Numbered and Factions

Chapter 17

 The daughter of a serial killer, she never knew him well but the blood is what people care about. An encounter with that man is what changed her life, as well as her best friend's life. An alleyway, a gun, a woman, her father, a crystal, and fire.

Fire, flames, ashes, dust. Fur flickering with light as she stood there, screaming into the flaming air. She didn't know what she had become, all she knows is fire. Flames dancing around, tickling her face harmlessly, her voice shrill and loud. She falls over from panic and exhaustion.

She wakes in a warehouse, her friend lying to her left with a bandaged leg. Two women with bizarre features stand talking in the background, one with flaming orange hair looks over and smiles. The rest is history.

***

Kit sits curled over herself on her bed, gripping a pillow close to her chest. Her mind races over what that man said.

Why was the fire natural? It shouldn't come like that. Why... Who am I? Am I a demon like they've told me? Will I hurt the others? Is this going to happen again?.. Will they hate me?

Someone knocks on the door, scaring her.

"Kit? Its Storm" his voice is assuring and familiar.

"Come in.." she grips the pillow tighter for a moment, raising her head to look at the door. Storm opens the door and walks over, he sits on the edge of the bed. Kit looks at him, green eyes glinting in the dim lights. Storm puts a hand on her head with a slight smile, she stares at him.

"What's the defeated look for?" his voice is concerned yet neutral,

"I don't know" she paws a bit at her pillow,

"Something happened didn't it"

"I don't want to talk about it"

"You know I'm not just going to leave you here Klara,"

"You know not to call me that anymore"

"It's not a deadname or anything, it's still legal"

"Would you rather I call you Gunner?"

"No, but.."

"Then don't call me Klara."

Storm brushes his hair back and sighs, his posture is loose and calm.

"This doesn't mean I'm not worried about you, I know somethings up" he looks at her,

"That crazy bloodhound..." Kit looks at the ceiling, she clutches that pillow a bit tighter.

"Was it about your dad?"

"Yeah, he was trying to force me to tell him we were... related"

"Does that really mean anything? I'm not my father and you are not your father,"

"Your dad at least has respect and isn't a murderer."

"Ok and? You aren't your mother either,"

"I'd rather be her than him"

"Wouldn't everyone,"

Kit puts her arms around Storm and leans on him, her body is lighter than it looks. Storm holds her back.

***

These two are something alright, maybe they're in love, maybe they're not. They grew up together and now are stuck together. There's an odd link between them, fire and lightning don't really go together. Yet here they are. A fox and a wolf, usually seen as enemies of good and friends of evil. Now here they are, fighting for unknown and a muddy cause. One may wonder how they'll continue on.

***

Anbu sits up on a billboard staring down at a festival. Lights coat the place in a multicolored sheen as tents buzz with people carrying goods and foods, some drinking alcohol, others odd drink mixes. Some have outfits that really prioritize covering their necks, others dressed racy and ravey. Children run around with their friends causing all sorts of ruckus and chaos for their parents. Large food trucks with exorbitantly long lines sit on the edge of the festival, a band plays on the stage at the end. It's loud enough the billboard shakes with the beat of the drums.

They stand and walk along the sign, hopping down onto the rooftop to peer down. Eyes scanning the area for a specific man. They hop down and run along the wall to stay in the shadows. Anbu hits the ground and blends in with the crowd, they keep themself small and low. A few children run up to them.

"Are you a clown?!" one yells, Anbu straightens and stares at them with the mask's eyes dark. The kid yells again,

"Fox clown! Do a dance!" they exclaim and hop around them. Anbu turns away only to be grabbed by the tail with a tug.

"I'll tell my daddy you clown! Now dance" The little kid's hands are slimy and stick into their fur. Anbu pulls their tail away with their hands, brushing it out. The kid walks up to them angrily,

"Dance!"

Anbu glances around, it wouldn't be wise to pull anything with all the people. And god knows who this kid is. They do a little hop skip and blend back in with the crowd, getting away for now at least. They slip by the food lines and to a small bench, they sit down and brush thier tail out a bit more, pulling sticky clumps of fur out. They sigh and scratch at thier arms. They look at the people passing by, and that snot nosed kid.

Anbu stands and walks to a back alley with faster feet, the kid starts running after them. Anbu hops up on a fire escape, sticking to it with thier feet upside down. The kid looks at them,

"Spider fox clown!"

Anbu growls quietly, debating their options.

"Come down and dance!"

Anbu hops down and takes the kid's shoulder, they drop the skeletal jaw and state at the kid with their eyes glowing. The kid is unphased and starts laughing,

"What a cool costume!"

Anbu coses their mouth and stares at them as they step back, usually that kind of thing works. Who's damn kid is this?.. Anbu gets back and slips off into the alley, the kid keeps following them. Anbu turns on their heel and growls with their three tails fluffing out.

"Leave me... alone..." Anbu's voice is raspy and hoarse,

"You can talk!"

"I said.. LEAVE." Anbu barks, their jaw clicks against the skull under the mask.

"Not until you dance!"

Anbu stares at them, their jaw clicks against the skull, they growl louder. The kid steps towards them, Anbu growls and snarls. This child has a deathwish or something.

Anbu steps back more, growling. The kid stands there, pulling a small phone from his pocket. There's the sound of footsteps, Anbu snarls at the kid and turns to run. The footsteps lead to voices, "Where's the kid? Where's that Numbered?". The kid stands there smiling as a small group of adults with weapons rounds the alley corner. Anbu snarls and hops up to the wall to stick to it.

They're struck in the arm by something, they fall with grace and growl. The group aims at them with little haste. They're cornered, their arm is limp and not moving. They snarl and growl. A man steps through them, long flowing lotus vines and flowers drape from his head as his hair. Sharp features, pointed eyes, a neutral expression.

"Well look who came here," the man's voice is calm and cold. Anbu growls and stances to fight.

"Don't even try it" the man aims a pistol at them, the vines from his head wrap around his arm loosely. Anbu cries out, the noise of a devil. Windows rattle as a crow or two flies off. Anbu bears claws in one hand and charges ahead, the man fires dead on thier chest.