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scgdoeswhat · 6 years

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20 Years Later

Prompt: Round 43 of #ChoicesCreates: 20 Years Later, hosted by @dopecatcollins and @theroyalwreck.

Summary: Jake reflects on his own life and his decisions that have brought him to this point, 20 years after escaping La Huerta. (Jake x F!MC)

Rating: PG-13 (Primarily swearing)

Words: 1,613

Author’s Notes: This turned out to be more of a character study of Jake and it completely deviated from the original outline I had planned. This is also my first fic for Endless Summer (and Choices, in general) so I hope I did the characters justice. No Beta used. Jake and co. belong to Pixelberry, while OCs, some backstory, and plot belong to me. Thanks for reading and I’d love to hear your feedback!

Jake McKenzie walked out of his beachfront shack and towards his hammock, beer in hand, ready to relax and do absolutely nothing on his day off. It had been 20 years since the asinine and unexplainable events of La Huerta. Time had slowly helped him cope with his emotional scars, though deep down, he knew it was more the whiskey and beer that helped numb everything so he could live.

“Live?” He scoffed. “Fuck that, more like barely survive,” he said to himself while taking a swig of the bottle of beer.

And survive he had. It’s what he was good at. In those years on the run prior to that fateful charter to La Huerta, he somehow was able to lay low in Costa Rica, procuring odd jobs without putting himself on the map. This was how he met his pseudo-boss, Manuel, who needed someone to help man a boat after his original worker could not make it that day for one reason or another. Jake had been on the docks, waiting for any opportunity, when he heard Manuel cursing up a storm about losing a couple grand because of that puta madre. That day on the docks started a fruitful partnership that allowed him to obtain Delilah and he was always thankful for the friendship, not to mention Manuel’s lack of questioning over his past.

“‘La Huerta, was it really 20 years ago?’” he thought, eyes looking out over the sparkling ocean.

Ironically, time for Jake meant almost nothing to him these days. Days blended into weeks, weeks into months… hell, he didn’t even know what date it was. He just knew when to come in and earn his pay check.

Apparently the time spent on that damn island didn’t mean much to the outside world either. While he and the rest of the group were busy bouncing around the space-time continuum, fighting sea monsters, and altogether not trying to get killed, one week had passed by the time he returned to Costa Rica. One whole fucking week.

Jake chugged the rest of his beer as he reflected, dropping the empty bottle into the sand. It was going to be one of those days.

“Good thing I brought out the fresh bottle of Jack,” he mused, allowing himself to drown in the memories.

He closed his eyes and the first thing that entered his mind was Her. His Princess. The way she sauntered into his life, commanding his attention and respect. The way her smile lit up the whole room. The way her eyes lit up whenever she looked at him. It felt like a lifetime ago. In reality, it was.

His eyes squinted open, frowning as he blindly felt for the bottle underneath the hammock. Unscrewing the cap, he took a big gulp of the amber liquid, relishing the masochistic burn down his throat, not unlike the memories that burned into his mind.

Jake had loved her. Who was he kidding? He still did. They were soulmates. He never believed in such foolishness until she walked into his cockpit. He initially wrote it off as a passing fancy. Who wouldn’t have wanted her? She was a smoking hot, barely legal college co-ed with a mouth on her.

He smirked, “’What a mouth, indeed.’”

As much as he loved the carnal nature of their relationship, it went far beyond the intense physical attraction. He didn’t know how or when it happened, but she had broken down his walls and firmly planted herself in his heart. He loved her so much that he knew he had no business being with someone so amazing. There was nothing he could offer her. A life on the run? Always hiding and looking behind their backs? That was no life. It would have been a prison for her and he couldn’t be the one responsible if something happened.

So Jake did what he did best. He ran. After the group escaped the island, they found themselves, much to his luck, in Cuba. He told her he was still wanted and couldn’t go back, especially now that Lundgren was MIA. He wanted her to finish her degree; to make a life for herself. She told him he was her life.

He remembered grabbing her after she said that, kissing her passionately and pouring every emotion he had into it. They made love – multiple times – that night while waiting for the US authorities to gain clearance in order to pick them up.

It was the cowardly way out, he knew, leaving in the middle of the night. If he had stayed, there was no way he would have been able to say no to her. He had somehow been able to contact his boss and thanks to a few favors called in, he was on his way back to Costa Rica before she would even wake up.

That was the last time he saw her or anyone from the group, aside from that one time 15 years ago when Estela (how the hell did she find him anyway) searched him out, only to call him weak and a bastard for leaving Her in that manner. He had nothing to say except that she was right. Estela never bothered him after that.

He kept tabs on the group periodically through years: Sean went on to have a hall of fame NFL career, all the while with Michelle by his side. She wasn’t just a trophy wife, either, as she completed medical school and residency from Stanford. Craig and Zahra went on to be reality stars (total wtf), winning globe-trotting, adventure seeking shows with Craig’s “Chyeah!” becoming a pop culture phenomenon. Raj became a heralded celebrity chef, with his own show and slew of restaurants.

Aleister proved that he wasn’t the dick that betrayed them on the island. He was a silent donor to many philanthropic causes, dismantling Rourke Enterprises in the process. There was no need to worry financially anyway, as Grace was even more successful than her mother. Last he heard of Diego, he was able to use some “discarded” technology from Aleister and Grace that allowed him to be with Varyyn. (Hell if he even began to try and understand how that worked.) Quinn became a successful author, writing fantastical tales about a group of kids stranded on an island, including a girl who became possessed through the island’s power.

Jake waited to see what his Princess was going to do to shake up the world. She graduated… and nothing. It wasn’t until a couple months after Estela found him that something finally popped up.

“Delacroix Heir Surprise Wedding.”

His mind went numb at the memory of finding out she married some Richie Rich, stick up his ass, wannabe actor, trust fund baby who lived off of daddy’s money. At the time, he couldn’t stop himself from reading the blurb on whatever stupid blog site. The post detailed the elopement as best as it could, but more importantly, had a picture of the happy couple. He stared at the photograph. She was as gorgeous as ever, wearing some expensive Italian designer’s strapless number.

Her face told a different story. She held a smile, sure, but he saw it never reached her eyes. Or did it? Maybe his eyes were just interpreting the picture into what he wanted to believe. It didn’t matter anyway. He lost any right or claim to her the night he left. He stopped keeping tabs on everyone after that.

“’It was for the best. That guy’s been able to give her the life she deserved to have,’” he thought to himself, taking another drink. He closed his eyes, drifting off to an uneasy slumber, nowhere near as drunk as he would have liked to have been.

Jake is awakened some time later (one hour, two hours? Who the fuck knows?) by the sound of someone yelling.

“¡Oye, Lobo!”

The half-asleep man rubs his eyes as he sits up groggily.

“¡LOBO! ¿Dónde estás?”

“Manny, calmate. I’m over here. What’s up?”

“’What’s up…?’ Ayyy…” Manuel starts rapidly muttering in Spanish under his breath, with Jake barely making out a few words, including puta and mierda. The Costa Rican man takes a deep breath, glaring at the best pilot he’s ever had on staff.

“Where’s your mobile. I’ve been calling you for the last hour. Ricky esta enfermo. Necesitas que trabajar hoy.”

“Manny. It’s my day off. Come on, man.”

“Lo siento, Lobo. Big money today. I’ll give you cincuenta por ciento. She’s paying $10,000 for basic scenic shit.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened after doing the quick math. $5,000 would go a long way. He rubbed a hand over his face.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do it. What time?”

“Una hora,” Manuel smiled as he continued, “la chica es muy linda tambien, go clean yourself up, cabrón. Cuando fue la ultima vez que tuviste la concha?”

Jake flicked him off as he went into his place, hearing his boss’ laugh reverberating through the open air.

“’I guess there’s a reason why I didn’t get stinkin’ drunk today,’” Jake contemplated. “Few grand for a couple hours work ain’t bad at all.

He walked towards the helipad, spotting a solitary figure close to the helicopter… and what a nice figure it was. She had these long and smooth legs, a nice ass, trim waist, with hair that cascaded down her back. She looked deep in thought and didn’t hear him approach.

“Excuse me, miss?” He turned on the charm as he addressed her. “Hi, I’ll be your pilot today. I’m – “

She whipped around, but the world had gone into slow motion for him.

“Jake???”

“Princess???”

FIN.

#jake mckenzie #jake x mc #endless summer fanfic #jake mckenzie fanfic #choices fanfiction #endless summer #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices fanfic #choicescreates #fanfic #choicescreates43 #scg writes

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azulawriting · 4 years

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In The Name of The Princess - 1

A/N: This is a reupload from ff.net, where this fic vanished from some reason. I will upload sporadically. Hope you enjoy anyway. And before you ask, yes, I am the original author.

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Chapter 1: Where the Roses Last Bloomed - Part 1

The Alterian nights were cold and only naturally so. In all the continent, only Altera had been built and prospered in a floating island, miles above the canyons of Bethma. Getting to Altera was not made for just about anyone. The airships, like his, who took people in and out of the island, sold tickets only the nobles and the richest bourgeois could afford. As such, Raven Cronwell, the only heir to Velder's biggest fortune, had made his ship be the dream cruise of any Lurensian noble. It was, to some, his way to cope with the annulation of his marriage to Seris Lafayette.

Truthfully, ever since he had set foot in Altera, he had not even spared one thought to Seris the way fiancés are supposed to think about one another. No. He had not made The Black Crow a flying palace because he wished to share it with Seris one day. Every golden chandelier, silver cutlery, top-tier chef he hired, every luxurious silk cover, the interior gardens and even the pools and spas had been built for a woman, yes, but definitely not his former fiancée. The Black Crow, in Raven's mind, was the only other place besides the Alteran Royal Palace where Eve could truly be pampered like she deserved.

His multiple residences in Velder were almost at the same level of luxury as his ship, but it lacked the most important thing that made Eve's golden eyes shine with wonder: a clear star-filled sky above the clouds. Raven was nearing his mid-twenties now and his heart had been won over by the most precious, yet difficult maiden in the continent. He knew this very well, but he would not unveil his intentions to his beloved until he was certain he had a plan. As he thought all this, Raven served himself a cup of wine, looking at the night sky above the clouds in the private and luxurious lounge reserved for his friends and some distinguished members of the crew. Tonight, while a smooth jazz played through speakers in the background, the spacious and comfortable sofas in the finest leathers and smoothest velvets were mostly empty, just like the wooden dance floor fifteen steps to his right.

The automatic steel doors that led to the lounge opened with a muffled hiss, letting a small white-haired man through. He was dressed with less finer clothes than Raven, but his black tuxedo gave more elegance to his lilac eyes. His hair was unconventionally long, but the angular, confident traits of his face made the braid that held his hair back look as manly as any traditional short haircut.

The man sat on the sofa next to Raven and sighed, "I know I've said this countless times already, Raven, but why don't you just give up and find a real chance with any other woman?"

Raven glanced at his friend and took another sip of wine, "I love Eve, Owen. I love her more than I've even thought possible. The trials to get her hand are hard, but they're not impossible to beat, are they?"

The white-haired man rolled his eyes, "There's a reason why she's our age and still unmarried and without a fiancé. Those trials are no joke and no suitor has ever beaten them. None. Many have died in the attempt. Which is why I must insist you stop your folly and accept that - this one time - you can't get things your way."

Raven took a deep breath, "What makes the trials so tough? What is it that they have that no other suitor has? How can they be stronger than any man who has sought to marry the goddess of beauty incarnate?"

Owen groaned, "Are you drunk already, or are you always this cheesy when you're in love?"

Raven looked at him, glancing at his friend's wedding ring for a second, "Maybe it's both. What still astounds me is that Seris kissed and confessed to a cold bastard like you."

"I'm not here to talk about my wife nor my alleged coldness, Raven," Owen continued, getting up to fetch himself a clean cup from the empty bar behind them, "I'm here to stop you from dying a stupid death."

Owen sat back down and took the bottle over the table in front of them to serve himself the last cup.

"Well, you've always been the brains, Owen," Raven said, lifting his cup towards him, "Tell me, how I can be happy with Eve instead of dying a stupid death?"

Owen made a toast with him, though Raven could tell that the spark of his military genius was not there, "Easy. You turn around and never come back. Then, you write a book of your imaginary life with Eve. Once you're done and you get tired of bitching to me about how I supposedly ruined your life, you marry someone else. Problem solved."

Raven stared at his friend, looking exactly for the sign that he was hiding something or that, at the very least, he was actually thinking the mystery through. And sure enough, there it was: Owen passed his index over the crystal cup and slowly took a sip of it.

"Ok. That's one way to go about things, but you just thought of another one. I know it."

The man clicked his tongue, "By the El, you've known me for far too many years if you can figure me out like that."

And with those words, Owen fell silent again. His gaze was again cold and distant, more focused on following the rhythm of the jazz than saying what he was hiding. Normally, Raven would not push Owen, given his extremely short temper for any kind of teasing, but he really had to know. Mentally apologizing to his dignity and his friend for what he was about to say, Raven cleared his throat.

"But I want to hear your idea, Owen~"

The man glared at him, "Only Seris gets to say my name like that. And my other idea is stupid, so stick with the first."

"That won't do, Owen~ I'm gonna keep calling you like that until you tell me your supposedly stupid idea, Lil' Owen~"

"Fine!", Owen exploded, hitting the armrest with his fist, "You have much more money than anyone in Lurensia can dream of, so use it well."

"What do you mean?"

"If no weapon works against them, then, naturally, you'd only have to use their unbeatable weapons. I don't know if the rumours are true, but there's apparently a room where they store those weapons. In the basement."

Raven nodded, "Alright. So, they got them from somewhere. Where do I buy their weapons?"

Owen scoffed, "If it was that simple, don't you think Eve Nasod would have already been married by now?"

"Then, what does my money have to do with the plan?"

"You buy lackeys so you don't die in the attempt."

The black-haired noble gave a strong pat to his friend, "Ah, that's the best idea you've come up with."

"It's stupid, don't even try it."

"Why? It's genius."

"Who's gonna accept testing battlesuit weapons just because you put a bounty on it? No one."

Raven squinted at his friend, "Battlesuit weapons?"

His friend shook his head and finished his drink in one gulp, "Look, again, these are just rumours, but I'm fairly certain they're true. No man in his right mind would accept to be your guinea pig."

Elsword Sieghardt had taken up the invitation of Raven Cronwell.

The suburbs of Altera were closer to slums the further one ventured within them, machinery and steam diffused the glow of the dozens of neon signs. The richest man in the continent had sent a letter to his villa in Elder. The young heir of the Sieghardts knew better than to blindly trust a deal that seemed too good to be true. So, he had had that letter analyzed by the most renowned Feitan graphologists and the seal the letter had come with was confirmed to be legitimate, according to the experts he paid. As for the claims the letter had, he had seen first-hand the difficulty of the trials. The plan Raven Cronwell offered was a sound one, and the money was something his family would undoubtedly need. While they were nobles, they were at the bottom of the staircase of power, below some merchants.

Four months after he received the letter, Elsword had finally decided to make the trip to Altera once more, following his last chance at getting Eve Nasod's hand. Though the warnings in the letter still left some fears within him, the boon far outshined the risks. Elsword looked up to the neon signs in the alleyway he was walking and saw the civic number 21-6 engraved on a metal door. The building it belonged to was exactly what anyone would have expected of Raven's Cronwell's "boudoir": a ten-story luxury apartment building with wall-to-wall windows that reflected the light of the neons away as well as impeding anyone from the outside to see what was inside. Elsword could only imagine what kind of trade kept Raven's seemingly endless spending afloat. The noble title explained part of it, but certainly not all of it.

As instructed by the robotic voice who greeted him as he stepped closer to the building, Elsword recited the penthouse number he was supposed to meet Raven in as well as his full name. The green laser which scanned his retina was uncomfortable and left its glow burned in spots around his vision for the following seconds. The red-haired boy made his way into the building, following the lonely corridor lit warmly and with string music playing softly around him. At the end of the corridor, the open doors of an elevator were waiting for him. Once he got in, he noticed there were no buttons but a scanner for a card chip of some sort, perhaps the key the rich people who lived there used to get to their own penthouses. What was most strange was that there were only two levels on the elevator's screen: the ground floor and R10.

Elsword had completely underestimated just how wealthy Raven really was. No one but him lived in that building, the other floors were different recreation areas he used during his trips in Altera, mostly to entertain guests who were not Eve. The elevator hummed as it climbed until the last floor: R10.

The doors opened with a ding and Elsword stepped out in a corridor taken out of some Senacian palace, made of pure marble and lit by artificial torches and crystals. The coat of arms of the Cronwells was printed over flags on the walls as well as on the banners the authentic and restored full plate armours carried. As quietly as he could, Elsword walked through the most ostentatious display of wealth he had ever seen. Finding his way was not hard once he took five wrong turns in the biggest ballroom he had been in, but he finally found the wooden door decorated by the Cronwell's coat of arms; it was made in pure gold, of course.

The boy knocked on the door with three even knocks and, after some seconds, a white-haired man opened the door, his lilac eyes widened as he saw him. It was not very hard to recognize the best military tactician Velder had ever had. Owen Felford sighed heavily, glaring at something inside the room for a second before looking back at Elsword.

"The son of the Sieghardts, right?"

"Yes sir, my name is Elsword Sieghardt," the boy saluted him, "It's an honour to meet with the hero of Velder and my highest commander."

"At ease. Listen, Sieghardt. I've heard from Vanessa that you're a good soldier, you're sane, and have a future beyond this. So, could you-"

"Oh, so he's here!" a voice thundered from inside, naked steps powering through a wooden hall, getting increasingly closer. Owen Felford was about to close the door on his face when a robotic arm put itself in the way.

"Phew, that was a close one,"

"Raven, I wasn't serious back then. Please don't-"

The door slammed open and there Elsword saw the billionaire himself: muscular build, tall like the buildings he owned, naturally tan skin, short ink-black hair and golden eyes that brimmed with confidence.

He had visibly just gotten out of a shower and was only wearing a pair of shorts, his hair still so wet it stuck to his neck.

"So, you're Elsword Sieghardt? I knew you'd accept to come. Come on in."

"Ok..."

The boy did as he was told, stepping into an apartment inspired in Elderian architecture that would have made Wally himself jealous. The wooden floor was shining under the light of modern El Shard lamps which gently shone over the walls, their light filtered by coloured glass, repeating a chain of the Centurion Guard's coat of arms. The view of the city from here was breathtaking as the lit-up suburbs dispersed into the perfectly clear night of Altera's downtown, Nasod transportation shining on the streets below and some flying rapidly on the window's level in the distance.

"You drink wine?" Raven asked, walking back to an automatic mini-bar, getting out a bottle of Chardonnay and three cups.

"I'm only sixteen, sir."

"That's not what I asked. We're here to talk business from man to man, what do I serve you?"

Elsword pondered the question, wondering if Raven's excentricities would include snarky remarks as well as "talking business" wearing only...two pieces of clothing if those were indeed regular shorts. Owen Felford was more appropriately dressed, with his long-sleeved shirt and trousers and so the young Sieghardt begged the only other sane man in the room for help with a glance.

Owen glanced back at him and gave him a nod, acknowledging his silent plea, before turning towards his friend.

"Raven, are you really going to talk business in swimming shorts?"

The billionaire looked at himself and pointed at his friend, nodding, "Good point. Sieghardt, I'll be right back. Owen, please be a good host."

And so, Raven walked back into a hidden door that, before that moment, Elsword would have sworn to have been part of a wall. Velder's tactician took a deep breath and Elsword could almost swear that he saw all life leave his lilac eyes. Owen opened the minibar, urged him to sit on the leather sofa to the right of the ivory fireplace and asked him if he liked cranberry juice.

"I don't. I prefer appl-"

"You're gonna drink cranberry juice, young man."

'Then what's the point in asking?', Elsword mentally complained.

Owen opened the wine bottle, filled two of the three cups with wine and drank one in two big sips before he took out a small flask of cranberry juice he filled the remaining cup with. With a swift gesture, he put the cup with juice in the coffee table next to Elsword and put the wine bottle as well as his emptied cup on another glass table in front of the other sofa in front of Elsword. He brought the other cup and sat down with a heavy sigh as he filled his empty cup.

"Now that neither you nor I can officially escape from this mess, let me tell you exactly what you're gonna say when Raven comes back to ask you how the Chardonnay was."

"Yes, Sir."

"You'll say its aroma was nostalgic, reminded you of your native Ruben and you better make damn sure you drink it as slowly as possible so his business gets done before he can even think about refilling your cup."

"I was born in Hamel, Sir."

Owen took a sharp breath in, "Yes, I know that. But Raven does not and Hamel's specialty is whisky and Raven does not keep any non-alcoholic beverage that looks like whisky. So, we're gonna pretend he's right so you don't get drunk, got it?"

'I think I can understand why you're rumoured to have such a short temper, Sir Felford.' Elsword sympathized.

It took fifteen minutes of awkward waiting, almost in complete silence only interrupted by Owen taking out a silver suitcase and putting it on the glass table in between them. And then, finally, the real host of the meeting walked out, a grey blazer, matching trousers and tie completed by a white shirt and shiny black shoes. He smirked at the sight of his cup.

"I knew you drank wine, Sieghardt. Have you tasted it?"

Elsword did not even have to glance to Owen to feel a menacing aura creep out from where he was sitting.

"Yes," he said as he took a gulp, focusing as much as he could to let his disgust for cranberry juice go unnoticed, "It reminds me of my native….Ruben. Nice Chardonnay."

It was then that the menacing aura seemed to cover Raven as he took his cup with his Nasod hand. The way his amber gaze fixed on his as he drank made his thoughts run wild. The menacing aura...it began to have a sound. Something unique to it: a low, almost imperceptible gogogogogo sound to it. His mind painted everything with intense red shades, Raven's black hair suddenly a bright green and Owen's a light pink. This sort of vision only happened when his mind was cornered into a monologue of questions. Had Raven heard them? Had he realized Owen had tried to trick him?

Now that he thought about it, why would a genius like Owen Felford be friends with anyone but other fellow geniuses? Telling the truth was probably for the best. It was certainly for the best. Or was it? Truthfully, Elsword had never been good at reading the minds behind the battle strategies. That was why he had refused all promotions to any ranks above lieutenant. It did not involve questioning even the littlest of details. But his military rank had nothing to do with the dilemma at hand! There was no choice, no time! He was going to say it; he had to say the truth, consequences be damned!

"Uhm...Sir Cronwell-"

"Raven, let's get this done. Unlike you, I got other things to attend to."

The black-haired man looked at his friend, and the silent, menacing go's disappeared in the blink of an eye. His vision returned to normal and, although he could not show it, he smirked mentally at Owen's excellent save.

But just when he thought the go's were gone, Raven's gaze lowered down to the metal suitcase Owen had brought and the go's came back. From the suitcase.

"You've read the letter carefully, have you not, Elsword Sieghardt?"

"Yes, you get your hands on one of the butler's weapons and want to make sure...we can use them too, right?"

The man nodded, looking back at him with all the seriousness of a hardened military veteran, "Exactly. These are very powerful magical artifacts that enhance their wielder to go beyond their human capacities...Owen, please open it."

The man mumbled something Elsword could not quite understand, but he supposed it was far from a kind agreement to the order. With the same grave look in his eyes, Owen's lavender gaze alone turned everything around him in various shades of blue as he gave him a final warning.

"Sieghardt, to go beyond human capacities...one must reject their humanity. It is a heavy toll to pay. Are you determined to pay the price, Sieghardt?"

Elsword gulped another sip of the horrendous juice, a drop of sweat rolling down his temples. He was here, far from his town, with two of the most powerful men in Lurensia, drinking a juice he hated above anything else. All so he could have a chance to have sweet money, a chance to take revenge on that purple-haired butler and...see Eve Nasod again. If those were not reasons enough to guide him to this exact place, he did not know what was. Elsword clenched his fists and with a confident smile, he made his will known to the world:

"I reject my humanity! Owen Felford!"

As if it had responded to his infinite motivation, the case opened, and fog -filled with mana- oozed out of it as the lid creaked slowly open. As the magical object came into view, a blinding light connected its will to his. It was the power calling for him!

"Sieghardt!", Raven yelled, "The weapon is responding to you, but you need the right incantation!"

"What is it?!"

The light was bending his body to its will, making him strike a strange pose, or rather dance. He clicked his fingers together - a feat he had never been able to do - and began to walk rhythmically in place.

"Raven, he's begun to resonate with the weapon already...Sieghardt! Say the words I'm going to tell you: vocal percussion on a whole other level, coming from my mind!"

What? That was the most ridiculous incantation he had ever heard. Not even the most powerful mages ever said such a nonsensical spell before unleashing their power.

"What?"

"The power is getting unstable!" Raven groaned and Elsword could almost swear he was about to grab him by the collar with his Nasod arm, "Elsword Sieghardt! Hurry and say the words before the power breaks the artifact: vocal percussion on a whole other level, coming from my mind!"

"Fine! Vocal percussion on a whole other level, coming from my mind!"

The light engulfed him completely, mana beyond his wildest dreams swung around him like a breeze, fusing itself with his body. It was so strong, Elsword could almost swear it had a conscience. It silently spoke to him, moving his body in a dance which sped up the way it fused with his body. Elsword had never been a good dancer, but he felt the flow of a natural dancer. No, it was a rhythm only celestial crusaders could ever hope to accomplish. His rhythmic steps stopped, he put himself on the tip of his toes before putting his feet back down, spreading his legs to his shoulder level, arched like the gates of temples in Sander. He clicked his fingers again and bent his knees back together, then back to the position he was before.

He began to realize the energy was wrapping itself around him...as if it were clothes. Still, he was too drunk in the power and the dance to pay more attention to it than that. He bent his arms to his shoulder level, arched his back a little backwards, looking at the sky as he extended his arms in front of him like a zombie. A fuchsia light covered his hands as he reached back with his arms and crossed them over his chest, his fingers tauntingly curved. He bent forwards and crossing his feet one in front of the other, his toes facing the sides. All in one single and swift motion.

He used his left foot as a pivot to spin and, as he stopped, he felt a cap cover his hair, which he grabbed to better lower it over his head. He reached to the side, feeling one final surge of power wanting to respond to his will. And, this time, he knew exactly how to summon it.

"Stardust Crusaders!"

The handle of a weapon naturally flew towards his open palm and he caught it, swinging it as its weight was made to be held by two hands. He thought the light was about to fade any moment by now, but he heard Owen's battle cry:

"Battle Tendency!"

Elsword looked down at his weapon and saw he was holding a chainsaw...but not any kind of chainsaw. No, this chainsaw was glittering like women's jewelry in shades of purple and pink. Its blades did not look to be the most efficient. All the blades were pointy, yes, but their shape…

'Who in their right mind makes chainsaw blades shaped like dolphins painted gold of all possible colours?'

The light faded for a moment before it grew stronger again. This time, because of Raven's voice.

"Jojolion!"

The light faded away as soon as it had come, but nothing could have prepared Elsword for the spectacle he was about to witness as his vision returned. Everything but the two men in front of him was as it had been. Owen was the first one to look down at himself with a very complicated look on his face. It could have been disgust, utter despair, shock, anger or all of those emotions combined.

The proud tactician of Velder was shamefully dressed with a pink dress that covered him to his knees. The rest of his legs were covered by white stockings and matching heels. The dress was not only pink, Elsword noticed. It had multiple gold patterns around the neck and the sleeves which barely covered his shoulder. It even had paddings over his chest to simulate a big pair of breasts. The skirt of his dress had a lighter pink frilly apron tied to it. His long hair was tied in two pigtails, curled up like a true princess' maid. The weapons in his hands could have barely been called ones: they were two empty bottles of Tequila.

Elsword's eyes widened like gold ED coins and he fearfully turned around to stare at Raven's transformation. As if to reference the luxurious ship he owned, Raven's dress imitated those of female sailors...in pulp fiction. The straight navy-blue skirt had a white border made in lace and ended an inch above his knees. Elsword first thought he did not have stockings, but he noticed a beige garter as Raven took a hesitant step with his black heels forward. He ended up tripping, his womanly shirt fluttered and his white captain hat, which was decorated with a big pink rose, fell with him. He had no weapon with him.

And Raven fell right in Owen's arms.

Elsword took a step forward to stop a catastrophe from happening, but it was then he noticed there were other steps.

Owen caught his friend in his embrace, still holding his empty bottles firmly in his hands, though he soon pushed him away "Hey, dumbass, you're too heavy with that arm!"

"Owen…I can't. I can't stand with these heels."

Raven fell backwards, laying on the sofa, his black hair suddenly long enough to reach his back, tied in silky pigtails with star-shaped laces. Unintentionally, his legs spread to both sides of the sofa's end,revealing his underwear to Owen, though he did not notice this. Raven's fake chest was perhaps bigger than Owen's but what was more interesting were Raven's hands. They seemed to shine like a woman's, not only because of the silver bracelets decorated by stars around his wrists. Elsword took a step closer and knelt beside Raven to make sure his eyes were not tricking him.

He took Raven's human hand and flipped it to see his nails. There was no doubt about it. They had nail polish...purple nail polish. It reeked of magic, but it seemed too weak compared to the power he could feel within him.

"Sieghardt?", Raven asked, "What are you doing?"

Elsword had forgotten about the other steps he had heard and that fact came back to him as a grim reminder. Behind them, a woman's voice coldly echoed.

"Owen, dear?"

The three men in the room turned fearfully around, two of them recognizing immediately who the woman was: Seris Felford.

Elsword's mind froze, suddenly aware of what this very moment would look like to an onlooker. All of them were crossdressing, probably. Owen was looking down at Raven, who was laying in a very compromising position on a sofa. He was holding Raven's hand. Any woman, no, any adult would have understandably come to perverted conclusions about the current situation. Especially when there was a pink dolphin-blade chainsaw laying on the corner of the room and two empty Tequila bottles in Owen's hands.

Owen was the first one to break from the thick, uncomfortable and eternal silence. He looked pale, horribly sick, but his voice was as confident as ever.

"How many seconds do I have to explain?"

"Five," the blonde woman said.

Five seconds? That was far too little for anyone to get them out of this mess. Owen had helped him before, so this was his chance. Elsword got up, dropping Raven's hand and walked next to Seris, determined to help Owen.

"Ma'am. I...I-I can assure you that t-this-"

The woman's piercing green gaze turned towards him like an arrow shot from a crossbow.

"Silence, kid."

Her voice was silent thunder, and Elsword got away from Raven, bowing to the goddess of war he had angered.

"Y-yes, ma'am."

Raven, by now, had sat down properly on the sofa and straightened up his skirt, accidentally ripping away some of it with the claws of his robotic hand. Though he was the one who started it all, he wanted to save his closest friend from getting smited by his wife.

"Hi, Seris," he began, apologetically, "I...didn’t know you were going-"

"Raven Cronwell, you don't have the right to know where I'm going to be. Not anymore."

Raven shamefully lowered his head, morally defeated in one strike. There was no one left to save Owen.

"Owen, my dear, you got four seconds."

Her voice was just a bit sweeter, but there was no mistaking the supernatural menace that it held in every syllable. This was a death sentence, no matter what Owen said. And, maybe because he realized how hopeless the situation was, Velder's tactician spoke with the solemnity of a colonel after a lost battle.

"Raven's plan. He was sober enough to think that this was anything but a ridiculous plan."

The woman nodded, closing her eyes with a smile; the guillotine's blade had been set free. It was free-falling right towards Owen's neck.

"I see."

Seris turned around and walked right towards the door, and as she distanced herself from them, they recovered the ability to think and move consciously, not just out of fear. Owen followed his wife, very slowly so he did not lose his balance.

"Seris, honey-"

But before he could say anything more, the door closed with a bang in front of him. The white-haired man came back to them and sat in the most uncomfortable wooden chair that nobody would ever sit down on. Elsword had thought that Owen's life had slipped away from his eyes when Raven ordered to open the artifact, but he now realized he had been mistaken.

Owen Felford's eyes were as dark as a dead man's, his face was pale and the few words he mouthed only gave Elsword chills; they were a curse from an undead. The kind of curse that would condemn Raven and his descendants to the lowest circle of hell.

Raven cleared his throat, "That...could've gone a lot worse, not gonna lie."

Elsword looked at him in disbelief, 'Really? I think she's gonna file the divorce papers right now...'

The air around him got suddenly colder, spreading the fear of a demonic threat as everything around them turned in different shades of purple and bright reds. This was a menace beyond the silent gogogo's. This was a wrath so absolute that it invaded everyone's minds. All of that coming from the fiery glare Owen was giving Raven.

'He's dead!'

The man dressed in pink got up, throwing the chair to the wall with only the flick of his finger. Dark energy gathered around him like the plague, the room cooling down as he made a step forward.

"Raven..." his voice was haunting like a demon's, "Are you trying to ruin my marriage?!"

His growl echoed through the room as the dark energy around him transformed into a flash of light, blinding them for an instant. When it faded away, Owen's attire...had upgraded. Well, Elsword thought, it was an upgrade from the perspective of feminine fashion. But it was definitely not what he had expected after such a display of killing intent. The world around him returned to its normal shades and, by looking on the surface of the glass table, Owen realized what had happened. Golden earrings made of three consecutive circles now hung by his earlobes. His lips were covered with bright red lipstick, his white eyelashes curled under the weight of mascara and his cheeks were femininely coloured by two circles of pink blush.

Raven's fear soon vanished, but while Elsword would have found the situation hilarious under any other circumstances, he told himself that if he laughed at Owen Felford, he would be immediately expelled from the military. Elsword could not go job-hunting again, even if his sister Elesis gained a good salary. If he stopped for any reason, his family would inevitably sink into ruin.

"Pfft."

The billionaire could barely keep his laughter and that, as Elsword feared, only fueled Owen's rage. He grabbed his empty bottles of Tequila by the neck of the bottle, spinning them in his hands like bats.

"I sincerely hope you haven't forgotten that I can break your skull with these bottles. I don't know why, but I strongly believe that they're as sturdy as a metal bat."

And sure enough, lightning rays of mana circled over the bottles, erasing Raven's smile for an instant as the mana ran through his friend's arms and up to his head, making his eyes shine maliciously.

Yep, there was something horribly wrong about this whole ordeal. Elsword could feel it in his veins. Something terrible was about to happen the moment the lightning was fully absorbed by Owen's body.

'No! Owen Felford! You're going to-'

And sure enough, Elsword's fears became a reality: a frilly pink maid headpiece appeared on Owen's head, shining with gold circles on the sides held by pink ribbons tied in such perfect bows that they would have made Santa’s elves jealous. That was not all, now the bottles were glittering with pink stars and also had perfect pink bows tied around their necks, above Owen's grasp.

Raven could not contain his laughter any longer, and Elsword had to clench his fists and jaws to not join him. He had to admit the man's laughter was exactly like Elesis's: loud and contagious. Owen looked again at himself, and the calm and collected anger that had made him so scary unleashed in a single cry:

"Oh, for fuck's sake! How in the El's name am I supposed to turn back to normal?!"

"Wait...you didn't know how to do that?", the red-haired teen asked.

Raven was too busy laughing and so Owen gave him the explanation. It wasn't that they didn't know how to turn back. That incantation came naturally to the wielder of the chainsaw, but now that its power had grown out of control, they had no idea if their transformation was permanent. Owen stared in silence at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong, Sir Felford?"

"Everything in my life is wrong, Sieghardt. But you, your...transformation looks more apt for battle."

'Huh?'

Raven's laughter was finally fading away, until he looked at his friend, with his bottles at hand. He could not stop himself, Elsword figured, and it was no surprise given the kind of man Owen Felford was. Pink lightning flowed across the bottles, but Raven was no longer afraid. In fact, it seemed like he was looking forward as to how Owen was going to transform next.

And that was a grave mistake.

Owen made the bottle spin in the air and grabbed it by its body, the cork pointing at Raven. In a flash, it flew away like a bullet and left a hole in the fireplace as the marble around it crackled in a small crater. Immediately, Raven straightened up and put defensively his hands in front of him, thinking on pleading with Owen.

"Next, " Owen seethed, "you'll say: I'm sorry, Owen. I'll try to come up with something so Seris can forgive you. "

"I'm sorry, Owen. I'll try to come up with something so Seris can…wait, how did you know-"

The cork flew back on the bottle. Owen smirked with his dead eyes, looking closer to a cruel killer than to the man he had once been.

"Hell if I know, Raven. I just want to ask you some things. Is this payback for that one time I told you I'll use you like chess pieces? That doesn't quite get paid off by ruining my life. It's an overkill...don't you think so, Raven?!"

If Elsword had been afraid of speaking out because of the power Owen held within the military, he was now fearing the beast of pure evil that was charging the corks of the bottles again. He had heard that some people snap when they're cornered, but he never thought it would be such a terrifying thing to witness. Raven leapt with the grace of a gymnast above Owen, flipping in the air before landing perfectly on his two feet. And as soon as he was there, he ran away, rightfully fearing for his dear life.

Owen chuckled, "Is that the courage of the Blademaster? Raven, you're gonna run away?!"

A flash of light blinded Elsword again, and right when he thought he was going to witness a murder in cold blood, the light vanished. Owen was no longer holding any Tequila bottles. In fact, his attire changed more than that. He was not even wearing makeup nor a headpiece.

Owen Felford was back to normal. Though, Elsword did not want to know if his mind was also back to what it had been. The white-haired tactician looked at his hands, blinking. He touched his face and then passed his hands over his hair, his lilac gaze widening as he felt that his low braid was back. He chuckled as some life returned to his eyes. Owen had conquered shame hotter than the sun! He was one step closer to becoming the ultimate combat maid!

The man fell to his knees and reached out to the sky, "I've never even believed in you, Ishmael! But if this is your doing, you have my deepest thanks!"

He laughed for a short while, tears of relief streaming down his face. He swept them away and got up once again. It was as if he had never even smiled in the first place. The tactician looked at him.

"Elsword Sieghardt. Pick up your chainsaw and follow me. We need a proper arena to test the extent of the artifact's power on you."

"Sir...what about Raven?"

Owen offered him a bright smile, "He can't run forever, Sieghardt."

A chill ran down Elsword's spine. 'This is the face of a man planning murder.'

#elsword #raven cronwell #owen felford #parody #jojo because why not #magical boy #chapter 3 never #more characters coming soon

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