Nanoha FanFiction Discussion

[Allquall]

This is very different from what I usually do. For those who think milk is too sweet and dark is too bitter, here's a little semi-sweet story.

Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part one

Spoiler for Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part two (End):

Zest struggled as he leaned back to pull the oars. Another cold wave crashed on top of him and his tiny vessel as he rowed toward the small lights from the shore. Thinking about her had been too much for him. He never got to say that he was sorry for what happened. He never got to plead for forgiveness. He just came home one night to an empty house, divorce papers, and a restraining order. A large swell rocked the rowboat, and Zest felt a large sliver of wood from the oar pop a stitch in his hand, but he held onto the handles lest he lose them to the angry Atlantic. He crested the wave and caught a glimpse of the twinkling lights on the shore. Riding the large wave down, he thought about that day again. He never got to say goodbye.

It had been a few decades since he called for her all through the house. The echoes from the empty rooms made the situation real for him, and the stack of legal documents on the dining room table confirmed his worst suspicions. Although he had guessed long before that she would leave, his imagination did not prepare him for the empty house. He stood in front of the pile of papers as his eyes struggled to focus on the tiny lines of legalese on the document. After for what may have been minutes or hours, Zest shuffled his weary feet to the familiar ledge next to his boots and pulled out the glass bottle of clear liquid. He started to reach for the small glass on the edge of the bar but reached instead for the bottle itself. A few deep gulps later of Griffith’s dad’s moonshine, Zest finally dulled the pain of a Signumless house.

The older man’s reflections came to an abrupt end when a swell near the coast finally succeeded in overturning the tiny rowboat, yet the hard rain and the open sea did little to distress the old fisherman. He timed his strokes with the waves and steadily swam to shore. When his feet finally felt the soft sinking of coastal sand, Zest plodded through the waves and collapsed onto the shore though the storm still raged above him. He slept soundly amid the damp reeds and littered cans of Natural Light.

-- -- --

He pushed himself up off of the sand as the sound of the rolling sea and screeching gulls filled his ears. Every muscle in his body cried out in pain while he coughed and rolled himself up to stand. His old back cracked as he straightened himself, and he coughed and spat into the sand before walking up the beach and into the grass. If he wasn’t mistaken, there would be a road five hundred yards ahead, and the man’s old instincts served him well.

His clothes irritated him as the saltwater evaporated and left him with a sticky film on his skin. However, Zest tried to distract his irritation as his feet scuffed against the asphalt of the two-lane beach road. The placement of the morning sun told him that he was traveling south and that the day would be a rare Maine scorcher.

“Just my luck,” he mumbled to himself, “I get like this on the only good fishing day of the year.”

Passing cars provided him with a relieving breeze every once in a while, which was a small comfort since their drivers ignored Zest’s extended thumb. He walked along the lonely highway for hours, and his feet ached at the exercise. However, the long blast of a horn from a passing semi took his mind off of his pain-filled body. The eighteen wheels of the big rig roared ahead of him and then slowed and stopped about a few hundred yards ahead.

Zest quickened his step as the driver’s door opened, and a young man climbed out of the rig.

“Hey, old-timer!” the man with short cropped hair yelled, “Need a lift?”

Zest let a smile grow across his face and nodded. He climbed up the passenger side while the younger man swept the random fast food wrappers and nudie magazines into the sleeper.

“All right, buckle up, old man,” the young man said merrily while the gears on the rig clunked into place as he shifted them, “Where ya headed?”

“Cajah’s Mountain, North Carolina,” the old man said gruffly.

“Never heard of it,” the young man said honestly, “What’s it near?”

“A little southwest of Winston-Salem.”

“Hmmm…I might be able to take you there, old timer,” the young trucker chuckled adjusting his Georgia Bulldogs baseball cap, “I’m on my way to Savannah. Got a few stops to make, so it ain’t gonna be a straight shot run, but I should be able to drop you off near there in a few days.”

Zest was truly touched by the young man’s generosity, “You may have to wait a few weeks for me to be able to pay you back for this. I don’t have a lot of cash on me.”

The young man laughed loudly as the old Mack truck increased its speed with every click of the gears. “Don’t worry about that!” he grinned, “Just keep me awake. I’m on the backside of an East Coast run, and No Doz can only get me so far.”

“I really appreciate this Mr.…uh…” Zest grumbled.

“I’m a trucker not a Mister,” the young man smiled.

“What’s your name then?”

The younger man pointed to the stack of porno mags, cigarette butts, and liters of moonshine on the top cot of the sleeper. “My handle on the road is ‘Vice’,” he said with a proud grin, “What can I call you, grandpa?”

“Zest.”

“Too bad you ain’t living up to it,”

-- -- --

Vice stopped at the first truck stop on the highway. As the tanks inhaled thousands of dollars worth of diesel, Zest and Vice got change for a dollar and spent the quarters at the trucker showers. The floor had a weird green mold growing on it, and the water was a little warmer than an ice cube, but Zest finally felt clean. He had thrown away his flannel shirt and jeans that he had worn on the boat and settled for a pair of Carhartt dungarees and a denim work shirt that he found cheap at the Ace Hardware Store across the street. Finally, with their bellies full of meatloaf and apple pie, the two men wandered back to the old rig.

“Go ahead a take a few hours in the sleeper, Zest,” Vice said while sipping his coffee, “I’ve got a good four hours till I have to pull off.”

Zest would have politely declined the offer if his eyes weren’t already heavy. He climbed up the side door of the sleeper and crawled through old issues of JUGS and Barely Legal and collapsed on the cot that stank of spilled whiskey and cheap tobacco.

“I bet that you hide this shit from your parents when you visit, eh?” teased Zest as he turned onto his side.

“Ain’t got ‘em, so I don’t have to,” replied the young man.

“Sorry about their passing, kid.”

“I don’t think that they’re dead,” said Vice while he shifted the lower gear into position, “My dad ran out on my mom before I was born, and then my grandma won custody over me when I was around a year old. We moved to Valdosta to live, and I started trucking as soon as I could drop out of high school.”

“That’s a bum deal, Vice,” mumbled Zest.

“I used to think so too, and it made me pretty angry when I was a kid,” said Vice adjusting the mirrors, “but I ain't mad anymore. My folks probably had their reasons for doing what they did. I would like to ask them ‘why’ if the opportunity ever came up, but that would be a miracle shot.”

Zest grumbled something incomprehensible as his eyes shut.

“Get some rest, old man.”

-- -- --

Oddly, it was the silence that woke Zest from his deep sleep. The truck was completely still with the exception of the occasional shake caused by the passing cars and trucks.

“Vice?” Zest called into the darkness while cracking his back.

He didn’t have a watch, but he could tell that it was very late into the evening. He popped the sleeper door open and could hear Vice’s distinctive laugh. Zest looked around and could see the young trucker talking to another person in a nearly empty parking lot. After his feet scraped against the asphalt, he limped over to where the other two men were.

“Hey pops!” waved Vice.

“Who’s this?” the other man asked.

“He’s cool,” answered Vice as he flicked his cigarette lighter, “I picked him up south of Portland. Looks like he’s thumbing it to North Carolina.”

The other man nodded to Zest but without bothering to smile. Vice held out his lighter in front of his face while drawing a deep breath. He held his breath and passed whatever he was holding to the other trucker who also inhaled deeply.

“Want a toke, pops?” asked Vice with a thin stream of smoke coming from his mouth and nostrils.

“Nah,” answered Zest, “I’m too old for that shit, but don’t tell me you’re going to drive now.”

Vice shook his head and yawned, “It helps me sleep. I could sleep through the Apocalypse on this stuff. By the way, Jail, this is Zest. Zest, this is Jail.”

“Funny name,” remarked Zest.

“Got it from being there a few times,” said Jail slyly.

“So where the hell are we?” asked Zest trying to change the subject.

“Southbound I-95, right outside of Philly,” said Vice taking another toke, “I’ve gotta put in another ten hours easy if I’m going to make it to Richmond, but that ain’t happenin’ tonight.”

Zest chuckled at Vice’s goofy smile as the herb took its effect on the young man, and Vice laughed stupidly as his body relaxed against the front of the Volvo insignia on the grill of Jail’s rig. The older man waved and then put his hands in his pockets while walking toward the rest area bathroom facilities as the orange streetlight flickered and hissed above him. He shook his head as he pushed opened the door of the dank men’s restroom. Someone had vomited on the seat of the first stall, and its stench lingered. Zest shuddered as he entered into the middle stall and obeyed the call of nature.

As he sat in the silent bathroom that reeked of piss and puke, the old man let his mind think about the young man getting stoned in the parking lot. What sort of parents would leave a boy like that to fend for himself?

“If he were my son…” Zest started to mutter before stopping himself.

What kind of father would he be? Would he have changed at all if Signum hadn’t walked out? Zest rested his elbows on his naked knees as he contemplated this question, but his mind wandered farther than he would have liked. ‘What if she has a son now?’ he thought, “That blond cop of hers was stationed in Raleigh for years. Maybe they adopted.” The ‘what-might-have-beens’ gripped Zest as he sat alone.

When he finished, Zest yawned and walked slowly to the rumbling engine of the old Mack truck. He climbed the side of the sleeper and popped the door open wide enough to hear Vice’s snores. Zest gruffly smirked and moved to open the passenger door. The old air-conditioner hummed while Zest leaned his seat back and let his eyes close once again.

The morning sun woke them up, and Vice stretched and yawned, “Ya ready to earn your keep, pops?” Zest nodded. The young trucker popped the clutch, and the semi slowly started moving forward, “I’ve got a delivery in Richmond that I need to make before nightfall in shitty rush hour traffic.”

“You feeling all right?” Zest grumbled.

“Better than last night,” replied Vice as he wiped brow under his hat.

Zest shook his head in amazement at the young man’s resiliency, “You need to take care of yourself.”

“So what about you?” smiled Vice though he was obviously changing the subject, “What makes a man climb into a rig in Maine to go to a town in North Carolina in the middle of nowhere?”

Zest leaned back against the seat. He had expected this question but didn’t realize the effort that it would take to answer it. “I guess it’s the same reason why any man does something stupid.”

“Women problems at your age, pops?”

Zest nodded as he stretched his legs and chuckled, “Can’t get away from 'em.”

“So, is this your second family, girlfriend-“

“Ex-wife.”

“Eww, why would you want to go see that?”

“Not sure,” said Zest quietly, “but I need to see her. Got to talk with her.” Zest’s eyes glazed over as he let the image of Signum dance in his head.

Vice took a quick peek over at his passenger before turning his attention to the merging traffic. “Zest, you sure that she wants to see you?”

“I don’t know,” replied Zest while looking at the floor and the empty KFC cups, “It’s been a few years, and I don’t like how things ended.”

“Did your kids tell you it was safe to go back or something?”

“We didn’t have children,” said Zest gruffly, “It never seemed like the right time to have them. Kinda regret that now.”

“Don’t,” said Vice with a determined look in his eye, “If you couldn’t care for them, then you shouldn’t have had them. Better no kids, then letting them grow up in hell.”

“Sorry, kid,” said Zest, “but you had your grandmother there to raise you, right?”

“G’ma will always be there for me,” said Vice sternly, “but I don’t have a lot of people waiting for me to come home, so I don’t go much. Sometimes, I wish that my dad would have passed out completely than messin’ with my mom that night.”

Zest let the conversation drop and the cab of the old Mack truck was once again silent though the occupants barely knew it due to their memories playing before them.

-- -- --

The Richmond stop took Vice longer than he expected. The military contractor that he dealt with had a new guy in receiving department who took twice as long with the paperwork than the last receiving supervisor. Zest took over the cot as Vice argued with the new guy about which form he got to keep.

“Yes! You take the yellow copy, and I have- NO! Yellow copy, dumbass!”

Zest listened to Vice’s muffled, frustrated cries through the thick walls of the cab. He chuckled to himself before letting his eyes close. Virginia. His heart pounded as he realized that he was very near those blue colored mountains hidden in fog and kudzu. The Appalachian hills looked so peaceful, almost like the feeling of a flat ocean on a warm sunny day. Those kinds of days where no one got anything done, but you were glad to be alive. Zest appreciated those kinds of days the most, but the last time he ever felt like that had been when Signum cradled him in her arms while he fell asleep on her lap after an afternoon picnic. Her arms were strong, and her face was stern most of the time, but in the first half of their marriage, Zest saw her soft side.

She had only cried twice in front of him. The first time was when their mangy watchdog, Zaffy, had been hit by a car after they had first moved in together, but the second time was tears of happiness when they both bit the bullet and exchanged vows at a small ceremony in the Methodist church at the end of the road. Why she even wanted a wedding, Zest could never figure out, and Signum would only say that she wanted to see him in a tie at least once in her life. He laughed at the memory yet held his breath as he remembered after. Her muscular arms embracing his chest leaving behind a cool trail of passionate sweat. The taste of her tongue flickered in his mind, and he mentally grasped wildly to regain it.

“Pops, you ok?”

Startled, Zest sat up and rubbed his eyes, “Sorry, lost myself for a moment there.”

Vice raised his eyebrows at him before slamming the driver’s side door closed and letting the engine turn. They drove a few more hours south until Vice parked the truck in the back lot of a public rest stop for his mandated eight hours of sleep. Vice collapsed onto the cot in the sleeper, and Zest leaned his seat back. If he wasn’t mistaken, only a few more hours of hard driving and he would be in Cajah’s Mountain. He had trouble sleeping after that.

-- -- --

“Hey, pops,” said Vice as he handed Zest an old beat up duffel bag, “take your time and clean up for her. I’ve got a razor and good smelling shit in the bag.”

Zest unzipped the bag and saw the toiletries carelessly heaped together at the bottom. Two thin, square packages got his eye, and he held one up for Vice.

“If you think you may need a rubber, take it. I ain’t using it,” smiled Vice, “Truck fucks seem to be out of style anymore. Sucks hard.”

Zest dropped the condom back into the bag and jumped out of the rig.

“Be sure to use all your quarters in the shower, ya cheapskate!” Vice yelled after him. Zest couldn’t help but smile. Something about that boy.

-- -- --

Cajah’s Mountain Welcomes You!

Zest read the sign again opened the rig door.

“Hey, Zest.” The older man looked over at the young trucker who had a large brown stain on his t-shirt from the barbecue sauce they had at lunch. Vice handed Zest a piece of paper with lines of undisciplined scribbling on it. “I’ve got a few days off after I hit Valdosta,” said the young man, “You’ve got my number now. Let me know how it goes. I’ve got another run up to Portland next week, so call if you need a ride back.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“Anytime, pops.”

The two men shook hands, and Zest leaped down to the grassy shoulder of the narrow highway. Vice blew the horn twice and waved before the old diesel engine rumbled away. Zest smiled as he turned his back to the road and walked toward the large green sign.

-- -- --

Finding Signum’s address was as easy as flipping through a phone book while eating cherry pie at the local diner.

“Wolkenritter, Signum - (568) 362-6642”

She had taken her maiden name to both his pride and despair. ‘Still as strong as ever,’ Zest thought. The waitress across the diner bar refilled his coffee, and Zest asked the tall redhead with a short temper how he could get to Brentwood Circle.

“How do you think you get there, idiot!” she shouted at him.

“Tia,” her coworker with purple hair shook her head, “It’s just a few blocks ahead, mister. We’re not that big of a town.”

Zest nodded with a word of thanks and left a tip on the counter before leaving the tiny diner. The walk ahead of him seemed slow due to his excitement, and, when he saw the small house with the manicured lawn, he could barely contain himself with the mixture of apprehension and elation. He would see her, and though his head knew that she was lost to him, his heart still hoped.

He stood in front of the porch steps for minutes as his hands trembled inside the pockets of his Carhartts. His hand instinctively moved to his breast pocket in search of a lighter and pack of smokes though he had quite smoking years ago. Old habits never die it seemed. His feet remained rooted to the ground while sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Do you come in peace?” said a voice from the side of the house.

All the muscles in Zest’s body tightened at the familiar voice. He turned slowly to see his ex-wife turning off the water and circling the green garden hose back onto the outside hook. “Well?”

“Peace,” he mumbled.

She snorted a lopsided smile at him before climbing the porch steps ahead of him. Zest took in the sight of the pink-haired woman’s curves and ached to touch them. The dark tan accentuated her best parts though the sun damage on her hands gave away her age. She was still the strong woman he had held before.

“Don’t worry,” Signum said holding the screen door open for him, “She’s at the office. Grab a seat by the table.”

The tiny house seemed so lived in and cozy that Zest felt as if he had arrived home after a long day at work. The very air smelled like her, her old squall jacket hung by the door, and there she was over a pot on the stove scooping out the freshly brewed tea with a ladle. “Sweetened or unsweetened?” she asked.

“Just some lemon,” he replied.

The full glass clunked against the wood dining table, and Signum sat across from him mixing in a generous helping of cane sugar into her iced tea. Zest had so much that he wanted to say, but all he could do was stare at her calm face. The crow’s feet on the side of her eyes had deepened in their separation, and the wrinkles by the sides of her mouth had become more pronounced, but her eyes still blazed with a ferocious vitality that he had yet to encounter on another soul.

“Never change, do you?” she asked smiling that lopsided smile that used to and still adored, “I can still read you like a book, Zest.”

The ease in her voice finally helped Zest to relax. He could read her too, and she knew it. He nearly let hope overtake him, but the portrait on the wall stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks. It was a beautiful picture with Signum flashing a rare but beautiful smile with arms wrapped lovingly around the blond cop. Zest gulped as the reality smashed his hopes. He had her heart and soul at one time but had pissed it away. The twenty years of guilt resumed their place on the old man’s brow. He wanted to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but how could he? He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, yet she had taken him into her home as if he were an old friend.

“So, how is…she?”

“My, aren’t we civil,” Signum teased with a chuckle, “Fate’s fine. She’s getting close to retirement, so they've moved her into more of a desk jockey position. Her rank is the same, but she works regular hours now and gets paid more. You won’t hear me complain about it.”

“I thought she moved to Raleigh to be the captain of the force-“ Zest stopped his question when he saw an unmistakable flash of anger and sadness appear on Signum’s face, “I’m sorry. You don’t-“

“No, it’s alright,” she said, “You’d think that after all these years that I would have gotten over the bitterness. Amazing how it all comes back. She was the Captain of the Raleigh Police Department for a few years till one of her idiot sergeants didn’t think that a woman should be in charge of him and started writing the newspaper about how fire was going to fall from heaven on our quaint town because of the gay sheriff. We had people protesting at the station with ‘God Hates Fags’ signs, and anyone who she pulled over for speeding would appeal the ticket, because Fate was ‘targeting the righteous people’. It never bothered Fate when they wrote lie after lie in the paper about her, but it bothered me. Things finally came to a head when one night we had burning crosses in our front yard, and a few of the neighbor kids smashed our windows with bottles of urine and lighter fluid. Fate shot one of them before he could toss the torch he was carrying.”

“Signum...” Zest held Signum’s hand as it trembled while she retold the story.

“She was suspended with pay as an independent group from Virginia investigated, and of course they ruled that Fate acted in self-defense, but the town was in an uproar. We took the first offer out of there, which was here. Quiet town for the most part with the exception of a meth kitchen exploding every now and then, but Fate and I aren’t as open and out as we were in Raleigh. We save our affection for home, attend different churches on Sunday morning, and try to look like roommates to the town. I’m sure all the town knows about our relationship, but at least they treat it as a ‘don’t ask; don’t tell’ style of arrangement.”

“Are you happy with that?”

“No,” sighed Signum honestly, “but I’m happy with Fate, and we love the mountains. I guess the trade off is living like this. I just wish that Mom didn’t have to take him awa-”

Signum gasped and broke off her sentence.

“Who’s him?” asked Zest as his hand gripped hers. Signum calmed herself, “What do you remember about that night?”

Zest paled. He didn’t need her to clarify which night. He knew. With a deep gulp, he answered honestly, “Not much. I remember being angry. Some pain, and then being elated. After that, I woke up on the floor.” His pulse quickened as he heaved in breath after breath. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, “I’ve been meaning to tell you that for years! Forgive me.”

A warm hand covered his, “I’ve forgiven you long ago.”

The old man who didn’t flinch when a rusted trap nearly severed his foot a few years back, now could not dam his tears. They flowed freely down his freshly shaved cheeks.

“Do you know why you ended up on the floor that night?” asked Signum softly.

Zest shook his head.

“Because I knocked you out,” explained Signum. Zest stared at her with a perplexed look, “Yes, you got a few good jabs in, but I was always able to contain you for the most part.”

“Then, why?” asked Zest, unable to hold off the question any longer, “Why did you leave me?”

“Just because I could contain you doesn’t mean that I would call it a stable relationship, and, baby, you know more than I do that you weren’t stopping anytime soon.”

Zest laid his head down on the table. She spoke the truth in love.

“Fate had a job lined up and was moving away, and by that time she was holding me up emotionally-“ she stopped herself before saying like you used to, but Zest still caught the implication and the hurt of the true though unspoken phrase. “But that morning,” Signum continued, “I felt sick. At first, I thought I was catching something, but I only felt nauseous in the mornings. Fate came by that morning with an EPT and, lo and behold, the stick turned blue.”

“You never told me…” wheezed Zest.

“I never intended to,” shrugged Signum, “I didn’t want you to hurt him physically or emotionally when disappeared into your bottle, but it doesn’t make much difference now since he was taken away after those punks nearly blew up our house in Raleigh.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” said Signum sadly, “Fate’s mother bought a lawyer from the city, and Child Services took him. Fate and I fought the ruling at first. Hell, I was half tempted to call you, but in the end it didn’t matter.”

An idea popped into Zest’s head and a small smile broke out on his face.

“What?” asked Signum.

“Nothing.”

Zest pulled back his hand from Signum’s and pushed his chair back. He stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“Where are you going?” asked Signum.

“You said Fate works regular hours, right?” he replied pointing at the grandfather clock standing against the wall.

“Shit, you’re right!” gasped Signum, “It’s after five!”

“Any decent hotels around?” asked Zest as Signum cleaned up the two glasses on the table.

“Yes, there’s a Holiday Inn a few blocks from the diner,” smiled Signum, “Come back tomorrow for dinner, and I’ll formally introduce you to Fate.” The pink-haired Signum escorted Zest to the front door. Zest was already fumbling with the crumpled up piece of paper in his pocket. There was a phone number on it that he was desperate to call.

The screen door creaked open, and Zest stepped out into the late afternoon light. “Good seeing you again, Signum,” said Zest as the porch squeaked under his heavy boots. He turned to face her and saw the softness return to her face. His instincts from decades before took over, and he reached his hand toward her head and brushed a strand of pink hair behind her ear. Signum blushed at the action and touched his rough, calloused hand with her own.

“Get away from her! Signum, run! I’ll get him!”

Zest froze in terror at the threatening tone of the voice, and his hand slipped from her ear to the side of her neck.

“Fate! No! It’s not-“

The sharp report of a 9mm rang out in the quiet town on a street where nothing happens. Zest felt a searing pain through his chest and shoulders, and the world around him went silent. He fell backward but felt no pain. His vision grew dim, but he saw pink hair and tears falling from her eyes. Her blood-covered arms laid his head on her lap as his life flowed from him. Her tears mixed with his blood on a porch in Cajah’s Mountain.

Peace on Earth; goodwill toward men.

[Laith]

Originally Posted by Allquall

This is very different from what I usually do. For those who think milk is too sweet and dark is too bitter, here's a little semi-sweet story.

Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part one

Spoiler for Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part two (End):

Zest struggled as he leaned back to pull the oars. Another cold wave crashed on top of him and his tiny vessel as he rowed toward the small lights from the shore. Thinking about her had been too much for him. He never got to say that he was sorry for what happened. He never got to plead for forgiveness. He just came home one night to an empty house, divorce papers, and a restraining order. A large swell rocked the rowboat, and Zest felt a large sliver of wood from the oar pop a stitch in his hand, but he held onto the handles lest he lose them to the angry Atlantic. He crested the wave and caught a glimpse of the twinkling lights on the shore. Riding the large wave down, he thought about that day again. He never got to say goodbye.

It had been a few decades since he called for her all through the house. The echoes from the empty rooms made the situation real for him, and the stack of legal documents on the dining room table confirmed his worst suspicions. Although he had guessed long before that she would leave, his imagination did not prepare him for the empty house. He stood in front of the pile of papers as his eyes struggled to focus on the tiny lines of legalese on the document. After for what may have been minutes or hours, Zest shuffled his weary feet to the familiar ledge next to his boots and pulled out the glass bottle of clear liquid. He started to reach for the small glass on the edge of the bar but reached instead for the bottle itself. A few deep gulps later of Griffith’s dad’s moonshine, Zest finally dulled the pain of a Signumless house.

The older man’s reflections came to an abrupt end when a swell near the coast finally succeeded in overturning the tiny rowboat, yet the hard rain and the open sea did little to distress the old fisherman. He timed his strokes with the waves and steadily swam to shore. When his feet finally felt the soft sinking of coastal sand, Zest plodded through the waves and collapsed onto the shore though the storm still raged above him. He slept soundly amid the damp reeds and littered cans of Natural Light.

-- -- --

He pushed himself up off of the sand as the sound of the rolling sea and screeching gulls filled his ears. Every muscle in his body cried out in pain while he coughed and rolled himself up to stand. His old back cracked as he straightened himself, and he coughed and spat into the sand before walking up the beach and into the grass. If he wasn’t mistaken, there would be a road five hundred yards ahead, and the man’s old instincts served him well.

His clothes irritated him as the saltwater evaporated and left him with a sticky film on his skin. However, Zest tried to distract his irritation as his feet scuffed against the asphalt of the two-lane beach road. The placement of the morning sun told him that he was traveling south and that the day would be a rare Maine scorcher.

“Just my luck,” he mumbled to himself, “I get like this on the only good fishing day of the year.”

Passing cars provided him with a relieving breeze every once in a while, which was a small comfort since their drivers ignored Zest’s extended thumb. He walked along the lonely highway for hours, and his feet ached at the exercise. However, the long blast of a horn from a passing semi took his mind off of his pain-filled body. The eighteen wheels of the big rig roared ahead of him and then slowed and stopped about a few hundred yards ahead.

Zest quickened his step as the driver’s door opened, and a young man climbed out of the rig.

“Hey, old-timer!” the man with short cropped hair yelled, “Need a lift?”

Zest let a smile grow across his face and nodded. He climbed up the passenger side while the younger man swept the random fast food wrappers and nudie magazines into the sleeper.

“All right, buckle up, old man,” the young man said merrily while the gears on the rig clunked into place as he shifted them, “Where ya headed?”

“Cajah’s Mountain, North Carolina,” the old man said gruffly.

“Never heard of it,” the young man said honestly, “What’s it near?”

“A little southwest of Winston-Salem.”

“Hmmm…I might be able to take you there, old timer,” the young trucker chuckled adjusting his Georgia Bulldogs baseball cap, “I’m on my way to Savannah. Got a few stops to make, so it ain’t gonna be a straight shot run, but I should be able to drop you off near there in a few days.”

Zest was truly touched by the young man’s generosity, “You may have to wait a few weeks for me to be able to pay you back for this. I don’t have a lot of cash on me.”

The young man laughed loudly as the old Mack truck increased its speed with every click of the gears. “Don’t worry about that!” he grinned, “Just keep me awake. I’m on the backside of an East Coast run, and No Doz can only get me so far.”

“I really appreciate this Mr.…uh…” Zest grumbled.

“I’m a trucker not a Mister,” the young man smiled.

“What’s your name then?”

The younger man pointed to the stack of porno mags, cigarette butts, and liters of moonshine on the top cot of the sleeper. “My handle on the road is ‘Vice’,” he said with a proud grin, “What can I call you, grandpa?”

“Zest.”

“Too bad you ain’t living up to it,”

-- -- --

Vice stopped at the first truck stop on the highway. As the tanks inhaled thousands of dollars worth of diesel, Zest and Vice got change for a dollar and spent the quarters at the trucker showers. The floor had a weird green mold growing on it, and the water was a little warmer than an ice cube, but Zest finally felt clean. He had thrown away his flannel shirt and jeans that he had worn on the boat and settled for a pair of Carhartt dungarees and a denim work shirt that he found cheap at the Ace Hardware Store across the street. Finally, with their bellies full of meatloaf and apple pie, the two men wandered back to the old rig.

“Go ahead a take a few hours in the sleeper, Zest,” Vice said while sipping his coffee, “I’ve got a good four hours till I have to pull off.”

Zest would have politely declined the offer if his eyes weren’t already heavy. He climbed up the side door of the sleeper and crawled through old issues of JUGS and Barely Legal and collapsed on the cot that stank of spilled whiskey and cheap tobacco.

“I bet that you hide this shit from your parents when you visit, eh?” teased Zest as he turned onto his side.

“Ain’t got ‘em, so I don’t have to,” replied the young man.

“Sorry about their passing, kid.”

“I don’t think that they’re dead,” said Vice while he shifted the lower gear into position, “My dad ran out on my mom before I was born, and then my grandma won custody over me when I was around a year old. We moved to Valdosta to live, and I started trucking as soon as I could drop out of high school.”

“That’s a bum deal, Vice,” mumbled Zest.

“I used to think so too, and it made me pretty angry when I was a kid,” said Vice adjusting the mirrors, “but I ain't mad anymore. My folks probably had their reasons for doing what they did. I would like to ask them ‘why’ if the opportunity ever came up, but that would be a miracle shot.”

Zest grumbled something incomprehensible as his eyes shut.

“Get some rest, old man.”

-- -- --

Oddly, it was the silence that woke Zest from his deep sleep. The truck was completely still with the exception of the occasional shake caused by the passing cars and trucks.

“Vice?” Zest called into the darkness while cracking his back.

He didn’t have a watch, but he could tell that it was very late into the evening. He popped the sleeper door open and could hear Vice’s distinctive laugh. Zest looked around and could see the young trucker talking to another person in a nearly empty parking lot. After his feet scraped against the asphalt, he limped over to where the other two men were.

“Hey pops!” waved Vice.

“Who’s this?” the other man asked.

“He’s cool,” answered Vice as he flicked his cigarette lighter, “I picked him up south of Portland. Looks like he’s thumbing it to North Carolina.”

The other man nodded to Zest but without bothering to smile. Vice held out his lighter in front of his face while drawing a deep breath. He held his breath and passed whatever he was holding to the other trucker who also inhaled deeply.

“Want a toke, pops?” asked Vice with a thin stream of smoke coming from his mouth and nostrils.

“Nah,” answered Zest, “I’m too old for that shit, but don’t tell me you’re going to drive now.”

Vice shook his head and yawned, “It helps me sleep. I could sleep through the Apocalypse on this stuff. By the way, Jail, this is Zest. Zest, this is Jail.”

“Funny name,” remarked Zest.

“Got it from being there a few times,” said Jail slyly.

“So where the hell are we?” asked Zest trying to change the subject.

“Southbound I-95, right outside of Philly,” said Vice taking another toke, “I’ve gotta put in another ten hours easy if I’m going to make it to Richmond, but that ain’t happenin’ tonight.”

Zest chuckled at Vice’s goofy smile as the herb took its effect on the young man, and Vice laughed stupidly as his body relaxed against the front of the Volvo insignia on the grill of Jail’s rig. The older man waved and then put his hands in his pockets while walking toward the rest area bathroom facilities as the orange streetlight flickered and hissed above him. He shook his head as he pushed opened the door of the dank men’s restroom. Someone had vomited on the seat of the first stall, and its stench lingered. Zest shuddered as he entered into the middle stall and obeyed the call of nature.

As he sat in the silent bathroom that reeked of piss and puke, the old man let his mind think about the young man getting stoned in the parking lot. What sort of parents would leave a boy like that to fend for himself?

“If he were my son…” Zest started to mutter before stopping himself.

What kind of father would he be? Would he have changed at all if Signum hadn’t walked out? Zest rested his elbows on his naked knees as he contemplated this question, but his mind wandered farther than he would have liked. ‘What if she has a son now?’ he thought, “That blond cop of hers was stationed in Raleigh for years. Maybe they adopted.” The ‘what-might-have-beens’ gripped Zest as he sat alone.

When he finished, Zest yawned and walked slowly to the rumbling engine of the old Mack truck. He climbed the side of the sleeper and popped the door open wide enough to hear Vice’s snores. Zest gruffly smirked and moved to open the passenger door. The old air-conditioner hummed while Zest leaned his seat back and let his eyes close once again.

The morning sun woke them up, and Vice stretched and yawned, “Ya ready to earn your keep, pops?” Zest nodded. The young trucker popped the clutch, and the semi slowly started moving forward, “I’ve got a delivery in Richmond that I need to make before nightfall in shitty rush hour traffic.”

“You feeling all right?” Zest grumbled.

“Better than last night,” replied Vice as he wiped brow under his hat.

Zest shook his head in amazement at the young man’s resiliency, “You need to take care of yourself.”

“So what about you?” smiled Vice though he was obviously changing the subject, “What makes a man climb into a rig in Maine to go to a town in North Carolina in the middle of nowhere?”

Zest leaned back against the seat. He had expected this question but didn’t realize the effort that it would take to answer it. “I guess it’s the same reason why any man does something stupid.”

“Women problems at your age, pops?”

Zest nodded as he stretched his legs and chuckled, “Can’t get away from 'em.”

“So, is this your second family, girlfriend-“

“Ex-wife.”

“Eww, why would you want to go see that?”

“Not sure,” said Zest quietly, “but I need to see her. Got to talk with her.” Zest’s eyes glazed over as he let the image of Signum dance in his head.

Vice took a quick peek over at his passenger before turning his attention to the merging traffic. “Zest, you sure that she wants to see you?”

“I don’t know,” replied Zest while looking at the floor and the empty KFC cups, “It’s been a few years, and I don’t like how things ended.”

“Did your kids tell you it was safe to go back or something?”

“We didn’t have children,” said Zest gruffly, “It never seemed like the right time to have them. Kinda regret that now.”

“Don’t,” said Vice with a determined look in his eye, “If you couldn’t care for them, then you shouldn’t have had them. Better no kids, then letting them grow up in hell.”

“Sorry, kid,” said Zest, “but you had your grandmother there to raise you, right?”

“G’ma will always be there for me,” said Vice sternly, “but I don’t have a lot of people waiting for me to come home, so I don’t go much. Sometimes, I wish that my dad would have passed out completely than messin’ with my mom that night.”

Zest let the conversation drop and the cab of the old Mack truck was once again silent though the occupants barely knew it due to their memories playing before them.

-- -- --

The Richmond stop took Vice longer than he expected. The military contractor that he dealt with had a new guy in receiving department who took twice as long with the paperwork than the last receiving supervisor. Zest took over the cot as Vice argued with the new guy about which form he got to keep.

“Yes! You take the yellow copy, and I have- NO! Yellow copy, dumbass!”

Zest listened to Vice’s muffled, frustrated cries through the thick walls of the cab. He chuckled to himself before letting his eyes close. Virginia. His heart pounded as he realized that he was very near those blue colored mountains hidden in fog and kudzu. The Appalachian hills looked so peaceful, almost like the feeling of a flat ocean on a warm sunny day. Those kinds of days where no one got anything done, but you were glad to be alive. Zest appreciated those kinds of days the most, but the last time he ever felt like that had been when Signum cradled him in her arms while he fell asleep on her lap after an afternoon picnic. Her arms were strong, and her face was stern most of the time, but in the first half of their marriage, Zest saw her soft side.

She had only cried twice in front of him. The first time was when their mangy watchdog, Zaffy, had been hit by a car after they had first moved in together, but the second time was tears of happiness when they both bit the bullet and exchanged vows at a small ceremony in the Methodist church at the end of the road. Why she even wanted a wedding, Zest could never figure out, and Signum would only say that she wanted to see him in a tie at least once in her life. He laughed at the memory yet held his breath as he remembered after. Her muscular arms embracing his chest leaving behind a cool trail of passionate sweat. The taste of her tongue flickered in his mind, and he mentally grasped wildly to regain it.

“Pops, you ok?”

Startled, Zest sat up and rubbed his eyes, “Sorry, lost myself for a moment there.”

Vice raised his eyebrows at him before slamming the driver’s side door closed and letting the engine turn. They drove a few more hours south until Vice parked the truck in the back lot of a public rest stop for his mandated eight hours of sleep. Vice collapsed onto the cot in the sleeper, and Zest leaned his seat back. If he wasn’t mistaken, only a few more hours of hard driving and he would be in Cajah’s Mountain. He had trouble sleeping after that.

-- -- --

“Hey, pops,” said Vice as he handed Zest an old beat up duffel bag, “take your time and clean up for her. I’ve got a razor and good smelling shit in the bag.”

Zest unzipped the bag and saw the toiletries carelessly heaped together at the bottom. Two thin, square packages got his eye, and he held one up for Vice.

“If you think you may need a rubber, take it. I ain’t using it,” smiled Vice, “Truck fucks seem to be out of style anymore. Sucks hard.”

Zest dropped the condom back into the bag and jumped out of the rig.

“Be sure to use all your quarters in the shower, ya cheapskate!” Vice yelled after him. Zest couldn’t help but smile. Something about that boy.

-- -- --

Cajah’s Mountain Welcomes You!

Zest read the sign again opened the rig door.

“Hey, Zest.” The older man looked over at the young trucker who had a large brown stain on his t-shirt from the barbecue sauce they had at lunch. Vice handed Zest a piece of paper with lines of undisciplined scribbling on it. “I’ve got a few days off after I hit Valdosta,” said the young man, “You’ve got my number now. Let me know how it goes. I’ve got another run up to Portland next week, so call if you need a ride back.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“Anytime, pops.”

The two men shook hands, and Zest leaped down to the grassy shoulder of the narrow highway. Vice blew the horn twice and waved before the old diesel engine rumbled away. Zest smiled as he turned his back to the road and walked toward the large green sign.

-- -- --

Finding Signum’s address was as easy as flipping through a phone book while eating cherry pie at the local diner.

“Wolkenritter, Signum - (568) 362-6642”

She had taken her maiden name to both his pride and despair. ‘Still as strong as ever,’ Zest thought. The waitress across the diner bar refilled his coffee, and Zest asked the tall redhead with a short temper how he could get to Brentwood Circle.

“How do you think you get there, idiot!” she shouted at him.

“Tia,” her coworker with purple hair shook her head, “It’s just a few blocks ahead, mister. We’re not that big of a town.”

Zest nodded with a word of thanks and left a tip on the counter before leaving the tiny diner. The walk ahead of him seemed slow due to his excitement, and, when he saw the small house with the manicured lawn, he could barely contain himself with the mixture of apprehension and elation. He would see her, and though his head knew that she was lost to him, his heart still hoped.

He stood in front of the porch steps for minutes as his hands trembled inside the pockets of his Carhartts. His hand instinctively moved to his breast pocket in search of a lighter and pack of smokes though he had quite smoking years ago. Old habits never die it seemed. His feet remained rooted to the ground while sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Do you come in peace?” said a voice from the side of the house.

All the muscles in Zest’s body tightened at the familiar voice. He turned slowly to see his ex-wife turning off the water and circling the green garden hose back onto the outside hook. “Well?”

“Peace,” he mumbled.

She snorted a lopsided smile at him before climbing the porch steps ahead of him. Zest took in the sight of the pink-haired woman’s curves and ached to touch them. The dark tan accentuated her best parts though the sun damage on her hands gave away her age. She was still the strong woman he had held before.

“Don’t worry,” Signum said holding the screen door open for him, “She’s at the office. Grab a seat by the table.”

The tiny house seemed so lived in and cozy that Zest felt as if he had arrived home after a long day at work. The very air smelled like her, her old squall jacket hung by the door, and there she was over a pot on the stove scooping out the freshly brewed tea with a ladle. “Sweetened or unsweetened?” she asked.

“Just some lemon,” he replied.

The full glass clunked against the wood dining table, and Signum sat across from him mixing in a generous helping of cane sugar into her iced tea. Zest had so much that he wanted to say, but all he could do was stare at her calm face. The crow’s feet on the side of her eyes had deepened in their separation, and the wrinkles by the sides of her mouth had become more pronounced, but her eyes still blazed with a ferocious vitality that he had yet to encounter on another soul.

“Never change, do you?” she asked smiling that lopsided smile that used to and still adored, “I can still read you like a book, Zest.”

The ease in her voice finally helped Zest to relax. He could read her too, and she knew it. He nearly let hope overtake him, but the portrait on the wall stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks. It was a beautiful picture with Signum flashing a rare but beautiful smile with arms wrapped lovingly around the blond cop. Zest gulped as the reality smashed his hopes. He had her heart and soul at one time but had pissed it away. The twenty years of guilt resumed their place on the old man’s brow. He wanted to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but how could he? He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, yet she had taken him into her home as if he were an old friend.

“So, how is…she?”

“My, aren’t we civil,” Signum teased with a chuckle, “Fate’s fine. She’s getting close to retirement, so they've moved her into more of a desk jockey position. Her rank is the same, but she works regular hours now and gets paid more. You won’t hear me complain about it.”

“I thought she moved to Raleigh to be the captain of the force-“ Zest stopped his question when he saw an unmistakable flash of anger and sadness appear on Signum’s face, “I’m sorry. You don’t-“

“No, it’s alright,” she said, “You’d think that after all these years that I would have gotten over the bitterness. Amazing how it all comes back. She was the Captain of the Raleigh Police Department for a few years till one of her idiot sergeants didn’t think that a woman should be in charge of him and started writing the newspaper about how fire was going to fall from heaven on our quaint town because of the gay sheriff. We had people protesting at the station with ‘God Hates Fags’ signs, and anyone who she pulled over for speeding would appeal the ticket, because Fate was ‘targeting the righteous people’. It never bothered Fate when they wrote lie after lie in the paper about her, but it bothered me. Things finally came to a head when one night we had burning crosses in our front yard, and a few of the neighbor kids smashed our windows with bottles of urine and lighter fluid. Fate shot one of them before he could toss the torch he was carrying.”

“Signum...” Zest held Signum’s hand as it trembled while she retold the story.

“She was suspended with pay as an independent group from Virginia investigated, and of course they ruled that Fate acted in self-defense, but the town was in an uproar. We took the first offer out of there, which was here. Quiet town for the most part with the exception of a meth kitchen exploding every now and then, but Fate and I aren’t as open and out as we were in Raleigh. We save our affection for home, attend different churches on Sunday morning, and try to look like roommates to the town. I’m sure all the town knows about our relationship, but at least they treat it as a ‘don’t ask; don’t tell’ style of arrangement.”

“Are you happy with that?”

“No,” sighed Signum honestly, “but I’m happy with Fate, and we love the mountains. I guess the trade off is living like this. I just wish that Mom didn’t have to take him awa-”

Signum gasped and broke off her sentence.

“Who’s him?” asked Zest as his hand gripped hers. Signum calmed herself, “What do you remember about that night?”

Zest paled. He didn’t need her to clarify which night. He knew. With a deep gulp, he answered honestly, “Not much. I remember being angry. Some pain, and then being elated. After that, I woke up on the floor.” His pulse quickened as he heaved in breath after breath. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, “I’ve been meaning to tell you that for years! Forgive me.”

A warm hand covered his, “I’ve forgiven you long ago.”

The old man who didn’t flinch when a rusted trap nearly severed his foot a few years back, now could not dam his tears. They flowed freely down his freshly shaved cheeks.

“Do you know why you ended up on the floor that night?” asked Signum softly.

Zest shook his head.

“Because I knocked you out,” explained Signum. Zest stared at her with a perplexed look, “Yes, you got a few good jabs in, but I was always able to contain you for the most part.”

“Then, why?” asked Zest, unable to hold off the question any longer, “Why did you leave me?”

“Just because I could contain you doesn’t mean that I would call it a stable relationship, and, baby, you know more than I do that you weren’t stopping anytime soon.”

Zest laid his head down on the table. She spoke the truth in love.

“Fate had a job lined up and was moving away, and by that time she was holding me up emotionally-“ she stopped herself before saying like you used to, but Zest still caught the implication and the hurt of the true though unspoken phrase. “But that morning,” Signum continued, “I felt sick. At first, I thought I was catching something, but I only felt nauseous in the mornings. Fate came by that morning with an EPT and, lo and behold, the stick turned blue.”

“You never told me…” wheezed Zest.

“I never intended to,” shrugged Signum, “I didn’t want you to hurt him physically or emotionally when disappeared into your bottle, but it doesn’t make much difference now since he was taken away after those punks nearly blew up our house in Raleigh.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” said Signum sadly, “Fate’s mother bought a lawyer from the city, and Child Services took him. Fate and I fought the ruling at first. Hell, I was half tempted to call you, but in the end it didn’t matter.”

An idea popped into Zest’s head and a small smile broke out on his face.

“What?” asked Signum.

“Nothing.”

Zest pulled back his hand from Signum’s and pushed his chair back. He stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“Where are you going?” asked Signum.

“You said Fate works regular hours, right?” he replied pointing at the grandfather clock standing against the wall.

“Shit, you’re right!” gasped Signum, “It’s after five!”

“Any decent hotels around?” asked Zest as Signum cleaned up the two glasses on the table.

“Yes, there’s a Holiday Inn a few blocks from the diner,” smiled Signum, “Come back tomorrow for dinner, and I’ll formally introduce you to Fate.” The pink-haired Signum escorted Zest to the front door. Zest was already fumbling with the crumpled up piece of paper in his pocket. There was a phone number on it that he was desperate to call.

The screen door creaked open, and Zest stepped out into the late afternoon light. “Good seeing you again, Signum,” said Zest as the porch squeaked under his heavy boots. He turned to face her and saw the softness return to her face. His instincts from decades before took over, and he reached his hand toward her head and brushed a strand of pink hair behind her ear. Signum blushed at the action and touched his rough, calloused hand with her own.

“Get away from her! Signum, run! I’ll get him!”

Zest froze in terror at the threatening tone of the voice, and his hand slipped from her ear to the side of her neck.

“Fate! No! It’s not-“

The sharp report of a 9mm rang out in the quiet town on a street where nothing happens. Zest felt a searing pain through his chest and shoulders, and the world around him went silent. He fell backward but felt no pain. His vision grew dim, but he saw pink hair and tears falling from her eyes. Her blood-covered arms laid his head on her lap as his life flowed from him. Her tears mixed with his blood on a porch in Cajah’s Mountain.

Peace on Earth; goodwill toward men.

...I tip my hat at your general direction, Allquall.

[Nya~n]

Originally Posted by Allquall

This is very different from what I usually do. For those who think milk is too sweet and dark is too bitter, here's a little semi-sweet story.

Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part one

Spoiler for Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part two (End):

Zest struggled as he leaned back to pull the oars. Another cold wave crashed on top of him and his tiny vessel as he rowed toward the small lights from the shore. Thinking about her had been too much for him. He never got to say that he was sorry for what happened. He never got to plead for forgiveness. He just came home one night to an empty house, divorce papers, and a restraining order. A large swell rocked the rowboat, and Zest felt a large sliver of wood from the oar pop a stitch in his hand, but he held onto the handles lest he lose them to the angry Atlantic. He crested the wave and caught a glimpse of the twinkling lights on the shore. Riding the large wave down, he thought about that day again. He never got to say goodbye.

It had been a few decades since he called for her all through the house. The echoes from the empty rooms made the situation real for him, and the stack of legal documents on the dining room table confirmed his worst suspicions. Although he had guessed long before that she would leave, his imagination did not prepare him for the empty house. He stood in front of the pile of papers as his eyes struggled to focus on the tiny lines of legalese on the document. After for what may have been minutes or hours, Zest shuffled his weary feet to the familiar ledge next to his boots and pulled out the glass bottle of clear liquid. He started to reach for the small glass on the edge of the bar but reached instead for the bottle itself. A few deep gulps later of Griffith’s dad’s moonshine, Zest finally dulled the pain of a Signumless house.

The older man’s reflections came to an abrupt end when a swell near the coast finally succeeded in overturning the tiny rowboat, yet the hard rain and the open sea did little to distress the old fisherman. He timed his strokes with the waves and steadily swam to shore. When his feet finally felt the soft sinking of coastal sand, Zest plodded through the waves and collapsed onto the shore though the storm still raged above him. He slept soundly amid the damp reeds and littered cans of Natural Light.

-- -- --

He pushed himself up off of the sand as the sound of the rolling sea and screeching gulls filled his ears. Every muscle in his body cried out in pain while he coughed and rolled himself up to stand. His old back cracked as he straightened himself, and he coughed and spat into the sand before walking up the beach and into the grass. If he wasn’t mistaken, there would be a road five hundred yards ahead, and the man’s old instincts served him well.

His clothes irritated him as the saltwater evaporated and left him with a sticky film on his skin. However, Zest tried to distract his irritation as his feet scuffed against the asphalt of the two-lane beach road. The placement of the morning sun told him that he was traveling south and that the day would be a rare Maine scorcher.

“Just my luck,” he mumbled to himself, “I get like this on the only good fishing day of the year.”

Passing cars provided him with a relieving breeze every once in a while, which was a small comfort since their drivers ignored Zest’s extended thumb. He walked along the lonely highway for hours, and his feet ached at the exercise. However, the long blast of a horn from a passing semi took his mind off of his pain-filled body. The eighteen wheels of the big rig roared ahead of him and then slowed and stopped about a few hundred yards ahead.

Zest quickened his step as the driver’s door opened, and a young man climbed out of the rig.

“Hey, old-timer!” the man with short cropped hair yelled, “Need a lift?”

Zest let a smile grow across his face and nodded. He climbed up the passenger side while the younger man swept the random fast food wrappers and nudie magazines into the sleeper.

“All right, buckle up, old man,” the young man said merrily while the gears on the rig clunked into place as he shifted them, “Where ya headed?”

“Cajah’s Mountain, North Carolina,” the old man said gruffly.

“Never heard of it,” the young man said honestly, “What’s it near?”

“A little southwest of Winston-Salem.”

“Hmmm…I might be able to take you there, old timer,” the young trucker chuckled adjusting his Georgia Bulldogs baseball cap, “I’m on my way to Savannah. Got a few stops to make, so it ain’t gonna be a straight shot run, but I should be able to drop you off near there in a few days.”

Zest was truly touched by the young man’s generosity, “You may have to wait a few weeks for me to be able to pay you back for this. I don’t have a lot of cash on me.”

The young man laughed loudly as the old Mack truck increased its speed with every click of the gears. “Don’t worry about that!” he grinned, “Just keep me awake. I’m on the backside of an East Coast run, and No Doz can only get me so far.”

“I really appreciate this Mr.…uh…” Zest grumbled.

“I’m a trucker not a Mister,” the young man smiled.

“What’s your name then?”

The younger man pointed to the stack of porno mags, cigarette butts, and liters of moonshine on the top cot of the sleeper. “My handle on the road is ‘Vice’,” he said with a proud grin, “What can I call you, grandpa?”

“Zest.”

“Too bad you ain’t living up to it,”

-- -- --

Vice stopped at the first truck stop on the highway. As the tanks inhaled thousands of dollars worth of diesel, Zest and Vice got change for a dollar and spent the quarters at the trucker showers. The floor had a weird green mold growing on it, and the water was a little warmer than an ice cube, but Zest finally felt clean. He had thrown away his flannel shirt and jeans that he had worn on the boat and settled for a pair of Carhartt dungarees and a denim work shirt that he found cheap at the Ace Hardware Store across the street. Finally, with their bellies full of meatloaf and apple pie, the two men wandered back to the old rig.

“Go ahead a take a few hours in the sleeper, Zest,” Vice said while sipping his coffee, “I’ve got a good four hours till I have to pull off.”

Zest would have politely declined the offer if his eyes weren’t already heavy. He climbed up the side door of the sleeper and crawled through old issues of JUGS and Barely Legal and collapsed on the cot that stank of spilled whiskey and cheap tobacco.

“I bet that you hide this shit from your parents when you visit, eh?” teased Zest as he turned onto his side.

“Ain’t got ‘em, so I don’t have to,” replied the young man.

“Sorry about their passing, kid.”

“I don’t think that they’re dead,” said Vice while he shifted the lower gear into position, “My dad ran out on my mom before I was born, and then my grandma won custody over me when I was around a year old. We moved to Valdosta to live, and I started trucking as soon as I could drop out of high school.”

“That’s a bum deal, Vice,” mumbled Zest.

“I used to think so too, and it made me pretty angry when I was a kid,” said Vice adjusting the mirrors, “but I ain't mad anymore. My folks probably had their reasons for doing what they did. I would like to ask them ‘why’ if the opportunity ever came up, but that would be a miracle shot.”

Zest grumbled something incomprehensible as his eyes shut.

“Get some rest, old man.”

-- -- --

Oddly, it was the silence that woke Zest from his deep sleep. The truck was completely still with the exception of the occasional shake caused by the passing cars and trucks.

“Vice?” Zest called into the darkness while cracking his back.

He didn’t have a watch, but he could tell that it was very late into the evening. He popped the sleeper door open and could hear Vice’s distinctive laugh. Zest looked around and could see the young trucker talking to another person in a nearly empty parking lot. After his feet scraped against the asphalt, he limped over to where the other two men were.

“Hey pops!” waved Vice.

“Who’s this?” the other man asked.

“He’s cool,” answered Vice as he flicked his cigarette lighter, “I picked him up south of Portland. Looks like he’s thumbing it to North Carolina.”

The other man nodded to Zest but without bothering to smile. Vice held out his lighter in front of his face while drawing a deep breath. He held his breath and passed whatever he was holding to the other trucker who also inhaled deeply.

“Want a toke, pops?” asked Vice with a thin stream of smoke coming from his mouth and nostrils.

“Nah,” answered Zest, “I’m too old for that shit, but don’t tell me you’re going to drive now.”

Vice shook his head and yawned, “It helps me sleep. I could sleep through the Apocalypse on this stuff. By the way, Jail, this is Zest. Zest, this is Jail.”

“Funny name,” remarked Zest.

“Got it from being there a few times,” said Jail slyly.

“So where the hell are we?” asked Zest trying to change the subject.

“Southbound I-95, right outside of Philly,” said Vice taking another toke, “I’ve gotta put in another ten hours easy if I’m going to make it to Richmond, but that ain’t happenin’ tonight.”

Zest chuckled at Vice’s goofy smile as the herb took its effect on the young man, and Vice laughed stupidly as his body relaxed against the front of the Volvo insignia on the grill of Jail’s rig. The older man waved and then put his hands in his pockets while walking toward the rest area bathroom facilities as the orange streetlight flickered and hissed above him. He shook his head as he pushed opened the door of the dank men’s restroom. Someone had vomited on the seat of the first stall, and its stench lingered. Zest shuddered as he entered into the middle stall and obeyed the call of nature.

As he sat in the silent bathroom that reeked of piss and puke, the old man let his mind think about the young man getting stoned in the parking lot. What sort of parents would leave a boy like that to fend for himself?

“If he were my son…” Zest started to mutter before stopping himself.

What kind of father would he be? Would he have changed at all if Signum hadn’t walked out? Zest rested his elbows on his naked knees as he contemplated this question, but his mind wandered farther than he would have liked. ‘What if she has a son now?’ he thought, “That blond cop of hers was stationed in Raleigh for years. Maybe they adopted.” The ‘what-might-have-beens’ gripped Zest as he sat alone.

When he finished, Zest yawned and walked slowly to the rumbling engine of the old Mack truck. He climbed the side of the sleeper and popped the door open wide enough to hear Vice’s snores. Zest gruffly smirked and moved to open the passenger door. The old air-conditioner hummed while Zest leaned his seat back and let his eyes close once again.

The morning sun woke them up, and Vice stretched and yawned, “Ya ready to earn your keep, pops?” Zest nodded. The young trucker popped the clutch, and the semi slowly started moving forward, “I’ve got a delivery in Richmond that I need to make before nightfall in shitty rush hour traffic.”

“You feeling all right?” Zest grumbled.

“Better than last night,” replied Vice as he wiped brow under his hat.

Zest shook his head in amazement at the young man’s resiliency, “You need to take care of yourself.”

“So what about you?” smiled Vice though he was obviously changing the subject, “What makes a man climb into a rig in Maine to go to a town in North Carolina in the middle of nowhere?”

Zest leaned back against the seat. He had expected this question but didn’t realize the effort that it would take to answer it. “I guess it’s the same reason why any man does something stupid.”

“Women problems at your age, pops?”

Zest nodded as he stretched his legs and chuckled, “Can’t get away from 'em.”

“So, is this your second family, girlfriend-“

“Ex-wife.”

“Eww, why would you want to go see that?”

“Not sure,” said Zest quietly, “but I need to see her. Got to talk with her.” Zest’s eyes glazed over as he let the image of Signum dance in his head.

Vice took a quick peek over at his passenger before turning his attention to the merging traffic. “Zest, you sure that she wants to see you?”

“I don’t know,” replied Zest while looking at the floor and the empty KFC cups, “It’s been a few years, and I don’t like how things ended.”

“Did your kids tell you it was safe to go back or something?”

“We didn’t have children,” said Zest gruffly, “It never seemed like the right time to have them. Kinda regret that now.”

“Don’t,” said Vice with a determined look in his eye, “If you couldn’t care for them, then you shouldn’t have had them. Better no kids, then letting them grow up in hell.”

“Sorry, kid,” said Zest, “but you had your grandmother there to raise you, right?”

“G’ma will always be there for me,” said Vice sternly, “but I don’t have a lot of people waiting for me to come home, so I don’t go much. Sometimes, I wish that my dad would have passed out completely than messin’ with my mom that night.”

Zest let the conversation drop and the cab of the old Mack truck was once again silent though the occupants barely knew it due to their memories playing before them.

-- -- --

The Richmond stop took Vice longer than he expected. The military contractor that he dealt with had a new guy in receiving department who took twice as long with the paperwork than the last receiving supervisor. Zest took over the cot as Vice argued with the new guy about which form he got to keep.

“Yes! You take the yellow copy, and I have- NO! Yellow copy, dumbass!”

Zest listened to Vice’s muffled, frustrated cries through the thick walls of the cab. He chuckled to himself before letting his eyes close. Virginia. His heart pounded as he realized that he was very near those blue colored mountains hidden in fog and kudzu. The Appalachian hills looked so peaceful, almost like the feeling of a flat ocean on a warm sunny day. Those kinds of days where no one got anything done, but you were glad to be alive. Zest appreciated those kinds of days the most, but the last time he ever felt like that had been when Signum cradled him in her arms while he fell asleep on her lap after an afternoon picnic. Her arms were strong, and her face was stern most of the time, but in the first half of their marriage, Zest saw her soft side.

She had only cried twice in front of him. The first time was when their mangy watchdog, Zaffy, had been hit by a car after they had first moved in together, but the second time was tears of happiness when they both bit the bullet and exchanged vows at a small ceremony in the Methodist church at the end of the road. Why she even wanted a wedding, Zest could never figure out, and Signum would only say that she wanted to see him in a tie at least once in her life. He laughed at the memory yet held his breath as he remembered after. Her muscular arms embracing his chest leaving behind a cool trail of passionate sweat. The taste of her tongue flickered in his mind, and he mentally grasped wildly to regain it.

“Pops, you ok?”

Startled, Zest sat up and rubbed his eyes, “Sorry, lost myself for a moment there.”

Vice raised his eyebrows at him before slamming the driver’s side door closed and letting the engine turn. They drove a few more hours south until Vice parked the truck in the back lot of a public rest stop for his mandated eight hours of sleep. Vice collapsed onto the cot in the sleeper, and Zest leaned his seat back. If he wasn’t mistaken, only a few more hours of hard driving and he would be in Cajah’s Mountain. He had trouble sleeping after that.

-- -- --

“Hey, pops,” said Vice as he handed Zest an old beat up duffel bag, “take your time and clean up for her. I’ve got a razor and good smelling shit in the bag.”

Zest unzipped the bag and saw the toiletries carelessly heaped together at the bottom. Two thin, square packages got his eye, and he held one up for Vice.

“If you think you may need a rubber, take it. I ain’t using it,” smiled Vice, “Truck fucks seem to be out of style anymore. Sucks hard.”

Zest dropped the condom back into the bag and jumped out of the rig.

“Be sure to use all your quarters in the shower, ya cheapskate!” Vice yelled after him. Zest couldn’t help but smile. Something about that boy.

-- -- --

Cajah’s Mountain Welcomes You!

Zest read the sign again opened the rig door.

“Hey, Zest.” The older man looked over at the young trucker who had a large brown stain on his t-shirt from the barbecue sauce they had at lunch. Vice handed Zest a piece of paper with lines of undisciplined scribbling on it. “I’ve got a few days off after I hit Valdosta,” said the young man, “You’ve got my number now. Let me know how it goes. I’ve got another run up to Portland next week, so call if you need a ride back.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“Anytime, pops.”

The two men shook hands, and Zest leaped down to the grassy shoulder of the narrow highway. Vice blew the horn twice and waved before the old diesel engine rumbled away. Zest smiled as he turned his back to the road and walked toward the large green sign.

-- -- --

Finding Signum’s address was as easy as flipping through a phone book while eating cherry pie at the local diner.

“Wolkenritter, Signum - (568) 362-6642”

She had taken her maiden name to both his pride and despair. ‘Still as strong as ever,’ Zest thought. The waitress across the diner bar refilled his coffee, and Zest asked the tall redhead with a short temper how he could get to Brentwood Circle.

“How do you think you get there, idiot!” she shouted at him.

“Tia,” her coworker with purple hair shook her head, “It’s just a few blocks ahead, mister. We’re not that big of a town.”

Zest nodded with a word of thanks and left a tip on the counter before leaving the tiny diner. The walk ahead of him seemed slow due to his excitement, and, when he saw the small house with the manicured lawn, he could barely contain himself with the mixture of apprehension and elation. He would see her, and though his head knew that she was lost to him, his heart still hoped.

He stood in front of the porch steps for minutes as his hands trembled inside the pockets of his Carhartts. His hand instinctively moved to his breast pocket in search of a lighter and pack of smokes though he had quite smoking years ago. Old habits never die it seemed. His feet remained rooted to the ground while sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Do you come in peace?” said a voice from the side of the house.

All the muscles in Zest’s body tightened at the familiar voice. He turned slowly to see his ex-wife turning off the water and circling the green garden hose back onto the outside hook. “Well?”

“Peace,” he mumbled.

She snorted a lopsided smile at him before climbing the porch steps ahead of him. Zest took in the sight of the pink-haired woman’s curves and ached to touch them. The dark tan accentuated her best parts though the sun damage on her hands gave away her age. She was still the strong woman he had held before.

“Don’t worry,” Signum said holding the screen door open for him, “She’s at the office. Grab a seat by the table.”

The tiny house seemed so lived in and cozy that Zest felt as if he had arrived home after a long day at work. The very air smelled like her, her old squall jacket hung by the door, and there she was over a pot on the stove scooping out the freshly brewed tea with a ladle. “Sweetened or unsweetened?” she asked.

“Just some lemon,” he replied.

The full glass clunked against the wood dining table, and Signum sat across from him mixing in a generous helping of cane sugar into her iced tea. Zest had so much that he wanted to say, but all he could do was stare at her calm face. The crow’s feet on the side of her eyes had deepened in their separation, and the wrinkles by the sides of her mouth had become more pronounced, but her eyes still blazed with a ferocious vitality that he had yet to encounter on another soul.

“Never change, do you?” she asked smiling that lopsided smile that used to and still adored, “I can still read you like a book, Zest.”

The ease in her voice finally helped Zest to relax. He could read her too, and she knew it. He nearly let hope overtake him, but the portrait on the wall stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks. It was a beautiful picture with Signum flashing a rare but beautiful smile with arms wrapped lovingly around the blond cop. Zest gulped as the reality smashed his hopes. He had her heart and soul at one time but had pissed it away. The twenty years of guilt resumed their place on the old man’s brow. He wanted to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but how could he? He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, yet she had taken him into her home as if he were an old friend.

“So, how is…she?”

“My, aren’t we civil,” Signum teased with a chuckle, “Fate’s fine. She’s getting close to retirement, so they've moved her into more of a desk jockey position. Her rank is the same, but she works regular hours now and gets paid more. You won’t hear me complain about it.”

“I thought she moved to Raleigh to be the captain of the force-“ Zest stopped his question when he saw an unmistakable flash of anger and sadness appear on Signum’s face, “I’m sorry. You don’t-“

“No, it’s alright,” she said, “You’d think that after all these years that I would have gotten over the bitterness. Amazing how it all comes back. She was the Captain of the Raleigh Police Department for a few years till one of her idiot sergeants didn’t think that a woman should be in charge of him and started writing the newspaper about how fire was going to fall from heaven on our quaint town because of the gay sheriff. We had people protesting at the station with ‘God Hates Fags’ signs, and anyone who she pulled over for speeding would appeal the ticket, because Fate was ‘targeting the righteous people’. It never bothered Fate when they wrote lie after lie in the paper about her, but it bothered me. Things finally came to a head when one night we had burning crosses in our front yard, and a few of the neighbor kids smashed our windows with bottles of urine and lighter fluid. Fate shot one of them before he could toss the torch he was carrying.”

“Signum...” Zest held Signum’s hand as it trembled while she retold the story.

“She was suspended with pay as an independent group from Virginia investigated, and of course they ruled that Fate acted in self-defense, but the town was in an uproar. We took the first offer out of there, which was here. Quiet town for the most part with the exception of a meth kitchen exploding every now and then, but Fate and I aren’t as open and out as we were in Raleigh. We save our affection for home, attend different churches on Sunday morning, and try to look like roommates to the town. I’m sure all the town knows about our relationship, but at least they treat it as a ‘don’t ask; don’t tell’ style of arrangement.”

“Are you happy with that?”

“No,” sighed Signum honestly, “but I’m happy with Fate, and we love the mountains. I guess the trade off is living like this. I just wish that Mom didn’t have to take him awa-”

Signum gasped and broke off her sentence.

“Who’s him?” asked Zest as his hand gripped hers. Signum calmed herself, “What do you remember about that night?”

Zest paled. He didn’t need her to clarify which night. He knew. With a deep gulp, he answered honestly, “Not much. I remember being angry. Some pain, and then being elated. After that, I woke up on the floor.” His pulse quickened as he heaved in breath after breath. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, “I’ve been meaning to tell you that for years! Forgive me.”

A warm hand covered his, “I’ve forgiven you long ago.”

The old man who didn’t flinch when a rusted trap nearly severed his foot a few years back, now could not dam his tears. They flowed freely down his freshly shaved cheeks.

“Do you know why you ended up on the floor that night?” asked Signum softly.

Zest shook his head.

“Because I knocked you out,” explained Signum. Zest stared at her with a perplexed look, “Yes, you got a few good jabs in, but I was always able to contain you for the most part.”

“Then, why?” asked Zest, unable to hold off the question any longer, “Why did you leave me?”

“Just because I could contain you doesn’t mean that I would call it a stable relationship, and, baby, you know more than I do that you weren’t stopping anytime soon.”

Zest laid his head down on the table. She spoke the truth in love.

“Fate had a job lined up and was moving away, and by that time she was holding me up emotionally-“ she stopped herself before saying like you used to, but Zest still caught the implication and the hurt of the true though unspoken phrase. “But that morning,” Signum continued, “I felt sick. At first, I thought I was catching something, but I only felt nauseous in the mornings. Fate came by that morning with an EPT and, lo and behold, the stick turned blue.”

“You never told me…” wheezed Zest.

“I never intended to,” shrugged Signum, “I didn’t want you to hurt him physically or emotionally when disappeared into your bottle, but it doesn’t make much difference now since he was taken away after those punks nearly blew up our house in Raleigh.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” said Signum sadly, “Fate’s mother bought a lawyer from the city, and Child Services took him. Fate and I fought the ruling at first. Hell, I was half tempted to call you, but in the end it didn’t matter.”

An idea popped into Zest’s head and a small smile broke out on his face.

“What?” asked Signum.

“Nothing.”

Zest pulled back his hand from Signum’s and pushed his chair back. He stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“Where are you going?” asked Signum.

“You said Fate works regular hours, right?” he replied pointing at the grandfather clock standing against the wall.

“Shit, you’re right!” gasped Signum, “It’s after five!”

“Any decent hotels around?” asked Zest as Signum cleaned up the two glasses on the table.

“Yes, there’s a Holiday Inn a few blocks from the diner,” smiled Signum, “Come back tomorrow for dinner, and I’ll formally introduce you to Fate.” The pink-haired Signum escorted Zest to the front door. Zest was already fumbling with the crumpled up piece of paper in his pocket. There was a phone number on it that he was desperate to call.

The screen door creaked open, and Zest stepped out into the late afternoon light. “Good seeing you again, Signum,” said Zest as the porch squeaked under his heavy boots. He turned to face her and saw the softness return to her face. His instincts from decades before took over, and he reached his hand toward her head and brushed a strand of pink hair behind her ear. Signum blushed at the action and touched his rough, calloused hand with her own.

“Get away from her! Signum, run! I’ll get him!”

Zest froze in terror at the threatening tone of the voice, and his hand slipped from her ear to the side of her neck.

“Fate! No! It’s not-“

The sharp report of a 9mm rang out in the quiet town on a street where nothing happens. Zest felt a searing pain through his chest and shoulders, and the world around him went silent. He fell backward but felt no pain. His vision grew dim, but he saw pink hair and tears falling from her eyes. Her blood-covered arms laid his head on her lap as his life flowed from him. Her tears mixed with his blood on a porch in Cajah’s Mountain.

Peace on Earth; goodwill toward men.

Shit hits the fan and...

ZEST!!!!!! noooooooo

[Evil Rick]

Render of the Pest (Alicia Testarrosa)

Spoiler for :

[Vie]

Originally Posted by Allquall

This is very different from what I usually do. For those who think milk is too sweet and dark is too bitter, here's a little semi-sweet story.

Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part one

Spoiler for Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part two (End):

cut

Holy ----.
I thought it was Shamal!

But the ending... Poor Zest. and Vice is so his son.

[Raging Heart]

Originally Posted by Satashi

Spoiler for Vampire!Fate pt. 1a (Nanoha):

Even though I had seen it before, Subaru's power still surprised me. Her glove, I had seen, had a direct IV going to her veins on her wrist. Tia's blood was injected into it, giving Subaru's right hand temporary power for a limit of five minutes. Me on the other hand...

I jumped to the side of one of the men and saw Subaru grab his arm, bending it behind his back and slapping the shoulder blade to make it pop out of socket. I heard a yelp and before I could even react, the fight had moved into an alleyway, away from the main street.

I walked backwards away from the three people, watching with wide eyes as Subaru continued her assault. She grabbed the other man, holstered him into the air, and slammed him down on the ground so hard I could swear it made hair-line cracks in the ground.

The first man apparently fixed his shoulder and made a dive at me, shoving my body against the wall. He moved his other hand and pulled a silver dagger from his cloak. My hands reacted on their own, twisting the ring on my finger and holding it to him face. A bright flash of multicolored lights burst forth, along with a weird sound.

The man dropped to the ground and started to shake, saliva dripping from his convulsing mouth. I swallowed thickly and looked back over at Subaru, who was doubled over. She was uppercutted swiftly and I gasped when a bit of blood fell from her cheek. "Subaru!"

"Che," the girl wiped her mouth and spat. Flexing her right hand, she moved forward again and grabbed the person, throwing them over her shoulder and into a garbage can upside down. "Nanoha, let's move before more come!"

"R-right!" I chased after the girl quickly, rounding a corner and running back onto the main street. "Fate-chan should be at my bakery!"

Subaru looked back over her shoulder. "I don't think we'll make it that far."

I groaned. "So much for taking the bus..."

"We'll have to get somewhere more populated." The blue haired girl looked at a slot in her glove. "I have about a minute left." I stumbled and coughed over myself, helped by Subaru so I wouldn't fall down. "you okay?"

I spat out a mix of salaiva and blood, shaking my head. "I'm... I'm going to faint." The running had taken it's toll on my weak body and I could feel my heart pounding in my ears.

"Nanoha!" Subaru caught me as I collapsed and I looked up at her face as the world started to go black. The last thing I made out was something large hitting her over the head and her eyes rolling up before she collapsed on me.

good place to stop :3

A.)Nanoha
B.)Fate

I go for B

Lets see what Fate will do, please hurry up Satashi.

[markesellus]

Originally Posted by Allquall

This is very different from what I usually do. For those who think milk is too sweet and dark is too bitter, here's a little semi-sweet story.

Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part one

Spoiler for Ninety Hours to Cajah's Mountain-Part two (End):

Zest struggled as he leaned back to pull the oars. Another cold wave crashed on top of him and his tiny vessel as he rowed toward the small lights from the shore. Thinking about her had been too much for him. He never got to say that he was sorry for what happened. He never got to plead for forgiveness. He just came home one night to an empty house, divorce papers, and a restraining order. A large swell rocked the rowboat, and Zest felt a large sliver of wood from the oar pop a stitch in his hand, but he held onto the handles lest he lose them to the angry Atlantic. He crested the wave and caught a glimpse of the twinkling lights on the shore. Riding the large wave down, he thought about that day again. He never got to say goodbye.

It had been a few decades since he called for her all through the house. The echoes from the empty rooms made the situation real for him, and the stack of legal documents on the dining room table confirmed his worst suspicions. Although he had guessed long before that she would leave, his imagination did not prepare him for the empty house. He stood in front of the pile of papers as his eyes struggled to focus on the tiny lines of legalese on the document. After for what may have been minutes or hours, Zest shuffled his weary feet to the familiar ledge next to his boots and pulled out the glass bottle of clear liquid. He started to reach for the small glass on the edge of the bar but reached instead for the bottle itself. A few deep gulps later of Griffith’s dad’s moonshine, Zest finally dulled the pain of a Signumless house.

The older man’s reflections came to an abrupt end when a swell near the coast finally succeeded in overturning the tiny rowboat, yet the hard rain and the open sea did little to distress the old fisherman. He timed his strokes with the waves and steadily swam to shore. When his feet finally felt the soft sinking of coastal sand, Zest plodded through the waves and collapsed onto the shore though the storm still raged above him. He slept soundly amid the damp reeds and littered cans of Natural Light.

-- -- --

He pushed himself up off of the sand as the sound of the rolling sea and screeching gulls filled his ears. Every muscle in his body cried out in pain while he coughed and rolled himself up to stand. His old back cracked as he straightened himself, and he coughed and spat into the sand before walking up the beach and into the grass. If he wasn’t mistaken, there would be a road five hundred yards ahead, and the man’s old instincts served him well.

His clothes irritated him as the saltwater evaporated and left him with a sticky film on his skin. However, Zest tried to distract his irritation as his feet scuffed against the asphalt of the two-lane beach road. The placement of the morning sun told him that he was traveling south and that the day would be a rare Maine scorcher.

“Just my luck,” he mumbled to himself, “I get like this on the only good fishing day of the year.”

Passing cars provided him with a relieving breeze every once in a while, which was a small comfort since their drivers ignored Zest’s extended thumb. He walked along the lonely highway for hours, and his feet ached at the exercise. However, the long blast of a horn from a passing semi took his mind off of his pain-filled body. The eighteen wheels of the big rig roared ahead of him and then slowed and stopped about a few hundred yards ahead.

Zest quickened his step as the driver’s door opened, and a young man climbed out of the rig.

“Hey, old-timer!” the man with short cropped hair yelled, “Need a lift?”

Zest let a smile grow across his face and nodded. He climbed up the passenger side while the younger man swept the random fast food wrappers and nudie magazines into the sleeper.

“All right, buckle up, old man,” the young man said merrily while the gears on the rig clunked into place as he shifted them, “Where ya headed?”

“Cajah’s Mountain, North Carolina,” the old man said gruffly.

“Never heard of it,” the young man said honestly, “What’s it near?”

“A little southwest of Winston-Salem.”

“Hmmm…I might be able to take you there, old timer,” the young trucker chuckled adjusting his Georgia Bulldogs baseball cap, “I’m on my way to Savannah. Got a few stops to make, so it ain’t gonna be a straight shot run, but I should be able to drop you off near there in a few days.”

Zest was truly touched by the young man’s generosity, “You may have to wait a few weeks for me to be able to pay you back for this. I don’t have a lot of cash on me.”

The young man laughed loudly as the old Mack truck increased its speed with every click of the gears. “Don’t worry about that!” he grinned, “Just keep me awake. I’m on the backside of an East Coast run, and No Doz can only get me so far.”

“I really appreciate this Mr.…uh…” Zest grumbled.

“I’m a trucker not a Mister,” the young man smiled.

“What’s your name then?”

The younger man pointed to the stack of porno mags, cigarette butts, and liters of moonshine on the top cot of the sleeper. “My handle on the road is ‘Vice’,” he said with a proud grin, “What can I call you, grandpa?”

“Zest.”

“Too bad you ain’t living up to it,”

-- -- --

Vice stopped at the first truck stop on the highway. As the tanks inhaled thousands of dollars worth of diesel, Zest and Vice got change for a dollar and spent the quarters at the trucker showers. The floor had a weird green mold growing on it, and the water was a little warmer than an ice cube, but Zest finally felt clean. He had thrown away his flannel shirt and jeans that he had worn on the boat and settled for a pair of Carhartt dungarees and a denim work shirt that he found cheap at the Ace Hardware Store across the street. Finally, with their bellies full of meatloaf and apple pie, the two men wandered back to the old rig.

“Go ahead a take a few hours in the sleeper, Zest,” Vice said while sipping his coffee, “I’ve got a good four hours till I have to pull off.”

Zest would have politely declined the offer if his eyes weren’t already heavy. He climbed up the side door of the sleeper and crawled through old issues of JUGS and Barely Legal and collapsed on the cot that stank of spilled whiskey and cheap tobacco.

“I bet that you hide this shit from your parents when you visit, eh?” teased Zest as he turned onto his side.

“Ain’t got ‘em, so I don’t have to,” replied the young man.

“Sorry about their passing, kid.”

“I don’t think that they’re dead,” said Vice while he shifted the lower gear into position, “My dad ran out on my mom before I was born, and then my grandma won custody over me when I was around a year old. We moved to Valdosta to live, and I started trucking as soon as I could drop out of high school.”

“That’s a bum deal, Vice,” mumbled Zest.

“I used to think so too, and it made me pretty angry when I was a kid,” said Vice adjusting the mirrors, “but I ain't mad anymore. My folks probably had their reasons for doing what they did. I would like to ask them ‘why’ if the opportunity ever came up, but that would be a miracle shot.”

Zest grumbled something incomprehensible as his eyes shut.

“Get some rest, old man.”

-- -- --

Oddly, it was the silence that woke Zest from his deep sleep. The truck was completely still with the exception of the occasional shake caused by the passing cars and trucks.

“Vice?” Zest called into the darkness while cracking his back.

He didn’t have a watch, but he could tell that it was very late into the evening. He popped the sleeper door open and could hear Vice’s distinctive laugh. Zest looked around and could see the young trucker talking to another person in a nearly empty parking lot. After his feet scraped against the asphalt, he limped over to where the other two men were.

“Hey pops!” waved Vice.

“Who’s this?” the other man asked.

“He’s cool,” answered Vice as he flicked his cigarette lighter, “I picked him up south of Portland. Looks like he’s thumbing it to North Carolina.”

The other man nodded to Zest but without bothering to smile. Vice held out his lighter in front of his face while drawing a deep breath. He held his breath and passed whatever he was holding to the other trucker who also inhaled deeply.

“Want a toke, pops?” asked Vice with a thin stream of smoke coming from his mouth and nostrils.

“Nah,” answered Zest, “I’m too old for that shit, but don’t tell me you’re going to drive now.”

Vice shook his head and yawned, “It helps me sleep. I could sleep through the Apocalypse on this stuff. By the way, Jail, this is Zest. Zest, this is Jail.”

“Funny name,” remarked Zest.

“Got it from being there a few times,” said Jail slyly.

“So where the hell are we?” asked Zest trying to change the subject.

“Southbound I-95, right outside of Philly,” said Vice taking another toke, “I’ve gotta put in another ten hours easy if I’m going to make it to Richmond, but that ain’t happenin’ tonight.”

Zest chuckled at Vice’s goofy smile as the herb took its effect on the young man, and Vice laughed stupidly as his body relaxed against the front of the Volvo insignia on the grill of Jail’s rig. The older man waved and then put his hands in his pockets while walking toward the rest area bathroom facilities as the orange streetlight flickered and hissed above him. He shook his head as he pushed opened the door of the dank men’s restroom. Someone had vomited on the seat of the first stall, and its stench lingered. Zest shuddered as he entered into the middle stall and obeyed the call of nature.

As he sat in the silent bathroom that reeked of piss and puke, the old man let his mind think about the young man getting stoned in the parking lot. What sort of parents would leave a boy like that to fend for himself?

“If he were my son…” Zest started to mutter before stopping himself.

What kind of father would he be? Would he have changed at all if Signum hadn’t walked out? Zest rested his elbows on his naked knees as he contemplated this question, but his mind wandered farther than he would have liked. ‘What if she has a son now?’ he thought, “That blond cop of hers was stationed in Raleigh for years. Maybe they adopted.” The ‘what-might-have-beens’ gripped Zest as he sat alone.

When he finished, Zest yawned and walked slowly to the rumbling engine of the old Mack truck. He climbed the side of the sleeper and popped the door open wide enough to hear Vice’s snores. Zest gruffly smirked and moved to open the passenger door. The old air-conditioner hummed while Zest leaned his seat back and let his eyes close once again.

The morning sun woke them up, and Vice stretched and yawned, “Ya ready to earn your keep, pops?” Zest nodded. The young trucker popped the clutch, and the semi slowly started moving forward, “I’ve got a delivery in Richmond that I need to make before nightfall in shitty rush hour traffic.”

“You feeling all right?” Zest grumbled.

“Better than last night,” replied Vice as he wiped brow under his hat.

Zest shook his head in amazement at the young man’s resiliency, “You need to take care of yourself.”

“So what about you?” smiled Vice though he was obviously changing the subject, “What makes a man climb into a rig in Maine to go to a town in North Carolina in the middle of nowhere?”

Zest leaned back against the seat. He had expected this question but didn’t realize the effort that it would take to answer it. “I guess it’s the same reason why any man does something stupid.”

“Women problems at your age, pops?”

Zest nodded as he stretched his legs and chuckled, “Can’t get away from 'em.”

“So, is this your second family, girlfriend-“

“Ex-wife.”

“Eww, why would you want to go see that?”

“Not sure,” said Zest quietly, “but I need to see her. Got to talk with her.” Zest’s eyes glazed over as he let the image of Signum dance in his head.

Vice took a quick peek over at his passenger before turning his attention to the merging traffic. “Zest, you sure that she wants to see you?”

“I don’t know,” replied Zest while looking at the floor and the empty KFC cups, “It’s been a few years, and I don’t like how things ended.”

“Did your kids tell you it was safe to go back or something?”

“We didn’t have children,” said Zest gruffly, “It never seemed like the right time to have them. Kinda regret that now.”

“Don’t,” said Vice with a determined look in his eye, “If you couldn’t care for them, then you shouldn’t have had them. Better no kids, then letting them grow up in hell.”

“Sorry, kid,” said Zest, “but you had your grandmother there to raise you, right?”

“G’ma will always be there for me,” said Vice sternly, “but I don’t have a lot of people waiting for me to come home, so I don’t go much. Sometimes, I wish that my dad would have passed out completely than messin’ with my mom that night.”

Zest let the conversation drop and the cab of the old Mack truck was once again silent though the occupants barely knew it due to their memories playing before them.

-- -- --

The Richmond stop took Vice longer than he expected. The military contractor that he dealt with had a new guy in receiving department who took twice as long with the paperwork than the last receiving supervisor. Zest took over the cot as Vice argued with the new guy about which form he got to keep.

“Yes! You take the yellow copy, and I have- NO! Yellow copy, dumbass!”

Zest listened to Vice’s muffled, frustrated cries through the thick walls of the cab. He chuckled to himself before letting his eyes close. Virginia. His heart pounded as he realized that he was very near those blue colored mountains hidden in fog and kudzu. The Appalachian hills looked so peaceful, almost like the feeling of a flat ocean on a warm sunny day. Those kinds of days where no one got anything done, but you were glad to be alive. Zest appreciated those kinds of days the most, but the last time he ever felt like that had been when Signum cradled him in her arms while he fell asleep on her lap after an afternoon picnic. Her arms were strong, and her face was stern most of the time, but in the first half of their marriage, Zest saw her soft side.

She had only cried twice in front of him. The first time was when their mangy watchdog, Zaffy, had been hit by a car after they had first moved in together, but the second time was tears of happiness when they both bit the bullet and exchanged vows at a small ceremony in the Methodist church at the end of the road. Why she even wanted a wedding, Zest could never figure out, and Signum would only say that she wanted to see him in a tie at least once in her life. He laughed at the memory yet held his breath as he remembered after. Her muscular arms embracing his chest leaving behind a cool trail of passionate sweat. The taste of her tongue flickered in his mind, and he mentally grasped wildly to regain it.

“Pops, you ok?”

Startled, Zest sat up and rubbed his eyes, “Sorry, lost myself for a moment there.”

Vice raised his eyebrows at him before slamming the driver’s side door closed and letting the engine turn. They drove a few more hours south until Vice parked the truck in the back lot of a public rest stop for his mandated eight hours of sleep. Vice collapsed onto the cot in the sleeper, and Zest leaned his seat back. If he wasn’t mistaken, only a few more hours of hard driving and he would be in Cajah’s Mountain. He had trouble sleeping after that.

-- -- --

“Hey, pops,” said Vice as he handed Zest an old beat up duffel bag, “take your time and clean up for her. I’ve got a razor and good smelling shit in the bag.”

Zest unzipped the bag and saw the toiletries carelessly heaped together at the bottom. Two thin, square packages got his eye, and he held one up for Vice.

“If you think you may need a rubber, take it. I ain’t using it,” smiled Vice, “Truck fucks seem to be out of style anymore. Sucks hard.”

Zest dropped the condom back into the bag and jumped out of the rig.

“Be sure to use all your quarters in the shower, ya cheapskate!” Vice yelled after him. Zest couldn’t help but smile. Something about that boy.

-- -- --

Cajah’s Mountain Welcomes You!

Zest read the sign again opened the rig door.

“Hey, Zest.” The older man looked over at the young trucker who had a large brown stain on his t-shirt from the barbecue sauce they had at lunch. Vice handed Zest a piece of paper with lines of undisciplined scribbling on it. “I’ve got a few days off after I hit Valdosta,” said the young man, “You’ve got my number now. Let me know how it goes. I’ve got another run up to Portland next week, so call if you need a ride back.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“Anytime, pops.”

The two men shook hands, and Zest leaped down to the grassy shoulder of the narrow highway. Vice blew the horn twice and waved before the old diesel engine rumbled away. Zest smiled as he turned his back to the road and walked toward the large green sign.

-- -- --

Finding Signum’s address was as easy as flipping through a phone book while eating cherry pie at the local diner.

“Wolkenritter, Signum - (568) 362-6642”

She had taken her maiden name to both his pride and despair. ‘Still as strong as ever,’ Zest thought. The waitress across the diner bar refilled his coffee, and Zest asked the tall redhead with a short temper how he could get to Brentwood Circle.

“How do you think you get there, idiot!” she shouted at him.

“Tia,” her coworker with purple hair shook her head, “It’s just a few blocks ahead, mister. We’re not that big of a town.”

Zest nodded with a word of thanks and left a tip on the counter before leaving the tiny diner. The walk ahead of him seemed slow due to his excitement, and, when he saw the small house with the manicured lawn, he could barely contain himself with the mixture of apprehension and elation. He would see her, and though his head knew that she was lost to him, his heart still hoped.

He stood in front of the porch steps for minutes as his hands trembled inside the pockets of his Carhartts. His hand instinctively moved to his breast pocket in search of a lighter and pack of smokes though he had quite smoking years ago. Old habits never die it seemed. His feet remained rooted to the ground while sweat dripped from his forehead.

“Do you come in peace?” said a voice from the side of the house.

All the muscles in Zest’s body tightened at the familiar voice. He turned slowly to see his ex-wife turning off the water and circling the green garden hose back onto the outside hook. “Well?”

“Peace,” he mumbled.

She snorted a lopsided smile at him before climbing the porch steps ahead of him. Zest took in the sight of the pink-haired woman’s curves and ached to touch them. The dark tan accentuated her best parts though the sun damage on her hands gave away her age. She was still the strong woman he had held before.

“Don’t worry,” Signum said holding the screen door open for him, “She’s at the office. Grab a seat by the table.”

The tiny house seemed so lived in and cozy that Zest felt as if he had arrived home after a long day at work. The very air smelled like her, her old squall jacket hung by the door, and there she was over a pot on the stove scooping out the freshly brewed tea with a ladle. “Sweetened or unsweetened?” she asked.

“Just some lemon,” he replied.

The full glass clunked against the wood dining table, and Signum sat across from him mixing in a generous helping of cane sugar into her iced tea. Zest had so much that he wanted to say, but all he could do was stare at her calm face. The crow’s feet on the side of her eyes had deepened in their separation, and the wrinkles by the sides of her mouth had become more pronounced, but her eyes still blazed with a ferocious vitality that he had yet to encounter on another soul.

“Never change, do you?” she asked smiling that lopsided smile that used to and still adored, “I can still read you like a book, Zest.”

The ease in her voice finally helped Zest to relax. He could read her too, and she knew it. He nearly let hope overtake him, but the portrait on the wall stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks. It was a beautiful picture with Signum flashing a rare but beautiful smile with arms wrapped lovingly around the blond cop. Zest gulped as the reality smashed his hopes. He had her heart and soul at one time but had pissed it away. The twenty years of guilt resumed their place on the old man’s brow. He wanted to apologize and beg for forgiveness, but how could he? He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, yet she had taken him into her home as if he were an old friend.

“So, how is…she?”

“My, aren’t we civil,” Signum teased with a chuckle, “Fate’s fine. She’s getting close to retirement, so they've moved her into more of a desk jockey position. Her rank is the same, but she works regular hours now and gets paid more. You won’t hear me complain about it.”

“I thought she moved to Raleigh to be the captain of the force-“ Zest stopped his question when he saw an unmistakable flash of anger and sadness appear on Signum’s face, “I’m sorry. You don’t-“

“No, it’s alright,” she said, “You’d think that after all these years that I would have gotten over the bitterness. Amazing how it all comes back. She was the Captain of the Raleigh Police Department for a few years till one of her idiot sergeants didn’t think that a woman should be in charge of him and started writing the newspaper about how fire was going to fall from heaven on our quaint town because of the gay sheriff. We had people protesting at the station with ‘God Hates Fags’ signs, and anyone who she pulled over for speeding would appeal the ticket, because Fate was ‘targeting the righteous people’. It never bothered Fate when they wrote lie after lie in the paper about her, but it bothered me. Things finally came to a head when one night we had burning crosses in our front yard, and a few of the neighbor kids smashed our windows with bottles of urine and lighter fluid. Fate shot one of them before he could toss the torch he was carrying.”

“Signum...” Zest held Signum’s hand as it trembled while she retold the story.

“She was suspended with pay as an independent group from Virginia investigated, and of course they ruled that Fate acted in self-defense, but the town was in an uproar. We took the first offer out of there, which was here. Quiet town for the most part with the exception of a meth kitchen exploding every now and then, but Fate and I aren’t as open and out as we were in Raleigh. We save our affection for home, attend different churches on Sunday morning, and try to look like roommates to the town. I’m sure all the town knows about our relationship, but at least they treat it as a ‘don’t ask; don’t tell’ style of arrangement.”

“Are you happy with that?”

“No,” sighed Signum honestly, “but I’m happy with Fate, and we love the mountains. I guess the trade off is living like this. I just wish that Mom didn’t have to take him awa-”

Signum gasped and broke off her sentence.

“Who’s him?” asked Zest as his hand gripped hers. Signum calmed herself, “What do you remember about that night?”

Zest paled. He didn’t need her to clarify which night. He knew. With a deep gulp, he answered honestly, “Not much. I remember being angry. Some pain, and then being elated. After that, I woke up on the floor.” His pulse quickened as he heaved in breath after breath. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried, “I’ve been meaning to tell you that for years! Forgive me.”

A warm hand covered his, “I’ve forgiven you long ago.”

The old man who didn’t flinch when a rusted trap nearly severed his foot a few years back, now could not dam his tears. They flowed freely down his freshly shaved cheeks.

“Do you know why you ended up on the floor that night?” asked Signum softly.

Zest shook his head.

“Because I knocked you out,” explained Signum. Zest stared at her with a perplexed look, “Yes, you got a few good jabs in, but I was always able to contain you for the most part.”

“Then, why?” asked Zest, unable to hold off the question any longer, “Why did you leave me?”

“Just because I could contain you doesn’t mean that I would call it a stable relationship, and, baby, you know more than I do that you weren’t stopping anytime soon.”

Zest laid his head down on the table. She spoke the truth in love.

“Fate had a job lined up and was moving away, and by that time she was holding me up emotionally-“ she stopped herself before saying like you used to, but Zest still caught the implication and the hurt of the true though unspoken phrase. “But that morning,” Signum continued, “I felt sick. At first, I thought I was catching something, but I only felt nauseous in the mornings. Fate came by that morning with an EPT and, lo and behold, the stick turned blue.”

“You never told me…” wheezed Zest.

“I never intended to,” shrugged Signum, “I didn’t want you to hurt him physically or emotionally when disappeared into your bottle, but it doesn’t make much difference now since he was taken away after those punks nearly blew up our house in Raleigh.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” said Signum sadly, “Fate’s mother bought a lawyer from the city, and Child Services took him. Fate and I fought the ruling at first. Hell, I was half tempted to call you, but in the end it didn’t matter.”

An idea popped into Zest’s head and a small smile broke out on his face.

“What?” asked Signum.

“Nothing.”

Zest pulled back his hand from Signum’s and pushed his chair back. He stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“Where are you going?” asked Signum.

“You said Fate works regular hours, right?” he replied pointing at the grandfather clock standing against the wall.

“Shit, you’re right!” gasped Signum, “It’s after five!”

“Any decent hotels around?” asked Zest as Signum cleaned up the two glasses on the table.

“Yes, there’s a Holiday Inn a few blocks from the diner,” smiled Signum, “Come back tomorrow for dinner, and I’ll formally introduce you to Fate.” The pink-haired Signum escorted Zest to the front door. Zest was already fumbling with the crumpled up piece of paper in his pocket. There was a phone number on it that he was desperate to call.

The screen door creaked open, and Zest stepped out into the late afternoon light. “Good seeing you again, Signum,” said Zest as the porch squeaked under his heavy boots. He turned to face her and saw the softness return to her face. His instincts from decades before took over, and he reached his hand toward her head and brushed a strand of pink hair behind her ear. Signum blushed at the action and touched his rough, calloused hand with her own.

“Get away from her! Signum, run! I’ll get him!”

Zest froze in terror at the threatening tone of the voice, and his hand slipped from her ear to the side of her neck.

“Fate! No! It’s not-“

The sharp report of a 9mm rang out in the quiet town on a street where nothing happens. Zest felt a searing pain through his chest and shoulders, and the world around him went silent. He fell backward but felt no pain. His vision grew dim, but he saw pink hair and tears falling from her eyes. Her blood-covered arms laid his head on her lap as his life flowed from him. Her tears mixed with his blood on a porch in Cajah’s Mountain.

Peace on Earth; goodwill toward men.

Damn I really thought it was Shamal. That was surprising. Zest! Nooo! That was pretty sad. Poor Vice, he actually met his dad, except never knew it was him. That fact annoys me to no end. Still a very good story.

[Evangelion Xgouki]

DIVIDED DESTINY
Two People, Two Paths

Spoiler for Divided Destiny, pt. 11:

"Hand me drive #4 from Standard Lab #03."

"Anyone found anymore of the Astronomy database?"

A groan escaped Fate's throat as she rubbed her eyes from her computer terminal. It had been just over two weeks since the evacuation of Eden. The Evacuation Transport were their home for several days as the convoy traversed the New Terra landscape. They had it easy compared to some of the workers and ConVec drivers who sped on ahead and probably drove non-stop to establish the outpost. By the time the rest of the colonists arrived, the core structures were online. A few cargo trucks were unloaded and diverted to start hauling raw ore from the new mine to the Smelter. Food stores were stable but building materials were lacking as food was made a priority during the evacuation. From what she had seen they had managed to load only two Residence kits onto ConVecs. That meant housing would be extremely limited and many would end up taking up refuge where they could, most of which was in the tubes connecting the structures. Typically this was against the law and enforced by the police, but given the situation they didn't have much of a choice. Supplies were distributed and food was rationed until they could establish a more stable colony.

"What's the status on the Chemistry Database?"

"We've managed to reconstruct about 78% so far."

"Make sure we get that completed Biology Database backed up. I doubt we want to have to rebuild it again."

All the scientists were kept busy since they arrived. Two simple labs were constructed for them to work out of. Right now their priority was to reconstruct the various databases they had managed to bring with them. In the panic and confusion of the evacuation data had become mixed up. Some managed to download parts of a database onto hard drives while others had put bits of different ones onto the drives. This meant they had to go through each hard drive and sort out the information. With some luck they hoped to get all the databases restored within the next week or two. It was tedious work, but it had to be done.

Some hours later the sun had set and plunged the colony into darkness. The lights of the structures illuminated the immediate area around them but it was much less compared to the original colony with the Light Towers scattered around to push back the darkness even farther from the colony. Looking out one of the lab's windows, Fate could make out a few moving specs of light. From what she had heard, the mine that had been established had a lower yield of ore than they had hoped, which meant they had to keep the Cargo Trucks working 24/7 to get the metals they needed. Thankfully the task could be automated from the Command Center though they had to drive slower at night due to the lack of lights along their path to and from the Smelter.

A glance around the lab showed many scientists had left to join their families for the evening. A few, like herself, remained behind. The lab was just as good a place as any right now to sleep and it wasn't as crowded as the tubes. Desks and equipment were pushed aside to give them more room to lay down the sleeping bags they had been provided. With the lights shut off, Fate laid down and closed her eyes. Hopefully sleep would come quickly to her tonight and spare her some relief from her worries and fears.

As morning came to the colonists of Eden, Fate yawned and stretched from her position on the lab floor.

A) Take a short break from the lab and walk around the small outpost
B) Take a short break from the lab and head over to the other lab
C) Change to Nanoha's PoV

Please post your choices BOLD and in DarkOrange

Previous Installments
-Intro
-Chapter 01
-Chapter 02
-Chapter 03
-Chapter 04
-Chapter 05
-Chapter 06
-Chapter 07
-Chapter 08
-Chapter 09
-Chapter 10

[Knight of L-sama]

Originally Posted by markesellus

Page Claim for the spinal cord (random I know)

... I must be crazy.

Spoiler for Quack!Fate pt 6:

Years passed since Nanoha had adopted Fate, and the older of the two deemed the younger was finally ready to learn the dark arts of torture.

"Are you watching, Fate-chan?"

"Mmhmm." Fate's eyes trailed away from the struggling random grunt that was the victim-of-the-day/practice-dummy and towards the door, behind which Arf would be waiting for her.

"Fate!" When Nanoha bent the grunt's middle finger back to impossible levels, forcing out a strangled scream from the grunt, Fate refixated her attention on the task at hand. Blue eyes stared hard into red ones. "Pay attention. You're getting older by the day; I don't want you to be taken advantage of by the other /lesser/ demons."

Fate withheld the urge to roll her eyes. She was well aware that Nanoha ruled this nest and so long as she was favored by Nanoha and everyone knew it, she was as good as set apart on a pedestal. "Yes, Nanoha."

"Good." Nanoha was aware that Fate wasn't as interested in the art of torture as she was, but it had to be taught for her to become a full-fledged demon in her own right. "Now, let's continue from the last lesson. Do you remember what I taught you about the many ways to incapacitate a being based on their spinal cord?"

Fate really wished she could be released to make flower crowns with Arf... "Damage to the spinal cord can disrupt registration of sensation to the brain, so complete damage to this part of the body is wholly undesired, until possibly after they've been killed. Rather, sharp, concentrated attention to key pressure points can maximize pain without quite killing the subject /because/ the spinal cord is the essential highway for nerves between the body and the brain. In other ways-"

"Enough." Fate looked up from her disinterested gaze at the back of the grunt with eyes that shimmered with hope. Was she being let loose early? Nanoha released the grunt between them, letting him fall onto the operation table. "You're clearly good at the theory. Let's see you do it in practice."

Fate flinched. "Do I have to?" It came out before she could stop herself.

Nanoha closed her eyes and pointed in the general direction of Arf. The tip of her finger glowed with her signature demonically horrid pinkness. "You have until the count to 10 to get him to confess his favorite color or else Arf gets it."

"Nanoh-"

"1!" Nanoha didn't even open her eyes, the pink sphere growing steadily.

Fate knew then that she was entirely serious. Feverishly, she thought about what the most effective way was, pressing the pressure point that she believed would cost the most pain (which would also pass the quickest). When she first demanded to know the answer to Nanoha's question, her voice squeaked, but she was better the second time around.

By the time the grunt was saying, "Kill me! Just kill me now!" Nanoha was on '8.'

Suddenly, Fate got an idea and leaned down and whispered something of a threat into his ear.

The results were instantaneous. "Green! My favorite color is neon green!"

"...9." Nanoha smirked, letting the pink light fade from her finger as she opened her eyes. Despite what she had just threatened to do to Arf, her smile was kind and reached her eyes. "Good girl."

Fate glared with something like a pout mixed with a frown. Her heart was still hammering in her chest. "You wouldn't have... have actually killed her, would you?"

"Never give your adversary the benefit a doubt. Those goddamned devil-haters have their own moments of double-crossing. They might say 'mercy' but act out 'euthanasia.'"

Fate looked down at the grunt, who was now breathing shallowly, and felt the energy leave her body. She didn't want to do this anymore.

"No devil started out as a devil, Fate-chan." Nanoha whistled and two guards came in and carried the grunt away. She walked around the table and placed her arm over Fate's shoulders. Fate was catching up to her in height. "Any truly powerful devil has someone or something they want to protect with everything they have. It is their one weakness, and yet their greatest source of strength. "

Fate was silent, staring at the floor as Nanoha led her out of the dark room.

Nanoha opened the doors for them, and Fate's eyes lit up when she saw Arf in child form playing with Lilith.

As Nanoha nudged Fate towards them, Nanoha's words haunted Fate to the depths of her soul.

"Demons become devils to protect what they love most."

"Fate!"

Fate ran up to Arf and dropped to her knees and hugged her tightly.

"Fate...?" Arf looked past Fate's shoulder and saw Nanoha walking away. "Fate... it's okay... it's okay..."

"If Nanoha became a white devil to protect someone pure, will I become a black devil to protect someone who's not?"

O.o Spooooky... I think I just made Quack!Fate serious. Egads.

Spoiler for The threat:

While making crowns of flowers together, Fate told Arf about her lesson of the day.

Arf nodded, expecting no less, and asked, "So what did you threaten him with that made him crack?"

"Nothing that bad... it's not torture to me at least, but I know these "hardcore demons" really hate it..."

"So what was it?"

"... I said when Nanoha wasn't watching I'd smuggle in tapes of Barney and the Teletubbies with "It's a small world" playing in the background... and make him watch it."

"..."

Okay, I feel better now.

[Vivio Testarossa]

Originally Posted by Evangelion Xgouki

DIVIDED DESTINY
Two People, Two Paths

Spoiler for Divided Destiny, pt. 11:

"Hand me drive #4 from Standard Lab #03."

"Anyone found anymore of the Astronomy database?"

A groan escaped Fate's throat as she rubbed her eyes from her computer terminal. It had been just over two weeks since the evacuation of Eden. The Evacuation Transport were their home for several days as the convoy traversed the New Terra landscape. They had it easy compared to some of the workers and ConVec drivers who sped on ahead and probably drove non-stop to establish the outpost. By the time the rest of the colonists arrived, the core structures were online. A few cargo trucks were unloaded and diverted to start hauling raw ore from the new mine to the Smelter. Food stores were stable but building materials were lacking as food was made a priority during the evacuation. From what she had seen they had managed to load only two Residence kits onto ConVecs. That meant housing would be extremely limited and many would end up taking up refuge where they could, most of which was in the tubes connecting the structures. Typically this was against the law and enforced by the police, but given the situation they didn't have much of a choice. Supplies were distributed and food was rationed until they could establish a more stable colony.

"What's the status on the Chemistry Database?"

"We've managed to reconstruct about 78% so far."

"Make sure we get that completed Biology Database backed up. I doubt we want to have to rebuild it again."

All the scientists were kept busy since they arrived. Two simple labs were constructed for them to work out of. Right now their priority was to reconstruct the various databases they had managed to bring with them. In the panic and confusion of the evacuation data had become mixed up. Some managed to download parts of a database onto hard drives while others had put bits of different ones onto the drives. This meant they had to go through each hard drive and sort out the information. With some luck they hoped to get all the databases restored within the next week or two. It was tedious work, but it had to be done.

Some hours later the sun had set and plunged the colony into darkness. The lights of the structures illuminated the immediate area around them but it was much less compared to the original colony with the Light Towers scattered around to push back the darkness even farther from the colony. Looking out one of the lab's windows, Fate could make out a few moving specs of light. From what she had heard, the mine that had been established had a lower yield of ore than they had hoped, which meant they had to keep the Cargo Trucks working 24/7 to get the metals they needed. Thankfully the task could be automated from the Command Center though they had to drive slower at night due to the lack of lights along their path to and from the Smelter.

A glance around the lab showed many scientists had left to join their families for the evening. A few, like herself, remained behind. The lab was just as good a place as any right now to sleep and it wasn't as crowded as the tubes. Desks and equipment were pushed aside to give them more room to lay down the sleeping bags they had been provided. With the lights shut off, Fate laid down and closed her eyes. Hopefully sleep would come quickly to her tonight and spare her some relief from her worries and fears.

As morning came to the colonists of Eden, Fate yawned and stretched from her position on the lab floor.

A) Take a short break from the lab and walk around the small outpost
B) Take a short break from the lab and head over to the other lab
C) Change to Nanoha's PoV

Please post your choices BOLD and in DarkOrange

Previous Installments
-Intro
-Chapter 01
-Chapter 02
-Chapter 03
-Chapter 04
-Chapter 05
-Chapter 06
-Chapter 07
-Chapter 08
-Chapter 09
-Chapter 10

A, is a fine choice?

[darkbluemint]

Originally Posted by Knight of L-sama

Spoiler for The threat:

While making crowns of flowers together, Fate told Arf about her lesson of the day.

Arf nodded, expecting no less, and asked, "So what did you threaten him with that made him crack?"

"Nothing that bad... it's not torture to me at least, but I know these "hardcore demons" really hate it..."

"So what was it?"

"... I said when Nanoha wasn't watching I'd smuggle in tapes of Barney and the Teletubbies with "It's a small world" playing in the background... and make him watch it."

"..."

Okay, I feel better now.

That's really, really scary... and cruel, terribly cruel...

Originally Posted by Evangelion Xgouki

DIVIDED DESTINY

Two People, Two Paths

Spoiler for Divided Destiny, pt. 11:

"Hand me drive #4 from Standard Lab #03."

"Anyone found anymore of the Astronomy database?"

A groan escaped Fate's throat as she rubbed her eyes from her computer terminal. It had been just over two weeks since the evacuation of Eden. The Evacuation Transport were their home for several days as the convoy traversed the New Terra landscape. They had it easy compared to some of the workers and ConVec drivers who sped on ahead and probably drove non-stop to establish the outpost. By the time the rest of the colonists arrived, the core structures were online. A few cargo trucks were unloaded and diverted to start hauling raw ore from the new mine to the Smelter. Food stores were stable but building materials were lacking as food was made a priority during the evacuation. From what she had seen they had managed to load only two Residence kits onto ConVecs. That meant housing would be extremely limited and many would end up taking up refuge where they could, most of which was in the tubes connecting the structures. Typically this was against the law and enforced by the police, but given the situation they didn't have much of a choice. Supplies were distributed and food was rationed until they could establish a more stable colony.

"What's the status on the Chemistry Database?"

"We've managed to reconstruct about 78% so far."

"Make sure we get that completed Biology Database backed up. I doubt we want to have to rebuild it again."

All the scientists were kept busy since they arrived. Two simple labs were constructed for them to work out of. Right now their priority was to reconstruct the various databases they had managed to bring with them. In the panic and confusion of the evacuation data had become mixed up. Some managed to download parts of a database onto hard drives while others had put bits of different ones onto the drives. This meant they had to go through each hard drive and sort out the information. With some luck they hoped to get all the databases restored within the next week or two. It was tedious work, but it had to be done.

Some hours later the sun had set and plunged the colony into darkness. The lights of the structures illuminated the immediate area around them but it was much less compared to the original colony with the Light Towers scattered around to push back the darkness even farther from the colony. Looking out one of the lab's windows, Fate could make out a few moving specs of light. From what she had heard, the mine that had been established had a lower yield of ore than they had hoped, which meant they had to keep the Cargo Trucks working 24/7 to get the metals they needed. Thankfully the task could be automated from the Command Center though they had to drive slower at night due to the lack of lights along their path to and from the Smelter.

A glance around the lab showed many scientists had left to join their families for the evening. A few, like herself, remained behind. The lab was just as good a place as any right now to sleep and it wasn't as crowded as the tubes. Desks and equipment were pushed aside to give them more room to lay down the sleeping bags they had been provided. With the lights shut off, Fate laid down and closed her eyes. Hopefully sleep would come quickly to her tonight and spare her some relief from her worries and fears.

As morning came to the colonists of Eden, Fate yawned and stretched from her position on the lab floor.

A) Take a short break from the lab and walk around the small outpost
B) Take a short break from the lab and head over to the other lab
C) Change to Nanoha's PoV

Please post your choices BOLD and in DarkOrange

Previous Installments
-Intro
-Chapter 01
-Chapter 02
-Chapter 03
-Chapter 04
-Chapter 05
-Chapter 06
-Chapter 07
-Chapter 08
-Chapter 09
-Chapter 10

Let's have Fate B a little curious... please and thank you.

[Master Kosa]

Originally Posted by Satashi

Spoiler for Vampire!Fate pt. 1a (Nanoha):

/snip/

good place to stop :3

A.)Nanoha
B.)Fate

I can't belive I've missed this! Now let's see what Fate has in store: B

Originally Posted by Knight of L-sama

... I must be crazy.

Spoiler for Quack!Fate pt 6:

/snip/

O.o Spooooky... I think I just made Quack!Fate serious. Egads.

I don't mind, I think it's better.

[Advent000]

Originally Posted by Evangelion Xgouki

DIVIDED DESTINY
Two People, Two Paths

Spoiler for Divided Destiny, pt. 11:

"Hand me drive #4 from Standard Lab #03."

"Anyone found anymore of the Astronomy database?"

A groan escaped Fate's throat as she rubbed her eyes from her computer terminal. It had been just over two weeks since the evacuation of Eden. The Evacuation Transport were their home for several days as the convoy traversed the New Terra landscape. They had it easy compared to some of the workers and ConVec drivers who sped on ahead and probably drove non-stop to establish the outpost. By the time the rest of the colonists arrived, the core structures were online. A few cargo trucks were unloaded and diverted to start hauling raw ore from the new mine to the Smelter. Food stores were stable but building materials were lacking as food was made a priority during the evacuation. From what she had seen they had managed to load only two Residence kits onto ConVecs. That meant housing would be extremely limited and many would end up taking up refuge where they could, most of which was in the tubes connecting the structures. Typically this was against the law and enforced by the police, but given the situation they didn't have much of a choice. Supplies were distributed and food was rationed until they could establish a more stable colony.

"What's the status on the Chemistry Database?"

"We've managed to reconstruct about 78% so far."

"Make sure we get that completed Biology Database backed up. I doubt we want to have to rebuild it again."

All the scientists were kept busy since they arrived. Two simple labs were constructed for them to work out of. Right now their priority was to reconstruct the various databases they had managed to bring with them. In the panic and confusion of the evacuation data had become mixed up. Some managed to download parts of a database onto hard drives while others had put bits of different ones onto the drives. This meant they had to go through each hard drive and sort out the information. With some luck they hoped to get all the databases restored within the next week or two. It was tedious work, but it had to be done.

Some hours later the sun had set and plunged the colony into darkness. The lights of the structures illuminated the immediate area around them but it was much less compared to the original colony with the Light Towers scattered around to push back the darkness even farther from the colony. Looking out one of the lab's windows, Fate could make out a few moving specs of light. From what she had heard, the mine that had been established had a lower yield of ore than they had hoped, which meant they had to keep the Cargo Trucks working 24/7 to get the metals they needed. Thankfully the task could be automated from the Command Center though they had to drive slower at night due to the lack of lights along their path to and from the Smelter.

A glance around the lab showed many scientists had left to join their families for the evening. A few, like herself, remained behind. The lab was just as good a place as any right now to sleep and it wasn't as crowded as the tubes. Desks and equipment were pushed aside to give them more room to lay down the sleeping bags they had been provided. With the lights shut off, Fate laid down and closed her eyes. Hopefully sleep would come quickly to her tonight and spare her some relief from her worries and fears.

As morning came to the colonists of Eden, Fate yawned and stretched from her position on the lab floor.

A) Take a short break from the lab and walk around the small outpost
B) Take a short break from the lab and head over to the other lab
C) Change to Nanoha's PoV

Please post your choices BOLD and in DarkOrange

Previous Installments
-Intro
-Chapter 01
-Chapter 02
-Chapter 03
-Chapter 04
-Chapter 05
-Chapter 06
-Chapter 07
-Chapter 08
-Chapter 09
-Chapter 10

What's in the other lab? B

[Laith]

Resting is good for a womAn

[OrderNorChaos]

Originally Posted by Evangelion Xgouki

DIVIDED DESTINY
Two People, Two Paths

Spoiler for Divided Destiny, pt. 11:

"Hand me drive #4 from Standard Lab #03."

"Anyone found anymore of the Astronomy database?"

A groan escaped Fate's throat as she rubbed her eyes from her computer terminal. It had been just over two weeks since the evacuation of Eden. The Evacuation Transport were their home for several days as the convoy traversed the New Terra landscape. They had it easy compared to some of the workers and ConVec drivers who sped on ahead and probably drove non-stop to establish the outpost. By the time the rest of the colonists arrived, the core structures were online. A few cargo trucks were unloaded and diverted to start hauling raw ore from the new mine to the Smelter. Food stores were stable but building materials were lacking as food was made a priority during the evacuation. From what she had seen they had managed to load only two Residence kits onto ConVecs. That meant housing would be extremely limited and many would end up taking up refuge where they could, most of which was in the tubes connecting the structures. Typically this was against the law and enforced by the police, but given the situation they didn't have much of a choice. Supplies were distributed and food was rationed until they could establish a more stable colony.

"What's the status on the Chemistry Database?"

"We've managed to reconstruct about 78% so far."

"Make sure we get that completed Biology Database backed up. I doubt we want to have to rebuild it again."

All the scientists were kept busy since they arrived. Two simple labs were constructed for them to work out of. Right now their priority was to reconstruct the various databases they had managed to bring with them. In the panic and confusion of the evacuation data had become mixed up. Some managed to download parts of a database onto hard drives while others had put bits of different ones onto the drives. This meant they had to go through each hard drive and sort out the information. With some luck they hoped to get all the databases restored within the next week or two. It was tedious work, but it had to be done.

Some hours later the sun had set and plunged the colony into darkness. The lights of the structures illuminated the immediate area around them but it was much less compared to the original colony with the Light Towers scattered around to push back the darkness even farther from the colony. Looking out one of the lab's windows, Fate could make out a few moving specs of light. From what she had heard, the mine that had been established had a lower yield of ore than they had hoped, which meant they had to keep the Cargo Trucks working 24/7 to get the metals they needed. Thankfully the task could be automated from the Command Center though they had to drive slower at night due to the lack of lights along their path to and from the Smelter.

A glance around the lab showed many scientists had left to join their families for the evening. A few, like herself, remained behind. The lab was just as good a place as any right now to sleep and it wasn't as crowded as the tubes. Desks and equipment were pushed aside to give them more room to lay down the sleeping bags they had been provided. With the lights shut off, Fate laid down and closed her eyes. Hopefully sleep would come quickly to her tonight and spare her some relief from her worries and fears.

As morning came to the colonists of Eden, Fate yawned and stretched from her position on the lab floor.

A) Take a short break from the lab and walk around the small outpost
B) Take a short break from the lab and head over to the other lab
C) Change to Nanoha's PoV

Please post your choices BOLD and in DarkOrange

Previous Installments
-Intro
-Chapter 01
-Chapter 02
-Chapter 03
-Chapter 04
-Chapter 05
-Chapter 06
-Chapter 07
-Chapter 08
-Chapter 09
-Chapter 10

A will be my choice. Thanks

[BPHaru]

Originally Posted by Knight of L-sama

... I must be crazy.

Spoiler for Quack!Fate pt 6:

Years passed since Nanoha had adopted Fate, and the older of the two deemed the younger was finally ready to learn the dark arts of torture.

"Are you watching, Fate-chan?"

"Mmhmm." Fate's eyes trailed away from the struggling random grunt that was the victim-of-the-day/practice-dummy and towards the door, behind which Arf would be waiting for her.

"Fate!" When Nanoha bent the grunt's middle finger back to impossible levels, forcing out a strangled scream from the grunt, Fate refixated her attention on the task at hand. Blue eyes stared hard into red ones. "Pay attention. You're getting older by the day; I don't want you to be taken advantage of by the other /lesser/ demons."

Fate withheld the urge to roll her eyes. She was well aware that Nanoha ruled this nest and so long as she was favored by Nanoha and everyone knew it, she was as good as set apart on a pedestal. "Yes, Nanoha."

"Good." Nanoha was aware that Fate wasn't as interested in the art of torture as she was, but it had to be taught for her to become a full-fledged demon in her own right. "Now, let's continue from the last lesson. Do you remember what I taught you about the many ways to incapacitate a being based on their spinal cord?"

Fate really wished she could be released to make flower crowns with Arf... "Damage to the spinal cord can disrupt registration of sensation to the brain, so complete damage to this part of the body is wholly undesired, until possibly after they've been killed. Rather, sharp, concentrated attention to key pressure points can maximize pain without quite killing the subject /because/ the spinal cord is the essential highway for nerves between the body and the brain. In other ways-"

"Enough." Fate looked up from her disinterested gaze at the back of the grunt with eyes that shimmered with hope. Was she being let loose early? Nanoha released the grunt between them, letting him fall onto the operation table. "You're clearly good at the theory. Let's see you do it in practice."

Fate flinched. "Do I have to?" It came out before she could stop herself.

Nanoha closed her eyes and pointed in the general direction of Arf. The tip of her finger glowed with her signature demonically horrid pinkness. "You have until the count to 10 to get him to confess his favorite color or else Arf gets it."

"Nanoh-"

"1!" Nanoha didn't even open her eyes, the pink sphere growing steadily.

Fate knew then that she was entirely serious. Feverishly, she thought about what the most effective way was, pressing the pressure point that she believed would cost the most pain (which would also pass the quickest). When she first demanded to know the answer to Nanoha's question, her voice squeaked, but she was better the second time around.

By the time the grunt was saying, "Kill me! Just kill me now!" Nanoha was on '8.'

Suddenly, Fate got an idea and leaned down and whispered something of a threat into his ear.

The results were instantaneous. "Green! My favorite color is neon green!"

"...9." Nanoha smirked, letting the pink light fade from her finger as she opened her eyes. Despite what she had just threatened to do to Arf, her smile was kind and reached her eyes. "Good girl."

Fate glared with something like a pout mixed with a frown. Her heart was still hammering in her chest. "You wouldn't have... have actually killed her, would you?"

"Never give your adversary the benefit a doubt. Those goddamned devil-haters have their own moments of double-crossing. They might say 'mercy' but act out 'euthanasia.'"

Fate looked down at the grunt, who was now breathing shallowly, and felt the energy leave her body. She didn't want to do this anymore.

"No devil started out as a devil, Fate-chan." Nanoha whistled and two guards came in and carried the grunt away. She walked around the table and placed her arm over Fate's shoulders. Fate was catching up to her in height. "Any truly powerful devil has someone or something they want to protect with everything they have. It is their one weakness, and yet their greatest source of strength. "

Fate was silent, staring at the floor as Nanoha led her out of the dark room.

Nanoha opened the doors for them, and Fate's eyes lit up when she saw Arf in child form playing with Lilith.

As Nanoha nudged Fate towards them, Nanoha's words haunted Fate to the depths of her soul.

"Demons become devils to protect what they love most."

"Fate!"

Fate ran up to Arf and dropped to her knees and hugged her tightly.

"Fate...?" Arf looked past Fate's shoulder and saw Nanoha walking away. "Fate... it's okay... it's okay..."

"If Nanoha became a white devil to protect someone pure, will I become a black devil to protect someone who's not?"

O.o Spooooky... I think I just made Quack!Fate serious. Egads.

Nice way to end this chapter, I love the last quote ^^
It would be nice to see some "positive" influence to Nanoha from part of Fate-chan in future chapters~

Originally Posted by Knight of L-sama

Spoiler for The threat:

While making crowns of flowers together, Fate told Arf about her lesson of the day.

Arf nodded, expecting no less, and asked, "So what did you threaten him with that made him crack?"

"Nothing that bad... it's not torture to me at least, but I know these "hardcore demons" really hate it..."

"So what was it?"

"... I said when Nanoha wasn't watching I'd smuggle in tapes of Barney and the Teletubbies with "It's a small world" playing in the background... and make him watch it."

"..."

Okay, I feel better now.

OMG! Fate is now even worst than Nanoha!

Cuídense y sigan sonriendo

[Laith]

Crossroads

The Goddess will never let me fall

So I trust my life to her

Spoiler for part 12+1:

Nanoha used her sword to support herself. Her tiredness was reaching the point where she could fall unconscious at any moment.

“I´ll fight the leader, You keep the red head busy.” Fate ordered to Nanoha. As the circumstances were, Nanoha had little to none chance of beating the red haired, so waiting for the eventual win of the valkyrie on the pink haired, and that the other two didn’t return. It was the best plan that they had.

“Yes… Lord… Fate…” Nanoha said still weak from the darkness. It was getting even harder for the brunette to hold her sword, so fighting with magic was almost impossible.

“Heh, why do I have to fight the weak idiot?” the red haired girl asked rhetorically. Taking something out of her pocket, she whispered “Graf Eisen.” From nowhere, a hammer appeared in the hands of the girl.

“Over confidence will kill you Vita,” Signum said and took off a sword-shaped pendant, muttering “Laevatein,” a sword formed in front of the pink haired.

What… is… happening?
"So you are the ones who stole technology from the church? I guess that is another crime for your list,” the valkyrie said in her stoically voice. “Surrender and perhaps we will forgive some of your crimes, Master Vita.”

Stolen… technology... Master… Vita?

“Shut up,” Vita roared as she jumped to attack the red eyed girl. The valkyrie just sidestepped to avoid the attack from the hammer.

“As predictable as ever, Master Vita,” the valkyrie replied. “Remember to keep your temperament under control,” the red haired swung the hammer once again. Strangely enough the valkyrie didn’t attempt to move. A sword stopped the hammer centimeters away the valkyrie. “Thanks Lady Takamachi,” Raising Heart had stopped Graf Eisen. Nanoha had recovered a little of her breath.

“So the weakling decided to help?” the red haired mocked to the knight.

“I… am… not… weak…” her pride spoke, even though she was in no condition to fight.

“Heh, big words for someone that can’t even stand,” Vita spoke, forgetting her previous prey. Nanoha, as Vita had said, was breathing heavily, arms and leg trembling.

This… may… be… hard.

The knight stepped back, taking some distance between her and the red haired girl. If she wanted to endure against Vita, she had to avoid a hit form the hammer and try to tire the red haired although seemingly impossible it was the best plan that was in her field of possibilities.

“Blessing from the Goddess, help me strike thy enemy… Terra Formae,” as Vita ended her spell, parts of the floors levitated. Looking at them, one could see the sphere shape that they had. Nanoha couldn’t see it, since she was busy preparing herself to dodge whatever was coming. “Here it comes,” She roared as she hit one of the spheres. The brunette barely dodged the attack when another sphere was shot in her direction.

“Holy light, protect me from my enemy… Round Shield,” A circle of light appeared in her hand, deflecting the rock that was coming after her, but making her feeling even dizzier.

…I…

Her feet had given up and she fell to the floor almost unconscious. As she looked up she saw the red haired girl smiling and, before letting herself fall in darkness, she heard the mocking voice of the red haired.

“Heh, you are weakling idiot, just as I thought”

Spoiler for decision 14-1:

A)Have the obligatory spoilerish dream

B) Have a nice and fluffly dream

Spoiler for R/S:

Yuuno 5 - Why are they taking so long?/
Fate 4 - She is good
Alicia 5 - Is she alright?
Erio 2 - So she is a Lumino mage...
Caro 4 - Please rest a little Old sis/
Vita -3 - Weakling
Shamal -1 - My, my she looks pale
Zafira -1 - The enemy
Signum 0 - ...

Anticlimatic ending is anticlimatic. Green big.

[OrderNorChaos]

Originally Posted by Laith

Crossroads

The Goddess will never let me fall

So I trust my life to her

Spoiler for part 12+1:

Nanoha used her sword to support herself. Her tiredness was reaching the point where she could fall unconscious at any moment.

“I´ll fight the leader, You keep the red head busy.” Fate ordered to Nanoha. As the circumstances were, Nanoha had little to none chance of beating the red haired, so waiting for the eventual win of the valkyrie on the pink haired, and that the other two didn’t return. It was the best plan that they had.

“Yes… Lord… Fate…” Nanoha said still weak from the darkness. It was getting even harder for the brunette to hold her sword, so fighting with magic was almost impossible.

“Heh, why do I have to fight the weak idiot?” the red haired girl asked rhetorically. Taking something out of her pocket, she whispered “Graf Eisen.” From nowhere, a hammer appeared in the hands of the girl.

“Over confidence will kill you Vita,” Signum said and took off a sword-shaped pendant, muttering “Laevatein,” a sword formed in front of the pink haired.

What… is… happening?
"So you are the ones who stole technology from the church? I guess that is another crime for your list,” the valkyrie said in her stoically voice. “Surrender and perhaps we will forgive some of your crimes, Master Vita.”

Stolen… technology... Master… Vita?

“Shut up,” Vita roared as she jumped to attack the red eyed girl. The valkyrie just sidestepped to avoid the attack from the hammer.

“As predictable as ever, Master Vita,” the valkyrie replied. “Remember to keep your temperament under control,” the red haired swung the hammer once again. Strangely enough the valkyrie didn’t attempt to move. A sword stopped the hammer centimeters away the valkyrie. “Thanks Lady Takamachi,” Raising Heart had stopped Graf Eisen. Nanoha had recovered a little of her breath.

“So the weakling decided to help?” the red haired mocked to the knight.

“I… am… not… weak…” her pride spoke, even though she was in no condition to fight.

“Heh, big words for someone that can’t even stand,” Vita spoke, forgetting her previous prey. Nanoha, as Vita had said, was breathing heavily, arms and leg trembling.

This… may… be… hard.

The knight stepped back, taking some distance between her and the red haired girl. If she wanted to endure against Vita, she had to avoid a hit form the hammer and try to tire the red haired although seemingly impossible it was the best plan that was in her field of possibilities.

“Blessing from the Goddess, help me strike thy enemy… Terra Formae,” as Vita ended her spell, parts of the floors levitated. Looking at them, one could see the sphere shape that they had. Nanoha couldn’t see it, since she was busy preparing herself to dodge whatever was coming. “Here it comes,” She roared as she hit one of the spheres. The brunette barely dodged the attack when another sphere was shot in her direction.

“Holy light, protect me from my enemy… Round Shield,” A circle of light appeared in her hand, deflecting the rock that was coming after her, but making her feeling even dizzier.

…I…

Her feet had given up and she fell to the floor almost unconscious. As she looked up she saw the red haired girl smiling and, before letting herself fall in darkness, she heard the mocking voice of the red haired.

“Heh, you are weakling idiot, just as I thought”

Spoiler for decision 14-1:

A)Have the obligatory spoilerish dream

B) Have a nice and fluffly dream

Spoiler for R/S:

Yuuno 5 - Why are they taking so long?/
Fate 4 - She is good
Alicia 5 - Is she alright?
Erio 2 - So she is a Lumino mage...
Caro 4 - Please rest a little Old sis/
Vita -3 - Weakling
Shamal -1 - My, my she looks pale
Zafira -1 - The enemy
Signum 0 - ...

Anticlimatic ending is anticlimatic. Green big.

Lots of fluff please.... not!! I am going for A.

[markesellus]

Originally Posted by Evangelion Xgouki

DIVIDED DESTINY
Two People, Two Paths

Spoiler for Divided Destiny, pt. 11:

"Hand me drive #4 from Standard Lab #03."

"Anyone found anymore of the Astronomy database?"

A groan escaped Fate's throat as she rubbed her eyes from her computer terminal. It had been just over two weeks since the evacuation of Eden. The Evacuation Transport were their home for several days as the convoy traversed the New Terra landscape. They had it easy compared to some of the workers and ConVec drivers who sped on ahead and probably drove non-stop to establish the outpost. By the time the rest of the colonists arrived, the core structures were online. A few cargo trucks were unloaded and diverted to start hauling raw ore from the new mine to the Smelter. Food stores were stable but building materials were lacking as food was made a priority during the evacuation. From what she had seen they had managed to load only two Residence kits onto ConVecs. That meant housing would be extremely limited and many would end up taking up refuge where they could, most of which was in the tubes connecting the structures. Typically this was against the law and enforced by the police, but given the situation they didn't have much of a choice. Supplies were distributed and food was rationed until they could establish a more stable colony.

"What's the status on the Chemistry Database?"

"We've managed to reconstruct about 78% so far."

"Make sure we get that completed Biology Database backed up. I doubt we want to have to rebuild it again."

All the scientists were kept busy since they arrived. Two simple labs were constructed for them to work out of. Right now their priority was to reconstruct the various databases they had managed to bring with them. In the panic and confusion of the evacuation data had become mixed up. Some managed to download parts of a database onto hard drives while others had put bits of different ones onto the drives. This meant they had to go through each hard drive and sort out the information. With some luck they hoped to get all the databases restored within the next week or two. It was tedious work, but it had to be done.

Some hours later the sun had set and plunged the colony into darkness. The lights of the structures illuminated the immediate area around them but it was much less compared to the original colony with the Light Towers scattered around to push back the darkness even farther from the colony. Looking out one of the lab's windows, Fate could make out a few moving specs of light. From what she had heard, the mine that had been established had a lower yield of ore than they had hoped, which meant they had to keep the Cargo Trucks working 24/7 to get the metals they needed. Thankfully the task could be automated from the Command Center though they had to drive slower at night due to the lack of lights along their path to and from the Smelter.

A glance around the lab showed many scientists had left to join their families for the evening. A few, like herself, remained behind. The lab was just as good a place as any right now to sleep and it wasn't as crowded as the tubes. Desks and equipment were pushed aside to give them more room to lay down the sleeping bags they had been provided. With the lights shut off, Fate laid down and closed her eyes. Hopefully sleep would come quickly to her tonight and spare her some relief from her worries and fears.

As morning came to the colonists of Eden, Fate yawned and stretched from her position on the lab floor.

A) Take a short break from the lab and walk around the small outpost
B) Take a short break from the lab and head over to the other lab
C) Change to Nanoha's PoV

Please post your choices BOLD and in DarkOrange

Previous Installments
-Intro
-Chapter 01
-Chapter 02
-Chapter 03
-Chapter 04
-Chapter 05
-Chapter 06
-Chapter 07
-Chapter 08
-Chapter 09
-Chapter 10

B!

Originally Posted by Knight of L-sama

... I must be crazy.

Spoiler for Quack!Fate pt 6:

Years passed since Nanoha had adopted Fate, and the older of the two deemed the younger was finally ready to learn the dark arts of torture.

"Are you watching, Fate-chan?"

"Mmhmm." Fate's eyes trailed away from the struggling random grunt that was the victim-of-the-day/practice-dummy and towards the door, behind which Arf would be waiting for her.

"Fate!" When Nanoha bent the grunt's middle finger back to impossible levels, forcing out a strangled scream from the grunt, Fate refixated her attention on the task at hand. Blue eyes stared hard into red ones. "Pay attention. You're getting older by the day; I don't want you to be taken advantage of by the other /lesser/ demons."

Fate withheld the urge to roll her eyes. She was well aware that Nanoha ruled this nest and so long as she was favored by Nanoha and everyone knew it, she was as good as set apart on a pedestal. "Yes, Nanoha."

"Good." Nanoha was aware that Fate wasn't as interested in the art of torture as she was, but it had to be taught for her to become a full-fledged demon in her own right. "Now, let's continue from the last lesson. Do you remember what I taught you about the many ways to incapacitate a being based on their spinal cord?"

Fate really wished she could be released to make flower crowns with Arf... "Damage to the spinal cord can disrupt registration of sensation to the brain, so complete damage to this part of the body is wholly undesired, until possibly after they've been killed. Rather, sharp, concentrated attention to key pressure points can maximize pain without quite killing the subject /because/ the spinal cord is the essential highway for nerves between the body and the brain. In other ways-"

"Enough." Fate looked up from her disinterested gaze at the back of the grunt with eyes that shimmered with hope. Was she being let loose early? Nanoha released the grunt between them, letting him fall onto the operation table. "You're clearly good at the theory. Let's see you do it in practice."

Fate flinched. "Do I have to?" It came out before she could stop herself.

Nanoha closed her eyes and pointed in the general direction of Arf. The tip of her finger glowed with her signature demonically horrid pinkness. "You have until the count to 10 to get him to confess his favorite color or else Arf gets it."

"Nanoh-"

"1!" Nanoha didn't even open her eyes, the pink sphere growing steadily.

Fate knew then that she was entirely serious. Feverishly, she thought about what the most effective way was, pressing the pressure point that she believed would cost the most pain (which would also pass the quickest). When she first demanded to know the answer to Nanoha's question, her voice squeaked, but she was better the second time around.

By the time the grunt was saying, "Kill me! Just kill me now!" Nanoha was on '8.'

Suddenly, Fate got an idea and leaned down and whispered something of a threat into his ear.

The results were instantaneous. "Green! My favorite color is neon green!"

"...9." Nanoha smirked, letting the pink light fade from her finger as she opened her eyes. Despite what she had just threatened to do to Arf, her smile was kind and reached her eyes. "Good girl."

Fate glared with something like a pout mixed with a frown. Her heart was still hammering in her chest. "You wouldn't have... have actually killed her, would you?"

"Never give your adversary the benefit a doubt. Those goddamned devil-haters have their own moments of double-crossing. They might say 'mercy' but act out 'euthanasia.'"

Fate looked down at the grunt, who was now breathing shallowly, and felt the energy leave her body. She didn't want to do this anymore.

"No devil started out as a devil, Fate-chan." Nanoha whistled and two guards came in and carried the grunt away. She walked around the table and placed her arm over Fate's shoulders. Fate was catching up to her in height. "Any truly powerful devil has someone or something they want to protect with everything they have. It is their one weakness, and yet their greatest source of strength. "

Fate was silent, staring at the floor as Nanoha led her out of the dark room.

Nanoha opened the doors for them, and Fate's eyes lit up when she saw Arf in child form playing with Lilith.

As Nanoha nudged Fate towards them, Nanoha's words haunted Fate to the depths of her soul.

"Demons become devils to protect what they love most."

"Fate!"

Fate ran up to Arf and dropped to her knees and hugged her tightly.

"Fate...?" Arf looked past Fate's shoulder and saw Nanoha walking away. "Fate... it's okay... it's okay..."

"If Nanoha became a white devil to protect someone pure, will I become a black devil to protect someone who's not?"

O.o Spooooky... I think I just made Quack!Fate serious. Egads.

Spoiler for The threat:

While making crowns of flowers together, Fate told Arf about her lesson of the day.

Arf nodded, expecting no less, and asked, "So what did you threaten him with that made him crack?"

"Nothing that bad... it's not torture to me at least, but I know these "hardcore demons" really hate it..."

"So what was it?"

"... I said when Nanoha wasn't watching I'd smuggle in tapes of Barney and the Teletubbies with "It's a small world" playing in the background... and make him watch it."

"..."

Okay, I feel better now.

D: You turned my page claim against me! Wow serious "cwack" Fate was weird, but still really good. I really liked Nanoha's line about devils and what Fate said at the end. The threat was great. Those teletubbies can really get to you.

Originally Posted by Laith

Crossroads

The Goddess will never let me fall

So I trust my life to her

Spoiler for part 12+1:

Nanoha used her sword to support herself. Her tiredness was reaching the point where she could fall unconscious at any moment.

“I´ll fight the leader, You keep the red head busy.” Fate ordered to Nanoha. As the circumstances were, Nanoha had little to none chance of beating the red haired, so waiting for the eventual win of the valkyrie on the pink haired, and that the other two didn’t return. It was the best plan that they had.

“Yes… Lord… Fate…” Nanoha said still weak from the darkness. It was getting even harder for the brunette to hold her sword, so fighting with magic was almost impossible.

“Heh, why do I have to fight the weak idiot?” the red haired girl asked rhetorically. Taking something out of her pocket, she whispered “Graf Eisen.” From nowhere, a hammer appeared in the hands of the girl.

“Over confidence will kill you Vita,” Signum said and took off a sword-shaped pendant, muttering “Laevatein,” a sword formed in front of the pink haired.

What… is… happening?
"So you are the ones who stole technology from the church? I guess that is another crime for your list,” the valkyrie said in her stoically voice. “Surrender and perhaps we will forgive some of your crimes, Master Vita.”

Stolen… technology... Master… Vita?

“Shut up,” Vita roared as she jumped to attack the red eyed girl. The valkyrie just sidestepped to avoid the attack from the hammer.

“As predictable as ever, Master Vita,” the valkyrie replied. “Remember to keep your temperament under control,” the red haired swung the hammer once again. Strangely enough the valkyrie didn’t attempt to move. A sword stopped the hammer centimeters away the valkyrie. “Thanks Lady Takamachi,” Raising Heart had stopped Graf Eisen. Nanoha had recovered a little of her breath.

“So the weakling decided to help?” the red haired mocked to the knight.

“I… am… not… weak…” her pride spoke, even though she was in no condition to fight.

“Heh, big words for someone that can’t even stand,” Vita spoke, forgetting her previous prey. Nanoha, as Vita had said, was breathing heavily, arms and leg trembling.

This… may… be… hard.

The knight stepped back, taking some distance between her and the red haired girl. If she wanted to endure against Vita, she had to avoid a hit form the hammer and try to tire the red haired although seemingly impossible it was the best plan that was in her field of possibilities.

“Blessing from the Goddess, help me strike thy enemy… Terra Formae,” as Vita ended her spell, parts of the floors levitated. Looking at them, one could see the sphere shape that they had. Nanoha couldn’t see it, since she was busy preparing herself to dodge whatever was coming. “Here it comes,” She roared as she hit one of the spheres. The brunette barely dodged the attack when another sphere was shot in her direction.

“Holy light, protect me from my enemy… Round Shield,” A circle of light appeared in her hand, deflecting the rock that was coming after her, but making her feeling even dizzier.

…I…

Her feet had given up and she fell to the floor almost unconscious. As she looked up she saw the red haired girl smiling and, before letting herself fall in darkness, she heard the mocking voice of the red haired.

“Heh, you are weakling idiot, just as I thought”

Spoiler for decision 14-1:

A)Have the obligatory spoilerish dream

B) Have a nice and fluffly dream

Spoiler for R/S:

Yuuno 5 - Why are they taking so long?/
Fate 4 - She is good
Alicia 5 - Is she alright?
Erio 2 - So she is a Lumino mage...
Caro 4 - Please rest a little Old sis/
Vita -3 - Weakling
Shamal -1 - My, my she looks pale
Zafira -1 - The enemy
Signum 0 - ...

Anticlimatic ending is anticlimatic. Green big.

Wow Nanoha must be really drained. I want C for the erotic dream sequence with Lord Fate!

[TheShinySword]

A B

I'm sure you've all been wondering what is it that's been missing from your life well here I am to bring it back. Here's a touch of shiny crack for you all.

Spoiler for The White Devil Watches over us:

Spoiler for If you really need a tune:

Vivio: The maidens who assemble in the White Devil's garden today, too, pass through the tall gates to hell. Their violent bodies and minds are wrapped in dark-colored school uniforms. The pleats on their skirts and their white sailor collars should always be tidy or the White Devil will shoot them down. Blasting slowly is preferred here. The Lyrical Girls' School.


*Rose petals fall around stained glass versions of Raising Heart, Schwarz and Bardiche. The screen changes to show the real deal with the words The White Devil watches over us over the image. *

asamoya no naka

*The screen seems to go underwater but fades into the scene of the tops of trees, a pink blast destroys the trees.

tsuduku shiroi michi

*Vivio walks quickly down the path looking panicked, several sweat dropping girls behind her. She finally reaches where she was trying right up to her annoyed looking Onee-sama, Vita who has her hands on her hips.*

tori no saezuri

*Vita flips back a braid and looks peeved as the camera pans up to the sky*

aisatsu kawashi nagara

*Hayate sits alone on a bench, a blue puppy at her feet. The camera focuses on her goofy grin then on the blue puppy seemingly rolling it's eyes then on the Tia panty shot photo she has in her hands*

toki ni kumo ga tamekomete

*Someone is floating in a pool filled with flowers. Tia's embarrassed face fades across the screen. The next shot is of Signum and Caro, Gently smiling Signum is placed behind a trickster looking Caro*

hizashi kagerou tomo

*Nanoha smiles kindly and flips back her pony tail as she sits and the council table. The camera turns to Fate who is sleeping lightly and drooling on the table. She jolts awake and turns bright red as she wipes away her spittle*

sesuji nobashite aruku

*Two hands reach towards Raising Heart, one nearly reaches it but the other one is too stubby and can't. They fade away and many devices start falling. They dissolve into the student council room*

watashi ha shitteru kara

*There is a giant cherry tree, Subaru and Tia stand under it. The two fade on top of the cherry tree, Subaru grinning and Tia just looking embarrassed by her.*

omoi kumo no ue ha

*Two hands encircle Raising Heart which starts to glow and turns into a sky framed by trees.*

aoi sora

*The trees fade back to the the original stained glass which has now been shattered by what seems to be a hammer sized hole.*

Page claim For Blasting Slowly!