Post by Loogs on Jan 1, 2022 2:06:43 GMT -5
First off, if you're somehow reading this, hi and thanks for checking in on this little ghost town. I'm miserable and lonely Everything is just fine
Yes, there's at least some of us who still write, but we mostly archive it in Google Docs these days. I'm putting this here in case someone randomly decides to check in on us. It's just a fluff fanfic piece featuring Hector, Jonas, and Rie, in what I called the Beach Episode in its working stages, because, well, just read it and see for yourself. It's kind of a first draft too so if you have feedback let me know.
Yes, there's at least some of us who still write, but we mostly archive it in Google Docs these days. I'm putting this here in case someone randomly decides to check in on us. It's just a fluff fanfic piece featuring Hector, Jonas, and Rie, in what I called the Beach Episode in its working stages, because, well, just read it and see for yourself. It's kind of a first draft too so if you have feedback let me know.
Hector leaned over the railing on the deck to fully appreciate the view of the gleaming coastline of Ebisupolis, the sparkling pearl of southern Tengaishima, where a picturesque beach and some choice seafood—not to mention the hot locals and their exquisite beach bods—awaited him. It would be the perfect bachelor getaway before his upcoming trip to Japan with his daughter Pleiades for her first summer vacation—or, well, a winter vacation really, as he explained to her after a brief science lesson on how the Earth’s hemispheres experience seasons differently. Anyway, only a matter of time before he’d be spending the weekend soaking up sun with a cool mai tai in his hand.
Upon docking at the harbor, Hector stepped off the boat and set foot on the pier. He inhaled, savoring the scent of the salty air with sweet notes of freshly caught fish, and realized he had forgotten the joys of no-strings-attached leisure traveling; it felt wonderful to take in a locale’s indulgences without the looming specter of work or the duties of fatherhood once in a while. Beyond ready to finally have nothing but fun for a change, he skipped down the dock with a carefree grin on his face when he passed by a large, bearded stranger staring in the direction of the Shahrazad.
The stranger whistled. “‘S a fine lookin’ vessel y’ got there, son,” he remarked, without taking his eyes off the ship.
At first, Hector didn’t register that this man was talking to him. But after he noted that: one, he was the most recent arrival in the harbor; two, the man was, in fact, admiring his ship; and three, that he did belong to the demographic of people who would be addressed as “son”; he stopped walking and acknowledged this guy.
“Oh, uh, thanks, she’s the, uh, love of my life, I guess you could say.” Tragically, it was only after the fact that Hector realized what a sad, pathetic first impression this response would make. (“The love of my life”? Really? Might as well have opened with “Hi, my name is Hector and I’m desperate for a relationship with someone!”)
He definitely wasn’t expecting the stranger’s next words. “Then I’d say that’s a helluva holy matrimony y’ve found yerself in there, laddie!” The burly man burst into a boisterous belly laugh. “I ain’t seen a honest-to-god, wooden, sailin’ ship in years! Heck, don’t think I ever seen one in m’navy days, come t’ think of it!”
“So you’re a man of the sea too, huh?” Hector asked, his apprehension rapidly dissolving away in the presence of this jolly old giant.
“Ah, well, used ‘ta be, but m’ mariner days’re behind me now. Lookin’ at you n’ yer boat, though, son, gotta say it really takes me back to them good ol’ times!” The man slapped a meaty hand on Hector’s shoulder. “Say, what’s yer name, boy?”
“It’s—” That half second pause was spent processing the fact that this guy was tall enough to slap a hand on his shoulder. “—Hector. Hector Celeste-Shahrazad. And that, back there, is said Shahrazad.”
“Good t’ meet ya, Hector, son!” The stranger patted him on the back a few times, but really, the word ‘patted’ implied there was little force applied in the motion, when actually the gesture nearly sent Hector tumbling off the pier and into the water. “Name’s Jonas! Jonas Caliban, but yeh c’n jes’ call me Jonas!”
“Nice to—” Hector wheezed and paused to regain the breath that just got knocked out of him, “—meet you too, Jonas, uh, so—cough—so are you a local?”
“Nah, but been here ‘nuff times that’m thinkin’ o’ becomin’ one! Say, y’got any plans this weekend, son? I know all th’ good places, n’ I got this perfect spot on the beach I know yer gonna love! Two o’clock tomorrow, meet me right ‘ere on th’ docks, whaddya say?”
“Uh, well, a-actually I kinda, um—” Hector stuttered, already taking a glance and a few slow steps back in the direction of his boat, fishing for a polite translation for ‘Tomorrow I have plans to get totally sloshed by the shore with some local hotties and get my wet dick even wetter by sundown,’ but before he could offer one, Jonas interjected.
“Oh, and I‘d be bringin’ a friend of mine along, too. Think she’s ‘bout yer age, ‘m sure you ‘n her’d get along jes’ fine!”
Hector stopped walking and turned around to face Jonas, opening his mouth again to speak more clearly this time.
“...Two in the afternoon tomorrow, you said?”
“Yep, on this ‘ere dock, that’s right, lad!”
“Yeah, I… I thiiiiink I can make some room in my schedule, then.”
Sure enough, around 2 PM the next day, Jonas was there waiting for him patiently on the pier. Hector joined him, looking fully prepared to spend a day out by the ocean—of course, wearing nothing but a pair of snug swim shorts, neon blue printed with a wave motif, a pair of Wayfarers in coral pink, and a weathered blue canvas backpack carrying the essentials; specifically, bottles of liquor and mixer, disposable cups, and a towel, along with some junk like a change of clothes and other things he probably wouldn’t actually need, in his humble opinion.
“There y’ are, son!” Jonas bellowed, his arms akimbo, dressed in a striped tank and tan cargo shorts. He scanned Hector’s appearance, and upon his gaze reaching the swim trunks, let out a hearty guffaw. “Don’t like t’ leave much t’ th’ imagination, huh, boy?”
Hector simply shrugged; he knew exactly what Jonas was implying. “I mean, when you got the goods, why not share ‘em from time to time?” he laughed in response, but still blushing all the same. Literal BDE may be considered a cheap, easy form of validation, but confidence was confidence—and it wasn’t like he didn’t have other sources of it to draw from, right? How could anyone possibly be insecure when they have the body of a Greek god and a drop dead gorgeous face with boyish charm? Personality can come later; it was amazing how sex appeal could buy you precious time like that.
“That’s th’ spirit! Lookin’ at you, lad, almost makes m’ wish I were young ‘n spry again. Enjoy it while yeh can, I say!” Jonas said as they began their trek across the beach.
Hector rolled his eyes. “Pfft, you’re tellin’ me. Oh, right, so, I don’t know if it was, like, BYOB or not, but—” He lifted up the large cases of beer he was carrying in both hands, “—brought some of my own anyway, since, quite frankly, even if you do have drinks to share, it probably won’t be enough, and I wanna make sure everyone’s good, not just me. Didn’t have any food to bring, but I am more than willing to pitch in for that too, if it comes to that—”
“Relax, son!” Jonas interrupted, administering another clap of the shoulder that Hector had to brace himself for this time, lest he drop the cargo he was lugging around. “If yeh c’n hold yer liquor n’ yeh got a healthy appetite, then I think yer gonna find yerself ‘n some great company, hah!”
Hector snorted and shook his head. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you, bud.”
The weather was pleasant; the radiant sun reigned alone in its throne in the azure sky, and the air was filled with a gentle ocean breeze agreeable to folks who were eager to get away from it all and relax. On their way to the spot, they had to navigate around a teeming throng of tourists in bright summer colors, frolicking in the surf, dancing across the brilliant white sands, enjoying each other’s company under wide parasols with chilly drinks in their hands. As they passed by this energetic melange of moving bodies, Hector pondered over where exactly Jonas had staked his claim on the shore during Ebi’s peak holiday season.
At the same time, he was also attempting guesses at where it was, based on any solitary young women he spotted in the crowd. There was the petite freckled redhead snapping selfies against the backdrop of the crashing waves, but a second later, she had her arm around a stockily-built man in black-and-white board shorts. They walked past a tall blonde beauty of a woman rummaging through a duffle bag, the contents of which, Hector concluded after a cursory glance, must have surely put her in square violation of any firearm statute outlined by the city council. Then there was the curvy one with the cropped blue hair with whom he was hoping to get acquainted, until she started throwing out battle cries and practicing her kung fu or something. By this point, they had traveled for so long that the groups were steadily dropping off in density, and when they reached a rising coastal cliff that seemingly marked the end of the beach, Jonas led him around its face until they arrived at the banks of a sleepy cove, secluded from all the noise and the chaos of people.
Jonas’s camp was all set up neatly for the day: two umbrellas, three chairs with a couple extra folded up and propped up next to one of three large coolers, some miscellaneous beach paraphernalia, and fishing gear. If something in the picture looked paradoxical to the idea of seaside fun, it was the woman with the short blonde hair sitting quietly with her arms crossed in the beach chair, her most striking feature being the amount of visible scars latticing the surface of her exposed legs. From the waist down, in only her green bikini bottom and a pair of flip-flops, she was here to party. Her other half, nestled in an oversized gray hoodie, was only here out of obligation and would only be partaking in beer while she ignored you to pet the house cats.
Needless to say, she wasn’t the young woman Hector had in mind when Jonas mentioned his friend. But he knew it didn’t mean he couldn’t have a good time. It was just a matter of effectively breaking the ice.
“Hey, um, hi.” Hector waved and set down his cases of beer to hold out his hand to the woman. “My name’s Hector, and I…”
But she didn’t accept his handshake offer. She hadn’t even uncrossed her arms. Instead, she leaned forward and began to study his toned calves, his firm thighs, the collage of ink patterning the skin—a nautical star here, a flaming sword there—analyzing every last one.
“So, uh, what’s…”
The woman worked her way up to hip level, where her eyes widened and fixed themselves on the prominent contour outlined by his tight swim shorts.
“My eyes are up here.”
She cocked her head, squinting, still scrutinizing the shape, but she wasn’t smiling or even smirking.
“Like, way up here.”
Slowly rising, she moved on to his chiseled abs, examining so closely he swore she was about to trace the creases between his muscles with the tip of her nose. The woman stroked her chin with one hand and followed the lines of the image of the Shahrazad tattooed over his broad chest with the calloused finger on the other.
“Okay, I get it, you’re—”
It was when she got to his arms that she showed any sign of being impressed: Hector watched her raise an eyebrow, and without warning, encircle his enormous, rippling right bicep with both hands, giving it a firm squeeze.
“Are you… checking me out or sizing me up?!”
This comment appeared to have provoked the young woman, because she suddenly slammed a fist into his ribs with a quick hook.
“AUGH FUCK—what the fuck is the matter with you?” Hector groaned, doubled over, that handshake hand now protecting the tender, stinging area of the hit.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. The woman turned away and crossed her arms again, her head slightly hung. “It was the second one, for what it’s worth.” And after a significant pause, she added, “Name’s Rie, by the way.”
“Charmed, really.” He collapsed into a chair after retrieving one of his beers to drink and use as a makeshift ice pack on the bruise spilling across his side. After cracking it open, he glanced over to Rie, who had returned to her seat but was still facing away from him. “Hey, uh… You thirsty? Want a beer?”
In a distinctly mechanical mien, Rie wheeled around and stuck out an open hand in his direction, saying nothing in response.
“I guess I’ll take that as a yes.” Hector produced another bottle from the case and placed it into Rie’s roughened palm. She was already making to drink from it before he even had a chance to offer her the bottle opener. “Hey, hold on, they’re not twist-offs, use the—”
“Don’t need it.”
And then Hector watched as she stabbed the neck of the bottle into a visual distortion forming around her stomach, draining the amber liquid out of it in seconds. Just as casually as she had consumed the beer, she disposed of it by removing the empty bottle out of her innards, and tossing it to the ground. She reclined back in her chair, and after a few seconds, a smirk formed on her blank face.
“Hmph. Lagers, huh? It’s a crisp one. And there’s some extra punch in it, too. I’d say I should take it slower than usual, except I know I won’t.”
“Well, there’s plenty, so... h-help yourself?” Hector took a nonchalant swig of his beer and glanced over to Jonas, who was laughing at the exchange in the audience while he moved all the drinks into one of the coolers. “You got any snacks, Jonas?”
“‘Course we do! Food’ll be in ‘ere, take as much as y’ like,” Jonas said, gesturing to the other cooler at Rie’s side. Hector flipped it open and rummaged around the glistening ice for something good. He hadn’t noticed that Rie had joined in too, until their fingers both clasped around the last ice cream sandwich left inside.
They both stared at each other.
“Fight you for it,” Rie grunted, squeezing the snack—and his fingers—tighter.
“I—Wh-what?” Hector sputtered in frustration, strengthening his grip in retaliation. “Hell no, I got to it first!”
“Hmph. Coward. You’re just too afraid to lose, aren’t y...” Rie trailed off in the middle of her defiant taunt, her gaze traveling from the ice cream over to Hector’s uninjured side, the one that bore the three jagged, parallel scars nestled within the lines and shading of a coiled serpent tattoo. With a strange onset of urgency, and without letting go of the ice cream, she jabbed a finger into the disfiguration.
“That. Where did you get that.”
“What, this?” Also without letting go, Hector ran the fingers of his free hand over the scar. “Got it a long time ago defending the mother of my kid from the claws of a, uh... ferocious, shapeshifting beast…? But what’s that got to do with—”
“It was Natalie, wasn’t it?”
Hector inhaled sharply, eyes widening in shock. His brain was too busy processing the overload of thoughts and emotions that had just been dredged up to the surface, his lips pursed too taut for a verbal reply, so he could only nod slowly in response.
“I knew it. I know Nat’s handiwork when I see it.” Rie unzipped her hoodie halfway, revealing an identical scar running across her toughened pectoral up to her clavicle. Hector thought he heard her huff out a throaty chuckle as she met his eyes with a steely glint, and ramped up the pressure in her grasp to white-knuckle levels. “And if you can throw down with Nat and come out of it alive, then I really don’t see why you won’t fight m—”
“This ain’t th’ time ‘n place to be wrasslin’, kiddos! We’re here t’ get along ‘n have fun!” Jonas interceded in the middle of the tense standoff with his arms akimbo and a huge grin plastered over his face.
The two severed their tête-à-tête to glare at him.
“Both o’ ya need’ta trim yer sails righ’ now before one o’ ya gets hurt!” Jonas lassoed both of them over the shoulders jovially, and pulled them closer to him. He winked twice, individually, at Hector, then at Rie. “An’ I think I got juuuus’ th’ thing to help y’two let go ‘n unwind ‘ere.”
Neither of them said a word.
“Ain’t this th’ life, guys?” Jonas asked, fishing rod in hand, reclined in his chair and happier than a pig in sh—nah, a whale in the open seas. “Nothin’ better than spendin’ th’ day doin’ nothin’ but kickin’ back ‘n anglin’ fer the big catch!”
“Coulda been catchin’ some fine ass to smash by now,” Hector grumbled, slouched in his chair with his head propped up by his arm. Seven beers in and he was barely buzzed. Any longer and he’d have to start guzzling down the rum.
Rie continued to say nothing and sat there with her arms crossed and her face simmering with apathy. He knew by now that this was pretty much her natural state, but Hector figured she must have been bored to death, too. Jonas had offered them each their own fishing rods, but Hector politely declined and Rie ignored him entirely. The guy didn’t seem to mind, though; he still appreciated their company all the same.
Maybe trading blows over ice cream wasn’t such a bad idea after all. But it was too late for that now.
Minutes passed. Hector sighed, took a swig of Bacardi straight out of the bottle, and sprawled his arms over the armrests, letting his neck go slack and his head dangling over the edge of the chair. The gentle white noise of the waves crashing against the face of the rock jetty, not to mention the alcohol, and the whole lot of nothing fucking happening, was starting to put him to sleep. Nah. Fuck this, he simply couldn’t take it anymore.
“Look, pops, no offense, but—” Hector clambered to his feet and stretched his numbed muscles, “—I am a wild, healthy young stud and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m just, like, bursting at the seams with testosterone at any given moment—”
“If you’re such an alpha male, why didn’t you fight me?”
“Shut the fuck up, Rie.”
“Pfft.” Rie snorted and rolled her eyes. “I bet my balls are way bigger than yours.”
Hector scoffed, and continued to plead his case. “Anyway, what I was gonna say before Buzzkill Betty chimed in here, is that even though I spend my life at sea, I think line fishing is dull as fuck. See, I actually think fishing is awesome, and that’s because I found a process that's a little more engaging—”
He twisted off a ruby-colored band from one of his fingers and tossed it in the air. When he caught it, the ring had transformed into a throwing spear with a long crimson shaft and a golden metal tip ending at a barbed point. A very long rope materialized with it, tied to the other end of the spear, which he wrapped around a nearby stone spire and secured with a knot.
“—so allow me to give you a little demonstration.”
Holding the spear aloft at shoulder level, Hector scanned the distant waters for a worthy target. Then he slung it a whole furlong out, with the blistering velocity and the titanic force that would leave a reigning quarterback MVP feeling utterly inadequate. The spear penetrated the surface and disappeared into the depths of the ocean. Through the power of Tiamat imbued within the magical artifact, he could sense the successful strike, the piercing of flesh, the cue to grab hold of the rope and start hauling it in.
“Jackpot, baby!” Hector gritted his teeth, braced his core, and anchored his legs wide apart for leverage; whatever it was he had hooked, it was big, and it had fight in it for days. He caught glimpses of something blue thrashing around, leaping over waves, struggling to dislodge the spear from its body. The two were locked in this heated battle, engaged in this primal, nautical tug-of-war match, until the sea creature was gradually pulled into focus and dragged ashore, flipping and dripping in defiance of defeat.
“Well, I’ll be, lad! ‘S gotta be th’ biggest, meatiest darlin’ of a marlin I ever laid eyes on!” Jonas exclaimed, leaping out of his chair.
Rie was silent. But she was also a few bottles short of plastered, perched on the edge of her seat, and watching with a giddy grin spread ear-to-ear.
Hector still had yet to even catch his breath. He could feel his heart thumping all the way in his throat, his skin sizzling with an effervescent sensation brewed by the jetstream of adrenaline raging through his veins. When he sprinted over to retrieve his spear and marvel at his catch, he considered, at first, the possibility that this marathon high was so potent that it had affected his vision—the marlin was extraordinary, almost 15 feet long, with a majestic blue crest of a dorsal fin and a sharp, long bill she could just take and… drive through his chest and puncture his lungs—
Oh. Hell no.
His eyes had to be thoroughly fucked.
There could be no other explanation, Hector thought, for the sequence of events that followed. Before he could yank the spear out of the marlin, there was no more marlin to yank a spear out of.
There was only a very wet, bloody, furious woman clutching the shaft impaled through her stomach, with her hair erupting in a high ponytail and absolute murder in her cold eyes. She extracted the foreign object from her body, making a sickening squelch sound as it slid through muscle and flesh that wove itself intact in an instant.
“Oh, shit. Oh, god. Oh my god I am so, SO sor—I didn’t mean to—p-please don’t—”
“Lose something, Hector?” Natalie snarled, thrusting the spear into the ground, between his quivering legs, a hair’s breadth from skewering his junk.
Hector started slowly backing away with his hands in the air, whipping his head around behind his shoulders briefly to check on Rie and Jonas. They must have bailed. That was fine, he didn’t want collateral damage and this was his fault anyway; besides, it wasn’t like he couldn’t take Natalie one-on-one. He’d done it once before, after all.
“Look, Nat, th-this is all a b-b-big m-misunderst—I thought we were cool now, Nat!”
Natalie kept walking forward without saying a word. Hector was shaking, panicking, holding out hope that he could still resolve this with diplomacy.
“Nat, please—”
“YOU STABBED ME—” Natalie roared, stampeding at him shoulder-first, eyes filled with red, “—THROUGH THE FUCKING GUT—” she slammed him against the rock cliff with enough force to snap a rib, “—WITH A FUCKING SPEAR—” and smashed a fist into his solar plexus, knocking any wind he had left out of him. “—YOU STUPID CUNT!”
“Nat—” Hector coughed and wheezed vigorously; every bit of air expelled from his lungs sent arrows of pain radiating from his chest. He took a sharp breath, clenched his teeth, and shoved her off of him. “—it was an accident, I swear!”
“I don’t want to hear it, motherfucker!” Natalie barked, already charging to make another attack. She leaped into the air and wound up her brawny leg to kick him. Then, mid-spin, she shifted form into a basking shark and walloped him with her massive tailfin, sending him flying several yards backward. Hector skidded to a halt over some sand. His back had dragged against the grit like a nail file, and it had shredded his skin raw.
Everything hurt so bad, he just wanted to surrender on the spot, fuck lost pride. But Sylvia Natalie Ulima never accepted forfeits; in her eyes, yielding was for merging traffic. Hector scrambled to get to his feet just as she reached him again. He braced himself for another slap. This time, when she wheeled around for the second hit, he grabbed her by the tail, pivoted on his toes and, with the aid of centrifugal momentum, hurled Natalie back into the ocean from whence she came.
“So long, you salty bitch!” Hector cried out with his hands cupped around his mouth, taking great satisfaction in watching Natalie land in the water with a monumental splash that could still be heard all the way back at shore. With that out of the way, he turned to make his way back to the cove spot, already formulating in his head the yarns he’d spin for prospective hookups at parties about the time he wrestled a bloodthirsty sea monster into submission to save his fr—
He heard the crescendoing sound of rushing water behind him, like a speedboat approaching at eighty knots, and turned around to catch Natalie flying straight at him from out of the waves, tackling him to the ground. Hector jerked his head to the left to avoid a heavy punch that buried her arm into the wet sand and showered their faces in clumps of grit. Temporarily blinded by the abrasive scraping off his corneas, he capitalized on his opportunity by headbutting Natalie repeatedly until she staggered, then disengaging with a strong kick using both legs.
Hector managed to stand back up, but with one sense out of commission, he knew he was at a disadvantage. He picked a direction and started bolting in zigzags while blinking and sweeping at his eyes trying to clear the rest of the sand. Then he felt his body hit the sand again, a set of spikes clamping down on his leg, bear trap style. Natalie had transformed into a great white shark and sunk her razor sharp set of teeth into his calf. The response from his nerves was excruciating.
“Fucking hell, what’s wrong with you?! Let go of me!” Hector shrieked, his shrill howls echoing off the surrounding cliffside.
Natalie said nothing. She only chomped down harder, tearing through the muscle and now chipping against the bone.
“You realize I can’t grow this shit back like you can, right?!” And Hector wasn’t about to have a last-minute amputation spoil the upcoming trip his daughter had been looking forward to all year. He seized Natalie by the gills and started whaling on the tip of her nose. The haymakers put dents in the cartilage, but the damage was only goading her further. As long as he could hold out until her oxygen supply ran out, he’d be free, at least he hoped. Hector swung away with his fist, praying his leg would come out of this in one piece, until finally she released the bite and reverted to her human form, gasping for air and rubbing at her nose.
Natalie didn’t have her next move ready. She was swaying back and forth like she just went on the bender of the year. Hector sprang back into action, careful to spare his bad leg by allocating more weight to his good one. He lunged at her, grabbed her by the face, and threw his whole body into a facebuster, then pinned her to the ground with his knee and locked her in a half-nelson.
“If I were you, I’d start considering tapping out right about now,” Hector growled into her ear through grinding teeth.
Of course, he wasn’t expecting her to do that. But something was off. Natalie was barely resisting him.
“But… But why would I do something like that...” she panted, “...when I’ve still got plenty of juice left in the tank?”
A volley of brilliant flashes bombarded his vision as he felt something slippery wrap around his arm and pump a thousand volts into his system like a living live wire.
“SON OF A BITCH—God, what do I look like, Tam fucking Lin?!” is what Hector would have shouted, if his mouth was working the way it was supposed to be; instead it dribbled out as an unintelligible morass of sounds. He flopped around prone while he tried to rally his muscles into getting up, but could only twitch and writhe helplessly while the eel coiled around his arm transmuted back into a woman. Now it was Natalie who had him down for the count, rolling him onto his back and straddling his body.
She reached for a shaft-like object at her belt, and flicked her wrist to materialize a blade at its end. Hector moaned, unable to beg for mercy in English, as she lowered the sword to his throat, pressing it closer and closer to the jugular. This was it. She was going to snuff him out here and now. His blood would spill and seep into the sand, and she would toss his body into the sea where he’d become human chum for hungry fish. Rie and Jonas, wherever they were, would never find his body. Pleiades would be an orphan. If she ever learned of who had killed her father, she’d set out for revenge, and he only hoped she could develop the strength to surpass Natalie and—
She was withdrawing the blade.
And pulling back.
And straightening up, and putting away the sword to help him to his feet.
She had spared him. Hector could hardly comprehend it, but then again, still in the process of recovering from a nasty electrocution, he could hardly comprehend much of anything besides extreme physical agony. Bruised, bleeding, and barely able to stand on his own, he could only gawk at Natalie in bewilderment while he tried once again to coordinate his tongue and his jaw into producing coherent language.
“I… So… So you’re… not… going to kill me?”
“Nah.” Natalie shook her head. She frowned and folded her arms. “Just wanted to teach you a fucking lesson, was all.”
“Well, uh, great job, you did it—I sure as hell am never going fishing ever again,” Hector slurred. His head was pounding, his ears were ringing nonstop, and the arm that got shocked hung limp at his side, numb and unresponsive. But hey, all things considered, there was something to be said for being alive, and heck, at least it was a damn good workout. He extended the arm that had regained some motor function out to her.
“So, we, uh… We square now?”
Natalie smirked, and accepted his handshake of truce.
“No.”
She crushed his hand in her grip and instantly shapeshifted into a hideous piscine monster with scaly skin, webbed hands, and sharp claws, which she used to gouge a fresh set of slash marks into his oblique to match the other side.
“Now we’re square.”
Natalie walked away and dove headfirst into the ocean, leaving Hector on the beach doubled over in pain and spitting obscenities back at her as she vanished into the horizon.
“Ya sure y’should be drinkin’ after losin’ that much blood, son?” Jonas handed him another skewered mackerel, piping hot straight off the grill.
“Hey look, I’ll be the one to tell you what I need and what I don’t need right now, okay old man?” Hector grumbled, taking a bite of fish and washing it down with a swig of tequila out of the bottle. He found rest in a lounge chair, after having his leg and abdominal area swaddled in gauze and refusing any further medical attention. He’d be fine, he said; he’d suffered much worse in the past. The endorphins were finally kicking in, and he’d be damned if he was going to let a little flesh wound ruin his entire evening.
Rie wore a bemused expression as she munched away on her own skewer in a chair next to his. Jonas had apologized for not sticking around for backup during the Natalie fight, and Rie had straight up admitted to bailing so she wouldn’t have to pick a side and explain anything to either of them later, but Hector assured them both that he wasn’t taking it personally.
“Can you teach me how to throw spears like that?” Rie said, breaking her silence all of a sudden.
“Huh?” Hector looked up from his fish and slowly turned his head to face her. “Uh, sure? Yeah, I mean, I’d love to show you how, if that’s what you want. Just don’t expect me to demonstrate on living targets anymore, after what happened today. I’m not about to go piss off some other shapeshifter who might actually want me dead, alright?” He thought he caught Rie cracking a smile and firing off a short laughter snort. “You know, Rie… You kind of remind me of a good friend I used to have.”
Something in her countenance seemed to sour; Hector was afraid he’d offended her again somehow for a second. Rie picked up her bottle of beer, took a drink from it, and when she put it back down, her face was communicating a more bittersweet sentiment. She stared out into the sunset, brows knitted, the corner of her mouth slowly curling upward.
“You… also remind me of a good friend I used to have. A friend who was very dear to me.”
“Wish I could have gotten to know him, then,” Hector chuckled. He reached into the cooler for a beer and saw that he got his hands on the last one… and so had Rie.
“Oh! Sorry, Rie, you can have it—”
“Fight you for it.”
Hector let go of the bottle. “No, seriously, take it, it’s fine, I can just—”
“You’re no fun,” Rie scoffed, flinging it into Hector’s injured side.
“OW, what a horrible day to have ribs!” he moaned, clutching his sore middle.
“Rie, lass, what did I just tell ya ‘bout treatin’ yer friends?” Jonas guffawed, setting down a tray stacked with more grilled mackerel. Rie plucked one off the top and cast her eyes down to her feet.
“Right. Sorry, Jonas. Sorry, Hector.”
“It’s all good, Rie,” Hector said, grabbing another skewer. “Look, can you at least wait until my wounds heal up before you challenge me to a duel? Besides, somehow I get the feeling you wouldn’t enjoy it as much if I wasn’t giving you my very best effort.”
Rie bit off a mouthful of fish and gave him her most genuine smile yet. “Deal.”