• Published 1st Apr 2016
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Group Precipitation - FanOfMostEverything

Stories set in the Oversaturated World, some silly, some less so.

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Meeting of the Maligned, by SaintAbsol

"So, let's all be honest with each other." The man's companions both looked up from their drinks, one making sure the hat hiding all her hair and the sunglasses she wore despite being indoors were still in place. "None of us actually trust this guy. Or is that just me?"

"No, can't say I trust him either," the sunglasses-wearing girl responded. "I mean, he comes out of nowhere, knows a lot about us while we know nothing about him, promises us everything we've been wanting, and is very clearly not human." A boy with a tail, seemingly dexterous enough to hold his drink, walked by their table as she spoke. "Or, what passes for it these days."

"It's all too convenient," the third person agreed, nervously fiddling with some of her purple hair as she spoke. "But... do we really need to trust him?" When silence greeted her statement, she decided to press on. "I mean, he doesn't seem to like magic being in the world anymore than we do. And you know the saying, 'The enemy of my enemy—'"

"Is my enemy's enemy," the man interrupted, taking a drink from his thermos. "That's all we should think of him as; he's not our friend anymore than Su..." He paused, looking at the girl with the sunglasses. "Anymore than she is," he finally finished. "I doubt we're anything more than a convenient tool for him to manipulate."

"You're a very pessimistic person, Swirl, you know that?"

The man shrugged. "Life has given me quite a few reasons to be pessimistic," he countered. "For all I know, he's watching us discuss this and is making plans to stab us in the back, or use us as some sort of sacrifice. He knows he has the power in this little arrangement, and power's a hell of a drug."

Neither of his companions could really refute his claim, not that either of them tried very hard to think of a potential counterargument to it.

The purple-haired girl eventually broke the silence. "Still... does it change the situation?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Not really, I just wanted to make sure we were all aware of it. So we can plan accordingly."

The sunglasses-wearer raised an eyebrow, a hint of red and yellow poking out from under her hat. "Plan?"

"If we know we're pawns of something with similar goals, we need to plan to make him a means to an end."

The sunglasses-wearer started a bit, then glanced around as if the being they were talking about would suddenly appear. "That's a very dangerous plan," she warned.

"And working for him isn't?" the other girl argued. "We're already doing something that could end very badly for us if something goes wrong, just on the basis that it's the lesser of two evils. Writing something off because it's too much of a risk isn't really an option right now."

"It's a no-win situation otherwise," the man said. "We either blindly work for something that clearly has an agenda, or we give up everything and accept the problems her twisting the world has caused. At least this way, there's a chance for a happy ending."

"Not sure everyone else will see it like that," the sunglasses wearer muttered, "but if it'll mean I can have my life back, I'm game."

"To a means to an end," the man softly toasted, bringing his thermos together with their glasses. "Here's hoping we survive what's coming."

Author's Note:

The problem with iconoclasts is that they hold nothing sacred.

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