city streets

@⬙ ﹕ snow angel. Miyu raises an eyebrow at the way Snow Angel stammers out an answer, but his reasons are none of his business. It isn't as if she's going to see him after this, judging by the way her previous... 'leashes,' all of whom have never come back after a single day spent with her. She calls them leashes because that is what they are; because this damned government thinks that she deserves to be leashed. So what if she's caused a little bit of chaos in the past? That's all fun! It isn't as if she's murdered anyone with the malicious intention of simply killing them! Mere collaterals, she would argue, but of course, these puny humans do not listen.

And it's for that stubbornness that Miyu thinks she's absolutely justified in her actions! But alas, she can't be doing that anymore.

"Really? That sounds like a sad life you're living," she says, making a face. She can't imagine a life where she can't consume sweets. These delicacies are the only things that are almost as good as meat, but alas, her diet has had to change ever since becoming leashed by the government. (One day, she'll make them pay for that—how? She doesn't know just yet.)

"Then what do you like to eat? Bitter things? Meat?"

@◆ ﹕ eclipse. （　trigger warning | violence, someone literally getting burned alive?　）

The tone Eclipse takes on would’ve perhaps been a mockery to other “heroes” who take themselves a bit more seriously, or heck, even Puppeteer’s younger self—but unfortunately he’s gotten accustomed to all sorts of trash talk over the years. He’d probably throw in a quip or two in response had the circumstances been less of… an emotional wreck, for a lack of better wording.

But that aside, his voice. That ing voice. Underneath the mask, the steeled, monotonous timbre, lies a twinge of familiarity—and it’s as if his heart had missed a beat in its racing rhythm. Puppeteer doesn’t let his inner turmoil bleed into his disposition, but his finger twitches ever so slightly in an attempt to keep his hands steady in front of him. The shadow behind Eclipse responds with a faint jerk, ready to be rigged and used at his disposal with just another pinch of energy and swift hand motion, but instead he delays his attack once more. He decides to wait it out, even when Eclipse brings the man down with a kick and pins him against the ground.

So much for an only warning.

He catches a glimpse of the man’s face as he stares up at Puppeteer with the most pitiful, desperate gaze that only reminded him of the old days. Of course it has to be one of those people—one of those faces embroiled in scandals everyone would forget about in a week or two, perhaps after a gentle slap on the wrist, conditioned to believe that they transcend even godhood within the confines of this damn city.

Someone he and Haneul would have sent back to Hell with the slowest, most excruciating death they could ever give—all in the name of justice.

So he sure as hell doesn’t need anyone to tell him . He knows. He understands. So much that he also understands that sending the man—or anyone else for that matter, no matter how much he detests them—wouldn’t change a single thing. Scums will always be scums, and it is not their place to also play god and pretend that they are doing the world a favor by chipping their sanity away with every drop of blood on their hands. That is what Haneul had failed to realize, and what Dalbit has failed to *make him realize*.

Dalbit feels sorry for the man hiding behind that mask.

But that is not who he is for now. He’s Puppeteer, and he’s here to make sure that Eclipse doesn’t claim another life.

“I don’t think that matters, Eclipse,” he says in a hardened voice—one he only puts on while on duty, under his moniker. He realizes that this side of his would’ve been new to Haneul too: gone was the meek, soft-spoken boy who’d worshipped the ground his brother stood on, content with being a mere accomplice to his twisted ideals. “You’re delusional if you think you have the right to bring that man to his death.”

He’s seen the security footage one too many times—enough to be able to recall the events as if he was rewatching it in real time. He’s seen Eclipse’s last victim engulfed in a blinding spark with just a single touch, flopping around like a fish out of water as the light slow cooks him to death, leaving behind a trail of smoke the camera had barely caught, and a corpse with its epidermis fairly intact but its insides charred if not straight up reduced to ashes. And the worst part? It doesn’t faze him as much as it should have. He’s been desensitized to it, forced to bear witness to it, forced to have a hand on it—and yet it still haunts him. In his sleep. In his waking life. Every ing second he spends donning this goddamn costume, cursed with the ability to hurt and kill and still he embraces it with open arms—

*Right now.*

He abruptly changes his aim and points his free hand at himself, rigging his own shadow and using it to cushion his fall as he leaps out of the window, forsaking his higher ground advantage to stand just a few feet behind his opponent. A terrible combat choice, he knows, but this is the only way he can meet Eclipse face-to-face. To unmask him, and pray to ing God that he had indeed, left his twin to die that night. The thought makes him sick in the stomach, but perhaps it’s more bearable than the prospect of having to do it all over again.

Puppeteer forces out an arrogant chuckle in response to the other’s threat. “Tell you what—you underestimate me too much.” Just like Haneul did to Dalbit years ago. Just like he once did to himself. Henchmen aside, he has more than enough material to work with, but that does little to ease the anxiety bubbling up in his chest, to be honest. Eclipse is as much of a stranger as Puppeteer is to him. Cho Haneul, on the other hand…

“I’ll let you on one more thing, since I’m feeling nice today.” That, of course, is a lie. He’s never felt this horrible in ages, but if there’s one thing Dalbit has picked up from being Puppeteer, it’s that he *loves* putting on a show no matter how dire his circumstances. He leaves the henchmen’s shadows be, deeming that they’d weigh enough to keep those men out of the way for some time. He can’t afford the disadvantage of only working with one hand—not when he almost, *almost* met his own demise the last time this happened. He hops off his own shadow and positions it on standby. “I’m not the type to * off* just ‘cause some er with a debilitating god complex told me to.” And with that, his shadow throws itself towards Eclipse’s direction, aiming to pin him down and hopefully tear that mask off his face.

@⬙ ﹕ puppeteer. [] 8 hours = 15 hours in my world apparently. ANYWAYS HERE YA GO, HOPEFULLY ITS OKEY DOKEY. Loose outfit inspo, minus the purple markings on the mask: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1a/94/14/1a9414e9a24f1569f4303a961b35063e.jpg

"If it's my only warning, I better listen, shouldn't I?"

Haneul's response is almost bored as he stares down at the quivering beast he has cornered—no, not beast; that nearly implies that the poor excuse of a human being in front of him holds any power or authority over him—this? This pathetic mess? Barely even an animal, more like a life-leeching parasite, if Haneul had to think about it(and he didn't).

Look, Haneul wasn't bothered by how things were turning out. In truth, he sounded bored because he /was/ bored. It was the same thing over and over and over; God, didn't they ever get tired of this? It was the same story every time.

Chapter One: be introduced to the main character(Haneul) and be presented with the plot(a tale as old as time: corruption in the institutions that swore to protect and uphold their citizens.). Chapter Two: be introduced to the villain(in this case, Kim Ilhwan, a sponsor for corrupt institutions and a partaker of nefarious activities, like the good antagonist he was). Chapter Three: The hero goes to defeat the villain, only to come face to face with the secondary antagonist, who serves as some sort of foil to the hero(aka this newbie who really didn't understand what he was getting into). Chapter Four: The hero beats the little villain and defeats the big baddie. Currently, Haneul was on chapter three and honestly? He was ready to finish the book and move on to the next one.

He almost felt bad for the wannabe hero behind him. He needed to learn more about what he was getting into, and Haneul had no issue with being his teacher. Haneul didn't spare a glance behind him as the flat of his foot planted itself in the soft belly of his villain, knocking the man flat onto the ground. "Stay down." Haneul snarled, lip curling beneath his Volto, iris' blazing with iridescent light in the eye sockets. Ilhwan wheezed, nodding as he curled in on himself on the ground. Weak, Haneul hadn't even kicked that hard.

Haneul turned to look at the latest in a long string of one-time enemies and paused.

Shadows.

His gaze flitted over the collapsed bodies of his henchmen, finally landing on the darker than night energy pulsing in the heros hand. Something twinged painfully in his, and Haneul was glad for the mask hiding his grimace. Hanuel thought he'd never come across another shadow user; they were rare enough, and Dalbit had been the only one he knew of. There wasn't a day that Haneul didn't think about his brother and miss him terribly.

It was because of him that Haneul did what he did.

"Do you know why I'm going to kill this man? Did they even tell you?" He asked, breaking the almost too-long silence, "Or are you blindly following orders, just like your predecessors?"

Maybe it was because it was another shadow user, but Haneul couldn't help it- "News flash, dude, they all died trying to do what you are. And you will, too, if you don't off."

@◆ ﹕ eclipse. Puppeteer finds himself unable to even stifle his own laughter as he peers out of the window and into the alleyway a couple of floors below. It leaves his mouth icily, bitterly—nothing like that one fateful day in the same place, some thirteen years ago, and the ice cream he still vividly remembers the taste of even after all those years. Well, how could he forget? Perhaps his life would’ve turned out differently had he not begged his brother for a damn mint chocolate chip ice cream just because his skin was *burning* under the sun back then. Perhaps Puppeteer would have never existed in the first place—and he certainly wouldn’t be up here in a subpar bed and breakfast room with his heart drumming violently against his chest, donning a domino mask he never thought he’d wear again, on a stakeout no one had asked him to do, let alone pay commission fees for.

He would’ve gone either way, money or not, traumatic alley or not. Preferably elsewhere, of course, but life has decided to pick this very moment to not spare him of its cruelty. He needs answers, even if that means—

Some things don’t change, do they?

The voice coming through his earpiece interrupts his thoughts. “Puppeteer?” He recognizes it as one belonging to a government agent—a fairly new recruit, he reckons, as he’s only met her once when they were reviewing the exact footage that led him here. “Puppeteer, can you hear me? I can see Eclipse on the security cams now. He’s closing in, and…”

He has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. The working-finance-in-Wall-Street-looking guy they think Eclipse is targeting had just ran into the dead-ended alleyway and is now panicking. Running into a random street you aren’t familiar with is something only his eleven-year-old self would do, and he has sure learned his lesson the hard way. “And?”

“And they’re not alone.”

Even if Eclipse turned out to be someone else, the person behind that identity and Haneul sure had lots in common. They sure like to give Puppeteer—or rather, *Dalbit* a tough time dealing with them. But he’s older, stronger, and above all, he’d like to think that he’s much wittier now. He pulls the window up, just enough so it won’t obstruct his distraction plan while still concealing his presence. “Fine by me,” he says.

“Are you sure, Puppeteer?” A government agent showing him concern? This girl is *definitely* new to the institution. Bless her, but he can’t help but wonder how long that kind heart of hers would last under those disgustingly corrupt folks. “We appreciate your sacrifice, but we are also aware that this was not in the contract, so—”

“Tell your higher-ups not to flatter themselves.” Now he’s rolling his eyes for good. But he supposes that the banter should come to an end—he sees them now: Eclipse and a few other people he doesn’t seem to recognize, but a sneak attack would almost always give him the upper hand in fights. He sticks his arms out, discreetly peeling off the shadows of Eclipse’s men and redirecting them inches behind them before they could notice. “They’re the last people I’d do this for,” he says, just loudly enough for the mic to pick up. “Over and out.”

Without sparing another moment, he tackles the men to the ground with their shadows, channeling enough force to pin them down without making them suffocate. He transfers the energy over to one hand to free his other, aim locked onto Eclipse’s shadow. He can’t see the familiar birthmark he’d seen on the cameras just yet, and while he’s desperate to unmask that damn guy and give himself some closure (even this is… questionable), he can’t let another life slip away from him while being hellbent on his personal mission. “Leave the man alone, Eclipse,” he calls out. Would Haneul still recognize his voice after all these years, he wonders, as if the exposed lower half of his face isn’t already a dead giveaway to his identity. Only one way to find out. “This is your only warning.”

@◇ ﹕ plus. Yuanbin pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, had half the mind to start scolding her until he remembered they were out in public. He wasn't exactly one to call out people for these kinds of things anyway. Sure, she was a little childish, but compared to what the agency had told him before, this seemed completely tame—at least for now.

Once more, he asks himself why he'd taken this job again in the first place. But eventually he relents, shoulders relaxing as the weight of his initial concern melted off of them. His lips slightly curl at the ends, his eyes gentle as they could be. Yuanbin shakes his head with a small smile, politely rejecting the offer—a decision made mostly out of embarrassment more than anything, that and perhaps the fact that he didn't exactly have a sweet tooth. "It's alright, I- uh-," Yuanbin trails off in an effort to think of another reason that wouldn't expose his entire upbringing, but he comes up rather empty.

"It's fine, just get whatever you want. I don't really eat sweets often—or at all, if I'm going to be honest," he admits, rubbing at his arm a little sheepishly. He fears he's going to sound like he'd put himself on some insane fad diet—which of course wasn't the case here.

The reality of it was much worse, but she didn't need to know that. No one needed to know that. They proceed to move one spot further down the line, and Yuanbin suddenly feels obligated to clarify even though there really wasn't much to say.

"Everything kinda just tastes too sweet to me." A lie.

If anything, it was actually quite the opposite. Yuanbin doesn't recall ever losing his sense of taste—he hasn't, or at least not completely—but a lot of things had started going bland for him long before he'd even escaped from The Archon's Gate. If anyone asked, he'd say he was just a little picky.

@⬙ ﹕ snow angel. It isn't unusual for something to easily take Miyu's attention. What she wants, she gets. That's the rule that she's come up with, and she'd be damned if she doesn't uphold that herself! She's been itching to go out since yesterday, but her sister is busy doing other things, and the government still has yet to find a somewhat permanent guardian for her that isn't her sister, which is already too difficult in its own right. How many years have passed by, and how many of the government-assigned guardians stayed?

Exactly, none! Nothing beats her sister, after all, when it comes to knowing her the best!

But she can't have her sister by her side at all times, which , really, because why can't she have her second most favorite person in the world? (Who's the first one, you ask? It's herself, of course!) And now she's stuck with someone she doesn't know, but he does smell of... ice? Is that what it is? But he's so quiet, and doesn't make for entertaining talk.

She's already in line for some delicacies and cakes to treat herself (it's early in the morning, and she needs her energy for the rest of the day), when her current guardian finds her. That smell is familiar now, and she frowns almost immediately. "Is that my problem? You're supposed to be my guard; you should /be/ alert, no?" she says with a light huff, and she's crossing her arms by her front. "Anyway, do you have anything you want to eat? Their cakes here are the best!"

@◇ ﹕ plus. Yuanbin feels a dull ache slowly crawling up into his temples.

It had been exactly an hour since he's started this job and he was already halfway into getting a migraine in the middle of the street. God forbid he'd blink once and the person he was supposed to be looking after suddenly disappears into thin air. If he hadn't read the file they had given to him prior to their meeting, he would have assumed he was watching over a ghost and was convinced they were just screwing with him by sinking into the pavement beneath.

But no, he had been informed that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on an adult—a grown woman who was older than he was—and who apparently also had a knack for being difficult to watch over regardless of who was put up with the responsibility to do so. Yuanbin had been promised it would only be for a single day, and that he would simply be filling in for the absence of her usual guardian, but he had a hunch he was going to get called back in if he did well. Not that he had much of a choice anyway, he wasn't about to flunk his own line of work.

So despite the growing headache, he eyes the shops along the street with his hands on his hips, not unlike that of a mother trying to figure out where her child had run off to. Thankfully, he didn't have to scan very far before he found himself walking into god knows what shop (he hadn't bothered to read), immediately hit with the scent of... sugar? He approached her with a relieved sigh, arms crossed over his chest as he mustered all of his thinning patience into his next words.

"A little heads-up would have been nice, you know."