//------------------------------// // Quest 1 - Introducing: The Young Devil // Story: Wolf-cubs // by Orrm //------------------------------// Inside a particular pinkish bakery sat a young man of tan complexion and black hair. He wore a black T-shirt with the symbol in the shape of an open wolf’s maw, bar the actual wolf head, two rows of eight pointed, pearly teeth twisted upwards in an elongated C shape as well as a snug blue jeans that hugged his lower half a bit too much for his taste. Under his breath he cursed a certain member of his family. Aunt Aloe really should have known better, he just hit eighteen and already she'd tried to pimp him out... twice. The boy stood at around five feet in height, however, the width of his limbs would imply otherwise. His arms were taut ropes of muscle upon muscle almost the width of his head and not a single area of his body was spared. His arms, the very outline of his legs, even his neck bulged with worm-like protrusions and scars marred his features in numerous, misshapen clumps. It looked unnatural. His face was an oval shape, his jaw was similarly rounded and gave him a soft look that didn't fit his outward agression nor the semi-permanent glare marring his features with thick stress lines and a pronounced scrunch. In summary, wasn't exactly the most pleasant thing to look at. He sighed as his sharp orbs of deep brown scanned the room. By the gods, today was boring. He literally hadn’t done a single thing other than exercise like hell and walk. Worst of all, as of now he had yet to fight a single person...he should have expected that by now. His reputation spoke for itself. Shaitan, Vajra, cursed names spat onto him from greviously injuring anyone who crossed his path, be it brute force or defenestration. Now, no one attempted to glance at, much less cross it. He was aware seeking violence was, in a sense, self destructive. But you simply didn't live through what he had and come out sane. Well, fully sane, he groused. He sighed in disappointment as he waited, strong, taut fingers tapping lightly on the glass table situated before him. Sugarcube Corner. Perhaps the oddest name for a bakery, however, at the same time the most fitting since consuming any combination of confectioneries would most likely give you type two diabetes upon assimilation. Nonetheless, here he was, the strongest individual in this blasted city, sitting on a chair, waiting for a cinnamon cupcake. He hated waiting. There was nothing he could do about it though. He wondered how his brothers were doing, one of them anyway. He cursed under his breath. His brothers….the state of all four was simply maddening. One used madness as a mask to hide his pain, another was a bitter berserker, destroying everything in his path regardless of what or who it was, another was a workaholic who refused to give time for his injury to heal and he, he was a strength obsessive maniac whose only goal was to protect what remained of his family. Pitiful. Infuriating. He pondered on when it all went to hell, their foster mother? No, she was just the nail in the coffin. A glass coffin that contained years and years of abuse, pain and misery, some idiot then threw said container into a freezer. The glass would have broken eventually, practically just a matter of time. His thoughts glazed over THAT incident. What would have happened if they hadn’t snapped that day? Would they have gotten over it? Would they have been better off? Would it even be worth it? . . . . . What was taking the baker so fucking long? Did the cashier go for a quickie or something it’s one tiny fucking cupcake and- WHO THE FUCK IS SHOUTING?! “Hey! Get out!” Gods he could taste the arrogance in that voice. “Yer not welcome here, Sunset!” Southern drawl, he idly wondered how much cowboy cock she sucked to get an accent that thick. Fucking teenagers. He turned his head to the side and glared at the offending girls. One sported a light blue skin color with an athletic build and rainbow colored hair, all six colors of them. The other was just as he expected for a stereotypical southern gal. Green eyes, Stetson, cowboy boots and a strong build. Nowhere near as strong as him but it was a start. A start she would likely never finish. Apparently their shouting was directed at a girl with light yellow skin and red hair with yellow streaks, looked like bacon. Bacon is tasty. Additionally, she wore an orange skirt and a black leather jacket. They all looked fucking gay. Note leather jacket, possible concealed weapons. Note lower body, shin bruising. Six steps. Since neither wore worker’s uniforms they most likely weren’t employees, therefore that ‘Sunset’ girl had a legal right to be here. Besides, by the looks of it, the scene seemed like a personal spat. All the same, he could not have someone disturb his day any further because he was quite literally one hand away from fucking over this entire building. Then again he induced most of his rage…. damn it all, clarity and sane thought could suck him off at 5am on Sunday, it was time to emotionally or physically abuse someone to make himself less pissed off! Four steps. Asura stood up from his seat and walked over to the girls’ table. Also seated on said table were a curious yellow-skinned girl with silky pink hair, beside her sat a pink-skinned girl who had poofy hot-pink hair and the last person was a white-skinned, purple haired priss whose face might as well have been a literal mask of makeup. Three steps. “Lady, if you shout one more time I’ll punch you so hard you won’t be able to swallow your boyfriend’s dick anymore,” He stated his view clearly and precisely, the animosity and annoyance layered his tone and the girls stiffened as his words hit them. Then the rainbow-haired one made what may have been the worst mistake of her life. She walked right up to him and eyed him closely, tilting her head downwards to meet his eyes. She then sauntered up to him and pressed her nose against his while squinting her eyes to...appear intimidating? She opened her mouth to nag, but words never came. Asura brought his right hand from his side and threw a slap at her, she caught it with her left but before she could speak, he hit her across the face with the other hand, the blow holding so much torque her body was flung to the side, spinning a little until she crashed and slumped against a nearby wall, a large red welt forming around her cheek and her jaw hung open and loose. They stood before him, dazed by his display until Captain Countrygirl tried to punch him. He didn’t even bother to dodge. The punch landed on flesh with a meaty yet firm ‘Thump!’ however he was unshaken. Not a single step back was taken nor did his rigid form even tremble and though he could feel pain in his chest burn like an electric fire, he paid it no mind, it wasn’t any different than what he was used to. He then returned the favor, solitary, his arm snapped like a whip, horizontal fist colliding into soft meat under her ribs with a dull 'pham', she instantly folded to the ground while rolling in agony. He followed with a falling knee to the midsection, just for kicks. Next, someone smashed a chair against his head. Keep in mind, he’d been hit on the cranium with metal pipes until they bent backwards, what would a chair do? He turned his head and stared at the shocked pink-haired girl, wearing a blank expression that screamed ,’Really?’ He grabbed a napkin holder and smashed the ceramic on her head. And another one bites the dust, or the floor. All-Pink was certainly giving the latter a good attempt. He turned to the remaining girls. Two steps, opposite side of table. Unbroken glass, heavy phone, heavy purse, left chair. The priss had long since fainted and had fallen on a couch that…..was not there before…. the pink-haired, yellow skinned one cowered in a corner of the room trembling and the one they called ‘Sunset’ appeared to be on the edge between absolute fury and pissing herself. And somewhere in those deep emerald eyes, he could see some gratitude. Too bad he currently didn’t care. “Anyone else?” He taunted, flexing his biceps downwards as a predatory grin formed on his face. “What about you bacon-hair? You look pretty pissed why not take a shot? Eh?” Honestly he couldn’t explain what he was doing. It was instinct at this point and they told him that after beating up the ringleaders you had to intimidate the rest to either stop the fight, or impair their judgment with fear. Sunset didn’t respond, she just stood there, staring. First at the limp bodies of her ‘friends’, then at the cowering and fainted girl behind her, then at the younger boy infront of her who had just wiped the floor with Canterlot High’s Top athlete, shrugged off the well-built farmer girl’s punch like it was nothing, Tartarus, he didn’t even flinch when hit in the head with a chair. He made it look like nothing at all. She reflected on the past few days. It started out so well. Slumber parties, pictures, just having a good time. But one little drop of ink in the water and it all went awry. Her ‘friends’ left her when she needed them most, opting for the easier option of accusing her, ignoring the obvious frame-job the account was. She recalled abuse inflicted on her by the student body. At first it was just exclusion from activities and scorn, but before long simple acts of abuse against her person became commonplace and she regularly found her belongings either stolen, vandalized or both. When she walked to class she would receive a little ‘nudge’ that would send her sprawling face-first into the tiled floor. On lunch the sports team had even made a game out of who could bash her lunch tray with a soccer ball. Extra points if they hit her face. And then there was much, much more. Though the obvious one is what hurt her the most. Her friends, those who she trusted with her very being those who called her ‘family’. They abandoned her without a second thought, their belief so blind that they refused to see reason despite how much she begged, despite how much she pleaded, despite the fact that she was practically groveling at their feet, just begging them to just believe her. And they refused. Sunset sniffled. Her little bout of self-reflection(honesty be told it looked like she was staring into space for a prolonged period of time) gave Asura all the time he needed to calm the fuck down, and so he did. With deep breaths and a hand over his face his rage shriveled and reason took over. He looked around him, the bodies beneath him, the people surrounding him. No, he did not regret putting that rainbow haired freak in her place, neither the cowboy girl, neither the Pink maniac. Bacon-hair though? He distinctively remembered many a harmful word thrown her way since he had come in the sweet shop. Besides that she was showing signs of mania and possible abuse, if the bags under her eyes, pained movements, bruising and empty eyes were any indication. She reminded him of his own family. The way they were at first. Broken little things that knew evil as it rooted into their bodies, the cold of night burning away at their resolve as they were. He remembered one time, they begged, they asked, they wished for…. a _are_t….they wished and……. ……..Why not? He asked himself as a rather odd idea popped into his head. It wouldn’t be any trouble to his brothers, that was certain and this individual genuinely appeared to need a helping hand. And despite his violent nature and slightly obsessive tendencies, he would offer it. If she accepted would be up to her. Asura sighed and worked his lips into a satisfied grin as he spoke to Sunset, picking up his cupcake from a flabbergasted cashier as he left. “My family’s celebrating Christmas this year at that house down the road, 9am till dusk. Go straight, turn left, go straight then turn right at the third house. It’s completely black, you can’t miss it,” The doorbell chimed and Sunset was left to collect her thoughts. Now quite confused she exited the bakery and took the path back to her apartment. She replayed the child’s odd offer in her head and tiredly sighed. At least she had somewhere to go on Christmas. //Side-Section// “Hello, 911 what is your emergency?” “Ma’m there’s a boy in my bakery assaulting three girls!” “Calm down sir would you please describe the suspect, I’ll be sending a dispatch to you now,” “Well, he’s wearing a black shirt with a set of…teeth on it and a blue jeans, he looks extremely muscular, um, has a tan complexion, black hair and I think brown eyes?” “…..” “Sir, could you please state the name of the suspect?” *wooden smash* “Oh God my chair!” “Yes! Yes, according to his order it’s……Asura Fenrir.“ “….” -BEEP-