//------------------------------// // Quest 11 - Lighting Oven // Story: Wolf-cubs // by Orrm //------------------------------// Two of my kin surrounded the newest addition to our home. I observed in silence, my figure masked behind one of the Odd walls. Father had gone properly mad back then, in building this home. He’d wanted a design where he could see us wholly, and we could see naught but dark. It was quite effective a tool He had an technique of him, punishment was meticulous, and the homestead complimented it. He’d leave me in the hallway, dark as night with only pale, thin moonlight to illuminate corridors clogged with darkness. You’d have to stay there. Stay till he graced you with punishment. You were alone, sweating in a night too hot to be cold and too cold to be anything but hot. Minutes passed, minutes tick-tocked to hours sometimes. The longest I’d ever waited was forty five minutes. Counted every second. Forty five minutes in that dark hallway endlessly wide where darkness slid off the sides and the certainty of evil eyes watching to ensure my compliance. At forty six he was behind me, no sound or rustle or word or tussle. But this was not the true torment, merely a, preparation of sorts. Like softening meat, tenderizing it for maximum effection. The first time this completed, I’d lost control of my bladder. Cleaning the blood, spit, tears and piss was a disgusting experience. Strangely, on future occasions, minusing the last item made it no less disgusting. But, I digress, onto the next step in this process. He’d hold me by my neck and cut my reedy legs to ribbons with a belt studded with gems. A belt which once owed its use to our mother. At first it was indistinguishable from a normal belting. But then it would stretch on. Skin blistered and popped open, leaking red and orange-clear ooze like spoiled sorrel. Flesh split to venison pink and then, then it would truly begin. There is no feeling comparative to false gems hooking into exposed flesh and tearing jagged, saw-toothed strokes across one’s calves, A scythe reaping pain in place of wheat. Then, and only then, would he start counting. But truly, enough rumination. This was an idle memory, one my kind, even father, had all sat through, one they’d all suffered through. Some, more than others. But now, they were free larks. Free, and invincible. He knew them to be invincible, for he knew no man, no woman, capable of touching them. He’d planned well. Father taught them well, fear was a tool. She’d taught them better, joy was a tool. Give a man everything just to take it away. A voice like a bottle of shaken gravel ground the words out behind the chair rest. of the one called Sunset. “What, exactly happened, now?” Asura. “Everything was fine, mostly. Just some people from school giving me some trouble,” “-some?” baritone and sarcastic as always. “-not much, I doubt they were going much f-” “-they were going to slap yer dirnk out them hands, I oughta break ‘em.” Orthros lightly joked. “Let’s,” His brother agreed. The joke landed like a lark talking flight, right over Ms. Shimmer's head. Her reaction was nothing less than visceral. “-NO!” Ms. Shimmer's fingernails dug into the armrests, eyes wide as saucer plates Spittle glittered behind filthy-yellowed teeth, for a second, before her lips crashed together in a tight line of conflicting emotion. One pale hand raked trenches across her hair as she started at something not quite there. “I made a mistake, shouldn’t have done that” A shiver run down Achilles spine. He rarely ever heard a voice so haunted, No civilian youth should have that, something was wrong. It, was... off. Not the trill of a killer, nor the growl of shame. Similar, but not. Empty, almost. The realization chased away the tremble in his spine. No wonder his brothers hadn't reacted, for things like this, they likely knew in their bones what he spent seconds to realize. His kin were experienced, more in the fray than him, more animal and instinct than man and mind. “I should’ve let them! You should’ve let them!” “Sunny-s-what are you-” “YOU DON’T GET IT!” She exploded to her feet, arms spread wide, back arched and fangs bared towards their smallest sibling. Whose legs slung over the headrest and head slung down the calf cushions. Her eyes almost shone red, slimy drool pooled in the crevices of her open maw and her teeth seemed far more jagged than any human’s ever should be. “Friendship always wins,” she rasped, sounding more like an old, defeated crone than any youth, ” alwayssss….. alwaysssss……” “Wrong, I wi-” Her hands closed round Orthros shoulders, then slid down, down to his neck and settled on the beating pulse of his heart. The suddenness of it shocked him into silence. From his vantage point, Achilles saw his brother’s eyes widen, then flicker with confusion. Achilles couldn’t quite see, but something else had caught the boy’s eye. “ssshould’ve rrran,” she croned, “but yyou didn’t… you sssaved me…. You’ll regret it…” The smaller boy raised his arms up, closing round the wild young woman and tightening like a vice none could escape. “I won’t. I did the right thing,” At first she struggled, for being dragged to your knees by an upside-down preteen wasn’t very comfortable. Eventually, though, she found a satisfactory position, and simply went limp in his anaconda-like grip. The corners of her eyes sparkled. The distraught teen found some of her humanity in that embrace, she warbled, “Should’ve d-done something, anything else!” Orthros chuckled “Do you really think that?” Sunset opened her mouth to retort, then paused. Then, paused. Then bawled. I smiled, and turned to leave.. My smile, nothing but a small twitch of the lip. He liked this, bonding like basket twine. Building trust, faith. They were going to need it. Soon, I would guide them back to her school. Some would think me a fool for indulging something childish as a preteen's grudge. You'd be right, if that were the only reason. Nothing about that school lined up. Their children grew ears and used magic? Videos of a blue girl running so fast she was a blur? A literal blackout, thought to be caused by an explosion, only for an entire school to ward at the hospital the next day. None the worse for wear? White Bay's hypnotists showing up for a week then going missing after another explosion? Missing Ranger Corps three days apart in the ONLY area Canterlot students camped? Not this shit again. Not again, never again. Gangs can live and die and hemmorage members. That, was doable. But the government? This city was on a tight enough leash already. Not Again If it wasn't clear enough. I...we, have a part this place. This new co-operation between legal and less-than-legal. I shivered. This place used to be hell for us. Hell for everyone but the biggest fish. War, real war where no one was safe but the fattest, oldest most-well-dressed tophat sitting on his throne of bones. We changed that, in... our own small way. No overzealous child is going to tip the balance, not as long as we breathe. Four, was usually enough. Though, it might not be, if bacon-hair's intel was inaccurate. Quite likely. Sunset... he liked her, she was valuable, but only so long as she did not impede them. She likely would, our methods are, extreme, though necessary. No delusional woman who believes in magic is going to stop me from tearing the truth out of a walking corpse yet to die. Already the General was breathing down my neck about White Bay, was going to talk to that old bastard tonight. Now, where the hell is Vandal? Vandal waited in the dim car park. He was cold, the only thing keeping warm was the great white hate burning in his breast. The coarse fiber of his yellowed-beaten jacket reeked of spilled rum, his nose wrinkled. But both red rimmed eyes remained trained on the school. He’d never went to a… college? University? Hell’d you call one of these? … Fuck, he hated the nightly chill, sun having sunken beneath the blue horizon a while ago. Waves of blue-black covered the sky, rolling in darker and darker with each second. The cold was in his head, it hurt anyway, creeping up the hairs of his skin like sea-men scaling a lighthouse. … Time ticked on, and his gaze longingly swept across the distant school whose lights shone warmly like a far ship's lantern. Once, he wanted to go there. To one of those. To be one of them. ... ... ... What did it matter. He sneezed, the light rain having taken its tole, stubbornness rooted him in place. No sickness was the captain of his own fate. She better be here, and he’d croak her for it. Eye for an eye. At the very least. Arm for an arm.