delinquents

I - Nishamera

The delinquents strayed close to the edge of the clearing, one crouching behind the grassy shroud, her mauve eyes glittering through the ferns. But nobody noticed. Nobody noticed even the slight reflection of the dancing fire off of the delinquent's hunting knife, stained with the rust-colored blood of the opposers.

That was what they called them. Opposers.

The anti-delinquents were laughing down in the hollow, stopping only to get themselves a big glass of whiskey or to jump away from the flares of fire that strayed from the bundle of sticks and stones they'd used to rouse it. A few of them had scattered away from the fire, just sitting on wooden logs settled beside their sleeping tents.

Sleeping tents, the mauve-eyed delinquent thought, her lips curving into a smirk. She shifted her grip on the hunting knife. It'll be their deathbed.

The other delinquent stayed silent, her silver eyes glittering in the darkness under her full-face respirator. A quiver of arrows was slung over her shoulder, and even as she watched the anti-delinquents that she'd been tasked to kill below, her expression hardened.

It wasn't going to be about selecting the victim, she thought. Her finger tightened on the nock, her glove scraping against the string, threatening to release the arrow it held. It was going to be a massacre. A bloodbath.

And they would all remember her name.

"Nishamera," said the silver-eyed delinquent irritably. "Is it about time?" I want this to be over, her mind screamed. Her fingers twitched and released the arrow, sending it falling with a soft thud to the earth.

"Not quite," Nishamera answered, choosing her words carefully. Her eyes glittered in the soft firelight, painting her skin in vivid tones of orange and red, and even as the neramirs crowed overhead, signaling nightfall, she knew he was coming. He always did. He was never late for the slaughter.

"Then when will it start? Is Utheus coming or not?" The delinquent grumbled something to herself and picked up the arrow, sliding it back in the nock of her bow. "He's never usually this late."

Nishamera internally cringed. "Well he... told the Collective he'd need someone to stage a distraction. Just for flair. You know him." She shifted her stance just to keep her mind away from the delinquent's sure reaction. "He brought Mahdyessus with him."

The delinquent narrowed her eyes. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"Well he's coming anyway, Myrror," Nishamera hissed, and then motioned for her to quiet. Myrror's braid thumped against her back as she moved swiftly down to the ground, another arrow ready in her hand. "Shh. I think I see them coming."

And so she was right. Two figures moved into the clearing, sliding down from the leafy canopy of the trees with strings. Strings of magic, woven together as a barrier to gravity, letting the two land with a soft thump on the ground.

The moment the opposers saw Utheus, they started screaming.

"Miss me?" A smirk played on his lips, and then Mahdyessus, the smaller yet still noticeable figure beside him, raised his hand in the air as a calling. He shouted something inaudible, but instantaneously all the openings to the hollow sealed shut with a crack and a burst of green light. That was his power. Earthcraft.

Utheus twisted his arm to the side and the anti-delinquents a meter in front of him dropped to the ground, dead. That was Nishamera's cue. She slid down the ground into the hollow, her knife already at someone's throat. She looked at the anti-delinquent, a smile playing on her lips. "Good night," she hissed, and slit the man's neck. He dropped to the ground, blood flowing from his neck in rapid bursts, and then the people started running. But of course, Mahd had already planned for that. The tunnels were closed, and there was nowhere for them to run.

Myrror held her bow up high in the air, and let the arrow fly. It exploded with a crack of lightning, illuminating the hollow with a brief blue glow, but yet they were all staring at her. Transfixed by the magic of hypnosis Myrror had. Even then, the silver-eyed delinquent had an odd expression on her face. Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was fear. But whatever it was, Nishamera didn't have the chance to know, because Myrror started speaking, and the people in the clearing were listening. But they couldn't do anything to resist.

"Where are your leaders?" she snarled. "Where are Lunae and Nocturne?"

Just like that, the people parted, leaving two of them in the center, stranded. And yet they were different.

The one called Lunae was swathed with flowing white fabrics, with a gold bangle around both wrists. Her eyes were pure, shifting blue, and on her face was a blank yet furious expression, her brows furrowed with anger.

Nocturne was even more different. Folded behind his back was a pair of raven's wings, which Nishamera could've guessed were bigger than three whole sleeping tents combined. He wasn't transfixed by Myrror's hypnosis. He only stood there, blinking, looking as if he were ready to accept whatever fate he would come to have.

Myrror lowered her bow, and Lunae began to move. Her mouth curved into a scowl, and she swung her hand behind her back, summoning a six-feet-long rapier that crackled with golden light. Nocturne rested his hand on her arm, and she stepped back, still scowling.

"You do know what you've done to our society, right?" Nishamera asked, and flicked her hunting knife, turning it into a mace. "So now you must pay."

Mahd looked like an excited little child, his glowing green eyes brighter than the fire itself. Utheus's hand was on his back, stilling him until it was time.

Nocturne spat at the ground. "I only know that I've undone the wrongdoing of a rebellious organization," he snarled. He reached out to the sky and brought back down a scythe made of darkness.

And that is where it all began.