Tantibus

 Tantibus

 By Noctum Caeruleus



  Summary: They were both mercenaries. Both good at what they did. Both had a family to go home to. Yet, they turned out so different. Hers stayed. His was taken. She kept her humanity. He didn’t.

 How is it the two came together?

 Song: Let It Burn, Red.

Chapter One: Reunion
 "Oh God, oh God, oh God..." He pushed himself further into the corner, trying to hide himself. "Please don't let them find me....please, please please..." A whimper escaped his throat.

 Shadows flickered under the doorframe. Footsteps echoed, stomping, not even attempting to be stealthy. He was hiding in a hidden closet, cowering away from the doorframe.

 “He’s over he-” He was cut off by a bloody gurgle, and the dull thunk of a body falling to the floor. New footsteps joined. Sure, confident, controlled. The coward risked looking out the crack in the door. The side was sickening.

 “W-wait! No, plea-” A near black blade flashed out, slitting the man’s throat. A knife was flung to embed itself into another’s throat. Someone spun around, bisecting an assassin. Blood flooded into the air. It was all he could do to keep his lunch.

 “G-god...what are you?” The person advanced on the final assassin. He didn’t respond, sword swinging in an arc to slash through the survivor’s torso. Flesh ripped and bone split, blood flying only to end up splattered on the wall. With a small flourish to rid the blade of the blood, its owner sheathed it. The dying man gave a pitiful cry. There was the sound of a boot hitting flesh, and a crack. All went silent thereafter.

 “You can come out now, Heir Silas.” The slightly cultured voice, so cold, so devoid of any emotion aside from a minute trace of amusement sent shivers down his spine. The heir pushed open the door, mind racing. He’d made a mistake in hiring this man, he’d crack, go mad, he’d-

 He stopped, staring at the one who saved him. Tristan Silas was expecting an imposing figure, standing well over six feet tall, muscle bound and clad in plate. Someone with a cruel smile, dark red eyes gleaming with malevolence. A being of terror and power, who could slaughter inhumanely.. What he saw….was not his expectations. The heir himself was about twenty five, medium build with a tall six foot five frame. His hair was a light brown/blonde, with stark blue eyes. A delicate prince, though one could tell he was an adult.

 The man who saved him wasn’t even full grown.

 A teen, maybe a young adult, though at the later years. He’d guess about twenty two or twenty three, with stark black hair streaked throughout with midnight blue. His hair was short, and styled messily. Clad in a hooded jacket, jeans, and combat boots, one would expect him to be out breaking curfew and running away from school. Especially since he had a thinner build, the jacket hanging off of his frame slightly.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Not a slaughter. And that’s what this was.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> But there were things that showed he was a warrior. The large scar across his face. The hard glint within midnight eyes, the power hidden deceptively in his slight frame. His confidence, professional. The way he stood casually, but with enough sense and tenseness to move when he needed to.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> But the most obvious was his face. A small half smirk of faint amusement. That's it. No disgust that he had killed, terror that he was a monster, or remorse for the lives he had taken.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “S-so you’re the man my father hired?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I am your bodyguard, yes.” The reply was instant, impassive and cold.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Y-you’re a mercenary?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> He nodded, posture slipping into an almost militaristic stance. His feet shifted until they were shoulder width apart, his left hand clasped the wrist of his right behind his back. His face lost all pretense of feelings. It was almost...monstrous.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “W-what’s y-your name?” The heir stuttered again. Fear was evident within his eyes. The mercenary didn’t seem to care.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “You may call me Winter.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> A cold name, to go with a cold monster. Tristan thought, and calmed himself as much as he could. He was the Heir to the Silas corporation. He had to act with poise and elegance, with a savvy political mind and a fierce intellect.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Something about this man- no, not a man. Not even human. A monster. Yes, that was a word for him. Monster.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Something about this Monster seemed to crush his resolve, and his mind screamed to run, his fight or flight instincts demanding him to escape.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Heir Silas.” Winter spoke, breaking the panic welling within the older man. Tristan swore he saw fangs. “We must leave soon. More will come, and my contract is almost up. Once that happens, I am no longer obligated to help or protect you. So, the best place to go is your family’s estate.” The tone was cold, the air itself felt as if it dropped down a few degrees. Silas shivered.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> The heir nodded, and gestured for the bodyguard to leave. The monster clad in the flesh of man took point, weapon not even drawn. Something caught Tristan’s eye before they exited, causing him to freeze.. The last assassin lay at an awkward angle against the wall, a gaping slash across his chest. His neck was bent a way that just wasn’t natural, and his jaw was clearly broken.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Sir.” Winter called, standing in the doorway. “We don’t have time to waste. Come on.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Tristan nodded, following the other male. The apartment looked like a warzone, blood and bullet holes everywhere. But, for the amount of rounds in the walls, there wasn't a scratch on Winter. His clothes, though ruffled, were pristine. Not a mark on them.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> They exited, and Tristan started. There were no police, people were going about their day to day rituals, cars milled about on the street.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> "So," He began. "What happens now?"

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> ---

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Such a stupid question. The first thought that crossed my mind wasn't a pleasant one, but I shove it away to focus on my mission.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> "Now, Heir Silas, we get you home. And I finish this contract." Came the bland reply. Formal, respectful, no insulting tone within. But no emotion. Something most mercenaries are proficient at. I've been told I've mastered it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> It's easy to master if it comes to one naturally.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> The other man nodded, and off we went. There was little trouble, and it was expected. The remnants of the assassins attempted an ambush. They were cut down and left to rot. The mansion wasn't far, maybe a few miles. We should reach it within two hours.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> ---

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> "Nixia! Nixia! Goddamnit woman! Wait up!" The raven haired woman sighed, and turned. Running at her was a teen, maybe eighteen years of age, with medium length green hair and silver eyes. He wore a hooded cloak of muted forest green cloth. A large, green longbow was slung across his back, a quiver of arrows beside it.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Umbra Silvae, younger brother to a friend of hers. One she hadn't seen in awhile. Sometimes she wondered how he was doing. Othertimes...well, she cursed him for cutting himself off.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> His younger brother had been forced to go to Beacon by a few more radical members of the Academy. His papers were introduced, and accepted rather quickly. Umbra’s brother was….furious doesn’t even begin to describe. The boy broke down, lashing out in a rage at everything near him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> She wondered if anyone had repaired that building.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> He’d shut himself off, became cold, uncaring. Something..less than human. She only saw him once after, the memory still causing her to shiver. His eyes looked dead, aside from just anger, and occasional traces of grim amusement. A shell of what he once was.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Nixia wasn’t sure if there was anything left of the man. While she herself was a mercenary, she never fell into the trap that most do. More often than not, the repeated exposure to cruel and brutal acts of inhumanity leave a mind broken. The men and women break down. There are even some hospitals that specialize in psychological repair for mercenaries. But, there are a few that turn cold. They lose feeling within themselves. Pain is a nuisance, morality an impairment. They’re cruel, methodical, and clean in the execution of their job. And those are the true monsters. And the hardest to put down.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> And that’s what he had become. And two years later...well. He’d most likely only become colder. A twinge of pain shot through her chest at the thought.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Nixia!” The kid had finally caught up to her, panting. He bent over, hands on his knees as he drew great lungfuls of air. “I...hoh boy...wow that was harder than I thought...jesus why do you move so fast?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Get to the point, Umbra.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Right, sorry. Anyways, I need to talk to you.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” She remarked dryly, unamused. While she didn’t necessarily mind the young archer, he was very annoying. A great huntsman, very charismatic. But, for the life of him he can’t shut up.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> He gave her a cool look. Uncharacteristic for the boy. “It’s about Nox.” That got her attention.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “You mean…”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Yeah, he’s in Vale. And he just took a contract.” His mouth was set into a hard line, face grim. She halted, turning to face him. Umbra was never this way. The normally upright and happy-go-lucky teen was serious. Which meant the situation was dire.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “What do you mean? He can take care of himself. One contract can’t going to kill him. At least, none of the ones around Vale can.” Umbra shook his head, green hair falling haphazardly around his face.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “He’s hitting a crime syndicate's Dust Supply.” Her eyes glinted with a hint of interest, but the cybernetically enhanced woman shrugged as if to say ‘And?’.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “He’s handled worse.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “They set him up for it.” That caught her attention. “They do know what happens when you set one of us up.” She stated, referring to their unique side operations. Umbra nodded.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “They don’t care. They’re aiming to kill him. Payback for something we did awhile back, apparently. And they've hired others to do it. Others with a grudge, the numbers, the training and equipment to pull it off.” She gave him a calculating look. Betrayals for more money were common. The two were closer than most...but...there was no way he would, in any case. Umbra'd sooner cut out his own intestines. But, she did want to know where he got the information.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “How do you know this?” Umbra narrowed his eyes at her.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Do you honestly think, I would betray the man, who has protected and practically raised me until these assholes took me from him?!” His voice was quiet and lethal, his fingers twitching, begging for him to draw an arrow, to wound the one who would insinuate such a thing.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Umbra.” Her voice matched his, but with more power, more control. She had a presence about her that commanded respect, and dared anyone to challenge her authority. Came with being an older sibling, supposedly. “Cool it. That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> The younger male settled down, a small trace of shame on his face.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Anyways, why are you bringing this to me?” He brightened visibly at that. Nixia sweatdropped. This kid was bipolar, she swore. One second, moody and ready to kill her, the next bright and happy.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “That’s easy! Since, well, I can’t leave due to them restricting my contact with him, asshats. Anyways, you on the other hand, have no such restrictions upon you.” He finished with a flourishing bow, wide grin stretching his features. The woman had to chuckle at him; he certainly knew how to put on a show.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “And what makes you think he’ll listen to me?” She didn’t want to rain on his parade, but, well. That was a valid point.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Because besides Cobalt and I, you’re the one he trusts the most.” Nixia blinked at that, ice blue orbs open in surprise. Inwardly, though. She was thinking on a secret the two held. Even if she hadn't seen him in two years, he was still hers.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “W-we’ve only run a few contracts together, not much else!” She feigned, rather well actually, surprise. Umbra chuckled, nearly outright laughing. His own eyes of silver were alight with amusement. “And yet, he’s found it very, very easy to talk to you. I think there was one other that he gave his number to in case they were in trouble?” He shook his head. “Either way, you made a favorable impression on him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> She shifted slightly. That one contract years ago had started some feelings, but...she knew she had d

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Well.” Nixia finally regained her voice. “Then where am I meeting him?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Umbra blinked. “Wow, that’s it?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> She raised an elegant eyebrow. “Yeah.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I honestly thought it would be harder to convince you. I had a whole speech prepared to.” He pouted. Nixia rolled her eyes, and smacked him upside the head, before pulling out her phone. Dialing up her sister’s number, she waited.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Hey.” Erin Corbeau's voice came through the speaker.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Hey. I need you to watch the squirt.” Ignoring Umbra’s outraged cry of “I’m taller than you are!”, the female mercenary began tapping her foot impatiently. While she did love her sister, the girl was really, really annoying. Not quite Umbra level, but annoying.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “ Why? God, you know how annoying he is!”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Yeah, yeah I get ya.” Nixia rolled her eyes. “I have a….friend, I need to meet up with. He’s in a spot of trouble.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “That bad? Aren’t you watching the kid for an old friend? Winter, I think his name was? Wait...Winter...the mercenary? That same one you ha-”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “If you tell anyone. I will kill you. Slowly. And that’s who I’m helping.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Alright, alright. Sheesh. I’ll watch the squirt.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I’m still taller than BOTH of you!”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> ---

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Here I am. Back in the city of my birth. The one that shaped me into the monster that I am. The urban metropolis that houses those that took my last family from me.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> It’s all I can do not to scream, and raze it to the ground. Hatred and rage well up inside me, begging, screaming, pleading to be let loose. To be set upon this city, from the most innocent child to the cruelest mobster, and slaughter everyone. But I push it back, and away. And began to walk to the place I’m always welcome.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> The Aurora Club and Bar. I’m parked just outside. Instantly, the bouncer notices who I am with a smile and a nod. I will admit, the familiarity is...touching. It’s been two years since I’ve last been here. I’m glad to know that they still care.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Odd. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Shaking my head slightly to rid myself of the thoughts, I step through the entrance. And silence descends. Everyone stops and stares. I assume I look intimidating. I've gained quite a few more scars, another crossing the other on the bridge of my nose. The two intersected to form what seemed to be an X. One traces my jawline, and trails down by neck. That was a rather...unpleasant, memory.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Nox?! Is that you?!” A voice breaks the silence. One I know very, very well. The proprietor of this establishment, and an old friend. One I haven’t spoken to in too long.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Yes. It’s me.” My voice is soft, but not thick with emotion. There’s time for that later, in a more private setting. As I walk towards the bar, everything is catalogued. This place hasn’t changed much. A few new faces in the staff, a couple extra chairs, slight remodeling. Most likely one of the support beams needed replacement. Those things were always old as hell.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> I sit down at the bar, and my long time friend immediately walks over, extending a hand for me to shake. There’s a slight hesitancy before I take the offered grip with equal strength, and shake it firmly.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “It certainly has been awhile.” The blue haired bartender states happily. Cobalt Armistice. The man whom without his assistance, neither my brother nor I would have a place to live. Former member of the Special Forces Division, specializing in assault and retrieval of downed comrades. A kind person, unless you mess with his club. Once that happens, you understand why he made captain of his squad.

He’s a good friend. And a better man, especially than I.

“That it has.”

“How have you been?”

“Decent.” The answer is evasive, and we both know it. He doesn’t press the issue, though, just nods his head and begins fixing a drink. For that I’m thankful. I’d rather not try to explain what exactly I...am.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “That’s good. Now, since you’ve been gone for two years without so much as a letter, or even a text,  I assume this isn’t a social call?” His voice has a biting tone to it, and I really cannot blame him. That doesn’t take the sting out of the words, however true it may be. But it’s not the whole truth.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I haven’t been in Vale for two years, Cobalt.” My voice is soft, and slightly saddened. I’m surprised that I can still feel that emotion, however faint it happens to be. “And while yes, it is for a contract. I did want to visit an old friend, before leaving.” Especially since I can’t visit Umbra….or her….it’s been two years since I last saw her...wonder if anyone’s fixed that building yet?

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Cobalt’s face shifts into one of minor pain. “Sorry, Nox...it’s ju-”

“I understand, C.” An old nickname. “But I need information.” And from sad to determined, the bartender’s face morphed.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “On what?” I set my backpack down, and pull out a file, pushing it towards him. He takes one look at the cover, and blanches.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Nox...I know you’re good, but...I’m not sure-”

“Cobalt. Please, just give me the information.” He nods, bright green eyes flashing with worry. There’s no need, however touching it is. This contract shouldn’t be much trouble. And if it is...well, I have my trump card. Though, he doesn’t know about that.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “The Black Dragons are based in a warehouse near the docks. Cliche as hell, but their security is tight. Androids, Spider Droids, Guardsmen, cameras. The works. Higher specced and trained than your run of the mill thugs, but shouldn’t be much harder.”

I nod, and stand, replacing the bag on my shoulder.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “You do realize I’m letting them know, right?” The words cause me to freeze in place. I take a deep breath, and let it out. The words that follow are slightly cold.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I know.” And with that, I walk out. And hear one last thing from Cobalt that makes me smile.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “...freakin’ drama queen…”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> ---

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Nixia scowled, and blew out in exasperation. Her foot tapped impatiently. Everything was set up. Her contacts had given her the coordinates, she was more than ready. Her weapons were functional, the cybernetic limbs running smoothly with no complications. She’d even brought a sniper rifle, just for the view.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> So where the hell was he?! She’d been here for about four hours, and the bastard hadn’t shown up! Her sources, good, solid sources the Corbeaus had been using for generations, said he would be here. She had expended sooo many favors, called in debts, everything she could think of. For gods sakes, she had a fucking ammo crate next to her just in case! A goddamn ammo crate! All for this one bastard who wouldn’t, show, up!

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> She was on a rooftop, overlooking the warehouse. The cybernetically enhanced woman was really unimpressed. It was your typical thug hovel, if you disregarded the high grade weaponry, Androids, and the military grade security system Spraypainted on every conceivable surface was a gleaming, onyx eastern dragon. Androids prowled the ground, Spider Droids walked the streets near the hideout. They knew he was coming, and had prepared accordingly. That much was obvious. Hell, even the thugs themselves moved in squads across the walkwa-

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Something caught her attention. Ice blue orbs snapped to movement, the sniper rifle was raised to her shoulder as she viewed through the scope. And she blinked at what she saw. One man slumped to the ground bonelessly, a shadow flickering away. And reappeared on the main walkway. It walked confidently, with a predatory lethality many of her clan would envy. Each step, even from this distance, was precise and measured. The shadow had perfect control over his motions. Nixia knew immediately who it was.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> She refused that the blush on her cheeks was from anything but the cold.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Cries reached her ears. Underworld goons were shouting and pointing, and a squad raced out to meet the male. His hood was up, hiding his features. And when the first thug raised his weapon, a rifle, and pulled the trigger, he did something startling. The shadow stepped slightly to the side, and snapped his arms out. The gunman and one of his comrades jerked once, and fell. The hooded figure spun, and leveled out with a just in front of the second to last thug. His leg lashed out, booted foot smashing the man's knee backwards. He followed the attack with a flying knee to the face. His target toppled, and he landed just in front of the final Black Dragon. The man brought his weapon up, but the motion seemed slow to her eyes. A fist rammed into his stomach. An arm curled around his neck, hand clasping his chin. A jerk snapped his spine, and he dropped the corpse. Every motion was within the span of a few seconds. Seamless, flowing from one to the next. It was beautiful and terrifying.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> The man with the broken knee was scrambling, possibly to regain his weapon. Nixia couldn’t see him, even with the sniper. All she could see was the upraised barrel. His target stepped on it, and drew his pistol. There was no hesitation, nothing that hinted at morality. He just pulled the trigger, holstered his weapon, and turned. One thug rounded the corner, and a large bladed knife split the air to pin him to the wall. He clawed and scrabbled, trying in vain to remove the blade from his throat. But the Corbeau could see the strength leave his limbs, and he finally slumped. The shadow walked over, removed the knife, cleaned the blood off, and disappeared from sight.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Goddamn, Nox.” Nixia muttered, setting the rifle next to her as she raised to a kneeling position. “What the hell was that?” The boy she knew was never quite that cold. Not unless enraged. But...this was a whole new level. This was all too confusing. The woman sighed, and dropped off the edge, using her Aura to prevent any damage to her legs. Even the cybernetic one wouldn’t enjoy hard concrete. The two men in front of her have no chance. Her left arm, the color of blackened chrome, seemed to split, a blade sliding out to the side of her forearm. A row of spikes aligned across her knuckles, creating lethal knuckle dusters. The guards paled, and stepped back.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Nixia shot forward, and slid low. Coming out of the slide, the woman slammed her spiked fist right into the left guard’s chin, the spikes burrowing into his brain. She jerked her arm out, and swung around, taking the other man in the throat. The blade was removed, and both slumped to the floor. Neither had time to scream. But the woman was pissed off. Oh hell, was Nixia pissed off.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> You are in for such an ass kicking when I find you, Nox.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> ---

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> I can feel the jolt of surprise race through his body. His life is in my hands, and he knows it. He probably has a family somewhere. A daughter or son, perhaps a wife as well. And I can decide whether he sees them again or not.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> I twist my hands to the side, a sickening crack rending the air. His body slackens, his spinal cord severed with the brutal motion. His corpse is let go to topple to the floor as I draw my pistol. There are two in front of me, both facing the door. They never heard me drop from the rafters.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Such fools. I fire the pistol, splattering one man’s brains across the floor. The second turns, and I smash my sidearm into his face. He staggers back, and looks up, brown eyes meeting my own. I can see the fear in his eyes, alongside the hate. A high caliber round rids him of his head. And I lower my sidearm.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Pathetic, truly.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Shaking my head, I open the door, expecting to see more enemies. There’s only one, and he’s standing with his back to me. Others are sprawled on the ground in bloody puddles. The sound of unyielding metal meeting soft flesh greets my ears, and the standing guard is sent into the wall, four bloody punctures adorning the side of his head. And there’s only one person I know who uses that.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> It’s never simple, is it? I never should have come back to this place. But, I must face the music, as the saying goes. Or is it firing squad? I could never decide.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> It’s been two years. Two years since I’ve seen her face. Two years since I’ve been held in her embrace. So much time away from her, from her desire to fix me, to the kisses we shared when we thought no one was looking.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Two years since I leveled the building. And two years since I never said goodbye.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> My mask never slips, the cold features never change as I look at the woman. She stands with her arms crossed, hip cocked out to the side. Her own delicate features are set into a mask almost like mine. But there was anger there. Unholy rage, directed at me.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> The feeling I get from that is not a pleasant one, I decide. Not, at, all.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Hello, Noctum.” Her voice is level, with no tremble in it at all. Not a single hint of anger. Just an expressionless tone.

“What are you doing here, Corbeau?” My reply is curt and cold. I can see the anger spike behind her eyes. Her jaw clenches, and her lips press into a thin line.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Corbeau, is it?” Her tone is lower. Lethal. “After all we’ve done together...and you’ve gone off for two years. Two fucking years. Let’s not mention the year and a half of being together before hand that you just left. You disappeared for two fucking years after we’ve dated, after everything, and I’m just Corbeau?!”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “What are you doing here?” I repeat. The words sound dead, uncaring. I feel...unsure, though. But it will pass, as all the others have done.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I’m here for you.” That is...unexpected.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I am in no need for your help.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Seeing as you willingly took on what has to be suicide, I’m inclined to disagree.” Still stubborn. Still thinking she can fix me. At this point, I’m broken beyond repair.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I will be fine.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Keep thinking that, Winter .” A voice called out. Male. Deep in tone. Gruff, no nonsense. Militaristic. The Black Dragon leader stepped forward on the latticework above us, lights flickering on to reveal us surrounded by men, mechs, and weapons.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “The Black Dragon himself.” Nixia sounded unimpressed. Truth be told, I am as well. The man was rough and scarred, bald, with fierce orange eyes and black hair. His arms had dragon tattoos running down them, and one could see the hilt of a large maul on his back. His men, clad in light body armor, had us surrounded, weapons aimed. One, helmetless, steps forward. On his back his the haft of an ax.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Well...boys, looks like we got lucky. Winter, and a new playthi- urk!” His hands go up to his throat where a knife is lodged, blood dripping down the hilt in spurts. I lower my arm to grip the weapon on my back. Anger and hatred surges through me, white hot and burning. My eyes are narrowed, near black hellfire raging within. A glow begins surging around me, tendrils of midnight blue lifting sporadically. The instant he had referred to her as a plaything had brought rage into the field. And I’m letting it out to play.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> I’m surprised. I thought I had gotten rid of attachment. But...this protectiveness...is confusing. But I shove it away. Here, it is a weakness. And weaknesses will get us both killed.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Three beeps echo, and the area where the leader was standing suddenly erupts into chaos. The knife explodes, sending bloody shrapnel in all directions. The shards of heated metal slice through flesh, bone and steel. A total of fifteen die in all. A new record.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> The sound of gears shifting forces my thoughts to take a backseat to reality, as Nixia raises her arm. On it, is a micro LMG. Typhon. A two hundred round death machine, with a high rate of fire, and the accuracy of a military precision rifle. She doesn’t bother with precise aiming; the rounds she uses explode and fragment. Meaning she doesn’t have to score a direct hit to kill.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Typhon comes roaring to life, spitting out high caliber explosive rounds. Shell casings hit the floor as the female sweeps the devastating weapon across the walkways. Blood falls like rain as men scream. Bodies and parts hit the walkways with fleshy thumps. Any man not immediately shredded retreats behind cover.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> I draw Nightfall, the blackened diamond reinforced titanium steel alloy blade fitted for my hand only. My expression gains a bloodthirsty gleam as thugs and Androids poor in. The first one is gutted as I meet their charge with one of my own. Spinning low, the blade in my hand takes another at the knee, the woman flipping over and crying out in pain. Her weapon, an ax, is swiped out of the air and embedded into an Android’s faceplate. I step to the side, a katana thrust slamming into the Android’s chest. A backhand takes the swordsman’s head, and I shove his body away to trip another. There are too many for them to coordinate effectively. And that fact, makes this less of a fight, and more of a bloodbath.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> A chilling laugh freezes the battlefield. The sound emits from my throat as I connect my techknife to Nightfall. A twirl later, and I’m left with a double bladed sword staff. And I plant it into the ground.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> One regains her senses, and charges at me. A thrown knife pins her foot to the floor, and I use her knee as a springboard. Her arm is trapped in a grip, and I spin around, tearing her foot away from the blade and cracking her skull on the floor. I come up out of a roll, and slam my palm into another’s diaphragm. His weapon arm is gripped and I duck under, using it to impale his comrade. That man’s weapon is taken and thrown.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> This is my element. War. Violence. Cruelty. In here, mercy is a luxury granted to few, and Lady Luck is fickle. The outcome is decided by your placement, your skill, your judgement. And your confidence in your own fighting ability. A single moment of hesitation can cost you your life. And these thugs have so many moments…

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> One hesitates as he sees me break his comrade’s neck. He receives his friends weapon through the throat. And Android is left battered and broken, chaingun firing wildly. A woman hesitates to get out of the way. What’s left of her is a mangled corpse. You cannot stop moving. Not unless you have the ability to fight back.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> A matte black blade cleaves a man’s upper torso from his lower. I slide low, Nixia leaping over me in a Superman Punch. Her spiked knuckles catch my would be murderer in the throat. Her assailant receives a crushed windpipe, a broken nose and a snapped spinal column.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> While unexpected, and initially undesired, her assistance does ensure that I make it out alive. And the two of us clear the room rather quickly. All that’s left are the higher ups, who should be coming some time soon. Footsteps signal their arrival, and the leader looks at the carnage with sadness and disgust.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “You...you…bitch...and you...you-”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Monster? Murderer?” My voice is mocking in its cold tone. I retrieve Nightfall, and twirl it expertly as I advance on the final men. “Demon?” One charges. I cut him down with barely a thought. The others all grip their weapons, not willing to run away.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> I guess I can respect that. Doesn’t mean they’ll leave here alive. The Black Dragon charges at me with a war cry, maul raised over his head. A smirk crosses my features, and I meet his charge with one of my own.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> ---

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> It’s all over.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Nixia looked around at the room. Bodies of men and mech alike covered the floor. Most...you couldn’t even tell they were human. She was a Huntress in training, and a mercenary. Blood and gore was to be expected. She didn’t really care about the people themselves, per se. But, it was such a waste of life.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> She shook her head, and walked out to join him. Anger was still coursing through her, especially since he never turned to regard her as she stepped beside him. She was definitely kicking his ass.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “The contract is done. Your help is appreciated. But here, we part ways.” He stated in that same fucking monotone.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Oh. Hell no. I am NOT losing you again, you asshat.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> A smack resounded as her fist made contact with his cheek. Nox staggered back, and looked at her. He was confused, and a little hurt. A bruise was forming on his face.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “No. We don’t part ways.” She popped her knuckles, and rolled her neck. “This is what’s going to happen.” The eldest Corbeau child began walking towards him. “You are going to turn the contract in.” When he made to object, she slugged him in the stomach, the force of the blow bending him over. She knew he was holding back. She wasn’t.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “After that, you will gather your things from wherever you’re staying.” He gave her a cold look, and made to stand up. She punched him hard enough to send him into the wall. The mercenary picked himself up.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “I’m leavi-” She kicked him back down. He swore his ribs cracked.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “And then, you’re going to go live back at Aurora.” Nixia continued, ignoring what he said. A thoughtful look crossed her features, before she smirked. “Actually…” She stepped on his stomach, and leaned over him, her face just in front of his. “You’re going to come live with me. At Beacon.” His eyes blazed in anger, and for a second she feared she’d pushed him too far. But she discarded it. There was no way he was walking away. She’d literally just got him back. And death itself wasn’t making her let go.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Her eyes searched his face. She started with his scars, noting the newer ones. Then she moved onto his eyes. She ignored the glacier like cold, and pushed past that. She saw hurt, affection, confusion. And it was all hidden, locked away behind bars of cold steel she had been well on the way to breaking. But right now, cold hearted rage blazed.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> She moved on to his lips, ones she’d snuck kisses upon whenever she could. He’d done the same, the two of them finding as much time as they could with each other. God, she wanted to do that again...

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “The only reason, I’d go to Beacon,” Nox hissed. “ is to burn it to-” She decided to use the impulse to shut him up, her soft lips slamming onto his roughly. He tried to resist, tried to pull away. The grip she had on his jacket prevented that. And eventually, he gave in. The kiss softened, until the need for air made her pull back. He was confused, looking at her uncertainly.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Why?” She smirked at his question. What he said next shifted her face from amusement to anger.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Why couldn’t you just let me go? You were probably better off wit-” a slap cut him off, focusing his attention on her. Her eyes were blazing with fury, she was nearly at the point of just decking him completely, hauling him over her shoulder to Aurora, tying him to a chair, and then...well, she’d figure that part out later. But for now...

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “We were never, ever better off without you!” She snarled. Nox was taken aback by the ferocity in her voice. “Don’t you ever say that again! You selfish asshole! You have no clue what we went through! You up and motherfucking disappeared you apathetic bastard! We thought you’d been taken! And then we get reports, of some teenager tearing through entire bandit camps solo. Taking on packs of Grimm singlehandedly. Doing these stupid as fucking hell suicide jobs! And that made it worse! Your brother nearly got himself killed! And I...just...” She screamed, and smacked him again and again. He didn’t defend himself, just sat there and took it. The woman eventually got control of herself, and stood.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Nixia moved off of him, and pulled him to his feet. Nox couldn’t meet her eyes. He didn’t know what to do. He’d hurt them, and he knew it. He knew it would hurt them. But he had to. He couldn’t live there, not without Umbra. Not while they were there. It was a miracle that he never immediately went after them.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Then again, he did level a building with about seven Huntsmen inside.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> But...he didn’t understand why she wanted him back. He wanted her, oh gods did he want her back. But...he didn’t know if she would...he just wasn’t sure of anything right now. All the emotions were unfamiliar, uncertain. He couldn’t tell what was what, didn’t know what was going on. This was why he locked them away. It was just...so much easier. To not care, about anything. The money, aside from what was used for supplies, was set into an account. Go out, complete a highly dangerous contract, deposit the money, eat, sleep, repeat. The chains held the emotions back. The thoughts of his family, of her. All was held back by his willpower.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> This woman, with all the subtlety of a Deathstalker in a china shop, was breaking apart everything he tried to do to stop the pain. And he was holding as much of it together as he could. Something in him had died the day Umbra was taken. And...he wasn’t sure if she was bringing it back to life. And that scared him.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> Nixia on the other hand, looked up at Nox. He still wasn’t meeting her gaze, and she could see the confusion written across his features, the fear.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Nox…” She stated softly.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Just...why intervene? Why not just let me die? Why...why did you do that? Why does it matter if one monster dies?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Because it would tear me in two.” Nixia responded softly. “It would break my heart...I barely scraped by with knowing you were alive and out of reach. If you died...I don’t think I could go on.” He blinked, and tilted his head down. An internal debate raged, and finally he met her gaze uncertainly.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Just...why? Why stay...why me? I’m nothing special...just a broken monster waiting for the Hero to come along and slay him.”

“Don’t you remember?” She giggled. Nox looked at her, surprised. She rarely giggled. Ever. “It’s because of that brokenness I like you. I don’t want some Prince Charming knock off who can’t taste anything but his own ego.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> He chuckled. “Prince Charming, really?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Shut up. You get my point.” He smirked, his guard down for a little bit.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Still hell bent on fixing me?”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Yeah. And you, buddy. Have two years of tension to fix.” The runaway mercenary blinked, and gave her a confused look, cheeks flushed slightly.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “W-what exactly...do you mean by that?” She smirked, a half-saucy, half-predatory grin that made a part of him want to run or just stay.

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “You know exactly what I mean.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “...”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Oh you know you want it.”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> “Nixia…”

<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.15;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:10pt;"> ____________