Shadow of the Abyss

The Lieutenant Commander was horrified at the exhibition of skill Altair wielded. It was nothing she'd ever seen, nothing she wanted to as she watched him take on someone twice his age, as though it were nothing. She had heard tales of monstrous genius doing the same, but seeing it in person sent shivers through her heart.

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"What a monster," One of the lab techs controlling the simulator said. "It was like Altair was toying with John."

Helplessly watching as Altair approached John, opening his palm, Lieutenant Commander So-Ho whipped through the door as the pull of something ancient plunged her heart into darkness. A thick whisp of black Mana swirled around the Prince's hand. And at that moment, the Fallen Angel of Death, Azazel blade flashed, cutting across her neck.

'I'm dead?' she thought, reaching for her throat. When she felt blood, she nearly fell to a knee like so many others, only to realize it was perspiration.

"Hells…" She cried, drenched in cold sweat.

"That'll be enough, Altair." the calm and collected voice of Vaiga said, grinning as she stepped into the hanger. From the moment she had sensed the might of the Vale gather at Altair's fingertips, she rushed over. Arriving in the nick of time to see the boy bathe in a pool of darkness.

Hearing her, Altair dismissed the might of the Vale, staring at his palm. The skin had all but been removed, bloodied red, yet he felt no pain. At least not until his mind registered he was in danger did his face turn ashen. He fell to a knee, gritting his teeth at the roiling pangs of pain, cutting at his soul.

"That power might be a little too much for you," Vaiga remarked, stopping beside him. She looked at this palm, frowning, and then to the Lieutenant Commander.

"I—" she began, only to be cut off.

"I got it from here, Admiral." Fat Mike sounded, levitating off the ground, with a bright smile and a new impression of Altair. "The boy is under me, so I'll take care of it," he said. "I'll have our doctors look after him."

Vaiga thought for a moment. "Alright. He is in your squad. But I want that wound checked thoroughly. You've my blessing to use rare material if needed." She added, taking her leave with a grin.

Fat Mike watched her leave with a salute and turned to Altair and the little pup licking his palm. "Come with me, boy. We'll get that checked out."

***

"He's got a bit of nerve damage in his right arm." Lieutenant Commander Amilia Thorne said through pursed lips, glaring at Fat Mike, who'd woken her well past midnight.

"Will it recover?" Fat Mike asked darkly. The prognosis had sounded grim to his ear. And from what he could tell, Altair favored his right palm.

Amilia combed back her violet hair with her fingers, yawned, and glanced at Altair, listening with an unconcern smile. It made her frown. "Yes… The nerves are already regrowing. Based on what we saw in the EMC, it should only take a week for him to return to normal. He seems to have a healing skill or a physique."

"See. I told you." Altair winced, touching his bandaged arm. "There wasn't a need to run all these tests."

"I'm the one who makes those calls." Fat Mike said, slapping him on the back of his head with a hefty laugh. "Well. For now, let's call it a night. I'm dying for some sleep."

'Your fat ass needs to lose weight, not sleep." Amilia retorted.  "Are you still following your diet?"

"I swear it."

"Bloody lair." Amilia spat, pointing at the folds of fat at his knee. "It's been a year, and you've put on more weight. Don't make me call your wife on you."

"You have a wife!" Altair blurted out, unable to imagine such a large man with over three chins marrying another human.

"So rude!" Fat Mike shouted. "Who do you take me for? Of course, I have a wife. I'm nearly eighty years old."

"But how…"

Fat Mike snorted and left with a huff, flicking everyone off as he floated out of sight.

"Thank god… now." Amilia turned to Altair. " Get out"

"Eh?"

Nearly pushing him out of the door, Amilia yawned. " I'm sleepy… don't come back." she closed the sliding doors with the push of the panel, locking it with a click.

"... There are a lot of eccentric people here," he said, grinning as Ren licked his cheek.

"Are you sure you're ok?" She asked him, peeping down from his shoulder to the bandages. "Does it hurt? I can make a—"

"It's alright, Ren. Seriously. It's just a flesh wound." he assured her, scratching her behind the air. She purred.

When he returned to his room, Altair tore off his shirt and fell face-first onto the bed. "That ability is too much. Way too much. Its proficiency might be low, but its power is vastly superior to anything I've ever felt." he sighed, turning to Ren once more in his long T that stretched to her thigh and the collar around her neck.

Property of Altair

He grinned, unsure why those words made him so happy or why butterflies filled his stomach. "Hey…"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I should come up with a surname? You don't have one, right?"

"No… At least none father or mother ever told me of. But I think it's a swell idea." She told him.

Altair thought for a bit and said: "Baelfire? Silverhand, Valistar, Nox, Black, Rites, Tar—"

"Art," She began. "I think you should pick it. This is something that'll follow you around forever."

The Prince looked a little sad, as he bore a half smile. " yes… yes…" He whispered, slowly drifting away.

Ren watched him sleep and slowly allowed the darkness to take her.

When they woke just before the coming dawn, Altair stood beside Ren, brushing his teeth, with a brooding grimace.

"I look like a vampire." He said, scrubbing his fangs that seemed to have grown in overnight. Two sets of pristine white fangs showed as sharp as a blades edge.

"Least you don't look like a walrus. Can you imagine?" She joked, brushing away as her Prince glared at her.

"Careful, or I might bite you."

Rencing her mouth, she looked at him with a challenging gleam. "I don't mind." She revealed her neck to him, just below her collar. And she glanced his way through the corner of her eye. "Bite me."

The blood ran to his crotch as he stared her down, unable to pull his gaze away.

Property of Altair

When he saw those words etched into the collar, a possessive fire blazed within his heart.

'She was mine,' he wanted to declare, but the words never came, nor would it following the knock at his door.

Altair rinsed his mouth and made for the door to find a tall, dark-skinned man. He had a large-toned build with onyx-colored eyes, decked in a dark black uniform, and the crest of a serpent on his chest.

"I heard you might need help waking." Vincent Wendell said.

"No…" He began to say when Ren's voice sounded from within the bathroom. "Go on without me, Art. I gotta practice my alchemy."  He heard her say as he stepped out of his room, closing it on the way out.

Second Lieutenant Vincent Windell smirked. "Girlfriend?"

The boy raised a brow. "What makes you think that."

"I saw the bed sheets." He said, gently pulling a strand of red hair from his uniform. "A redhead, eh? Not bad. But don't get distracted. Pussy kills. Especially in our unit."

"Oh. Why's that." Altair asked to help move the conversation on from Ren. The less they knew, the better.

"We got motherfuckers from Babel's tower in our group. Some of them got some heavy PTSD. They'll cut your throat if you're not careful." Vincent said, leading Altair toward his platoon.

They headed to the northern edge just outside the Barracks, near the towering wall. The sun had yet risen, but Altair counted twenty-five men and women, slowly falling in line. Twenty-six if he counted himself.

"Recruits are in the front," Vincent said, heading directly towards the helm of the group.

Altair followed, catching sight of Laros, Olivia, and a familiar face. One he'd seen upon his emergence from the Serpents Outreach. Leonie Cross was staring at him with her two dual-pupil eyes with expectation.

"Morning." He said to his fellow recruits and fellow soldiers, but none welcomed his greetings. They stood like stone, poise for their next command.

Altair did not mind as he stepped in front of a short, roguish fellow with a nasty pink burn on the left side of his face.

"Hells! It's hot." The gripping voice of Fat Mike barked, soaring forward with Amilia on his heel.

"Sir!" they all saluted.

And Altair followed.

"Good." Fat Mike shouted. "And I see all the boots are present. "Bet. I've little time today, so I'll be quick: In a month's time. We will have an expedition for the coming sponsors. And I needn't tell you how important that job is.

New sponsors mean more money. More money keeps our bellies full and our cocks wet. " he laughed. "More money also means more equipment and more resources."

"Ensign Altair, step forward."

Taking a step forward, Altair felt himself being looked over by Fat Mike. " Lieutenant Vincent, make sure to give Altair the basics. His posture is nastier than a whores cunt. Now, since you are the last to join us. And because you'll be responsible for medical checks with Amilia. Poor you.

We don't have any other jobs available. So congrats. You'll be doing… Shit. I don't even know. Amilia, what will our Ensign be doing."

Straightening her glasses, Amilia smiled. "Acupuncture"

***

Within her room alone, Ren sat down in front of her cauldron Altair bought for her since her sword and cauldron her master gave her still resided in the Serpents Outreach, alongside a few rare materials that caught her eye.

She sat wrestling with an important decision.

"Base on the money Altair and I have. We have enough to last us about a year if used wisely. And if we add Altair earnings as an ensign, we can sustain ourselves. But the issue is that we need resources to grow: Altair most of all." She said to herself. "If we are to grow, we'll need a large supply. And for that, I need to start pulling my weight.

The only thing I do to support us is create pills."

Her gaze focused in on the cauldron as she sighed. "So for now… I will create as many Iron Bloods as possible to sell. And if I'm lucky, they might be a tier two. " she giggled to herself, clenching her fist tight. "I'm going to make Art and I rich!"

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