Chapter Text
Crossroads. A city that caters to the inphernals that have lost their paths and seek a change for the better. A metropolis that is lived by the factionless, made to house those who need a fresh start, and to allow new beginnings to bloom with relative ease.
Many deem Crossroads as some sort of safe haven from the chaos known as Inpherno. Everyone is unique in their own way — and that diversity worked out like a charm.
That’s what the majority claimed — or so Shuriken thought to himself, at least. He obviously wasn’t a mind reader or something, but the lifestyle he and his siblings lived — the lack of tension and relaxed smiles — could be a testimony to that statement one way or another, no?
Shuriken silently hummed, kicking his legs forward as he sat on top of the many buildings belonging to what he should consider his ‘home’.
It was hard to accept such changes when his mind wandered back to Thieve’s Den, and by default, the Darkage Clan. The climate, the inphernals, the cuisine that belonged to the humid land — Crossroads simply couldn’t beat the wonders of Thieve’s Den!
Sure, call him blinded by nostalgia, but nothing could replicate the emotions and moments he had experienced during his time in the Darkage Clan.
…With the exception of his vigilante life, of course. Silver Shadow, overseer of Crossroads as he had been dubbed, simply made up for the boring, mundane routine that he experienced within the borders of Crossroads.
It was a feeble attempt to preserve the skills and principles that the Clan had instilled into him — that much Shuriken could accept. To conceal the guilt that lingered whenever he thought of Thieve’s Den. However, the adrenaline and joy it brought from pursuing a path of justice? It went through the roof! And no, he wasn’t exaggerating.
Besides, was it so wrong to miss Thieve’s Den when he had been safer there? Where his secret hadn’t exactly been a ‘secret’ at the time?
. . .
Okay, maybe the term ‘safer’ didn’t exactly fit most inphernal situations. Plus, it was difficult to see his point of view when no one exactly knew what this secret was. See, as much as Shuriken didn’t want to admit, he was a special case of sorts.
A furry case, to be more precise.
It isn’t unusual for inphernals to spawn with animal traits — Slingshot himself was a prime example of that! But to fully transform into a whole different being? An animal through and through?
Well, that was out of the typical — and Shuriken unfortunately was a part of those extremely rare scenarios.
It was... upsetting, to put it lightly. One day a month was being taken away from him as he spent those agonising hours as a dragon. Not the big, cool ones, with wings and spitting fire and dangerous claws — but instead a small, harmless little thing that one would see on social media, used for farming likes and attention. Couldn’t he have been more, oh, I don’t know, normal?
It was as if he and Vine Staff had both been cursed in their own unique ways, in a sense, and neither got the long end of the stick.
At first, those transformations were a getaway from the Clan and a reason to spend more time with his banished sibling. To properly rest up and gain the energy that had been used up. It was an advantage to him!
…Of course, said advantage diminished the second he settled in Crossroads. Again, another source of resentment towards the city, but that wasn’t the point here.
Nowadays it just messed with his vigilante schedule, forcing him to spend his hours locked in the apartment. Can you believe that?? He wasn’t even allowed outside until his body reverted back to normal! Shuriken could only nap for so long before boredom consumed him whole.
(Not that he didn’t need those hours of sleep. He was grateful for them, but the idea of missing out on even a single night left a bitter emotion swelling up within him.)
And to egg him on further, that day was right around the corner if his memory hadn't failed him. Not like he was keen on keeping track of his transformations, it would just act as a reminder of a side that he didn’t want to accept anymore.
Which is exactly why Shuriken — or rather, Silver Shadow — was out in the sleeping city, patrolling like he always would. He would continue with his schedule as he always did, and it would all be fine.
No more dragon thinking or pondering on what ifs. Just he, himself, and a night all to Silver Shadow. Yeah.
With that being said, Silver Shadow quickly hopped back on his feet before aiming the hook of his grapple at one of the countless lamp posts and swinging towards who knows where. His movements were swift and fluid, each step held with confidence as the moonlight fell over him.
It felt way better to be under the moon than to be under the artificial light that would shine into his eyes at Sling’s workplace. No offense to the cool lightbulbs or his brother’s choice in lighting.
From there on, his night went on just as the green-horned inphernal had anticipated. A handful of thugs were expected here and there, and some cat petting was also crucial to his strict routine — not to forget about the much-needed visit to the nearest convenience store for some snacks, too.
Energy was crucial after all, even if the exhaustion that followed him during the daylight never seemed to get to him during this time of the hour.
It was only around the later hours, whilst he tied up the last thug of the night, when Silver Shadow began to notice an anomaly in his rather typical shift. Abandoning the knocked out inphernal in one of the countless alleyways for whatever authority looked over Crossroads to come and find them, his masked gaze silently looked over the odd phenomenon.
Pieces of frozen, solid ice stuck to the cracked walls belonging to buildings, as well as a thin sheet of it coating the dirtied ground, too. It almost felt as if a whole glacier had consumed just this bit of the alley and melted away into a stubborn layer of bitter frost.
And, well, that is odd. Like really, really odd, considering that it hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.
Not daring to come in contact with the glacial mass, Silver Shadow decided to hop past the icy area (whilst hoping that it would melt away naturally and wouldn’t have to chip away at it) he was met with a second surprise that night.
Two dismembered biografts. Or at least extremely damaged ones.
. . .
“..Seriously?” Shuriken mumbled under his breath, lightly kicking the metal object with his foot. If before he could’ve excused the ice as some unnatural incident, then this one just proved that someone had been here. A mystery person of sorts — and a strong one at that.
Man, could this night get any worse? Or interesting? He wasn’t exactly sure if this was a good sign or not — so how could he possibly know how to label this night?
Besides, who else is lurking in the dead of night? Another vigilant of sorts? Impossible.
Whoever decides to just randomly take on Biografts when there are no witnesses whatsoever either has to be extremely stupid or annoyingly brave — Silver Shadow dully concludes, picking up the pace as he pursues the trail of utterly destroyed machinery that belonged to Blackrock.
(A part of Shuriken wonders just how much bux goes into these things. He’d imagine that whoever is a part of the Financial Team of Korblox Administration is probably fuming over the constant loss.)
(Scratch that — they’re probably on the verge of breaking down at this point.)
With every turn he took and hop onto the roof of the building he made, it didn’t take much time to understand that the Biografts were also on the chase for this mystery inphernal.
The smell of overheated fans and dripples of oil smeared onto walls said everything, really.
Which, of course, just generated more questions. Like, what did this inphernal do to gain the attention of these killing machines? Why were the Biografts so determined to get their metallic claws on him? Better yet — Where were they right now, since the trail just abruptly comes to an end!?
Could this get any more difficult? It’s like he signed himself up for some murder mystery, except —
. . .
Wait a second.
Silver Shadow halts, holding his head high as a faint noise reaches his ears. It was a soft purr of an overheated engine, an annoying beep he’d heard from a while ago. Without a doubt, a Biograft was near him.
And if the constant noise wasn’t a crystal clear sign, then the chill air that settled over was a dead giveaway. Shuriken had definitely struck gold.
…And by gold, he means he reached the core of this troublesome hunt. (Finally!)
Rolling his shoulder, his gaze falls on the source of the noise as his legs carry him towards the direction. Breath held, Silver Shadow summons his gear in his hand, having a tight grip on it as he ponders on the situation.
He liked to believe he was far above the skills one would need to take down a Biograft. After all, he was an ex-member of the Darkage Clan, and he’s pretty sure all the training he went through wouldn’t be for nothing.
Silver Shadow had to be capable of doing this. No exceptions.
( Because if he couldn’t take down a damaged Biograft with ease, then how skilled was he in reality? Shuriken didn't want to think that his abilities had dulled over time.)
Agh — Stay focused, Shuriken! Mind clear, eyes on the target. He was on duty! Not home, where he could fall into a pit of constant what-ifs and whatever else dared to cross his mind during those times.
Lightly pinching at his covered wrist, a look of determination washed over him as he let himself blend with the countless shadows.
With each step he took, the whirring grew louder and louder in his ears. A permanent noise that kept him on his toes for any sign of movement. Silver’s body grew tense with anticipation, brows furrowed as he took the final corner and did something he typically wouldn’t do by any means.
He lunged at the noise. Instead of attempting to swiftly attack from behind or stun the threat with the weapon at hand, he jumped at it in a wish to take it down, rather than anything else
(And to think he had been calling the mysterious inphernal stupid — cause what the hell was he doing!)
In an instant, the unusual manner of handling the Biograft shortly backfired on him.
Stumbling forward rather than coming in contact with the metallic machine in a harsh push, Shuriken yelped as the hood fell over his mask, rendering his vision to a pit of darkness. The scarf slipped under his foot, and after a wrong step the ninja quickly made contact with the cold concrete instead.
Okay, great! Started off on the wrong foot!
Shuriken huffed, lying flat over the surface, whilst the beeping only acted to aggravate him further. Now, where did he go wrong?
And why did he feel lost in his own clothing? Last time he checked, the sizing wasn’t this big.
Unless… Unless…!
Shuriken squirmed, eyes blown wide open as he registered the sensation of sharp claws ripping through his cloak — and by default, the scarf too.
There had been no warning, let alone a sign that this would be coming, but the consequences of not keeping track of his transformations came back at him in full force. The worst case scenario that Shuriken could ever think of — and it happened whilst he was approaching the Biograft.
He had morphed into that forsaken dragon. A cat-sized one at that.
( Guess that explains the trip over nothing but air. He knew he couldn’t be that clumsy to the point of slipping over like that. )
That wasn’t good. Not at all — no, no, he was FUCKED.
And that he wasn’t overplaying this, it was the full truth. Shuriken was somewhere in Crossroads, far away from the comfort of his bed — and his siblings? Completely unaware of this.
Okay, great. No stress, no worries — he was going to be fine.
…As ‘fine’ as he could get in the vicinity of a Biograft that.. hadn’t exactly attacked yet. The beeping remained there, however.
Not like he was planning to find out the current state of the machine anymore. Not when he was left defenseless like this. Shuriken was all for heroism and justice, but returning to his family was far more important.
It was a number one priority.
With a flick of his tail, the white dragon wiggled out of the few layers of clothing he usually wore. Paws pressed and pushed away at it, and within seconds, his snout was out in the open.
Ah, fresh air. Tinted with fumes and whatnot. Shuriken definitely needed that about now.
He would also need a really good explanation as to why he was out in the open whenever he returned to his siblings. Shuriken highly doubts he could climb up to his window AND open it, too, in this form.
Paws and claws simply weren’t his forte — and fangs had no place to be near a window.
Now, one would think from now on it would be a mere run through the maze of alleyways back to the apartment he and his siblings lived in. That should’ve been the ideal course of action, right?
Oh, how wrong Shuriken could’ve been. In fact, he was extremely far away from that hopeful plan of his when the silhouette of that darned inphernal decided to show up in the corner of his eye.
Unlucky. Shuriken was utterly unlucky. That’s what he was starting to believe, as the sound of what he thought was a hand plummeting through the chestplate of said Biografts rippled in the quiet night. The beeping was gone in an instant, and the sound of his heartbeat filled the silence instead.
For the very first time in a while, he felt anxious. Not the type of anxiety that would bloom in social situations, but the kind that has him thinking of all the potential outcomes. Of what ifs.
And for the very first time, Shuriken felt small.
( Oh, how it sucks to be a dragon. )