- Joined
- Sep 10, 2018
- Posts
- 77
- Essence
- €15,369
- Coin
- ₡12,964
- Tokens
- 25
- World
- Mesa Roja
- Profile
- Click Here
- Faction
- Babylonia
Took about a year but finally finished this mess of an idea, could not have done it without my dear friend Hizrihel for keeping me updated on the goings on on the site and doing me a massive favour with editing stuff. Also would like to give Jeff a shout out for bugging me to get back into things, thank you guys
“I hate it” Victor sighed to himself as he speed jabbed the air, the punches moving with impressive speed and power, but not to the same level they had been a few days ago. Breaking the fusion may have saved his individuality but had come at a steep cost of power. For a few days, every movement had felt heavy and laboured, every reaction as clumsy and slow as an infant, but- always quick to adapt- Victor was getting used to being back in his old body. The drain from defusing felt like nothing more than a bad hangover now.
After the incident the goddess and assassin decided to part ways for now, realising that if they really wanted to reach higher peaks when fused it may have been best to work on themselves first. Nothing was certain, but the pair did feel that it was their own individual limits that held them back from truly mastering the new form they had been working on.
He considered informing his allies of the situation but decided that he would enjoy his time laying low for a little longer. Lest the next great Babylonian disaster start, best to relax and recover before fighting all the evils of the world.
A raucous atmosphere leaking from a nearby sports bar caught Victor's attention, the smell of cheap beer and aftershave covering up the vomit pooling outside from the more lightweight patrons. Walking over to the establishment he peered inside the door past the bouncer to spot some sort of violent event taking place, weirdly one not covered in Pepsi advertisement.
Entering the place the large bouncer turned to the noble, about to open his mouth when he felt a shiver run down his spine, the air almost turning to a soup as he panted trying to force his lungs to work. His mind screamed out to run but his feet were glued to the spot whilst a single tear rolled down his cheek. As his mouth shut the pressure slowly eased off, the hooded figure now out of his sight.
Scanning the room the former emperor looked for a place to sit, the days' entertainment clearly drawing the bloodthirsty of Uruk out as shirtless men with names of what he assumed were their preferred winners spray-painted on some rather unimpressive dad bods. Weaving his way through the cloud of body odour and alcohol, Victor found his way to the one open seat. At the very back of the bar, a two-seater table.
The other chair was occupied by a strangely familiar hooded figure, scribbling away on a pad with coloured pencils laid out on the table. As he approached he noticed that the figure seemed lithe, thin and tall but much like Victor himself, probably somewhat strong. The way they handled the pencil with precision and grace showed an impressive level of dexterity. The stranger’s eyes darted towards the screen occasionally to keep up with the action, a few empty beer mugs functioned as obstacles to keep the assortment of coloured pencils from rolling away.
“Why hello there, may I have the seat, kind sir?” Victor inquired, the hooded man who was now in the middle of sipping at his beer coughed and spluttered, looking away towards the screen and wiping beer from their mouth with the sleeve of their robes.
“Uh? Sorry! Caught me by surprise! What was that?” The stranger continued to avoid eye contact, lowering his hood further causing Victor's eyes to narrow.
“The seat. I require a place to watch the entertainment and this appears to be the only free one.”
“This seat? Are you sure, though I saw one over there…” the hooded figure's eyes did a quick dart across the room to no avail.
“Hm. Oh! This seat is saved for someone else, they will be here any minute now, so sorry but you can’t sit there.” The stranger nodded pleased with himself.
“Wow, it took you two minutes to come up with that one. I guess I will just keep it warm for your friend, don’t want one of these fine inebriated individuals deciding to sit down and forgetting how to get up again.”
Pondering to himself, Victor wondered where they had seen this figure before: the frame, the dexterity, the shifty nature. It all seemed very... “Demetri is that-? No, too tall- can’t be. It's the darndest thing really, for some reason seeing you made me think of a certain thief…”
It all clicked, not a Victor memory but a Sutor one, a slender, sticky-fingered thief, the person who had bumped into them and attempted to steal their daggers. A fiery rage filled the assassin, His eyes darted to survey the situation, he could use one of the empty glasses to try and blind him, then leave a blade in during the ensuing brawl. Or he could wait, follow him home and get him when it's quiet.
He had to know though, who would have the balls to steal from him, what scummy criminal face lurked under that hood, at that moment the crowd in the bar erupted, the stranger's eyes darted to the screen to see the cause of the commotion, and Victor had his chance.
One of the bigger patrons swung an arm back whilst celebrating, using what to the assassin was a slight bump to make it look worse he dived towards the stranger, with one hand grabbing and pulling down the hood and the other summoning a blade beneath his chin.
What he saw gave him pause, the dagger pressed firmly to what he could only describe as a roguish and handsome perfect jawline, the red eyes, and long dirty blonde hair down to shoulder length. A slow grin spread across the mirrored faces of Victor and the now not so stranger.
“Huh, it looks like we have a lot to talk about Mr Victor Wolfe” the assassin chuckled as he removed the knife and took a seat next to his body double.
“Wait… Who is Victor?” The stranger that shared his face replied.
Victor squinted at his doppelganger incredulously. “You? Wait, also me! Us? You know, I should have known this could be a possibility, but I am woefully underprepared- normally I have this all thought out.” The noble pulled out his notebook and proceeded to flick through the pages.
“Uhuh, so I am not going to lie, we do look, and sound, and seem to move very similarly, but my name isn’t ‘Victor’. It's Atticus. Atticus al-Waheed.”
“Ok not to be racist or anything but… You might be paler than I am, what's with the surname? Did you get captured on a mission to a colony and get given that name?”
Atticus rolled his eyes. “If you must know it was probably the best gift I have ever received, a very important man gave it to me.” Atticus puffed out his chest proudly.
“Aw, that's so cute I am very happy for you, other me, when was the wedding?”
“What?! No, I mean I was adopted, I don’t actually know or remember what my birth name would have been, and what is with the ‘other me’ stuff?”
Victor's eyes seemed to glow with a brighter intensity. “Well, how much do you know about multiverse theory?”