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Rounded up in the subway tunnels, the air was becoming thicker with frightened and nervous breaths, fires raged out on the streets, and the ground quaked as more tendrils of the voracity stretched out throughout the planet.
They only had a few calculated system hours left, Silver Wolf had texted him the estimated time. Here he is now, technically alone, freed from the script and his mara induced mania. He overlooked the rubble in a caved-in tunnel, the situation was quite dire, especially after having to drag a few certain people out of the literal jaws of danger.
He rashly chose to take up Shuhu’s mask, remade the repugnant thing, tying himself in fate to this planet, he wasn’t the type to up and flee. Even though it was hastily chosen, it was one of the first choices he has made since this body was made a host centuries ago.
From across the way he spots a familiar face in the moving sea of people, he can somewhat hear their conversation. The crowd gives him a wide berth.
The ranger, masquerading as a detective, speaks to a man in a grey spandex suit, one of those superheroes that he only knew of from the IPC’s produced video of them fighting SAM. Silver Wolf had played the distasteful thing for all of them to see.
Even incognito it seems that Mr. La Mancha can’t help himself from trying to find new recruits.
“If you’re sure you want to stay, I’m sure it’ll bring solace to those remaining here, Cinderborne.”
“Thanks, you take care Detective Ashveil.”
“Stay safe.”
La Mancha opens his arms and gathers the other into a great, but brief hug, finished with a pat on the shoulder.
Blade crosses his arms.
How many times has he refused La Mancha’s whims, asking for a hug instead of saying goodbye. Yingxing had never acquiesced, he was too proud and stubborn for that, already had enough farewells in his short lifetime. Maybe the two of them did hug after a few hours of sharing drinks, but stone cold sober? Definitely not. The frown on La Mancha’s face as he would sheepishly return his arms back to his sides, could be easily recalled from his once frazzled memory.
Memory. He could somewhat recall the drinking habits of the quintet, Baiheng would hang off of him, and Jing Yuan was a flirtatious drunk; Jingliu would clink cups, able to hold as much alcohol as him, and Dan Feng was a lightweight.
He felt different, a scant day ago he was the swordpoint of Destiny’s Slave, now he was still a blade, but also a mobile prison to the monster living in his chest. He wouldn’t hear Shuhu’s endless ramblings anymore unless he willed to do so. His mind was clear, able to touch those memories that would have sent him into a frenzy only a little while ago.
“Yingxing.” La Mancha’s terse face melted back into the soft grin he normally wore, he had spotted him gritting his teeth in the chaos. “I’m glad I caught you.”
Blade wasn’t sure if he had wanted or would have time to speak with the man, but he had sought him out in the crowd.
La Mancha eyed his new outfit up and down. “After causing this crisis by giving the voracity some indigestion, aren’t you looking quite spiffy?”
An antiquated term, more proof that the young looking face was as much a facade as his profession. Yesterday he would have said it was due to the fact that the two of them had escaped their graves.
“I went shopping.”
La Mancha laughed. Wiping a tear from his eye he said, “Cracking jokes? You certainly look different than last I saw you. And I don’t mean your outfit.”
Maybe his self reforging was more evident than he thought. Blade remained silent.
La Mancha shrugged.
“I spotted you while finishing up with Magnus. Unfortunately I have been encouraged to head with the Astral Express to Astropolis. For a few reasons, one of which,” He held up his prosthetic arm. “Madame Pearl has calculated that if the voracity eats the shadow, the timeline will move up too fast for any plan.”
He had been inside the sleeping beast’s maw, the sheer magnitude of its power was indescribable, and now it was wreaking havoc across the entire planet.
“So my old friend, are you staying or coming with me?”
Blade blinked in surprise. Another decision open to him. It’s been so long since he’s had complete freedom of choice. Each one was newly precious. He could think of them like a chain in the links of fate as did Elio who would spend sleepless nights weighing the costs of an action or an inaction, or impulsively only consider the here and now of what he wanted to do.
“I’ll be staying here. Silver Wolf remains on the planet as well.”
La Mancha’s smile became a frown. “Ah yes the little cub. I was hoping we could catch up on the IPC vacation planet, a taste of retirement before retirement.” He tipped his hat. “Well we’ll just have to postpone to a more opportune time, maybe over drinks? The tavern has stuff that would knock your socks off.”
“I’d…,” he paused, “like that.”
The sparkle returned to his silver eyes. “Great, it’s a date then.” Blade couldn’t even protest before the man sighed. “But I was hoping that maybe this one time you’d choose to go with me.”
The decisions of long ago still held weight. How he had rebuffed joining the Galaxy Rangers. This was the same reason he decided to remain; he was not of noble ilk, only choosing to stay for his own selfish reasons, and to test out the limits of his new constitution.
The sad look on his face made La Mancha look as if a sopping wet dog rather than the fierce wolf he said he was always striving for as the First Fang. Yingixing never thought he looked anything other than pretty, maybe he agrees when he doesn’t look so pathetic.
Once again they would depart, even as La Mancha left him when he was going to deliver himself to the vortex of the voracity, they had not said goodbye to each other.
“I suppose such things can't be helped.” La Mancha nodded then turned to step away.
That wasn't like the man he remembered and just saw, so Blade asked, “Aren't you forgetting something?”
A sly grin starting to appear on the broken wolf's face. “Why Yingxing, were you jealous? Magnus is just a sweet kid.”
“Be quiet.”
“Alright.”
They didn't need words, La Mancha opened his arms and stood there, waiting patiently.
Yingxing would have stepped back brushing him off, the Blade of yesterday would have too, saying something curt at the open invitation. Today…walking into another man's arms was not nearly as nerving as falling backwards in the maw, yet.
Blade closed the gap, slipping his arms and pulling La Mancha into a hug, maybe one that was long overdue. The other man lets out a tiny gasp in surprise, his stiff arms slacken as he wraps his arms around his shoulders to return the gesture. He can’t feel much with the layer of clothes between them, but the warmth from holding onto another person is distinctive and solid. After years of eschewing touch, he allows the gesture to be comforting, the rigidity flowing out of his body. He takes note that the prosthetic arm grips him a smidgen tighter than the other, maybe it needs some rebalancing. Blade takes another moment to indulge in the simple contact, before his boldness wears off and feels he needs to start wiggling out of his grasp.
“I’ll see you at the bar,” he stated.
La Mancha seemed to understand the message, letting him go of his embrace with one last pat on his back.
The pitiable look on his face has been wiped totally clear, only leaving the faint wisps of a smile. “The tab is going to be on you.”
Blade looked away, “I can afford it.” Bereft of the contact, he could admit he missed it a tiny bit already.
A stomp of the cane on the ground made him look back. “Give those beasties a taste of hell.” He grimaced. “I have to deal with the real problem of those IPC snakes.”
Blade could feel his own grin creeping on his lips. “I shall.”
The stationmaster cat crackled throughout the halls on the loudspeaker. Announcing the evacuation of the majority of the populace on the Express. The click of his heels against the smooth subway tiles, announced his departure.
Now it was time for Blade to become a blade once more, slipping past the roving crowds as he headed towards an open exit.