Debt Party [Open]

    The pepperoni was a little overcooked and the cheese was cool and the sauce tasted like something out of a Little Caser’s and the more that Marie thought about it the more certain she was that this might actually be something very easily mass-produced without much flavor at all. For a moment she felt like she was back in the office cafeteria having stolen a slice during one of those biannual parties that afforded the bare minimum to keep morale up but would definitely mean a lack of actual pay raise.

Nostalgic.

    Everyone had already run away but Marie had stopped noticing little things like that awhile ago. Sometimes it was all a fugue of self-pity and other times it was a wave of righteous wroth but it was never directed properly or elegantly and was just a slave throwing their tantrum while shackled to the past. Some part of her recognized this and felt pity but another part was just happy to cut apples and dice oranges and made no muck about it.

Rich kid alert Woohoo!

    That was hardly fair to the odd rabbit walking up to her with the face of the Devil and a trident of orichalcum but how else did she describe it? They were a few inches smaller than her tidy five foot seven frame and had the look about them of someone serious but only in the way you took a cartoon character seriously.

“It’s the rabbit ears. Are they real? I want to tug them.”

    The words were soft but she had not meant to vocalize that.

    Marie knew who she was of course. Ser Tunic Leopold Bradford Baskerville Esq. ala one of THE richie rich. Marie was not in ‘the know’ of who was considered a One-percenter or if that was even a real thing but she was fairly sure the Baskerville name had its fingers in nearly everything. Orphanages to corporate offices to everything in between because as far as she really understood they were more like financier’s which was sort of like a loan shark except bigger and scarier and more corrupt.

    In a very roundabout way that made this self-defense.

“Probably because the Registrar’s office is on fire because I broke everything in there then came over here cause the campus security is strong or smart but I’m not here to beat up minimum wage sort of people.”

    She was mumbling while finishing off the pizza and wiping her greasy fingers onto a little wet wipe and tossing it onto the plate. Marie took a deep breath and pushed away from the table, fingers gliding over the hilt of her blade and finally turned to Tunic.

“I always get so nervous around upper management like you. It’s like I can feel a weight on my shoulders. Make it a little hard to breathe but I’ve got good mental compartmentalization for stress. Most of the time.”

    Because standing in front of Tunic was like standing beneath a gentle stream of water pressing in on her with cool little fangs and warning that the tide had yet to come and she had no clue what was causing it because the girl seemed pretty weak all things considered so it had to be nerves and why would she be nervous? This sort of thing was super lucky!

“Sorry. That wasn’t a joke. I know it’s hard to take me seriously sometimes because it’s hard to work up the sort of excitement someone like you deserves but I don’t really make a great salary and you probably own my company so I’m just gonna…”

    The jab is clean and precise. Her blade is a carmine light in the hyper-sterile white flouresence of the cafeteria that makes it all the more odd to see it attempting to skewer the other girl without so much as a thought. Face a snarling grin and words suddenly biting out as her mood turned so suddenly and violently as if to be a different person altogether.

“Nothing but bloody criminals and men and black kings piss me off just to see you prancing around in the middle of a work day!”

“Haaaah…”

    That was annoying. If she had just let the first blow land this could have been solved much easier. It was her own fault for using something like a jab rather than just doing the job as she ought to have done it. Was she just that out of practice after all those years paper pushing or had she been hoping to enjoy the cut? That was a bit too black for her heart. She was just sloppy and this gold spoon (fork?) was stronger than she let on.

    She could see it now. It was a good and strong stance wide at the base and using the fulcrum of the polearm as appropriate to deflect the jab or guiding slices of blows. Technical mastery with only a hint of aggressiveness but that weave of her trident might indicate it was preparing for its own jab but the arches were deep and rapid.

How interesting.

    Marie’s teeth felt rattled with violent expletives she had never let loose. A frenetic energy in her limbs as she stood in a pose almost lax enough to be insulting. Grip upon the hilt loose, wrist limber, stance wide at the base both posture relaxed.

“Sorry. I’m still getting used to this. I spent so long in those chairs answering calls and reporting to my boss. Writing reports and pushing faxes and emails out. Sometimes when I move it’s like my bones are covered in dust and haven’t remembered that they’re real yet. It makes swinging a sword really cruddy and poor. It’s rude to use more than one stroke to behead your opponent but I went and used a jab like a total clown.”

    Her sleeve was covered in a bit of dust but she still used it to wipe at her eyes and clear out moisture conjured by an exhausted body. The sort of bone deep tired and it had made her lose her professionalism too. She might be against the corporate demiurge but she was still composed of senses and a deep abiding to professionalism had never left her skin.

“I didn’t even introduce myself? What a mess. M’name is Marie Gold. I used to work for NCNS, uh that is the North City Nurse Service, which gives HHA services to elderly and at-home hospice along with medical insurance to individuals who qualify for…”

Stupid Radish.

“Sorry. You probably know all about that place. You’re a big shot. Ah no, THE big shot. It’s a shame you’re so young cause if you had been around when I was starting out then, wow, I’d have been a mega-fan. Now though…”

    A hand waved out to the school and the city beyond that. Frown turned into a scowl and Marie stamped her foot down, cracking tile and a rampage of energy erupting between the two of them as she fought to control what was most certainly a violent nervous breakdown. Her composure broke in a thousand tiny shards and her body leapt forward on an auto-pilot.

Self-annihilation. A man who can cut without thought can kill God.

    It was a dance of sharp solid footwork swinging force and precision into each blow yet the blade was never more than a parry away from leaving her fingertips. She never clung to one blow overly much but poured all she had into each strike. Fast and technically masterful but devoid of thought of pretense for skill and simply martial instinct and a level of violence to shake a person to the core.

“Why wouldn’t I have a problem with you? People like you who bury the unlucky under piles of platitudes about meritocracies and hard work. Who pretends something like the ‘Sharing Economy’ was ever real when it transforms into nothing but grift upon grift where the poor cannibalize one another and the super-rich maintain an eternal monopoly. Where social media can be used to radicalize the old and stupid and influence the young and naive. No even more than that…”

    The carmine of her ki wrapped about her limbs like a shroud, creeping along her body in a tight static cling until it began to draw in and along her to the sword held gently in one hand. Even now her grip had kept from closing too tightly. Lovingly upon the hilt and drawing power in.

“The greatest Kings may sublime violence and forget all they know about the sword. Yet the only true path to Kingship is through regicide. So only a fool seeks to be King. Do you get it? I hate your sort because you relish in your wealth and victories and whirl about yourselves in a great prison of your own making. ‘The economics aren’t feasible! The cost-efficiency for this is too low!’ You rat bastards prefer to let people starve and mire under a weight they never had a proper chance against. I’m not going to pretend I’m anything but what I am either. Definitely a Hero. Definitely violent.”

    Marie felt a niggling in her skull to cool off but the situation made her blood turn to boiling iron and her teeth grit. Too much frustration. Too much stress. Not enough ways out but to smash herself against the wheel until it broke.

You’re forgetting the core philosophy of cutting. Chill out.

“I’m sorry. You seem like a reasonable person. I could really like you. Except you’re one of the Demiurge’s of this world. Not evil or corrupt. Just in the way. I’ll give you a chance to stick your neck out and help my out of practice swing make it as easy as possible…”

Why does it always end up like this?

    Everytime she had ended up in a situation where she exacted justice against the world there was a conspiracy to punish her with the full force of the corporate arm’s immense strength. It was the alien who had stopped her in the office supply store, or the small child-thing she had met in the call center. All of them were places that had suffered her truest and fullest wrath and showed her a level of violence in return that her bravado could not overcome.

    How was the Baskerville powerful? How was someone who for all the world could tell had not an ounce of strength beyond athletic prowess able to so deftly dodge and dip away from each one of her blows. Each in the series was more severe than the last as the concrete turned into little more than fine powder and exposed piping spilled water across their feet.

    Why was the world so in favor of these selfish bastards?

“You-!”

    Marie’s indignation died in her throat. A gurgle of a scream frustrated and tired in equal measure as Tunic casually poked holes into her logic that she had never voiced. Rather she appended a new logic to Marie’s actions which was for all the world better than what the crimson haired girl believed.

    Because ultimately she had no clue.

    If pressed, and she was very pressed, the woman would lament that her only dream was to see a truly even playing field for all in a world that exalted meritocracy and then only fed those who had already been known to those in power. To remove the line which allowed those incompetent to filter into society and the world with a life of easy luxury and kept those who might see it grander wallow in the mud and blood of their upbringing.

    Except all she had was anger and a selfish wish for revenge. She had a sword, that was to say each fragmentary bit of her, which was both guilty for making cavalier use of her power for selfish means but forever coping by inflicting more hyper-violence.

    The words had brought Marie to a momentary pause as her body experienced hesitation and she failed the precepts of cutting. It was a terrible mistake. The trident flew past her with a soft slice of air and her opponent disappeared with it. Had the pressure increased? Her knees shook with a sudden anxious weight and Marie wondered if she had been triggered into some kind of panic attack. Her lungs were squeezing and then-

PAIN

    Arcs of lightning traced along her torso and crawled into her skin. Needles of hot fury burying into pressure points that sent her vision white. Feet left the battered floor and the circuit was held together by the Baskerville for a moment and then Marie went tumbling back end over end. The sudden spike in power had proven too much and the anarchist was left to bounce against a cafeteria table and then crash through the front glass of a vending machine. Snacked goods spilling over her body still fighting the static feedback of a lightning acupuncture.

    After it was over Marie was left there to suffer in her own misery, a typical state, and composed herself. It was true that she had no clue how to fix the system or if there even was a better system but then-

“I’m…really far past looking for a fix.”

    It was a painful thing to admit as she pulled from the remains of the vending machine, smoke drifting from her now burnt jacket and a quick spittle of blood meeting the floor. Yet also an enlightening moment for herself. She had accepted she was blind in the dark before, stumbling without real purpose, but to admit even those crude beliefs were something to cut away…

    Marie had nothing so impressive as Tunic’s transformation. Hers was the internal manifestation of will as she took a smooth step forward and then another. The ki which had before been such a maelstrom flexing under the weight of discipline was now a shimmering shell clinging to each speck of her body. A red cocoon.

“If the world only respects strength then we are to forever be ruled by the violent and cruel? If the wheel is to be broken then could it not be remade? If one were to have the will to do such would they not have the responsibility? To bring about a better world for everyone?”

    Both hands held her sword and brought it up to her brow. A silent prayer as her power shed light on the ruby edge of the blade and Marie stared off against Tunic for a long and hard moment.

“Heh. Maybe I’m just bullshitting myself again, but I don’t mind that sort of self-annihilation. I just know what I know and the wheel crushes everyone equally. I’m not going to let that happen anymore.”

    The Ki had gathered into a singular point along the blade’s edge and with determined eyes she would let loose her response to Tunic. A single glorious blade bereft of martial principle or incredible dexterity, but a single-minded wave to wash away the world.

What is this pay-to-win bullshit!

    Marie had felt the energy in her hands sing with the glorious symphony of the Divine Corpse, O’breaker of Infinities, in her heart but when push came to shove it had resulted in something so terrible lackluster. There stood Tunic bloody and wounded but still whole with something in her that was what? Pity? A solemn regret over the events thus far?

“...even if bandits were to sever you savagely limb by limb with a two-handled saw, he who gave rise to a mind of hate towards them would not be carrying out my teaching.”

    The words tumbled out of her mouth as she stared Tunic down in the rumbling aftermath of the attack. Ceiling, floor, walls, all of it would be a ruin eventually as cheap plaster and metals gave way under the intense heat and now threatened to crumble inward yet the swordsman seemed much more interested in the younger girl.

“Or something like that? Jeez man…”

    Marie ran a hand through her hair as she took in deep breaths through her nose and worked to control her breathing. Her hands shook from the force of the attack and fatigue was working in her muscles to make each movement just that much heavier but surely that was a mutual situation. Even if she wanted to strike out at the Baskerville she had none of the energy for it at the moment. A lull in combat forced by the everything both had momentarily given.

“You’re too cool. For real. You’re the kind of person whom they make some stupid Saturday morning cartoon about where you save the day and stop bank robbers and stuff. Like seriously. I did all that and you just…”

    Her hands waved at Tunic, the carnage, and what were surely the distant sirens of Ki Police now very aware of the situation.

“I said it before but I really would have been a fan of yours before. You’re the kind of idiot who would go against unstoppable evil just cause any action at all, no matter how hopeless, is better than doing nothing.”

    Arms cross and teeth grit as her feet tapped a staccato rhythm into the floor.

“It seriously pisses me off. I’m angry because the world is unfair for everyone. I’m angry because good people have to suffer because we’ve coiled ourselves into such an unbelievably broken system. I’m angry because the only thing I know how to do is fight.”

    The tip of her sword pointed out to Orange Star Academy and waggled at the collection of buildings and interlocking campus interiors that were a dirty melange of University and High School and incestual feedback of wealth.

“You know what my degree is? Organizational Psychology. I’m a graduate of Human Behavior and Organizational Psychology. My thesis was on…"

    Panting breaths, wide eyes searching for something in the ephemera of memory and-

“I…I don’t remember.”

    The words were a little quiet and sad as her arm dropped, sword raking into the ground and Marie staring blankly out over the campus. A chuckle crackling across her throat as she pressed a hand to her eyes and stifled something ugly.

“I worked on that for six months. I did so much research. I interviewed family and friends and strangers online and I was so proud of it but I…I don’t remember.”

    She snorted and wiped at her nose and eyes with a burnt sleeve, just making a mess of herself and looking a little more lost and angry.

“The only thing I’ve been good at is violence. I’ve never gotten things like philosophy or politics or economics. People harp on about them like they’re all so important but they trample over themselves and others. They never look at each other for a fucking moment and just…just…”

    It was a helpless moment. Allowing emotion and vigor to catch up with the rage and violence and mix into something that had been waiting to explode. Her body was taut, grip hard, eyes distant before turning back to Tunic.

“It isn’t even that I dislike you. I’d really love to be your friend but you…please understand…this thing you’re holding on your back is the greatest evil and someone needs to untangle it.”

    Everything about this encounter was utterly deflating. First she had failed to really do anything to the grand order of student debt other than to ruin a room that would likely be paid for by tuitions that were absolutely exorbitant. Then she had the worst pizza and fry combo of her life, but that was her being foolish and forgetting how bad the food could be if left to get cold and remember it was not actually good, then she had met THE Tunic and fought her and now it was all…

Awkward.

    This was a new sensation though, not the feeling of being awkward, but the odd humanity she had found in Tunic. It was a sad reality that acknowledging another person was painful when they were meant to be all that you hated but instead it was an innocent teenager with a bit of thirst for violence and a weapon a bit too sharp for her own good.

“And sweeping up the jokers that he left behind you'll find he did not leave you very much, not even laughter. Like any dealer he was watching for the card that is so high and wild he'll never need to deal another. He was just some Joseph looking for a manger.”

    It was a bit awkward to recite the whole thing but Marie did it in a deadpan of a voice while the exhaustion began to flee and she loosened the grip on her sword once more. Body loosening with the flexibility of limb and life returning and her breast feeling hot.

“That’s from a song before our time, not sure if you’re into oldies, but it’s about how the systems that be were always insufficient for the people and how they always return to seek out the next sucker.” Her mood had calmed somewhat and Marie wiped away a last bit of snot from her nose and grimaced at her coat’s burnt texture, “Sorry. I guess I’m trying to make an excuse to us both. For some reason the want to kill you is just fleeing my body but we both know we’re diametrically opposed.”

    Her lips pursed and blew a raspberry into the air. All of the bloodlust in the air fled and for a moment Marie felt like she had no reason to do anything anymore. It was annoying and her drive was at combat with her logic and her fragile emotional center then a menagerie of outright contradictory morals.

“The eighteenth precept is about excess heat and coldness being undesirable and to learn to read the weather. Pretty sure that was literal but I’m feeling like there was a lesson for me to learn there…”

“I don’t think I can kill you. Ah actually I guess that was a big bluff on my end. I’ve never actually gone that far before, it's hard to stomach a bit and I think it’d have to be extraordinary to push me to that point.” Marie rubbed the back of her head, “So, like, this was really just an excuse to beat up some kid I recognized as being rich which is kind of shitty of me. Except…”

    Marie finally turned and forced a harden of her resolve while she held her sword at her side, the power oft imbued in it spent but the blade still sharp.

“I’m still going to keep doing what I’m doing. I’m weak now, I realize, but I’ll become stronger and stronger until I can do something and at the end of it all I’ll go retire to Carcosa. Which means that you have to decide if you want to finish this fight or let me go before the police arrive.” she shrugged as if there was nothing to be done about it, “I can’t promise my feelings won’t change the next time we meet. Today has been a real wild ride for me but I think just having a chat with you would be…nice.”

My form…?

    Of all the things to grasp from that spiel of hers it was to criticize her form of all things? It was absurd. Beyond absurd it was a moment of insanity shared between two people in the smashed up remains of a college cafeteria and for some reason it brought a roiling to her gut that took Marie a moment to realize was genuine mirth and it bubbled from her throat into a laugh that was shaking her shoulders and doubling her over like a manic midst attack before she could clench down on the overwhelming half-panicky and emotionally flensed nerves.

“For real. All I got is a book, Ms. Tunic, it isn’t like I ever learned more than karate.” she said while wiping a tear away from her eye, “I, uh, well I learned most of it from a book I picked up. S’about well....”

    Marie felt a painfully awkward moment as she thought of how she had, indeed, spent much of the past few minutes shouting the philosophy of cutting at Tunic and acting so erratic. She had been frayed at the edges but this sobering moment had pulled her back together in an ironic twist of the person she thought to be the source of all evil calming her down.

“I guess you’ve figured it out by now, uh, but sure. Next time I feel out of sorts or get a little crazy I’ll try to remember you and figure it out. Maybe I’ll drop by that big mansion of yours to kick you around again…?” An awkward attempt at humor, “Or whatever. Cripes I’m way better at talking when we’re fighting.”

    She was rubbing her neck while walking away from the rubble, a hand pushing to the cafeteria door only for it to fall flat on its back and the woman to cringe. In this moment she felt the weight of what she had done and knew that coping would be a mess again.

“I’ll…try to avoid taking any advice from Mr. Wilde.”

    With that she melted from the room, a quick and brisk escape from the authorities and a strange new friendship created in the fires of adversity.