YOU KNOW WHO ELSE HAS A YELLOW HANKERCHIEF??? LEONA.

YEAH OFC!!!!! anyone who denies Leona's piss kink is a coward and a fool. That lion loves piss and we all know it!!!!

Locks, clocks, and coffee. Part 2

After finally opening the lock, I carefully swung the door open. I expected the tiny tinkle of a bell, but instead I heard a click, deafening in the silence. Several lights began to turn on gradually. Though a few were burnt out, as expected from the disuse, the number that were still functional was surprising. The slow increase in brightness, I discovered, was intentional. I also began to smell something that didn't fit with the dust.

Coffee.

My eyes followed the trigger above the door to a series of gears and pulleys that all led to a large machine whose purpose was, upon close inspection, to grind and brew coffee. Judging from the fans and rubber hosing and gaskets, the beans were held in a vacuum chamber before being processed. It certainly explained why they were persevered well enough to still smell like coffee, though the mold that had grown on them warned against actually drinking it.

I started to look through the various gears, cogs, springs, and other parts when I glanced up at the machine that had been brewing coffee. Inside the vacuum chamber, speckled with mold and bits of coffee grounds, a letter sat neatly on top. It must have been just barely buried by the beans and the shaking of the container caused it to rise to the top as the beans fell underneath.

I carefully opened the container, though the gaskets, brittle with age, cracked apart where they didn't stick like glue to the lid. I had covered my mouth with a handkerchief, though the mold was still bad enough to make me cough.

The envelope was yellowed, but still flexible, and unsealed. The letter inside was intricately folded, but I had made more than my share of paper airplanes as a child, so I was capable of unfolding the letter without tearing the paper.

From reputation and similarities to certain stories I had expected a riddle, or a map, or directions to a landmark of some type. Instead, I found something that looked to be a recipe with a bunch of unrelated schematics written below.

While I pondered this, I heard a voice call out, and another click leading to the coffee grinder running.

I was about to hide, after all, I was technically trespassing, when I saw a leather bag on the workbench with a cup of coffee with the words "take me" painted on the side. I grabbed the bag and mug (which was full of black and green sludge) and ducked beneath the bench.

THE YAKUZA AND THE PHOENIX - A BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA FANFICTION

"See, the problem with people like you," Commented the cool, sanitised yet utterly terrifying voice of Kai Chisaki as he kneeled down just in the very corner of the hero's peripheral vision. "Is that you relied far too much on that disgusting disease that plagues every last vein in your Godforsaken body. Maybe if you had just thought ahead a little… Has this illness robbed you of your senses, too? Left you as useless as a newborn? Not that it matters. It's far too late by now for any part of you to begin thinking about what could have been. I mean, just take a look around." He raised one hand to adjust his mask, while using the other to gesture to the scene around the two, one filled with flame and destruction. "If you had thought to bring police, tried to corner me with rifles, well you might have had some sort of success. I'm not stupid enough to resist against live bullets. But no. Your sickening Quirk has left you with such delusions that you thought you could stand to take me on alone."

The young woman's eyes filled with nothing but pure steel as she looked up at him. There was no fear to be found in the glare she delivered the man known as Overhaul, in spite of the terror bubbling in the pits of her stomach, constantly threatening to rise to the top. But she would not let it. Not in front of this Chisaki bastard, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he had won.

"No words?" The man sighed, poking her lightly in the head as if to provoke a reaction. "Like a kid who doesn't get their way. Stubborn to the end. What a pain you are. The worst kinds of people are the ones who don't realize they're infected. They have no true redemption in their future. It's kind of weird when you think about it. What a shame… Not that it's any of my concern. I'm more interested in just why you and your ridiculous headgear have been following me around all day. Do you have an answer for that?" He grabbed her by the back of the hair, and pulled her face up to look at his. "I'd prefer an answer as soon as possible, so I can minimise the amount of contact made with your disgusting body."

There was only one way the woman knew she could respond to this and that way landed directly on the suspected Yakuza's forehead. "Why would I tell you anything, asshole? You won't get anything out of the Phoenix."

The man actually audibly growled, like a feral wolf, as he slammed her head into the asphalt. She felt her nose break as blood streamed from it onto the road. It was probably one of the lesser injuries she had incurred that day. Chisaki got to his feet and produced a spotless handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his face of the hero's saliva. "How childish." His voice was full of pure, deep contempt. "How filthy. Were you never taught manners? Are you mentally deficient? Hmph. Not that I should expect any more from a hero who calls themselves the Phoenix. How cliché." With that, he returned to his kneeling position over her limp body, she practically felt his shadow drop over her as the smell of burning embers filled her nose. Were those sirens she heard? They were faint, but what else could they be? Were they coming in her direction? One ear was completely busted up, so she couldn't tell. Looking up to the man who supposedly went by Overhaul, her peripheral vision severely limited by her complete and total lack of a right eye, she found her mind drifting away to the beginning of the day. When things had seemed oh so simple. When she still had all her limbs and when life had generally been more preferable when contrasted against her current predicament.

When had it all gone so wrong?

---------------------

"So, all I have to do is follow the bugger?" Twenty-three year old Misa Kawajiri enquired into her phone as she took small, meticulous sips from her large Coke, sitting atop a rooftop in the very heart of the city, occasionally reaching into the bag next to her to dig out a fry or two and jam them into her mouth. This was the life, no doubt about it. The young woman, who went by the heroic moniker of the Phoenix, was elated whenever she was sent on surveillance patrols by her agency. Most other pro heroes would consider such work to be beneath them, it mostly consisted of hounding tax evaders, low-rent rank-and-file grunts and conmen, there was almost certainly never a tang of excitement to be found. This was the reason most heroes preferred more interesting work and it was the reason why Kawajiri adored such jobs. For her, it was a chance to slow down, chill out and enjoy life at a bit of a slower pace than usual. She definitely was not above having time to unwind and take things at a more reasonable pace. Of course, today's surveillance was already beginning to sound more interesting. It had started out with monitoring some basement-dwelling Otaku who shared anti-hero sentiments on internet forums, so not exactly a thrill ride there, as evidenced by the fact that Misa had left halfway through to get herself a McDonald's. But her new target, as assigned to her by her employers at the agency…

"His name's Kai Chisaki." Rang the cool, clerical voice of Phoenix's supervisor. "Mid to late twenties, germaphobe. He isn't often seen out and about, instead residing largely in the Shie Hassaikai's compound."

"Hassaiaki?" The hero of the sky's ears perked up at that. "He's Yakuza?"

"As far as we know, yes. We can't trace back any records of a family, except for Kazama Chisaki, his uncle, who was also associated with the organization before his death, although not as a full member."

"Interesting…" The girl pondered. "So, why are we following him, then? The Hassaikai have a good reputation, right?" Her words were slightly muffled as she jammed more fries in her mouth at that moment than was probably reasonable.

"That they do, Phoenix. They're underground. There have been search warrants on the premises before, but nothing suspicious was turned up. They're a Yakuza group in name only right now, nothing worth worrying about. But Chisaki? He's different. You're going to be following him for reasons unrelated to his activity within the clan."

"Oh?" Misa cupped her free ear with her hand so that she could better hear the man on the other end of the phone.

"In short, we have reasons to believe he's been peddling Trigger behind the backs of his bosses. Obviously, I don't need to tell you about that."

She nodded, although that was a tad redundant, considering the voice on the other end could not see her. The experimental drug known for its Quirk-bolstering properties was nothing to trifle with, and it had only grown more popular in recent time. "Why do you think he's doing so?"

"Money, probably. Who knows with these criminal types? The point remains that we have reason to believe he's out and about today. I've sent you an image of him on your phone. Follow him, see what he's up to. When a hermit like him comes out of the woodwork, it can never be good. Not for anybody." And with that, her superior hung up, leaving Misa to her own thoughts. In being left this way, she dug her knees up tucked under her chin and sulked for a bit, confident that nobody could see her act in such a childish manner, taking the odd glance at the image. He was a shockingly handsome young fellow, with sharp yellow eyes, ruffled brown hair and a suit, he looked the part of any well-meaning businessman. The only weird aspect was the steampunk-esque plague doctor mask clamped around his mouth. She shrugged it off as probably having something to do with his Quirk, whatever that was.

"This sucks." She groaned as she reached for her helmet, which mostly served as a fancy shell to hold the visor that shielded her eyes from the wind. "I don't wanna have to pursue Yakuza drug dealers, it's just no good. Give me a fat, tinfoil hat loser ranting about conspiracies any day. Surveillance is supposed to be a break from the hard stuff. But nooo, it just has to be more of it, doesn't it?" She sighed, the air whistling over her lips, as she tossed aside her empty bag. Stretching upwards, allowing her skintight suit to hug her body, she felt her wings extend from her body. It was always a glorious sensation to be felt, the pure rush of it all. She adored it beyond belief, the best part of the job. With a cheeky grin, the young hero spread her arms…

… And let herself fall from the building's roof.

---------------------

Filthy. The very lot of them, surrounded by filth and dirt and all manner of unpleasantries. It was enough to break young Kai Chisaki out in hives, it truly was. Absolutely repulsive. How horrendous to have to walk amongst the common people, all of them no doubt inflicted with that despicable illness. As he made his way down the crowded high street, bumping into the occasional commuter, he felt the irresistible urge to lift up the sleeve of his green coat and scratch at the lumps on his arm. Urgh. The very lot of them, disgusting. He was rapidly remembering why he vastly preferred to remain indoors. And yet, he had to do this. He couldn't entrust mere goons with carrying out the mission, not even the Eight Precepts of Death. This had to be done by him and him alone. He felt the cold metal rub against his stomach from the inside pocket of his coat. What depraved things that guns were. Alas, they were a necessary evil, and still far better than Quirks. As he walked, he had no clue of the eyes following him as he did so. Misa Kawajiri worked fast and had found him in mere minutes. Was he aware of this, he would almost have applauded her.

Key word: Almost.

"He's carrying some sort of briefcase..." The girl noted to herself as she watched him. Luckily, his mask made him very distinctive for anyone who may be looking for him, so she had not had much trouble. "Is that relevant to whatever he's up to?" The questions were racing through her head in spite of her better judgement. She couldn't help but wonder about the good-looking, well-dressed young fellow with Yakuza ties. It was all so odd to her, and new. She didn't often run into anything so… exciting, was probably the word. And normally, Phoenix abhorred exciting. But something about it just seemed alluring. Maybe it was more the man than the danger, who really knew? Certainly not her.

…

DAMN.

Wrapped up in her own little thoughts, Kawajiri had lost Chisaki. He had seeped into the crowd. That wasn't good, not good at all. Not even wasting a second, Misa once again extended her wings and took off into the air, in search of the fellow she was shadowing. Stupid Misa, she cursed herself. How had she been so stupid? She really needed to focus more. Her eyes scanned the surroundings as she flew over an alleyway that served as a gap between two buildings.

And in that very alleyway, Kai Chisaki now stood, facing a triage. They were common street thugs, Overhaul had done his research. Nothing big, they were unheard of, just worthless druggies with not a thing to their names and a whole heap of desperation for power, power that they had no clue what to do with. In other words, the perfect suckers to lure in.

"Gentlemen." The distinguished Yakuza bowed. The goons showed no such respect in return. Was it really so hard to show the baseline politeness required of a person? These kinds of people pissed him off the most. Fortunately, the mask obstructed his grimace as he set the silver case on the ground and entered in a combination. A few seconds passed and then it clicked open. "Here's your bloody Trigger. Ten vials, enough to give the three of you a bolster in your path- In your Quirks for up to forty-eight hours. If you have any questions, I would advise you ask now."

The thugs all shared looks with one another. They appeared satisfied at the very least, yet the one in the middle, a big guy with muscles to rival All Might- Well, the former All Might- seemed incredulous to some degree. 

"So, what yer tellin' us, Chisaki-"

"I would prefer if you called me Overhaul."

"-Right. Sorry." His accent was just thick enough to get under the Yakuza's skin. "Yer sayin' that we don' hafta pay for any of this?"

To this, Kai shrugged. "Consider it a first-time buyer's guarantee. If you want more later down the line, that's when you'll have to start paying me. Otherwise, take it." He kicked the briefcase, sending it sliding towards the men. "It's all yours." For a moment, it seemed like the huge guy was about to protest, but at looking at the vials, his greed got the better of him, and he allowed a wide grin to overcome his face, no doubt imagining what his improved Quirk would be like. Disgusting animal.

"Pleasure doin' business with ya, Mr. Overhaul." He gloated as he picked up the case, his cronies hovering around him as they sneaked looks at the drug. Now was probably the best time to strike, while they were blinded by their own pathetic delusions of grandeur.

"Likewise." Chisaki responded, reaching into his coat, as if trying to find a cigarette. "Say, you three, have you ever wondered what society would be like without Quirks? How far we could have advanced by now if we hadn't had to restart everything to accommodate the idea of superpowers?" The men stared at him like he was mad, which was to be expected. "It's just something I've been thinking about." He admitted as he pulled the gun from his coat and aimed it squarely at the large man's head. "Let's test it out. You'll survive, of course."

"What the fuck?" The scumbag growled as he dropped the case in shock. "You pullin' a gun on us? Guess what, you skinny prick? It's three on one. Shoulda thought about that before pullin' a betrayal!"

"Probably." Kai noted nonchalantly as he took aim and fired.

The bullet ricocheted up against a wall in the alley as the metallic weapon was knocked from his hand by a kick. And not a kick from one of the steroided-up goons. No, one aimed from above.

"Looks like I caught you boys in the act." Phoenix grinned as she stood, legs firmly apart, eying up Kai. "Trying to betray the dudes you're selling drugs to really isn't a great idea, I must add." 

…

Filthy…

Sickening….

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??!!" Kai Chisaki screamed, his voice carrying high up into the sky as he stared down the hero, his pupils small and mad in their sockets. "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME??!! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU??!!" He was completely enraged, sweat pouring from his forehead as he grasped at his hair. "DISGUSTING, DISGUSTING, DISGUSTING!!" He appeared to be on the receiving end of a full-on breakdown. All this over being kicked in the hand? No, it couldn't just be that. Already, the receivers of the Trigger had fled, stolen briefcase in hand. It really had been their lucky day.

"Woah, calm down, Chisaki-"

"Who gave you the right to call me that?!" He demanded, his voice slightly softer now. "And do you have any idea how difficult those bullets were to manufacture? I simply cannot afford to waste them!" Turning his back on Kawajiri, he picked up the gun, examining it for damages, and then wiped it clean with his white surgical gloves.

"Hey, creep! Stay right where you are!" Misa was petrified. She truly was. Something about this guy just was not right at all. She had been told he was a major germaphobe, but was it this bad? Enough to push him into insanity at a moment's touch? "You're under arrest for possession distribution of illegal narcotics." She was basically reading off the rulebook, saying what she was supposed to say in such situations. But nothing about this felt normal. Why was he so focused on the gun? "Stand down and await for police transport."

"You think I would heed such commands from a filthy piece of scum like yourself?" Suddenly, Kai was cool, clinical, yet again as he calmly pointed the gun in her direction. Phoenix nearly felt her heart stop. "Maybe you'll make a better test subject." His finger tightened on the trigger of the handgun. Misa had no time to think, no time to plan.

She simply ran forwards, charging the villain as he steadied his aim. Another loud bang echoed from the gun. She felt it tear her suit as it whizzed past her, but she managed to just barely evade it. Now, she was too full of adrenaline to stop, as she ploughed towards Chisaki. As she drew closer, she reached out, grabbing for his arm… She had to restrain him and fast.

"DON'T LAY YOUR FILTH-ENCRUSTED FINGERS ON ME FOR EVEN A SECOND!!" Overhaul yelled, back to unconcealed rage, as he slammed his hand down onto the ground. From nowhere, burst large columns of rock from beneath the concrete, sending the heroine flying back a few inches and separating the two. 

"Woah..." Was this his Quirk? She hadn't seen anything like it before. The rock wall stretched all the way up, totally shielding the Yakuza from her. It twisted up into the blue sky, as far as the eye could see. And then, she heard his voice, once again calm, from the other side.

"You made me use my Quirk." The man stated. "I hate this thing, but you left me with no other option. For that, I truly do feel some sort of hatred for you. So, I suppose I really feel no guilt in using you as my little guinea pig." Then, he fell silent again, as Phoenix paced around, trying to look for some sort of opening in the wall. Suddenly, she heard a rush of wind behind her and snapped around her head just fast enough to see Overhaul rushing at her. Now, Kawajiri had no clue just what his Quirk did yet, but she figured letting him touch her was a bad idea, so she took off into the air, hovering out of his reach.

"So, a flight Quirk, eh?" Chisaki sighed. His hair was ruffled, the purple fur on his coat torn in places and his bleach white tie flicking wildly with the motion from his rapid movements. "I must admit, I've never been great with moving targets." Once again, the pistol was out, pointed at her. No, she shouldn't panic. Judging from earlier, whatever bullets he loaded the thing with were very precious and so, he wouldn't waste them unless he knew there was a guaranteed chance of hitting her. She was safe for now.

She realized she had been foolish to think that even as the spiked column of rock dug itself up from the ground and impaled her right through the stomach, sending her back, right out of the alley and into the streets outside. She heard a scream as she slammed into a car, feeling the metal crunch behind her. Her vision was hazy, like that of a drunk, but she could still make out the suited villain walking slowly towards her as civilians fled the area. Well, all except for one man, who clearly realized that Kai was up to no good and tried to charge him. Without even looking in his direction, his gaze fixed on Misa, Overhaul's arm made contact with the brave man's chest and he exploded into nothingness.

"What the hell?!" Phoenix yelled. She felt like throwing up at the man's remains splattered the asphalt So this Quirk… It could erect pillars of rock, reduce humans to nothing, what was it exactly? She couldn't even think straight in her current state to try to decipher the answer.

"Isn't it kind of weird how people always try to act the hero? I've noticed that. I swear, this world has been poisoned beyond belief. Can I even cure it? Is that possible?" She felt cold metal as the bastard jammed the gun into her gaping mouth. "All I know is that I can try my very best. Starting here. You'll be my first patient, my girl. The first to be cured."

"Bite me." She hissed as she aimed a kick at his side, which somehow connected, winding the Yakuza just long enough for Misa to stagger to her feet. It felt like she had multiple broken ribs. Those could wait. "I think I get your shtick now. You think Quirks are disgusting or something, right? Yeah, just like any of those Creature Rejection Clan nutjobs. But you think you can bring an end to them, right?" She coughed up some blood onto her fist as she held Chisaki's gaze. "Well, think again, dickwad. You really think that you're some great saviour. I dunno what you have planned, but it sure as hell won't be anything that won't see you crushed like the pathetic little man you are!" And with that, she took flight again, aiming a kick at his head.

Before she even knew it, another column had travelled right through her left eye with a fleshy squealtch, blood coating the rock as she hurtled backwards, her fall stopped by a large vehicle that the rock pinned her to.

"Jesus… That it?" She spat, as Kai approached her yet again, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Then, he stepped backwards. Then again. Then, he spun around and started walking away. Misa was completely taken aback. "What?! You just leaving, you limp-dicked bastard? That ain't how a saviour acts, is it? Running away from a fight?" Her attempts at provocation did nothing to stop him and when the young woman tilted her head just a little, she saw why.

"Ah-" She started, before the oil tanker she had been pinned to exploded. The shockwave could be felt for blocks to come, glass shattered from the skyscrapers above as the world was thrown upside down. Everything went white for Misa Kawajiri, then black.

---------------------

Damn. That really had escalated quickly. And now, the pro hero lay, amongst the rubble, with one eye, a busted ear, no legs and a stump of an arm. The Yakuza stood above her. 

"I'll be willing to overlook your blatant lack of manners." Overhaul growled as he resumed his kneeling position. "In fact, I'll let you be saved. I'll be the one to save you. Isn't that something? A sickening power-infected freak like you, given a second chance by a humble Yakuza. And after everything you've done to me. You have been one hell of an annoyance. But, I guess you'll have started to make it up to me if Eri's little bullets end up working." The girl felt metal press into her side. Why was he so eager to shoot her? It must have something to do with whatever he was planning. The last thing Misa Kawajiri heard was the crack of a gunshot, the last thing she felt was the pain of the bullet entering her body, and then, she fell still. A second or two passed before Kai hovered his hand over her head.

"All going well, you have been deprived of your filthy Quirk." He noted, more to himself as the hero was now deeply unconscious. "Now, just to fix you up." He pushed his hand down on her and the woman's body blew apart in a spectacular show of blood and gore. Just a few seconds later, it reassembled, all limbs, eyes and anything else re-attached. With a satisfied nod, the man got to his feet.

"You'll live peacefully for the rest of your days." He told her, turning his back on her and walking away from the destruction that lay sprawled out like the play area of a particularly deranged and angry child, as if it had just been another day at the office, adjusting his tie. "No Quirk, no heroics, no excitement. I hope you're cut out for a desk job, Phoenix. It's all you have in your future. You're welcome."

DEAD WALLS RISE - CONNAR

PART ONE

The day that Connar found out he was red-green colorblind coincidentally happened to by the same day he first met Gen. And the two events were not all together unrelated. He’d been let out to play by his mother with the same vague warning she always told him, ‘don’t go passed the boundary’. The boundary being the yellow paint upon a selection of trees that marked the end of their property and the beginning of their neighbor Gen’s land. Or at least they said it was yellow. It just looked white to Connar.  

He had never met Gen, but his father had several times and for everything that the boy had ever heard about him, Gen seemed to be a very nice fellow. He just so happened to be a Vhasshalan giant. His father once told him that Gen was an old man, widowed, and liked his privacy. So to be good and respectful neighbors, they created the boundary so they never mistakenly foraged or hunted on his land.

“We’re not poachers,” his father told him once.    

Which was never a problem for Connar as his family hand plenty of space for him to run around and plenty of very good climbing trees. But what they did not have were the luscious blackberry brambles. They did have some brambles, but they had picked them clean of any and all berries earlier that season. From his favorite climbing tree near the boundary, he could see far into their neighbor's land and passed the low ridge near the stream, he could see the sprawling blackberry brambles. From even so far away and up so very high, he could see the berries. Sitting there. With only birds and deer to eat them.

The temptation became too great for the adolescent and he decided he was going to go pick a few of them. Not many. Just a few. Besides, Gen was a giant and blackberries were so small to him he would never notice or miss a few of them.

Careful of the thorns, Connar spent a good portion of the mid-morning greedily devoured handfuls of the little black jewels. It was only when he heard the first rumbles of thunder that he decided he had eaten enough and best head home before the storm rolled in. The sky was grey and the clouds thick. It would be a gulley washer for sure.  

He walked behind the thicker part of the bramble, ducking under the foliage and slipping through, when all of a sudden there was a loud snapping sound and the screech of metal springs. The clear path in front of him and the one he had just come through were abruptly blocked by metal bars and the force of them rearing up from beneath the ground debris sent Connar falling back onto his bottom. Under him he could feel the hard bars of metal.

Sitting there for a long moment and listening to the frantic beatings of his own heart, Connar looked around himself as he tried to decipher what it was that had just happened. All at once he understood and he was on his feet at the bars to one of the trap’s doors. He yanked ineffectively at them and when that failed, he began to push. Bracing his feet against one of the bars across the floor, he pressed his back to the trap’s door and pushed as hard as he could. But even then he only managed to move the spring loaded door a few inches before his strength gave out and he fell back down onto the floor, panting and shaking.

He had triggered a game trap; a spring loaded one. Near his feet he could see the trigger plate, hidden beneath more forest debris.

“Oh no…” he got back to his feet and peered out towards the direction of his family’s land. “Daaaaad! Mamaaaaa! Help!”

Only crickets and bird song answered him and before long, the thunder had its own say. A rolling rumble drew across the sky as the wind began to pick up. He felt the first few drops of rain hit his head and looking up through the foliage covering the roof to forest canopy and the swathe of sky visible, he frowned.

“…Mama’s gonna swat me.”

…………………………………….

The worst of the storm passed within an hour, but the rain persisted all morning and into the afternoon. Soaked through and shivering, Connar huddled miserably in the corner of the trap, hoping he would hear his family calling for him so he might call back and maybe his father could think of a way to get him out without alerting their large neighbor to the fact that they’d been trespassing or in Connar’s case, poaching blackberries.  

When he heard the crunch of footsteps, Connar got to his feet and looked back towards his family’s property, hoping to see he father crest the ridge and start yelling at him for worrying him and his mother…but belatedly realized that the foot falls were coming from the other side and were growing louder. Much louder. Until the sound of large boots sounded right next to the trap and through the foliage and brambles obscuring most of his view, Connar could make out a pair of very large feet. And then he heard the giant rumble above him.

“Hm…well ain’t that curious.” Connar edged himself to the farthest corner, staring up as leather clad hands pulled and swept away the vegetation covering the roof of the trap and revealing a greyed and wrinkled face. Brown eyes widened from under thick eyebrows as the giant huffed a short chuckle, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Well, well. Aren’t you a funny looking deer…”  

Connar hunched he shoulders as though he could disappear into himself.

“Now then,” The giant said and raised an eyebrow at him. “You wouldn’t happen to be Arthur’s little boy, would you?”

“Yessir…” Connar replied in a small voice.

Gen’s smile widened and he tapped the metal trap’s roof. “Tell me; how in all the seven hells did you miss seeing this contraption?”

“…it was hidden,” Connar explained, feeling just the smallest sting to his pride as the implied accusation.  

“It’s bright red, son.”

Connar blinked and looked beside him at the metal bars and the green brambles beyond. They looked the same to him. He turned his gaze back up and squinted at Gen, feeling as though perhaps he was playing a trick on him. “They look the same...”

Gen’s amiable expression turned incredulous. “You telling me this…” he tapped the trap again. “…and these…” he brushed a finger through the brambles. “…look the same color to you?”

Connar nodded, but jerked in surprise when Gen abruptly broke out into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Connar demanded, his face feeling hot and his pride feeling more than just a mere sting.

“Hate to tell you this, but I think you might be colorblind.”

“I can see color just fine!”

“Perhaps, but not all of them. At least not all the ones I can see,” the giant explained. “I paint my traps bright red so I can find them easily and also because deer can’t distinguish between the green of the bushes and the red paint. Humans should be able to see them just fine and dandy though. But not you.” He paused as though considering and then grinned. “So I suppose that really does make you a funny looking deer.”

Connar started to glare at giant, but a telling tickle at the back of his nose had him turn his face into the crook of his arm and he sneezed. Gen hummed thoughtfully and asked, “How long have you been stuck in there, son?”

“…a while.”

“And how long is ‘a while’?”

“Since this morning…”

With a resigned shake of his head, Gen sighed. Then, fixing the young boy with a curious, if not slightly amused look, he asked, “Suppose you’ll be wanting outta there, hm?”

“Please...”

“Alright,” he chuckled, slipping off one of his gloves and popping the top of the trap open. Connar felt a little silly for not having thought that the trap opened from above. But he had little time to contemplate as Gen reached inside, but with a deliberate slowness that may have been meant to keep from startling him. Large fingers wrapped around his back, cupping him into the large palm and lifting him up and out of the trap. Gen peered at him with a slight frown. “Boy, you are soaked to the bone.”

“It rained...” he replied. “A lot.”

Gen hummed to himself before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. He then draped it around Connar’s shoulders. “That’ll keep you a tad bit warmer in the meantime,” the giant said and then rose to his feet carefully. “Now let’s get you back to your mother before she starts to worry.”

It didn’t take him any time at all to reach their little house, a handsome little homestead built into the side of a moss covered hill. His father was seated outside on a stool, idly carving a small piece of wood

“Hello there,” his father said, looking up with surprise at Gen approaching.

“Hello Arthur. Apologies for just wandering in,” Gen said and then knelt down to place Connar on his feet. “But I think this one belongs to you.”

His father leapt to his feet and marched over to his son. “Connar! What have you been getting into now? Gen, I am very sorry if my boy’s been bothering you...”

Gen laughed. “Not at all, not at all. Poor little fella had a rough morning though. Got caught in one of my venison cages near the stream. Soaked through and chilled, but otherwise fine. Don’t be too hard on him.”

His father grabbed his shoulder and began to steer him towards the door. “Maria! Come and get your son, please.”

His mother’s head peaked out from the door as she was wiping her hands on her apron and she planted them on her hips upon seeing her son. “Connar, what in the God’s Greenwood have you been doing? You are drenched!”

“Got caught in one of Gen’s venison traps,” his father said, echoing Gen’s explanation. His mother’s hand reached out and snagged his right ear and began to pull him along.

“WHAT?”

As his mother dragged him into their home, he heard Gen laugh and say, “By the way, I think your boy may be colorblind, Arthur.”

…………………….

Connar’s family and Gen remained very good neighbors and for the two years that followed his first meeting with the giant, all seemed well with the world.

And then Vhasshal declared war on Silvaara and their once peaceful lives shattered.

Retribution came swiftly and the first to suffer King Nethrin’s rage were the residents of the Blackwoods. Blue coats hunted at night, torching any human homes they found and capturing any human that came across. People they had known for years disappeared with nothing but the ruined and burned out shells of their homes remaining. Once trustworthy Vhasshalan neighbors became hostile. Though they had not heard or seen Gen, they all assumed he was of a similar mind.

And soon enough, the reckoning came for Connar and his family.

His mother had been struck with a nagging feeling all morning and all but demanded of his father that they leave their homestead that day and hide in their winter storage larder. Just in case. It was an underground cellar that when shut, was indistinguishable from the surrounding mossy rocks. It was secure, it was insulated, and well stocked.  

That night, the blue coats came.

Five of them walked around their homestead, kicking over their cart and trampling Maria’s flowerbeds and smashing in the small windows. Their old pony, their heifer, and her calf were all taken away. And then they set it all on fire. From far off, they watched their lives be devoured by the flames and the smoke rising up into the uncaring sky. The question of what to do lingered heavily.  

His mother wept and though his father tried his best to comfort her, he too had tears in his eyes. Their home had been in the family for seven generations. His grandfather carved the wood that made their bed frames. The quilts had been hand sewn by great aunts. But it all disappeared behind the wall of flames, framed between the voyeuristic silhouettes of the blue coats. Connar and his older sister huddled together near the back of the cellar, listening to the haunting echo of their laughter.

……………..

They were beginning to run low on food and though making soup of what little remained would have stretched it considerably, they could not risk a fire. His mother had feeling poorly for several days and his father did want to leave her side, so Connar was sent out to fetch the water. He wore his dark green tunic and hood so as to better camouflage himself in case any giants were about. He found a quiet bend in the stream that was well hidden by thin limbed trees with thick foliage and uncorked the water sac, submerging the end into the stream and letting the bladder fill with cool clean water. His mind began to wander and he was not as observant as he should have been.

The snapping of a branch brought him back to the present and he looked up and up and into a familiar face he hadn’t seen in months.  

“…Connar?” asked Gen. The giant had been emerging from a cluster of trees just a few yards from the stream, a leather satchel filled with wild vegetation at his side. Upon seeing Connar, his eyes widened and then abruptly narrowed and then he was stepping forward with a purposeful stride down into the stream. Towards Connar. With a squawk of alarm, the human dropped the water sac and ran with Gen bellowing after him. “Stop!”

Not since the day before the war broke out had his family seen or heard anything from Gen. Connar knew from the stories he told him that he used to work at the Vhasshalan castle when he was younger and he spoke highly of King Nethrin often enough that it did not leave any room in his or his family’s mind just what side of the conflict he stood. It hurt his father and him to think that their friend and neighbor would or could do them harm if he found them. Supposedly there were bounties being offered for captured humans to entice those who would otherwise have left any humans they found alone. In that moment, the only thing Connar could think was to lead him away from his family’s hiding spot and hope he was able to lose the giant under the thick brush.  

But as he dove for cover through a thicket, his foot caught and he fell forward and the sound of squealing metal springs echoed around him as the venison trap snapped shut. Connar looked around at the metal bars with a sinking dread.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” He scrambled gracelessly to his feet and looked up just as Gen came into view behind him. He pressed himself against the furthest end of the trap and stared with terrified and bated breath as the giant bore down on him. It was all too familiar and he knew the outcome was going to be drastically different. 

“Connar…”

“I won’t tell you anything!” Connar yelled angrily at his former neighbor. Gods, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. The giant knelt down beside the trap and with one hand, popped the top open. Huffing through his nose and shaking, Connar stared up into Gen’s face.

“Connar,” Gen said breathlessly. He did not reach in for him like Connar had expected. He only stared down at the human youth. “You’re alive…”

“No thanks to you lot!” the boy yelled, angry frustrated tears pooling into his eyes. He couldn’t get the image of his home burning out of his mind.  

Gen flinched at that. “Please, just listen to me…”

“No!”      

“Connar,” he said firmly as he reached inside. Bristling, Connar ran to the other side of the trap, but it was useless. There was nowhere to go that Gen could not reach. He felt thick fingers wrap around his torso and pressed into his belly, pulling him bodily from the corner and up. “Stop that…will you just…”

“No-! Don’t…don’t touch me! Let me go!” He thrashed and squirmed as best he could. He succeeded in shimmying partly out from his tunic, but Gen just tightened his hold and Connar found himself partially dangling from the giant’s grip. His cries for released were muffled by both the fabric of his tunic and Gen’s fingers. His legs bumped up against something as he was planted down atop it, the fingers retreating marginally, but only shifted to lightly hold him. Gen was sitting down against the thick trunk of a tree and had placed Connar onto his knee. For several seconds, neither spoke and were content to study one another. It was only when Connar began to struggle again that Gen spoke.

“I’m not going to hurt you, son.”

“Yeah, sure. You’re just gonna give me to the blue coats and let them do it!”

“I would never…”

“Liar!”

“Would you shut your gob for one minute and listen to me, dammit?”

“What is there to say?” Connar demanded, his voice cracking. “We’re at war. And your King wants us all dead. We didn’t do anything!”

“I know. I know…”

“Then why? Why is this happening?” he demanded, but his voice was softer. More pleading. “We didn’t do anything…”

“I don’t understand either. I don’t know,” Gen said, looking down, with a visibly anguished expression. “But that man is not the same King I remember. The one who I loyally served for all those years. The man I knew was a just and kind man. Whatever he’s become…he is not my King. It seems that he died along with Prince Thadeus. And now some demon wears his face.”

For a long while, they did not speak and Connar took a moment to study his neighbor’s face. He looked so much older than the last time he had seen him. “…they burned our house...”

Gen nodded. “I know. I went to look for you all and found what was left. Gods…I thought for sure you’d been inside when…or that they took you.” He looked into Connar’s eyes, moisture pooling under them as he said in a hoarse voice, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s happened. What’s happening. Everyone’s lost their fucking minds. The world’s gone mad and...” He shook his head and sighed deeply. “You aren’t hurt none?”

“No.”

“And your folks? Your sister? Are they…alive?”

“…yes.”

“Thank the Gods!” He said, falling back against the trunk and looking up into the canopy of trees above. “Blessed Mother, thank you.”

Connar shifted and was surprised when the fingers around him pulled back. No longer holding him, but merely cupping his back. “You…you’re not…you don’t hate us?”

“Why would I?” Gen asked. “You didn’t kill the Prince, did you?”

Connar glared at him. “Of course not!”

“Then I have no reason to hate you or wish ill upon you. Or your family. I’m your friend, Connar. That at least has not changed.”

He wanted very desperately to believe Gen. If the giant did wish harm on him, why go through the pretense of making him believe otherwise? “I…I…”

“Listen to me, Connar,” Gen said before he could finish his thought and carefully scooped Connar up and placed him on his feet. “I’m gonna let you go. And you’re going to go back to your folks. Tell your father…tell Arthur that I can help. I want to help. The rangers are upping their patrols. Vhasshal is using the road only a few miles from here to transport their men into Silvaara. It isn’t safe for you all to be out here. I can protect you. Hide you. Please. Tell him.”

Struck dumb, Connar fumbled for a reply before finally nodding.

“All right,” he said with a tired nod. “I will wait near the south end of my property. If you don’t show up by sundown, I will know my answer and I won’t bother you again. I can understand…I do understand why you would not believe me. But I hope you will. I hope these passed years of friendship mean as much to you all as it has for me.”

…………………………………….

His father’s face was hard as stone and his sister wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Did he follow you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Arthur reached out and grabbed his son’s hand. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” Connar said. “He…he looked really sad. And…he was crying. I think he was telling the truth.”

“But can we risk it?” his sister, Penny asked. “Maybe he just wants you to bring us all to him. For a bigger payout. They probably already gave our land to him.”

For a long time, Arthur did not speak. Heavy in thought he stared at the ground, at the cellar they’d made their home and to his children. His ill wife. Their all but used supplies.

“Dad?” Connar asked. “What do we do?”

…………………………….

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Gen said, relief clear on his face. But only Arthur stood before the giant in the small clearing at the furthest point of where his land met that of another one of their shared neighbors; a human couple who had disappeared soon after the war had begun. Connar, his sister, and mother were all back inside a thicket several yards away, hiding and waiting for Arthur’s signal.

“I do value our friendship, Gen. Which is why I’m taking this risk and hoping to the fucking Gods you aren’t lying,” Arthur slowly stepped closer, never tearing his eyes from Gen, “I’m weighing my life, my wife’s life and the lives of my children on your word.”

Gen did not move as Arthur approached.

“Marie’s been ill all this passed week,” Arthur said, tight jawed. “With the yellow reap.”

“I have medicine,” Gen quickly offered, his face slipping into concern and worry and it did not go unnoticed by Arthur.

“You would risk your own health like that?”

“Maria is a kind woman. A good mother. And my friend. As are you,” Gen replied. “Of course I would risk it.”

Arthur nodded, the hard steel of his face melting into abject relief and when he met Gen’s gaze again, it was with tears in his eyes. “I am so very glad to hear that. Because we need your help. Desperately.”

Telling a story through colour can be just as effective as telling one through music. Associating it with characters, themes and feelings can tell a sublime, subliminal story. I should have a think about what colours I want to associate with what. Red = blood. It will barely ever appear, so when it does, it will stand out. Put it on the slaver dude that you forgot the name of. All RGB colours seem to be associated with outsiders, whereas CYMK seems to be with the familiar (the main characters). But then what about purple and white? Perhaps use them to suggest the unfamiliar and even creepy; use them on characters and locations that are creepy and mysterious. Perhaps the end of the beyond and many places in it that aren't already inhabited by spirits (since those have their own themes). Note: the main character is glowing white with black hair. Use this to represent the duality of their path (multiple choice) and the different personalities they have, but also to show that they are also an outsider to this world, like the player. Perhaps if or when they reach the end of the beyond it will be black and white, like they are. Another idea: leave the player with different coloured objects of significance to the people melded with their soul. If red is danger, green could be danger from within, like a poison. (Aka the character who betrays you. Unrelated note: souls, when absorbed into the body, flow through it like blood, as noru says. Or someone else, maybe, either way. This is why they are able to disappear into the body. The protag glows white because they have such an intense amount, and it runs through them, giving them headaches and memory problems and nausea like soul clusters do, and straining them like high blood pressure. Back to colour: also use it whenever the protag decides to kill an animal or person, either by an item reward or actual blood (maybe make alien blood another colour and use the items for them, but red blood for human/sentient characters?) Make the angel people use blue and yellow, and make their temples white but not their houses or people. In fact, make anything religious white. White is mystery and uncertainty, and who can claim to know God is real? (note: maybe make a note you find say '--and who can claim to know God is real?' and have the author be surnamed white or something similar.) What about yellow and magenta? Magenta is caelin's colour and she represents passion, rebellion, righteous anger, so the locations it's prominent in should reflect those traits. Maybe when entering a scene or area where something rebellious is about to happen, make things more magenta. There could be a secret rebel place in the angel planet with magenta crystals growing around it instead of yellow. Maybe a signal for the rebellion is a magenta handkerchief. Maybe the green angel who betrays you might at one point mistakenly give you a red handkerchief instead of magenta to symbolise that she's not really with the cause. Yellow? Yellow is ambition, greed, royalty. Yellow can be blinding sometimes. But I'm not sure if that suits icarus, since though he is ambitious, he is not rich or greedy. He is powerful physically, however. So maybe yellow could come to represent power. Keep in mind that though their planet is smaller its landscape is strong against the winds. (maybe make that last bit a snippet of text too.) Then what is blue? Serin is blue. It represents calmness, tranquility, but also sadness. And maybe also the feeling of being trapped? Maybe use it in scenes where npcs have been captured in some way, and in the slave pens. Perhaps it also represents eternal life in some way. The souls are blue. Actually, just life in general, considering the fauna of colossus are blue in their stems and leaves. Red could mean danger whereas blue could mean safety security but also imprisonment, which plays with the theme of rebelling but knowing you'll be in even more danger than you were when you were trapped. Or perhaps the safety is an illusion as well? ('--Water gives life and yet you drown in it' -- Also works with the slaves and their association with water, and maybe the Atlantis rebellion who are all sort of trapped underwater now. Note: maybe the Atlantis rebellion is just a sect of caelin's rebellion, or at least a sect of where her rebellion has been as they travel around. Maybe make her rebellious locations have blue in them as well as red. Note: maybe make a distinction between dark blue and cyan, C and B. Dark blue could be trapped, light blue could be calm. Perhaps Serin is darker blue whenever he feels blue, and/or maybe when he wakes up from Vektor killing him. Note: make Vektor's products and logos dark red and white, and their labcoats white and purple, and make her have bright red hair. This is the uncertainty and danger thing. Note: Have X be in this, and on some route or maybe most or all, have them be a sort of living vessel of the 'red is danger' metaphor; have them be around before bad things happen, and have them give a warning before the rebellion base is nuked. Perhaps also make them look like one of the suspects for the betrayal, only for them to be a literal red herring. Have them refer to themselves as a messenger before their warning in some way. Scene idea: the protag is left a note by X signed as the messenger, and as they go into the next screen, they briefly see their sprite. That, or they just put the note in the protag's hands before walking away. Maybe this depends on your choices: if you're in more danger, you see more of them. The other colours, like orange, burgundy, brown, grey... Maybe normalcy? Maybe regular civilians dress in mostly those colours. Maybe most humans, anyway. On the nexus? No, that wouldn't match the colour scheme. Black seems to be a pretty neutral colour here. Hmm. Note: because of the green = betrayal association I may need to make caelin blue. Or her skin grey and eyes blue. Maybe Serin can have the opposite... Hmm. Blue grey skin, blue hair, red eyes? No, red eyes would have dangerous connotations. Maybe just change according to events in the story. Or the seasons! Blue in the summer, orange in autumn, white in winter. Black in death? Maybe. If it symbolises his character development. Actually, if we give caelin chameleon-like abilities, she can change with the seasons too. Maybe magenta hair the whole time and grey skin, but her markings change colour (I don't want to get rid of the hair)? They could be magenta in the summer, purple in autumn, blue in winter, to symbolise how she feels trapped because her efforts aren't having any long-term consequences and she's running out of time and energy. Serin's colour changes could change depending on his allegiance. He feels sad and trapped (blue), then begins to cheer up (orange) and then some bad shit happens and he isn't himself any more (perhaps when he's hacked by Vektor), so white. Maybe shortly before then it could actually not be white but could be turquoise, like the water on colossus. Or maybe it's properly cyan by that time, since cyan has different connotations than blue. In fact, maybe he goes from dark, desaturated blue to a light cyan both to symbolise getting happier and also because he starts to fit in with the rest of the group. (also, maybe if somehow he becomes more distant due to player choices, it gets darker until it's black). Maybe any other colour changes are on other elements of him like freckles and glasses and clothing. Maybe icarus could change colours too, but slower and more subtly than the rest, since he is an angel even if he can't shapeshift or colour change.