Paper Molotov: Leftover Emotion

[Molotov]

(solo)

"Save us from what we have become tonight. Eyes raised with disgust, no sense of wrong or right"
- Rise Against

[Molotov]

It was a tavern, much like many others in central Radasanth. The bartender was a tough ex mercenary who kept a crossbow under the bar, while the barmaids were more considerably buxom than the average Althanian woman. Everyone there was hospitable for money or information, and this afternoon, the tavern was buzzing with a particularly juicy story. It was Molotov, the self proclaimed Gisela champion and noted enemy of the Radasanth nobles, he had come to the city and performed well in the Citadel. No one was sure of where he was going, but quite a few people wondered about what kind of havoc might ensue within their city.

Mara Jade couldn’t believe the news. After everything she’d been through in the past year, it had seemed impossible. Now she cringed at the idea. After a while of hearing nothing from the mohawked mutant, she had figured that he had disappeared just like so many other would be heroes. However, this new news said something completely different. Molotov was a survivor, a survivor who could very likely be coming for her soon. Nervously, Mara rubbed a finger over the stoppers of the two vials she kept in her trench coat pocket just to make sure they were still there. Molotov was clever, and for all Mara knew he may have already stolen the vials from her.

“Just exactly what I needed,” the female mutant muttered to herself. For Mara Jade, it seemed that practically every time she was rid of him, Molotov’s ostentatiously colored mohawk would manage to pop up somewhere. For the past year, it had almost felt like she had been done with him. Mara had been bold in the meantime. The calculating shapeshifter had made the most of the vials of serum she had stolen from Molotov. One, she had used on herself to give her potent poison abilities, the other two she had been attempting to sell for almost a year. Far too often, the threat of Molotov had deterred her from making a sale for the kind of money she had been seeking, but recently things had changed. Until this story she’d heard from the Citadel, it seemed that Molotov had finally disappeared. If he were back, it would mean that the price for his stolen property would decrease as well.

Mara sighed. The shapeshifter felt as if Molotov lived only to terrorize her. He had been a thorn in her side for more than a few years now. She had first met the mutant before he was anything more than a common criminal trying to escape to Berevar, and had somehow been sucked up enough in the siren song of war to follow him to Gisela. He had abandoned them there, somehow had enough gall to claim he’d found a conscience, got arrested in Haidia, escaped their jail cells, entered another tournament and had then just disappeared. Things had gotten better for her for a while, but they were going to get worse.

All of a sudden, Mara’s fists trembled, she bit her lip and was forced to sit down. Immediately, her face turned white and it felt like all her eyes could see was rage. There was so much fury in the shapeshifter’s heart for her former general. He had promised them so much, and had betrayed his fellow mutants. Some of the things she had read at Jamison academy had made her a bit sympathetic to Molotov, but that was of little solace to her now. She hated him… passionately.

“So,” she mumbled to herself. “Molotov’s back… time to see where he’s been.”

She gripped a fork nearby so tightly that it left a deep imprint in her pliable flesh before exhaling deeply and getting up. If the Citadel rumors were true, Molotov had arrived carrying food from Shanleh. Mara displayed a sickening smile. She had a trip to make, and by the time she returned to this tavern, someone would be dead. Mara Jade had no intention of going through any of this again.

[Molotov]

It wasn’t difficult to get on a ferry for Mara, especially because of how easily she could change her appearance. Even then, it wasn’t easy to get from Corone to the lands in the Far East. Once she got there, it wasn’t surprising for Mara to see why. “Well I’ve traded the civilization of Radasanth, such that it was, for a bunch of rice fields and women with no teeth,” Mara had muttered to herself as she stepped off the docks. There was nothing around her but rice fields and houses of paper and bamboo. For a moment, the shapeshifter wished she had the powers of the storms just so she could watch as the people looked on at their houses in total disbelief.

“I suppose they at least have good weather here,” she thought to herself. Almost immediately, Mara wondered how it was that someone like Molotov would have ended up in a place like this. Sure, he may have been seeking anonymity, but there were certainly places with more dignity to them than Shanleh. Even Berevar, with its mysterious races and dense fir trees was better. Mara cussed a bit and then slapped at her shoulder to shoo away a bug.

Taking a deep exhale, Mara stared into a nearby pool of stagnant water. “Even the bugs are more tolerable in Berevar…” she cursed, only to notice that two young children were staring at her curiously. They giggled a bit at her, only adding to Mara’s frustrations.

Mara’s eyes narrowed on the kids. She didn’t speak any Nihongo but she was certain that children all over the world understood the language of hostility. “Would you get out of here?” she hissed, only then to turn into a wolf for good measure.

The children screamed and ran away, and Mara changed shape again, morphing from a wolf into none other than Molotov. She smiled, practicing Molotov’s arrogant smirk for a moment before she began to move with a swagger similar to that of her former general. It didn’t take much trouble for her to wear her face in a perpetually sour sneer, especially among this lackadaisical town in the middle of nowhere.

As Molotov, Mara hoped she might attract a bit of attention. Certainly, given her former general’s propensity to get himself in trouble everywhere he went, Mara was certain that she’d be able to get a better image of the legacy that Molotov had left on the village. As she walked by the paper houses, it was clear how people reacted. Children were barred from leaving their houses, and it even seemed as if the town’s few warriors were readying to unsheathe their katanas.

“Looks like they love him here just as much as they do other places,” Mara mused silently. After passing by over thirty houses where she received a similar reaction, she finally found someone willing to come out of the door and talk to her.

“Sorry Molotov-san… you come back now?” an older lady asked confusedly. “You come here or monastery?”

Poor tradespeak not withstanding, Mara was pleased just to hear someone who could speak the same language as her. Additionally, the thought of a monastery particularly interested her. That would be the kind of place that kept written records.

“Monastery,” she replied. “Also, I’m looking for any written material I left behind the last time.”

“Okay…” the older lady replied. “You want monastery Molotov-san, what written material?”

Mara sighed. Apparently, the woman’s common wasn’t as good as she’d hoped. “You know, written,” Mara said. She held out one of her palms and then pretended to write on the other. “Yeah… like a book?”

A bit warily, the older lady tried to confirm what it was she had been asked to do. “Molotov-san want shoseki?” she asked, as if she was suddenly confused by the lack of Nihongo that he spoke.

“Yes… shoseki… fine…” Mara replied, rolling her eyes as if she couldn’t deal with this woman anymore.

The elderly woman smiled a smile of relief. “I go get… and then palanquin for monastery…”

Mara smiled also, though hers was considerably less warm. “Finally…” she muttered under her breath.

[Molotov]

Mara soon found herself seated in a rather crude palanquin, clutching Molotov’s book in her hand. However, it was comfortable enough, and its curtains provided the shapeshifter with enough privacy. At the very least, Mara saw it as an opportunity to read up on the events that were detailed in this latest journal that she’d found. It was quite an interesting one. To the best of Mara’s knowledge, it was the first diary that Molotov had kept since being expelled from Jamison Academy. Perhaps more enticingly, the cover contained a few crude drawings of beakers and nucleic acids, making Mara wonder if the book didn’t contain information on new experiments Molotov had conducted about genetic mutation. Mara wondered if there weren’t a few more vials of mutagen left somewhere on the island.

Now, Mara ran her hands over the book. It was very simple, probably bought on the islands. The paper was made of bamboo, it was rough, brittle and had yellowed rather quickly. The writings were done in with a particularly primitive quill, providing a less than flattering depiction of Molotov’s penmanship. However, it was satisfactory to read. Parts of it had been put down in Nihongo, but the vast majority was in Tradespeak.

Mara quickly thumbed through it, just to see if there were any specific references to new serums developed. She found none. “He wouldn’t have written something like that down,” she realized. “I’ll have to check the monastery, see if he also left anything with them…”

She sighed. Mara had come primarily for information, though the thought of added treasure was particularly alluring. She didn’t want either to be any more difficult than it would have to be. However, with all the people she was going to have to interact with, Mara knew she was going to have to know as much about Molotov’s experiences in Shanleh as she could learn. With that, she began reading the first page of Molotov’s journal attentively.


This is life for me now. I had to flee Ashiakin and the Forgotten Ones, and I know of few places as remote and desolate as Shanleh. My intentions here are to train, get some discipline, figure out what bloody went wrong with my life and all that rot. I’ll be doing some work, smoking fags and everything else I always do… I’m not sure why I’m writing this, I haven’t really written anything like this in a while, but sometimes I’m just bloody lonely here. Nobody speaks the same language, save for the master Sensei at the monastery. He’s teaching me Nihongo, but every bloody word he says sounds like some sodding kind of Coronian Fish delicacy. Even then, whatever problems happen here sure beat being hunted down on Corone. However, the rap will die down soon, and then I’ll just be bloody happy to get out of this sodding place. Mara Jade still has my potions, I won't bloody let her keep them.

Mara smiled humorlessly. “Yes you will…” she said. “And just wait till I find you.”

[Molotov]

The introduction explained quite a few things for Mara. Now she knew why Molotov had come here, why her former general had been so willing to come to such an annoyingly primitive place. It was informative, but the shapeshfiter knew that wouldn’t be enough for the monks when she reached the monastery. Curious, Mara reached her head out of the palanquin just long enough to ask.

“How much longer?” she asked.

The man in the front of the palanquin looked back but said nothing. Mara rolled her eyes. “Another one of these stupid people that doesn’t speak Tradespeak,” she thought snidely. “No wonder these people have been left behind in the dust.” For a brief moment, Mara toyed with the idea of taking over Shanleh. Given the average intelligence of people around her, the shapeshifter figured that it wouldn’t be too difficult for her to raise the kind of army necessary for the task.

A smile appeared on her face. “Wouldn’t it burn Molotov to know I succeeded where he failed?” she mused out loud. She didn’t expect anyone to respond, but the man in the back spoke up.

“La… mem… la” the man gestured. He pointed over towards a large stone building at the top of a hill. It was likely that they would reach there in less than ten minutes.

This brought Mara out of her daydream. “That’s the monastery?” she asked.

The palanquin-bearer nodded.

Mara gulped. She didn’t realize it would be so soon. Quickly, she began to flip through the pages for something that would explain what Molotov was doing at the monastery, and hopefully some references to anything he may have left there. After thumbing through about a quarter of the book, a page labeled “Daily Routine” caught the shapeshifter’s eye.


I bloody hate this job, but it gives me something to do. I don’t really want to spend the quid on training anywhere else, but the way they make you pay here is bloody disgusting. I have no privacy, I share a room with six other students, none of whom speak a damn word of Tradespeak. At the very least, no one but the master sensei can read it, so no one bloody goes over what I write down here. I’d probably get in trouble if the master saw it, but I don’t bloody care. He tells me not to swear, but sometimes I just wonder if he isn’t another ponce. I’ve been here for eight weeks and I’ve done nothing more than sweep the floors and clean toilets. Who’d have bloody thought that monks can be this sodding dirty.

Bloody hell…

Mara bit her lip. It was something, but not much.

[Molotov]

Now that she had a vague idea of Molotov’s duties and goals at the monastery, Mara thought it best to skip to the end. If this was the totality of the mutant’s journey’s in Shanleh, the monastery was likely to feature very prominently in the end. Mara felt she needed to know on just what terms it was that Molotov had headed back for Corone. She didn’t doubt that he had left on his own volition, but the fact of the matter was that Molotov always left a place with creating a bad impression.

“It’s almost as if the idiot is cursed,” Mara mused. “He really just can’t win…”

With that, she flipped the book over to the last page and began to read.


My time in Shanleh was well spent, at least as far as events go. I’ve gained a bit more skill in hand to hand from the monastery, and learned a number of additional ways that I can use my body as a weapon. I suppose that’s important now, because I’ll be going back to fight. I don’t really want to leave here, but Sensei is right. I have to seek redemption somehow. Working on potions just isn’t enough. It is with regret that I leave, not only because I will miss this place, because my new creations are left undone. Not yet, will they be of any good to anyone.

I murdered to create this hole in me, and it seems like I’ll have no choice but to murder my way out of it. It’s bloody poetic justice of the worst kind. The only thing I don’t want to do anymore, I’ve go no choice but… feels bloody disgusting.

There was a great deal more, mentions of specific people in Shanleh, such as the people in the town below and monks at the monastery. There was even some mention of people from the Mutant Misfits, such as Jennie Stormer and Jeremiah. However, they had reached the monastery now. Mara had people to meet.

The one thing she knew now with certainty was Molotov had been keeping busy. The mention of potions had certainly caught her eye. Now, the shapeshifter felt particularly more anxious. Her poison abilities had already emerged because of Molotov’s lab work. She wondered what kind of goodies he would have concocted in Shanleh.

[Molotov]

Mara was still in her disguise as Molotov when she entered into the monastery. When she arrived there, she was pleasantly surprised by the reception that she got. A pair of monks seemed to waiting to greet her, and they both bowed their heads respectfully as they offered what seemed to be a ceremonial greeting. Mara made note of it, just in case she was going to need to copy it later. They had pressed their hands together in front of their torsos and nodded their heads slightly as if they were offering a subtle bow. Mara only smiled back, a bit uncomfortably, if only because she felt that Molotov would have responded with a more traditional greeting.

However the two monks said little more other than to say a few words in Nihongo and gesture Mara forward. She again smiled, though this time appreciatively. “Perhaps Molotov’s command on the language isn’t much better,” she thought optimistically. “At the very least, I could say that I’ve fallen out of practice.”

The two monks seemed to sense her apprehension and grabbed her by the arms. Mara tried to resist at first, until she realized that they were guiding her. She relaxed. “Thank you,” she said.

The two monks nodded.

With that, Mara walked with them through a plain stone hallway. The shapeshifter was surprised at how unremarkable it was. Even the pitiful shacks near the coast had more decorations on their walls. It was either that austerity was part of these monk’s religions or they had spent all their money on creating a rather large stone exterior. Mara wasn’t sure which, but based on the fact that the monks had shaved heads and wore nothing other than saffron robes and prayer beads, the former was more likely.

Eventually, she reached what seemed to be the office of the chief monk. The others bowed deeply. “Molotov-san has returned,” one of them said. The sentence was spoken in relatively solid tradespeak, though the pronunciation was a bit off.

“Very well,” the senior monk replied. He remained seated on the ground, legs folded over each other. In dress, he looked no different than the other two monks, but he was remarkable by the fact that he possessed particularly kind eyes. Mara couldn’t help but wonder how such a man might even end up being associated with someone like Molotov.

Mara deepened her voice. “Yes, I have returned,” she said. “To continue my studies here…”

The head monk’s eyes seemed sorrowful. “You have found the outside world too cruel?” he asked.

“No…” Mara replied. “But I need the peace that is here.”

The answer seemed acceptable. All three monks nodded. “If that is the case, then stay here for a few days. Your journey must have been arduous…” the head monk decided. “You can not turn this sanctuary into your prison, but you know we have already discussed that.” After a pause, the monk continued with a more merry twinkle in his eye. “And of course, I am a bit surprised to see your Nihongo slip so dramatically…”

Mara bit her lip. She wasn’t sure if that was the monk’s subtle way of saying that she’d been detected. “I… I…” she began to protest.

The head monk merely laughed. “No… I think it’s good. It means you had never intended to make this a permanent stay. Your new discoveries will be more likely to help if you come here with this attitude. Bedlam will not work for us all…”

Though Mara found the last line particularly cryptic, she said nothing. However, in the back of her mind, she made a mental note to check Molotov’s notes for any mention of Bedlam.

[Molotov]

Mara and the monks stayed quiet for a few moments, more time than the shapeshifter would have thought was normal. Even in a boring place like this, there were certainly more entertaining activities than staring at other people dumbfoundedly.

The head monk finally broke the silence. “Would you like an escort to your laboratory?” he asked, as if he was confused as to why Molotov hadn’t left his presence.

Shaking her head, Mara answered no as she believed that was the appropriate answer. Immediately afterwards, she cursed herself, for she had no way of knowing how to get to Molotov’s lab. She had more attuned senses than most, and the smells of laboratory equipment would be quite prevalent in a barren place such as this, but even then, the shapeshifter didn’t want to seem as if she didn’t belong there. Meandering about confusedly would do just that.

“I just was trying to remember if I left any research notes here…” she replied.

The monk smiled. “They are kept in the laboratory,” he explained. “For the rest of your team to work with, misu Jennie and Elrond-san. They are joined now by Hideki-san when he is not working on his herbology.”

Mara’s eyes shot wide open at the mention of Jennie. “It can’t be,” was all she thought. The Jennie that she and Molotov both knew was dead. It seemed almost impossible that there be another. At that thought, Mara felt sick to her stomach. She’d known Molotov to be calloused and unrepentant, be she couldn’t believe that her former general could be that uncaring about the girl who had loved him unconditionally to allow another to have her name.

With that, Mara sighed. “I would like to retire first,” she said politely. She needed to calm down before she went anywhere.

“Very well,” the head monk said. “I will escort you to a guest quarter. Your former lodgings as a student are no longer appropriate. This is not meant to be your home any more.”

Mara nodded. She was too confused about the Jennie remark to wonder why the monks seemed to be emphasizing that this wasn’t her home anymore. Molotov had never been the kind of person who stayed in one place all that long.

Then again, Molotov had never been particularly welcomed anywhere he went.

[Molotov]

Mara wasn’t particularly pleased with her quarters. It was made of similar stone to the rest of the monastery, and there wasn’t any real furniture in the room either. The walls were bare, though there was a makeshift bed made of a thin blanket and a straw matt. Given everything she had seen in the monastery, the sparse conditions weren’t particularly surprising, but even then Mara felt like she was entitled to a little more. Given everything she had been put through, Mara felt like she needed to unwind. Everything had felt like a whirlwind since she’d heard that Molotov had resurfaced. Being a shapeshifter was particularly draining, especially when she’d been forced to pretend to be someone else for this long. The fear of detection alone caused enough stress.

Thus, Mara was grateful for one thing about her quarters. Despite all its weaknesses, the room provided privacy. Now Mara could change back to her normal state. Her muscles all relaxed, and she smiled. Her door wasn’t particularly sturdy, but Mara felt like she wouldn’t be able to function any longer if she retained Molotov’s position. One of the advantages of her poison mutation was that she no longer needed to sleep, so Mara would have the whole night to study. It would be necessary, especially given how very little she knew about this monastery. She didn’t doubt that any explicit references to Molotov’s study would be implicit at best, especially since Molotov had a mixed relationship with his scientific abilities.

She sighed lightly and then poured herself a small cup of water from a brown clay pot in the corner. “This is going to be a long night,” she muttered. “A long, long night…”


These days are quite long here. I don’t care much for them, especially because most of the exercises the monks have given me require fasting from sunrise to sundown. It’s a bloody shame. At the very least though, I suppose I’m getting some of the clarity they have wanted me to get. In addition to working on martial arts with them, Kagome Sensei has encouraged me to resume my work in mutations. I don’t know if I want to, but I almost feel like I can’t say know. These sods seem to have a very subtle way of getting their will. They don’t use force, but when you disagree, they just make you feel sorry for them. It’s quite impressive. If I’d have known how to do this back at the academy, I wouldn’t have had to ever turn in a bloody literature assignment. I’ll talk to Jennie, see what she says. If anyone’s suffered because of my experiments, its her.

The passage caught Mara’s interest for a number of reasons. Not only was it surprising that the departed Jennie had somehow been in communication with Molotov, but that Molotov would suddenly care about her opinion.

“He didn’t when he left her to die,” the shapeshifter thought snidely. “Suddenly in his journal he’s Prince Charming? Who does he expect reading this anyways?”

Mara paused for a moment. She doubted it, but suspicion came naturally to a shapeshifter. This could have been some kind of trap, especially after everything had seemed so convenient. “Why would he have left it here if he didn’t want someone finding it?” she wondered aloud.

However, Mara’s quickening heart soon stopped it frenetic pace. She realized that she was being overly concerned. Molotov had always written journals, they were his way of seeming important.

[Molotov]

Mara wished she had the kind of mail service in Shanleh that was so prominent in Corone. She could only imagine the looks on the faces of her buyers if they found out that she had plans to offer serums that brought back the dead. Greedily, Mara began to flip through the pages, caring little for mentions of Molotov’s daily routines. She had one goal now, and it was no longer revenge. Mara Jade just wanted to get rich. In a way, she felt as if that would be a perfect form in and of itself. For everything she knew about her former general, she knew he would loathe the idea of his hard earned serum being given to nobles. Plus if she were successful, Mara Jade would be the only mutant who had managed to survive.

It was far too delicious. Mara was to succeed in the destiny of the mutants, the deep seeded longing that seemed to be in every last one of her people. It had been awakened by Molotov, and that was perhaps why Mara had so hated him. Her tribe had been contented in Berevar before he had insisted that a better life awaited them once they conquered the world. Molotov had told them that the mutants were better, and as much as she hated him, Mara felt as if that was true. Perhaps that was really why she hated Molotov so much. As her general, he had created a part of her that she couldn’t erase.

With that, Mara rubbed her eyes and yawned. It wasn’t fatigue as much as it was ennui. Molotov’s writings never seemed to be written as a guide to replicating his success, and this journal was even more scattered than the ones that had been written at Jamison Academy. Every time it seemed there was a mention of something of worth, it was cryptic and without detail, but still promising enough to compel Mara to read on.

She sighed, and continued on with Molotov’s story.


I finally understand what had gone wrong earlier, and how my mutations had ended up going so badly earlier. I know the traps and dangers of these serums better than I ever used to, but it’s frustrating that I had to figure this out while creating even more potent serums. I always believed there were elements living in independence of each other, but now I know how it’s all connected. Like this bloody circle, where you pull too far one way then you end up caught. The only options for happiness are inaction and perfect action. Such a bloody fair choice. Inaction gets you swept up into the throng of fools and duffers, while perfect action is far beyond me now. I’m not even bloody sure if it exists. Well I’ve known life hasn’t been fair for a while now, this shouldn’t be any new surprise.

Anyways, what I thought I knew was this;

Lightning- Composure
Fire- Anger
Water- Compassion
Shadow- Spite
Light- Selfishness
Earth- Nurturing
Wind- Flexibility
Time- Control

This isn’t true. There are linked pairs. Mine is Fire and Water, compassion breeds anger and anger calls for compassion. Without one, the other destroys itself. Lightning requires Shadow. Poor Jennie, she was too sure and never vindictive, that was what damaged her. Light and Earth, Wind and Time, they’re all linked together. I think Mara’s shapeshifting and poison are linked too… that’s why she’s stable, she can control them both.

I guess what part of this means is that it wasn’t my fault that Jennie died, she sort of killed herself. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable knowing this. It means so much of my life was a lie. For the first time I regret what happened at Jamison…

Having gotten the information she wanted, Mara was about to flip the page. However, the shapeshifter noticed there were a good number of other regrets listed. She looked through, to see if there would be any mention of her, and all the pains she had suffered. Her face fell immediately when she found there was no mention for her. Angrily, she tore this page out of the book despite its use for her.

“Oh it’s too late for regrets now,” Mara hissed bitterly. She truly wished that she could say that without lying to herself. In her heart of hearts she wanted to forgive Molotov, if only for the hope he had bestilled in her during their days together in Gisela.

[Molotov]

Mara had to put the book down for a while. She had become too emotional. Instead she got up and drank some water, pacing the room like she was a caged animal. She dared not leave for fresh air, especially because she doubted she could be at the top of her pretences when her mind was so occupied. The shapeshifter was finding that she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Did she really even want Molotov dead? Mara didn’t even know any more. She wanted his fortune, she wanted the glory that he’d promised for the mutants and never delivered. Was it that her only true motivation was greed? Mara hoped not, the sense of righteousness that her work had given her engendered her to do more.

Eventually Mara settled down and started reading again. It was easier for her, because the next few pages were mostly full of routine details about Molotov’s daily life. Mara made note of it and found it useful, but these notes didn’t create the same kind of visceral effect that the more emotional ones did. From this, Mara learned a great deal, that elements needed to be balanced against each other, and then their users would not go out of control.

She began to wonder if she was in any danger. No where was their mention of the poison serum that she had consumed. The shapeshifting ability had been a mutation she’d had since birth. Unlike Molotov’s lab rats, Mara had been a mutant from birth. However, she didn’t understand why Molotov was making no mention of the poison serum. He had obviously made the mutagen, it was odd that it wasn’t mentioned earlier.

Soon, a passage caught her eye. Not because it mentioned poisons specifically, but because it revealed that there were more mutations.


I had only scratched the surface of mutations in my earlier research. I’m beginning to learn what a fool I was. Some of the vials I’ve made earlier that I thought were mistakes, were theoretically correct. They were only lethal because the mutants taking them weren’t trained. Though Lightning isn’t like that, what happened to Jennie is similar.

There are three classes now that I know about, the Alpha class, the Omega class and the gateway class. The Alpha class are particularly shallow. They may seem powerful initially, but there is no growth with them. What you start with is what you get. Nothing that interesting or worth talking about. The simple class are perhaps the most interesting. Their number is not infinite, but the eight I knew was probably not the end. These are the ones to give to people, once people master their balance they’re in control. I call them gateway, because I think that only when people balance them should they move on to Omega. That is if there are any poor sods who really even need Omega. It is great power, but too bloody corrupting. There are three, and there only should be three. I believe by combining them within someone, I could bloody create the devil.

I’m listing them here for science, but hope no one is ever stupid enough to develop them besides me. I can’t destroy them, and someday, they will infect someone. I just hope that day is far away. I have a dangerous feeling that I created the sodded apocalypse. Sensei thinks the same.

Bloody hell.

Mara smiled brightly. The new serums seemed quite powerful. Her trip was not in vain.

[Molotov]

The more she thought about it, the less she worried about her poison mutation. It was clearly an Alpha ability. Mara’s abilities to use toxins had not been enhanced during the two years that she had been affected by it. Not to mention, now she knew with certainty that Molotov had not only developed a powerful set of mutagens, but most likely they were somewhere within the monastery. She knew Molotov well enough from his writings to know that he wouldn’t carry the serums with him. The monastery seemed like the safest place. The people around were too stupid to be suspicious, and the monks seemed too trusting.

Mara smiled. By now, she could read Molotov like a book. Earlier, she had entertained the idea that he might also be able to read her. After all, she had served in his army during Gisela. As a soldier in his elite forces she had been answerable only to him. Molotov, for all his flaws, was a particularly astute judge of character.

“Too bad that he uses it so terribly…” Mara thought. “For a man so talented, it’s almost tragic that his greatest talent is for ruin.” The shapeshifter was sincere about that thought, both the backhanded compliment and the insult that came with it. She had once again revalued her goals. There was one last piece of information that she wanted, where Molotov had hidden the serums within the monastery. She didn’t care about learning about him anymore, nor did she really care to know where she could find him. If Mara made known that she had his serums, she knew Molotov would come looking for her.

“That is, if I can’t get him arrested,” Mara thought connivingly. Eventually, she found what she was looking for. It was a note on a piece of loose leaf, something that probably wasn’t intended for the book.


Jennie,

I’m gone. I’ve got other things to take care of now, but I want you to keep the serums safe. They’re in the locker, just right where I left them. Let everyone in the monastery know, but otherwise, you have to keep this secret. It’s too bloody important for this to be passed around.

I know I can trust you. Take my journal down to Masureiki-chan. No one will really look for it in the hands of a child. I want to keep everything here, but not too close to me.

Mara nodded. Had explicit directions been contained in the journal she had found near the coast, then she would have had to have been suspicious. Molotov would have never entrusted an essential manual to mere commoners otherwise. She was a bit curious how the paper had ended up in the book, but Mara didn’t care to analyze it. She had gotten what she wanted, and that was the most important.

[Molotov]

Mara wasted little time once she knew the location of the serums. She moved quickly through the hallways, searching for the laboratory. In her eagerness, she had nearly forgotten that she still didn’t know where the lab was. “Good work,” she chided herself sarcastically. “I’m not in this much of a rush for money, now am I?”

However, there was more than money she was searching for. It was revenge. While Mara hadn’t recognized it immediately, it was revenge that had been rekindled within her when she had heard about Molotov’s return. It is unlikely that he really would have come for her, by now, Molotov would have had greater concerns than a few serums. He had stood up to the Forgotten Ones, and while he may have had to retreat in disgrace, it meant he would have considered a feud with a former soldier of his to be unworthy of his time. Mara knew all this because she knew Molotov. It had seemed that until now, as she moved through the hallway, that she hadn’t known herself.

A monk passed by. Mara quickly pulled her body against the wall and slowed her breathing. She didn’t know how great the monk’s senses were, but she knew she wouldn’t be noticed. The shapeshifter had changed her skin so that she blended in perfectly with the wall. In the darkness, there was no way she might be detected other than the increasingly quickening pace of her heart. She held her breath, closed her eyes, tried to ignore the sweat drops forming on her forehead.

Soon the danger passed, and Mara slipped off in the direction opposite to where the monk was headed. “He smells like rubber and formaldehyde,” Mara noticed. “There aren’t going to be many that look like that.”

It took her less than fifteen minutes to reach the lab. When Mara reached it, she smiled. It was classic Molotov. Glass beakers and pipes scattered everywhere, colorful liquids lying in open containers that were probably unsafe. And, in the center of the lab, there was a safe.

“How predictable can you be,” Mara thought as she ambled greedily over towards it. Her shapeshifting made it particularly easy for her to undo the lock. It took a bit longer than usual, because her hands were trembling with so much anxiety, but she soon found three clear bottles of fluid in them.

Mara smiled wickedly. They were the Omega class serums. She grabbed the first one eagerly. “Two to sell, one for me,” she decided. “I can’t risk anyone else growing more powerful.”

For a moment she paused. If her poison mutation was Alpha class, then she didn’t have the proper gateway for these serums. However, she was too greedy to delay any gratification. Immediately, Mara began to rationalize it. “Molotov has always been too careful since Jennie died… this is probably fine if I drink it. The only thing he really had to fear was his stupid arrogance. I’m too smart to worry about this.”

She brought the beaker to her lips and began to imbibe. As it ran down her throat and into her stomach, Mara felt as if lights were beginning to glow all around her.

[Molotov]

It was only after a few minutes that Mara realized that the solution was not as fast acting as her initial impression. The lights glowing all around her were not signs that she’d been transformed, but that she’d been detected. Mara sighed and raised her hands above her head. However, she wasn’t beaten. It wasn’t a sigh of despair that she sighed, but one of ennui. It would be entirely too simple for her to breathe out a lungful of poison and kill all the people who had detected her.

Mara took a deep breath in. “I suppose you caught me,” she said mockingly.

“We have,” came the reply. Mara identified the voice as that of Jennie’s.

“Alright, Jennie get out of here. I don’t want to kill you,” Mara demanded.

Jennie’s voice didn’t waver. “You won’t,” she replied evenly.

Mara cringed. However, if it was going to take killing Jennie to escape, Mara was willing to do it. It still left her better than Molotov. “At least I never neglected her,” she thought. “And I didn’t pretend to love her either…” Mara inhaled one more time, to get the air into her lungs that she would ferment into poison. It flowed down into her lungs, dwelled the requisite amount of time, and then was expelled out through her mouth. However, the air Mara exhaled was nothing but air.

“You just drank a mutation blocker,” Jennie said. “Molotov developed it. Works only on Alpha class, but that’s enough for you.”

Before Mara could muster any kind of a response, she found herself put into ethereal chains by a couple of monks and dragged into a special prison that seemed to have been constructed just for her. The walls were airtight, made of an enchanted form of glass that was likely stronger than prevalida. Neither shapeshifting nor poison would allow an escape.

Now Mara knew the truth. The entire journal was a ruse, an elaborate trap laid out by Molotov to get her. Many martial scholars talked about knowing an enemy better than one’s self, but Mara now realized the fatal flaw in that logic. She had allowed Molotov to know her better than she knew herself. However much she knew Molotov was immaterial.

Though she tried to deny it to herself, Mara had been outwitted. Now, she was going to be at Molotov’s mercy for a long time.

(continued in Minnows (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=2295))

(Spoils request= The five mutagens Mara stole are now property of Molotov)

[Dissinger]

Overall:

Alright, it’s been awhile since I've read anything solely yours, and I have to say as per usual you certainly know how to write. Your writing was solid and flowed well, giving me a rather light and easy read for the BART ride home from San Fransisco. With all this comes the fact that I'm going to nitpick because you are beyond the general "use word" and "read it through to make sure" comments.

Onto the judging!

Introduction: 6 I felt the introduction didn't hook me. While it was intriguing what hurt you here was there was a bit of distortion on it. It felt wrong in some ways almost as if it was hurried. Not hurried in sense of pacing but more in the way it was written. It gave me a lot to think about but not enough time to properly digest before I was thrown into the plot. The flow while fluid seemed to be a bit rushed and forced.

Setting: 7 Setting served a soft backdrop. While it mattered sometimes, I felt it almost could have been done anywhere. Monks aren't exclusive to Shanaleh as the Citadel can attest. Even the Theater of War can prove this fact. The thing is using the nihongo gave me a feel for the setting. Little things like cultural differences and use of actual culture helped, but I couldn't feel like this is where it belonged.

Strategy: 8 This is a category that I felt you did rather well in. Your use of the journal as bait for the trap was well executed. The risky and rather forward strategy of having Mara impersonate Molotov was also a step in the right direction. I felt that strategy tied in well to character as it should, and because of that high marks.

Writing Style: 10 I have little to report other than you have the touch still. The ease of reading combined with the good use of literary device was wonderful. Most people are struggling to find that sweet spot between verbosity and brevity, you've hit it.

Rising Action: 7 Here is where I felt you had a bit of a rush. This kind of tied in with introduction as I felt things went too fast. Part of the problem was I felt this was more of a stepping stone to something more important. You put Mara into a position to set up Minnows, which is fine; I just felt you took a few short cuts to get there.

Dialogue: 7 Dialogue was solid, and I felt that all you need to improve was things like Jennie's retorts. It was almost mechanical, giving the answers that were needed, before moving on. Then again I also felt Jennie was one of those things that were thrown in at the end, and while it made sense, it had no development.

Character: 9 Everyone felt real but like I said I didn't get to know Jennie that well. Perhaps if I had been following this from the beginning things would make more sense. I only skimmed the previous ones when they were up on the old site. Because of that I never got a deep glimpse into the story behind here. Perhaps that hurt here perhaps not, but I got the feeling that the presentation of character was solid.

Climax: 7 It was hurried. It was over and right to conclusion before I could even realize we had reached it. Because of this I felt while both were well wrapped up and done, they were hurried and I didn't get the chance to realize yes, this is going on, and this is where it goes now.

Conclusion: 7 So because of the rushed Climax your conclusion while solid also hurt. I got no definition between the two. She drank the serum, then she was caught, and trying to use her mutation. Then Jennie said she's being blocked, and the thread ended with a prison cell.

It moved so quick I had to go back and read the progression again. I have a definite climax, which is why that score was high, and it flowed into the conclusion, but it just hit this abrupt stop. A good example of that is when they're on the Boat in the old version of Willie Wonka in the Chocolate Factory. He shouts stop, and they're stopped at a port in his factory, it’s all over and you got confused more than anything by it.

Wildcard: 8 I liked it don't get me wrong. However as I pointed out, I got nitpicky as you're beyond generalized comments and strategies. This is how I felt you needed to improve.

And the verdict is…..

78!

Spoils:

Molotov gets 3505 EXP and the vials.

Any EXP rewards given are based off of the new equation. Any questions regarding what was said can be addressed to me via PM or AIM SethDahlios.

[Zieg dil' Tulfried]

EXP added! Molotov levels up!