Dirty Money (solo)

((This tale takes place immediately after the events in Thursday's profile, and quests that sadly are no longer on the forum. Not meant for children or those who may find love between two women disturbing. Oh yeah,violence too.))

“You don’t have to carry it all the time.” Daisy told her, nudging her in the ribs with a playful elbow. Thursday knew she didn’t, but she wanted to. For her, the pack draped over her shoulder was hardly noticeable, it’s weight nothing more than an afterthought to someone like her, but there was more to it than that. In the dirty brown thing were two objects of immense value to one who knew of them. The Obsidian Soul, an artificial means of reviving and sustaining those who are deceased, and the journal of a man known only as Dante, or to Thursday, Father. In this journal were things that she did not want Daisy to see or know ever. Like how she died and who was responsible.

Besides, things were perfect the way they were. Much like their island home, the two of them abandoned the refugees of Effaria quickly. They sped from Serenti and headed toward Radasanth, determined to make the journey across land. Thursday made the decision for them, as on their week-long trip toward Corone, she discovered that the sea was not her place, and spent most of her time at the rails, emptying her stomach of its contents on a daily basis. Even she, a being created to deal death and pain, was not perfect. She knew it now more than ever, as walking at her side, was a living, breathing weakness waiting to be exploited. Thursday knew better. She was trained and taught to know that emotional attachment to anything more than a sword or a horse was dangerous. Not just to her, but to the other party as well, and frankly, she didn’t care.

“I like carrying it. It makes me feel like I’m in control of you.” Thursday said with a grin. They both chuckled, knowing full well that nobody could control a woman as wildly spirited as Daisy. Thursday certainly was close though. She discovered this on their boat when, while having advances made upon her by those few soldiers that had survived the battle and sailed with them, Daisy snapped, breaking several limbs and severely injuring a few others with her bare hands. There was no King on that boat, and no law. As far as that specific ship went, Thursday was the ruler, and she decreed that Daisy could do whatever the hell she wanted as long as she didn’t get hurt. So she did, and others were hurt instead.

“Do you think they’ll be okay? The, uh, escapers I mean.”

“Refugees, Daisy. We call them refugees.” Thursday corrected, looking at her with a sly wink. She felt weird doing it, as if somehow it was a mocking gesture to wink at a woman with one eyelid. “And I really don’t care. We’re okay, right?”

Daisy didn’t say anything in reply. While she could match Thursday as far as it came in bloodlust, her empathy and heart were far more accepting and developed. Daisy was the first person Thursday met who she did feel merely sexual inclinations towards. With her brown haired companion, Thursday felt genuinely happy. It was a shock, of course, when she had spent most of her life in a fog of hatred that extended toward almost all living beings. A fog that, for the most part, had not exactly cleared away save for a small spot in which Daisy stood alone.

“Do you think that your brother is still coming for you?” Daisy asked, coughing as a horse sped past them on the path, kicking dust into the air in its wake. It really was an idyllic scene. A dirt road that, on occasion, would branch away, carving through the fields like a child’s drawing toward a farm or other unknown buildings. The sun was halfway down, making the world’s oranges and browns stand out more than ever. Together, Daisy and Thursday walked along toward the ever growing sight of trees. Appearing almost endless like the forests of Effaria, they were taller and bushier than those on their home island. Thursday had a feeling that a lot of things on Corone would be different.

“He probably is. So what? If I’m gonna be killed, I may as well be killed by a guy that well dressed.” she said, eliciting a nervous, somewhat forced laugh from her partner. Thursday stopped walking and stared steadily at her. “Hey, lighten up, will you? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Gods and Demons alike couldn’t take me away from the sight of your beautiful blue eye, okay?”

Daisy smiled a bashful smile, her cheeks turning a light hue of red. It reminded Thursday that she really was nothing more than a young woman. Though living her third life, she was hardly even in her twenties. Not only this, but her dependency, while endearing, was also worrying at the same time. If, for some reason she had to go, Daisy would be in a truly terrible state indeed. Thursday quelled the thought and kissed her on the lips, lingering there for a few moments. She let her smaller nose brush against Daisy’s somewhat larger one as she stepped back, grinning. Looking away was all Thursday could do to suppress the giddy chuckle that rose in her throat. It’d been happening a lot and was beginning to really bother her.

“Come on. This path has got to lead to a town. We’ll stop there, get a room, get some food, get naked and well, I am sure you can-”

“Um, about that…” Daisy interrupted, looking shyly at the ground. Thursday grimaced.

“It’s not that time, is it?” Thursday asked, not envying human females for their monthly ritual. Daisy scoffed and smiled, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe she’d actually been asked what she had.

“No! Jeez! I haven’t gotten that since my um… first death.” she said, the both of them going silent suddenly. It was not a subject that either of them wanted to address.

“Well then what’s the problem?” Thursday asked, once again breaking the ice.

“We have no money.” Daisy replied simply, holding a limp looking pouch of leather in her hands.

“I guess we’ll need to find some then, won’t we?” Thursday hinted mischievously, as though she had a plan. She didn’t. She’d want to be sitting down somewhere and relaxed before trying to devise a plan. Thus, they continued onward, passing into the treeline without fuss. Filtered by the leaves, the entire clearing the path encompassed seemed to hold a green glow. Only certain beams of pure, unhindered orange managed to pass through small breaks in the foliage, highlighting them as they walked past

“It’s really beautiful here. This forest seems so… nice.”

“You mean you like these trees more than the ones that tried to kill us back home?” Thursday asked sarcastically. Daisy punched her on the arm in reply.

Down the path they traveled, Thursday noticing that thin grooves lined it, signifying that they were not somewhere under-traveled or obscure, but on their way somewhere familiar to most people from the larger cities nearby. Perhaps it was a trade route or a logging town or even merely a resting point for weary travelers. They’d find out soon enough.

“Wow! Look at that house!” Daisy exclaimed, a sudden break in the trees revealing a branching path that ended at a massive, beautiful forest home. It was several floors high and had a few somewhat casually dressed men dwelling outside of it, smoke rising in plumes from one’s upturned head.

“Hey!” Thursday yelled, trying to get their attention. It worked, and a man stood up from the steps of the house’s front door, walking slowly toward them. The closer he grew, the more Thursday made out that he seemed to be wearing a robe of some-kind, tied at the waist loosely. Unlike that which a King would wear, it was gray and was in fact his entire outfit. It was feminine, and yet somehow not. He stopped around five feet from the women, his half-open eyes regarding them with a dazed curiosity.

“Hello. Is there a problem here?”

“No problem. I was just wondering if you could tell us what the next town is called and how far it is from here.” Thursday replied, shrugging simply. The man took a deep puff from a long, simple pipe he held in his left hand and did not utter a word, letting the smoke sit inside of him for a moment before finally exhaling it out with a sigh.

“Haven. Not far at all. Follow the path. You’ll see houses, and that means you’re close. Cross the bridge, walk, and you’ll be there. Pass through, cross another bridge, and you’ve left the town. Simple, yes?”

Thursday wasn’t sure if he was merely telling her how to leave, or threatening her somehow. His tone was hard to discern and his face was stone cold, holding no emotion besides, the faint glaze over his eyes.

“Sorry to bother you!” Daisy interjected, waving a hand at him simply. The man nodded, and started shuffling back toward the house. Thursday looked at Daisy and rolled her eyes. It was all she needed to do for her to get her impression across. Daisy snickered and they continued on. Much as he said, they passed a few smaller houses, some of which seemed abandoned or currently empty, others bearing curious child eyes watching them from the window, or in one instance, an old man outside enjoying the crisp air of a cool evening settling in. Thursday could see why it was called Haven.

“This place is really nice.” Daisy said softly, as if there was something else in her words Thursday needed to dig to find. She didn’t try. It wasn’t long until the sound of rushing water could be heard, and a wide bridge, appearing almost brand-new in its condition, was before them. It curved over a small stream that parted the forest gently. Allowing life-giving water to flow freely for the animals and plants. Fish of brilliant red and orange hues could be seen fighting over food and dashing back and forth playfully in the water, and Daisy quickly went down the side of the bridge, kneeling at the edge to dip her fingers in the clear stream.

“It’s so cold.” she said, looking back at Thursday, who had stayed near the bridge, leaning upon the handrail with her arms folded beneath her cloak. “Come over here with me, T.”

“No way. I’ll be too tempted to push you in. Then you’ll be cold.” Thursday replied, chuckling to herself. Daisy sighed and stood up, walking past Thursday to get onto the bridge first.

“What do you think of this place?” Daisy asked her, staring at the water from the bridge as Thursday came up from the rear. Her eyes were fixed on Daisy’s. The leather pants Gildareon had created for may as well have painted on, and Thursday liked it a lot.

“Considering we haven’t even reached the town, I can’t really say.” she said, and Daisy stared back at her, her single eye narrowed sharply. “Okay, it’s nice.”

Thursday bridged the distance between them and ruffled Daisy’s shaggy hair like one would have a dog.

“It is nice, okay? I just…” her sentence died off as her gray eyes spotted two men at the other end of the bridge, staring at them with hardened expressions on their bearded faces. “You need something, fellas?”

Daisy followed Thursday’s gaze and gasped as the two men below both drew old, blood encrusted swords.

“Give us your gold and you’ll be free to pass.” the man on the right said, twirling his sword around in a showy display. Thursday uttered a low growl and put her hand to Daisy’s stomach, pushing her gently behind her.

“Apparently some things are the same no matter where you go.” Thursday hissed, her mere tone making Daisy angry as well.

“Give us your gold!” The left brigand exclaimed, spittle flying from his mouth.

“Looks like you chose a bad day to come out and play.” Thursday spoke in reply. “Not only do we not have any money, but now I have to murder the both of you.”

She uttered the magical words. The thief on the left charged forward, his sword raised high over his head. Thursday’s right hand transformed into its black claw, and she thrust her cloak over her shoulders to reveal her arms. The man swiftly approached and Thursday dashed at him, slashing across his chest, stomach, and throat quicker than he was able to assimilate the fact that she had even attacked. Bloody mist shot from each slash as she made them, and the man collapsed to the bridge, dead before his head even thumped onto the wood.

“Do you still want my gold now!? Huh!?” she screamed at the remaining bandit. She knelt down and grabbed the dead man’s ankle, dragging the corpse behind her as she started toward his remaining comrade.

“Well?! Come get it! Come take my gold!”

The man did. Thursday was impressed at his bravery, foolish as it was. When he got near, she swung the corpse upward like it was a weapon itself. Skull struck skull and the other man collapsed like a ragdoll, the side of his head smashed inward. His limbs twitched violently and Thursday’s upper lip curled.

“Let’s put these bastards in the woods. I’m sure there’s a hungry wolf out there.”

Daisy sighed and approached the twitching man with a look of utter disgust on her face. Wild though she may have been, she was no expert in corpses or death. Her lone eye met Thursday’s and touched by her wariness, Thursday dropped the dead man’s leg.

“Fine. I’ll take the twitcher.” she said. “The things I do for you. Jeez.”

She didn’t know why, but she had the feeling that the two lives she’d taken would eventually mean more than most easily dealt deaths. She had no idea how right her feeling was.

Thursday stared at the two still bodies from the treeline. If someone knew where to find them, they would, but a typical passerby would not, and that was all that mattered. Halfway through moving the bodies, Daisy left the scene and returned to the water’s edge, where she sat upon an outcropping rock with her chin nestled in her hands. Thursday really didn’t mind. She finished the job herself. The wolves would do the rest.

“Daisy.” she said, walking slowly toward the stream. “Is something wrong? Why are you so quiet?”

She approached slowly, setting the pack down at the top of the incline and stepping down carefully. The stood at the rear of the rock that Daisy sat on and stared down at her, waiting for an answer that seemed like it’d never come.

“Daisy… what did I do?”

“I don’t want to see any more killing.” she said simply, tossing a pebble to the stream listlessly. The fish inside swarmed and fought over it. The winner, a black fish, got the honor of realizing it wasn’t even food. “I just… I keep feeling like…”

Thursday put a hand upon Thursday’s frizzy hair and stroked it slowly.

“What is it?”

“I want to go straight… I want to settle down here and live- I… I want to have peace.” she said softly, sounding embarrassed. “We could build our own little house like the ones around here and just… relax or… I don’t know, just be happy.”

Sighing, Thursday withdrew her hand and let it settle once again beneath her cloak. She stared at the top of Daisy’s head, losing herself in the brown curls and in her thoughts.

“Okay,” she said “Let’s do it.”

Daisy turned and craned her neck. Her left and only eye seemed redder and glassy. She’d been crying.

“Are you serious? You’d do a normal job? No killing?” Daisy asked, hope in her voice. Thursday sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair. She nodded, and Daisy rose to hug her. As she did, Thursday realized why she’d agreed to it. The reason was noble enough. If love could cause war and death and art, it certainly could cause retirement. How hard could it be? she asked herself. She really had no idea.

The two of them continued into the town, which, outside of a small hub of buildings was rather scattered. The town center, it seemed, was at the farthest end, trees at its rear. A blacksmith was outside pounding away at an anvil and a few street merchants peddled fruits or other non-edible wares. The inn, inviting and tall, had wide, open doors. Haven had the smell of cooking food and fireplaces in action, giving it a very home-like atmosphere. While this hub of business and activity was somewhat busy, the houses seemed scattered. There was no semblance of order in the way they were built or put together. Each one seemed built by its owner, so the styles and quality were different. Some yards seemed to run into others while some were so far from their neighbors it seemed that the distance was on purpose. It most likely was.

No doubt, there were houses in the woods and further away from their somewhat raised view, as the town was in a valley of sorts, stretching for what seemed like miles. The dwellings grew further and further apart the farther from the man hub they were. This made sense, as most of them probably grew and tended to their own meats and vegetables. But most interesting of all, was that Haven truly seemed like its own place. In the end, no matter how far one’s house was, trees surrounded them on all sides.

“It’s so beautiful… I think I’m in love with this place.” Daisy said in subtle awe as she took the lead. Thursday followed up the rear, half-agreeing with her statement. Her love seemed rather quick to fall for a place that would see them attacked by robbers at the bridge to town. Unlike Daisy, Thursday had the feeling that Haven was more than just its namesake. And if it was, what type of people would seek solace in a town so secluded from the rest of the world? She was surprised that Daisy did not feel the similarities between Haven and her hometown of Tikar, which was by all rights another type of haven. A haven for those who sought to overthrow their cruel king, and thanks to Thursday and her brother, an eventual burial ground for every last one of them.

“Let’s go to the inn. There’s bound to be someone looking for workers around.” Thursday advised, unable to believe that she did, in fact, utter such words. Love truly was insanity. But it was a good kind of insanity. The kind she could live with.

“You’re so smart.” Daisy said, hooking her right arm under Thursday’s left. Briefly, she smiled, but she slid her arm free, Daisy looking at her as if offended.

“We don’t know how people may feel about that sort of thing here. For all we know they could try and hang us.” Thursday warned. Daisy shrugged, as if she understood but wasn’t happy about it. “And yes, I am smart.”

They both chuckled. As they neared the inn, an older man walked out and across the road. Upon entering, they found the inn’s bottom floor empty. While there was a desk, there was no owner. Not even any patrons about either.

“You know… I could go back there and rob this place blind. We could skip town and keep on going without a problem.” Thursday said, grinning mischievously. Somewhere inside her she hoped that Daisy would still not care about thievery and go for it, but she had her doubts.

“Thursday!” she exclaimed in a whisper. “No! What if the owner comes back!?”

“Well, I’d have to- ugh… right.” Thursday bitterly replied, rolling her eyes. “Fine, let’s go to the restaurant.”

She began to realize how hard going ‘straight’ would be. Killing was not only her method of paying for the necessities in life, but it was a part of her. Since her conception, killing was to be ingrained on her mind. It was. And it was going to be so very hard to stop.

As they crossed the road, a man on a horse was trotting slowly down the way with a torch, lighting lamps that conveniently were built alongside every road. No doubt to help those living farther away from the hub who would have had trouble finding it in the night, especially a night that would be bringing in clouds like those that shimmered pink above them. As they neared the restaurant, the same older man that had entered before walked back out with a plate of steaming food. Meat and potatoes Thursday was jealous.

They entered to the sounds of normal conversation, a few curious eyes turning to the door, but most too interested in their own meals or company to care. There was a woman behind a bar pouring a drink to a man who was making her laugh. Her mouth was enormous, some massive, toothy thing capable of swallowing birds whole if she so desired. She was tall and skinny and had a long bird-beak nose that looked almost like it was going to be eaten every time she opened her mouth.

“Well? Go on.” Thursday said, prodding Daisy forward. They both took a seat at the bar and Thursday snapped her fingers to get some attention. The woman gave her current conversation a dismissing wave and walked toward them.

“Hi there, ladies! Nice to see some new faces!” she said, sounding far too upbeat to be human. “Oh my, you poor darlin’… what happened to your eye?”

Daisy looked at Thursday and suddenly put her hand to her face, covering the magical eye she’d forgotten she had no eye patch for any longer.

“I-it’s glass… I lost it when I was young.” she lied, feeling too self conscious to remove the hand.

“Poor dear. Have a drink on the house, hun.” she said, pouring her a small glass of something clear and bronze hued. Daisy shrugged, downed it, and turned red-faced for a moment as the fire raged in her throat.

“We were wondering if you had any jobs.” Thursday asked blatantly. The woman smiled and nodded her head.

“Wouldn’t ya know it? Our waitresses just left town, actually. As you can tell, I could certainly use the help” the woman replied, waving at the room full of customers. “But uh, I don’t do the hirin’ round here. My husband does. He should be back at the inn. Come on back and tell me what he says!”

“Yeah, we’ll do that.”

Thursday and Daisy got up and left just as quickly as they’d came, heading back across the way to the inn, where a few people with heavy sacks entered for the evening. Travellers just like them, no doubt. Inside, the old man handed the two a key each, took some gold, and sat down at his desk again to finish his meal. He looked up at them and threw the knife back onto the steak, the blade jutting up from the hunk of meat as though it were a dart.

“At this rate I’ll never finish my God damned meal!” he exclaimed angrily. “Rooms are ten gold a night.”

“We don’t want a room you old bastard. We’re looking for jobs.” Thursday stated simply. The old man stared at her incredulously, and Daisy shook her head, thinking that they’d just lost their chance. The man burst into laughter and stood up suddenly, outstretching his hand.

“You’re quite a gal! But uh, I’m not really able to dispense gold like I used to.” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “You look like a couple-a travelers… I wouldn’t be able to finance no trip. No way.”

“Well… what can you offer?” Daisy asked, trying to keep her head turned away so he couldn’t see the Black Eye.

“Well…” the old man started, going quiet as he thought. “You could stay here and eat for free instead of getting gold as payment, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good.” Thursday said, nudging Daisy with her elbow. The old man looked at Thursday and raised a big, bushy gray eyebrow.

“Not you, honey. I dunno if you’ve noticed, but you’re not exactly the most normal lookin’ of women.” he said, grinning. “Nothin’ personal. Just want our customers to be in a calming situation. Someone like yourself, well…”

Thursday grinned back.

“No offense taken. I know.” Thursday said, putting her hand on Daisy’s back and shoving her forward. “Introduce yourself to your new boss.”

“Uh, hi. I’m Daisy.” she said, finally offering him a full view of her face.

“How adorable. I hope you can handle stress better than the pretty little flower you’re named after.” he said. “By the way, I’m Karl, I’m your boss now. Oh, put this on.”

Karl reached under the desk and pulled out something black and stringy looking. He handed it to Daisy and she gave an appreciative smile. It was a new eye-patch.

“Well it certainly was nice meeting you two. Here’s the key to your room. Eight.” he said, handing Thursday a key with a small wooden hunk attached to it. The number eight was burnt into it. “Go ahead and put your stuff upstairs. Daisy, go see Joyce and get to work.”

Like a trained soldier, Daisy nodded at him and started toward the door, giving a quick, longing look back at Thursday before starting across the road.

“You don’t waste time do you, old man?” Thursday asked, smiling bitterly at him. It was good that they had living arrangements, she simply didn’t like how he bossed Daisy around. But that was a job, wasn’t it? Being bossed around for money? If it was, Thursday didn’t want one.

“You think I’m strict with her?” Karl asked, chuckling faintly. “You should see how I treat my kids.”

Thursday grunted to him as she headed toward the stairs, disappearing from the sight of the old man in but a moment. The inn had a straight, long hall that ended with another set of stairs, no doubt going to the second floor of rooms. For a town so secluded, he certainly had a lot of room for guests. Then again, many people probably passed through. Many, perhaps taken in by the homey atmosphere and pleasant surroundings, decide to stay instead of moving on. Either that, or Karl was merely overestimating the amount of customers he’d receive.

She found the room easily and unlocked it, ditching the pack onto the bed without hestitation. It was small, but it had a nice view of the treeline and the small yard behind the inn where a dog roamed, sniffing the ground curiously. The sun had disappeared behind the forest and the moon and stars were obscured by clouds, but Thursday still saw as though the sun were high above. One would not make much of an assassin unless able to function well in the dark.

“This is a nice place, isn’t it?” a fairly high pitched male voice said from behind her. Thursday spun and was faced with a familiar and yet unpleasant guest. Ultima, or Tim, as he liked to be called, dressed in his powder blue suit and standing as straight as an arrow. The inky, black pools that were his eyes surveyed the room and he smiled. “Where’s the flower?”

“You’re not going to kill me without letting me say goodbye to her, are you?” Thursday asked, wondering why she felt so scared. She knew exactly why. Because Tim was the only person she was certain could kill her. Because Tim was made to kill her, and sometime soon, he was going to.

“I’m offended that you find our conversations so easily forgettable, sister! I should stab you in your eyes!” Tim exclaimed, his voice somehow serious and playful all at once. He sighed and smiled and closed his eyes. “No. I told you I would kill you in Radasanth. This, if I recall correctly, is Haven, and not even a quarter of the size of Radasanth. However, if you want me to kill you now…”

“No.” Thursday blurted, startled at how her reply sounded more like a plea. “Is there something you wanted?”

Tim made a little grunting sound as though he were trying to think.

“I guess I just wanted to see you. You know you’re my only sibling left alive. I wasn’t exactly attached to our brothers but… you’re special. I can feel that. Do you think I’m special?”

“Sure, Tim. You’re special,” Thursday replied, sitting on the bed with a sigh. She felt like crying suddenly, her mind playing out what would happen if Daisy returned to the inn to find her dead. It was a painful thought. A scary thought. And it shouldn’t have been. Not for her.

“I know I am. Father created me that way.” Ultima said, glancing at the window expressionlessly. “Anyway. I should leave before I decide I want to rip your arms off.”

Tim started toward the door and Thursday stood up.

“Would you like another hug… uh, brother?” she asked, wondering if by being nice to the strange predator that he’d go against Father’s will. Tim stopped and turned around, grinning.

“Yes. I think so.”

And so they hugged, and Ultima left, Thursday having the feeling that she’d most certainly see him again, and most likely sooner than later. Utterly disturbed by the situation, Thursday decided she needed to see Daisy and get the free meals they were now entitled to. While the deal was pretty nice, it was only useful if one planned on staying in Haven forever, and though she told Daisy she was, she wasn’t. She needed to find Dante. She needed to settle things with her brother and see the capitol city of the most heavily populated island on Althanas. With Daisy she would settle down, that much was certain. She would even be willing to come back to Haven, but she was not staying there for good until she’d done what she needed to.

Downstairs, Thursday stopped at the front desk, Karl having waved her over before she made it to the door.

“You seemed a bit angry with me earlier.” he said, stating the obvious. “Daisy is in good hands. She won’t be worked too hard. The people here are pretty agreeable most of the time.”

Thursday gave him an appreciative nod and started toward the door in silence. He started chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Thursday asked, turning around to regard him once again. Karl shook his head and smiled at her. He reminded her of a vulture, from the nose that he and his wife seemed to share to his gleaming, bare head.

“Oh… it’s not funny, it’s rather delightful. Enough to make this old bastard giggle.” Karl said, still smiling. “I haven’t seen that kind of love in a woman’s eyes or eye since I met Joyce, and I’ve been around, my dear, I have been around. Hold onto her and never let her go. I did.”

Thursday stared at the man, wondering just how long it was that he and Joyce had come into one another’s company. She approached the desk with slow, deliberate steps, her brow furrowed in curiosity.

“You don’t care that we’re both women?” she asked, wondering if perhaps she overestimated the persecution people like her received.

“You are new, aren’t you? Some zealot types may think what you have is wrong, but any deity I’d worship wouldn’t give a damn. Love just is.” he said, his smile fading into something nostalgic. “You know, Joyce was once a prostitute and I, a nobleman’s son and a Knight. Two women, two men, three people for all I care, I’m just glad to see it still exists in these, what some say are our darkest days.”

Thursday was speechless. Haven was, no doubt, a refuge for their type. Forbidden love, exiled upstarts and adulterous spouses, all were welcome and all were accepted. She was beginning to like the place.

“I’ve kept you long enough. Go, go to her.” Karl said, pulling a book out from underneath his desk. He started staring down his bird-beak nose at the words and Thursday left with a lopsided grin. Karl wasn’t so bad after all.

In the restaurant, Daisy was already hard at it, making runs from the kitchen to the sitting area without pause. Orders were given to Joyce, who would occasionally step out from behind the bar when Daisy was already occupied. From all appearances, the evening crowd, most of which was gathered at the bar, was more than two women and a cook could handle on their own. Karl was a fool to not hire Thursday, but in a way he really wasn’t. She had no experience in a restaurant, no experience cooking, and people skills that one would expect an assassin and one of bitter intelligence to have when surrounded by dopes and drunks. Which is to say none at all.

When she entered, Daisy didn’t have the chance to notice her. She took a seat at an unoccupied table to the front corner of the building, one that gave a somewhat blurred view of the outside through one of the two windows on the front wall. Thursday leaned back in the chair, letting the backrest touch the wall to brace her from falling. She kicked her feet up onto the table and waited to be noticed. It took ten minutes before she realized she wouldn’t be. Not with the amount of people in that night.

“Hey! Servant wench!” she exclaimed, getting more attention than she desired from the patrons. They stared at her with looks of disgust, as if they were embarrassed for her. “It was a fucking joke! You damned hi-”

“Thursday! Hey!” Daisy exclaimed, setting down a plate of food at a table not far from her own. She scurried over and gave a pleasant nod that Thursday somehow felt was already a part of her order-taking experience.

“How do you like it so far?” Thursday asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s okay… I guess. Some people have tossed an extra gold piece my way. I’m really hungry though. It’s killing me to watch these people eat when I haven’t.” Daisy said, sounding tired. Thursday grinned.

“Two steaks.” she said, tapping her index finger on the table. “One’s for you.”

“I can’t stop to eat! I’m bus-”

“Don’t worry about it. Just get it done.” Thursday interrupted, her grin turning into a smile. “Hey, turn around for a second.”

Daisy looked at her strangely and turned around, trying to look at her own back as if expecting something to be there.

“What? What is it?” she kept asking, unable to see what Thursday was looking for. Thursday had. She raised her arm and slapped Daisy firmly on the butt, sending her scampering off toward the bar with a face as red as the meat she’d just dropped off.

Thursday relaxed once again, watching Daisy give her order to Joyce, who then yelled it through a door into the kitchen. Then she was at it again, retrieving dishes and smiling and nodding and taking payments. Thursday was almost entranced by her movements. Darting across the room, table to table like some sort of ant. It was impressive how diligent she was when it came down to it. Thursday shook her head, thinking of Karl’s words and smiling.

“I’m in love.” she told herself almost in shame, burying her face in her hands to shield her reddening cheeks from view. When she removed them, her table was occupied. Directly across from her was the very same older man that had instructed her on their way into town. He was still dressed in his unusual casual wear and his blue eyes were sharp and predatory, a stark contrast from the dull glaze he wore in them earlier. Two men flanked him, dressed in crimson versions of his same outfit. The man on the right was in desperate need of a shave, as his face was a mountain of hair from eyebrow to beard. The man on the left however was rather handsome, almost pretty in a way. He had green eyes that surveyed the restaurant with caution. No doubt they were the man’s bodyguards.

“This table is occupied.” Thursday said, taking her feet off of the wood and leaning her chair back down. “I suggest you find somewhere else to sit.”

“Or what?” the hairy man said. His eyes, a dark brown like his scruffy facial hair, narrowed at her. Thursday grinned faintly and leaned onto the table, ready to tell him just what she would do, and ready to demonstrate if he was still curious. Looking past the man however, she saw Daisy approaching with two platters of meat in her hands. She set them down on the table in front of Thursday and looked warily at the three men that had joined her. Thursday merely picked up the knife and fork.

“Do you know these guys?” she asked as Thursday began to cut both of the steaks into small squares.

“No. But I’m sure they’ll introduce themselves soon.” she replied, stabbing the fork into one of the meat cubes and holding it up. “Open.”

Daisy snatched it off the utensil with her mouth and smiled.

“Just come back here when you want more.” Thursday advised, smiling back. She felt uncomfortable expressing affection in front of the strange men that had sat down, but she wasn’t going to let them stop her. Daisy nodded and started to walk off. The pretty man on the left slapped her on the rear as she did, and she spun, staring at them with disgust on her face. Thursday’s upper lip curled as a rage she’d never quite felt before boiled up inside of her. She reached across the table like a flash of white, snatching the man’s arm from the air before he was able to retract it. She slammed his hand palm-first into the wood only moments before driving her steak knife deep into it, piercing both his flesh and the wood to leave the eating- utensil-turned-weapon protruding from the underside of the table. He gave a sort of half-whimper, and more attention turned their way, a few of the customers rising from their seats.

“Why don’t you bastards get outta here with your trouble causin!?” exclaimed an older man, his anger expressed quite fully on his face. Joyce pounded her fist upon the bar.

“Get out! How many times have I told you dirty little rats to stay out of my place?!” she screamed, the bearded man rising and slowly exiting without a word. The older man had remained silent the entire time, his gaze focused solely on Thursday.

“Would you please remove that knife?” he asked her, Thursday staring at him in shock. “It seems to cause him much discomfort.”

Deciding that his little helper had learned his lesson, she plucked the knife from his hand and he withdrew the pierced appendage to his chest, where he clutched at it to stop the bleeding. He, too, got up and left, leaving Thursday alone at the table with the old man. A few other customers, their dining experience or quiet, pleasant evening ruined, also left, leaving the place with far less customers than it used to have.

“I found two bodies in the woods not far from my house. Bodies of people I was not on good terms with.” the older man said, his keen eyes staring at Thursday as though he could read her thoughts. “For that I am thankful. They would have eventually posed a problem. Your skills could be very useful to someone like me.”

Thursday sneered and shook her head.

“I’m not doing that anymore. Find someone else.” she replied angrily, wanting him to leave.

“In these, our darkest days, it is kill or be killed.” he said back, the words ringing familiar somehow. “My name is Melo, and I pay those that serve me well very handsomely.”
“Get out you evil ol’ sonofabitch!” Joyce shrieked, pulling a dagger out from behind the bar threateningly. Melo stood and walked to the door slowly, stopping before he exited to point a knobby finger at her.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Joyce.” he hissed, leaving just as silently as he’d came. A silence seemed to fill the establishment as everybody went to eating quietly. Daisy returned to her table, a sort of sadness in her eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that.” she said, her eyes focusing on the bloody knife. Thursday forked another piece of steak and held it up silently. Daisy took it and leaned down to kiss her gently on the forehead. “Thanks though. For everything.”

“No thanks necessary. Open. See why I’m wary about this place? Obviously the man with the most money is the most despised, which means he probably got his money through despicable means that may or may not have directly affected the people here.”

Thursday ate a piece of the meat herself and pointed the fork at Daisy as she chewed.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” she said, setting the fork back down on the plate. “I’m going to see what I can find out about that man.”

She stood up and Daisy grabbed her arm firmly.

“Why? You promised.”

“To make sure I don’t get hurt. I did stab his bodyguard in the hand.” Thursday said, half-lying. She was going to find out more, but it was not to protect herself. She was too confident in his men’s lack of ability to be worrying about that. “A promise is a promise. Don’t worry”

They kissed, passionately and without concern for those around them. When it broke, Thursday initiated a hug, whispering “I love you,” into her ear as she headed back into the cold night. The wind had begun to blow, one of the road-side lamps having gone out because of it, and the trees surrounding them waving to produce a sound much like the waves of the ocean. Thursday closed her eyes, letting the wind wash over her like chill water from a fall. She went back to the inn, almost certain that Karl would have some information. If not, she’d go to Melo himself, and he’d tell her if he knew what was good for him.

“Melo… yes… that man is not one to be trifled with.” Karl said over his book. Thursday rubbed at her eyes in frustration and grunted.

“But what do you know? What should I know?” she asked, staring at the him on the verge of anger. Karl finally set his book down, letting the spine bend as he kept his page against the desk.

“Melo is a murderer from a place they call the Isle of Night. We had our run-ins in the past, when we were younger, but now we are both old, bitter men merely trying to survive. Unlike me though, Melo has not retired from his old charge. He may not kill by his own hand, but he still kills.” Karl replied, his upper lip curling. “Many of the men on the Tree of Sorrow are his own men and sons. Sacrificed to save himself or his business, which is the ruining of other’s lives.”

Thursday and Karl regarded one another silently, one reading the other like the book on the table. Thursday knew that Karl was able to see who she was inside, and Karl knew that she knew.

“I’d insist that you stay away from him, but… it’s so hard to go around the world these days without killing, is it not? You either kill or get killed.”

Thursday narrowed her eyes, wondering if there was more to Melo and Karl’s previous relationship than he had told her. They seemed alike and yet so different, it was hard to be certain of anything.

“What’s the Tree of Sorrow?” Thursday asked, curiosity overcoming her. Karl uttered a small, bitter chuckled and picked his book back up.

“If you end up associating with Melo, I reckon you’ll find out rather quick.” he said softly, looking at Thursday one last time before burying his face once again in the page. “Nobody can touch him. His connections are strong and far reaching. Just…”

“Wait, wait. Don’t touch him? What do you think I-”

“I do not believe that a heart filled with evil can also love, yet I am certain that blood stains your hands and your past. That is the case with all who end up in Haven.” Karl interrupted, his eyes scanning Thursday’s velvety cloak as though he could see inside. “I suppose I assume too much to think that you are some sort of… dark Angel, punishing the wicked that manage to go on unabated.”

Letting his words sink in, Thursday felt an unusual sensation overcome her. She felt as though Karl had invaded her mind and stirred up everything she had ever thought with just a few words and a cold gaze.

“I’ll remember that.” was all she could say. Karl gave a fake smile and returned his gaze to the book, officially ending their conversation. Thursday stood there, unable to think of what she could do to occupy herself. She opted merely to go upstairs, passing by two other residents as they headed out to do something of their own. The man, a tall, beautiful man with long hair, was followed by an equally beautiful woman of somewhat identical appearance. Siblings most likely. As they passed one another, nods of courtesy were exchanged, but no words.

In the room, Thursday removed her cloak and the fore-arm sleeves that kept her never-healing scars hidden from view. The cloak went upon a small hook on the wall by the door, the sleeves on the floor beneath it. Feeling unusually tired, she took a seat on the bed and took off her shoes with her toes. She fell back and sprawled out across the width of the thing, closing her eyes in an attempt to silence her racing thoughts.

“A heart filled with evil cannot love.” she told herself, wondering if it was true. If it was, then why was she so commonly regarded as such? Was a good person so easily able to lie, cheat, and kill for their own gain or merely to make others suffer? Was it in the nature of a good person to devise ways to use others upon first meeting them?

“No… it doesn’t make sense. You’ll never take a step if you worry about every insect underfoot.” Thursday said, exhaling sharply. She stared the ceiling in the darkness for some time, letting her thoughts stew. Despite all the warnings given to her by Karl, she began to formulate a strategy that would secure her the money she needed to complete her journey. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would have to get done. She would not stay in Haven without finding Dante first, and especially not with Tim still alive.

And for the first time in a while, Thursday thought about Tim. As it was, Thursday had no chance of defeating him. Sunday wouldn’t have, and all of their other brothers combined didn’t even get the opportunity. She was all that was left, and things were looking unusually bleak. Ultima, the man created to kill her, hadn’t yet, but they had been in one another’s company twice, both times being somewhat amicable encounters. However, in his black and red eyes she could see a smoldering desire to destroy. Not just her, but anything and everything, and it was worrying.

Hours went by as Thursday merely lay on the bed thinking. For short periods of time her mind would seem an endless waterfall, loud and never-ceasing, then suddenly go completely blank. She’d stare at the ceiling without a single thought or urge in her mind, that is, until the door opened. Sitting up quickly, she rose from the bed, her bare feet not making even an ounce of sound as she crept toward the body silhouetted in the frame. Grinning, she wrapped her arms around the person’s waist and carried them into the room, where she thrust them onto the bed like a lonely soldier in a whorehouse.

“Could it be any darker in here? I thought I was being attacked!” Daisy exclaimed, looking at Thursday with one squinting eye. She knew full well that all her lover would be able to make out would be, perhaps, a bit of white flesh. Whereas for her, Daisy was in plain view. She smelled like meat and alcohol and Thursday never wanted her more. She slid out of her shorts and unclasped her top, letting them drop to the floor without concern for where they landed.

“Thursday? Where are you?” Daisy asked, a faint tinge of worry in her voice. Something told Thursday that her one-eyed friend had a fear of the dark. She crept onto the bed silently, straddling Daisy’s stomach with a lustful gaze in her eyes. Thursday grabbed the bottom hem of her linen shirt and began to lift it up until she felt some resistance, Daisy holding the shirt down upon her ribs.

“I’m so tired…” Daisy said, yawning mid-sentence. “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

Thursday stared down at her, releasing the shirt slowly to let her arms dangle limply at her side. Her upper lip curled upward just slightly and she asked, “You’re kidding, right?” just barely able to keep from yelling.

“I’m sorry, I just… feel like I need to pass out right now.” Daisy replied, her words sounding as distant as Thursday felt. Disappointment crept into her heart and was quickly replaced by anger and frustration. Daisy’s eye began to close and Thursday saw, for a brief instant, that same face contorted with fear and pain the first time Daisy ever denied her advances. She saw the spike pierce her eye and the life within her fade away. Thursday gasped at her own terrible thoughts and scrambled off of her. She fell from the bed and hit the wooden floor breathing heavily. She stared at Daisy on the bed as she curled to one side, using her own body as warmth instead of the blankets.

“I love…” she murmured, fading into unconsciousness. Thursday stood up and looked out the window at the swaying trees outside, a cool breeze causing them to dance in unison. Frustrated and angry, she found her clothes and shoes and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her as if to spite the sleep that had ruined her only chance to enjoy herself the entire day. She thought to get her cloak but no longer gave a damn. She just needed to get outside. There wasn’t any chance she’d be sleeping that night anyway.

As if possessed, Thursday stormed down the hall and the stairs and found herself outside within a matter of moments. It was there that she found she was not sure of what she was going to do. She decided to explore, walking the main street of Haven toward the opposite side, where the trees once again enveloped it. The path became so identical that Thursday wondered if she was going the wrong direction. A bridge, similar to that on the side they had entered from earlier in the day crossed a stream that was also similar. The only difference was the lack of houses lining the road. The forest became progressively thicker, it seemed, until the trees were almost like massive green walls, designating the path for her. It was not far from the bridge that Thursday found a path that branched away. Thinner, yet quite well worn, it went through the wall of trees into the darkness.

Curiosity always got the better of her, and instead of simply leaving town, Thursday started down the break-away path. It seemed like something that would be long, perhaps even maze-like, but not even twenty steps down a walkway that curved only once did Thursday find herself in a massive clearing.

“Fuck.” was all she managed to say when the sight struck her. A massive tree, larger than the castle of Arnia and more gnarled than its now dead King, ominously stood from the ground. Its leafless branches bore fruit of another kind: nooses and bodies. None of them were ever removed or given burials. Some in varying states of decomposition, the bodies swayed in the breeze that the tree did not seem to feel. The ground beneath it had grass in odd increments, but it was black and brown, as if burnt or scorched at some point. Piles of bones, unable to support themselves in their nooses, lay strewn around the tree’s trunk and large, intertwining roots. It was terrible and awesome all at once. She had no doubt found the Tree of Sorrow, and its name was well-earned.

“Are you just going to stand there or what?” Thursday asked, turning around slowly to see Melo behind her. He was still dressed the same.

“Many of my own children hang from those branches. Some I sired, some I did not, yet all died for me.” he said, his voice soft and somewhat strained.

“That’s what they say. What do you want?”

“You smell like blood.” he said, approaching her slowly. “Ever since I saw you outside my house, that stench has been in my nostrils. You smell like death. Would it not surprise you that my business is similar?”

“Oh yeah? I never would’ve guessed.” Thursday replied sarcastically, she turned her gaze back to the tree. There were so many bodies. It seemed like all the town was already hanging there.

“I know why you are here.” Melo stated simply. “We are all here for the same reason.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that, old man?”

“To find peace. To die.” he replied.

“Go away. You’re bothering me.” Thursday hissed. Melo did not leave.

“You will be paid handsomely.”

Thursday turned around and approached the man quickly, putting herself in his face as best she can considering he was shorter than she.

“I made a promise to the woman I love that I will never kill again. Stop bothering me or I will have to break that promise.”

“You will anyway. Promises were meant to get broken.”

With that, Melo started to walk away, back into the tree-walled path and out of sight. Thursday shook her head and turned back to the tree, watching the bodies dance their macabre dance in the wind. She would stay there most of the night.

“Where were you?” Daisy asked, sitting backwards on a barstool to face her. It was morning, and as such there weren’t many customers. Nobody came for breakfast, only dinner. At least, that’s what Joyce said.

“I was looking at a tree.” Thursday replied simply, finding that she really felt as though she wanted to yell at her. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“I missed feeling your warmth when I woke up.” Daisy said softly, as if not being there had ruined the rest of her day.

“Yeah? Well how do you think I-”

Thursday stopped herself and watched Joyce work behind the bar, preparing glasses and mugs to be used at some point during the day.

“Joyce, who cooks if you are always out here?” she asked quickly, wanting to make sure Daisy didn’t pursue the end of her previous statement. The old whore smiled at her and set down what she was doing.

“My daughters, of course. Only the women in this family can cook, I swear. Ask Karl to make ya somethin’ and it’d be better to eat rocks. Prob’ly better for ya too.” she replied with a small chuckle. Thursday caught a glimpse of something in her eyes. Something she didn’t see often. There was so much life and happiness in them, so much experience and so much love. For her family, for life, for everything she’d been given.

“Are you gonna see if you can find some work today, honey?” Joyce asked, and Thursday snapped herself from her thoughtful trance.

“I guess I’ll have to. Who should I talk to?”

“Well, Joe, the blacksmith, he’s lookin’ for somebody I think. Other’n that, I really have no idea!” Joyce exclaimed, laughing at her own ignorance. Thursday gave her a small smile and looked at Daisy, who was staring out the open door as if hypnotized by the dirt road.

“Thursday… are you mad at me?” Daisy asked, her gaze slowly switching to Thursday’s eyes.

“No. Why would I be mad at you?” she lied, sliding off of her stool and standing before her.

“You just seem a little… odd today.”

“Instead of sleeping I spent the night analyzing a tree covered in dead bodies. It’s enough to put one in a strange mood, don’t you think?” Thursday asked with a faint smile. Infectiously it spread to Daisy, who bashfully nodded her head.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” Thursday teased, prodding Daisy in the belly with her fingers. She writhed and wriggled on the stool until the slid off and back onto her feet, giggling like a little girl.

“Okay! So you’re not mad!” she exclaimed with fake exasperation. Thursday, overcome with the emotions that still lingered from the night before, kissed her firmly, the both of them collapsing to the floor, laughing into one another’s mouths.

“Now, now, girls. This is the wrong buildin’ for that sorta thing.” Joyce said, a faint tinge of motherly scolding in her tone. Thursday broke the kiss and stared down into Daisy’s eye, lust burning in her gaze.

“I’ll be seeing you later.” she said, standing up and hefting Daisy up with her. She gave a limp wave over her shoulder as she left. Outside the pub, the chill air tickled her bare legs and belly, and for a moment she considered fetching her cloak. She decided against it, but was soon made aware that she was no longer wearing her sleeves either, her scars visible to any person who would fancy a look. They would bring unwanted questions.

Thursday returned to the inn, where Karl was nowhere to be found. She went to their room and retrieved her sleeves off of the floor, but left her cloak. The cold air was refreshing. On Effaria, a painfully dry and sunny place, the cloak would be well-needed, but on Corone, it was only an unnecessary weight. Besides, if you’ve got the goods, you may as well show them off.

Leaving the room, Thursday saw the same couple returning to theirs. No nods were exchanged. In fact, it seemed as though they were in a hurry. Thursday ignored it and continued back outside, where she took a deep breath of the cool morning air and made herself a promise:

Today I will find a job.

So she looked for one.. Joe the Blacksmith was in need of someone with smithing experience, which is something Thursday had none of. The merchants and small shop owners were self contained and needed only one person to work. The only place that seemed to want her was the bathhouse. But Thursday knew what bathhouses were, and would not subject herself to spreading her legs in exchange for gold. Especially for men. By early afternoon, Thursday was completely disillusioned with the idea of finding a job in Haven. She returned to Joyce’s restaurant, disheartened, worn out, and hungry.

“Hey sugar, you find anything?” Joyce asked, still positioned behind the bar. Thursday surveyed the establishment before answering. There was only one man in, and he was just about finished.

“No. I suppose I just lack the skills needed to survive in a normal life.” Thursday replied, Joyce seeming extremely crushed at hearing it.

“Ya sound like ya need a drink.”

“Wouldn’t matter, alcohol has no effect on me.”

Thursday took a seat at the bar anyway. In the back of her mind, she wondered where Daisy was, but didn’t make a fuss.

“What’s on the menu today?” she asked. Joyce set down a glass and looked Thursday square in the eyes.

“Whatever you want, honey.”

Thursday sighed. She didn’t feel like thinking.

“Just gimme whatever’s here.” she said, resting her head on the bar quietly. She closed her eyes and quickly began to drift into sleep, her thoughts being overwhelmed by the darkness.

“Thursday!” Daisy exclaimed, and she sat bolt upright, once again feeling as though she’d had something wonderful ruined by her. On the opposite side of the bar, Daisy stared at her with some unusual emotion on her face.

“You don’t look so good.”

Thursday grunted and said, “I don’t feel so good.”

As if she’d taken a swing at her, Daisy cringed.

“I take it you couldn’t find anything?”

Thursday groaned and looked toward the door. She felt so pathetic, then, unable to find a real job while her one-eyed companion could in their first night. She felt like Daisy was judging her.

“No! I didn’t! Because the only thing I’m good at is fucking hurting people!” Thursday snapped, standing up so fast her stool clattered away. “I’m going back to the room.”

And she did, leaving a startled and shocked Daisy behind. She stormed into the inn and upstairs, her hearing drowned out by the sound of her own beating heart. In the room, she sat upon the bed and fumed, her thoughts straying from her money situation to her sexual situation, but never lingering on one long enough to think of a solution. Slowly, she began to calm down and think more about a job. Melo’s offer echoed in her mind, taunting her with the idea of quick, easy money. All it would take is a few lives and she and Daisy could be on their way. The only problem was Daisy.

What was there to do? To accomplish the things she needed, money was necessary. To get money, she needed to talk to Melo and, if his hints were enough to explain what he needed her for, break her promise. Daisy however, wanted to settle in the first little town they found. She already had a job and she’d start making friends. It would get harder and harder to tear her away with every day that went by. Thursday made her choice and left the inn.

As she walked further away from Haven, Thursday pulled her hood over her head as a way to defend herself from curious eyes. Once she reached the bridge, she stopped, staring at the rock that Daisy had sat upon when she made the promise she was currently heading to break. She narrowed her eyes at it for but a moment before staring toward the woods. She knew where to find the bodies she’d left there, but the signs were all gone. Melo’s men or the predators of the woods must’ve done away with them. Thursday walked toward the rock and stood upon it, staring with a deep frown at the fish in the stream as they flittered about, nipping at each other when the food seemed scarce. Humans were no different, it seemed.

She leapt the stream and continued up the other side. The path was mostly bare, bereft, even of wheel marks or footsteps. Just as on the day she’d come to town, an old man sat on the porch of his isolated little cabin. The day was nearly done, and the path from the forest to the fields was shaded and green just as it was when she arrived. It was as if she were going in reverse, only minus the woman she’d come in with. The further she got down the path, the larger Melo’s little offshoot path seemed to get. When, at last the house came into full view she approached it slowly, warily, as if expecting a trap. She felt guilty for doing what she was, but it was a necessary evil.

A few men hung out on the stoop of the building. Relaxed, smoking whatever they smoked. They were laid back because they knew they could handle whatever trouble went their way. Thursday couldn’t help but find the humor in that. They had no idea what was coming their way. What seemed like a balcony seemed to go all the way around the large establishment on every floor, leaving room for a person to survey the entire perimeter. Most likely a very handy thing for someone of Melo’s profession.

Once she started down the path, a whistle came from one of the men below. On the third floor, another man opened a door and stepped onto the balcony, two more at his rear. They both carried bows, arrows at the ready. Apparently Melo did not take chances.

“What do you want?” the balcony man yelled down. Thursday withdrew her hood and some sort of sound of recognition was uttered.

“Oh, it’s you!” exclaimed the Balcony Man. Thursday focused on him, noticing a bandaged hand even from her distance. He sounded far too happy to see her than a man who’d been stabbed should have been. “Come inside, Melo is waiting!”

Thursday did as she was told. The men on the stoop parted for her like a curtain, each eying her with their own special glint in their eyes. One bore curiosity, another lust, and another something that seemed like jealousy or even hatred. Odd considering she’d never met any of them before. The doors in front were not typical. She tried to push them open but found that they would not budge. A voice behind her, snickering between words quipped, “They slide open.” adding to his friends “dumb bitch.”

Thursday slid the doors open and smiled to herself before turning around.

“You got a problem?” the man asked. Same voice as before. He stood up. He wasn’t tall, nor was he very imposing, but something about him seemed dangerous. Gray eyes barely visible through greasy strands of black hair stared back at her with a murderous fire.

“You’re pretty high strung, pal. Maybe I should cut a few of your strings.” Thursday said, her smile wicked, her eyes cold and cruel. The man swallowed and took a deep, long drag of the handmade cigarette he held. The tension between all of them was something nearly tangible, as though you could taste in in the air.

“Ah, Thursday, come in!”

Spinning on her heels, Thursday stepped inside the dwelling without a moment of hesitation. Melo stood before her dressed in his unusual, loose flowing outfit, a cat in his hands.

“That thing makes you look old.” Thursday told him, looking at it with little interest.

“Haha! But I am old, my dear. Please, come, come inside.” he said, shuffling further inside the dwelling and setting the cat upon the ground. “Oh, and please take off your shoes.”

Thursday kicked them off and left them by the wall. The entire place seemed composed of lacquered wood. All around her the floors and walls glistened with a wonderous sheen. The roof had a window within it, allowing a little bit of light inside. The stairs were directly to the right against the wall, they connected to what seemed like an indoor balcony, an alcove that allowed people to view those that entered from above. It was probably used as a second form of defense if standing outside became too dangerous.

Following Melo straight back, they found themselves at a little junction. A hall that went left and right. Melo went left. At the end of the hall was a room that was adorned with beautiful, ornate paintings on the walls. The center of the was an open pit of sorts, three steps down leading to a 15 foot by 15 foot miniature arena, mats of some unknown, yet uncomfortable looking substance lining the bottom. Thursday noted the weapons on the walls. Everything from swords to staves to unusual curved swords that she’d never seen before. For a moment, she prepared for an ambush.

“I want to test you. I need to know if you are what I think you are.”

Thursday looked at the older man and raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“A heartless killer.” Melo replied simply. “Brutus!”

The very same man that had accosted her outside came bursting into the room, obeying the command like a dog.

“I want you to engage this woman without restraint.” Melo told him, his eyes drifting toward Thursday. “Fight with the intent to kill, Thursday. He is.”

Brutus stepped into the pit without a thought and stood on the far left side, his arms raising into some sort of fighting stance. Thursday sighed and unclasped her cloak, letting it flutter to the ground behind her, pin included. She stepped into the pit on the opposite end and stood still, her expression telling them all how bored she was.

“Begin!” Melo exclaimed. Others had come in to watch the proceedings, Thursday recognized the man with the bandaged hand, he winked at her.

“I hope you’ve said your goodbyes, bitch.” Brutus threatened. He started toward her furiously, swinging a fast but unfocused right hook at her jaw that went wild as she side-stepped the attack in silent grace. Her own right hooking under his, she placed himself behind him. As her hands took hold of his head, he barely managed to utter a grunt of confusion before she thrust his skull fiercely, snapping his neck and killing him in an instant.

“Goodbye.” she uttered simply. His is body dropped limply to the floor like a discarded toy and Thursday stepped back, her cold demeanor chilling the onlookers to the bone. A life gone in an instant, just like that, and she didn’t even flinch.

“You’re a monster.” one of them said. He was an older man with deep brown hair. He was also a fool. Whether guided by the hope for vengeance or the some backwards ideal or moral that he sought to defend, he leapt into the pit, fists at the ready. Unlike with Brutus, Thursday did not wait for him to make the move. She was on him like a lion on it’s prey, and before he or anybody else knew it, both of his arms were broken, snapped at the elbow like toothpicks. He fell to the ground, laying on his back and staring at his arms in utter shock.

She stood above him like a conquerer, her breath steady, her eyes narrowed. Melo clapped somewhat listlessly.

“Why did you not kill him?” he asked over the groans of his downed soldier. Thursday looked at the old man and shook her head.

“If I keep up like this you won’t have any men left.” she answered simply, stepping from the pit and retrieving her cloak.

“I am thoroughly impressed.” Melo said, nodding his head. “We will contact you tonight. Go tell your precious flower that you are now employed.”

Thursday stared at the ringleader as she reclasped her cloak and hid her body once again.

“Don’t call her precious flower again or you’ll be joining your friend here. You call her by her name or you never mention her. That’s it.”

Her threat seemingly heeded, only out of respect, Thursday started toward the door alone, shoving her way past the wall of soldiers who seemed too stupid to realize they could not contest her. She retrieved her shoes and smiled as she put them on. A job. She had a job. Melo didn’t tell her what she’d be doing, how long it would take, or how much, exactly, she’d be getting paid, but it didn’t matter. She’d get to Karl’s restaurant, tell Daisy, and eagerly await the sex she’d no doubt recieve. I’m so proud of you, Daisy’d say as she stripped down. Thursday’s smile grew.

She jogged back to town.

The weather told of an impending storm. Chill wind and an iron gray sky threatened to spill upon them a torrent of rain, but for the time, was content to rumble and flash showily, as if teasing the people below. Because of the weather, nobody seemed to be coming in to the restaurant for dinner. Who wanted to be caught slogging through the mud and rain to get home at night? In weather such as this, Joyce had told Daisy, the lamps had habit to get blown out or off of their hooks. Without the moonlight or stars to guide them, it would mean a night spent in the inn and more money taken from their pockets.

“We try to make it a point to keep ‘em around long enough so that they give up on going home fer the night.” Joyce said, Daisy nodding her head in understanding. It was underhanded, but they needed to make a living. She couldn’t blame them.

“The people in town have pretty much gotten wise to it, damn it all. So it’ll be slow tonight.”

There was nothing left to be done. Dishes were cleaned, tables were set, but nobody was there to disrupt it all.

“Well, you may as well give it up for the night. I’ll prob’ly be closin’ it up early tonight anyway.” Joyce explained, throwing up her arms in defeat. She rapped upon the door to the kitchen. “C’mon girls, it’s time to go.”

A few young women suddenly streamed from the kitchen, their blonde hair tied back to keep it out of the food. They all resembled their mother. All skinny, all with their big noses, ample chests and long legs. Their mouths, however, were like their father’s, small, pursed, as if always in thought.

“I dunno if you’ve met the girls. This is Sarah, Clara, and Morgan.” Joyce said, pointing to each one. “Girls, this is Daisy, she’s the one with the lady friend I was tellin’ you about.”

As if a match had been thrown into dried leaves they all sparked up, chittering about things simultaneously. Daisy wasn’t able to make them all out but could pick up a few things such as “What’s it like?” and “Is she really as white as milk?”

“Girls! Come on now, that’s rude as all Hell!” Joyce exclaimed, her daughters immediately hanging their heads in shame. “Pardon them, Daisy, they’re not exactly well-traveled yet. Haven’t seen some-a the things a person can come upon in the world.”

“I-it’s fine, really. I just don’t think Thursday would like it if-”

“What wouldn’t Thursday like?” She asked from the doorway, a curious expression on her face. Daisy smiled and so did she, her previous outburst all but forgotten in an instant. Sarah, Clara, and Morgan all gasped when they saw her.

“Your girlfriend is cute!” Sarah whisper-exclaimed - or was it Clara?

“And tall!” Added another. Daisy already lost track.

“That’s quite an open set of girls you have there, Joyce.” Thursday said, stepping further inside. She addressed Joyce, but her eyes never left Daisy.

“A closed mind often leads to a quick grave, so Karl says. These girls, though they ain’t seen much, won’t be too shocked when they do.” she replied, smiling to herself. Love’s power was contagious. She’d known it, and it was wonderful to see it again, especially between two woman who wouldn’t let the world make their choices for them. It made her want to see Karl. To put herself in his still-strong arms. She clapped her hands. “Well, I think it’s time to get out of here. Let’s go, girls.”

Sarah, Clara, and Morgan all stepped out quickly. Wordlessly, Thursday took Daisy’s hand and led her along behind her. They continued toward the inn even as Joyce locked up the restaurant behind them.

“Off early?” Thursday asked, grinning. Daisy grinned back, her cheeks turning a hue of crimson against her will.

“Yeah, ‘cause of the storm and all.” Daisy replied, looking oddly at her. “You sure are hap-”

Thursday silenced her with a kiss, deep and passionate and in the middle of the road. Things felt right for the first time all day. When, after forever, it had broke, Daisy stood back as if hit with a blast of sleeping powder.

“Wow.” she said, her voice distant.

“We’re going back to the room. I’m going to show you just how much I love you.” Thursday said, half-dragging Daisy behind her into the inn. Karl uttered some form of greeting but was ignored. They fumbled up the stairs, Thursday struggling to remove both of their clothes while keeping some form of forward momentum. After they got into the room, it really became a blur. A week of pent up lust and love and aggression all released upon Daisy who, for the most part, had no idea what she was in store for.

******************************************

It was hours later that, while stretched out upon the bed, eyes closed in some vain attempt to remain lost in the past proceedings, that Thursday uttered to her half-asleep companion, “I got a job.”

Daisy was curled atop her, a tanned right arm draped over her milk-white chest. Her head rested on her shoulder, thick brown hairs occasionally tickling Thursday’s nose enough to cause her blow them away.

“You did? Where? How?”

Thursday looked down at Daisy, wondering how she would play off her little game.

“That old man that came into the bar, the one Joyce didn’t like… he needed a bodyguard.”

“What?” Daisy asked, rising quickly. She stared at Thursday with a fire in her eye that she’d never seen before.

“It’s nothing! He’s just a paranoid old fool, wants someone around to make him feel safe.” Thursday lied, sitting up and putting comforting hand on Daisy’s thigh. She looked at her pleadingly. “We need this money. I promise, there won’t be a single soul taken by my hand.”

Inwardly, she cringed. She made a promise of her own that she was planning on breaking the same night without even flinching. Her good feelings were beginning to fade. She felt guilty, and she never felt guilty.

“I’m proud of you for not giving up on it… earlier it seemed like you were ready to-”

“Shh. Don’t remind me of how I acted. I was childish.” Thursday interrupted, laying back down. “I love you, Daisy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t even be here right now. You’re the one who keeps me out of harm’s way.”

Thursday had a bad taste in her mouth. If it weren’t for her Daisy wouldn’t have died the first time. She’d still have both eyes and be free of her nightmares. It wasn’t fair what she was doing. She’d decided as soon as she remembered that she’d have to tell Daisy what really happened to her but every time she looked into that single blue eye of hers she just couldn’t bring herself to. Thursday wasn’t able to imagine what would happen if Daisy was enraged by the idea. Maybe she’d even try to kill her.

“I’d deserve it.” Thursday whispered bitterly. Daisy looked down at her curiously.

“What’d you say?” she asked, crawling cat-like over her pale body. She straddled her stomach, a fiendish smile on her face. Thursday took a deep breath and sighed it out.

“I said,” she began, effortlessly flipping the situation around so that she was on top and Daisy straddled upon the bed. “that you weren’t going to get a break.”

Thursday licked her lips and dove in for the kill, but there suddenly came a rap upon the door.

“Thursday. It’s time to go.” came a vaguely familiar voice. With a sharp breath, Thursday gave Daisy a teasing kiss on the neck and chest before planting one last peck on her left breast and rising from the bed.

“Duty calls.” she said angrily. Wondering why of all days to get a job, she chose that one.

“Daisy,” Thursday added as she headed to the door. “I need you not to tell Karl or Joyce about the job.”

“But why?” she asked, and Thursday sighed.

“They obviously dislike my employer. I don’t want them causing problems for me or us.”

Daisy furrowed her brow and looked curiously at her.

“I don’t think they’d do that…” she began. Thursday’s glare made her come quickly to her senses. “Okay, I won’t tell. Just be careful, okay?”

Thursday outstretched her arms, her cloak thrust back over her shoulders.

“Come on. Nobody can touch this except you.” she said cockily as she opened the door.

“I love you.” Daisy said bashfully from behind her. Thursday didn’t say it back. Outside the door, only one man stood. He waved a bandaged hand at her and grinned.

“You’re pretty damned good, lady. I hope you’re as good as the boss thinks you are.”

“If you don’t trust his judgement, why don’t you make a move? Prove him wrong.” Thursday asked, almost hoping he would. By the time they were at the bottom of the stairs, he had outstretched his arm before her, in an attempt to stop her from moving forward.

“Look, I don’t want trouble. I’m impressed that you’d defend your woman the way you did even when outnumbered. I’m very much impressed that you managed to catch me off-guard as well.”

“Well I’m glad you found a role model. Out of my way.” Thursday hissed, her upper lip curling.

“The name’s Aaron.” he said, stepping back from her in a way of silently declaring his non-threatening state. Thursday cocked her head to the right and shook it slowly. He didn’t give up. It would’ve been admirable if it wasn’t so annoying.

“You know my name. Let’s go.” she said, waving an arm toward the door in some attempt to keep him moving. Aaron stepped ahead, opening the door to the inn for her to exit first. She stood back, waiting for him to leave. He gave up after only a few seconds and let her hold it open herself. Aaron wasn’t about to be holding any doors open for her. No chance. A carriage awaited outside. Black and pulled by black horses, a scruffy older man sat atop it controlling them, his eyes forward, his grip on the reins sturdy. The small rectangular door was open, and Melo, dressed somewhat more regally than before sat inside staring at her.

“Aaron, she looks about ready to tear somebody’s head off. What did you say to her this time?”

“I always look like this.” Thursday hissed, shoving Aaron aside so she could enter first. She sat across from Melo, staring at him with her cold eyes.

“Where are we going and why are we going there?” she asked as Aaron entered. Undisturbed by her rude shove, he sat next to Melo and smiled at her politely.

“You, Thursday, are now my newest prize fighter in the Sinful Cellar’s fighting tournament.” Melo said with a wry grin. “Let me explain. You, and up to three other fighters are place in an arena, perhaps armed, perhaps not, and forced to batter one another until the other is left standing. Is this okay?”

“There was an arena on Effaria where such things were very popular. I never participated, as it was before my time, but I do know what you’re talking about.” Thursday said, shrugging limply. “What are the rules?”

“Anything goes, my dear. Anything. Do not expect the competitors to be unarmed as you may be, and do not let appearances decieve. Many bosses such as myself will use deceptive and magical means to enhance their soldiers… but I don’t think that matters to you, does it?”

“Not really.” she replied blandly. “I’ve faced worse, I’m sure.”

The carriage jolted into motion, speeding along in a way that seemed dangerous. Each turn felt like it was going to tip them all over. The horses whinnied noisily.

“Now, you don’t have to kill anyone, but the audience likes killers. Whomever the audience likes will bring in more money for themselves and for their boss. I know that you want to get out of Haven soon, so…”

“Sure. Kill. The more style the better, right?” Thursday asked. Melo nodded his head and seemed to smile along with her. For all she knew, she’d be able to bring in enough money just from one fight that it wouldn’t even be an issue ever again, a one-time thing. It was, of course, a false hope. Haven was small example of a larger scheme. She was a killer, and the only jobs killers got were as assassins, bodyguards and bandits. Eventually Daisy would find out and she honestly didn’t know what would happen then. As they drew closer to Serenti, she couldn’t really say she cared.

The door opened and immediately Thursday smelled the ocean. She hated the smell. It reminded her of the cramped, disgusting boats they rode from Effaria to Corone surrounded by the dying, children and women weeping for their lost spouses. It truly was a hellish experience. Before her was, by all rights, a seemingly innocuous pub. It was, in fact, called the Sinful Cellar, but there was no light inside. In fact, there were hardly any lights on in the entire area. That may have been on purpose, but she really had no idea.

“Wait here. Aaron, keep an eye out, will you?” Melo asked as he stepped toward the front door. It was painted a bright red and chipped away in spots but still quite obviously one color. The old man knocked a specific pattern and a voice whispered something to him that Thursday couldn’t quite make out. Melo whispered something back and the door swung open.

“Come in quickly.” a fat, older gentleman said. Melo rushed inside, Aaron following quickly. Thursday strolled to the entrance. When not but a foot from the door, the man grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, shutting it quickly behind him.

“You daft, bitch!? There’s people out there that’ll have my head!” he exclaimed. Thursday’s right hand had turned into black metal. She spun and put the claw tips to his throat, forcing him to back against the door to avoid any sort of direct contact. He went rigid, pressing himself against the wood as if he could disappear through it.

“I’ll have your fucking head if you touch me again, understood?”

He began to laugh, his bushy black moustache swaying with each heavy breath.

“Oh, Melo, this must be your newbie, eh?! How do you find these killers!?”

“Yes, this is Thursday.” the old man said, running a hand through his long, gray hair. “She stumbled into Haven not but a couple days ago.”

“Well, well, well. I’m Bob. I own this here joint.”

“Your business must be booming she said sarcastically, looking about the establishment with disgust on her face. It looked condemned, as if not a soul had even been in the bar for years. Dust seemed to carpet everything from the tables to the stools and even the bottles of alcohol behind the bar.

“Believe me, dear Thursday, business is indeed booming.” Melo said with a grin. “Do you not hear the drums?”

Thursday paid a little bit more attention and did, in fact, hear drums. Bob walked toward the bar and seemed to disappear behind it.

“Come on! It may be dark, but they’re only stairs!” Bob exclaimed. Thursday looked at Melo and Aaron.

“We’ll be in the audience. Bob will tell you all you need to know.”

“Whatever.”

Thursday walked around to the opposite side of the bar where a stairway seemed carved into solid stone. It led deep underground yet some light seemed to glow from the bottom. Bob was already half way down. She caught up quickly and he began to speak as though she were already there.

“I’ve gotta warn you, women aren’t treated very nicely in these little games, are you sure you’re-”

“I know what I’m doing.” was all she said in reply. It seemed to shut him up until they reached the bottom.

“The crowd loves a winner. They especially love someone who takes initiative.” he told her, looking her square in the eyes. “I’m not going to lie. Many of the people you’ll see in here tonight were captured, purchased or enslaved in some way or another. They might not even be much older than 15. Is that-”

“I’ve killed, raped, tortured, and otherwise brutalized people of many ages without regret. I think a little bloodsport won’t kill me.”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Bob asked, grinning slyly. “Today’s match will see you pitted against the competitors provided by the three other ‘bosses‘. At the end of this hall is your equipment room. There is armor, weaponry, and other assorted goods for you to bring up if you so desire. If they don’t fit or aren’t your type it’s not my problem. Listen to the guards in the room, otherwise, may whatever God you see fit to worship give you its blessings.”

Bob left and Thursday started down the dimly lit, cave-like hall. Much like the stairwell, it seemed carved through, dug away by a patient and determined hand. At the very end there was a room much larger than what she expected. Various types of body armors from chain-mail to full plate dangled on wooden mannequins. Sheathless weapons were on tables and wall-mounted hooks. Everything from swords to maces were available but really Thursday couldn’t care less. None of them were her style. Two silent and imposing men in armor stood at the only other exit, swords drawn, masks down.

“What would happen if I was to try and walk out of here?” Thursday asked, not caring which one answered.

“It’d be our jobs to stop you.” one of them said. The masks made it impossible to tell.

“Huh.”

Thursday sighed and folded her arms below her breasts. She stared at the two guards for some time before, suddenly, a bell above their heads began to jingle, irritated by a rope that traveled down into the door they had been blocking.

“Time to go.” one of them said. They parted like the door at Melo’s house and she walked past. The drums got louder the further in she went. It was dark, but at the end there was a light, a light and what sounded like battle. She began to hurry. Was she late? Was it a trap? Her quick steps became a jog until she stepped through the last bit of tunnel into a gaping arena. The sounds she heard were of a crowd, massive enough to crowd the streets of Serenti and loud enough to drown out a war. Bob’s underground masterpiece was truly underground and apparently more popular than she’d ever imagined. He stood in the center of the fighting pit, the walls around them were high and lined with intermittent spikes that appeared to be made of bone.

Three men stood centered on their own sides of the square fighting pit, one of them armored enough to appear made of metal, the other two sparsely covered but adorned with several weapons. They looked ready to fight. So was she.

“Esteemed customers, gamblers, and spectators of violent and profane, I present to you year six of the Sinful Cellar’s fighting series!” Bob exclaimed, his voice echoing through the arena by some magical means. The crowd began to cheer. They stomped their feet along with the deep, heavy war drums that pounded a steady, ominous rhythm.

“This is a four-way match to determine who, of four brand-new competitors who is worthy enough to continue on for their respective employers! To my right, the latest from our friend Salazar Pitstone, and his favorite son, Tony Pitstone!!”

The crowd cheered somewhat. Apparently the name Pitstone was not a crowd pleaser.

“To my left, the newest murderous dog from that malicious master Marcus Shadow, Hellion!”

The crowd went wild and just to be aware of who she was up against, looked to the left. The heavily armored monstrosity was Hellion, and he appeared to be just as much. The armor would, in the end, be nothing but a draw-back. Marcus Shadow, however, seemed to have a team that garnered much applause. She looked forward to fighting them.

“To my front, Stone Gray’s prized newbie, Pyrus!”

The crowd still hadn’t seemed to have died down from Hellion’s introduction, thus it seemed that Pyrus got more applause than he should have. Thursday grinned. It was her turn.

“And to my rear, the favored new girl from the Dark Knight Melo himself, Thursday!”

The audience, spurred on by Bob’s emphasis on the word ‘girl’ went off on a frenzied bout of applause, screams, and whistles the likes of which she’d never heard before. Thursday’s heart beat wildly. She’d never felt such a rush in her life. To have so many people spectating an act of violence that she could commit without fear of reprecussion or retribution, it was a real turn-on. She unclasped her cloak and thrust it back, letting it fall to the ground lifelessly to lay as a black pile.

“She comes bearing no arms or armor! She wears no sleeves, where are her tricks? Ladies and gentlemen this will certainly be a show!”

Bob darted from the center of the arena to a corner where the ground itself rose around him, lifting him into the audience area by way of pullies and rope. When it seemed had had finally gotten settled, a horn bellowed loudly, echoing through the arena like a call to war. The audience began to cheer and Thursday got goosebumps. The horn faded, and with a mighty bellow, bob exclaimed, “BEGIN!”

Had Thursday been new to the idea of killing for fun or money, she may have hesitated much like Pyrus and Tony Pitstone did. She wasn’t, and she knew that the best way to get the crowd to love her would be to take out the person that got just as much applause as she had not just quickly, but first. Hellion. Whoever Marcus Shadow was, he would be very disappointed with the results of his effort.

Grinning like a madwoman, Thursday broke into a run that surprised the crowd in its speed. They gasped as she was upon the heavily armored Hellion moments after he’d taken his only two overloaded steps. The fact that he was even able to move in the amount of metal he wore was a testament to his strength. However, walking wouldn’t exactly get one very far in a sport where even running wasn’t a viable escape. Unbeknownst to Thursday, Hellion was quite capable of swinging the massive mace he carried with ease in the steel plating that covered his body. In fact, he was a brutish, heartless man who, until being found and taken in by Marcus Shadow, traveled Concordia single-handedly destroying caravans, ravaging women, and otherwise butchering the innocent.

It was because of these things that Hellion was doubly surprised when his chest plate was torn from his body and flung away like a hunk of rotten bread.

“Dumb, stupid girl!” he yelled, swinging his weapon clumsily through the air. It struck the ground where Thursday had been standing a few moments earlier, a few moments too late. The hooks at her heels tore through the ground, kicking a cloud of dust into the air that obscured them momentarily from view. When the dust settled, Hellion’s entrails had spilled upon the ground. His abdomen, slashed into ribbons by ten razor-sharp claws, had released the organs due to the lack of flesh to hold them in. Still alive, Hellion’s mighty, barbarian voice howled much like a wolf or a coyote would have before he collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own blood and gore. Thursday stood back, blood dripping from her black, clawed fingers. The crowd seemed dead. A hush having washed over them the likes of which astounded even Bob himself.

“A-and Shadow’s Hellion is the first to fall! Disemboweled by Melo’s very own Thursday! She is, of course, my favorite day!” he exclaimed shamelessly. The crowd lost it, their near deafening silence turning into a truly deafening roar of applause and awe. Thursday had to wonder, then, if the Sinful Cellar’s little tournaments had ever seen someone as vicious as herself in them. She let herself bask a moment more in the love of the audience before turning her attention to Pyrus, a blonde haired man with brown, tanned leather on as his only form of armor. Upon realizing that her gaze had settled upon him, Pyrus seemed to freeze. He seemed a statue until - out of some hope for a quick, merciful death - he drove the dagger in his right hand firmly to his temple, piercing his brain and snuffing himself before anybody would get the chance. The audience laughed, and with them, so did Thursday.

“Pyrus, it seems, has had enough of the games for one night, folks!” Bob exclaimed, his voice tinged with humor. The crowd ate it up, laughing once again. “It appears that all we have left now are Tony Pitstone and Thursday, and call me crazy, but I think the Pitstone line is gonna be finished after tonight!”

As if spurred on by this blatant insult at his skill (and obvious decree that he will soon be dead), Tony Pitstone charged at Thursday, short-sword in hand. In the time it took Tony to close the distance between she and him, she had some time to decide on what method she would use to dispatch him. She thought of how Daisy would react if she saw any wounds on her. Briefly she considered her more destructive powers but, to use them in front of such a large audience could acquire attention outside of the arena that she would be much better off without.

When Tony came swiftly approaching, Thursday stood at the ready. Knees bent, claws bared, she was situated to handle any sort of situation besides the one that actually happened. At the last moment, Tony’s left foot struck the ground oddly, and embarrassingly and fatally enough, he fell face-first to the ground, sliding to a halt not but a foot away from her. He coughed, breathing in dust with every gasp for air he took. But when they began to subside, it sounded as though he were laughing. Laughing at the absurdity of it all. Thursday stomped on his right wrist, forcing him to release the sword he still managed to possess. As she knelt to grab it, Tony Pitstone stopped laughing suddenly.

“I guess we know why they didn’t clap for me, eh?” he asked, still finding some sort of bitter humor in his predicament.

“If it’s any consolation,” Thursday began, noting Tony’s surprise that she even spoke, let alone affably. “This isn’t personal.”

She raised his sword above her head and drove it down into him, piercing his head and pinning him to the ground. He writhed somewhat as a pool rapidly formed beneath him. The crowd was going wild.

“And today’s obvious winner, the bright up and comer Thursday! She will move on to the next round to face bigger, badder and meaner opponents than before! Thank you for joining us tonight at the Sinful Cellar and don’t forget to collect on your bets, folks! Good night!”

Just like that, Thursday wasn’t even important anymore. Above her, the crowds rose from their seats and started toward exits that Thursday was curious about. Where, exactly, did everybody come in from? Where there abandoned buildings all over the city used as hubs and secret entrances? She noted it as something to ask Bob the next time she saw him. Unfortunately, it would be sooner than she hoped.

She went back the way she came in, finding the two guards still standing their posts in front of her exit.

“I take it you won?” one of them asked. Thursday stopped in her tracks, not bothering to face them.

“I’d imagine that the losers don’t just walk out. Do they, you fucking moron? What do you think?” she hissed angrily, starting back down the hall she’d once used to come inside. Behind her, none-too-concealed, someone whispered, “What a bitch.”

She made her way back up the stairs and through the abandoned, dusty building to the outside world. Serenti seemed, once again, a city. People walked the streets as innocuously as before. Nighthawks trudging from pub to pub, prostitutes strolling their favorite alleyways. The empty place she saw before was nothing like the one she stood in now.

“Someone like you would make an invaluable addition to my team.” said a raspy, grinding voice. From around the corner of the Sinful Cellar approached a handsomely dressed man. His hair was black and, much in the opposite of his expensive clothes and straight-backed, rigid demeanor, it was greasy and untamed, drooping into his face in locks. He wore a cloak that flowed despite the fact that there was no breeze. It obscured the rest of his body in the darkness as well as reminded Thursday that she forgot hers inside.

“Hellion was a worm. You… you are something special. You should join the winning team before it’s too late for you.”

“You must be Shadow.” Thursday said, unimpressed by the sleazy man before her. Threats like his were the tools of the weak. She doubted there was anybody he could throw at her, tournament or otherwise, that she couldn’t handle. “I’d suggest leaving soon.”

“Do you think I am scared of that old fool Melo?! Please!”

“I suggested it. Not him.”

Teeth flashed and Marcus Shadow turned around, strutting off into the city as if he owned it. Were it another time and place, Thursday wouldn’t have hesitated to cut his throat the moment he turned away, but outside of the arena she was not laying her hands on a single person. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. However, she could not. Daisy was no rookie to the horrors of war. She’d know the smell of blood.

When the carriage approached, Thursday stared at it with indifference. The door opened and Aaron stepped out, holding the door open for her. She stood still, staring.

“Jeez, you just won’t let me win, will you?” he asked in exasperation, stepping back on and taking his seat. Thursday followed, sitting exactly where she had on their way there. Melo sat opposite her, smiling a smile that reminded her of Sunday.

“You were…excellent, my dear. It’s a shame your woman does not appreciate your talents. Were she here today, she would have been so proud.”

“You know what? That is a shame.” Thursday said, at first irritated by his words but coming to find the truth in them. Would their relationship ever work if things continued the way they were? If she wanted to find Dante, then eventually she would need to confront Ultima. Did Daisy expect her to merely lay down and give up so soon? To retire when she’d just begun to shine?

“Here are your winnings. It truly is a shame about Pitstone. His wife would not stop screaming after the battle.” Melo said, handing her a medium sized leather pouch. It appeared somewhat small, but when grasped, was heavy enough to function as a powerful bludgeoning tool.

“How much is this?”

“Five hundred. It will get progressively higher as the matches progress. By the end of this whole ordeal, you and I will be much richer.”

“Thursday… I gotta admit,” Aaron began, his green eyes twinkling, “You proved yourself a force to reckon with. Brutus would be honored to have died by your hand.”

Thursday scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Brutus was an idiot. Melo sent him to his death knowing full-well that either his best man would die, or he’d have a new one shortly.” she said. Melo laughed.

“Brutus was not my best man. Aaron is. Unfortunately, due to a wound he incurred during a scuffle in a bar, he is unable to participate.” he said, winking at Thursday knowingly. “But, I suppose he will think twice next time he decides to touch a waitress’ backside.”

“It was worth it.” Aaron said, folding his arms across his chest with a grin. Thursday eyed him as though she were ready to wring his neck, and for a moment it seemed as though she were going to. The look faded into a grin and then to a silent laugh.

“You should see it without the pants.” she said, and they all laughed.

Thursday once again had found herself a group of like-minded thugs that she could call her comrades.

When the carriage came to a halt before Melo’s offshoot path, Thursday had been the first to the door and the first out. The path had small torches lining it. Beacons for whoever may have gone out for dinner and ended up coming back drunk. A few men still hung out on the porch, smoking, talking, enjoying the crisp night air. It never ended up raining. The sky had cleared and the stars were out, the moon was illuminating the forest beautifully. It was the type of night Thursday would’ve enjoyed walking in. Instead, she reeked of death. Blood caked on her arms and face, she stared at Melo as he got out, watching him step from the carriage to the ground without assistance, yet suddenly use his cane upon taking steps toward her.

“You did very well tonight, Thursday.” Melo told her, nodding his head at her in respect

“Thanks.” she said, feeling suddenly very guilty. While in the process of killing Hellion and Tony Pitstone she really felt good. She felt like she was back doing what she was always meant to do. Now that it was over, the arena back in Serenti, she was reminded of Daisy and the promise she broke just to make some money. She felt, in the pit of her stomach, that she had done something bad. Ironic in that killing two people, she didn’t really care, but a simple promise could tear her apart.

“Come inside with us. I shall have a bath prepared.” Melo said, snapping his fingers. Aaron sped past them, heading inside the massive house with determination. “Though you may not have seen them before, I have several beautiful women that I employ to do several things. Make meals, clean clothes, and so on. I suppose it is my way of substituting for my lost wife.”

“How did she die?” Thursday asked as they started down the path. She had an idea. Any man who had the title of Dark Knight before his name and worked with such unsavory characters as Marcus Shadow had to bring misfortune down upon those he grew close to simply by association.

“She took ill, died in her sleep. This was about ten years ago.” Melo said simply. That was all it seemed he wanted to say about her. They continued inside in silence. Without needing to be told she slipped her shoes off on her own, Melo doing the same right next to her.

“Continue to the main hall, go right, and to the far end on the left. It will be made certain nobody disturbs you.” Melo said softly, shuffing toward the hall and going left. Thursday followed, looking down the left hall to see Melo step into another room. She wanted to ask how he earned his title ominous title and what his past with Karl truly was, merely out of curiosity, but it would have to wait. She started toward the right and, somewhere midway down the hall began to smell flowers. It was strong enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be stifling. At the far end to her left she found a door open and waiting. A pale woman was inside, kneeling besides a marble pit in the floor. It was massive, enough to hold probably all of Melo’s entourage if needed.

“Hello, you must be here for bath?” the little woman asked, her almond shaped eyes dull and empty like those on a doll. She spoke with an accent Thursday had never heard before.

“Yes. What are you here for?” she asked, staring at the seemingly confused woman intently. She held out a cloth and made a motion as though she were wiping an invisible window.

“I… wash?”

Thursday approached and snatched the cloth away.

“Get out.”

The woman gave an odd bow at the waist and shuffled to the door. She closed it behind her and Thursday finally felt as though she could relax. Alone at last, she let her cold face express the feelings that wrenched her gut. Guilt, paranoia, and some sort of sadness all vied for her full attention and release, but she didn’t let them have it. She undressed, leaving her shorts and nearly non-existant top where they lay. Approaching the water, she found it was the source of the smell, some sort of perfume having been mixed into it at some point, perhaps magically. Balancing on one foot, she dipped a white toe into the water, testing it. She couldn’t see any obvious fire or any other means of warming the water, yet it was hot. Not scalding, but not tepid either. Without an ounce of restraint, Thursday let herself slip into the depths of the enormous bath. She found it looked much more shallow than it was and she broke the surface of the water, letting it envelope her entire body. As she sank, she opened her eyes and crossed her legs sitting at the bottom of the bath sitting on the warm marble listlessly. She watched the faint torchlight from under the water, her hair writhing around her like black snakes. When she needed air she returned to the surface and stood. The bath, at it’s deepest, stopped just below her collarbone.

“What am I going to do?” she asked herself, staring at the reflection in the water. Something behind her head caught her eyes and she craned her neck upward. The entire ceiling seemed composed of a glass dome. She was thankful to find that there were no people staring in at her, but the moon was. Looking like a half-shut, judging eye it bore into her, reminding her of what she’d done. She grabbed the cloth and began to scrub vigorously at her fingers and arms. A red, watery mist began to float around her, slowly dissipating into non-existence. With it, so did some of her guilt and anxiety. The evidence was gone, but the lie still remained. Thursday let herself sink once again, the water washing over her face and hair until she was enveloped in it. She fingered her scalp thoroughly, scratching at it and removing knots in her hair. When she came up, Melo was sitting at the edge of the bathing pool, legs crossed. His gray hair hung over his face and he looked tired, moreso than a man his age should have.

“My wife… she did not die from illness.” he said simply.

“I figured. Do you watch all of your fighters bathe or just me?” Thursday asked, sounding truly uncaring about the matter.

“No. You have nothing I desire, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Drip by drip, Thursday’s hair cut the silence.

“How did she die?”

“Marcus Shadow killed her.” Melo said, his voice devoid of emotion.

“What?! Why is he still-”

“He killed her in the ring.”

She suddenly knew why Melo had come to see her.

“She got involved when a son of ours was killed by one of his men. She challenged him to a duel. My dear… she was quite a warrior. Quite a fierce rogue before I had met her. Shadow was better.”

Thursday stared at him for a moment before finally asking, “Why are you telling me this?”

“I tell you this because I wonder… are you sure you’re ready to do what this job requires? You may very well die or, even worse, a vengeful widower or Boss may try to hurt someone you care about. No, the only person you care about. Daisy.”

“If I wasn’t sure about this I wouldn’t be here.” Thursday said, finding his worry unnecessary and offensive. “Maybe you’d forgotten, but you pressured me to do this. Why the sudden concern?”

“I see the love in your eyes. The same love I once saw in the eyes of my old friend and his wife.”

“Karl and Joyce?”

“Indeed. But that is another story.”

Thursday sighed, her hair had nearly gone completely dry.

“Why haven’t you gotten Shadow for your son and wife?”

Melo grinned, the type of grin that would fit a Dark Knight.

“I have. I took his son and his wife. My men have made his life very unpleasant as far as his dealings and the Sinful Cellar goes, but now that Brutus and Aaron are out of comission, I expect you to keep up in their stead.”

“You know I will.” Thursday said resolutely. She clenched her fists beneath the water, the mere thought of Daisy being harmed because of her turning her stomach inside out.

“Well, then this old man is going to retire for the night.” Melo said, standing with a grunt. He headed for the door but stopped before opening it. “There is another bout tomorrow night, but beforehand I would like you and yours to join Aaron and I for dinner.”

“Sounds nice. We’ll stop in then.”

He took his leave and Thursday let herself sink beneath the water once again, staring at the wavy moon as it judged her from above.

A short walk later, Thursday was creeping up the stairs of Karl’s inn, silent as a ghost. Had she not known better, she - and probably anybody else - would have thought her an assassin on a job, sneaking around to kill some hapless person with the wrong kind of enemies. She found the door to her room unlocked and upon entering was greeted by the dull glow of dwindling candlelight. Daisy, still undressed, was curled to the left side of the bed, twitching and moaning unpleasantly in her sleep.

“No,” she said, sounding frantic and scared, “Please, I’m a…”

Thursday clenched her teeth, her eyes narrowed. The pleas sounded too familiar.

“Daisy?” she asked, trying to rouse her from her nightmare with words.

“Stop… please stop-” Daisy’s sentence was punctuated by a piercing shriek. Tears formed in Thursday’s eyes as she recalled the very same sound years ago, the day she perpetrated the horrors Daisy was currently reliving in her sleep. The agonized howl Daisy uttered filled Thursday with an undeniable urge to protect and comfort her sleeping partner. She charged at the bed and crawled atop it with cat-like grace. At Daisy’s rear Thursday draped herself over her body as best she could, pressing herself against the unusually cold flesh. In pleading, desperate tones, Thursday could only repeat, “I’m sorry.” to her, as If it could take away all that she’d inflicted.

“Mmm… you smell really good…” Daisy mumbled drowsily. Thursday swallowed hard, trying to remove the lump in her throat that she knew would hinder her speaking.

“Yeah… I-I had a bath tonight.” she croaked in reply, wiping her eyes vigorously. “How- uh, how are you?”

“Fine, I guess. I was having the nightmare again.” Daisy said bashfully, as if it were something to be ashamed of.

“It’s fine, I’m here now.” Thursday said softly, squeezing Daisy firmly into her.

“Are you okay?”

Daisy rolled over in Thursday’s embrace to face her. She stared as best she could in the waning light at Thursday’s eyes, both of which were focused on the Black Eye and not her true one.

“I’m just… really happy to see you.” Thursday said, lying in the fact that that was not the problem. Daisy chuckled faintly.

“You’re such a softie.”

Thursday went stiff. Softie? Nobody had ever called her that in thirty years of life.

Then again, she thought, I’ve never been as soft as I am now. I hold in my arms, right in front of me, the thing that makes me soft. My weakness. Maybe I have gone soft, but even if I have, I really don’t care. With Daisy I’ve never felt happier. Every word she says, no matter how stupid, is beautiful prose. Like a fool, I’m completely in love. Nothing else matters besides that.

“You’re my life, Daisy, you know that, right?” she asked, trying to sound calm and composed.

“And you’re mine,” Daisy replied dreamily. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Sure, yeah… just trying to adjust to this new life of ours.”

Daisy gave a faint chuckle and pressed her lips to Thursday’s gently. She pulled back with a full-on smile.

“I’m so happy you’re doing this, Thursday. I love you so much.”

“Yeah…” Thursday muttered, trying to find a way to change the subject. “You know… every time I hear you say that I just get this wonderful tingle between my legs.”

“Say what? I love you?”

“Oooh, yeah, just like that.” Thursday said with a grin, teasingly beginning to tickle Daisy. Unable to defend herself from the assault, Daisy frantically writhed and flopped about until she fell off the bed. At the same time that she struck the wood, their door burst open. In it stood Karl, naked save for a pair of plain white underpants and a gleaming broad-sword.

“I heard a scream! What’s going on in here!?” Karl yelled, his voice a resonating boom perfectly fit for a Paladin. Embarrassed and exposed, Daisy leapt back under the covers and buried herself beneath them, as if hoping he wouldn’t know she was there.

“Daisy had a nightmare. Everything is fine.” Thursday said stiffly, sitting up on the edge of the bed and glowering at him. “And even if it wasn’t. There’s nothing that could happen here I couldn’t handle.”

“You think so?” Karl asked, grinning and shaking his head. “Young arrogance will not always protect you, Thursday. Keep it down.”

He closed the door behind him and Thursday followed to lock it.

“Do you think he saw my-”

“No. He’s old and it’s too dark. I did, though.” Thursday said, the playful mood suddenly eliminated. What if instead of Karl it was an assassin or Tim come to finally enact his charge. Her upper lip curled, her fists clenched tight.

“Thursday?” Daisy asked, rousing Thursday from her paranoia and unnecessary rage. “Come to bed, it’s cold under these blankets without you.”

Wordlessly, she joined her weakness in bed and, left arm draped over Daisy’s curled up form, fell asleep in but a few moments. She didn’t dream.

Daisy spent the day at work existing in a sort of dreamlike state. Nothing seemed like it could truly be happening. She was lost in her thoughts. When she had awoke that morning, Thursday was not next to her. She was naked at the window, staring out as if entranced by the forest beyond the town. They spoke a little, about little things. How work was going for Daisy, to which she replied, “Good, good.” and about Thursday’s first day at work, which she had nothing to say about whatsoever. Daisy got dressed, kissed Thursday goodbye, and went across the road to her job. The morning yielded quite a few customers, most of which wanted a hearty meal before going to their own jobs that they - or their wives - would not supply them. Daisy got a few small tips, wondering just how much Thursday had brought home with her the day before. The pouch was massive, bulging. The stitches threatening to burst at any moment. She couldn’t believe that the old man that she’d seen not but two days earlier could have been the supplier of such funds on his own. Then again, his house was bigger than most of Haven’s main street.

“You okay, honey?” Joyce had asked. Shocked, Daisy stumbled over her own feet, spilling some ale to the floor. She knelt and began to wipe it up with a cloth before replying.

“Yeah, I’m fine I guess. Just… I dunno. A bit out of it today I guess.” she said, the ale having been cleaned. She gave the mugs to the man who had requested the both of them and returned to the bar, sitting upon a stool with a great, drawn out sigh. It felt good to be sitting.

“Are you not happy here, Daisy?” Joyce asked in all seriousness, like a concerned mother. Daisy shook her head slowly.

“No, I mean yes- I mean no!” she fumbled, trying to make sense of her own sentence, “sure, I’m fine here, I guess I am just a bit worried about Thursday.”

Joyce set down the glass she was wiping down and leaned a bit over the bar upon her elbows.

“Something wrong with you two?”

“Not at all, just… it seems like there is something going on I don’t know about.” Daisy said, running a hand through her own short, scruffy hair, ruffling it much like Thursday often did playfully. “She’s got this new job… it kept her out late. I was asleep when she got back in and when I woke up well, I think she was crying.”

“Who is she working for?”

Daisy remembered Thursday’s request, and frankly, she wasn’t sure how Joyce would react anyway. It was easy for her to say, “I don’t know.”

“Out late and came home cryin’ huh? You don’t think she’s… selling her body, do you?”

Joyce’s question, while at first sounding ridiculous, had caught Daisy off guard. It seemed entirely out of character, but maybe, just to finance their journey, Thursday had subjected herself to the sexual wiles of men only to keep her promise not to kill. Daisy slid from her stool and quickly ran out the front door. Not far to the left of the entrance, she collapsed to her knees and vomited into the dirt, coughing and sputtering as she tried to rise but stumbled backward onto her rear. Joyce had followed, making some noise of worry as she approached.

“My goodness, Daisy! Are you okay?!”

“What have I done?” she asked, tears in her eyes. She could still taste the bile. “I drove her to it, oh God I turned her into a whore! How stupid could I be?!”

Daisy’s screams drew the attention of a few street-walking citizens out on their daily business. Eyes would linger and whispers would be sent between spouses and gossipy housewives.

“I think you should take the rest of the afternoon off, dear, you need to get some things sorted if I say so myself.” Joyce said, helping Daisy to her feet with arms that didn’t look as strong as they turned out to be.

“Now, you go to Thursday and you figure it all out. If you see Karl, tell ‘im he’s just gonna have to deal with it.”

Daisy nodded her appreciation and walked slowly back across the street, trying to find the words she needed. She didn’t want to just come out and ask, it could be potentially damaging if not fatal. By the time she’d gotten inside, she still had nothing.

“Excuse me, one-eye, shouldn’t you be working?” Karl asked, his words sounding simultaneously cruel and yet not.

“J-Joyce let me off for the day, I threw up.” Daisy said shyly.

“Hope it ain’t a plague you got, girl. Best go up to your room.”

“Where’s Thursday?” she asked, starting toward the stairs.

“Not up there. She’s out back talkin’ to some foppish lookin’ fella.” Karl said, his tone becoming dark. “She didn’t look very happy to see him.”


*************************************


“I just don’t understand you.” Tim said, arms folded across his chest. He had a new suit, this one a dark violet, composed almost entirely of velvet it seemed.

“How could you? If I’m inhuman and you’re worse than I, what does that make you?” Thursday asked, looking at the incredibly tall Homunculus blankly.

“It makes me a monster, of course, but, you are changing the subject, dear sister. Do it again and I’ll cut out your tongue.” he threatened, his voice calm as if it were casual conversation. “Why do you love her? How do you love her? Even after she makes your guts go wild after doing what you do best, you still cling to this one-eyed human as though she’s-”

“Shut up, Tim.” Thursday hissed, striking a chuckle from him. “I don’t know why. If I could figure it out I suppose I’d have to write a book.”

“Well you two certainly are perfect for one another. Two un-aging, soulless vessels. How does she taste, hm?”

“You’re disgusting.” Thursday said, diverting her gaze.

“Well! I suppose that is my cue to leave! I’ll be seeing you later.” he crooned, and black flames engulfed his body. They retracted and he was gone, a simple scorch mark residing in the grass where he once had been. Thursday shivered, not because of the chill air, but because of the fear he inspired in her. He could kill her at any moment, so why, why did he continue to torment her with it? Was sadism something else Dante had programmed into his wicked mind?

“Thursday?”

Spinning to face the voice, Thursday’s clawed hands were at the ready. Instead, Daisy stood at the corner of the inn, hands wrung in front of her as if she’d walked in on her angry parents in hopes of forgiveness.

“Oh, Daisy. What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Thursday asked furrowing her brow in curiosity. Daisy sniffled and shook her head.

“No, I… It’s just I… I don’t feel very good. I threw up outside the restaurant.”

Thursday approached as swiftly as an arrow, putting a cold white hand to Daisy’s forehead tentatively.

“You don’t feel very warm. In fact you’re pretty cold.” Thursday said, concern in her voice. “You-”

“I’m just gonna go lie down. I’ll um, I’ll see you when you get…” she trailed off, her gaze going toward the ground. “When you get off… work.”

She scampered away and Thursday took a deep, breath. So much for dinner with Melo. Sensing that there was something else going on with Daisy, Thursday decided it was best not to join her upstairs. It was only early afternoon, but there was nothing else for her to do and nowhere else for her to go. She decided that she’d go to the only place where she felt like she could belong, Melo’s house. She started to walk, noting what a fantastic day it was outside.

Up the stairs and to the right side of Melo’s dwelling, he and Thursday sat on an open balcony that stared into the thick green of the forest. He drank tea, stopping occasionally to rub the his unusual robe down the chest with the back of his hand. Either out of some compulsion to smooth it, or merely to enjoy the silk on his skin, Thursday couldn’t be sure, but she saw it, and for some reason the repetition bothered her.

“You seem unusually tense, Thursday,” he said, taking a silent sip from the ceramic, floral patterned cup. “Does the line of work I’ve put you in cause some sort of stress?”

Looking curiously at the man, Thursday took a deep breath and sighed it all out, her gaze returning to the swaying leaves splayed before them. Already the old man seemed to have a connection with her, a sort of fatherly concern. Something she easily deduced, especially after his tirade at the Tree of Sorrow. She, Aaron, the now-dead Brutus, they were all his children, and she was probably the first daughter he’d ever come to know. She’d never felt the urge before to talk about any problems simply because she’d never had any. But in a relationship like the one in which she found herself, in love with the woman she once raped and murdered, well, things were going to get pretty tense after a while.

“Daisy…” she began, unable to find the right words. It was embarrassing to say the least.

“Say no more. Love is an ever changing landscape,” he told her, winking from behind his cup. “You don’t have to tell me what is wrong if you don’t want to.”

“I promised her I wouldn’t kill again. As soon as we got to town I promised her I wouldn’t do it and now the guilt is just…” her teeth clenched as if to further illustrate the point, “eating at me. Every time I look at her I feel this emptiness inside, you know?”

“I do not know, but I understand. You feel guilty for lying to the woman you love. That is not so unusual. Just tell her the truth, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“She’s a reanimated corpse. Much like I was created from nothing. I was the one who took her right eye and killed her, but before that I used a metal spike to steal her… chastity,” she added, the cold demeanor at which she spoke it leaving Melo staring at her, speechless. Thursday sighed, feeling a bit of the tension leave. Now someone knew, and that was a start.

“Well,” Melo prefaced with a chuckle, “That certainly complicates things. I’m guessing that she does not remember how she died if she chooses to remain in your company.”

Thursday suddenly felt something dark nag at her. Of course. It was foolish to think Daisy would stick around if she knew the truth.

“She doesn’t know, obviously. You’re right though, I should just tell her.”

“Of course, lest she finds out herself. Then she could believe you were attempting to continue the lie. That would not bode well for your relationship.”

“No… of course not,” Thursday said softly, sinking into thought. She began to process the situation in a more logical, cold fashion, like the Thursday she was as opposed to the one she’d become. The plan had been set in her mind, and after the fight, it would be put into action. Away from Daisy and in the presence of Melo, Thursday felt like her old self again. It was an unusual, distancing sensation, like a traveller visiting their child-hood house. It was home once, but it didn’t feel the same anymore.

“Are you even certain that you two are compatible? Surely she is aware of your… nature by now.”

Thursday had never thought about it. Feelings could be misleading, blinded, confused. It had all happened so fast, maybe in the end they simply weren’t meant to be.

Dinner with Melo and his men went by in a blur of warm bread and wine, the latter of which was not to be consumed by the fighter of the evening, no matter how much she insisted it had no effect on her. Aaron, however, seemed to be more than willing to make up for her share of the wine, having imbibed far too much to be useful as a bodyguard or even as company. Melo opted to leave him behind. Despite the odd silence between them on the trip to the port city once again, things progressed almost exactly as they had her first night. Less confrontational when greeted once more by Bob, Thursday shook his hand and headed, as she had before, to the staging area.

She again eyed the weapons that were laid out for her, but noted their poor quality. Surely anybody who was supposed to be there would come prepared. The Sinful Cellar may have had a more sinister side to it than mere gladiatorial combat. Whether it still went on, she didn’t know, and doubted she’d ever need to.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Thursday said to the two guards at the end of the room, guarding the tunnel that led to the arena itself. Swords drawn, they looked at one another as if unsure whether they should reply at all, most likely still irritated by her behavior the last time she was there. If it was the same men, she couldn’t tell, their armor made it nearly impossible. Something about them seemed off, however. Their movements were wracked with hidden signs of nervousness and worry. They glanced at one another, looking for something, and finally the guard on the right stepped forward.

“You’re going to die out there tonight,” he said, rather plainly. Thursday smiled at first, thinking it was a morbid joke at first. The smile faded when the other guard stepped toward her as well.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

They looked at one another again. The one on the right spoke for them again, telling her, “All three fighters are Shadow’s. They’ve been instructed to focus their attacks all on you. Even your strange magics can’t save you.”

“Hellion was my brother!” screamed the other suddenly. The guard on the right extended his arm, holding the man back for a moment.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Thursday stated sarcastically. “What makes you think I can’t handle Shadow’s boys? I took care of Hellion just fine. Your buddy there remembers, doesn’t he? How his brother watched his guts spill out onto the dirt, helpless to do anything to stop it.”

“Filth!” screamed the left guard. In his rage infused attack, Thursday found herself startled and surprised at the man’s speed. He was on her quick, having swung and landed a powerful blow to the side of her head, the hilt of his sword being used as a club. Whether it was meant to be a decapitating attack that missed in a fortunate way, or simply a way to throw her off guard, it worked, sending her stumbling a moment as her vision blurred. Still mildly confused, she leapt to the side as she man swung downward with his weapon, the blade cutting through the air audibly.

“What is this?!” she growled, kneeling in a predatory stance.

“We were paid rather well to wound you before the fight begins. Please understand this is nothing personal on my behalf,” said the guard on the right as she stepped into the fight. Realizing the situation, and having successfully recovered from the blow to the head, Thursday took a handful of the dirt from the floor into her right hand and tossed it unceremoniously into the eyes of the man whose brother she’d killed. The throw was well-aimed, much of the stuff hitting the guard’s face and eyes even past the metal slits in his helm. He stumbled back, doing the very thing Thursday hoped he’d do in order to fix his vision: he removed his helmet. Chubby face revealed, Thursday thrust her right palm into the man’s wide nose, forcing a break and further inhibiting his ability to perform. His sword dropped to the dirt as both hands rose to stop the torrent of blood.

“Come on, idiot! It’s one girl!” the other guard yelled, wisely keeping his guard up as he closed the distance between them.

“Yeah, idiot! Come on!” Thursday mocked as she tore her cloak free and tossed it aside, revealing her suddenly black-clawed metal hands. She made a teasing attack motion at the guard and he stepped back, yelping faintly in surprise. Some distance between them once again, she leapt at the other guard, his eyesight having finally returned in time to see a much larger problem approach. The sharp-tipped fingers of her right hand drove into his exposed eyes, eliciting a sharp, high-pitched shriek as he fell backward, now permanently blinded. Unfortunately for Thursday, the attack of one guard left an opening for the other. Once her attention had switched focus, he was running already frantically down the tunnel toward the arena.

“She’s attacking the guards!” he began to scream, a strange fear having suddenly come to his voice. “She’s gone mad! She’s gone mad!”

Angry at the sudden attack and the confusing nature of the situation, she reached for the other, still screaming guard, shaking him violently as she asked, “What’s going on here?! What is he doing?!”

Whether he decided living blind wasn’t worth it, or simply out of a mad, pain infused delirium , the blinded guard laughed as his head turned to the slowly disappearing voice that ran down the tunnel.

“Y-you didn’t know?” he asked, still laughing to himself.

“Know what?!” she screamed, shaking him once more.

“The penalty for attacking staff is death! You’ll… you’ll have agents from all over Corone paid to hunt you down!”

He kept laughing up until the moment her claws found his throat, digging their way in slowly and cruelly until he had died. Panting from both excitement and uncertainty, Thursday quickly grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, once again obscuring her pale flesh and blending in with the shadows. There came a sudden, deep thud against the door that had sealed her in the staging room. Thinking it was going to be the reinforcements, Thursday slunk into the darkest corner, ready to pounce when the unsuspecting men came in. However, when the door opened she did not have to attack. Melo stood there, his eyes cold, his teeth bared. His hands and face were covered with blood, as was the front of his strange, showy robe. The blood was not his. A gleaming thing in his hand caught the light, and Thursday grinned as she stepped from the darkness. The handle of what was once his cane was connected to a long, slender blade, from which streaks of crimson dripped to the floor.

“Years of planning on behalf of Marcus Shadow have gone into this night, Thursday. I’m sorry you had to be a part of it,” he said, staring at the homunculus with strong, determined eyes. “As it is, however, we need to get out of here immediately.”

The old man and Thursday hastily returned to the surface, stepping over the bodies of the men Melo slaughtered on his way to her. They unhooked and stole the horses from their carriage, the driver of which may have been dead, or simply off awaiting his pre-determined arrival time. As they sped from Serenti on their filched steeds, Thursday looked at the narrow-eyed Dark Knight. His mind was obviously not there. In his head, he was determining the course of actions that had brought him to that night. The series of revenge kills and thwarted plans exchanged that sent Marcus Shadow down the path to what seemed to be assured victory over his long time nemesis.

“To be honest,” Thursday yelled over the sound of stamping hooves, “I actually am kind of impressed! This is a pretty underhanded scheme he’s pulled off!”

Melo looked at her gravely, slowing his horse once he felt they had sufficiently found themselves in the wilderness again.

“He has ruined my livelihood and put all of us in danger,” he said, his tone firm and bitter. “You’re right. I wish I had thought of it myself.”


*********************************************


Meanwhile in Haven, Daisy was sitting in the pitch black room she shared with the woman she was certain she drove into prostitution in order to keep her from killing people. She sat at the edge of the bed, tossing one of her twin daggers into the air and catching it by the hilt. It was something she found herself doing often when stuck deep in her thoughts. Everything seemed so out of her control it was frustrating. The life of quiet retirement no longer seemed worth it, when Thursday’s happiness and body were forfeit. Daisy dwelled like this for some time until finally deciding that some company and a warm meal might do her good. Wiping tears from her eyes and righting her clothes, she left the room and started downstairs, only to hear Karl’s booming voice from the front landing.

“Listen, Melo isn’t here! What about that is so hard to understand? I’d never let that bastard into my inn! Let alone my town!”

“Then this other… this Thursday,” said an even firmer, younger voice. “Surely you’ve seen a tall, pale woman here. They’ve both of them commited a terrible crime against the Serenti Syndicate. Your cooperation and silence would be appreciated.”

Daisy edged her way toward the stairwell, slowly dropping to her knees to peer through a gap in the railing to see six darkly clad men circling Karl’s favored table and himself as he sat in it, looking at them indignantly.

“Typical. He brings suffering down upon the heads of those around him, as he often does,” Karl said, is voice remorseful and soft. He seemed to know what Daisy did not, as the men surrounding him drew small blades.

“So you do know this man well? Your information is obviously not to be trusted, nor your cooperation to be expected.” the large, heavily armored man growled. Daisy could only see the back of his head, a long, stringy mane of greasy black hair draping down over dulled plate armor. He raised a thick arm and pointed out the door, grunting faintly as if in irritation.

“Two of you go to the tavern. Ask the wife, ask the children. Retrieve information any way you see fit.”

“Don’t you dare touch my girls!” Karl bellowed, standing up defiantly. A plated fist landed on his shoulder, attempting to push the large older man back into the seat, but he refused. There came a faint nod from the larger man, and one of the brigands at Karl’s back lunged, driving a dagger into his lower abdomen. Another joined in, stabbing at his chest twice, and then another, all of them piling onto the groaning innkeeper as they shadowed his collapsing form.

Hands drawn over her mouth, Daisy was struggling not to vomit or scream. She silently withdrew from the cold murder and crept back to the room, grabbing her belt of knives and buckling it on swiftly. That man had made Thursday do something horrible, and now everybody else was going to pay for it.

“Son of a bitch,” she hissed as she headed for the window of the room. As she climbed out, determined to help Joyce and her daughters across the road, she made herself a new goal: kill Melo the next time he showed his face.

Crouched in a grassy patch behind Karl’s inn, Daisy began to creep to the edge of the building. Kneeling behind a scraggly, withering bush, she watched the men storm from the inn and into neighboring buildings, torches in their hands. As screams of surprise and anger began to arise from around Haven, Daisy noticed far more horses meandering the streets than could possibly belong to the men that came into the inn. Something began to nag at her. This was far more than just a manhunt. These men were going to tear the town apart whether Melo was in it or not.

“Karl!” shrieked a voice from across the street. Daisy couldn’t tell if it was Joyce or one of the girls, but she knew they were all there, still cleaning from the end of the day. The odds, and that nagging piece of self-preservation inside of her told her that it would be best to flee into the woods and let the course of actions take place. Joyce and her daughters would be killed or raped into submission, and Haven would burn to the ground. Time spent as a brigand in Sunday’s ragtag, countryside burning army may have had something to contribute to her feeling that way, but more time spent away from them told her she simply couldn’t. As there came a sudden bout of male laughter from across the way, Daisy took a series of sharp, calming breaths as she rose from the bush and darted across the street, between abandoned mounts and over the small fence that surrounded the back of Karl and Joyce’s restaurant.

“Who the hell-”

Startled by the sudden voice and that she had been spotted, Daisy didn’t even notice the leather clad thug that had been standing at the back door, ready to pounce as the women attempted to escape. However, he seemed doubly surprised that a woman was suddenly before him, and thus was quick to act. Daisy was not, and she drew both of her daggers swiftly, planting them both into the man’s chest with a quick, pulsing jab, both weapons having been pulled free before he could collapse to the ground. Someone whimpered inside the building, close to the door, and Daisy pulled it open. One of Joyce’s daughters fell out, Daisy jumping back out of shock to allow the girl to fall onto her stomach. It would’ve been an act she’d apologize for, but the knife in the young woman’s back and the lack of movement told her it was too late.

She knew full-well that there were more pressing matters to attend to. The shouts of battle began to ring through the small town as men awoke and armed themselves to defend their families. There was a distant glow of fire on the trees that walled them in, the smell of smoke and burning flesh. Daisy however, couldn’t help but kneel at the downed girl before her, turning the frail thing onto her side to see a once pretty face contorted in fear and pain. A horrible way for a girl her age to go. A horrible way for anybody to go.

“Bastards…” Daisy growled, her hands clutching the hilts of her daggers in a white-knuckled embrace. “You sons of whores!”

With a shrill cry of battle rage, Daisy leapt into the restaurant’s kitchen, eager to kill once again.


**********************************


“Oh, my…”

Melo knew long before they had arrived at his secluded mansion that things would not be as they left them, but he did not expect the building to be in flames. The home he had made for himself and his “family” was engulfed in oranges and reds, the blackened pillars that may have been doorframes or even precious art were all that remained. It was this, coupled with the several bodies scattered before the towering blaze that set the old man into a fit of an emotion he hadn’t felt for some time: sadness.

The old warrior had dismounted from his horse, his cane-blade dropping to the dirt at the animal’s hooves as he started toward the flaming structure, his graying hair fluttering about his head, the once fine ponytail having been disheveled by their escape. Thursday also dismounted, starting over toward Melo, who had dropped to his knees perhaps in reverence of his old, opulent home. She stood at his side, the heat warming her face and exposed belly and legs as her cloak too was driven to wild whippings by the fire’s fury. She placed a consoling hand on the old man’s shoulder and squeezed before heading toward the bodies. Curiosity having gotten the better of her, she began rolling men onto their backs to see their faces. She recognized some, including the woman who had offered to wash her after her first match, but there was one body she did not find, one that should have been readily available.

“Aaron’s not here, Melo,” she yelled over the fire’s roar. The man looked at her, not bothering to hide his tears as he rose from the ground, brushing off his knees and starting toward her. His eyes, too, scanned the bodies, and though he wiped at them many times, he surely didn’t see anything different.

“To get a man inside my organization… it seems I underestimated that man for far too long. And here I thought I had the upper hand. Oh, the hubris I have shown.”

Thursday had not heard the man’s melancholy musings, as a glow somewhere else in the verdant forest told her that more than one fire had been set. The sudden, terrifying grip on her heart that came with thinking Daisy may be in trouble nearly made her drop to her knees.

“We have to get to Haven!” Thursday bellowed. Melo nodded at her and started in a short jog to his horse, quickly grabbing his cane from the ground and mounting the beast. Thursday started towards hers as well until a quick, sudden shock of fear shot up her spine. Melo’s look of surprise and befuddlement at something beyond her told her all she needed to know.

“I’m afraid, dear sister, that the time has come.”

Spinning around nonchalantly, Thursday turned to face her so-called brother. Ultima - or Tim as he preferred - was standing steadily at the head of the path that started toward Haven. He wore a frilled purple suit, dressed more like a dandy gentleman than any methodical killing machine. The dark crystals that served as his eyes reflected the fire that burned at their backs, giving him a more sinister expression than he normally exhibited.

“Thursday, who is this… man?” Melo asked, once again dropping from his horse. She turned to the old knight and held out a blood-stained hand.

“Stop! Stay back!” she screamed, turning hurriedly back to Tim. “Haven is going to be destroyed, Tim! I can’t let them kill all those people!”

The pale face of death twisted in laughter as he pulled the velvety tophat he wore from his head and tossed it into the treeline, once again focusing the fire-lit eyes upon her, instead of the man at her back.

“Please do not pretend that you care about those wretched townsfolk! Farmers and smiths, pah! You slain a thousand of their kind! No, I know your real concern,” Ultima spoke grinning at his intended target wickedly. “She’s gotten herself into quite a mess, indeed. If they do not take their turns with her when they finally get their hands on her, she will not die pretty. She’s doing rather well, though, your little pet. Revenge will be all that’s on their minds when they catch her, bloody, lustful revenge, I imagine.”

“Tim… please…”

Thursday looked pleadingly at that which was created simply to end her life, wondering if perhaps the brotherly nature he’d been sharing with her was more than a game, and true affection. Perhaps even a deviation from his intended purpose.

“No, Thursday, I find this a most fitting and epic end for a creature such as yourself, who has spent such a magnificent life ruining all that she touches. That is unless…”

“Unless what?” Thursday asked, unwilling to let her hopes rise in the face of such a cruel being.

“In time spent away from our father, I have realized something. My power, that which was gifted to me so by him, is far more than I need simply to kill you. Perhaps enough so that I could be King of somewhere. King of everywhere, even. Of course, even I do not exhibit such pride so as to blind intelligent thought. If I hadn’t enough alone to do these things… perhaps with you, my sister, who so has experience with the workings of human governments, I could achieve these things easier.”

“I can’t leave her to die, Ultima. I can’t!”

“In exchange for your life, in servitude to me, alone, this is the other price I would ask. Throw away this sad romance. Throw away this life as a brigand and thief and let us rape this world! Let us rule, conquer, burn all that we see, if we find it so fitting!”

The madness in the created man’s voice seemed to waver, though the fire literally reflected in his eyes made the idea seem all the more plausible. Though in the situation, she had no real choice. To crush the thing’s dreams would end in her and Melo’s death. To join him only ended in Melo’s and Daisy’s. In the end, what were their lives, exactly? The unfortunate circumstances behind her choosing left her feeling weak and queasy. Tears welled in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall.

“Okay, brother,” she said, mustering a faint, cold grin as she looked into his crystal eyes. “Let’s make this world our own.”

The brotherly Ultima had returned. In a plume of black flame he vanished and appeared not but a foot in front of Thursday, wrapping his arms around her to pull them into a strong hug. Though not even close to audible over the sound of roaring flame, there was the faintest crinkle of ripping cloth, and Tim suddenly went rigid in their hug, his own grip seeming to lessen as Thursday’s grew tighter.

“Now, sister… what have you done?” the thing asked, his arms dropping to their sides. Overcome suddenly with the weight of the dropping being, Thursday spun him, but kept him in her grasp. Melo, having watched the scene with shock, found himself staring at a most unusual thing. The female homunculus had ripped the other’s coat and shirt, her hand having slid beneath the cloth to press to his skin.

“Thursday… Thu-Thursday…” Ultima said, his voice soft and distant, “You… you… were far more clever than I… antici… pated.”

With a sudden, echoing sigh, Thursday released the man in her arms, dropping a shadow of the former being that was once there. Withered and dry, the husk of Ultima struggled to breathe, his gaunt, fear-tinged face looking up at what he once considered his primary objective. Her hand sizzled, the caustic blood from his back covering her palm. But his blood, much like Thursday’s, was not simply acidic, but was infused with the power of deconstructed magical artifacts and tools, a magic that allowed Dante to create life from nothing. The very magic that had been over-infused into his final creation in order to purge the lessers from the planet was now in Thursday, whose entire hand was aglow with a purplish haze that began slowly traveling up her arm and over her shoulder.

“Dear Gods… what’s happening?”

Thursday collapsed to her knees, her entire body vibrating. The cloak wrapped around her neck and draped over her body rose about her and began to glow, only to deconstruct before his very eyes, the cloth turning into white-hot embers that floated into the air and vanished into the night. Grabbing onto Ultima’s boney leg, Melo leapt back as the body did the same, flashing and disintegrating into nothingness. Concerned for the woman, and for his own well being, Melo started back toward her, even as her once milk-colored flesh began to be overcome by the glow, seeming almost transparent, but revealing nothing.

Her clothes flashed white and vanished from her body, a featureless being of arcane and darkness rose before him. Trembling with a fear he had not felt in his many years of life, he glanced into the voids that were once her eyes and saw a pure darkness. When her mouth opened, the sigh that came out seemed deafening. It assaulted his very soul, chilling him in a way he’d never experienced.

This creature of unfettered power looked at the cringing old man, and with a voice that echoed across his mind as though it were being yelled across a chasm stated, quite simply, “I’ve really done it now.”

Daisy was glad she had but one eye at the moment. At some point during the melee she incited upon entering Joyce’s restaurant to defend her and her daughters, some disarmed brigand had sent a bottle careening at her head. It shattered, and cut above her eyebrow, sending blood over her eye patch and down her cheek, but not into her eye. Still, she was in better shape than the men she’d attacked. Giving that they had the numbers to defeat her, careful timing and dirty tactics kept most of the men back so that she could occasionally inflict a wound upon the others. By now, she had taken her share of scrapes and hits. Beside the bottle, a sword nicked her right thigh, and a decent-sized splinter of wood had unfortunately found its way into her forearm as she was sent toppling into a table that collapsed under her weight.

“Come on! Sons of whores, come to your death!” she screamed, a fury burning inside of her that she had not felt in some time. This was different than the feeling of fighting for freedom or what Sunday believed was right. This was heroism. If she was going to die, she wanted it to be like this. Defending the weak, protecting the chaste.

“Come, men! This cunny can’t be more than a quick-thief! Show her what true rogues can do!”

Daisy let loose a faint growl as she leapt at the far under-wounded inciter. The quick movements set the men back, unexpecting of an attack from one who had spent most of the brawl on defense. Having closed the distance between herself and the rowdy bandit, she drove the dagger in her left hand into his chest and the right into his throat. With a raspy gurgle he lunged backwards, clutching at his wounds. It was unfortunate that during the attack, reinforcements had arrived. No sooner did Daisy think to turn and start at another of the invaders than a heavy, metal fist slammed into her head. She collapsed to the side, forced by the weight and not by any conscious thought to the left and onto the floor. Unconscious, she along with Joyce and her daughters were restrained and taken to the town’s square, along with others that had been captured or wounded during the attack. It was here, in the twilight of an approaching sunrise, that their interrogation would begin.


************************************************** *


Daisy awoke to the sounds of sobbing. Men, women, children, all of them uttering the cries that only those that saw their death approaching would ever utter. Her head ached, the cut where the bottle struck her burned, most likely because it was that side of her head that had been in the dirt. As she slowly squirmed upright, she found herself bound at the wrists, arms behind her back. Looking around, her vision slowly coming to her, she noticed many of the other townsfolk, people she’d never met or even seen before were very much in her same position. As she crept to her knees, she saw men picking people out from the crowd of captives and pull them aside to berate or beat them, occasionally asking a question pertinent to their task so as not to seem overtly sadistic.

“Please, take solace in that I do not find much pleasure in this! My job, I assure you, is only to find Melo and Thursday, and then I will leave your town in pieces!” exclaimed the overconfident bellow of the large, plate-armored man. His face was hairy, both beard and moustache a length and under groomed state that seemed almost unbefitting for civilized man. It obscured most of his face, though Daisy could see he smiled at what was certainly witty in his mind.

“Silly me! I meant peace!”

The other men laughed, some of them too far to experience the humor as they ransacked the homes and nearby shops for goods or money. A girl screamed in the distance, and someone in the crowd, a man, leapt to his feet.

“Sarah! You leave my girl alone!!” he screamed. The scream of a father. Arms tied, body bloodied, he charged away from the crowd toward a house further into town. There was the sudden twang of a bowstring and he collapsed face-first into the road, eliciting a chilled, despairing groan from the other residents. That was when it started to get ugly.

“You did this, you bitch,” someone to Daisy’s left growled. It was obviously intended to her, something that was made perfectly clear with the adding of: “and your white-skinned whore.”

“Yeah! We lived peacefully until you showed up, cyclops!”

Daisy, her heart beginning to race, looked around hastily. Maybe she could get to the trees. Depending on how well trained their archers were, some well-timed ducks and trick turns could be enough. As soon as she rose to her feet however, someone kicked them out from under her. Unfortunately, it was not a guard, but a fellow captive. Angrily they continued to kick at her, their heels striking her thigh and shoulders.

“What the hell is wrong with people?! I tried to help you!” Daisy screamed, starting to immaturely kick back. Others began to chime in.

“Hey! Hey! This one here knows the one you seek!”

“Yes, take this one! The brown hair! She sleeps with the beast who brought this upon our heads!”

Daisy angrily managed to fight away the kicking feet and rose to her own. Her back turned to the advancing brigands, she stared at the captives of Haven with tears of frustration and simmering rage in her eye.

“I had nothing to do with this! I have been trying to help! I tried to help, I did! Why are you do-”

Daisy was unable to finish her exasperated tirade two men at her back siezed hold of her shaggy brown hair and pulled her back, yanking her completely back off of her feet. Dragging through the parting crowd, Daisy was helpless even to kick back at those who dared to do the same at her. Just as she was being brought to the commander of the invading mercenaries, someone’s boot landed squarely with her nose, forcing a trickle of blood to speed down her lips.

“What’s wrong with you people?!” she shrieked, flailing her legs angrily as she was lifted back to her feet by her hair, this time by thick, plated fingers. The bearded commander looked coldly into her eye, his own filled with a sadistic gleam.

“It would seem your fellows have sold you out, pretty. Tell me what I need to know and perhaps I will spare the rest of the town,” he said, his voice a lustful growl. “Of course, it is far too late for you. You killed several of my men, which has earned much of my remaining ones a shot at that pretty body of yours.”

Daisy whimpered faintly in fear, her cheeks flushing red with embarassment and anger at the sound that she uttered uncontrollably. Someone in the still captive crowd laughed. A cruel thing, to be laughed at in such a state. Though she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she wished she’d simply fled.

“Do what you want to her and let us go!” someone in the crowd yelled. “We had nothing to do with these women!”

“I was trying to help you! God damn you people! God damn you!”

The commander laughed, a sick, wheezy thing that was undoubtedly the last thing many women had heard in their lives.

“Well, deary? Will you talk, or will we fuck and cut the information from you?”

Through a haze of tears, Daisy stood her ground, looking at the people who suddenly wanted her dead, when it seemed their own lives stood to gain. Humanity, she was realizing now more than ever, could be a terrible, unforgiving thing.

Filled with the ever present fear that death or worse were imminent, Daisy found it hard to focus her thoughts. The ridicule of people in her very same position only further served to muddle her thoughts. They blamed her for whatever the old man and Thursday may have done, simply because the other two were not there. Daisy knew nothing of where her lover was, and in that grave situation, it only served to make her feel even more hopeless. Thursday wasn’t there to save her this time.

“Clearly the townsfolk have abandoned you. Your friend has abandoned you. Simply tell us where we can find them and we will end it quick. I promise.”

“O-oh sure. Even though it wants a meal, I’ll trust the snake not to bite,” Daisy hissed, her quivering lips and tear-stained face betraying the confidence she sought to exhibit.

“We can do horrible things to you, girl. Ruin that pretty face, tear you apart. Make new holes for us to play with. Give me the answers I seek now or we will begin here, in front of these people who hate you so.”

“I don’t know where Thursday is, okay!? I haven’t seen her all day!” Daisy yelled. The people of Haven seemed disbelieving. Many of them actually booing at her, telling her to confess and do the right thing. But had she not? She was there, going to die because she tried to help them. She could lie, but it seemed it wouldn’t matter. Chances are they’d have their way with her before they went to the ruse. Luckily, they didn’t know how to kill her twice.

“You stupid girl! I’ve warned you, now I suppose it is time I make an example.”

The commander released her hair, allowing her a brief moment on the flats of her feet before suddenly grabbing her by the throat with his right hand. With his left, he does not hesitate, nor does he flinch as he grabs and tugs at her vest, ripping the tanned leather with ease and exposing her chest to all around. Her face reddened more from choking than embarassment, she fought against him, kicking angrily at his plated crotch and thighs but doing no damage.

“Perhaps this hole here is where we shall find purchase, hm?” he asked, plucking the eye patch Karl gave her from her head, and gasping suddenly at what he found, his hand even loosening upon her throat.

“Never seen a glass eye before?!” Daisy howled, unable to even settle on a single emotion anymore. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill all of you! I’ll kill all of you!”

A strange hush formed over the crowd of restrained townsfolk. As the sun began to rise, filtering in through a smoke-filled sky, the light caught her false eye. Nobody but Daisy knew that the black, crystalline orb was in fact a vessel for her body, where it would heal and be remade upon her death and reformed whole when summoned with the other part to the puzzle, a piece that lay wrapped in a sack neatly in their room in the inn. Nobody in Haven knew this, but it was still a strange sight to them all.

“What sort of strange crystal is this, girl?” the commander asked, peering into it curiously.

“It’s magic! It’ll shoot fire into your face if you don’t step away!” Daisy rasped, her voice quickly tiring from it all. Amazingly, the man actually stepped back. The fear of magic that only time spent as a brute and thief would’ve earned him. No doubt he’d attempted to harm some frail person in his past and found himself tossed about like a rag doll. The distance and the fear did no good, however. Daisy was most certainly still at the mercy of the commander and his pillaging brigade, not to mention those citizens of Haven that so willingly gave her away. His hand back on her throat, the other unsheathed a black dagger at his hip, pulling the thing so that it was level with her eyes.

“I do not expect fire to shoot out at me when I gouge this free. However, I do expect to be paid quite handsomely for it!”

Daisy began shaking her head frantically, trying to avoid the act, as it would most certainly kill her and alert the people in town somewhat to her strange history. She stopped this quickly, however, as the prospects of what would happen if she lived to see what the Commander truly had in store for her seemed to outweigh that of dying. Her remaining eye open, she stood there, bare-chested and red faced and watching death approach, a fire burning in her soul that would never die.

Time seemed to freeze as the knife-point grew closer to her face. She felt the tip of the blade press to her upper cheek, but that is where it ceased. Briefly, Daisy wondered if that was it. The eye had been removed and she was dead. That was not the case. The man before her seemed frozen, his mouth wide with shock. Looking into his eyes, he stared at something beyond her, and something still, beyond that, something that horrified him to the very core of his being. The people in the town began to gasp and whimper in fear. Both citizens and bandits alike seemed stuck with terror where they stood. Daisy however could not see what it was that had come, but she felt it at her back. It reminded her of being topless by a lake, the sun heating your back and neck.

“Unhand my woman,” stated a voice that seemed unbearably loud in her mind, as if she was screaming to herself. The metal grip on Daisy’s neck slackened instantly, and she dropped to her knees, coughing. Looking up at the commander, a man who once seemed an imposing mass of cruelty and dark metal, she saw tears were streaming uncontrollably down his hairy face. Daisy spun quickly, unhesitant and unafraid of the presence that was at her back. The feminine yet featureless mass of arcane power that stood before her had its head tilted in her direction, looking at her with eyes that did not exist. Where the people of Haven and the army formed of Shadow’s men and mercenaries under the employment of the organizer of the Sinful Cellar were held fast by terror, Daisy embraced a warm, violet hued leg, her entire body tingling as she came into contact with the magical being. It was an amazing feeling, an invigorating one. If only her arms were not bound, she’d have hugged it.

Daisy looked at the commander, his grief-stricken expression eliciting a smile from her. She licked blood from her lips as she turned her eye to the townsfolk of Haven who stood or knelt in the streets staring at the powerful being before them, their captors doing the same. Free from the terror of near-death, Daisy’s emotions felt focused. Her gaze sought out Joyce and her daughters, whose voices she recognized as among those sentencing her to her grisly fate. They took her in, and just as quickly as that took, sold her out.

“Did any of them hurt you?” the supreme creature asked her, the voice that echoed in her mind distinctly that of the woman she loved, coming at last to save her. Her heart hardened, Daisy’s gaze swept over all that was before her, taking it in with disdain No place was perfect. Especially not for them.

“They put the fear of rape in me. That man was to cut out my eye… these people used me as the lamb to their sacrifice. I ended up in this position because of them! I tried to help them survive and they wanted to see me get fucked to death in the streets!”

“What will you have me do?” it asked her, the voice sounding angry, the power in the being yearning to be unleashed. Daisy grinned.

“Get rid of them. Get rid of them all.”

It was, oddly enough, the soothing white noise of a steady downpour that roused Thursday from a slumber filled with blood and screams. Bundled beneath a dull green blanket, her grey eyes fluttered open slowly, taking in a plain wood roof above her head. Looking immediately toward the sound of the storm, Thursday was surprised to find that most of the wall of her current dwelling was missing. As if a bite had been torn from Karl’s Inn, the floor near what used to be a wall ended in splintering planks that let one view the downstairs tavern area, which had a pool of water forming at its bottom. Karl’s blood had been washed away, it seemed.

Looking around the room, Thursday merely took in the surroundings. The gaping wound in the building’s side let enough of the cloud-hindered light into the room to illuminate that she was entirely alone. There was no sign of life at all save for herself.

“Daisy?” she asked, her voice a hoarse rasp. Slowly and dizzily, she rose, drawing the blanket around her naked form and shuffling toward the empty space where her wall once was. Nearest to the gap without the floor feeling unsteady, she reached her white hands out to collect water in them and drink frantically. Having sated her thirst, she looked out into the parts of the town she could see from her vantage. Other buildings seemed to be in similar disrepair. Trying to recollect what happened merely frustrated her and gave her a headache. Everything seemed to stop when Ultima died quite literally at her hand.

With a low creak, the door to the room opened, and a familiar, shaggy-haired figure walked in, shaking rain from her curly brown locks. She had a sack slung over her shoulder, which she tossed to the ground lazily as she saw the figure standing before her.

“Oh, Thursday…” she managed to whimper happily as she crossed the room swiftly and took her into her arms. The grip was astonishingly powerful, almost desperate. Though still in some shock at the situation, the homunculus squeezed her back, truly happy to see her.

“What… happened here?”

“Gods, I thought you’d never wake up,” Daisy said, joyously wrong in her assumption. She continued holding her tight, long after Thursday had let her arms fall back to her sides.

“Daisy. What happened? I try to piece it together in my head and all I can get are… screams and flashes.”

Finally releasing her, the woman stepped back, her gaze to the floor as she seemed troubled finding the words.

“They’re gone.”

Narrowing her eyes, Thursday clenched her teeth, angered by the vague response.”

“Gone?! Tell me what happened, damn it!”

“They were going to kill me,” Daisy stated, her voice a fragile shake. “The townspeople… they- they offered me up like a token to pay off the men who attacked us!”

“And I saved the day, didn’t I?” Thursday asked bitterly. “What had I become? I remember feeling so overwhelmed with magic. I felt like I was going to explode.”

Daisy looked at Thursday with a tinge of fear on her face and in her glassy blue eye, her hands wringing before her nervously.

“You showed up looking as you are now, but you had no real form or shape. You looked almost like a… like a spell that had gained a life of its own. Purples and blues and swirling colors… it was amazing. You were strangely beautiful.”

“I got rid of them all, hm?” Thursday stated, grinning ruefully. “I can still hear your sweet voice, twisted with rage and fear.”

Blushing with what appeared to be shame, Daisy looked at the gap in the building, focusing on the falling rain. With a gentle touch, Thursday’s right hand reached up to caress her soft cheek.

“It broke my cold heart, my love. I do not regret anything I have done to keep you safe.”

Blinking rapidly, Daisy gave a faint smile as she bit at her lower lip, unable to keep a hand from wiping at her visible eye to hide the tears.

“However, I’m afraid I’ve broken my promise to you.”

Laughing softly, Daisy simply looked at the tall homunculus with a longing gaze, realizing only at that moment what she truly had in Thursday, and also the potential within her. To try and force her to settle down now would be unfair to them both. Being unaware that both she and her lover were impervious to the ravages of time, she began to feel it was foolish to want to spend her youth in one spot. Better to help Thursday with her journey than to serve food the rest of her days. She knew she was still a rogue at heart. The thought of the types of bounty they could salvage from the now emptied Haven and on their journey would most likely leave them with enough to live fat and happy when they finally did decide to settle down. If they were alive.

“It was a stupid thing to try and make you do,” Daisy said softly in reply, stepping over to the bed and sitting upon it with a sigh. “I think it’s time for us to move on.”

Thursday turned, watching the storm outside of the partially demolished building. Haven was lost, nothing left that could be done for it now. Most likely due to the sudden and untraceable disappearance of everybody in the town, it’d be regarded as haunted or cursed. Perhaps she’d created a future legend. She found it best to try and look on the brighter side of the situation, rather than dwelling on the lives lost.

“I agree. Where’s the big stone?”

“Under the bed. Oh, here…”

Daisy grabbed the sack she had brought in with her, opening it swiftly to pull out a series of black garments from inside.

“I found these… kind of tore ‘em up to make ‘em fit your style.”

“I wasn’t aware what I wore was called a style, but thank you,” Thursday said, grabbing the clothes from the bed. The soft leather pants were nice. Nicer than those she’d had previously, and cut to end part-way down her thighs, even if the cut was a little ugly. The top, a fine leather vest, was a bit more clothing than she was used to wearing, but fit well when tied at her breastbone, the loose strings tucked inside.

“There’s shoes, too… no hooks though.”

Smiling, Thursday grabbed the short boots and slid them on, nodding her head as she wriggled her toes inside of them.

“Well padded. You’ve done really good, Daisy,” she said appreciatively, grabbing the last, and admittedly most looked forward to piece of the cloth pile.

“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s like your old one, but it ties at the neck, so…”

“I’ll miss my bat pin,” the homunculus said as she slid the cloak over her broad shoulders and tied it at her collarbone.

Her eye filled with a sort of sadness, Daisy looked at her admiringly; feeling guilty that she was almost happy when so much horror had been dealt to the town in which they dwelled.

“You’re amazing, Thursday. You saved my life,” she nearly whispered, her gaze heading toward the floor. With a soft sigh, her partner stepped forward, cradling the shaggy brown head in her hands against her chest. For a long while, they sat in that silence, a mutual comfort shared between them in the presence of one another.

“It’s the least I could do,” Thursday told her, thinking hard about the torture she had inflicted upon her in a previous life. A cruelty she hadn’t since exhibited on any other person, and one she had yet to explain to her still.

“While you were unconscious still… some things happened,” Daisy spoke softly, sounding almost afraid. “Men came to the town looking for you. They saw it empty and left without much of a search, thankfully, but they got Melo by his house…”

“That’s… hm. A problem. Did you see where they went?”

“I followed the trail after they had long since left. Took me to what looked like a fort. Archers and little buildings and everything.”

“Probably bought it from some noble,” Thursday assumed, grinding her teeth faintly as she thought about the situation. “I am not normally one for blatant heroics, but I feel I should get him out of there. After everything we’ve been through together, it’s only fair.”

“Wasn’t it his fault those people came?” Daisy asked, her tone turning angry.

“Somewhat. But you know who’s fault it really is? The man who sent the brigands, as well as the man who sold this town - and Melo - out.”

“Don’t you have ‘Tim’ to worry about, as well?”

Thursday’s lips curled into a cruel smile as she simply ran her hands through Daisy’s hair.

“Ultima went down rather quietly. I ’m assuming that our path to find my fa- creator will be relatively clearer now. But more importantly, my love. Tell me about this fort…”

“Four archers, hm?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t see inside, so there may’ve been more guards. There seemed to be a bell they could ring for an alarm, probably if they see anybody coming. That was near the main gate.”

Thursday grumbled. That’d make things a little more complicated.

“How much distance between the treeline and the ramparts?”

“Maybe… ten feet? Fifteen? Not a lot. It was not designed to be defended on all sides, I don’t think. Maybe just there for resupply or prisoner storage. The road leading to the main gate branches off a rather obvious trail. It probably leads to the capital or something.”

“That’s fine. I hope he appreciates what I’m about to do here. Won’t be as easy as magicking everybody away,” Thursday said with a grumble. Standing at the edge of the torn away floor, she watched as the tumultuous sky flashed and threatened, but seemed to be all dried up, the rain having stopped suddenly. Not being soaking wet would make things at least a bit more pleasant.

“What we’re about to do. I want to help,” Daisy said, her expression resolute.

“Absolutely not. No,” Thursday growled, looking at her sternly. “You’ve come far too close to death in the past few days, I’m not risking losing you.”

“Oh, and I can risk losing you?! That’s not fair! You aren’t invincible! What if you die, what will I do then?”

“The same thing you’d do if I was here. Sack this town for any valuables you can find and leave. I am sure you can find somewhere nice to settle in if-”

A loud, sudden crack filled the room as Daisy’s right hand struck Thursday’s cheek. Blinking in surprise, the homunculus simply stared back at the woman, letting the blow sink in.

“You hit me,” Thursday hissed, her upper lip curling. Daisy shrank away, cringing at the thought of repercussion.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted, suddenly seeming so afraid of the person she had seemed so excited to see not but minutes before. With a great sigh, Thursday shook her head, starting toward the door of their partially demolished room. As she opened it, she looked back at Daisy, her expression cold.

“Hope I do make it back, girl. I shudder to think of the guilt you might feel if that was the last thing you did to me.”

“Thursday, wait…”

She didn’t. Outside of the room, she hurried down the stairs and across the rain soaked dining room out to the streets. Haven seemed eerily tranquil. As the world sank into darkness, the town felt truly empty. There was not a person or animal in the entire area save for her and Daisy, who she could feel watching her from their room’s great hole. She didn’t look back. Shrouded in her dark cloak, she started off into the woods, going in the direction she was told would lead to the wooded rear of the fort Melo had been taken to.

Thursday stalked quietly through the verdant forest that surrounded Haven, noting the lack of wildlife that would normally be scurrying or prowling about. No doubt they were scared from the area, animals being more in tune with things such as the magical annihilation of an entire town’s denizens. Even as she had the time to reflect on what she had done, she felt no remorse. In her eyes, what she did was justified. Humans in general were such horrible creatures to one another, as clearly evidenced in how they treated Daisy. Eradicating Haven, Thursday believed, was no great tragedy.

It wasn’t long before the human-made glow of contained fires began to shine through the trees, the orange hues giving the recently emptied patch of nature a fittingly abnormal glow. The nearer she got to the treeline, the more careful and quiet she became, stalking toward the edge warily. The walls were in sight, and so, too were the archers posted about the ramparts. Only two archers were up, most likely a skeleton crew left simply for the sake of some security. With Melo clearly in their captivity and Thursday gone in their eyes, what threat was left for them other than the occasional group of highwaymen and foolhardy thieves?

The bowman closest to her side of the fort had turned toward the inside, fumbling with his weapon as he tested the string. Seeing this, Thursday took the opportunity to clear the distance, running quickly to the massive, pointed logs that composed the wall and crouching in the darkness they provided. There was no rustling above. No ringing of bells or cries for help. A cold trickle crept along her forearms and hands as the metal that composed her claws formed over her skin, the knife-like tips gleaming menacingly in the light of the partially shrouded moon.

Facing the wall, she pressed her fingertips into the wood, pushing them into the wall deep enough to maintain her body’s weight before starting upward. She moved one hand at a time, and quietly, making sure to dig and press the claws into the rain softened wood with gentle pressure. Nearing the top, she was glad that her strength was magically imbued and did not match her form, or she’d have never been able to accomplish what she just had.

Dangling by her left claw, she opened her right, a slender metal spike forming in her palm that she gripped tightly. Grinning faintly at her own deviousness, she rapped the thing upon the wood near the top. A surprised grunt followed, and a bearded face peered over the edge, eyes widening in shock before the spike was thrown upward into the bowman’s forehead, shattering skull and piercing brain. Dead instantly, the body slumped to the ramparts. Hearing no sound of alert or surprise, Thursday knew the other archer hadn’t noticed, and quickly pulled herself up and onto the wood.

Looking immediately into the fort, she took in all it held. Three buildings in a faint crescent shape toward the exit all seemed to stare at a single, bloodstained stake in the middle of the fort, the dirt around it even brown with people’s fluids. Thursday noticed, however, that the fort was still, seeming almost uninhabited if not for the dousing of candle light coming from a second story room in the largest building.

Across the way, the remaining archer was steadily at his post, looking keenly into the forest on the other side to spot intruders. Thursday knelt and picked up the slain bowman’s weapon and an arrow from his quiver, nocking it and taking aim. She was never big on archery, she believed there was something deeper to seeing a man’s face and eyes when you killed him. However, she knew how to use a bow, and at the range she had, she didn’t need to know how to use it too well. With a faint whistle, the arrow streamed across the fort, and as silently as it fled her bow, it struck her intended target in the back and subsequently the heart. As his body collapsed to the ramparts, she tossed the bow onto the corpse beside her and crept along the ladder leading downward.

On the ground, she tried to make out what every building was. The largest, clearly, was to be Shadow’s dwelling. But it was flanked on both sides by smaller structures, both of which were composed of cemented stone with wooden roofs. Neither had real windows, only mere slits in the walls, so she’d have to be adventurous to figure out what they were.

She started with the one to her left, stepping carefully as she neared the front wall. At the door, she pressed her ear against the wood, listening for a sound, any sound, and got snoring. With a mischievous grin, she opened the door slowly, greeted immediately by the figure of a rotund man leaning against the wall, fast asleep. Judging by the sword he had laying across his waist, and the ring of keys at his hip, he was assigned to guard the cells that lined the little building’s interior . He was doing marvelously, as well. She grabbed his sword and unhesitant, drove the blade into the man’s chest swiftly. He did not awaken, but merely exhaled a slow, gurgling breath, and went still. Briefly, Thursday found herself wondering if, when killed in your sleep, you simply kept dreaming. She pushed the romantic idea aside and stepped further in, running a black set of sharpened claws against the iron bars of every cell. In the cubicle that was in the middle sat a crumpled heap of bloodied silks and gray hair.

“Damnation,” she hissed, wrenching the keyring from the slain guard’s belt and hurrying to the door. Rushing, she fumbled with the keys, trying a few that did not fit before tossing them aside in frustration. In a sudden flash of blue, her hands were normal. She clutched the cold metal of the door’s lock and infused it with her own magical essence, melting the entire middle section of the door away almost instantly. Lightheaded, she blinked and shook her eyes. It was a power she had not quite become accustomed to using, and left her feeling strangely off balance.

“Melo?”

Stepping swiftly into the cell, she knelt by the older gentleman and turned him onto his back, her eyes shutting in quiet disappointment. A painful wound had been dealt to his lower abdomen. Not one he’d die from immediately, but it looked as though it had been inflicted most likely a day or two after his capture. The man looked pale, shivering in a fitful, and restless sleep.

“It’s Thursday! Hey!” she yelled in a whisper, shaking him forcefully. The elder gentleman’s eyes fluttered open, regarding the homunculus with a gaze of familiarity.

“I’m here to break you out, old man,” she told him reassuringly, helping him to sit up. He groaned as he did, seemingly barely able to hold his own head up to address her.

“I see… you’ve gotten better then?” he asked. Confused, Thursday looked at him blankly until it snapped to her.

“Oh, yes… that. Yeah, I’m better.”

Melo smiled faintly and his head bobbed as he attempted to look at her steadily.

“Your woman is safe now, yes?”

“Uh huh.”

“And… the town?”

Thursday looked down at the far gone old warrior as he shivered with obvious infection, and nodded her head slowly.

“Haven is safe now, Melo. I’m sorry this had to happen. I should’ve been there.”

With a groan of pain and a growl of rage, Melo seemed faintly energized, a bit of life having returned to his eyes as he looked up at Thursday.

“Don’t blame yourself. It is the traitor and the… sniveling coward who would lock me up, wound me, and watch me die like an animal! He refused to face me in combat. Refused to settle our feud once and for all.”

“Looks like he is,” Thursday added coldly, unable to resist grinding her teeth. Melo, however, did not seem offended, and actually gave a ghost of a smile at the comment.

“So he has,” he lamented, “I need a favor.”

Nodding, Thursday rose and stepped back slightly.

“You may think I am going to let you die now, Melo, but I can’t. Not when your revenge is so close to being realized.”

A pained chuckled escaped the prone man as she pressed himself against the wall to stay upright.

“Will I live to hear his anguished cries?”

Grinning maliciously, Thursday merely started toward the door. He had no idea.

Creeping through the silent fort, Thursday considered her life up to the point at which she’d arrived. Everybody she’d ever associated with has ended up dead. Either by her hands or by the hands of others, no soul has survived being drawn into her world. Daisy herself had even died twice in her company. What was it that had been created in her, she wondered, that made her destroy everything she came into contact with? Even an entire town, a chance - perhaps her final one - for peace in her tumultuous life, was annihilated completely. The emptied village would go on to be gutted by highwaymen and left a shell, uninhabitable simply for fear fear of the unknown fate that befell the previous citizens. Like a ghost, she disappeared from an Effaria that was burning to the ground, and she’d do the same here this night. But not until after one more glorious atrocity.

The building on the opposite side of the fort from Melo’s prison was slightly larger and dark inside. As she neared the gaps in the cement and stone that functioned as windows, she heard the faint sound of snoring. Naturally, any fort would have lodging for its soldiers, however this place was no longer a traditional fort. Asleep in the room were but two men, rogues and thugs paid to watch the back of a man who could afford to keep a mercenary from being paid higher to stab him in the back. Thursday was pleased to see that Aaron was one of them. She was glad to see him sleeping happily while the man he betrayed was dying of infection not but yards away. It was time for a grisly discussion with the wretch.

She slipped in silently through the window, crouching in the shadow of the wall as she was surrounded by the sound of snores and shuffling, sleeping bodies. Standing tall, she briefly considered how she’d go about dispatching the two men without waking the rest of the fort. Thursday always did appreciate a noisy, violent death. One would have to be specially reserved for Aaron.

Clawed hands glistened in the obscured moonlight as she crept before the other, nameless man. He’d remain so. With the gentle caress of a mother, she slowly raised her clawed hands and held them steady above him, her cold metal fingers writhing. Silently she struck, her face devoid of feeling as she clutched tightly at his throat. His eyes shot open, and though his reddening face seemed desperate to call for help, he was unable to. He thrashed what little he could beneath her fatal grip as she pressed him ruthlessly to the oddly downy bed he had been given. His panicked eyes witnessed a cruel grin before the flesh beneath her claws gave way and his neck snapped. There was a rustling behind her and she quickly spun, releasing the corpse as she saw Aaron sit up and rise from his bed in shock.

“Th-Thurs-”

Knowing that an alarm call was more than imminent, she swung her right fist at his head swiftly, the metal knuckles striking his temple and sending him crumpling to the ground once more. Thursday sighed in relief. The plan could’ve almost been ruined.

“Back to sleep,” she told his unconscious form, “I’m not done with you yet…”


************************************************


Outside, Aaron was now tied by his wrists to the massive log in the middle of the fort, a strip of cloth from his sheets tied around his mouth. He was still out, and now with his so-called guards out of commission, she was free to finish her task. She made her way to the main structure, not hesitating to merely stroll in the front door, which was not locked. Shadow had believed far too strongly that his plan would succeed. With Melo safely tucked away and dying in a cell, who would bother him now? Surely nobody who could best his archers or sleeping buffoons. Thursday hated being underestimated.

The larger building’s interior was far nicer than the prison or troop lodgings. While the first room was merely housed a desk on a large ruge, the walls were adorned with mounted weaponry and portraits of unknown men and women. Shelves lining the walls were filled with books and covered in small boxes and other assorted decorations. What used to most likely be an officer’s dwelling had been turned into a nice little home. However, before she could go upstairs for Shadow, she needed to make sure no surprises were waiting in the rooms before her. To the right of the desk was a shut door, the faint glow of candle light dancing along the cracks.

Thursday listened closely, and upon hearing nothing, ventured to open the door. The door opened before her claws could find a grip on the handle, and before her stood a squat, slightly rotund woman as she stared blearily into the darkness. Quickly, the homunculus pressed a hand to the woman’s mouth and shoved her back into the room, keeping the claw pressed tightly to her lips as she pulled the door shut behind them. The woman’s candle was dropped, the flame going out in silence.

“Make a sound and I’ll rip out your guts,” Thursday hissed, staring at the terrified woman intently. “You answer my questions and that is all. Who are you?”

Reluctantly, Thursday pulled her hand away, thankfully greeted by the soft, whimpering coos of a woman frozen with fear.

“I-I’m the children’s caretaker. I f-f-feed and- and I-”

“Silent. What children? He has other children?”

Trying to maintain her composure and not break down in tears, the woman shook and blubbered before she spoke, struggling to keep her voice down lest she be disemboweled.

“He… gets orphans… kids who volunteer to fight for him. Th-they are in the other room. Please… d-don’t hurt the-”

Coldly, Thursday gave an effortless and quick jab to the woman’s throat. Though it was not able to be seen, she could hear the blood spilling. She grabbed the woman before she fell, setting her down gently on the floor to allow her last moments of life to be a little quieter, and subsequently easier for herself. It was a shame the children were volunteers. She may have been able to consider letting them live, otherwise.

Marcus Shadow did not find the feeling of wet ground at his bottom appealing in the slightest. More alarmingly, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up in such a position to begin with. As the forced sleep faded from his vision, he became acutely aware of being outside of his comfortable bed. He was seated in the middle of his own fort, arms tied securely at his back around the massive stake in the yard facing toward his own house. His head ached, and though he was confused, he was not frightened.

“Show yourself,” he proclaimed, glancing about the emptied fort. There was a significant lack of life, he noticed. Not just a lack of life, but the dreadful sense of death. There came a rustling about the barracks, and from them approached an easily distinguishable feature, even with his old eyes.

“Oh, so you seem to have survived. How fortuitous,” he grumbled. His shoulder slumping faintly. He glanced a ball in her hands, something she clasped tightly in her hand. A rock, perhaps, to bash in his head? When she tossed it gently underhand, the thing touched ground a couple feet away and rolled, stopping conveniently at his feet. Aaron’s lifeless eyes stared back, his mouth agape in shock or pain. It was hard to tell now. Thursday laughed as she strolled closer. Cackling like a banshee.

“I was worried it would land face-down,” she stated between chuckles. Stopping before him, she looked him up and down, his black silks covered in dirt and dust from his being dragged outside.

“Well, here we are. I suppose your master is dead?”

Thursday raised an eyebrow at the man, kneeling before him. She wasn’t worried about him kicking. He clearly wasn’t the type to thrash.

“He wasn’t my master. Just an employer. I had a nice little thing going here. I got to kill to a cheering crowd and get paid for it. You ruined that. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“You have no soul,” Shadow told her, smiling faintly to himself.

“That’s a little harsh,” Thursday replied, his growing smile more than disarming.

“You have no soul. I’ve never…”

His eyes drifted about her body, the gaze scientific more than appreciative.

“Varidante,” he exclaimed, his eyes widening. “You aren’t human! Rather, you are no longer human!”

Thursday’s teeth clenched at the mention of the name. She sent a swift punch to the man’s face and stood back, staring down at him darkly.

“How do you know that name?”

“How does any necromancer not? Varidante, or I suppose he made you call him Dante, was a master. A true master. Clearly,” Shadow said, nodding at her.

“Necromancy? You’d best tell me what you’re talking about before I rip the knowledge from your flesh!”

Would he finally be a lead to finding Dante? As much as she hated the feeling of suddenly being out of control of the situation, it was a lure she had to bite. Any information would be better than none.

“Ohoho. Did he send you for me? But why? I thought him long dead… either way, I have done him no ill! Why are you here? Why did you work for that Melo, pet?”

“Pet? Pet?!”

Thursday growled angrily as she grabbed Aaron’s dismembered head and threw it at the man tied before her, the lifeless skull striking him on the forehead. He reeled, shaking his head to avoid sinking back into darkness.

“You aren’t… you aren’t under his control? He made a sentient golem?!”

“I am not a golem you old fool! I have flesh! I have thoughts! What do you know about my fa- Dante!”

Marcus Shadow smiled, the strange, dreamy smile of a madman.

“Not a golem you say? Oh, oh yes… it all makes sense. Reanimation…”

“Reanimation?! I am a homunculus! I was created,” Thursday hissed in frustration, unable to ignore how unusual it felt to say that aloud.

“You know nothing, girl. No man can do such a thing. Not even him. Created you were, perhaps, but not simply with dark magic alone, no… you were somebody once.”

Thursday felt her grip on the situation slipping. Shadow appeared to be a master manipulator, but so was she, and there was no doubt in his words. He could seemingly sense this, as he lowered his head, his dark, greasy locks of hair falling into his vision.

“To create a minion of your quality… my, my, my… he was very good. Do you suppose you have flowing blood? A beating heart? I doubt that you do.”

Blankly, she stared back, her face a portrait of confusion.

“A murderous being such as yourself. He most likely pulled you from the gallows. Perhaps you had been drawn and quartered, hence your missing bellybutton. I do not know his methods. What I do know, however, is that I, too am a master of necromancy…”

His tone of voice began to rise with confidence. Was he merely biding time to conjure up some sort of escape? Thursday tensed, ready to attack or defend herself if something were to happen.

“And as a master, I know many ways to control and manipulate the dead.”

“That’s it, old man,” Thursday asked, slowly relaxing. “Your rambling was almost enough to throw me completely off. But alas, it would seem your time has come.”

“Think of my words as meaningless. For they truly will have been if this does not work,” he stated, beginning to mutter something beneath his breath.

“What?!”

Thursday made a step toward him but froze, finding herself feeling oddly sluggish. Shadow begin to chitter gleefully despite his constant stream of indecipherable nonsense. It began to get louder, the whispers echoing ceaselessly in her mind. Thursday’s left leg began to go numb, her left arm twitched.

“It’s true…” Thursday whispered, her face contorting in disbelief.

Aaron’s discarded head began to shake, the jaw snapping open and shut repeatedly, forcing the thing to putter about the dirt. The lifeless eyes met her own, and she realized that it was laughing. Silently, the head was laughing at her. Gripped with a sudden rage at this, she lunged at Shadow, sending a swift kick to his throat. The chanting ended, and Aaron’s head went still once more.

“You son of a bitch,” Thursday hissed. She felt an icy finger caress her cheek and reached upward, wiping away what appeared to be her own caustic arcane blood.

“No… tears…” Shadow choked, struggling for breath. Every last bit he got, however, was dedicated to raspy chuckles of academic joy and vindication. He was witnessing a miracle to his life’s devoted work. Thursday, to him, was a pinnacle of achievement. One he could never have hoped to reach.

“So you’re a necromancer. But I know what else you are, Shadow. A father,” Thursday said, wiping the bloody streak from her cheek and regaining her composure. His eyes went wide and he shook his head, still unable to formally speak as he struggled still for breath.

Stepping over to the house, Thursday dug clawed fingers into the siding until she produced a sizable chunk of the wood, which she gripped menacingly in her hands as she stared back at him.

“I should thank you for sticking your sons and bastard orphans in a room without windows. I barricaded the door, so now they have nowhere to go except ash.”

She was glad to see fear in his eyes. The hatred and rage of a man unable to defend those he swore to. As she infused the wood with energy and tossed it against the side of the building, she smiled, watching as a small blue flame crawled along the side. It caught the wood, and a true fire began.

Stepping back toward the man, she knelt at his side, watching the flames grow and slowly engulf the house. True tears fell down his cheeks as he still gasped for air through a swollen throat. The smoke and emotion making twice as difficult.

“Yes, yes. It’s horrible,” Thursday said smugly. “The fire’s loud, but maybe while we watch it together, we’ll be able to hear them scream.”

Marcus Shadow tried to yell, but could not, and watched in painful silence as his home, his children, and his life burned to the ground.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Thursday asked, her eyes squinted tight at the gusts of heat that billowed at them from the flame-engulfed structure. The roar of the blaze was not too great by the time the children began their final, agonizing minutes of life. A cacophony of young screams echoed from the fire, as if plucked from the depths of the abyss. Despite this glorious moment of cruelty, Thursday was not enjoying herself. Shadow had gotten inside of her mind. He’d planted seeds of confusion there. More questions she’d have to ask Dante when she finally and inevitably caught him. Too much was at stake now to let the idea be pushed aside. Already Thursday felt as though she were going to lose her mind at the sheer weight of the information she was told. Was she somebody else once before? A normal human woman forced back to life for the sake of doing one’s bidding was not an idea she enjoyed for herself. Even less so than being created from scratch.

“What a fitting end for me, then,” Marcus Shadow croaked, his face devoid of emotion. His eyes, glassy and dark, watched the fire and his tormentor with near indifference. A deep rage, hidden simply because of its known futility, burned in his dark glare.

“Most of my life was spent tormenting others. Wielding the corpses of friend and foe alike to slay my equals and my betters. For what? To be ended by a puppet. A ghost.”

“That’s enough out of you,” Thursday hissed. She turned back to him and dove like a hawk, her blood-stained hands wrapping around the man’s thin neck. She squeezed tight with all her fingers, Shadow’s face instantly turning a darkening shade of red. Coldly she stared back at him, a grin crossing her face.

“I’ll watch the light fade from your eyes, Marcus.”

Something gave way beneath her hands, and a final wet choke escaped the man before he slumped over, quite dead. She wanted to defile the corpse. Tear him apart and throw him away, but the fire, and quickly approaching sunrise told her she needed to leave before the curious and soldiers made their way there. Quickly, she rose and made her way back to the cell where Melo was being kept. He lay on the floor, dirty, bloodied, and not breathing. There was, however, the ghost of a grin on his face. He had died the moment after Thursday had left him, the thought of his enemy suffering to the end being enough to send him off in peace.

“Hello there! Pale one!”

The strange voice from outside made her duck immediately to the shadows. Who could have seen her that she wouldn’t have found first?

“It is very hot over here, please untie me!”

Confused, Thursday stood up and stepped back outside, looking suspiciously at Marcus Shadow’s body. Something certainly did not feel right. When the head rose up, supported on a neck that should’ve been unable to, she was angry.

“What shit is this now?” she grumbled, walking carefully over to the stake. Marcus Shadow’s head turned to her, but it was not his gaze that stared back. He was gone. Empty eyes looked back at her, eyes much like her own. Those of the dead. The mouth hung open, but full sentences came forth, spoken as if by an eloquent - if not slight - man.

“This surely must be surprising to you, but alas, I haven’t the time to explain. I need you to untie me, please.”

Thursday groaned and rolled her eyes at the verbose corpse, slowly shaking her head.

“No. No, I’m not untying you until you tell me what’s going on here. Right fucking now.”

“This body was promised to me in exchange for power. The body has now been forfeited and my exchange with Marcus Shadow is complete. Do untie me. I have tasks to accomplish here, and if you don’t, you shall incur the wrath of of a force you cannot begin to comprehend or defeat. Besides this, undead and demons are practically siblings. You should be doing it out of mere kindness.”

“I’m already tired of knowing this about myself, but thank you for confirming,” she said wearily, her right hand forming into a claw and cutting the ropes free.

“You’re quite welcome,” said the voice, Marcus Shadow’s body rising and wobbling as it stood. “Please excuse me, it’s been some time since I have been in one of these.”

“Oh, no, take your time.”

As the thing righted itself, the thing started walking away from the fire and toward the gate, ignoring Thursday completely until it stopped not far from the fort’s massive front gates.

“Tell me, do you feel out of place among the humans?”

She narrowed her eyes at the thing before her; a mockery of life even moreso than she. What harm would there be in answering?

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Do you think they know what I am?”

“Oh no. You certainly do not look like any healthy human being, but your creator put great pains into making you as presentable as possible. When I am here, I find myself lonely sometimes, myself.”

“A lonely demon, is it? Well, my night keeps getting better. I’ve already had to deal with another ‘sibling’ and I am not interested in dealing with more. Friendly or otherwise.”

“Nor would I want your company. You are crass, unpleasant, and cruel, however, for freeing me I was going to give you some advice,” the disembodied voice said through Shadow’s drooping, dead mouth. The sight itself would be enough to send most normal men and women running without pause, but Thursday wasn’t jarred. She felt almost as though it were familiar. All of it.

“Let’s hear it then,” Thursday said, as she stretched impatiently, wanting to get away from the massive fire that would surely be drawing attention in the morning light.

“Awareness of yourself will bring awareness of others, yes? Most undead are not conscious of themselves, however those that are can seek their bretheren out. Most of us can only feel a kinship with one another, we dark creatures. Though I have known a succubus or two that found themselves more comfortable with humans. I cannot fathom why, but…”

“Right. So be alone forever, then? Thank you kindly, corpse of Marcus Shadow.”

“You may call me Narak,” the voice corrected, one of shadow’s paling hands waving courteously. “But now I shall go. I have tasks to accomplish, as I said.”

The body walked at the gates of the fort, the massive logs groaning once he neared. It slid open before him as if pushed by massive, invisible hands, and slammed shut at his rear, the gust causing the flames to dance playfully. Thursday made her way back up the steps to the ramparts and jumped over where she’d first come in, leaving the fort, and ending finally her tale in Haven. As she reflected on her journeys upon Corone on her way back to Haven, it was like recalling a nightmare. She shuddered to think of what horrors would greet her the closer she got to finding Dante.

When the town had come back into view beyond the still verdant forest, Thursday was almost happy to have arrived. It meant she could finally leave. The sun was rising on the emptied houses and shops, illuminating the streets devoid of life. At the torn open corner of the old inn, Thursday could see a shape sitting at the splintered edge, staring sullenly at the town and surrounding woods. Thursday whistled, and Daisy’s head snapped toward in her direction. She was clearly smiling, and recalling the advice of Narak, Thursday began to smile too.

Dirty Money

Due to the fact that this thread’s been waiting a long time, and I’ve taken too long already I will be limiting the depth of my judgment. This does not mean, however, that I’m not reading any more or less thoroughly than any other thread. If you require further assistance with understanding what you did wrong or right I am always just a PM or IM away and would be more than happy to help.

STORY (22/30)

~ Continuity ~ 8

You did very well to explain the back story, but I still felt like I was missing something small and something that I couldn’t put a finger on. Perhaps it was something more involving the story that you’ve built with Thursday, or the quests that came before this. It was spot on otherwise though.

~ Setting ~ 7

The setting was very well done, but seemed to be lost a little here and there in the ‘second half’ (when you started writing again).

~ Pacing ~ 7

Spot on, other than towards the end, which seemed a little rushed and out of place.


CHARACTER (24/30)

~ Dialogue ~ 7

Felt strangely off at times, but was well done. There was so much of it that a lot of it was deeply helpful in understanding the persona of both Thursday and Daisy.

~ Action~ 8

~ Persona ~ 9

Fucking brilliant, I loved it, so much.


WRITING STYLE (26/30)

~ Technique ~ 8

~ Mechanics ~ 9

Only very few mistakes, I think I saw 4-5 total.

~ Clarity ~ 9


WILD CARD!!! 9

TOTAL

(81/100)


GAINS/REWARDS!

Thursday gains 4750 exp and 400 gold

This thread will also be put up for consideration for a JC!

Exp and gp added!