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Non-Canon Cold Days

Discussion in 'Side Story Archives' started by Blacksmith, Jan 16, 2018.

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  1. Blacksmith

    Blacksmith Tonight, we hunt Outsiders!

    Two Weeks after the events of War Stories.

    For the sixteenth time, Lucifer tugged at his collar. Give him plagues, locusts, daemons and other such nightmares any day of the week. But the moment he slips on an outfit like this, the subsequent itch around the collar made the priest long for the sheer honesty of people shooting at him. But these were different times and he was no longer a stilettto for the missions he once accepted. Going freelancer meant taking responsibility for everything and not just the relatively, violent periods of time such as Montressor Spaceport two weeks ago.

    Every bullet had to be calculated and budgeted- ammunition, specialized ammunition wasn't cheap after all. There was pure silver to stock, promethium to obtain and process, runic workmanship that seemed better suited to artists than weaponsmiths. Equipment needed to be in working order, his tech priests placated by the items needed for their ritualistic performances. Considering the heavy thaumic-centric battle zones, he erred on the side of caution.

    Then there was transportation, fuel costs and living supplies, morale, raw materials for the Forge. The list went on and as he worked these ends and many more, he returned to an ancient saying.

    If you couldn't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined. This was the fruits of his resignation from the splintered factions he once worked for. Corrupted, discordant-and now? Turned to a direction that while more pro-active, did so by the lead of figures that made him wary. A quartet of four people under chess monikers, two of which he knew.

    Dr. Akagi. Scientist of dubious standing. Willing to manipulate to get her way, regardless of the cost. Fractured as the Coalition may had been, she had certainly sped it to its demise. The White Queen.

    Big Boss. In his line of work, the reputation of the soldier were campfire tales. Lucifer was a hunter, it's how he thought and fought. He ran down his quarry and it was more or less, a singular occupation. Big Boss thought on a wider scale, his aid would prove useful no doubt to the new ODMA. The Black King.

    The identities of the Black Queen and the White Queen were unknown to him for now. But it wasn't a particular important topic, in comparison to others concerning the wider multiverse. If they truly wished to help, then good. But he would not shirk his self-appointed tasks. So long as there were evil men and woman, he would continue his cleaner role to stop them.

    Just... On his own terms now.

    And with more help than he expected. He had been prolific in his work and had shook hands with all sorts. From petty criminals to militant figures, this gave him a network forged from favors and friendships.

    And that was why he was wearing a tuxedo, a leg brace over his left leg and a cane in hand. The silver wolf head snarled in a frozen visage, the green tinted contacts obscuring his eyes. Soft music played, the harp player gently weaving her art as animal-eared Humanoids briskly walked back and forth in waiter outfits.

    This was not the first time he had come to Remnant. But it was the first time he found himself here, in the nicest restaurant in Atlas. It made for an entirely different form of discomfort, compared to the first time around. It was relaxing and peaceful though, in regards to atmosphere.

    If only the menu prices didn't gouge him worse than any Grimm he'd fought yet, he might have been relaxing too. (T_T)

    @Pretentious Pineapple
    Takumi and Pretentious Pineapple like this.
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