Passion of the Descendants [HARU]

Oh shit.

This was … not good. He was caught. Oh no, no one was supposed to be home and, holy shit he was a big, angry looking motherfucker. This was a mistake, but … a quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it. He had closed the window. Dammit dammit dammit. Why had he taken off the mask? Oh, right, it was making his face so sweaty. The real question was, how could he let himself get into this stupid of a situation? Oh, man, Francine was gonna kill him. He gulped as the red haired giant of a man crept closer. If this guy didn’t first.

It had all started on a typical day like no other; fleeing New York to protect Amalia. The law had gotten just a little too close for comfort and leaving was the best effort. Of course it was a temporary measure, they’d be back eventually. They all had lives there, the Spider’s Web couldn’t be kept down permanently, there’s people who counted on it! Like … mob bosses and supervillains. If he left, they’d find other business, and that’d be no bueno. Still, they had to leave for a little bit, keep the fuzz off, then they’d return home having learned from this lesson. Hopefully. Oh, no one was happy about it, least off all Balthazar, he was a Gold-Class Hero in New York and well-known, but Chicago was going to be a bumpy ride.

The apartment drew his eye; he didn’t know why, it was as if there was a little voice in his head whispering to him about a treasure beyond belief there. So of course he made his excuses and he was off. RED was of course quickly put on, the cape fluttering in the slight wind. Scaling the side of the building was child's play; there were plenty of handholds, and with RED set to darken, he wasn’t even that noticeable. Lax security, no bars or complicated locks on his window at all. A quick survey showed no one was home … or so he thought. Obviously he was wrong, as he was staring down a giant fucking rage fueled maniac. He backed up, his nails, each painted a different color, brushing his matching hair out of his face.

”Okay, calm down, this is … it’s just a misunderstanding! I was, uh, running, from a gang! And I took a shortcut! Calm down, now, man, no need to rip my limbs off.”

He’s angry, he’s angry! Shit shit! He … probably shouldn’t have told the already pissed-off intrudee to calm down, but what else was he supposed to say? ‘Oh yeah, continue being fucking terrifying?’ Nah, fam. Not gonna happen. He backed up, pressing his back into the firm wall. Dammit. Can’t bust through there. He wasn’t even equipped to fight! Mentally he kicked himself. The Spider’s Claw was just left there, lying on the floor of the car. ‘He didn’t need it, he wasn’t gonna get caught’. It’s cool. It’s cool. He could talk his way out of- Haru yelped and dodged, swearing he smelled singed hair. Fire. Of-fucking-course he can shoot fire. God this was-

And he was a registered hero! Just his luck. By now the panic was starting to set in, his back pressed firmly and squarely against the bookcase. Firebrand … he didn’t recognize the name, but that’s no surprise. Probably Copper. If that was the case, that means he was inexperienced, and Haru could likely take him … though something on the inside said the opposite. It was weird; despite the fear, he felt as if he knew this guy. ‘Course, this guy wasn’t acting like that because he was about to kill him. Haru yelped again, trying to weave out of the way of his full-frontal charge while simultaneously trying to avoid the fire bursting from his hands; the problem with trying to avoid two things is that it’s oft doomed to failure. As ‘Firebrand’ reached him, several things happened at once; Haru gave a screech of pain and fear as the much-larger man impacted him; Haru scampered backwards, almost climbing the wall as he did; and a strange silver glow burst from the intruder.

It started at his hair, and at first he didn’t notice, but it was rapidly spreading. Soon it covered the length of his hair, the wavy locks shining like burnished steel; and even further it spread, covering his face in the uncomfortably bright light. To Rusty, the light would feel, this light of Vanity and Deceit spreading across the young Japanese man. It wasn’t long before the entirety of his body was covered in the light and then, just as the light appeared to dim, from within the ball of light came a scream of pain and the smell of singed flesh. The light flared once, brighter, and then in an instant vanished, releasing it’s erstwhile ward. The man fell, as if he had been suspended in the air, crashing to his hands and knees. He seemed mostly unhurt, but there were a few … key differences.

The most obviously noticeable was his hair; rather than the multi-colored dye job he had worn, instead it was as silver as starlight and seemed to glisten and glow with a light of its own. It was just as long, of course. As Haru stirred, his shirt fell to shreds around him, his now-bare shirt exposed to the light. And upon it was a mark, burned into his flesh, two gold coins, overlapping, bearing the face of a demon. Blood trickled from the mark scarred into his chest, covering the area just over his left pec. Slowly, very slowly, Haru climbed to his feet. Looking tired, haggard … and then a mix of pissed off and scared. He grabbed handfuls of his hair, looking at them with an expression of horror.

”What did you do?!” Haru stared accusingly at the hero, at Firebrand, fury dancing in his eyes. ”You’ve ruined my hair!” His eyes too, but Haru would have no way of knowing that.

”What the hell is a Descendant?!”

Haru was so confused and lost right now. This was supposed to be a simple job! Just … get in, snatch, and go! Crap, he really shouldn’t have even gone in here, Amalia was gonna kill him. And Balthazar. Shit, Francine would bring him back just so she could kill him! He stared at his hands; the irregularly painted colors on his nails were gone, replaced with basic, clean nails. They were actually quite perfect. In fact, everything about him was (more so than it already was, that is.) No pains, no aches, in fact moving felt … effortless. Too easy. Was it always like that? He’s awesome, sure, but now he felt … stronger.

”What the hell is going on here? Who are those … people? What happened to your clothes? Why do I feel so … good?”

Rusty dialed Blanche. Hey Blanche, it’s me. Rusty. Know any Asian men with formerly pink hair?” Rusty turned to Haru as he awaited any sort of answer. ”Okay, so. I’ll start slow since your new to this, Thief.” He wiped his face a bit, and pulled out a beer from the fridge. He popped the top, pointedly not going for one for the man in front of him.

”So. We’re descendants. That essentially means that each and every one of us is a font of emotion. At least that’s how Blanche put it. Basically, we’re aspects of emotions made by wizards. I’m rage, or passion, or strength. Generally I fall more into line with passion, but Rage is a very big part of myself as well.” He took a swig from his beer, and looked the man in the eyes. ”You make a mess on my floor from feeling “good”, I’m going to kill you. Blanche be damned. My guess as to what your feeling, are the perks that come with Descendancy. Strength, speed, durability. As far as I know, there are 4 of us including you now. But I’m pretty sure Blanche is hiding more.”

The call was prompted answered, Blanche’s delicate voice answering.

”Mmm. No, can’t say I do. Why?”

A pause.

”I see.” A brief sigh ”I will be there as soon as I can. Just keep him there, do not let him go anywhere without you. I trust you with this.”

the dial tone

Haru, meanwhile, was busy examining his new body- and hair, and everything else, really. The shirt was ripped of his body with gusto, curious fingers poking and examining every inch of his newly muscled body. Yeah, sure, he wasn’t rippling with muscle like Red Hulk over there, but it was still there. Haru had never been the most … manly of specimen. He definitely didn’t draw the idea purely through being a chunk of manmeat. This is something he’s come to terms with, it’s why he started practicing ballet and acrobatics, hone his natural agility and slim frame to help him with his thieving! Also why he never really … robs people. Hard to threaten people when you look like a stiff breeze would blow you away. Now, though … he flexed his arm and his muscles leaped like a couple of cheerleaders. Damn. He wasn’t ripped per se, but there was some definite muscle definition. And he felt as if he could lift an army of cars! This was great!

His company, less so.

”If I do what now? Yo, man, you’re not making any sense. What’s a Blanche? What do you mean … “perks”? Like, you feel like this all the time? How do you get shit done?”

”Oh, well, uh … shit.”

Haru took a seat, feeling the tense power in his legs, the coiled energy contained within his new muscles that hinted at a power he has yet to unleash. He perched on the edge of the seat, his hands firmly planted on his knees. His feet barely touched the floor, it made him feel like a child sitting in his father’s study. Ah, well. Suppose being a … Decedent? No, that doesn’t sound right. Well, whatever it was doesn’t mean you magically grow a couple of feet, which was unfortunate. Even if he could lift an army of cars, intimidating someone would still be hard when you can’t even sit on a chair proper.

”Huh? Nah, Christmas movies are pretty damn cool. Not sure what it has to do with magic and all this Decadent stuff, but uh … you do you, bro.”