow furrowed, a purpose in his stride. Dave would reminisce another time, when it was time to save the city from its certain destruction from the artifact puppets. His foot touched the soft grass of the forest and he soon entered, sniffing around for Vitani and her dozens of children...