“A cough can be deadly, provided you’re sick.”

-Master Assassin, Killsme Not, before his assassination by someone with a cold, via lethal blunt trauma to the head.

Assassin-for-hire, Melicant Sares, was in a bit of a spot. The man he’d killed using his newfangled ‘knife’ turned out to have more friends than Melicant expected, and they now had the bar he was in surrounded on all sides, ready to obliterate its contents to kingdom come. The only reason that the goons haven’t done so already was because of the presence of another man, a shark actually, that even the dead feared.

Grix Bloodshark. One of the Trium Illustricates top Agents, capable of doing anything and with a perfect track record to date. For whatever reason, the shark was drowning his sorrows with enough alcohol to kill a hundred men, and he was chatting up Melicant Sares, Assasin-For-Hire, as though they were old friends.

“I missed you. You. Buddy. Us killers have to stick together, RIGHT?! AGAINST THE WORLD, AGAINST… “ Grix suddenly sank his teeth on a waiting barrel of gin and drank its contents dry in seconds. “CAPITALISM! WE MUST UNITE THE WORKERS! UNITE… UNIONS! ASSASSIN’S UNION! GUILD! SO WE CANNOT BE PUSHED AROUND BY ANGRY LITTLE GIRLS ANYMORE!”

And so the dilemma was clear. Melicant Sares couldn’t shake off Grix Bloodshark, and the ones waiting outside didn’t bring in enough firepower to account for the shark’s presence. Sure, they could just try anyway and blast the whole place and hope Melicant Sares died as a side-effect. But that’d mean sealing their fates as one drunk shark would then find himself deprived of his fun juice. The goons had no illusions about their strength even with a hundred more bodies in their midst.

All it came down to now was a waiting game.

“I-I don’t really-No, I can’t drink that much, man, I’d literally die.” Sares tried to push away a barrel of …something that Grix pushed to the assassin’s face. “I’m not an alcoholic, I drink to have fun, not black out.”

“So am I. I’m NOT an… alcoholic.” The shark suddenly looked the image of serenity as he twirled around the umbrella on one of his drinks. “This? Doesn’t mean a thing in the end, and I only get to cut loose every now and then. SO DRINK!” Grix Bloodshark patted Melicant Sares on the back, though the action ended up becoming a shove instead and the assassin-for-hire found himself drowning inside the barrel that was near him. The contents, as it turned out, was wine this time around.

“OH SHIT! HANG ON MAN, I’M GONNA GET YOU OUT.” The perpetrator grabbed the barrel on both ends and with a mighty pull, tore it apart into splinters. Fortunately, no one else was hurt as all the other patrons and most of the staff filed out the moment they saw Grix Bloodshark coming in. Only the owner was left, and judging from the way he keeps bringing in more of his stock for the shark was consumed, he didn’t really much care for his customer’s reputation as long as they paid their tab in the end, it seemed.

“Buah! Ptoo! It burns! My eyes!” Sares clawed at his eyes as one aspect of Grix Bloodshark’s enhancement came to light. His claws raked the air and the assassin’s eyes paid the price, though by luck the cut had been shallow and if given about an hour or so for recovery, no permanent damage would be done. However, the party outside the bar had other ideas about that outcome.

“Come out with your hands up, Melicant Sares! We have you surrounded.” A man holding a megaphone shouted to the duo inside, backed up by a couple dozen black-clothed people with various arms in hand. “We know you killed our father, you bastard. Come out here and get your justice!”

“That-“ Grix Bloodshark stopped talking as a burp threatened to come out, but the shark managed to swallow it back down. “-sounds pretty serious. Also you got caught? You’re not a very good assassin, are you, buddy?”

“I’m a very good assassin.” Sares snapped unintentionally. “Someone sold me out, and I’m paying them a visit first as soon as I shake these guys off. You think you can be a good distraction for your good ol’ buddy here?” Grix thought about the proposition for two seconds or so before giving his answer in the form of stuffing his face into yet another barrel of… something.

“I figured you’d say that. Solo it is then.” The assassin-for-hire took out a magic stone and crushed it in his hand, using the energy within to power his dormant gear. He became encased in a bodysuit blacker than black, the lines of his body erased and even the shadows that he casted becoming thinner to sight. Then, like a cuttlefish, he began to disappear into his surroundings, blending in until he was practically invisible.

“Nice try, assassin, but everyone knows invisibility is a crappy skill.” The goon squad laughed at their target’s apparent foolishness, but their joys were cut short as knives pierced through necks and hearts without warning. The survivors, now enraged, no longer cared about Grix Bloodshark being inside the bar and opened fire. Bullets, axes, knives, darts, spells, and plasma filled the air, annihilating most of the furniture and furnishings that the bar had. Nowhere was safe except for the liquor cabinets, the bar’s owner sighing as he tallied up how much he was going to charge the Trium Illustricate for damages owed.

As for Grix Bloodshark, he was understandably upset when all of his booze was blown away in the chaos of things. It was not enough to rile him up, however, and so he decided instead to watch how the cat and mouse game will be resolved this time around. The cats in question stopped their attack if only to advance inside and check to see if they’d gotten their catch, and the mouse’s response was to appear behind ten of their ranks and behead each with one fell swoop.

“You fucking bastard!” One man screamed as he tried to pull up his gun in time to catch the killer descending upon him. He failed, and his head bounced in time to see another man, his best friend in fact, screamed as Melicant Sares gutted the man and moved on. But even cats have their day sometimes, and the assassin found himself slowly getting overwhelmed.

Damn it! I knew I shouldn’t have bought that ‘knife’! It was too good to be true with that price. The moment Sares thought about the bringer of all his sorrows, he also remembered something else he could do with the damned thing. Well, I was going to test it out eventually. Might as well do it now.

“Die! Die! Die, you murderer!” A woman screamed as she thrust forward with her trident, catching Sares off-guard and managing to pierce through his bodysuit. Pain erased the assassin’s doubts and he quickly produced the knife from its storage, jamming the object right into his sternum and hoping it could sense the urgency of the situation at hand.

At first, it didn’t seem like anything had happened. Then, as Sares waited for either death or salvation to come, the latter arrived first in the form of a shark. Grix Bloodshark calmly tore through the ranks of the assailants, moving even faster than what Sares thought possible for someone of that size. By the time Sares’s trump card finally activated, it was all over.

“Fucking useless piece of shit.” The assassin muttered as he tried to pry the knife in question out of his chest. “Thanks, by the way. I don’t know why you did it, but could’ve bit the dust back there. I-” Sares stopped talking once he saw the look that Grix Bloodshark had on his face.

“You, old friend, are going to come with me.” The order was simple and was delivered without menace, but the assassin felt himself suddenly growing weak at the knees upon hearing the shark’s proclamation. It seemed he had escaped the flame only to be devoured by a predator. Sares hung his head and gave a small nod, deactivating his gear and stowing back all the weapons he had on hand. None of it could help him now.

The duo finally left the bar, leaving its owner to ruminate on the order of things in the world, and whether it was better to find oneself born to lead everything, or born to bear the world’s weight on one’s shoulder. That line of thought was quickly snipped, however, as the old man had far better things to do.

Namely, sweeping.

The boy consumed his time in the ways that lovesick fools often do: by stalking their love obsessively and throwing caution to the wind. Ever since he figured out she was going away, the boy tried to figure out how to stop her, or perhaps to follow in her tracks, even with how little he knew about the world outside of the farm and its surroundings. And so he did his best to educate himself, not by books or learning in the traditional manner, but by creeping around and listening in on talks he’d be severely punished for were he ever found out.

So far, no one had caught him yet. And so as the boy wriggled into the small spaces between floors, he peered through the small holes he’d widened and watched as his love spent her time brushing her immaculate locks of hair. The smell of food wafted in from the room’s open door, but the hunger the boy had was of a different nature. He had to stop himself from growling out loud as one of the servants walked in and whispered something into the girl’s ears.

“Is that so? Then tell Mr. Selaping that I’ll be with him shortly.” The servant nodded and left, the cue that the boy took to start moving to another room where he knew his love would start her afternoon violin training under Mr. Selaping’s guidance. The boy didn’t like the violinist very much, and it was not simply because his love-addled brain wanted the girl all to himself. The older man behaved impeccably when people paid attention, but whenever the girl looked away or was focused deeply in her training, an all too familiar hunger appeared behind the man’s eyes.

It was disgusting, and the boy wished he could’ve pried the older man’s eyes for daring to even think of his love in such a way. But even with his wild fantasies, the boy still knew his place as that of a simple farm boy; one among many, faceless, and ultimately not worthy of attention by anyone at all. And so his rage turned inward and scorched little was left of the boy’s sense of right and wrong, and warped it instead to a sense of greed and entitlement nobles and the like would feel all too familiar with.

“Ah, you’re finally here, Miss Putri.” The boy saw Mr. Selaping greet his love in that nasally voice of his. The rest of the lesson proceeded like usual, and though the boy loved listening to the girl’s exquisite playing, having to listen to her teacher talking and moving around and laying his hand on his love’s body, even briefly incited fresh waves of rage inside the boy.

Finally, the lesson was over, and though the older man tried to passingly suggest meeting with the girl some other time outside the house, the boy’s love behaved perfectly and rejected the offer, which made the boy beam with pride. Reluctantly, the boy started making his way out of the house, knowing that in about ten minutes or so, a farmhand was going to check up on the boy’s work.

It was unfortunate, but that was the boy’s life. As he felt the cold air outside hit him, the boy shivered slightly, but his heart just about stopped when he felt someone grab his leg. The boy was pulled out in short order and the sight that greeted him outside killed all hope he had in escaping. It was one his love’s butlers, and the coldness in the man’s eyes could freeze even hellflame.

“So, this is the rat that has been scurrying around milady’s person. Truly, a disgusting country rat I’ve found. I’m wondering if it even knows the gravity of the sin it has committed.” The butler put a foot right against the boy’s family jewels, and started pressing down hard. “I think penance is in order, and don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. I will, however, take something from you that you hold dear. The filthy thing that has corrupted your mind, I will remove it from existence.”

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT A MINUTE! WAIT, PLEASE WAIT! ANYTHING BUT THAT! NO!” The boy screamed and shouted as he tried in vain to wriggle free from the butler’s iron grip. Pain started to spread from the boy’s nethers and tears ran down his face, regret and doubt painting over all the memories he had of his time being near his love. But before the inevitable could happen, someone came running into the boy’s sight like a guardian angel.

“Stop that, Mr. Mark! Unhand yourself from this boy!” Her voice was even better heard up close, sweat glistening on her brow as her breathing started slowing down from her impromptu run. Her smell intoxicated the boy and the fact that she was so close, and that she was defending him proved too much for the young buck and with a pathetic groan, the boy passed out.

“This ‘boy’ was spying on you, Miss. He’s also trespassed the grounds and who knows what his dirty mind was set on trying the moment he found you alone. I was administering his punishment accordingly.” The butler, Mr. Mark, explained as he removed his foot from the boy’s nether regions. “Even if you are leaving, Miss, your safety and comfort is still the duty and responsibility of everyone here while you’re still around. No one would be able to face your father and live if we were negligent in any way and caused harm to come to you.”

“Yes, because my father is a competent man in everything except in being a father.” The bitterness in the girls’ voice ran in contrast to her beautiful looks. “As for this boy’s crimes, I forgive him of everything. Let him go and if he comes back again, send him my way first. I might have need for a guard dog on my way to Blood Falls.” The butler snorted as the thought of the scrawny farm boy on the ground before him being a threat to anyone, but obeyed his orders all the same, levitating the boy off the ground and walking off to the farm next door.

“…Love, huh?” The girl thought as she saw the boy disappear from sight. “What a silly thing to fight for.”

“Ruby, Ruby, red and groovy. Don’t you want to party, don’t you want to party? I got some molly, we’ll shoot some holly, make it jolly, don’t be pouty, make it a party!” A woman sang as best she could inside the dingy karaoke room, while a ruby and the crown it came with watched her with… well, nothing, but if the two things were alive, they’d say they watched her with fear and a considerable amount of cringe shared between them both.

“Uh, uh huh, and let’s see that score… 45?! Bullshit!” The woman slammed the mic to the floor, which bounced off surprisingly with no worse for wear. Without bothering to check how much time she had left, the woman stormed off and went outside, the ruby and crown safely tucked underneath her coat. The receptionist thought better than to greet the woman, and simply sent her on her way with a polite bow.

“Fuck, what does it take to get a fencer in this city that’s not a complete pussy?” The woman complained loudly as she walked with no real destination in mind. “I thought I had a real gem on hand, but nobody’s buying this piece of shit. All of them lose their balls the moment they see it.” In her frustration, the woman didn’t watch where she was going and collided with a veritable fortress of a man.

“Hey, watch where you’re going! Moron!” The woman told the man off, who looked at her with an inscrutable expression before meekly looking away. The two parted soon enough, though a third party took notice of the woman’s grievances. Judging from the mischievous smile they had as they jumped off the nearby building’s roof, their intentions with the woman couldn’t be anything good.

Whether from habit or intent, the woman’s feet took her to a walled-off private cemetery, belonging to some important family whose names have faded to memory. She slipped through the rusted gates and made a beeline straight to the sole surviving tree, whose shade made everything looked like night under its shadow. The woman spotted what she was looking for and sat down on it, eyes scanning the graves that came as a pair to the bench she was sitting on. Once, there were names inscribed on them, but now only scratches remained. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a simple drag across the grave’s surface.

“Hello, Mom. Hello… Mother.” The loathing the woman held came as clear as the smoke she huffed towards the way she came. “It’s me, your fuck-up daughter, or son, if someone had their way. But nope, I got tits! No balls, and I’m still fucking shit up. How’s that for success, hmm? I know you’re just dying to know all the details, but I’m not telling you a single thing. Nope!”

The graves were silent and so was the rest of the cemetery. A rare peace to be found in Blood Falls, and the woman knew this. It was why this was one of her most favorite place visit, even if coming over came with some baggage. She sat there, waiting for minutes to trickle pass like the ashes of her cigarette, and when not even nicotine could satisfy her, she turned to her other weakness.

“I… miss you. Even you.” Rage surfaced even with the woman’s best efforts, though now it was clouded behind memory. “I talk and act like I know how the world works, and how no one should fuck with me, but it’s tiring. It’s a balancing act and no one’s impressed, no matter how many things I juggle at once. AND THEY ALWAYS WANT MORE!” The woman slammed her fist against the grave’s surface and winced as stone beat flesh.

“And it doesn’t even end when you die.” The woman said with no small amount of irony to the grave before her. “The two of you got out before they made death irrelevant, so I guess that’s one more thing your generation has that this one doesn’t have. The freedom to rest.”

The woman ignored the state of the ground and laid down besides the grave, feeling tears well up before she could stop them. She let them fall only for a bit before wiping them away, standing up and cleaning herself as well. She took out the ruby and crown and put them back together, looking at the combined item with a look between annoyance and disbelief. Finally, she sighed and decided to get it over with and gave herself permission to do one stupid thing with her stolen goods.

But one bright pink flash and a shockwave later, the woman would find herself regretting that action, as she found that her head and the crown had somehow fused together, with now the gem taking a spot in the middle of her forehead like a burning, third eye. She cursed her luck and ran off from the graveyard, leaving behind a snuffed out cigarette.

Bad luck has a way of sticking with people. It mocks and belittles all, taking pleasure where it can off seeing the downtrodden crushed and the lonely abandoned. And these traits came front and foremost from the shadow of Aath Lazit, the luck goddess who really should have been a God of Laziness. Her curse was all too happy to torment the goddess’ son, and saw with glee as the Retribution Fields gave the godling the welcome he deserved.

Ah, but then things started to go sideways. Talks of butchery came, and given its influence on Micha Ostor’s fate, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that it was carved out of the godling’s body and separated into an entity all to its own. This division brought uncertainty to the bad luck’s identity, if only because it came into being as the opposite of Micha Ostor’s good fortunes. Without him, what was the parasite supposed to be?

And it wasn’t like people were lining up to touch it either, not once they realized what its true nature was. They ruled out destruction soon enough and then came the topic of containment, concealment, and ultimately, banishment from sight and memory. It was the ultimate bad end for bad luck and it disliked such an ironic twist of fate, at least when it got the raw end of the deal.

It needed to get out, and it needed someone gullible enough to fall fo its lies. Someone stupid, but so stupid that they mess everything up. Someone hated by most of everyone, and with no support structure to speak of. Orphaned, if possible, or completely hated by their parents. A complete disappointment really, a screw-up, a total waste of space and-OH. It’s just describing Micha Ostor all over again, isn’t it? He was the perfect host, in a way, being so inept and yet so sturdy that no real damage lasted.

Oh well, it could afford to wait. Perhaps someday that fool would be remade and it, at last, will once again be at the helm of the world’s most entertaining ride. Until then, it’ll try its best to spread what little influence it has and grow. They really shouldn’t have let it rest against something, not even on the floor. For now, its minions consisted of bugs and the odd rodent or two, but soon, it will command dragons, beasts, and even demons!

Oh the possibilities! So much power to be had, and what fun it will have with them. It will destroy everything first, then remake them in its own image. No one will have a good time, and what little fortune anyone has will be used to crush the happiness of everyone else. It will perfect! A glorious utopia for bad luck, and it will all come true soon. Yes, as soon as time passes and no one notices what’s going on.

Perhaps it should come up with a name in the meantime, though. It’s growing quite tiresome to refer to itself with such a limited vocabulary. Though it loathed to use the name Aath Lazit had called it during its conception. Who even calls their curse “Fuzzy Wuzzy”? It’s madness! It is most assuredly not fuzzy or wuzzy in any way. It should be feared! Respected! Given enough space to move without bumping into someone else! Maybe even a little bit more than that in case it wanted to dance. It won’t, but the sentiment would be nice!

Alright, back to the name. It needs to be easy to remember, so it should be a one word kind of name. And it needs to have few syllables, so people can scream it in fear without difficulty. Probably should be a spoke-only kind of name, with a frightening symbol used instead when its presence is written about. Yes, it’s name should be-