#i was close in putting 'whatasize it' instead of family

[marsmaru]

30K words of pure anger, a lot of anger. : )

The final part of “Family Matters”

Comments and kudos feed this tiny gremlin on AO3 :D Its what keeps me motivated to keep writing!

Rated M for Memes, CW/TW under the tag, blo/ody v/iolence everywhere

Pairings: semi-one-sided-maybe Tyreen/Reader, semi-one-sided-maybe Troy/Reader

Tagged as The Calypso Twins Thirst

Link to AO3 right here if you get annoyed with the spaces, Tumblr messed it up.

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Let’s Flay: The Plaything Series

Summary: Life in Promethea has always been harsh with its wildlife, friends are difficult to come by, and the inevitable fate of dying at the end of a gun barrel were the realities you faced each day. You tried to make the best of it but everything crumbles down when the Children of the Vault destroy what shred of hope you had for a good life. (Or how the Calypsos became your #1 fans)

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Chapter 6: Family Matters: Family is (not) Forever (Part 3, Final)

Revenge is a dish best served cold. Sometimes, you have to family-size it to include everyone.

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CW: Extreme violence/blood

 As always, not beta-read, only pawed at by my cat. Kudos and comments feed this tiny gremlin!

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 An old video starts with a hearty melody, several Crimson Lance soldiers are seen in the background with civilians, waving at the camera. An announcer speaks with a joyous tone:

 Here at Atlas, we strive to provide the best for those under our control! With the best weapons, with our army, with our company values, here, you will feel at home! Join Atlas, NOW!

 Several people come into view, the camera panning to them. They are all smiling, a bit forceful.

 “Atlas helped me! They provided me a home!”         “Atlas is the absolute best ever here in Promethea!”                        “I feel right at home here with Atlas!”     “Atlas is the best!”

 Our very own Supreme Commander Gaia speaks to all those debating in joining us!

 The camera pans to young woman wearing a regal red and black Crimson Lance armor, towering over everyone, speaking to a group of soldiers before turning to face the camera, smiling, somewhat genuine.

 “With Atlas, you don’t have to be afraid of bandits and the harsh life of Promethea,” Gaia said, still smiling, her visible Siren tattoos on her face glowing dimly, “Here, we are family.” Several kids run into view, giggling. A child stands out from the group, the young Steele hugs Gaia, grinning.

 “Atlas is family!” the children cheer, raising their arms up, waving and jumping.

 Atlas is indeed family!

 The video rewinds again and again. Hephaestus stops the video where Gaia and Steele are in the same shot, punching the screen. He digs further into the electronic device, ignoring the jolts of electricity running through his arm, ripping out the wires.

 “Fuck your family…” Hephaestus hissed out, “You fucking monster…” He glances at the crib, hearing movement. His outburst had woken up his small roommate. Hephaestus got up, quietly approaching the crib, peeking inside.

 You looked up at him, annoyed and sleepy. Growling, you kick in place, demanding attention.

 “Woke you up, eh? Sorry,” Hephaestus said, picking you up. Your eyes fall on the broken screen, then at your brother. He doesn’t anything as he pats your back, humming. You coo, snuggling to him.

 “Don’t worry baby sis… The monster won’t get you here…. She’s dead,” Hephaestus whispered, lulling you to sleep. He sighs, his gaze locked on a small photo frame above the crib. The photo displays Gaia, looking old, exhausted and sickly, holding an infant in her arms, the blanket wrapping the infant has a name embroidered on it:

 “Andromeda H. J.”

 Hephaestus frowns, carefully placing you back on the crib, tucking you in. The blanket he uses is the same one in the photo. It won’t be long before the blanket is too small for you.

 “I’m your only family,” Hephaestus said, flipping the photo frame to face down on the shelf.

 -----00000----

 “Was she your only child?” you asked Jackal, laying on your bed. He was fixing items around your room, cleaning the night stand where the bouquet of purple hyacinths was at. The priest had come in late at night at the request of Troy, perhaps the little argument about Helen being too much for the Calypso. Both had missed Tyreen walking in with the flower arrangement by a few minutes. So far, neither made a comment about it during the night arrangement exchange.

 “That I know of, yes,” he chuckled, frowning, “I jest. She was the only one, my partner and I separated when she was a child.” He touched one of the flowers, admiring the soft texture of the petals.

 “May I ask, what happened?” you inquired, sitting up. Jackal took one of the purple hyacinths, holding it between his calloused fingertips, “Bandit life you know? Plus, I was an extreme alcoholic. Despite us being psychos, she had enough mentality to sober up for our kid. I had a hard time.”

 You recalled him being drunk several times in the sermons, the other psychos joining. Several instances, you had to hide the alcohol from the lot.

 “You’ve sobered up now,” you commented. Since Helen’s death, the priest had refrained from drinking.

 “Late for that... even though Helen said she didn’t mind me being drunk,” Jackal said, gazing at the flower, “I still looked after her even during that state… Just a bunch of what ifs…”

 “Beating yourself up still for not stopping her?” you offered, Troy doing the same. You pitied the priest more than Troy.

 “Yes… you should still be careful with the Calypsos,” Jackal said. That was a given for you, not needing extra advice on that. The twins knew you were extremely angry at them. They still treated you as a toy, fighting for your attention.

 “I know. I sometimes wish this is just a fucking nightmare, the other me waiting to wake up, be back with the other bandits…” you said, wanting your brother around. It had been more than 15 years since he was killed.

 “Other bandits? The Skullmashers?” Jackal looked at you. Your first encounter with the priest was Jackal praising the Calypsos for destroying them. It never crossed your mind that you’d be having a ‘heart-to-heart’ chat with that same man later on.

 “Them, or the Vipers… only when my brother was alive…” you replied, sighing. The Vipers before they sold you out to the bandit lord who ruined further your life.

 “What about your parents? They weren’t in the picture?” Jackal pushed a chair over, sitting by your bedside. He placed the flower back in the vase.

 You shook your head, frowning, “Never knew them. It was always my brother and me. The few times I’d ask him, he’d dodge the question… So, I assume they passed away when I was an infant…” It was part of bandit life, dying either by a bullet, the wildlife eating you, or being exterminated by corporations encroaching on the bandit camps.

 “At least you somewhat know about them,” Jackal said. You raised an eyebrow at this.

 “What do you mean?” You asked, curious. You had nothing from your parents, not even a memento.

 “Your name.”

 You blinked, “M-My name?”

 “What’s your name?” Jackal asked, smiling, “Known you for a while already, a year or so since you’ve been here. Odd, I know. But I’m sure you prefer something other than ‘the God Queen’s plaything.’”

 “Oh…” you look down, playing with the blanket, “Andromeda…”

 Jackal extended his hand out, “Jackal, but you know that already.” You looked at his hand then at Jackal.

 /What’s your name?/ Perseus was the first one to bother asking.

 You shook his hand, grinning, “Heh.” An unlikely ally, friend with the priest.

 “Your name is what your parents gave you, you still have something from them,” Jackal said.

 “You don’t say…” you replied, amazed at the revelation. It gave you a bit of comfort in your current state. Perhaps that was their only and last ‘gift’ to you before passing away.

 Perhaps.

 -----0000000-----

 Three individuals plus Katagawa Jr. were seated in a large, dimly lit conference room, the massive blue seat at the head of the table empty of its occupant. Winona, wearing a business suit, held a tablet in her hands, a neutral expression adorning her face. She stood next to the empty seat, eyeing everyone.

 “How long is Master going to have us wait?” one of the individuals asked, an older woman. Her purple hair was braided, her tanned skin wrinkly and marked with scars; an emblem of sergeant major is marked on her neck. She is wearing a green military bomber jacket, an insignia of ‘Dahl’ marked on the sleeve. Flicking a gold lighter, she lights up a cigar.

 “Master is attending a personal family matter at the moment, Lady Constance,” Winona informed, adjusting her glasses, “He’ll be joining us shortly. He has asked me to commence the meeting.”

 “About time then!” Katagawa Jr. said, stretching back, “One more minute and I would have hauled ass out of here.”

 “Please keep your foul language to a minimum, Katagawa. You know how Master dislikes improper language,” the older man in the group said. He was wearing a brown and light green business suit, bald save for his massive white beard, small reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The insignia of “Jakobs” was pinned on his tie.

 “Ugh, you don’t have to deal with him on a daily basis, Frederick,” Katagawa said, adjusting the sleeves of his suit, “Having to put a courteous face in front of others back in Maliwan is exhausting.”

 A hearty laughter was emitted from the younger woman next to Katagawa, “Oh, Katagawa, you’re just upset that Master is keeping you on hold on that merger with Atlas! That handsome CEO, Rhys was it?” Katagawa sneered at her. The younger woman stuck her tongue out at him, giggling. She rested a well-manicured hand on the table, using her other hand to flip her blue curly hair, then adjusting her white coat. Her most curious feature were the pearl earrings she was wearing with the Vault symbol engraved on them.

 “Watch it, Diana,” Katagawa muttered. Diana merely winked at him, “Jealous that the CEO asked me out on a date?”

 “Everyone, please, we must start the meeting,” Winona pleaded, bringing up a screen with several planets, red markers scattered about, “As you all know, an attack was launched against the bandit cult known as the Children of the Vault by one of our own.”

 “Shucks, I’m sure Master is pissed,” Constance muttered, taking a drag out of her cigar, “We should have razed those bastards either way and retrieve the missus.”

 “I offered to do that, but he scoffed at the idea,” Katagawa said, “The company has been sending the Calypsos supply crates in exchange for an army to prepare for the Atlas siege. My bots would have been sufficient for the task.”

 “Master’s orders still stand that no one is to continue any attacks against the Calypsos. Katagawa will continue shipping out weapon parts,” Winona informed, bringing up an image of the twins, “We have received intel that Tyreen Calypso was the one who inflicted severe injuries on our Queen. Luckily for us, she made it out alive.”

 “Huh, the reason for those attacks, I assume,” Frederick said, looking at Winona, “Who ordered the attack?”

 Winona took a deep breath, “Lady Blue.” The room fell silent, even Katagawa gazed down.

 “That young and already participating in the family business,” Diana commented.

 “Our informant within the cult has been keeping tabs on our Queen. They report that she has made a steady recovery. They also informed there is trouble in the inner circle of the Calypsos,” Winona said, “Master wishes to see how this will play out.”

 “That Let’s Flay they had was brutal even by my standards,” Frederick said, rubbing his forehead, “What was she again? Troy Calypso’s lover?”

 “Yes, seems like his right-hand man, Prophet Donovan, was behind the push for her to be in the fight,” Winona replied, “Our Queen refused to kill her at Tyreen Calypso’s orders.”

 “Ever merciful,” Constance said, “Ungrateful bastards.” Her tone was laced with anger.

 “Bandits are such crude bastards,” Diana said, frowning, “But I suppose there is a market for any kind of uncouth behavior in the EchoNet. To think that our poor Queen is surrounded by such group, such filth.” She fanned herself, a look of disgust on her face.

 “Unfortunate that Master doesn’t want us destroying them,” Frederick said, crossing his arms.

 “What does he want to see?” Katagawa asked, tapping his fingers on the table, “How long it will take for them to kill each other?” Katagawa needed the CoV alive at the moment.

 Winona brought several displays to each member, showcasing photos, “Master will be sending these photos when the time is appropriate.” She awaited their reactions.

 “W-Wait, what? Are you serious?” Frederick stood up from his seat, shocked, “Are we going to be giving out that sensitive information?!”

 Diana clapped, gleeful, “Oh, I think it’s wonderful! I love seeing the Calypsos squirm!” A devilish smirk adorned her lips.

 “Master likes to show his cards from time to time, old man,” Constance said, laughing, putting out her cigar.

 Katagawa scrolled through the photos, glancing at Winona, “Particular reason for this?”

 “Master has reason to believe someone is pulling the strings behind the cult,” Winona replied, “These past years the Children of the Vault have grown exponentially since the death of El Capitan. Their influence has expanded across other planets and other galaxies.”

 “He wants to smoke them out with this tantalizing information,” Constance snickered, “I like this…”

 All they had to do was wait for the Calypsos to take the bait.

 ------000000--------

 A few days passed by since the incident in the courtyard, no one bringing the topic up during another outing in the same location. You had made steady progress, walking on your own without help but taking longer breaks due to the mild pains creeping up once a in a while on your side. For situations like this, the twins would heal you to ease the pain the same way when you were in the infirmary.

 But you wanted both of them far away from you.

 You were still angry at Troy for what had happened in the bedroom. At your insistence, Jackal remained by your side during the nights to keep Troy out of your room. With Tyreen, you were extremely upset at her for trying to hurt Perseus. Your feelings towards her for being a Siren never changed, even with the little flowers she left behind seeking forgiveness for the beating.

 “You’re gripping that too tight, that’s why you bust the spring mechanism.”

 “What?” you blinked, holding a small gadget in your hand.

 “You were tightening the bolt too much, its going to snap,” Perseus said, pointing at the gadget, “Loosen it. Same thing with your jaw, you were grinding your teeth again.”

 Relaxing your jaw, you sighed, putting the gadget down on the table. The Calypsos were seated far off, observing your interactions with Perseus. Jackal was dismissed for the day, returning to his duties at the cathedral, another priest taking over to escort your mechanic friend around. That priest stood away, sneering at your prescence.

 “Lovely group we have today,” you muttered, loosening the bolt, “Priest that hates me, the God Queen that hates you, and the neutral Father Troy in the middle.”

 “A triad, perfect balance,” Perseus mused, “What better way to spend the day?”

 “I wish I was at the warehouse…” you whispered, “Or in my old garage… surrounded by scrap, tinkering the day away…”

 “Sounds lovely,” Perseus said, “Same, but I don’t mind spending the day here with you.”

 “At least you sneak in stuff for me to work with,” you held up the little gadget, a toy skag, “But I itch for guns and tune-ups.”

 “You’re banned, remember? You may be walking and all, but you are in no condition to go back to the warehouse,” Perseus reminded you, “Last time you were falling asleep, remember?”

 “Ugh, I know…” you slumped over the table, eyeing the Calypsos. Troy, grinning, waved at you while Tyreen stared. You weren’t sure if she was staring at you or trying to unlock a mental Siren power to combust Perseus. Either way, you ignored them both.

 “I used to fall asleep while working on stuff back at the Blitzkrieg camp,” Perseus said, winding-up the toy skag, setting it on the table where it hopped around, “My brother would scold me for it, almost lost a finger during a project.” You perked up on this information, ignoring the toy skag’s jaws biting at your arm.

 “You didn’t tell me you had a brother,” you said, curious.

 Perseus shrugged, “You didn’t ask? Heh, what about you?” You punched him lightly on the arm, grinning.

 “Rude, you didn’t ask either,” you countered, laughing, “My brother was the one who taught me everything I know about robotics and mechanical work…” You smiled, remembering your brother’s treasure trove of a workshop. Perseus chuckled, grabbing the toy skag that fell on its side.

 “That explains the awesome work you always delivered. My brother only showed me the basics, then from there I went my separate way,” Perseus explained, sounding annoyed at the last part.

 “Is he…?” You frowned, not wanting to upset him.

 “He’s alive… if that’s what are you wondering. He was sent to another outpost while I remained here in the main hub at the warehouse,” Perseus replied, “…I checked after the attacks….” He looked irritated.

 “I didn’t mean-“

 “Can we talk about something else?” Perseus asked, “I’m not that great when it comes to talking about… my brother.” You nodded, mildly surprised at his sudden mood change. He was the last person you wanted angry.

 “….” You looked up, feeling awkward.

 “What’s your game plan?” Perseus asked, changing the subject while working on the toy skag.

 “Get the hell out of here, that’s for sure,” you mumbled, earning a confused look from Perseus.

 You rolled your eyes, “I meant from the Calypsos’ living quarters…” He didn’t buy it.

 “I’m surprised you haven’t attempted that before,” Perseus noted, adjusting the skag’s jaws. He pushed it forward towards you. Carefully, you picked it up, inspecting it.

 “Out there, he’s waiting,” you whispered, fixing and making adjustments to Perseus’s gadget, “In here, they are waiting…” You glanced at the twins. The Calypsos were talking to each other surprisingly.

 “This Cetus guy… that terrifying he is?” Perseus asked, receiving the gadget from you. He wind-up the toy skag again, setting it down. The toy skag opened its jaws, snapping it over and over again, remaining in place. You poked at it, your finger getting caught in between the jaws.

 “He is, smiling while committing atrocities and punishing others,” you muttered, removing your finger from the toy’s jaws, “I told you what he has done during my time with him.”

 “How come you haven’t told them? The Twin Gods?” Perseus inquired, taking the toy away from you, “Pft, you somehow mess up the spring mechanism.” You huffed.

 “Do not, and well, its my business for now…. I have yet to get even with Donovan,” you replied.

 “We’re talking about a general here, Father Troy’s right-hand man… I mean, I want to help, but you are risking a lot here...” He glanced quickly at the twins then back at you, “That’s why I asked, what’s your game plan?”

 “Donovan wants me dead, but the Calypsos keep getting on his way… I have to ‘help’ him out on that,” you said, tapping at the table, “That’s why I’m withholding information… if they take the bait, just maybe my plan will work.”

 “And for that to happen, you need to be up 100% good to go,” Perseus mused, “Baby steps…” He dodged another punch from you, laughing. You grinned, not seeing Tyreen’s fists clench, Troy smirking next to her.

 It was difficult to tell whose feelings were getting toyed with.

 ------000000--------

 After the recording of the commercial, Gaia was surrounded by the camera crew, a stylist retouching her hair and a soldier fixing her armor. She sighed in annoyance, seeing Alphonso Knoxx approach. The young Steele remained nearby, watching.

 “Supreme Commander Gaia, wonderful performance, I’m sure the Atlas board of directors will appreciate your time,” he said, snickering as he lit a cigar, “Now they should stop pestering you.”

 “What is it now, Knoxx? Why isn’t my son here? He was supposed to be in this Atlas reel,” Gaia shooed off the camera crew and stylists, ushering Steele to get close, the little girl complying.

 “About that… Hephaestus refused to board the ship, he took off to Eden-6, again,” Knoxx replied, shaking his head, “Professor Juno is heading that way to retrieve him.”

 “What’s the point of having you as his detail if he runs off?” Gaia complained, holding Steele’s hand as she walked back to a tent, several soldiers saluting her. Various screens displayed Atlas territories in the galaxy, Promethea in the middle, others marked with Vaults.

 “I can handle soldiers, not brats. Besides, he needs a break, commander. Can’t expect a kid to be conducting experiments all day,” Knoxx countered, “He will get burned out.” Gaia paused, turning to face Knoxx. The soldiers in the tent tensed up, little Steele observed, amused.

 No one dared to question or answer back to the Supreme Commander of the Crimson Lance.

 Knoxx stood erect, unfazed by the tension in the air. Besides his own duties as a general, he was assigned to supervise Hephaestus, Gaia’s son. The Atlas Siren’s son. One of the most important assets of Atlas.

 Gaia’s expression hardened, but she sighed, “I suppose you’re right, I have been pushing him to show his true potential, for Atlas. Please notify me when my husband finds him.” She dismissed Knoxx who saluted, Steele grinning and waving at the general.

 “Now, Steele, let me show you the territories we possess, as a Siren and an important member of Atlas, it is our duty to uphold what is ours…” Gaia said, directing Steele to the map. The little girl nodded, paying attention, her own Siren tattoos glowing bright alongside Gaia’s.

 Knoxx blew out smoke once he stepped out of the tent, shaking his head, “Poor kid, his own mother trading him for another child.”

 Hephaestus had shitty luck.

 ------0000000-------

 The caravans, bandit technicals, and war technicals were set to go, all armed cultists were waiting for the word to depart. Troy and Tyreen gave one final inspection before meeting up with Donovan and Basil, the two generals accompanying them for the raid. Several weeks had passed since the last Let’s Flay, a sense of normalcy returning to the CoV, providing a breath of relief for the Calypsos. Smaller raids were conducted to distract from the unease the higher-ups were feeling, with the current, planned raid being one of the CoV’s biggest one to date.

 After the attack on the outposts, skirmishes with other bandit groups increased. The clan that kept popping up were the Junkers, growing bold. They had been playing guerilla tactics on the smaller CoV outposts.

 “Any activities from the Junker bandits?” Troy asked, checking his EchoNet device. No taunting messages or cryptic photos. Silence was never a good thing for Troy Calypso.

 “From what our scouts report, nothing so far,” Donovan replied, eyeing his side.

 “We’re in front of you, Prophet Donovan,” Troy muttered, not looking up from his EchoNet device. The general growled, huffing. Tyreen stared at Donovan, eye twitching a bit. Basil sighed, knowing he’d have to mediate any arguments between the twins and his fellow general. To a certain extent, they blamed Donovan for their deteriorating relationship with you.

 The general had taken notice of your presence by the main warehouse where you were talking to Perseus and Jackal, the former working on a vehicle. Tyreen was on edge with Perseus’ prescence while Troy gave her warning looks.

 “Basil, signal everyone that we’re ready for departure,” Troy said, shoving past Donovan, Tyreen following him towards the warehouse. Donovan faced forward, angry. Basil whistled for the armed cultists to board their vehicles, mouthing a ‘sorry’ at Donovan before departing at his technical. The general growled, heading to Troy’s bandit technical.

 Jackal tugged at your arm, signaling the arrival of the twins to you and Perseus. Annoyed, you adjusted your blanket around your form, waiting. Perseus didn’t stop working, not wanting to see Tyreen death glares directed at him.

 “We’re heading out, be on your best behavior,” Troy said, patting you on the head.

 “What am I going to do? Kill people with my blanket?” you mused, flapping your blanket around. Jackal rubbed his forehead, worried. Pip had forbidden you from returning to work at the warehouse. By now, you were walking around with no help and back at your hut much to the dislike of the twins. You were more than delighted at the change of scenery.

 “I hope that’s not a challenge you’re setting for yourself,” Troy poked your forehead, “Pip’s threat still stands, full body cast if you don’t behave.” He was met with a growl from you. But it wasn’t directed to him.

 But to Tyreen.

 The God Queen was glaring at Perseus who refused to make eye contact with her, keeping himself busy, working on the bandit technical on the bay area. Troy smacked her arm, causing her to flinch.

 “Stop it,” he hissed out, “What did I tell you…” Tyreen directed her glare at Troy, rubbing her arm.

 “Shut up…” she muttered.

 “Are you two done? Prophet Donovan looks like he’s about to explode in the vehicle,” you gestured at the general, somewhat amused. It would be a nice view, the little monster thought.

 “Behave, eat well, all that fun stuff, yada, yada…” Troy repeated, “I mean it, behave. Jackal, please keep an eye on her.”

 “Yes, Father Troy,” Jackal said, bowing. You pushed Troy’s hand from messing with your hair, the latter laughing before walking away. Tyreen remained in her spot, visibly nervous.

 “…We’ll be back in a few days..” she whispered, now approaching you, “…Don’t overexert yourself, okay?” You stared at the scars on her nose and part of her cheeks. Tyreen hadn’t bothered to fully heal them after you attacked her with the dagger weeks ago.

 “Yeah, sure,” you replied, blinking. She frowned at your neutral response, but nodded, reaching out to grab your hand.

 You pulled away.

 “Prophet Pip will be visiting you for another checkup,” Tyreen said, trying to save face, “I hope it goes well.” She paused, seemingly debating with herself before shaking her head. Tyreen gave Jackal a curt nod, turning around to leave. Crossing your arms, you watched the caravans depart, annoyed.

 “Good grief,” you muttered. At least this time the twins didn’t ask for a good luck kiss. They wouldn’t be open to a good luck slap.

 “If looks could kill,” Perseus whispered, glancing at you and Jackal.

 “We’d be all dead,” Jackal replied, sighing.

 ------000000------

 A young Hephaestus tinkered with a small robot’s chassis, growling and gritting his teeth. His father, Pietro Juno, sat next to him, looking outside the window of the spaceship currently transporting them to Promethea. The man touched his arm, bandaged from bites inflicted by Hephaestus.

 “Your mother and I were worried. You shouldn’t have left General Knoxx’s base without an escort,” Pietro said, turning to look at his son, “Eden-6 is a dangerous planet, what if Grandpa Douglas didn’t know you were visiting?”

 Hephaestus ignored him, crushing the small robot in anger.

 “Hepha…” Pietro started.

 “At least he knows I exist,” Hephaestus said, throwing the remains of the robot to the floor, startling the Crimson Lance soldiers nearby. They knew better to stay away from the Supreme Commander’s son. He was known to have an explosive behavior.

 “Hepha…!” Pietro grabbed his son’s arm, “This better be the last time you take off, do I make myself clear?” Hephaestus hissed at him, the young boy’s sharp teeth visible for all to see.

 “Don’t you and her have other toys to play with?” Hephaestus growled out, “Those other children in the ward…” Pietro pulled away, picking up on his son’s intent to bite him again.

 “I think her favorite toy is that stupid Steele,” Hephaestus muttered, crossing his arms, “’Oh, my little Siren sister, I need to show her the ropes,’ blah! Might as well give her my room and the Juno last name. I’ll go sleep with the stupid skags because I’m the Atlas pet!” He was holding back tears.

 Pietro remained quiet during his son’s rant. Hephaestus snarled, biting down on his own hand.

 “Hepha, stop that!” Pietro pried off his son’s hand from his mouth, seeing the large gash Hephaestus’ teeth left behind, “We need a medic, NOW!”

 “Yes, sir!”

 “I want to go home…” Hephaestus cried out, kicking in his seat.

 “We are going home, son,” Pietro tried to comfort him. Hephaestus shook his head, angry.

 “Not with you and her….” Hephaestus sobbed out.

 Home was anywhere but Promethea. Family was not Gaia and Pietro.

 -----00000--------

 The stench of death permeated the area, the thick smoke from the burning buildings and vehicles choked the air and shell casings covered the ground. Scraping of metal meeting the solid ground echoed, Troy hunched over, jaws split open as he dragged a squirming bandit by the leg.

 “LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” the bandit shouted, struggling and clawing at the ground, a blood trail being left behind. Troy paid no attention to the pleas of the bandit, only grunting.

 “I’LL GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT! Y-YOU WANT INFORMATION! RIGHT?!” the bandit pleaded, but screaming when Troy crushed their ankle with his mechanical hand.

 “You talk too much…” Troy growled, garbled from his jaws split open. He tossed the screaming bandit in front of him, raising his blade up and decapitating them. Their head rolled over, landing by someone who stood by, watching. Troy looked up, seeing a woman clad in armored gear, her old age showing through the heavy wrinkles on her faces, her pepper frizzy hair all over the place, though her pink eyes held mischief in them.

 “Bravo, Troy Calypso!” the woman said, clapping, “You sure know how to make an impression.” The woman grinned, showing some gaps on her teeth. She digistructed a shotgun, steadying it in her hands.

 Troy popped his jaws back, adjusting them, “I should say the same to you. You’ve been a thorn on our side, raiding our outposts, Leech.” He lifted his blade up, slamming it to the ground.

 “Word has reached that someone else kicked your asses, several outposts destroyed,” Leech snickered, pumping the shotgun, “Not so immortal after all, right, Twin God?”

 The mysterious PK’s doing that turned into a massive headache.

 The Calypso growled, “You will pay for messing with us…” He had to buy time for backup, Troy feeling his own energy draining fast. After days, weeks of healing you, his vitality was low. The remaining red vial on his necklace was glowing dim.

 “Haha, I think I will take my chances, my boys are on their way here to finish you and your lackies off!” Leech said, gleeful as she sprayed bullets on Troy. He dodged, his movements sluggish, using his blade as shield. The old woman caught on, continuously shooting.

 “HAHAHA! Look at you running away from this poor old lady!” Leech shouted, chasing after Troy. She switched to a Jakobs pistol, quickly shooting at Troy’s feet. He kept dodging and dodging, a bullet grazing his leg.

 “Fuck…!” he hissed out, breathing heavily.

 “I got you now, Calypso!” Leech yelled, taking out her shotgun. Several other bandits appeared, surrounding the area, Leech laughed. Troy looked around, cursing. The other armed cultists, Basil and Donovan were ways away from his fight, his forces thinned out.

 “My boys are here! You’re fucking dead now!” the old woman cackled, aiming her shotgun at him, “I shall be known as the God Slayer- GAH!” A bullet went through her head, Leech sniped from a distance. Her body fell forward, twitching. Troy caught his breath, glancing at the area where the shot came from.

 Tyreen was aiming through a scope, readying another shot when the remaining bandits descended to Troy’s area. She took out several bandits, reloading the sniper rifle. Using this opportunity, Troy did quick work of other assailants, other cultists arriving to help out.

 “FOR THE CALYPSOS!” they shouted, colliding with the remaining bandits from Leech’s group. Sounds of shots, explosions, and screams came to a stop, Troy and the cultists emerging victorious.

 “This camp is ours now, Leech is dead!” Troy announced, raising his blade. The cultists chanted and whooped in victory. Tyreen approached the group, digistructing her sniper rifle away, “Donovan’s group is scouting the area around for any stragglers.”

 Troy nodded, putting his fist out. Tyreen glanced at it then at Troy before gently fist bumping him back. Things were still awkward between them, but they acted ‘normal’ to keep up appearances for the cultists.

 The other armed cultists gathered around, celebrating their victory. Others bowed in reverence to Tyreen and Troy, the latter stumbling when he tried to walk towards Leech’s body. This alarmed them all, Tyreen rushing over to him.

 “I-I need to sit down-“ Troy fell to his knees, a wave of nausea hitting him. Tyreen and another cultist caught him before he hit the ground.

 “T-Troy!” Tyreen called out to him, Troy passing out in her arms, “D-Damnit, quick, help me bring him back to the war technical!”

 “Yes, ma’am!”

 The lone red vial was getting dark.

 -----00000-----

 Leto squeezed the water out of the cloth, placing it on Troy’s forehead. The boy whimpered in his sleep, Tyreen holding his hand as she sat next to him in bed. He had broken out in a fever for the past days, his mother and sister worried.

 “Mummy, is Troy going to be okay?” Tyreen asked, patting Troy’s hand. Next to Troy was the little ragdoll Hephaestus had gifted them, keeping him company. The boy was holding the doll with his mechanical hand.

 “He will, sweetie. Once the medication kicks in,” Leto said, frowning. The Atlas doctors were monitoring the situation, partly to keep Tyreen under control since her powers were affected by her emotions. These were amplified if her twin was hurt.

 Unbeknownst to them, Tyreen was slowly feeding him energy that she was taking from the plants used during the experiments. It wasn’t much, but the small amounts of energy were helping him get better.

 “You hear that Troy? You’ll be okay…” Tyreen whispered, laying down next to her brother. Troy was still asleep, squeezing his sister’s hand, acknowledging her statement.

 Leto looked away, holding back tears. She felt guilty for not doing enough to protect her children from Atlas.

 “I’m so sorry…” she whispered.

 ----0000000------

 “Hey.”

 Troy sighed in annoyance.

 “Heeeeeey.”

 He furrowed his eyebrows, growling.

 “HEY!”

 “WHAT?!” Troy yelled, coughing as he opened his eyes. He gasped, choking for air. He looked around, meeting Pip who was grinning back at him. The Calypso was laying down on a hospital bed, his jacket removed.

 “Heh, you can still hear, good,” the medic general said, tallying something on his tablet, “You were out for a while, raid was successful, congrats!” Troy groaned, landing his head on the pillow.

 “Right… Where’s Tyreen?” Troy asked, picking up the red vial from his necklace. It was slightly glowing, unlike before. Pip rolled over to him from his chair, poking Troy’s face and checking his eyes with a small light, “She went to get another batch of sacrifices, juiced you up with several willing cultists to get you back here in one piece.”

 “Oh…” He said, smacking the offending hands of Pip, “Red vial…”

 “Yep, its that time of the month again, Troy,” Pip said, standing up, “Another blood ritual will have to be conducted.”

 Troy hated the blood rituals, but he needed them to live. But that also meant getting scolded by mother and if she found out what happened between him and Tyreen this past few weeks, well, they were both in for an earful. He had his reasons, using his energy to get you back to full health.

 “Careful where you are touching…!” the voice reached over from down the infirmary hallway.

 Speak of the devil.

 “Ah, the plaything has been a treat this past few days, almost throttled one of my medics,” Pip laughed, “Said the medics were too grabby. I fault you and Tyreen for that.” Troy ignored the last part.

 The tall Calypso sat up, rubbing his face, “Where’s the mech-“

 “Two doors down, a medic is checking out her last stitches,” Pip stated, chuckling, “With the exercises she’s done, she’s pretty much healed up, still banned from the warehouse though.” Troy nodded, standing up, grabbing his jacket from hanger near the door.

 “Oh, you’re gonna go- Eh, there he goes…” Pip said, watching Troy walk out of the room, “Geez, you and Tyreen are bad at this.”

 Troy wandered off, peeking into examination room. You were sitting on the examination bed, lifting your shirt up while the medic applied antibiotic ointment on your stitches. The deep, purple bruises were long gone, only small ones remaining. Troy stepped in, the medic stopping their work.

 “F-Father Troy!” the medic said, bowing. You gave Troy a bored look, still holding your shirt up.

 “Don’t mind me, continue,” Troy ordered, approaching you, “Hey, how are you feeling?”

 “Peachy,” you replied, jumping a bit when the medic resumed their work, the ointment cold on your skin. Troy chuckled, ruffling your hair, “Could be worse, you be wearing a full body cast.”

 You rolled your eyes, sneering, “True, ugh.” Pip cheerfully reminded you at least once a day.

 “I heard about the victory on that big raid, another arena fight?” you asked. Troy rested his hand on your shoulder, “Yeah, but don’t worry, you won’t be participating in it.” You huffed at this.

 “What, don’t believe me?” he asked, brushing a strand of stray hair from your face. The medic gestured for you to put your shirt down, finishing. With your hands free, you pushed Troy’s hand away.

 “Hardly, I may not be cleared for work, but I’m sure I’ll be dumped in the arena,” you muttered, jumping off the examination bed. You were still angry about the first time when the Calypsos tricked you. The medic excused themselves, not wanting to be around for an argument.

 “We’re not going to force-“ you threw Troy a dirty look at the word ‘force.’ Nothing around here was your choice. You are a plaything.

 “Okay, that came out wrong, I’m aware,” Troy said, sighing, “You’re not participating in this Let’s Flay episode. There.”

 “Whatever…” you said, making your way past Troy. He grabbed your arm, stopping you.

 “Now what?” you hissed out. Troy leaned forward, kissing you. You didn’t respond, only standing still. He pulled back, frowning. You were still angry at him.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 “I’m the wrong person for that statement, too bad the one that needs it is dead,” you muttered, pushing him away as you left the examination room. You had more sympathy for the dead than the living.

 Troy watched you leave, still not giving up.

 -----0000000-------

 As you walked out into the hallway, you stopped when you saw Tyreen talking to Pip, who pointed at the direction you were at. All eyes fell on you.

 “Hey, you’re done? Remember, I don’t want to see you inside the warehouse, you’ll get an infection!” Pip scolded you, but patted your head. You smacked his hand away causing him to laugh. Tyreen stood away, holding a small red vial in her hand.

 “Give this to Troy, Pip,” she ordered, handing over the vial to Pip.

 “Yes, my God Queen,” he bowed before heading to the examination room you left Troy in.

 You both remained quiet, Tyreen looking away as you kept staring at her. You had been eyeing the scars on her nose.

 “H-How are you feeling…?” Tyreen asked, breaking the silence.

 “Fine.”

 Tyreen frowned, “I-I see… D-Did Troy tell you about the raid..?”

 “Yes.”

 Tyreen felt small, useless, “A-About the arena fight…”

 “I’m in.”

 “W-What? Y-You can’t…!” Tyreen was shocked, now looking at you. You were demanding to be in the arena fight?

 “One way or another, I’m participating. I know that,” you growled, glaring at her.

 “N-No! I’m not allowing that!” Tyreen said, shaking her head, “Y-You’re out of this one!” Troy and Pip stepped out from the examination room, surprised you were still in the infirmary.

 “What is going on?” Troy asked, approaching.

 “She wants to participate in the next Let’s Flay…” Tyreen said, breathing heavily, “I-I’m not allowing it!” She didn’t want to further infuriate Troy.

 “What the fuck, did Tyreen beat your head hard?” Pip said, earning a glare from Tyreen, “You are not in any condition to work much less fight!” Pip grabbed your arm, looking at you with disappointment, “You took almost a month to get back to where you are at now!”

 You shoved him away, “I’m not doing this for you shits, I know he’s watching!”

 All froze at your comment. You were aware of Master’s prescence, watching the CoV?

 “’He’?” Tyreen asked, not wanting to believe. The same bastard that had taunted her from the beginning, amping up her anxiety.

 “Master. I know he’s watching. Ever since your stupid raid at the Atlas stronghold, I had a feeling about it, plus those attacks on your outposts weren’t random, right?” you said, the expressions on the Calypsos confirming it. All for his sick entertainment.

 “You are not participating!” Pip was adamant, “What do you gain from this, plaything?!”

 “Saving your stupid skins! You think he’s going to stop at those outposts? You don’t fucking know him…” you said, pointing at them, “I don’t give a shit what you three say…” You stormed off, clenching your fists.

 “W-What did she mean by that?” Troy asked, “’Saving our skins?’” Tyreen shook her head, unsure. Ever since you recovered, your mood would flip from calm, collected to agitated, angry.

 “I don’t know, but you two need to stop her from further hurting herself. We saw what that PK asshole did…” Pip said, gulping, “We might have to pray to other deities to save us…”

 -----0000000-----

 Growling, you hissed at every cultist that got near you on your way back to your hut. After spending several weeks with the Calypsos in their living quarters, you were glad to finally be back to your own place. Thankfully for you, the hut was cleaned out thoroughly after you had puked your guts out weeks ago.

 Kicking the door open, your eye twitched at the sight of purple hyacinth flowers still in their vase and resting on you dining table, taunting you. The God Queen herself never came by to check on you and you hoped it remained that way. You felt more guilt about discarding the flowers than keeping them and giving her the wrong message that you had forgiven her.

 Entering your bedroom, you stripped off your clothes, careful with the stitches and the fresh ointment, changing into a simple shirt and pants, and walking back into the living room. Before you could sit down on your couch, a knock stopped you. No rest for the wicked it seems.

 Sighing, you opened the door, seeing Tyreen standing there. You narrowed your eyes at her.

 “H-Hi, doll…” Tyreen started, nervous, “May I come in?” You opened the door, allowing her entrance. She seemed surprised, walking in.

 You closed the door, making your way to the couch, sitting down. Tyreen stood by the door, unsure.

 “What do you want.” Your cold tone struck her heart.

 “…Please don’t fight…” Tyreen whispered, “I-I don’t want you getting hurt…”

 “A little late for that, no?” you hissed out, looking at her, annoyed. Long ago, she was the one getting excited, seeing your injuries and bruises from the arena fights. The visible scar on your neck loomed large on Tyreen a reminder of what she had committed.

 “I’m sorry…” Tyreen said, holding back tears, “I’m sorry…” She walked over to you, pleading.

 You only stared at her.

 “Please talk to me…” Tyreen begged. Even if it meant screaming insults at her, it was better than silent stares.

 “Since when do you give a shit?” you muttered, “Since when do you give a shit what I think?” You were exhausted, dealing with the tantrums of the Calypsos. Tyreen had lashed out before when you would talk back at her, slapping you. Now she was asking for you to talk to her? Ridiculous, the little monster thought.

 /Why do you care if she likes you or not?/

 “Go play with your other toys, God Queen,” you said, “I have to rest for the fight.”

 Tyreen wanted to reach out to grab your hand, but your angry stare deterred her. Defeated, she took a deep breath, heading towards the door. She glanced back at you, seeing you get up and disappear into your bedroom. Had it been the ‘old days,’ she’d follow you, but now, she was unwelcomed more than ever. She still remembered the good night’s sleep she had with you, craving for another chance like it. Her present nights were filled with terror.  

 She noticed the purple hyacinths, the flowers turning away from her, as if upset. They were sensitive to her emotions.

 “I’m so sorry…” Tyreen whispered, walking out of your hut.

 -----000000-------

 The Atlas doctor checked Troy’s temperature, inputting the information into a tablet while another medic administered a shot to the boy. Troy held on to the ragdoll when he felt the liquid enter his system. Tyreen was covering her eyes, nervous about the presence of the large needle.

 “Vitals are normal, temperature as well,” the doctor informed, “You made a quick recovery.”

 “Good, I don’t want to delay any further the experiments,” Steele said, standing by the holding cell’s entrance. Leto glared at her, growling.

 “My son still needs to fully recover! I’m not allowing this!” Leto stood in front of Troy. Steele stared her down.

 “Your input is irrelevant, I will separate you from your children,” Steele threatened, “Its only a courtesy to house you with them….”

 “It’s your fault he got sick in the first place! You and your fucking experiments!” Leto shouted, angry. The doctor and medic looked on, nervous. Tyreen hugged Troy, both of them scared. It was rare to see their mother extremely upset.

 “Cease your foolish behavior…” Steele warned, inching close, raising her Siren hand up, “Hephaestus isn’t here to rescue you…”

 “Why you…!” Leto hissed out.

 “Mummy!” Tyreen grabbed Leto’s hand, “Please don’t hurt our mummy! I’ll do whatever you want!” Leto looked down at Tyreen, afraid. Steele smirked, deactivated her powers.

 “See, she knows her place. You should as well,” Steele chuckled, ordering the doctor and medic to leave, “I’ll be seeing you around little sister.” The pale Siren left, but not before throwing a dirty look at Leto.

 “Mummy…” Troy whispered, holding Tyreen’s other hand. Tyreen wiped Leto’s tears as their mother broke down, sobbing.

 “Its okay, mummy….” Tyreen said.

 “I’m so sorry, sweetie…” Leto cried out, hugging her children.

 Home was not in Atlas. Family did not include a pale Siren monster.

 -----0000000-----

 Tyreen broke down, covering her face as she wept. She couldn’t handle it anymore, the rejection. The flowers weren’t the answer, she knew that, but she was hurting. Hurting more than ever that her mistake ruined any possibility for forgiveness. Helen, the beating, and now trying to hurt Perseus had made things worse.

 “Hurts like a sonabitch, right?”

 The white-haired Calypso wiped her tears, shoulders shaking as she looked up Troy. Her brother had a neutral expression on his face, but his tone held a hint of malice. Both were currently in their living room area, the night falling on the hub. It was only a few hours before the arena fight.

 “It’s not just the rejection, but your heart feeling like its being stomped on numerous times… that’s the stinger,” Troy added, drumming his fingers on the edge of the couch, “Do you like the feeling, Tyreen?”

 She looked down, growling. Then there was Troy, still taunting her with Perseus. The mechanic was back at his shift at the warehouse, but with you up and running again, you were still meeting with him at the bar, church, cathedral and about, Troy allowing it. Her brother had scolded her for glaring at Perseus prior to the raid.

 “You’ll get used it, I had to. Numerous times,” her brother said, giving her a tiny smirk, “Many, many times…”

 “Just stop… please…” Tyreen begged, hugging herself, “You won. You fucking won… She hates me… She despises me… Happy?” She wanted this to be over.

 “It’s not up to me anymore, Ty,” Troy shook his head, chuckling, “Its on her now, you did this to yourself.” Troy left the room, Tyreen feeling alone, lost.

 Broken.

 /Since when do you give a shit what I think?/

 Always, Tyreen thought.

 -----0000000------

 “Have you lost your mind?!” Perseus shouted, looking at you, “You are going to get beaten up, worse, killed! Jackal, help me out!” You, Perseus and Jackal were inside one of the priest’s study rooms, away from the Calypsos’ gaze and surveillance cameras.

 “He’s right, Andromeda, you can’t be acting reckless!” Jackal pleaded.

 You were putting on your boots, getting ready for the arena fight. Your mind was made up already, your friends’ pleas falling on deaf ears. Helen’s daggers were neatly placed on your belt, waiting for action.

 “I’ll be fine,” you said, flashing them a smile. This did little to calm them down.

 “Is this part of your plan? Please tell me it is… this is stupid!” Perseus yelled, standing in front of you.

 “It is, can’t let that bastard know I’m down,” you said, checking your wrist bands and adjusting your gloves, “He’s watching, everything for his sick entertainment. I need to provide it.” The last part came out automatic for you, spooking yourself.

 “Cetus?” Jackal asked, “The one who attacked the outposts?”

 “Yeah, he hasn’t changed after all these years, getting off from the pain I inflict on others,” you replied, staring ahead. You growled, shaking your head. The little monster was clawing your mind.

 “Like the Twin Gods…” Perseus added, glancing at Jackal. The priest frowned, the revelation providing new insight about you. One of the main reasons you disliked the Calypsos when you were first captured.

 /I never liked fighting, but I had to for survival./

 “….Yeah. Also, Perseus, did you get to finish that little project I asked about?” you tapped at your wrists, “I would like to try them out this fight.”

 Perseus sighed, taking out two items from his leather bag, placing them on a table. Jackal took a peek, noticing two small silver pins with a glowing blue center. Digistructors.

 “Where did you get the cells for it?” Jackal asked, seeing you put them on your wrists.

 “Scraps from old raids, managed to find two that semi-worked, juiced them up a bit,” Perseus explained, helping you adjust them, “This is only a prototype, I can’t say how long they’ll last if you get hits on it.”

 “That should be fine, as long as they work, we can improve them,” you said, grinning, “Jackal, what about the jacket?” The priest pushed a box forward from under the table your group gathered around, opening and taking out a crimson jacket with a hood. The sleeves were ripped off, the length adjusted to reach your midriff. Black fabric lined the inside, white embroidered lettering “JAWBREAKER” was placed on the back of the jacket, wedged between the jaws of a white skull set on fire. The skull’s lower jaw was broken, cracked.

 You touched the jacket, nodding, “Wow… I’m impressed Jackal.” The priest chuckled, Perseus smacking him on the back, whistling.

 “Holy shit, that’s cool. What’s with the ‘Jawbreaker’?” Perseus asked.

 “You’ll see,” you said, putting on the jacket, extending the hood to cover your head.

 Everyone will bear witness to it soon enough.

 Jackal checked his EchoNet device, “We should get moving, the celebration is about to start. There’s still time to back out, Andromeda.”

 You shook your head, “I’m fighting, Jackal. I’ll be okay, don’t worry.” You held out your fist to Perseus.

 The mechanic bumped your fist back, “Don’t do something stupid in the arena, you hear me? We’ll be watching!”

 “Alright, alright,” you teased, laughing.

 Time to shine, little monster said.

 ----000000-----

 Jackal escorted you down the hallway, heading towards the waiting room. The Calypsos did not greet you this time around, which you were fine with, not wanting to spoil your fun and the surprise. However, before you could reach your designated room, Donovan was outside, waiting.

 “Prophet Donovan,” you said, you and Jackal stopping a few feet from him. The priest growled.

 “Plaything,” Donovan started, “What are you up to?” He eyed the get-up you had. The general was aware of the Calypsos being vocal against you fighting this round. A complete opposite of themselves a year and half ago.

 “I’m not following,” you replied, getting irritated with his presence.

 “You disobeyed the God Queen several times, I figured the beating she gave you should have knocked some sense into you,” Donovan said, approaching you. His annoyance was visible on his face.

 Narrowing your eyes, you grinned, “She didn’t beat it into me hard enough it seems.” Jackal was glaring at Donovan.

 Donovan huffed, sneering at Jackal then at you, “Then perhaps next time, I shall offer my services to her.”

 You clenched your fists, chuckling, “Yeah, just don’t bring a gun or how about sending your lackies to do your dirty job.”

 “Why you-“ Donovan was about to initiate something, raising his fist.

 “Donovan.”

 You all turned to look at Pip who was down the hallway, cigarette in mouth. The medic general had his hands in his pockets, hunched, looking at his fellow general with disapproval, “We are being summoned, get a move on.”

 Donovan growled, spitting in front of you before walking away.

 “A prelude to something nice,” you said, smiling.

 Donovan stopped, turning to face you, “What?”

 “You asked what I’m up to,” you said, walking towards your room, Jackal following, “Something nice, I hope you enjoy it.”

 Pip snickered from where he was, enjoying the drama unfolding before him. The living are so much fun, he thought.

 ------0000000------

 Basil checked and made last minute fixes to the consoles, adjusting the feeds and making sure everything was in order for the Let’s Flay while Mouthpiece was going over the livestream settings. Behind them, the generals and the Calypsos congregated, looking over the EchoNet forums. Several photos were posted by the Unknown User aka “Master,” the first activity in many weeks since the outpost attacks.

 All of them showed images from the outposts that were destroyed, Jester creatures in chains standing in a dimly lit room, but the one that caught everyone’s attention was…

 A Vault gate.

 The location of the Vault was difficult to determine. From the angle, it seemed indoors, perhaps in a cavern. The visible walls had skulls with horns and crystals wedged on them, purple sludge pouring down from the mouths in a pool with people in it.

 “A Vault… huh, I know were not the only ones searching for them,” Moksha stated, “The Crimson Raider’s commander was a Vault Hunter as well as some of her associates.”

 “Why show us a Vault?” Donovan asked, eyeing the purple sludge.

 “I doubt its to taunt us, we’ve already opened several Vaults here in Promethea and other planets, Atlas opened one in Pandora as did Hyperion,” Troy said, glancing at Pip who was zooming in on the Vault image on his screen.

 “This purple sludge…. Could it be?” Pip pondered, tilting his head.

 “You got something, Pip?” Tyreen asked, noticing the medic general zoning out.

 “Those creatures, the vials… I thought it was blood, but what if its this purple sludge?” Pip observed, stepping back, “Are they using a liquid they found on a Vault on people?”

 The twins eyed the image, recalling the Red Vault. Mother required sacrifices to heal Troy, replenishing his vitality, that in turn increased his own strength and stamina. Was that the message ‘Master’ was sending to them? That he possessed something similar for the Jester creatures?

 “We’re ready to start, we go live in five,” Basil announced, Mouthpiece departing to his booth.

 “We shall discuss this after the Let’s Flay. Moksha, keep an eye on the forums and chats,” Troy ordered, him and Tyreen heading to the arena’s main platform stage.

 “On it!” Moksha said, bringing the displays to her side. Donovan watched the twins leave, refraining from participating this time. Troy was keeping face for the sake of the cult but was seething against his right-hand man.

 “Let’s be good sports and watch from behind the curtain, we don’t want to miss the God Queen’s plaything’s return to the arena,” Pip mused, “I’m just hoping I’m not picking up her pieces later on.” He laughed, earned a look of annoyance from Donovan.

 “Let’s hope it’s the latter,” Donovan muttered, crossing his arms.

 /A prelude to something nice./

 He had a feeling what you were planning wasn’t going to end well.

 Question was, on whom will tragedy befall to?

 -----0000000------

 “CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!” the crowd chanted, stomping their feet. Another successful raid, another successful victory for the Children of the Vault. All for the glory of the Calypsos.

 “LET ME HEAR YOU!” Mouthpiece shouted, his hologram riling up the cultists.

 “CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

 Fireworks went off, illuminating the dim arena, the surveyors flying around, capturing the enthusiasm of the cultists for the LiveScream. Moksha was monitoring the chat alongside Basil, the regular audience excited for another episode.

 “LET ME HEAR YOU AGAIN! FOR OUR TWIN GODS! FOR THE GLORY OF THE CALYPSOS!” Mouthpiece shouted with gusto, the crowd going wild. Some in the crowd were holding signs with the word ‘Calypso’ written on it.

 “THE GLORIOUS TWIN GODS HAVE DEFEATED THE LEECH! A CRUSHING BLOW AGAINST THE HEATHENS, THE CRIMSON ALLIANCE!” Mouthpiece announced, welcoming the Calypsos who entered their viewing area, “PRAISE THE CALYPSOS!”

 “CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

 The twins waved, grinning as their holograms appeared over the arena. Tyreen blew kisses to the crowd, flashing a victory sign while Troy snapped his jaws, laughing.

 “Welcome back everyone! Did you miss us?” Tyreen said, winking. The chats immediately exploded with hearts and little emotes of Tyreen. A flood of messages with ‘I (heart emoji) God Queen’ filled the chat, the online audience going crazy.

 “Don’t think we forgot about the Let’s Flay!” Troy said, holding his sword up, “We promised mayhem, and we deliver!” He stuck his tongue out, cackling while twirling his blade. This got everyone excited, the chat being bombarded with little skulls and snake emojis.

 “MAYHEM! MAYHEM! MAYHEM!” the crowd chanted.

 The last Let’s Flay was ‘successful’ in viewership, the drama surrounding the outcast ex-priestess invigorating temporarily the bloodlust of the cultists. Now, they craved more. Behind the scenes, a new kind of mayhem shook to the core their deities, rendering the Calypsos powerless to forces out of their control. And just like everything else…

 You were in the middle of it.

 No arena fights were conducted while you were recovering. Instead, the Calypsos focused on more raids to gain more ground after the attack on the CoV outposts. The battle with the Crimson Raiders escalated, the CoV pushing back by the most part in Pandora. The latest raid against Leech, an ally of the Crimson Raiders, was to squash their presence in Promethea. Their victory uncovered information about Lilith, the Firehawk creating a Crimson Alliance, several bandit groups joining her against the Children of the Vault.

 “We shall defeat those who oppose us!” the twins shouted, “Destroy the heathens!”

 “KILL THE HEATHENS! KILL THE HEATHENS!” the crowd shouted back. Alongside the Calypsos’ holograms were surveyor shots of the raid, showing Leech’s bandits getting pummeled by the armed cultists, several of them cut through by Troy’s blade while others had their energies sucked by Tyreen.

  The Calypsos’ holograms disappeared, replaced by Mouthpiece.

 “THE PLAYTHINGS ENTER THE ARENA!” Mouthpiece announced, signaling the fighters to enter. Bruisers, marauders, psychos, and Goliaths entered, ready for action. You walked in, receiving odd and confusing looks from everyone.

 Perseus, from the spectator’s area, grinned, amused by everyone’s reaction. The twins were baffled, shocked as they leaned over to get a better view of you.

 Standing outside your waiting room, you had the jacket’s hood on, but your face was covered by a particular psycho’s mask.

 Helen’s.

 Her infamous mask adorned with a bloody ‘T’ in the forehead in reverence to Troy. Above it, a gunshot had pierced through it, dry blood smeared with the letter, creating a cross.

 “The psycho mask…” Troy said, memories of the last fight coming up, Helen’s lifeless body in your arms as you cried. Tyreen was trying to keep calm, her own words ordering you to kill Helen resonating in her head. Donovan, who was watching from the backstage, narrowed his eyes when he saw the feed.

 “What the fuck is she doing?!” he hissed out.

 “Taunt the Viper and it will strike,” Pip said, chuckling when Donovan glared at him, “What? The crowd will love it. Jealous that she is one-uping your performance from the last fight?”

 Donovan growled, ignoring the medic general.

 Moksha glanced back at them, shaking her head. The chat got filled with questions, some bringing up Helen and others complimenting the look. An ‘Unknown User’ popped in, a smiling face by their name.

 .:Unknown User: : )

 “Shit, we got something, everyone,” Moksha said, communicating with the twins and the other generals. Troy and Tyreen copied, their attention not breaking from you. Master was indeed watching. The surveyors descended, dancing their way around the playthings, one of them following you around.

 “PLAYTHINGS! START THE BLOODY MAYHEM!” Mouthpiece shouted, the airhorn going off. You took off running, hunched over as you immediately jumped on marauder, twisting their head. The crowd hollered, whooping on the quick, first kill.

 “SICK KILL BY THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING!” Mouthpiece yelled, “THE FIRST KILL OF THE LET’S FLAY!”

 Tyreen and Troy watched intently, surprised by your actions. You were moving as if you hadn’t been stuck on bed for a month, easily dispatching the marauder with ease. With your face covered, it was difficult to tell if you were in pain.

 “We should have stopped her,” Tyreen whispered, looking over at Troy. He shook his head, “We tried.” They saw the back of your jacket, displaying the word ‘JAWBREAKER.’

 “D-Did you give her that?” Tyreen said, narrowing her eyes at Troy.

 “No. I haven’t given her anything,” Troy defended himself, “I don’t know where she got that from.” A ping from their EchoNet devices went off, a message displayed.

 .:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

 .:Unknown User: You’re in for a treat. I hope you like jawbreakers.

 .:Unknown User: :3c

 .:Unknown User: (candy emoji) (skull emoji)

 “This fucker…” Troy growled, throwing his EchoNet device aside. Tyreen put hers away, “Moksha, anything on the chats?”

 “He’s been posting images from the EchoNet forums into the chat, so far nothing extra,” Moksha radioed in.

 “Keep tabs on it-“ The sound of screams caught Tyreen off guard, the memory of your own screams coming back. But the ones she heard weren’t yours.

 The crowd hollered, gasping before cheering on. Troy shook Tyreen’s arm, his eyes glued to the arena, “What the fuck…” Tyreen’s eyes widened, at the sight.

 You were on top of a Goliath who was on the ground, squirming as you dug a ceremonial dagger into his mouth. The mask muffled your giggling as you tugged at the bandit’s jaw, ripping it off. Next to you and the Goliath laid a bruiser with his lower jaw gone, a dagger embedded on his forehead. The Goliath screeched in pain, trying to push you off as you held the broken, ripped jaw on your hand, tossing it aside.

 “GAAGKALJAHH!!!” the Goliath pushed you off, limping away. You landed nearby, hunched over in all fours, patting the ground before digistructing a chain out, whipping at the Goliath’s helmet.

 “THE PLAYTHING IS TOYING WITH THE GOLIATH?!” Mouthpiece announced.

 “PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!” the crowd chanted.

 “A digistructor…” Troy observed, noticing the lack of physical chains on your wrists and ankles, “When did she…” You were forbidden from entering the warehouse and nowhere in the Calypsos’ living quarters were areas with machinery or scraps for you to obtain.

 “Perseus,” Tyreen said, growling. The meetings. At the bar, at the cathedral, the smaller church, all those other places. Perseus had helped you construct it.

 Perseus was observing the fight, checking out the digistructor he created, making mental notes as he saw one of them flicker when you brought down the Goliath. He had spent countless hours trying to get it to function. He prayed that it would last the entire fight.

 You punched the Goliath, then started to choke him with the chains. Cackling, you removed the dagger from his broken, torn mouth, picking up the one on the bruiser.

 “PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!”

 “THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS BRINGING CHAOS AND MAYHEM TO THIS FIGHT!” Mouthpiece shouted, the surveyors chasing you as you kept pouncing on other playthings, keeping them in place with the chains and stabbing into their mouths with the daggers. The ground got littered with ripped lower jaws, some of the fighters screaming as they held their bleeding mouths, trying to pull at the chains left around their necks.

 “BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!”

 You raised your hands up, gesturing for the crowd to increase their chants.

 “PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!”

 You started clapping, the crowd following, going crazy.

 The twins and the generals were shocked, watching you mess with the crowd. You grabbed several discarded lower jaws, throwing them at the spectators. Several cultists jumped to grab them, cheering on.

 “You got to be fucking kidding me…” Troy snorted, unsure whether to laugh or be amazed, “I didn’t think of that!” He resorted to laughing, still surprised at your ‘playful’ demeanor. Tyreen wasn’t sure either how to react, believing from the beginning that you were going to have a hard time fighting.

 The chat went crazy, filled with heart emojis, psycho masks, and daggers.

 “What?! She’s giving away those jaws!”       “SMH I wish I was there…!”    “FUCKING SWEET!”

 “JAWBREAKER! I finally get the name on her jacket!”      “DAMNIT, I want my own souvenir!”

 Another ping came through the EchoNet devices of the Calypsos, both of them looking.

 .:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

 .:Unknown User: The arena no longer belongs to you.

 .:Unknown User: It belongs to her now.

 .:Unknown User: Her glorious stage, now fit for the Queen. (crown emoji)

 The twins narrowed their eyes, confused about the message. Was he talking about your current behavior right now?

 “THE PLAYTHING IS GIVING OUT HER SPOILS!” Mouthpiece announced, fireworks going off, “BUT THE OTHERS ARE STILL IN THE ARENA!”

 You waved at the crowd, running around the edges of arena pit before jumping on the wall, then to the upper platforms. This alarmed the Calypsos who quickly ran to the side.

 “H-HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Mouthpiece asked, his feed cutting off.

 “Nobody get near her!” Troy ordered, pushing aside the armed guards, cursing. This reminded him of the fight with Cepheus where the old Viper and you ended up destroying part of the arena. Tyreen was behind Troy, smacking the surveyors away, “W-What is she doing up there?!”

 The crowd was anxious as well, watching you jump further up in the platforms into the exposed roof beams. Perseus watched with concern, shouting at you when he saw you slip a bit. He was hoping your plan would work. You were tying something, blocked from everyone’s view.

 You gazed down at the arena and at the Calypsos, waiting. Until you saw Donovan rush out from behind the stage alongside Basil and Moksha, you jumped down, the crowd gasping and yelling.

 “F-Fuck! HEY!” Troy yelled out, jumping and rushing over into the arena, armed guards following him. Tyreen watched in horror as you descended down, not noticing the chains digistructed and anchored from a top. Gracefully, you landed, extending your arms up before pulling down at the chains. A green, short barreled pistol digistructed from your one of pins on your wrist, a quick shot from you aimed up broke the chain knot on the roof.

 The struggling playthings gagged, being lifted up several feet up in the air, dangling and choking. Troy and the armed cultists stopped on their tracks, looking up at the hanged bodies. Perseus, alongside the crowd, grew quiet. Tyreen edged closer from the viewing platform, staring at the bodies.

 The bodies were hanged in formation.

 A triangle.

 “Ta-da!” you giggled, twirling the gun up in the air and catching it with your other hand, bowing at the crowd who broke out in cheers. The gun digistructed back into the pin.

 “PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!” the crowd shouted, roaring, “MAYHEM! MAYHEM! MAYHEM!”

 You threw your fist up in the air, jumping and waving at the crowd. Troy stared at you from a distance. The first image sent by Master had displayed hanged bodies in a triangular formation. Were you responsible for that? Troy dismissed the armed cultists, retreating as well, the question now plaguing his mind. Perseus took opportunity to leave, Tyreen keeping an eye on him.

 “Mouthpiece, call the victor…” Tyreen radioed in, getting confirmation from Mouthpiece. Her little jealousy monster was still present.

 “THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS VICTORIOUS!” Mouthpiece announced, “PRAISE THE CALYPSOS FOR THIS WONDERFUL PERFORMANCE!”

 “CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

 You waved as you retreated back to your room, cartwheeling and flipping. Donovan, near Tyreen and the others, glared at you, not liking your display.

 /A prelude to something nice, I hope you enjoy it./

 ------0000000-------

 Walking into your waiting room, you collapsed, Jackal catching you. Shaking, you removed the psycho mask, breathing heavily. Perseus barged in, slamming the door.

 “Holy shit, when you said you were going to bait them, I wasn’t expecting you throw yourself from the fucking roof!” Perseus shouted, helping Jackal sit you on the lone chair in the room.

 “Ugh, no, ‘hey, that was fucking sick, man!’ comment?” you teased, out of breath. Jackal sighed, taking the mask away from you.

 “You said you weren’t going to do anything reckless!” Perseus rubbed his face, “I saw the damn digistructor flickering and malfunctioning, what if it gave out while you jumped down?”

 You shrugged, “I don’t know, I go splat?”

 “Andromeda…” Jackal started, helping you remove the wrist bands.

 “Don’t ‘Andromeda’ me in that disappointing parental tone, my brother failed numerous times,” you said, grinning, “Did I ever tell you he was guilty of encouraging me in pranking others?”

 “No,” both Perseus and Jackal responded, frustrated. They both wondered if his attitude was the same as yours. The priest handed over the wrist bands over to Perseus with the digistructors. One of them spewed out the green gun, the item landing on the ground.

 “I wasn’t expecting a gun already pre-loaded into the digistructor, Perseus,” you said, picking up the gun. The green gun had the words ‘Green with Envy’ alongside some chains engraved on the barrel, the grip containing specks of sparkling gem dust.

 “The ‘Helenite,’” Perseus said, “Figured you needed something else other than the chains.”

 “Named after her,” you whispered, admiring the feel and look of the gun, “I’m assuming this is the one that you two used to shoot the mask…”

 “…Yes,” Jackal said, holding Helen’s mask, “I wanted Troy to remember what happened to her.” His own type of revenge mixed with yours. You wanted also Troy to never forget Helen and payback for using Perseus against Tyreen.

 “We’re playing with hellfire around here,” you mused, liking their way of thinking.

 “Well, you got their attention alright, even Prophet Donovan came out,” Perseus helped you to stand, “Now what?”

 “They’ll ask questions, I’ll answer few, if all goes well, then I can jump into the second phase,” you stated.

 “….You’re getting too reckless…” Perseus said, Jackal also looking at you. They had noticed your change in mood, smiling to completely wanting to punch someone. At first, they thought it was due to your bedrest and getting banned from the warehouse, but after hearing about the Calypso outpost attacks, you went on and on about Cetus. You had explained to Perseus and Jackal that Cetus had instilled in you to be flashy with your kills, viewing it as a performance, and ode to life and death. This Let’s Flay had demonstrated more brutality on your part, your flair for it.

 For now, your target was Donovan.

 “Never been reckless in my life, its been a game from the beginning,” you said, smiling, staring down at the floor, “Who gets to snap first.” A cold, deadly smile.

 Perseus and Jackal blinked.

 Who gets to snap first?

 You handed the gun to Perseus, heading towards the door, “They are probably waiting.”

 “What if your plan doesn’t work…?” Perseus asked, worried. He gave the gun to Jackal, who placed it away in a holster.

 You paused, hand on the door knob as you turned to face at Perseus and Jackal, smiling, your expression unsettling, “Then I will……” Opening the door, you walked out, gently closing it.

 Walking down the hallway to the medical room, you kept smiling, feeling high of bloodlust. You could hear Troy and Tyreen talking on the other side as you paused in front of the doors.

 “I will kill them all until I see red,” you grinned, chuckling.

 Master would certainly be pleased.

 ------00000000------

 Tyreen cupped your face with her hands, her Siren tattoos glowing as she healed your wounds and injuries from the arena fight. She checked your side, healing that area. Troy was next to you, patiently waiting. With his own energy low, he couldn’t assist. You waited for Tyreen to finish, anxious. It was difficult keeping your body under control with her nearby.

 “That seems to be it. Pip will check your side after you’re cleaned up,” Tyreen said, ushering you to the bathtub. You removed your clothes, stepping into the tub. The twins left you to wash yourself, busying themselves with grabbing fresh clothes and towels.

 They kept glancing at you from time to time, staring when you washed your hair, the triangle scar peeking through from the back of your head. You were still tight-lipped about it, but you had shown you were aware of the situation with the Calypsos’ feud with ‘Master.’ From the fight, they speculated you were responsible for the first photo with the hanging bodies. The twins wanted to ask, although uncertain on how to proceed. The kept quiet, waiting for the right moment.

 You removed the water stopper, grabbing a towel to dry yourself.

 “Are you two done staring?” you asked, not looking back at them as you got up, putting the towel around your body, getting out of the tub.

 Both twins blinked, coughing awkwardly. You paid no attention to them, getting dressed. Drying your hair, you approached them, annoyed.

 “So, I go to the infirmary, or the doc is coming over?” you inquired.

 “He’s waiting outside, I’ll let him in,” Troy said, heading towards the exit doors. You sat back on the examination bed, tossing the towel to the side. Tyreen remained in her spot, avoiding your gaze. The last time you were in the medical room, the Siren Calypso had punished you, kicking her brother out, leaving you behind. She was getting antsy, remembering.

 “About time, I thought you three were… you know,” Pip said, Troy rolling his eyes at the implication. The medic general made his way over to you, opening the drawers on a nearby counter, getting out ointment and gloves, “I have to say, you put a damn show out there.” You lifted your shirt up, allowing him to examine and apply the medication on your stitched-up side.

 “Pretty tame, somewhat,” you said, staring down at the floor. This caught the twins’ attention. Tame? You hung up several bodies during a LiveScream, ripped and threw the other playthings’ lower jaws at the crowd and threw yourself off the roof. That was beyond tame.

 “Oh, how so?” Pip glanced at the twins, who nodded, wanting him to make conversation. You were more talkative to others about the subject than with the Calypsos.

 “Remember the jester? It’s more gruesome when they’re involved,” you chuckled, recalling the fights. The soft flesh. The taste of their blood.

 Your demeanor was changing again.

 “Huh, you don’t say… Speaking about that ‘jester’ thing, what exactly is that?” Pip finished applying the ointment. He pressed your side several times, checking for points of pain. You didn’t flinch, only smiling. He blinked, finding this odd.

 “A poor bastard that no longer remembers who they are, mindless, only a little toy….” You muttered, trailing off, “Just warm-ups… Sad little things… Very soft…” You were swaying from side to side.

 “What’s going on?” Troy asked, Pip stopping him from approaching you. Tyreen looked on, worried. You were more unhinged this time around, worse than the previous fights.

 “She seems to be having an episode, something from the fight triggered it,” Pip explained, waving his hand in front of your face. You didn’t react. He snapped his fingers.

 “W-What?” you jerked up, blinking, “Fuck…” You grabbed your head, growling. The little monster pouted, upset at being pushed away.

 “You spaced out on us,” Pip explained, lifting your head up by your chin, “Do you recall anything?”

 “N-No…” you said, a bit nervous. It was happening again. The little monster was slowly taking control. She was getting fed up with you.

 “What’s the last thing you remember?” Pip asked, checking your eyes with a small light. The Calypsos were caught off guard, this being new to them.

 “I-I.. I don’t know… the infirmary…?” You offered, memory hazy.

 “Walk me through it, what did you do there?” Pip asked, waiting.

 “I went for a check-up… a medic was applying medication on my stitches… Troy walked in… I don’t remember the talk, I went outside the hallway…” you paused, trying to remember, “I saw you with Tyreen, more talking… after that… I just..”

 You were having trouble recalling the talks with Tyreen in your hut, Perseus and Jackal trying to stop you from fighting, entering the arena, and the fight.

 “I’m not sure if you got an injury to your head from what happened with Tyreen or something is causing you to blackout,” Pip crossed his arms, looking at Tyreen, “Care to clarify?”

 Tyreen looked away, angry, “I-I didn’t hit in her head if that’s what you are implying…” Troy growled, the subject being touchy. Pip could care less, it had to do with your health.

 “You may have overexerted yourself today. This is why I was against you fighting, but you went all superhero trying to prove a point to whatever that asshole is watching,” Pip shook his head, “No more of this, get rest, I mean it.”

 You nodded, taking deep breaths, “I will...” The little monster laughed, enjoying your pain. You were going to beat yourself up later on for slipping. At least the little monster was playing along with your plan.

 Pip crossed his arms, looking at the twins, “I’m going to put her in a body cast if she keeps this up.”

 “W-What! No!” you protested, the medic general laughing. Tyreen sighed while Troy joined in, ruffling your hair.

 “I’ll take my leave, and I’m serious, plaything,” Pip bowed, leaving the medical room. You put your hood on, pulling at the strings of the jacket to cover your face completely.

 “Hey,” Troy said, pulling open the hood, “Don’t do that. Besides, where did you get that jacket?” You put your hands in your pants’ pockets.

 “A gift from a friend,” you stated, “For my recovery.” Partly a lie. You requested the outfit from Jackal.

 “Friend…” Tyreen muttered. Troy glared at her before talking, “Perseus?”

 “No, Jackal,” you replied, getting up from the examination table. The twins weren’t surprised, the priest had been friendlier with you despite what happened with his daughter.

 “You… you have a lot of explaining to do, you know?” Troy said, grabbing your arm.

 “About?” you asked, the little monster enjoying this.

 “The fight, that jester thing… starting with the ‘Jawbreaker’ name,” Troy narrowed his eyes.

 “And that triangle mark,” Tyreen said, “You claimed Master was behind the outpost attacks, knowing that he’s been watching, we need answers.”

 They took the bait. The little monster danced with glee in your mind.

 “Jawbreaker,” you started, trying to contain your excitement, “My rookie name in the fights…” You stared into the distance, digging your nails into your old scars on your arms. The unhinged, bloody, gruesome fights in the ring.

 “Rookie name…?” Tyreen asked. Master had kept calling you ‘Queen’ in the messages, only recently making mention of the candy.

 You took a deep breath, “Yeah, on fights put together by an organization called Trinity. The individual you know as ‘Master’ controls it. For corporate bigwigs, politicians as well, celebrities and the sort. Their symbol is an upside down triangle.” You touched your triangular scar on the back of your head. Turning to face the twins, you continued your tale. You tried to keep a neutral expression, but the memories were making it difficult.

 “I was baptized with that nickname, for the manner I’d kill others,” you tugged at your own lower jaw, “Breaking and ripping their lower jaws off.” Troy absentmindedly touched his own, a bit unnerved.

 /What you have here is mere child’s play!/ The dead haunting the living, Cepheus’s words ringing again.

 “And the chains?” Troy asked.

 “I was trained that way by Cepheus,” you replied, rubbing your wrists, “He was known to use whips, I used chains, hanging bodies…” Tyreen placed her hand on your arm, tracing the old scars. You flinched slightly, but kept still.

 “That’s how you knew to fight, back with the Skullmashers,” Tyreen said. You closed your eyes, memories of your old life as a free bandit flashing in your mind. Those same skills helped you survive the wastes for three years.

 Troy frowned, his hand resting on your shoulder, “The Atlas stronghold?”

 “A shipping outpost for Trinity in Promethea, but it belongs to someone else,” you said, grabbing your head, “That Jester you saw was probably being transported somewhere, the cold keeps them immobile. He was also a product of experiments conducted by Trinity…” That you had part of, but that was irrelevant at the moment.

 “Who does it belong to?” Tyreen asked.

 “The Rat King,” you replied, opening your eyes, tears stinging, “The bandit lord works for Trinity, he supplies people to the organization for experiments.” You coughed, rubbing your eyes. It was getting difficult to keep calm.

 /The rat from the east./

 “You don’t have to continue,” Tyreen whispered, “We’ll finish this later…” She glanced at Troy, who nodded. He picked you up, startling you.

 “H-Hey, put me d-down!” you tried to get off, but Troy kept a firm grip on you. The rollercoaster of emotions had worn you out.

 “You need to rest, Pip is serious about the full body cast,” Troy said, “Think of this as a favor.” He chuckled as you gave up, crossing your arms.

 “Fine,” you muttered, deciding to indulge the twins this time around.

 As long as they took your little baits.

 -----0000000------

 The frigid cold air in the holding cell did little to affect your body, having grown accustomed to it after months in the freezer back in the Atlas stronghold. Even in your current outfit, a simple sleeveless, white jacket over a black tank top and black shorts, barefoot, your body was complaining it was too hot. Maybe you were nervous? Maybe excited?

 This was your first fight, your debut within Trinity.

 After months and months of intense, torturous training under Cepheus, it was decided you were ready. You didn’t protest, partly to please the man who saved you, the other part you wanted to unleash the stress and anger you had inside. In your mind, all the pent-up emotions created something: a little monster. A little monster that cheered you on, goading you not to give anyone the satisfaction of your defeat.

 Now, it wanted to come out and play alongside you in your first fight.

 Cetus squeezed your hand, whispering assurances. You stared ahead, waiting for the doors to open. Cetus stepped back as Cepheus adjusted the collar on your neck and the chains around your wrists and ankles: Your preferred weapons.

 “Make me proud,” Cetus said, watching as the door in front of them opened with a loud hiss. You took a deep breath, stepping forward.

 Cepheus whistled a little tune, clicking with his tongue. You stood erect, eyes wide, then hunched over, giggling. The little monster was ready.

 “Kill them all until you see red… GO!” Cepheus ordered. You rushed over into the small ring, the glaring spotlights casted on you and another individual on the opposite side. Your opponent, a young man wearing a black jacket, white pants, and steel-toed boots, sneered at your presence.

 “This bitch is my opponent? I’m going to break her fucking face,” the fighter spat out, popping his knuckles. Cetus sat in the upper deck in the spectator area, Cepheus standing next to him, arms behind his back as they both stared down. You only smiled, ignoring his taunt.

 “Hey! You better not fucking cry and piss yourself when I knock that that stupid smile off your face!” the fighter took out a retractable rod from his jacket, sparks coming out in the end, “Let’s get this over with!”

 “This beautiful buttercup makes her debut into the ring, ladies and gentlemen! Place your bets! Who will win?” Winona announced, clad in a bright outfit, pointing at you, “The little pearl doll vs this brutish asshole GO, GO!” The fighter lunged forward, roaring. The small group of corporate bigwigs laughed, made comments about how the fighter was going to deck and beat you up. While they kept taunting, Cetus chuckled, signaling Cepheus.

 The Viper bandit whistled a tune. You readied up, immediately dodging the fighter’s first attack, landing a kick on his side.

 “Gah! You fucking bitch!” he shouted, swinging the rod again, hitting you on the shoulder. You laughed, grabbing it and pulling him towards you, headbutting him. He grabbed his nose, unable to block a barrage of kicks to his stomach. Using the chains, you swung at his knees, causing him to stumble forward.

 “What! Impossible!” an old man shouted, slamming his fists on his chair, “What the fuck is happening!? This better not be fucking rigged! There’s no way she’s having the upper hand!”

 Cetus laughed, mocking the old man, “You sure are full of yourself, she is capable of taking down this brute, be quiet and watch.” Cepheus snorted, glaring at the old man. He had trained you.

 “She delivers blow and kick after kick and blow! Oh, halleluiah, look at that leg work, ladies and gentlemen! This brutish asshole cannot land a hit!” Winona ranted, getting excited, jumping in place, “IS IT ME OR IS IT GETTING HOT, HOT, HOT?!”

 The fighter was unable to block, any attempts were thwarted with your chain attacks as you whipped them around, striking at his flesh. Blood splattered everywhere, the stench in the arena getting heavier and heavier. Deeply inhaling, you relished the scent as you stared down the fighter with a gleeful expression.

 “Y-You.. fucking… bitch…” the fighter hissed out, “I’m going to show you… not to mess with me!” He dug into his arms, revealed several vials filled with purple liquid.

 “Uh-Oh! Looks like someone is going to resort using the goods! AHAHAH!” Winona cackled, “Will the little buttercup make it through this fight?!” The spectators cheered, excited.

 “KILL HER! END HER!” the old man shouted, “I’M BETTING GOOD MONEY ON YOU ASSHOLE!”

 “Shut the fuck up you wrinkly old bastard!” Winona screeched out, “NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO BE LOUD IN HERE OTHER THAN ME!” She took out a gun, pointing at the old man, “Yell again and I will shoot you!” She cocked the gun.

 The old man growled, shrinking back on his seat. Cetus chuckled, shaking his head, “Winona, tone it down, please. It’s only a playful banter.”

 “Yes, Master!” Winona said, putting away her gun, resuming her commentary, “The brutish asshole has activated the serum in his system! Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to given a spectacular fight!”

 The fighter’s arms and legs grew in size, bulging mass, causing him to hunch over in all fours. You only stared, giggling and clapping.

 “sToP giGgLiNg yOu biTcH!” the fighter shouted, his voice deeper and raspy, “I will kill you!” He lunged forward, landing a punch on you. This threw you back, the crowd gasping, some standing to get a better look. Cetus leaned forward, waiting. You remained on the ground, sprawled.

 The fighter began to laugh, his garbled voice echoing in the ring, “Hahaha! I told you I’d wipe that fucking smile off your face! Didn’t last long!”

 Before Winona could announce anything, another laughing voice mingled with his. The fighter stopped laughing, eyeing your body. Your body shook as you kept laughing, rolling on your back.

 You were alive.

 “AHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHA!” you smacked the ground several times, standing up, swaying back and forth, “Ehehehhehee……!”

 “What the fuck?!” the fighter shouted, stepping back. Winona screeched in excitement, “SHE’S FUCKING ALIVE FOLKS AND NOT HINDERED BY THE MEGA PUNCH OF THE BRUTISH ASSHOLE!”

 “What the hell, she shouldn’t have survived that!”   “She’s still laughing!”

 “Is she using the serum as well?”      “How is she still standing?”

 Cetus smirked, enjoying the confusion from the crowd. You had no body mods and serum in your system, what everyone was looking at, that was your pure form, molded by training. Everyone was to bear witness to it.

 “Stop laughing!” the fighter yelled, roaring as he delivered another punch. You landed against the wall, falling forward, still laughing. He was about to punch you before you dodged, rolling away and standing up, laughing.

 “S-STOP IT!” he kept shouted, “STOP LAUGHING!”

 “Ehehhee….!” You kept dodging his attacks, some of them landing, but you quickly recovered. The fighter didn’t stop, trying to crush you. It wasn’t long before everyone saw he was getting fatigued, breathing heavily. Cetus smiled.

 You were pushing your opponent to the limit.

 “Y-You fucking… bitch…!” he breathed out, struggling to maintain his form. His body further mutated, causing him pain. One of his arms shrunk while the other grew bigger in size, causing him to stumble.

 “THE PRECIOUS DOLL HAD A STRATEGY LADIES AND GENTLMEN! WHAT A FUCKING AMAZING PULL!” Winona shouted, stomping the floor, “WHAT GRACE!”

 You tilted your head, giggling, then lunged forward. The crowd gasped, glued to your movements as you dodged a punched, using a chain to wrap it around your opponent. He gagged, gasping for air. You pulled down at the chains, your opponent falling backwards on his back. Stepping on his face, you used another chain to keep his jaw open. He tried to grab you, but you punched his lower jaw, causing him to screech.

 “SHE DELIVERS A BRUTAL BLOW!” Winona announced, excited, “SHE IS DOMINATING THIS!”

 You delivered another punch after punch, laughing, breaking his lower jaw. Before he could react more, you tugged at it, pulling hard, ripping it off.

 “RIPPED IT CLEAN!” Winona yelled, “SHE RIPPED HIS FUCKING LOWER JAW OFF!” She screeched, amazed.

 The crowd went wild, cheering and whooping. You held the broken jaw in your hand, laughing. The fighter thrashed, holding his bleeding mouth. Growling, the old man slammed his fist down.

 “Unacceptable! There is still no way!” he said, standing up, turning to face Cetus.

 “I can assure you, there is no rigging here,” Cetus brought up a screen, pressing a code, “You can see for yourself.” A loud hiss alerted you of newcomers that fell from the roof. Their giggling mingled with yours.

 Three Jesters.

 The lobotomized bandits stared at you, grinning, displaying their sharp teeth, courtesy of body mods. Cetus snapped his fingers, the jesters immediately running towards you. Humming a little tune, you jumped, dodging their initial attacks. One of the jesters managed to grab your leg, swinging you up, another jester punching you in mid-air. You landed on the ground, the last jester delivering a kick.

 Rolling over, you cackled, wiping the blood from your mouth. The jesters regrouped, laughing as well.

 “Bye, bye…” you sang out, rushing forward and delivering a kick to one of the jesters, pouncing and twisting their head. The remaining jesters screeched at their fallen comrade, weeping. Angered, they tried to land punches, but you dodged, causing them to land hits on each other. Using the chains, you coiled it around one of the legs of the jesters, dragging them towards you. Before they could react, you bashed their head on the ground, blood splattering on you.

 The last remaining jester cried out, “Friend….!”

 The little monster wanted the jester to reunite with their friends. Who were you to deny that request? You rushed forward, punching the jester on the face, bringing them down. The jester tried to bite you but was met with your fist. Punch after punch after punch, you kept going.

 “No rigging, my friend. She’s even able to take down three jesters by herself,” Cetus said.

 “You control those jesters! Its easy to make them tame to be punching bags!” the old man countered. The commented did not sit well with the others.

 “How dare you question Master!” the other people in the crowd surrounded the old man, “We cannot allow that…” The old man stepped back, snarling.

 “I have important business and political connections! Don’t you dare lay a hand on me!” he shouted. The crowd grew restless, inching closer to the old man. A hand was placed on his shoulder, startling him.

 Cetus smiled, “Please everyone, no need to get violent. We shall talk this out, civilized.” He was met with a chorus of ‘Yes, Master,’ the crowd dispersing to their seats. The corporate bigwigs and politicians still sneered at the old man.

 “Come now, let me show you something,” Cetus said, ushering the old man close to the ring, gesturing down at you. Sitting on top of the Jesters’ bodies, you remained oblivious to the drama unfolding in the spectator area, only smiling.

 “While others resort to the serum or dirty tactics, she uses strategy and the ability to read her opponents… something that I feel many have forgotten,” Cetus explained, tapping on the old man’s shoulder, “Her youthful look lures others to think she’s weak before she strikes.”

 “What are you getting at?” the old man accused, “It’s hard to believe she doesn’t have body mods…”

 “How about you look for yourself?” Cetus asked, face neutral.

 “Wha- AH!” the old man was pushed by Cetus into the ring, the crowd quickly going towards the edge of the arena, joyous at new action.

 “What is the meaning of this?!” the old man shouted, struggling to get up. Winona grinned, chuckling, “Don’t insult Master’s pet… that’s insulting him directly…” The crowd began laughing, pointing at the old man. Cetus stood there, expression still neutral but tranquil fury oozing through his eyes. Cepheus, approached him, waiting for the next command.

 “N-NO! NO!” the old man shouted, turning to face you, frightened.

 You were staring at him, smiling. New prey. The little monster loved having new toys to play with.

 “Cepheus,” Cetus said, “Send the order.”

 Cepheus whistled, clicking with his tongue. You got up, limping forward before rushing to the old man who screamed. Pouncing on him, you started to choke him with your chains, his feeble attempts to hit you causing you laugh. You pried his mouth open with the end of the chain, ripping his lower jaw out. You didn’t stop there, digging into his eyes, ripping his tongue out, the spray of blood landing on your face. Delirious with bloodlust, you zoned out the laughter and cheering from above, more concerned in feeling the soft flesh under your fingertips.

 You started punching his face, hearing the sickening crack of the delicate bones, ripping and tearing flesh. Cetus watched from above, amused. Cepheus by his part, tried to keep calm, his constitution wavering as he watched you pummel the now dead old man further.

 Overkill.

 A complete monster.

 “Ladies and gentlemen…. THE JAWBREAKER IS VICTORIOUS!” Winona announced, bright flashing of lights going off, “A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE JAWBREAKER!” Your first victory. You made it out alive and were bestowed a name.

 The crowd of corporate bigwigs and politicians applauded, cheering and congratulating Cetus for your win. Cetus smiled, proud. You looked up at him, grinning through the blood.

 He had wonderful plans for you.

 You were part of the Trinity family now.

 ------000000000-------

 Troy moved his jaw, then split it open, eyeing himself on the full-length mirror located in the Calypsos’ living room area. Although he hadn’t gotten in a physical fight with you since the raid at the Skullmasher’s bandit camp, he was nervous on how quickly you subdued the other playthings and ripped their jaws off. His own jaws ached just thinking about it.

 “I highly doubt she’ll rip yours out,” Tyreen said, picking up on his discomfort. She was currently sitting on the lavish couch, petting your hair. You were passed out, laying on the couch with your head on Tyreen’s lap, Troy’s jacket covering you up. The twins had brought you back to their living quarters for the night since their place was closest to the arena than your hut. You were exhausted by the time you arrived to complain further, freaking Tyreen out when you got comfortable and fell asleep on her. She was the nearest source for warmth.

 The tall Calypso snapped his jaws back, adjusting, “I know… I’m more of a ‘tear into people’s throats’ than the ripping their jaws off kind of dude… I guess I got used to the playthings just shooting at each other.” He approached Tyreen and you, sitting on top of the make-shift ottoman.

 “So, Trinity, huh? Corporate and politicians mingling and using bandits for their sick stuff,” Troy mused, reaching out to pat you on the cheek. You squirmed, but didn’t stir from your sleep.

 “Rich people have too much time on their hands,” Tyreen said, resting her hand on your head, “But it seems they like to make friends with bandit lords. This Rat King, he never got into our territory and I’m surprised he never counterattacked after the Atlas stronghold raid.”

 “If he’s working for Master and his organization, maybe he was ordered not to attack,” Troy growled, “Probably cause we had to retreat from that fucker creature.” He grabbed his dim red vial, the feeling of his back getting torn burned into his mind. Tyreen glanced at the vials, frowning.

 “We’ll have to go back to mother, so she can replenish them,” Tyreen whispered, knowing how much Troy hated the blood rituals, “The sacrifices aren’t enough at the moment to keep you up for another raid.”

 Troy rubbed his face in frustration, “Ugh, I know… Leech picked up on that, if other groups do… fuck, its just one big mess.”

 “We haven’t made much progress in the Vaults as well,” Tyreen began playing with your hair, enjoying the soft feel of it, “The Crimson Alliance are also chasing Vaults and with that picture that Master jerk sent, so does he. I wonder if she knows anything about that?”

 “Perhaps. At least she’s talking to us about it…” Troy rested his arms on his lap, staring at your sleeping form.

 “….I wanted to ask about that Siren,” Tyreen looked down at you, frowning, “Pip said Steele was a higher-up from the Atlas’ Crimson Lance, notoriously known by the other corporations for her brutality with bandits.”

 “Who happened to kill the mechanic’s brother,” Troy added, checking out the old scars on your arm, “I guess she saw it happen.”

 “And why she kept calling me a monster from the beginning…” Tyreen sighed, leaning back against the couch, “’Sirens are a plague, monsters’ is what she told me in the infirmary…” Troy shook his head, letting go of your hand.

 “You need to keep your jealousy in check,” Troy warned, standing up, “Be grateful that at least she’s letting you get near.” He gestured at you, your head resting on Tyreen’s lap.

 Tyreen nodded, sighing, “To think that I’m at the whim of a plaything…” She wasn’t denying that she was in love with you.

 “I guess we both are,” Troy said, heading down the hallway.

 “You’re going to bed now?”

 “I’m just going to freshen up, bringing some blankets and pillows over,” Troy replied, his voice growing faint, “I’ll switch with you when I come back.”

 “For what?” Tyreen was confused, you were going to be taken to your old bedroom.

  “Sleepover in the living room!” he shouted, laughing. Tyreen snorted, a tiny smile on her face. At least her brother was being more cordial with her at the moment.

 ------000000-------

 Hephaestus kept ranting about Eridian artifacts and languages, lost in thought, not noticing the straggler grabbing on to his lab coat. You held on tight with your tiny hands as your brother walked around his lab.

 “If I’m able to decipher this codex, I should be able to pinpoint a Vault, but it leaves into question how to open the damn thing without it alerting everyone and their mothers,” Hephaestus said, pausing. You bumped into him, yelping.

 “Or maybe I can create a device to only pierce a bit the portal, one-person entry!” Hephaestus shouted, resuming his walk, dragging you further around the floor.

 “Epa!” you squealed, trying to get his attention, “Epa!” Your brother stopped, turning to look at your empty playpen, “What….” He looked down, startled.

 “What the fuck, how did you get out?!” Hephaestus knelt down, amazed.

 “FUCK!” you shouted, laughing.

 “O-Oh no! Don’t! Nope, nope! Naughty girl!” Hephaestus scolded you but you giggled when he wagged a finger at you. Your brother gazed at the playpen, noticing a hole ripped through the side.

 “How did you manage to get out?” he wondered out loud, pondering. He suddenly yelped, feeling your teeth sink into his hand.

 “Ow, ow, ow! No! Let go!” Hephaestus pleaded, trying to pry you off his hand. You complied, huffing.

 “Ow, that hurt, you Shorty McShortyface,” he said, heading to the lab sink to wash the wound, “Great, you’re teething already at this stage? Explains how you chewed through the playpen net…” You pouted, sitting on the floor.

 Hephaestus cleaned the wound, dressing it up. He checked his cabinets, taking out a small vial of pills and popping one into his mouth. He eyed his wound, then back at you. You flashed him a toothy grin, small sharp teeth peeking through.

 “Huh, just like me when I was your age…” Hephaestus said, frowning, “You’re not even a year old and yet you have excelled the benchmarks of a full-grown toddler.” He went to his computer, bringing up a file up titled ‘VULCAN PROJECT.’ His expression soured at seeing a picture of his younger self there.

 “To think I’d have to consult with this to figure out how to take care of you….” Hephaestus whispered, feeling hands on his leg. He looked down, meeting your curious gaze.

 “Sleep,” you said, pointing at the clock on the wall. The red letters glared back at Hephaestus, marking late hours of the night, close to the morning of the next day.

 “Oh… you wanted me to go to sleep…” he blinked, picking you up, “I’m here trying to take care of you and yet you are the one looking after me…. Displaying strong social bonds… even communicating at your extremely young age… Other kids would just throw a temper tantrum,” He hugged you gently, heading to the crib. You fussed, grabbing on to him.

 “No…” you shook your head, “Sleep…!”

 “Ugh… okay… I’ll let you sleep next to me,” Hephaestus headed to his own bed, next to your crib. He placed you on the bed, going to your crib to pick up your pillow and blankets as well as a stuffed toy. Making yourself comfortable, you settled down, hugging your toy, waiting for your brother. He went to another room to change, coming out in a shirt and loose pants. You babbled on, patting the spot next to you.

 “Fine, fine, I’m going to sleep,” Hephaestus said, getting into bed, tucking you in with your blankets and bringing his blanket up, “Happy?” You cooed, snuggled close to him. He chuckled, kissing you on the top of your small head.

 “We’ll be okay, I think. Baby steps…” he whispered, holding back tears, “I won’t let nothing bad happen to you…” You kept quiet, hearing your brave brother silently cry. Despite your rapid growth and ability to understand your surroundings, you wondered what made him cry, even after all those years.

 ----00000-----

 ‘Hepha…’

 You snuggled more, enjoying the warmth provided by the other body next to you. Your mind didn’t pay attention to the arms wrapped around your sleeping form or the hand scratching your head. Limp and relaxed, you were sleepily enjoying it until it sunk in you weren’t in your hut.

 Opening your eyes, you were met with purple and splashes of white, a glimpse of glowing blue swirls peeking through the neck of the person you were snuggling to: Tyreen. You glanced up, the Siren Calypso fast asleep, her arms wrapped around you. Trying to look back, you saw Troy’s hair, feeling his forehead pressed against your back and his hand the one in your hair. You caught a glimpse of Troy’s mechanical arm laying on the couch, tucked in with a blanket. You never recalled him removing his arm before, but it was such an odd display.

 You snorted, failing to contain your laughter. It even had a small sleeping hat on. Everything you’ve seen thus far in the CoV didn’t match up to this.

 “Pft, HAHAHAHAAH!” you lost the will, waking up the twins.

 “W-What’s going on?!” Tyreen shot up, still holding you, her hair all over the place.

 “Who do I have to maim?!” Troy shouted, slowly snapping his jaws open, his own hair covering part of his face.

 You kept laughing, covering your mouth. They both stared at you, the source of the noise.

 “I’m sorry… I just.. I just saw that… pft…” you gestured at Troy’s detached arm, the twins following your line of sight.

 “Wow, rude, you woke my arm up,” Troy teased. You laughed harder, grabbing a pillow and stuffing your face on it. They couldn’t tell if you were still laughing or crying.

 “Really, Troy?” Tyreen said, “Ugh, and you even brought out the little hat.”

 “I did say it was a sleepover,” Troy countered, “The arm RSVP’ed.” This got you going, laughing more, tears were coming out.

 “J-Just stop… I’m still hurting on the side,” you wheezed, the twins grinning. They both pushed you back on the mattress Troy hauled out last night, laughing with you.

 “I’m sure this was ‘jaw-dropping’ to you…?” Tyreen attempted, chuckling as you kept laughing.

 “I mean, you have to ‘hand’ it to me, I thought of this sleepover,” Troy added, poking your cheek.

 “Oh, I can’t feel my cheeks…” you said, face flushed from the laughter. You hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time.

 Tyreen cuddled with you, enjoying the moment. You didn’t flinch at her touch or pull away. Troy rested his head on your shoulder, content. You didn’t push him away. This had been the closest to physical contact the twins had received from you in a while. Though, they weren’t pushing their luck.

 “We have a few more hours before someone comes in looking for us,” Tyreen said, not wanting this to be over.

 “Yeah, let’s sleep in,” Troy added, grinning.

 “Way ahead of you…” you replied, dozing off. The little monster agreed with them for once.

 -------0000000--------

 You have (1) message in your inbox.

 Open? (Yes/No)

 (Yes)

 [Image sent is a still from the LiveScream, you are in the arena, bowing, the hanging bodies dangle above.]

 ! INCOMING MESSAGE !

 .:Unknown User: Greetings, did you enjoy the display? :3

 .:Unknown User: The God Queen couldn’t kill her. What makes you think you can? :3c

 .:Unknown User: My associate is on edge after what you did. : (

 .:Unknown User: There’s no telling what they’ll do. :D

 YOU CAN NO LONGER SEND MESSAGES TO THIS USER

 .:Unknown User: Aw, can’t handle the truth, Prophet Donovan?

 -----000000-----

 “Where are the Twin Gods? It’s close to noon,” Donovan said, “They are not answering their EchoNet messages…” His broken EchoNet device laid in pieces on the floor. The medic general looked at Donovan then at the device.

 “Probably in a tangled limb mess with the plaything. They left with her after the arena fight,” Pip offered, cackling, “I guess they are on her good graces again.” Donovan was disgusted.

 “What? I’m not wrong, if anything its excellent news that our God Queen is in a good mood,” Pip said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it up, “Ever since she gave her plaything a beating, she’s been in a mopey, dampening mood.”

 “Ugh, how annoying,” Donovan hissed out, “How long before they stop playing with her?”

 “Troy delivered a report last night about what Tyreen’s plaything spilled on about that Master guy, I call that progress,” Pip offered, “What the God Queen does with her plaything is her thing, albeit under threat right now. Don’t worry about it… unless…”

 “Unless what? Spit it out,” Donovan demanded.

 “Or is your mood sour because Troy is still pissed off for what you did to Helen?” Pip said, taking a drag from his cigarette, “Falling from favor?”

 “Shut your fucking mouth…” Donovan growled, “As if Father Troy will ever let some bedwarmer get in the way of his agenda for the CoV. He, of all people, should know what sacrifices were made for us to reach this point.”

 “There’s only so much someone can handle before they snap,” Pip replied, “Father Troy is pretty good at keeping that bottled up. Who knows what will be the thing to make him…. lose control.” The medic general was confident it would be soon after what had happened to you. The current relationship between the twins was frayed, but slowly recovering. As for the right-hand man and Troy… that was another drama in its own.

 “Those fucking fumes from the morgue have messed with your head,” Donovan said, leaving the Surveillance Room. Pip laughed, leaning back on his chair, playing with a vial recovered from one of the jesters.

 “Oh, Donovan, can’t wait to dissect your body when you end up in the block,” Pip joked, grinning.

 --------0000000---------

 Tyreen and Troy were sound asleep while you laid awake between them. You had tried to go back to sleep, but dreams of old memories regarding your brother resurfaced. The twin’s breathing was evened out, providing a calming effect on you. Whenever you had a nightmare or your brother would come back from his jobs after being away for a long time, you’d have a sleepover with him, chatting and talking about the new tech or robotics he had worked on. Now, you had ‘one’ with the Calypsos albeit you were asleep when it was decided.

 Before, the times you’d sleep with Tyreen, her old behavior irritated you when she’d force you to spend the night with her. After the beating and you recovering, she drastically changed, shying away or not getting physical with you. At least she kept her hands to herself, no more hair pulling or slaps. You wondered if this was temporary.

 On Troy, he’d pester you around before you had knowledge of Helen and her connection with him. Ironically, even though he was nicer than Tyreen, your mood was sourer with him after Helen’s death. It got worse after the arguments in the infirmary, pushing the Calypso to dial back with his physical interactions, perhaps worried he’d upset you more.

 A lot of things changed throughout the year and half of being captured by the Calypsos, including yourself. You admitted that despite trying to push people away from you, more were pulled towards you. It never crossed your mind that you’d have a ‘friend,’ Perseus providing support you had craved back out in the wastes. If anything, you were more afraid of getting scolded by him than the twins, his own words carrying more weight. Then there was Jackal, the priest you met on your first day, now becoming another friend of yours under sad circumstances. Around others, you were distant at first, now more ‘friendlier’ with the warehouse mechanics and some cultists.

 The Children of the Vault had changed you and part of you hated that, the other part growing more accepting of it. With the current Let’s Flay, you had participated so the cult could live another day and not get attacked by Cetus and Trinity.

 “I have shitty luck…” you whispered, fighting back tears. You longed for the day to be free.

 You let go, crying. The little monster cried as well, feeling your pain.

 Your soft sobs woke up the twins, who looked at you with concern.

 “What’s wrong?” Troy asked, wiping your tears. Everything was wrong.

 “You okay?” Tyreen asked, holding your hand. You were never okay.

 /We’ll be okay, I think. Baby steps. I won’t let nothing bad happen to you./ Hephaestus cried that night, holding you as if his life and yours depended on it. Someone that always had a smile on his face, cracking jokes, and making sure others were okay was downright miserable and scared.

 You cried harder, sitting up, remembering the feeling of your brother’s protective embrace. When he held you after you fell from climbing on top of a hut to watch the night sky, when he held you as you fought a fever, when he held you as he twirled you around in a hug after coming back from work, when he held you to tease you and ruffle your hair….

 When he held you as he ran through the chaotic wasteland trying to escape the Crimson Lance.

 You held him as he drew his last breath, uttering his last words:

 “I love you.”

 You covered your face, shaking, wailing. Troy pulled you into his lap, Tyreen scooting to his side, hugging him and you.

 “Its okay…” Tyreen whispered, alarmed at your sudden mood change. She wiped your tears, frowning. Troy rested his chin on your head, humming. You managed to calm down, hiccupping and sniffing.

 “Who needs an alarm clock when the mechanic wails?” Troy said, jokingly. Tyreen glared at him, but relaxed when she heard your small laugh.

 “Don’t encourage him, he’ll make a puppet show with his mechanical arm,” Tyreen teased, smiling when you laughed more. Sniffing, you gazed down. The twins were holding your hand, Tyreen gently caressing your knuckles while Troy drew circles on your skin with his thumb.

 “Nightmare?” Troy whispered.

 You nodded, not wanting to talk about your brother, hoping they would be satisfied with the answer. He hummed, moving his hand to rub your back. Tyreen furrowed her eyebrows.

 “Not about you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” you said.

 “Oh…” she mumbled, feeling guilty, “I..”

 A ping sounded off, directing attention to the couch. Tyreen got up, removing the blankets to pick up an EchoNet device, reading the message.

 “Ugh, Donovan is messaging us, we should get going, Troy,” Tyreen sighed, tossing the device back on the couch. You removed yourself from Troy’s lap, helping him up from the mattress. He didn’t miss the look of irritation on your face when Donovan’s name was mentioned.

 “Right, right, we didn’t have the meeting last night,” Troy said, grabbing his mechanical arm, sitting on the couch, “A little help?” Tyreen adjusted the lock mechanism on Troy’s shoulder, adjusting the arm in and setting it in place. He moved his arm and hand, satisfied.

 “Thanks, now to get back to work, ugh,” Troy got up, stretching, “You can run along, we’ll be picking up our conversation from last night later today, alright?” You nodded, wiping your face from dried tears. So far, so good with the progress of your plan.

 “I’ll take her to freshen up before leaving,” Tyreen said, extending her hand out to you, “I’ll catch up.”

 Troy gave her a questioning look, but nodded, “Alright, I’ll see you in the Surveillance Room.” He ruffled your hair, giving you a quick peck on the cheek, grinning. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you grabbed Tyreen’s hand. Troy took off, heading to his room.

 Tyreen led you back to your old bedroom, opening the door for you. Dashing to the bathroom, you busied yourself, washing your face. Your mirror self stared back, puffy eyes and all. At least this time you weren’t covered in bruises or cuts. Splashing more water, you dried off, startled when you saw Tyreen by the bathroom door.

 “I-I didn’t mean to scare you…” she said, raising her hands up.

 “I wasn’t expecting you there, is all,” you replied, setting the towel down.

 Tyreen stepped inside the bathroom, approaching you cautiously. You eyed her with suspicion, gripping at the bathroom counter. She stopped in front of you, pushing you against the counter. You braced yourself, thinking she was going harm you. To your surprise, she held you in a hug.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry for what I did to you…” Her hand found its way on your side that had the stitches. Tyreen closed her eyes, resting her head on your shoulder, not letting go. Your hand found its way to her head, petting it.

 You didn’t move or respond, only continuing your gesture.

 /‘Please forgive me.’/

 After weeks leaving this same bedroom, the purple hyacinths were still alive back at your hut, glowing and healthy.

 Unlike your relationship with Tyreen.

 She was trying, you gave her credit, but you were in no rush to forgive her. Tyreen placed her hand on your chest, hearing your heartbeat, then tracing the scar on your neck.

 The same one her and Troy healed up. The same one that taunted the Calypsos after you tried to kill yourself. To get away from the God Queen.

 You’d wear baggy shirts that covered your CoV mark, but with the scar, it was completely gone, everyone seeing it when you switched to tank tops. The Calypsos hadn’t bothered giving you another mark, leaving it as is. You, by your part, showed it off, reminding the twins of the event that transpired in the infirmary.

 “You’re going to be late,” you said, pulling your hand away from her hair, “Troy will start to worry that you are taking long with me.” Tyreen nuzzled your neck, sighing. You hadn’t pushed her away. She missed the intimate physical contact with you, constantly yearning. Getting bold, she licked your neck, feeling you shudder, hearing your breathing pause. You gripped her arm, squeezing it.

 “I’m still healing,” you stated, pushing her other arm away, “You have to go.” Tyreen pulled away, frowning.

 “Y-Yeah…” she said in defeat, but happy you were talking more to her, “I’ll see you later?” Tyreen looked at you, hoping. You nodded, remembering the meeting later on. She smiled, heading out of the bathroom.

 “I’ll call a priest to escort you out,” Tyreen said, leaving the room. You remained in place, wondering what happened. Touching your neck, your mind fed you images of Tyreen’s hands all over your body, minus the hair pulling and slaps. You snorted, your own mind an enemy of yours. The little monster pushed those thoughts away, angry.

 -----00000000-------

 “The God Queen’s plaything revealed the name of the organization that this Master guy controls,” Troy said, bringing up the photos on the displays, “We can infer from the arena fight that she was responsible for the acts in the image of the bodies hanging, in a triangular formation after the fight with the Terror of the Waste bandit, Cepheus.”

 “Trinity is the name of this organization, she mentioned corporate executives, politicians, and celebrities partake in these fights, placing bets,” Tyreen added, “The name ‘Jawbreaker’ was her nickname in there.”

 “Huh, but that Jester creature called her ‘Queen’ back when she fought it out in the wastes,” Donovan said, gesturing at the remains of the jesters in front of Pip.

 “We didn’t get far in discussing more with her, but she will be summoned later on,” Troy informed, “She’s aware of the situation with Master and that he is watching our movements.”

 “Can we really trust her?” Basil asked, crossing his arms, “Why take this long to tell us anything?” He and his crew spent the night taking the bodies down at the arena.

 “You can’t blame her for not saying anything, she was captured by us,” Moksha pointed out, shrugging, “Plus she does get defensive, had to bail several warehouse inspectors from getting beaten up by her.” Troy chuckled, recalling some of the incidents.

 “I trust her,” Tyreen said, receiving odd looks from Basil and Donovan. Troy smirked.

 “I do as well,” Pip said, picking up several broken body mods from the tray, “We must. If we don’t, we are going blind against this guy.”

 “Well, I don’t,” Donovan declared. The Calypsos expected that, but refrained from showing any anger.

 “Same, what if she was sending a message to that Master jerk during that spectacle at the Let’s Flay? The triangular mark, the old Terror of the Waste bandit and her flashed each other those marks,” Basil said, bringing up a still image from your fight with Cepheus, displaying your mark and Cepheus own.

 “In the infirmary, she reasoned her participation was to ‘save our skins,’” Troy countered, “That’s when she stated she knew Master was watching us.”

 “It doesn’t take a lot to deduce she figured out the outpost attacks correlated with her… unfortunate state not too long ago,” Pip said, glancing at Tyreen who growled.

 “What about the PK guy?” Moksha asked, “Did she mention anything about it?”

 Troy shook his head, “She didn’t bring that guy up, only Master. We’ll ask her about it. For now, keep tabs on our outposts and beef up our armory, we might have to conduct another raid soon enough.”

 “Yes, sir!”

 Donovan narrowed his eyes, agitated. The timing was too coincidental in his opinion, the taunting message from Master and your brazen display at the Let’s Flay.

 He had to keep an eye on you, believing the Calypsos’ lust for you blinded them to the danger you posed.

 ------0000000------

 Whistling at the collection of guns Jackal was handling, you approached Perseus, taking a peek at your friend’s work. The priest was placing the guns away in smaller boxes and stashing them away under the floorboards of his study. The cathedral had become a haven for you and Perseus, turning it into a makeshift workshop for smaller projects.

 “What you got going on?” you asked, “Messing with the digistructors?” You pulled a stool up, sitting next to Perseus.

 “Maybe,” Perseus teased, lifting his glasses up, “I found a power core in today’s scrap shipment, so now the digistructors will be up and running smoothly.”

 “At least he’s not working on more guns,” Jackal quipped, “I’ll be running out of floorspace soon enough.” Perseus rolled his eyes, resuming his work.

 You laughed, smacking Perseus on the back, “You’re the MVP in here Perseus, tackling these projects. You went all out with the small info I gave you on the blueprints.”

 “Why, thank you, my good lady,” Perseus grinned, “Pray tell, how did it go last night with the Twin Gods? You didn’t show up at the bar.”

 “Left us hanging,” Jackal said, putting a sad face but chuckling.

 “Oh my goodness!” you rubbed your face, having forgotten, “I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you two later!”

 Perseus and Jackal busted out laughing.

 “It’s all good, did you talk to them about Cetus…?” Perseus inquired, pausing his work. Jackal looked at you, curious as well.

 “I did… We didn’t get far, it was a bit emotional on my part,” you confessed, leaning on the workbench, “Obviously I didn’t reveal ‘intimate’ knowledge… at least not yet, you know?” You bit your nail, nervous.

 “I’m surprised they didn’t push you for more information, they tend to be more ‘forceful’ when it comes to the enemy,” Jackal said, sitting by his desk.

 “Huh, after what the God Queen did to her… I doubt they want to go that route,” Perseus said, “Plus, there’s that threat of Cetus attacking again if you are hurt, right?” You nodded, somewhat grateful the Calypsos were afraid of Cetus.

 “A blessing in disguise,” you said, sighing, “Well, then, I’ll discuss with you two what I hope pans out later on with the Calypsos….”

 -------00000000----------

 Summoned to Tyreen’s throne room, you were only expecting the Calypsos there, but all generals were present alongside the twins. In front of Pip were trays with body parts that you recognized from the Jesters, your blood running cold. You had to keep the little monster at bay, the urges to fight were an all-time high with Donovan in the room. Jackal followed along with you, bowing once he approached the main threshold.

 “My Twin Gods, I have brought the God Queen’s plaything,” Jackal said, keeping his gaze down, but you noticed his snarl. You weren’t the only one peeved at Donovan’s presence.

 “Thank you, Jackal. You are dismissed,” Troy said, beckoning you to step forward. Jackal bowed again, departing from the throne room. He sneered at Donovan who returned it, seen by everyone else.

 “I don’t see why you keep him around,” Donovan said once Jackal left. Troy narrowed his eyes, keeping his expression neutral, “What we do with the priests does not concern you, Donovan.”

 “Alright, settle down,” Pip interjected, “We’re here to get answers.”

 Tyreen walked over to you, grabbing your hand, directing you to the console in the center. You had been glaring at Donovan during the exchange. Troy huffed at his right-hand man, making his way to you as well.

 “I guess this is my show and tell?” you inquired, eyeing everyone. Moksha waved at you, chuckling. Basil seemed peeved, but gave you a nod. Pip was playing around with a familiar vial, grinning at you. Donovan was looking away.

 “If you see it that way, yes,” Troy said, bringing up displays of the images Master sent over via the EchoNet forums, “We got these before the Let’s Flay.”

 “Your hunch about the outpost attacks is true… He has been watching for a while,” Tyreen added, stressed, “He sent messages over to us in regards to your nickname ‘Jawbreaker.’”

 You were confused. Messages?

 “What do you mean by messages?” you asked, Tyreen displaying her and Troy’s EchoNet messages. Fear was creeping up on you. Was Cetus directly talking to the Calypsos? How much information had he divulge to them in regards to you? This would pose a problem to your plan, big time. The little monster screeched in your mind.

 For all to see, the messages from the Unknown User glared down at you:

 ! TIME XX:XX !    ! DATE: XX.XX.XX !

 .:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

 .:Unknown User: You’re in for a treat. I hope you like jawbreakers.

 .:Unknown User: :3c

 .:Unknown User: (candy emoji) (skull emoji)

 ~&~&~

 ! TIME XX:XX !    ! DATE: XX.XX.XX !

 .:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

 .:Unknown User: The arena no longer belongs to you.

 .:Unknown User: It belongs to her now.

 .:Unknown User: Her glorious stage, now fit for the Queen. (crown emoji)

 Your eyes fell on the last line and a single word: Queen. The title that everyone in the organization called you by after years of being undefeated in the ring, bowing to you when you entered a room or great hall, expressing admiration and giving you tokens of worship, and the same title he used….

 /A King always needs his Queen./

 And the same one you used to name the little monster: Mad Queen. The one who would take over and pass judgment on everyone, feral and unhinged, the other you who felt no pain, only lust for blood. The one who was waiting to tear into Donovan.

 “He still calls me that…” you whispered, lost, forgetting others were around. The little monster was beating your mind up, reminding you about what Cetus did.

 “Calls you what?” Troy said. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking around. Taking a deep breath, you calmed down. Everyone here was going to find out one way or another.

 “….’Queen.’ Master also called me that…” you informed, clenching your fist. Tyreen stared at you.

 “Wow, so we got two Queens in here? Oh boy,” Pip said, getting a glare from Troy, “So, what is it? Jawbreaker or Queen?”

 “Like I said, Jawbreaker was my rookie name. After being unbeatable in fights organized by Trinity… I was given that title with Jawbreaker getting benched,” you informed, keeping your gaze low. Emotions locked away were slowly breaking through. Troy placed a hand on your shoulder, lightly squeezing it in assurance. It did little for your nerves.

 “Are these the only messages?” you asked. Tyreen was still holding your hand, interlocking her fingers with yours. She hadn’t let go after the information about the title. Part of you hoped she wasn’t going to get jealous, it was enough dealing with her current dislike of Perseus.

 “There were several with cryptic messages, images and videos sent to me and Tyreen. Pip received one when Jackal found you,” Troy informed, bringing the message up.

 ! TIME XX:XX !    ! DATE: XX.XX.XX !

 .:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

 .:???: You better save her life lest you want the whole place to burn down.

 .:???: [USER SENDS IMAGE]

 [Image is a still image from surveillance feed showing the medics bringing you out of your hut.]

 “Got the message, obviously I saved your life,” Pip gestured at the body parts on the trays, “Somewhat didn’t matter, outposts were attacked, completely destroyed. All we received were distress signals, by the time our forces arrived, everyone was dead.”

 You were confused by this new information. Cetus did not operate in that manner, as violent as he was, he wouldn’t resort to retribution after making a threat like that since Pip did manage to get you stabilized. Originally, you had thought he ordered the attacks as a way to show he was coming over to retrieve you or angry at you being hurt.

 “After the assaults, we got this message, however, someone other than this Master guy send it…” Troy said, swiping in the new message, “They sent it to all of us. They were the ones behind the attack.”

 ! TIME XX:XX !    ! DATE: XX.XX.XX !

 .:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

 .:P.K.: That was only the beginning.

 An emblem of a Knight was displayed, in colors of blue and red. You stared at the message and at the emblem.

 “PK? I don’t know anyone with those initials…” you were baffled. It was close to three years since you had escaped and so much had changed? Cetus was always in control, never letting others do their own thing, disciplining anyone who dared to profit or make a mess out of Trinity.

 “No? They sound like they are attached to you,” Moksha said, “Some sort of admirer or something in that organization?”

 “I, uh, no, I mean, its not like they were allowed to do anything… Master is a control freak,” you replied, “I’m surprised someone else ordered attacks…”

 “You are out of the loop about that guy then,” Troy sighed, “Well, what about the Jesters? You mentioned they were experiments?”

 You nodded, grabbing a piece of broken body mod, “Y-Yeah… As I told you and Tyreen, Trinity experimented on people, majority of them bandits… brainwashed them.. implanted several body mods… Jesters are at the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to the fights.”

 “Fresh meat, so to speak huh?” Pip picked up a vial, trace amounts of purple liquid were visible, “Warm-ups for fights you said, plus, what is this thing? Is this what gives them that body mass increase, plus monstrous strength?”

 “Yes…” you eyed the vial, remembering the large amount in stock back at the Atlas stronghold, “It’s a serum that boosts strength, stamina at the expense of mental control and stability. Other fighters would use it as well, almost like a steroid. Made the fights last longer for the VIP guests…” This caught everyone’s attention.

 “Did you ever use it?” Tyreen asked, curious. Everyone was aware of your own strength in the arena.

 “No. Master wouldn’t allow it,” you replied, squeezing her hand, “He didn’t want his… ‘doll’ tarnished…” You quickly looked down, having confessed another nickname he’d give you. You were Cetus’ little pearl doll while being Tyreen’s little bandit doll. What shitty luck.

 “Doll… huh… How ironic,” Pip said, laughing. Tyreen glared at him, hissing. He raised his hands in defense, still snickering.

 “Enough, Pip,” Troy growled, irked. He brought up another image, “The Master jerk sent this image of a Vault.” You glanced up, shocked about the content of the image. It displayed the Vault gate with the purple sludge and people bathing in it in the distance.

 The Vault of Power.

 Why would Cetus show them one the Vaults that Trinity discovered? You were aware he was watching, but what message was he sending to the-

 The message was directed to you.

 The message was directed to you.

 The. Message.

 Was. Directed.

 To. You.

You began to breath heavily, wheezing, your chest burning up. The world spun, the colors of the display turning bright for you. Pip pushed the twins aside, sitting you down on a nearby chair. This startled them, Moksha and Basil looked on with worry while Donovan narrowed his eyes, stepping back.

 “H-Hey, focus on me, keep focus,” Pip ordered, “Take deep breathes, follow through with me.”

 “What is happening to her?!” Tyreen asked, stopped by Troy from approaching.

 “She’s having a panic attack,” Troy said, ushering the others to step away, “Let’s take a break.” Tyreen kept firm, but was dragged aside by Troy.

 You were trying to follow Pip, having a difficult time. The breathing exercises were helping a little, but the glaring image of the Vault was too much.

 “I-I need to step out, please, I need fresh air…” you pleaded, shaking. Pip helped you up, waving at the twins that he was leaving. Troy nodded, Tyreen getting agitated. The medic general led you out of the throne room.

 “Give her space, Ty,” Troy said, crossing his arms. Tyreen huffed in defeat, knowing the truth behind Troy’s words.

 “I know…” she said, glancing at the Vault image. Your reaction was confirmation that you were aware of the Vault’s existence.

 -------00000000-------

 Pip observed you, letting you wander in an open area by the main complex. You were biting your nails, muttering to yourself, visibly shaking. After your slip up at the medical room, his concerns about your change in behavior alarmed him, having seen something similar with some Dahl soldiers. He knew it was a coping mechanism, an unhealthy one. The soldiers developed it as a way to detach themselves from the horrors they’d see plus the ones they’d commit.

 A numb sensation to quell the sense of guilt and pain.

 “You have shitty luck…” Pip muttered, taking out a cigarette and lighting it up.

 You wandered around, your breathing going back to normal little by little, your brain on overdrive. It raced with various thoughts on how this put your plan in a pinch. You wanted the Calypsos out of their hub to deal with Donovan alone by using information about the Rat King. However, Cetus was slowly ripping your plan apart by throwing the curveball of the Vault. You weren’t privy to the CoV’s agenda and goals, but you and everyone out there knew that Vaults meant wealth of powers.

 The twins focus will switch to that, not some bandit lord. They’d probably demand to know the location and go there, maybe even take you with them. Growling, you pulled at your hair, irritated. Pip paid no attention, busy smoking, checking his EchoNet device.

 “That fucker…” you hissed out, “Thinking he can read me and-“ You stopped in your tracks, staring at Pip on his device. The Calypsos and Pip had said they received messages from Master and the mysterious PK. The other generals made no mention of receiving any themselves. You didn’t doubt their loyalty to the Calypsos, but was there a chance one of them received one and not tell? It was stretch.

 /I saw the footage, you went to look for Tyreen after meeting with Helen./ Jackal accused you of seeking out Tyreen despite insisting you hadn’t. The priest and you left the matter alone when he came to terms with who was responsible for his daughter’s death.

 “No fucking way…” you whispered, glancing at a nearby surveillance camera. Trinity had the resources and you had seen Winona doctored video material for several politicians, manipulating news and events in other planets to benefit the organization. Helen didn’t fit the type to get in Cetus’ crosshairs and her ambush attacks didn’t warrant the need to get involved, resorting to such drastic measures to convince her and Jackal about a meeting that never happened with Tyreen. To spite the God Queen? No, that, too, wasn’t Cetus’ way of doing things. Judging from the messages you were shown, he DIRECTLY taunted them.

 Checking on Pip, you were clear, standing so your back was facing him but you were in view of the camera. It was another gamble you were on, hoping it would work. If Cetus hadn’t changed much his M.O. and if this worked, you’d have to adjust your plan. Drastically.

 Discreetly, you tapped on your arm with a fingertip, pausing several times and resuming. You repeated the action again, eyeing the camera but not moving your head. The wait was eternal as you repeated the tapping.

 “What the fuck?” Pip said, looking at his EchoNet device. You turned around, feigning concern.

 “Is something wrong?” you said, approaching him.

 He was reading the content of the message, looking up at you. Turning the device around, he showed you the contents:

 :CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

 .:Unknown User: : )  Q 2

 .:Unknown User: [USER SENDS IMAGE]

 [Image sent is a still of the main square of the CoV hub, giving a view of the cathedral, the Calypsos statues, the main central complex where you were currently in, the warehouses and some housing complexes.]

 “W-What?” you said, observing the image. You immediately zeroed in front of the cathedral.

 Helen was leaving the cathedral followed by Jackal, her daggers visible.

 The bar fight.

 “Why the fuck would he send this me?” Pip asked, taking the device again, another ping coming through, “He sent another one!” You hopped over to him, looking at the display.

 .:Unknown User: :3  Q 1

 .:Unknown User: [USER SENDS IMAGE]

 [Second image is a still, same angle but it shows the night fall]

 You noticed the change, Donovan was coming out of the cathedral. But there was another damning evidence, in the area by the bar, you could see the group of armed cultists and Troy. There were timestamps on the stills with the dates.

 “We have to go back inside, I need to inform the Twin Gods,” Pip said, opening the door for you, “Let’s go.” You stood there, lost in thought.

 Cetus was indeed watching, managed to read your message through the tapping, and sent over answers for your questions.

 ‘Who else received direct messages from you?’

 Donovan.

 ‘About what?’

 Helen.

 “Hey! We have to go back insi-“ Pip stared at you.

 You were smiling, your expression darkened. This made your plan better, but you were going to need extra help aside from Perseus and Jackal.

 And you knew who to ask.

 “Prophet Pip, care to hear something nice about those Jesters?” you asked, still smiling, “As thanks for saving my life.”

 Pip glanced at his EchoNet device and then at you, smirking. Things were getting more interesting around here and as a person of science, he was itching to know more about these Jesters.

 “Sure,” he replied, laughing, “Queen.”

 Another ping came through in Pip’s EchoNet device.

 .:Unknown User: :3c Payback is a bitch, Donovan.

 ----00000000-------

 “He is not walking a skag, what is taking them so damn long?” Basil said, growing impatient. Moksha sighed, rolling her eyes, “Why don’t you go FETCH them or something instead of complaining?”

 “No fighting,” Troy demanded, not looking up from his EchoNet device, “Pip has been messaging me, she’s still recovering.”

 “She freaked out when she saw the Vault image, any ideas?” Donovan asked.

 “No, but I’m sure she will divulge that information when she comes back. We are still on our plan to open the Vaults,” Troy said.

 “That sludge material reminds me of slag, the byproducts of eridium that Hyperion had in Pandora,” Tyreen bit her finger, “It had strength enhancing abilities, but I thought only Pandora has those.”

 “There’s that Vault in Elpis,” Moksha observed, “We do know Trinity has presence elsewhere from those outpost attacks.”

 “The Crimson Alliance would have taken over, I think,” Basil said, displaying a map of Crimson Raider camps in Pandora, the numbers extremely lower than the CoV camps, “None of our crew reported other opened Vaults.”

 The doors hissed opened, revealing Pip and you. The twins immediately went towards you, Pip stepping aside.

 “Don’t make it that obvious you two,” Pip teased, “Give her space.”

 Troy huffed, turning his attention to you, “Feeling better?” You nodded, keeping your gaze down. Tyreen tilted your head up by your chin, frowning, “Want to stop?” Your eyes were puffy from crying.

 “N-No. I’ll be okay now, I think I got it out of my system,” you replied, rubbing your arm, “I just wasn’t expecting seeing that Vault…”

 “That Vault? There are others?” Tyreen asked. It was expected they’d be more attentive to information about the Vault.

 “Yes, there are others, but this one produces the base compound for the serum that you found in the Jesters,” you pointed at the vials and the body mods, “After the serum is produced, they are placed in vials and inserted into certain body mods.”

 “What about those people bathing in them?” Troy gestured at the background section of the image.

 “Those… They are the people that become Jesters, they are bathed in that substance to get them ready for the body mod surgeries…” you replied, recalling the same surgeries you took part of.

 “…Is there any way to know if this Vault is still under their control?” Tyreen glanced at Troy, her Siren tattoos were glowing bright. Troy poked at his lone red vial, the substance inside glowing dim.

 “Maybe… It’s been three years since I left – escaped – Trinity…” you confessed, sighing. You need to direct their attention to the Rat King. Your next move will be crucial depending on the twin’s responses.

 “Is it in Promethea?” Troy brought up the hologram of the planet.

 Your anticipation skyrocketed, “….Yes.” There was time to switch it around.

 “Show us where its located,” Tyreen said, inching close to you, “We’ll send a scout group to survey the area.” So close, so close.

 “Why do you need the Vault for? Its inactive,” you replied. Little crumbs of knowledge, take them.

 “We have our ways,” Troy said, smirking, petting your head, “To open Vaults. Master jerk owes us for the outpost attacks, gotta get even you know?” Tyreen chuckled. The twin’s devious personality was showing up, hungry for the power of a Vault.

 “That thing is a Jester factory, are you sure the cultists will survive a minute?” you countered, a little irritated. You knew you were pushing their buttons. It was necessary for your plan.

 Donovan was quietly observing the exchange, amused. He could tell Troy and Tyreen were getting angry at you. When it came to Vaults, nothing mattered to them, not even playthings.

 Not even you.

 The twins stood in front of you, their icy blue eyes faintly glowing and glaring down at you. Unfazed, you stared back, a tiny smirk on your lips.

 “You will tell us the location. Now,” Troy said, looming over you.

 “You are giving your army a death sentence if you send them over there now,” you stated, “You seem to have forgotten about those outpost attacks… Plus the Rat King’s Atlas stronghold that had that jester,” Troy narrowed his eyes, snarling, grabbing your arm. He applied a bit of pressure on it.

 Tyreen reached out to grab your other arm, her Siren tattoos glowing bright, flaring. Your body wanted to shut down, pull away but you kept calm, not wanting to waver under pressure. You could feel her Siren hand warm against your skin.

 “Doll…” Tyreen started, her own mind keeping her anger at bay, not wanting another repeat of the medical room incident, “Tell us the location.”

 “For what? If you want the serum, its not worth getting it with Trinity around that area,” you spat out, your hands twitching. The little monster wanted to feel the Calypsos’ soft, squishy flesh.

 The twins were about to say something before interrupted by hands on their own arms. Pip tugged at them, forcing their grip away from your arms.

 “Pip…” Troy growled out.

 “May I need to remind the Twin Gods of the threat of Trinity if harm befalls the God Queen’s plaything…” Pip was angry, his voice low, not carrying the tiny hint of mischief, “I suggest the Twin Gods reconsider their methods of obtaining information.” You rubbed your arms, glaring at the Calypsos. The little monster was seething, cursing at Troy and Tyreen, calling them hypocrites for hurting you. You paid no attention to the little monster’s antics, but mildly surprised the twins were going to resort to hurting you for information.

 So much for the ‘love’ they had for you.

 “Tch, then what do you propose?” Troy asked, stepping away from you. Tyreen moved aside, crossing her arms, not looking at you, visibly frustrated. Donovan smirked, hoping the twins kept this up.

 Pip checked your arms, noticing the light bruises left behind, shaking his head, “Is there an alternative for reaching this Vault without our war meat getting shredded apart?”

 “Unless you have some sort of Goliath factory amped up on steroids, maybe,” you said, eye twitching a bit. Tyreen’s bruise felt like fire.

 “We do have the army numbers, any chance those leftover body parts have serum in it? Maybe we can use that for our troops…?” Basil offered, wanting to ease the tension in the throne room.

 Bingo.

 Pip was busy applying ointment and bandaging the bruise Tyreen left on you, “I only have one vial available that wasn’t damaged or contaminated, if we are doing testing for it, we have one shot.” He glanced up at you.

 “…I know how it works and create a body mod for it,” you said, patting the bandage, flinching, “If anything, we can create small capsules and give those to few… test subjects… The effects will be minimized though.”

 “You do know how it works?” Troy said, turning around to look at you.

 “I did reconstruct your spine connector and the plates in your body,” you hissed out, offended he forgot about that detail. He growled, still upset at you.

 “Are we sure in allowing the plaything to handle this?” Donovan questioned, not liking where this way heading to.

 “That will be on Pip to decide that,” Tyreen said, somewhat relaxing her posture. She eyed your bandaged arm.

 “Of course, I will supervise and work on the materials, the plaything can leave me notes to work on,” Pip added, throwing a dirty look at Tyreen. She looked away.

 “Well, tell me what you need and I’ll go get the materials,” Moksha said, approaching you, “I know what you are capable of for guns and mechanic work.” Troy hissed at her, the general smiling back.

 “Unfortunately, there is no way to replicate the serum,” you informed, grabbing the tablet that Moksha offered, making a list of items you needed and notes for Pip, “But I do know where there might be more in stock…” You gave the tablet back to Moksha.

 “Where?” Troy crossed his arms, “Or will you keep that information to yourself as well?”

 You growled, “The Atlas stronghold that was raided, if a Jester was there, there is bound to be supplies of the serum around.”

 “There were bodies in crates with the serum, are those defective?” Pip took out several vials out, the substance darker.

 “They are, its best to get them from their pure form and not from corpses, those are failed experiments,” you replied, “However, since it was only one, the supplies will be in low numbers. But there is another source as well,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “The Rat King is bound to have a higher quantity in his possession…”

 Please take the bait. Please take the bait.

 “The Rat King again, huh?” Troy went to the console, pinpointing the Atlas stronghold, “The one who works directly for that Master jerk and Trinity…”

 “Yes, he himself uses serum, I-I’ve seen the stockpiles…” you said, your throat tightening, “He hoards them at his main base.” You approached the console, eyeing it and pointing at a location past the Atlas stronghold and the wastes, “That’s where he’s located, past the marshlands…” Troy glanced at you.

 You were shaking again and biting hard on your bottom lip.

 “Are you sure about this?” Tyreen noticed your state as well.

 “I’m certain. I doubt he’s heavily fortified as the Vault, he only had his bandit crew and that’s it,” you stepped away from the console, “When are you trying the serum out?”

 “Moksha will get the materials, Donovan and Troy will look for viable candidates immediately,” Tyreen said, dismissing Moksha from the meeting, “If we like the results, we’ll pay a visit to the Atlas stronghold and check out the supplies left behind.”

 Troy stood next to Tyreen, smirking, “If not, we’ll pay the Rat King a visit, get his stash.”

 Score.

 You nodded, trying to contain your excitement. The little monster was in bliss, watching everything fall into place.

 “Very well… may I be excused? I’m sure you can handle this now… I need some time… alone…” you asked, a hand on your bandaged arm.

 “We still have more to talk-“ Tyreen was cut off.

 “I will escort you out,” Pip interjected, patting you on the shoulder, “You’ve had quite a day, better rest for a bit! If I need anything, I’ll just send for priest Jackal.” He grinned at the twins, pushing you towards the exit of the throne room.

 “Hey! We are not done talking to her- And they’re gone…Ugh…” Troy rubbed his face.

 Basil sighed, “Well, at least we got some progress with this Master bulllshit.”

 “Donovan, let’s go,” Troy ordered, “We need to find good candidates at the Naughty House.” Donovan bowed, following Troy out of the throne room. Basil deactivated the display screens, bowing at Tyreen, exiting the throne room, leaving her alone.

 Tyreen stared at the doors of her throne room, touching her own arm, whispering, “I hurt her again…” She cursed at herself for her weaknesses. She punched the console.

 -------000000000---------

 You rushed to the cathedral, hoping to find Perseus in Jackal’s study room. Ignoring the hissing priests, you barged in, throwing yourself on the makeshift bed on the floor that Perseus built, screaming into the pillow.

 “What the hell?!” Perseus shouted, turning around from his workbench, “Andromeda?! What happened?!” Jackal stepped out from an adjacent room, shocked.

 “What’s wrong, child?” Jackal knelt down, seeing you grip tight the pillow. You kept screaming, then lifted your head up, face red.

 “Aside from the fact I want to kill Donovan and perhaps the Calypsos…. Cetus almost ruined my plans in the span of the day…” you wheezed out, catching your breath, “But thankfully, everything worked out in the end… somehow, with little help.”

 “Little help…? Who did you drag in?” Perseus asked, nervous. He removed his glasses and his gloves, smacking your shoulder with one of them. He then noticed your bandaged arm.

 “Who did that to you?!” Perseus pointed at it, “Don’t tell me…”

 “You were fine when we saw you earlier, don’t tell me the Calypsos did it?” Jackal growled.

 “….Tyreen did it, when I refused to give information about a Vault,” you laid your head on the pillow, frowning, “Its been a while since I’ve seen them angry at me. I only have a light bruise from Troy.”

 “Father Troy as well?” Perseus sighed, upset.

 “Figures,” Jackal growled, “Wasn’t enough with the way he treated my daughter and now you.”

 “Its okay…” you whispered, exhausted.

 “Its not,” Perseus declared, “The God Queen gave you a beating that almost killed you and you are saying ‘Its okay’ as if its normal?!”

 “Perseus…” you looked up at him, a sad smile adorning your lips, “I’ve had worse… believe me… I’ve reached the point that I’m just numb to it all.” The little monster was responsible for it, shielding you.

 He knelt down next to you and Jackal, frowning, “Why does it have to be that way…?” Perseus reached out to touch your bandaged arm, “And don’t tell me because you are a plaything…”

 You laughed, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I just have shitty luck is all… Do you mind if I take a nap here?”

 “Go ahead,” Jackal said, tucking you in. You thanked him, feeling warm.

 “By the way, the help is Prophet Pip… he’ll be looking for me around these parts,” you said, grinning. Perseus shook his head, “I’m trusting you on this…” He touched your cheek, tracing a light scar on it.

 “Ey, we’ll be okay…” you whispered, smiling, slowly falling asleep. Jackal fixed the pillow, a grim expression on his face. Soon, you were asleep, snuggling into the blankets. Perseus stared at you, his hand moving back to your bandaged arm.

 “….”

 “Hurts, doesn’t it?” Jackal commented, giving him a sympathetic look, “Unable to protect.”

 “It does,” Perseus said, standing up and heading back to this workbench. He cursed at himself for his weaknesses. The Helenite pistol laid on his workbench, waiting for upgrades.

 ----0000000-----

 Pip hummed as he read the notes you left behind. He didn’t turn around when the doors to his main examination room opened. Picking up the treasured vial, he saw Troy on the reflection, standing by.

 “What’s with the creeper vibe, Father Troy?” Pip asked, placing the vial down, taking out a pipette to sort the liquid into smaller capsules. Small, thin metal cylinders were placed in a sterile basket, contraptions that were made to dispense the capsules into the body of the test subjects, courtesy of you.

 “You think this will work?” Troy approached him, looking down at the capsules and the cylinders.

 Pip shrugged, “Its all about trial and error, the plaything mentioned in the notes that we might see the effects at a smaller scale with the serum at lower dosage quantities.” He picked up a complete capsule, handing it to Troy. The tall Calypso eyed the liquid, observing it.

 “To think that’s what juiced up that creature back in the Atlas stronghold…” Troy muttered, placing the capsule back on its tray.

 “If you and Tyreen are satisfied with the results, can you imagine what this will mean to the cult?” Pip said, grinning, “Less body part loss in our army, more bloodshed against our opponents!” Troy chuckled at the medic general’s enthusiasm.

 “You’re just excited to see action back in the infirmary,” Troy said, “Or finally meeting someone who understands what the fuck you are talking about.”

 “Oh, Father Troy, it is refreshing to speak to the living than with the dead,” Pip joked, “But I do admit the plaything is most interesting, especially now with this new toy.” He finished sorting the liquid, a total of 12 capsules distributed.

 “Well, at least you tolerate her, unlike the others,” Troy said, taking out his EchoNet device.

 “You mean Donovan and Basil? Basil, I understand, the arena and all. As for Donovan, pray tell, I thought the right-hand man was the most trusted figure,” Pip said, a tiny smirk on his lips. He wanted to play along with your game.

 “….”

 Pip placed the capsules into a freezer, “Don’t tell me the trust is gone.” He resumed a neutral expression, turning around to look at Troy.

 “What’s the meaning of this?” Troy stared at Pip, his hand shaking while holding the EchoNet device.

 “It is what it is, Father Troy,” Pip said, “Some people forget that things stay alive on the net.” He pushed his glasses up.

 “Have you… Have you checked the authenticity of this?” Troy threw his EchoNet device on the floor, rubbing his face.

 “Basil checked it, he didn’t believe it either. Just now, Moksha confirmed it, I’m assuming she sent you the message,” Pip handed over his own device to Troy, “I got this when I walked out of the meeting with the plaything.” Troy pushed it away.

 “I don’t want to look at it,” Troy hissed out, “I… “ He punched one of the shelves, glass shattering everywhere. Pip sighed, looking at the mess. Troy pulled at his hair, growling.

 “DAMNIT! DAMNIT ALL! Does Tyreen know?!” Troy yelled, “Did you tell her already?!”

 “If you need a volunteer, I’m up for it,” Pip said, “I doubt Basil and Moksha want to be near her if they spill the news.”

 “No, I’ll tell her,” Troy snarled, clenching his fists, “Take the test subjects to the Harvest grounds, summon everyone else.”

 “Understood, Father Troy,” Pip bowed, “Do you mind if I make some minor arrangements for the test?”

 He was eager to see the spectacle prepared.

 “Do what you need to do,” Troy hissed out, storming off.

 Pip pushed up his glasses, snickering, “I did warn him that Father Troy was bound to explode…”

 -----0000000-----

 The generals awaited the Calypsos at the Harvest grounds, eyeing the cages set out with prisoners from the Naughty House. The prisoners clamored for mercy, shouting praises to the generals and the Twin Gods. Pip chuckled, lighting up a cigarette. The warehouse mechanics, including Perseus, were cleaning up the grounds from the leftover equipment, packing up and awaiting orders on the side. Perseus quietly observed the generals, then focused on Donovan, whispering something to the other mechanics who nodded.

 “Am I the only one excited to see how that serum works?” Pip asked, addressing the others.

 “Beats me… as long as they don’t go insane and mutate like that asshole from the Atlas stronghold,” Basil said, sneering at the prisoners.

 “I don’t think we should worry about that,” Moksha tilted her head, pondering, “If the serum is not concentrated, I suppose test subjects won’t lose their minds.”

 “We have the gun power to put them down if need be,” Donovan said, holding up his shotgun, “Not taking any chances, especially if this is dealing with the damn plaything.”

 “Aye, aye, we hear ye, Prophet Donovan,” Pip said, raising his cigarette up, “Oh, the Twin Gods are here.” All generals turned to look at the twins entering the grounds, followed by a small group of priests, Jackal among them.

 “Priests, what for?” Basil was baffled, the others and him approaching the twins.

 “Father Troy, my God Queen, everything has been set up as you have requested,” Moksha informed, bowing, “The outer areas have been cleared as well as the old run-down buildings too. Basil and I have calibrated and adjusted the cameras for the tests.” Perseus approached her, pushing over a console that was connected to several wires feeding into the buildings.

 The twins stared at their generals, nodding in confirmation. Their quiet demeanor was unnerving, their expressions vacant. The priests filed over to Pip, who handed over the metal cylinders, scalpels and gloves.

 “As requested by the God Queen, several of you that have committed grave offenses against us will be given a second chance!” Troy announced, Jackal and the other priests descended down to the area, “You 12 have been chosen! Accept this as a blessing from me, Father Troy!”

 Jackal and the priests approached the caged prisoners, ordering them to turn around to expose the back of their necks. Several pleaded, others objected but all relented. With a careful incision, the metal cylinders were carefully placed under the skin, popping the capsule stored within it.

 “You will feel a slight sting, but it will go away!” Pip yelled, “Don’t poke at it!” The priests made quick work on stitching up the incisions, retreating from the cages and going up to the viewing platforms. They all stood by the warehouse mechanics who were watching.

 Tyreen sat on her throne, crossing her legs, Moksha handing her several controls and showing her the inside view of the buildings.

 “Do you believe in second chances, Donovan?” Troy asked, not breaking eye contact from the prisoners who were frightened, some scratching the back of their necks. Donovan narrowed his eyes, perplexed by the odd question.

 “Second chances?” Donovan inquired, “You mean for these prisoners? I don’t recall you being that merciful.” Troy always punished the prisoners alongside Donovan, laughing at the attempts for those begging for forgiveness, shouted by the unfortunate souls.

 “If you see it that way, yes,” Troy said, “Same goes to you. I didn’t take you as someone willing to give others chances… especially playthings.” The tall Calypso turned to look at Donovan, his jaws clicking. Donovan noticed Troy gripping the hilt of his blade tight.

 “What’s this about? I had nothing to do with the demise of Helen,” Donovan eyed the prisoners. The priests were staring at him.

 “You know damn well what I’m talking about, Prophet Donovan,” Troy swung his blade down, “Thinking you are smarter than me? Smarter than the God Queen?”

 Donovan growled, steadying his shotgun, “What are you on about!?”

 “Consorting with the enemy.”

 The general turned around, meeting Tyreen’s cold glare from her throne. Pip, Moksha, and Basil were staring at him as well, anger evident in their eyes.

 “HEATHEN!” the priests shouted, “HEATHEN!” They all pointed their daggers at Donovan. Jackal remained on his spot, not joining his fellow priests. He only stared, face unreadable.

 “What-“

 Perseus pressed a button from a remote he had on his side. The displays that were in front of Tyreen showed the messages between Donovan and Master, still images of Donovan harassing a priest and talking to a group of cultists. For all to see, the surveillance feed of you leaving the cathedral and heading to the Calypsos’ living quarters playing side by side with the original, unedited feed where you left to your hut, ambushed by the same cultists Donovan had spoken to.

.:Unknown User: How about helping a friend out? You scratch my back and I scratch yours. You really don’t like my Queen being near the Calypsos. :3c I want her back. Seems like a fair trade, right?

.:D.Van.: As if I would.

.:Unknown User: I don’t think Father Troy would like to know you were the one who snitched on his lady friend. :3

.:D.Van.: What do you propose, then?

.:Unknown User: That’s what I want to hear. I’ll help you out. When the perfect opportunity shows up, you find a way to free her from the stronghold. :3

.:D.Van.: Huh, you want me to do your dirty work. Asshole.

.:Unknown User: D: I mean, do you want me to storm the place. :3 I can do that, but I won’t.

.:Unknown User: :v I doubt you want another surprise like the one in the underground freezer. What can I do to show a sign of good faith? :3c

.:D.Van.: Now that’s what I want to hear.

~0~

.:Unknown User: :3 So, how were my editing skills?

.:D.Van: I’m impressed. Now, do your part.

.:Unknown User: :D Sure thing! :3c Can’t wait to see what you have in store for me.

~0~

.:Unknown User: :D Deed is done. Father Troy is scary when angry!

.:D.Van: I’ll take it from here. I’m sure you’ll be watching.

.:Unknown User: :3c Remember our deal.

~0~

.:Unknown User: Well played. I won’t snitch on you. I’m going to see how this plays out. If anything happens to her. Well… you and the Calypsos will find out eventually. (skull emoji)

 Donovan saw red. Troy was seething, furious next to him. Tyreen stood up from her throne, adjusting her jacket, her Siren tattoos flaring and glowing bright, pissed off.

 “You…. Its your fault…. Its your fucking fault he made a mockery out of us….” Troy hissed out. For the push for Helen’s demise. For the push on Tyreen punishing you. For the retaliation of PK attacking their outposts.

 “Donovan, you are hereby stripped from your rank as Prophet… and shall be known as a heathen,” Tyreen said, “Your punishment for conspiring with the enemy is death…” She snapped her fingers, the priests flanking her, hissing at Donovan.  

 Jackal remained on the side.

 “You can’t do this!” Donovan shouted, looking at the other generals. Pip, Basil, and Moksha took out their guns, the other mechanics and Perseus doing the same.

 Donovan faced Troy, hearing his breathing getting heavy.

 “Oh Donovan, it’s a pity. For once, I will be merciful…. I’ll give you a second chance…” Troy said, inching close to the disgraced general, “I’ll give you thirty seconds as a head start…” He popped his jaws open, roaring.

 Tyreen snapped her fingers again, pointing at Donovan. The priests rushed forward, daggers out towards Donovan. He shot them with his shotgun, blasting several of them out of the way.

 “Who’s to say I wasn’t the only one?!” Donovan shouted, glaring at the other generals who went over to protect Tyreen.

 “Do not string us with you, heathen!” Basil hissed, “After everything we’ve been through?!”

 “Our loyalty is with the Calypsos!” Moksha snarled out, “Not some corporate scum!”

 “End of the line for you,” Pip said, laughing, “Don’t make it too difficult on yourself, just drop dead.”

 “You fucking assholes!” Donovan barely dodged a swipe from Troy’s blade, rolling over on the ground. The remaining priests jumped in, doing stab motions. Donovan pushed them off, dodging. The warehouse mechanics joined in as well, shooting at Donovan.

 “KILL THE HEATHEN!”

 “I will not die by your fucking hands!” Donovan yelled, shooting the mechanics who managed to maneuver out of the way. Troy managed to land a punch on him, pushing Donovan to the edge of the platform above the grounds with the caged prisoners. The ex-general held his face, snarling.

 “Watch your step.”

 “What?!” Donovan turned around, meeting Perseus’s fist, decking him into the area below. Perseus snickered, looking down at the ex-general.

 Donovan howled in pain, stumbling while getting up. His prescence frightened the caged prisoners as Troy descended down, growling, dragging his blade. Tyreen pushed a button by the display, opening the cages. The prisoners stepped out, confused and afraid.

“Thirty seconds are up, Donovan…” Troy teased, raising his blade up. He limped forward, cackling. Donovan kept a steady stance, hissing.

“How… Just fucking how…!” he hissed out, looking around for an escape. It was suicide to fight out in the open with Troy. Donovan’s eyes landed on the nearby building, quickly sprinting, dodging another swing from Troy. Moksha and Basil turned on the cameras, Tyreen staring at Donovan disappearing into the building.

The ex-general, upon entering the old warehouse, shot several of the cameras, delving into the tight spaces filled with debris.

 “To those present, if you are able to bring down the Great Heathen Donovan, you shall be set free,” Troy announced through the intercom, “And you shall receive divine blessing from the God Queen.” Donovan cursed under his breath. A flurry of footsteps barged in, desperate calls for salvations muttered under breathes.

 “We need to find him!”          “We shall be set free!”           “Praise the Calypsos for a second chance!”               “Heathen, we must kill the heathen!”        “GET HIM!”

 The prisoners dispersed further into the building, searching for him.

 “Fucking shit…!” Donovan muttered, hiding behind a pile of cinderblocks. He had ceased communication with Master after the Let’s Flay with Helen. Going through his thoughts, he was tried to recall any instance he might have slipped up.

 Jackal.

 Jackal had known about the footage but he had bet on the drunk priest’s credibility to be flawed due to his daughter’s death. He was aware of the history of Troy with the priest, but even he knew Troy wouldn’t give Jackal the benefit of doubt.

 “Donovan…”

 The excommunicated general froze, hearing Troy’s voice echo through the building.

 “Donovan….!”

 Donovan gripped tight his shotgun, hearing the scrapping of Troy’s sword against the concrete floor. The audible clicking noise of the fanged jaws amped up his anxiety.

 “Its dangerous to be inside here, Donovan. A lot of people want to hurt you…. At any moment, the building may collapse as well…”

 Heavy footsteps reached the area near him.

 “Donovan….”

 Donovan kept quiet, watching Troy pass by. The Calypso was hunched over, jaws wide open, a crazed looked plastered on his face, breathing heavily.

 “DONOVAN!” Troy roared out.

 No answer.

 The ousted general was familiar with Troy’s behavior, a slight edge in surviving this. Laughing was heard not too far from their location.

 “Oh, looks like we have company…” Troy garbled out, swinging his blade up. Donovan dared to peek out, seeing several of the prisoners giggling as they approached Troy.

 “I’d run if I were you.”

 Donovan turned around, seeing Tyreen smiling down at him from one of the wooden beams. She jumped down, unclenching and clenching her Siren fist. Her smile turned to a thin line.

 “Run.”

 He didn’t need any more encouragement, blasting past Troy and shoving aside the crazed prisoners who tried to lunge at him. From a quick glimpse, he noticed the prisoners’ skins had turned into a light hue of purple, dark marks appearing under their eyes. Their attention drifted to Donovan, chasing after him through the twisted maze of debris in the decrepit warehouse.

 “We must kill the heathen!” they shouted, almost screeching, “Salvation!”

 “Damnit!” Donovan yelled, turning around and shooting, blasting several prisoners away. Those injured quickly recovered, catching up with the group to continue the pursuit on the disgraced general.

 “Watch your head, Donovan,” Tyreen’s voice rang out.

 “Keep your head in the game, Donovan,” Troy’s voice followed, distorted.

 Looking up, Donovan managed to dodge a prisoner who tried to grab him from one of the scaffolds, the remaining prisoners jumping from one platform to another. Desperate, Donovan fled into the basement area of the warehouse, venturing further and further down in attempt to lose the Calypsos and the prisoners. Soon, the torn walls were gone, only a landscape of pipes, vents, and metal floor grids welcomed him.

 Every step he took echoed down the hallway of pipes, alerting his chasers.

 “HEATHEN!”

 Donovan was reaching his limit.

 “HEATHEN!”

 Donovan kept running, adrenaline pumping through his body.

 “Its dangerous to run around here, Donovan,” Tyreen said with a faint hint of concern, her laughter bouncing off the pipes.

 “Yeah, who knows how weak the structure is down here,” Troy said, mischief present in his voice, the banging of metal traveling down the pipes.

 Donovan growled, his footsteps loud and echoing through the narrow passageway of pipes, hissing vents and hanging chains. He ran further in, parts of the floor collapsing behind him with each step.

 “Donovan…” the twins said in unison, “Its dangerous in here.”

 He paused, looking for a way up, freezing when he saw a priest staring down at him from the broken vent pipe, dagger in hand.

 “You fucking bastard!” Donovan yelled, aiming to shoot at the priest. The twin’s footsteps grew closer and closer alongside the prisoners. Before Donovan could shoot, a pair of hands grabbed his feet through the broken metal floor grid, pulling him down. He screamed, caught off guard as he fell through the opening. He grabbed on to a chain nearby, hanging and barely missing a layer of spikes underneath him.

 “Damnit!” Donovan cursed out, looking up to see the priest gone, “You fucking bastard! Come back here!” He quickly surveyed the area, picking up on someone’s presence. The other hanging chains moved about, then everything stood still.

 Donovan’s breathing felt loud on his ears, his blood rushing to his head as the Calypsos walked into view below, smiling at him. Both of them were covered in blood.

 “We did tell you it was dangerous in here,” Tyreen said, her Siren hand twitching.

 “You were never a good listener,” Troy said, popping his jaws back in place, spitting out flesh.

 A surveyor descended through the opening above, heading towards the Calypsos.

 “Y-You are showing this to everyone?!” Donovan shouted, struggling with grip on the chain, “You are playing into that bastard’s hands!”

 “Oh, this isn’t being broadcasted,” Tyreen giggled, licking her lips, “Remember that we are testing the serum, and you proved to be a good toy for the test subjects.”

 “Unfortunately, they got bored chasing you, so they went after me and Ty,” Troy laughed, slapping his knee, “But I have to say, I’m fucking impressed! Roughed me up a little!”

 “How about you come down? You can’t stay hanging up there forever,” Tyreen said, laughing.

 “Yeah, come down Donovan! Let’s have a good chat!” Troy said, grinning, his sharp, bloody teeth showing, “ABOUT HOW YOU CONSPIRED WITH THAT MASTER ASSHOLE BEHIND OUR BACKS!?”

 Donovan knew better than to fight the Calypsos. They were pissed off. After years of being a bandit lord in the wastes and at the service of the Twin Gods, he was now reduced to fresh meat.

 A chew toy. Was this what Helen and you felt like? At the mercy of the twins?

 The Calypsos were prolonging this for their own entertainment.

 They could have easily killed him if they wanted to.

 “….You grew weak….” Donovan said, “She made you weak…” A dead man speaking.

 “Come again?” Troy said, putting his hand by his ear, feigning hard of hearing, “SPEAK LOUDER!”

 “She made you weak! Ever since that plaything arrived, the cult that we had worked hard to build is now the laughingstock!” Donovan shouted, growling, “You two are oblivious to the danger she poses!”

 “Are you hearing him correctly, Ty?” Troy said, turning to look at Tyreen.

 “I believe he called us weak,” Tyreen replied, “And that my plaything is dangerous and we are blind to it?”

 “Ah, okay, then I heard right,” Troy said, now looking at Donovan, “Oblivious, we are not, that’s where you are wrong.”

 “You blind bastards-!” Donovan gagged, grabbing on to a chain wrapped around his neck. He lost his grip on other chain keeping him above the Calypsos, struggling to break free. Gasping for air, he managed to look up, eyes widen.

 By another broken pipe, you stared down at him, expressionless as you tugged at the chain coiled around your arm. You were wearing a priest’s robe.

 “N-No…!” Donovan coughed out. You had been listening to his accusations, the outcast general realizing you were the one who pulled him down to this area.

 “See? You are the oblivious one here, forgetting to always keep your guard up,” Troy shrugged, watching Donovan flail up in the air.

 “We did tell him it was dangerous in here,” Tyreen said, shaking her head in disappointment.

 Troy laughed, pointing at you, but addressing Donovan, “That’s the joke, Don. She’s the danger factor in here!” You pulled hard on the chains, causing Donovan to gag more. His air supply was running out, fear creeping on him, the undeniable harsh reality sinking in.

 He was going to die by your hands.

 Not by the Calypsos.

 But by a plaything. What he considered scum. What Helen had been reduced to before getting killed by his own hand.

 “How unfortunate,” Tyreen said, “Prophet Donovan slipped and fell to his death.”

 “Nah, I think it’s more of ‘Prisoner goes insane, takes down Prophet Donovan,’” Troy offered, tapping a finger on his chin, “’Click here for more!’” He laughed, ignoring Tyreen’s look of disbelief.

 Donovan gasped for air, slipping in and out of consciousness as the Calypsos kept taunting him. This was their playground, the Harvest grounds. A sacred area for the Calypsos to display their raw power for their followers. To remind them who was in charge.

 However, this show was private, for their eyes only.

 He could feel himself slowly drifting away, glancing from the Calypsos to you. You had yet to say anything, keeping quiet, only staring and pulling at the chains. Then, you put on Helen’s psycho mask, letting go of the chains. Donovan landed on the ground with a loud thud, wheezing.

 “I believe I heard something crack,” Troy mused, “Maybe a rib?”

 “Perhaps…” Tyreen said, seeing you jump down and approach Donovan. The man was breathing hard, face shades of blue and red, neck deeply bruised from the chains.

 You were familiar with the feeling, Tyreen’s kicks and slaps leaving an assortment of deep marks on your body, a stomp cracking a rib, giving you immense pain to even breath. You knelt down, tilting your head, the mask covering up your devilish smile. Donovan mustered enough strength to glare at you.

 “You… bitch….” He wheezed out, panting, “You…. Fucking…. Bitch….” You remained in your spot, not responding. However, you took out the Helenite gun from your holster, loading the gun with a single bullet. The Calypsos were surprised, getting a glimpse of the gun’s name and description:

 ‘Green with Envy.’

 “Where did you….?” Troy whispered, hearing the click of the bullet chamber closing. You aimed it at your own head, cocking the gun…

 “W-Wait! What are you doing?!” Tyreen shouted, rushing over, hearing the trigger go off.

 CLICK.

 “NO!” Troy yelled, frozen in place. Tyreen had covered her mouth, gasping. Donovan stared at you, eyes wide.

 The chamber was empty. You cocked the gun again, ignoring the twin’s outbursts, aiming the gun at Donovan’s face, pressing the trigger.

 CLICK.

 Nothing.

 “H-Hey! Have you gone mad?!” Troy yelled, getting angry. Donovan struggled to get up, crawling away. He refused to be part of your macabre performance.

 You aimed back at your head, pulling the trigger.

 CLICK.

 “A-Alright, this isn’t funny anymore!” Tyreen shouted, attempting to grab your arm, “Stop it!” You shoved Tyreen away, aiming the gun again at Donovan.

 Troy caught her, hissing at you, “ENOUGH!”

 CLICK.

 Donovan grunted, wheezing and in deep pain. The Calypsos were trying to stop you, their attempts feeble.

 Weak.

 That’s what Donovan had warned them about. They had grown weak with you around.

 “STOP IT!” Donovan heard Tyreen shout, the clicking of an empty bullet chamber sounding again. No head of yours blown off.

 CLICK.

 “….Jackal?” Troy said from behind Donovan. The man looked up, Jackal staring down at him with a blank expression.

 “The Helenite gun contains six bullet chambers… no elemental damage, no recoil, no eyesight, a high percentage in critical hits, extremely lightweight, short barrel…. but deadly hit damage…” Jackal said, tranquil, “Especially at point-blank range…” He extended his arm out, receiving the it from you.

 Jackal aimed at Donovan’s forehead, cocking the gun, “When you get to hell, tell Helen I said ‘hello.’”

 “Wai-“ Donovan tried to grab the priest’s robe.

 BANG!

 The shot rang out in the old, desolate pipe room, a pool of blood emerging from underneath Donovan’s head. The back part of his head was obliterated, the exit gunshot wound showing brain matter and a broken skull. Jackal held the gun in position, blood splattered on his crimson robe, darker than the material. Some of the blood landed on Helen’s mask on your face.

 “Good riddance,” he muttered, handing you the gun. You reloaded the gun, all six bullet chambers full, snapping the main chamber back in place.

 “Jackal,” Troy said.

 “Yes, Father Troy?” the priest asked, voice void of emotion, staring down at Donovan’s body. No one was holding the dead man’s body.

 “….”

 No one was crying over the dead man’s body.

 “….I’m sorry.”

 No one was out seeking revenge for the dead man.

 “Too bad the one that needs it is dead,” Jackal said, now looking at Troy, expression unchanged. The tall Calypso stared back. This was the first time the priest answered back to a Twin God. Tyreen glanced at you and at Helenite gun in your hand, blood specks on the gun barrel.

 / I’m the wrong person for that statement, too bad the one that needs it is dead./ You had told Troy the same thing.

 “If you will excuse me, I need to escort the God Queen’s plaything out of the Harvest grounds,” Jackal said, turning to leave, “Come along.” You placed the gun away in the holster, following the priest out of the lower level room, no words uttered during the tumultuous exchange.

 No hissing. No growling.

 This wasn’t your moment.

 It was Jackal’s. The priest who had his hands tied, given the opportunity to deliver revenge for his daughter. Divine punishment granted by a plaything.

 Troy approached Donovan’s body, “I wonder what would have happened if she got to you instead of Jackal…” The mask had prevented the twins from seeing your sadistic expression, gleeful at seeing the priest killing Donovan.

 “We saw it at the arena,” Tyreen said, “He’d be missing his lower jaw….”

 ------00000000-------

 “And so the curtain falls on the chapter of The Ripper, formerly known as Prophet Donovan,” Pip announced, taking a drag out of cigarette, blowing out circles of smoke, “Should have kept your mouth shut and look pretty, Don.” He laughed as he pushed the headless body of Donovan into the freezer in the morgue.

 “Watch your head!” Pip cackled, “Fresh meat coming through!”

 On the other tables, inside the morgue, were the remains of the prisoners, some of them completely covered in crystals, courtesy of Tyreen. Others were ripped part, the handiwork of Troy.

 “I say today was a good day for science,” the medic general mused, “A good fucking day…!”

 -----00000000-------

 Troy had a frown on his face, shaking his head, “Brother and sisters, Children of the Vault, it saddens me to say that we lost one of our own…. Prophet Donovan.” The cultists gathered in the cathedral gasped, whispering amongst each other. The right-hand man of Father Troy dead? Basil and Moksha stood by on the side, watching Troy speak. Tyreen was sitting on her throne, looking down at their flock. Those that were present at the Harvest grounds were sworn to secrecy.

 “In our great quest for the Vaults, trouble always follows us,” Troy continued, “His time arrived to ascend into the Red Vault, reach a new heaven!”

 “NEW HEAVEN!” the cultists shouted, “A NEW HEAVEN!” Those present took out their guns, lifting their arms up in the air.

 No one would question the demise of Donovan. The Heathen.

 “I can assure you, a new beginning is upon us!” Troy announced, raising his arms up, “ARE YOU READY TO GIVE YOUR FLESH!?”

 “WE ARE! WE ARE READY!”

 Tyreen smirked, her Siren tattoos glowing bright, the residual energy of the serum still present in the air around her. The lifeforce she took from the prisoners was giving her a small high.  

 “FOR THE CALYPSOS!” the cultists shouted.

 Troy laughed, the serum-contaminated flesh he consumed driving him delirious up at the altar. He could still smell the blood from the Harvest grounds, putting him on edge.

 He could still smell Donovan’s disgusting blood.

 “FOR THE TWIN GODS!” Basil shouted, lifting his arm up.

 “FOR THE GLORY OF THE CALYPSOS!” Moksha followed.

 “FOR THE TWIN GODS!” the cultists chanted, several gunshots sounding off. Troy continued talking about the future raids and plans for the cult, the crowd eating it up.

 You were observing from the second floor, noticing the small changes on the Calypsos under the effect of the serum. This was only minimum exposure. The little monster was excited to see them under the full effect.

 The twins hadn’t noticed your presence, allowing you to slip away from the sermon.

 “Maybe Donovan was right,” you muttered, “I’m a dangerous person.” A cat-like grin adorned your lips.

 All was well in the humble home of the Twin Gods.

 -----0000000-----

 Priests swept the steps of the cathedral’s own courtyard area, going tense when they saw you walk into the area.

 You weren’t welcomed in that part.

 “What do you think you are doing here…” one of the priest hissed out, “Get out before-“ You shoved past him, making your way towards the back part of the courtyard. The priests were about to yell at you when they noticed a trail of blood. They noticed a black bag in your hands, the origin of the blood.

 They scurried off, following you. From a distance, they saw Jackal and Perseus, waiting for you.

 They were at Helen’s grave.

 Several other priests caught sight of you, immediately converging, but keeping their distance, somewhat curious, somewhat angry.

 “You’re late,” Perseus said, hands in his pocket, “Not going to ask how you managed to get your hands on it...” Jackal was holding the Helenite gun, glancing at the nosy priests, some of them hiding at the sight of the gun.

 “Just some info exchange, that is all,” you said, opening the black bag, sticking your hand in it, pulling out a severed head, flesh stripped from the face. The other priests gasped, astonished and horrified.

 “Stake is ready,” Perseus pointed at a wooden stake behind Helen’s gravestone. Grinning, you impaled the head on it, pushing hard, blood oozing out. Stepping back, you admired your handiwork.

 “I feel like its missing something…” you said, tapping your chin, blood smearing on your face. Perseus chuckled, reaching into his own leather bag, pulling out a flower crown made from the purple hyacinths that Tyreen had given you. He approached the grave, placing it neatly on severed head.

 “What about now?” Perseus asked.

 “Perfect,” Jackal said, “Definitely suits him.”

 Donovan.

 You smiled, kneeling down to pat the soil on the grave, “Sorry for the trouble, Helen. I just have shitty luck…I hope this is enough for forgiveness…” You got up, Perseus patting the priest on the shoulder as Jackal sighed, tears falling from his face.

 “What next?” Perseus asked. You eyed the cathedral, the ruckus ongoing inside with the Calypsos.

 “Take down the Rat King,” you whispered, touching the triangle scar on the back of your head.

 Then Cetus.

 Perhaps along the way, the Calypsos as well.

 You weren’t sure about the last part. You were part of their dysfunctional family.

 ------00000000-------

 Who will fall into madness? The reader or the Calypsos? :D Ey, little family arc is somewhat over. Another one bites the dust, is someone else going to be on the chopping block? Who knows!

 Gosh darn, I rewrote this freaking chapter so many times… this was the final version I was satisfied with. 31K words and I was debating on removing certain parts.

 Comments and kudos feed this tiny gremlin! :D

#the calypso twins thirst #the calypso twins #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #troy calypso x reader #tyreen calypso x reader #i poured a lot of anger in this chapter thanks to work #i was close in putting 'whatasize it' instead of family #but thats more of a texas joke