WAY Out of place

"Wakey, wakey," Called out a new and more masculine voice. "Eggs and...whatever the hell you people eat."

I could just barely see as the light dulled and the fog cleared. Almost encompassing me was a motley crew of some of the people I'd met only minutes ago along with a few new faces. Great, more crazy people...

Picking out the newer ones I continued my observations. I could see three different people, a young woman, a man, and a much older woman, in that order from left to right, respectively.

The younger woman seemed to be mix of Caucasian and African American wearing some kind of sweater like dress and black boot heels that came up past her knees. She had hair that was pushed back and had a sleek shine to it and wore hoop earrings. Along with that she had underarm holsters with a pair of what I could only guess were Tec-9's. I already liked her. I then noticed her large and rather man-like hands and began to feel a little uncomfortable. Even less so than having just been shot and winded.

Moving on--Next was the man. He was tall, fairly well built, unlike that other jackass who looked husky, and had a face that didn't look all too far from James Bond. He wore a completely black suit and a black tie, and had a black, sleeked back and to the right, executive type haircut. Black, black, black. Keepin' it simple.

Lastly was the older woman who reminded me just a little bit of my own mother. But my mother was only in her forties and her hair was still the auburn color it had always been. Unlike her, who's hair was gray with a bit of more silver color toward her bangs, and was shoulder length, parted more toward the left side. She wore a periwinkle dress with an incredibly thick white belt around her waist and some kind of blazer-like blouse with elbow length sleeves, and had pearl earrings, a pearl necklace, and a flower shaped broach. The vibe I got off her was completely straight-laced and business. And by vibe I got off her, I meant she looked at me as if I was some dog. That sure made me feel welcome. "Well come on. We don't all day to lay around."

I'd only just noticed how hard my breathing was and how much my chest ached. "Sure wasn't like that last time." I thought worriedly. To my far left I finally saw Twilight as she had a very rocky expression that seemed to be calming at the site of my lack of any real injury, aside from a probably bruised diaphragm. My chest ached like hell. I sat up, coughing and looking around. "Alright, where's that German fucker?"

Almost everyone pointed off to the right to that same lab coated man that had shot me, standing there as if nothing had happened. I made an attempt to push myself up and my chest began to hurt more from the movement. I groaned at the uncomfortable pain in my abdomen and eased back down. "Fuck it." I sighed. I opted to simply extend a middle finger in his direction. It takes forty-six muscles to frown, but only four to flip 'em the bird.

I finally realized I was still wearing the vest he'd put on me along with the sizable dent like hole in it. My eyes widened a little at it's site. Holy shit!

Not finding any reason not to, I slipped my arms back into the vest and lifted it off myself, tossing it to the side. I tried taking a deeper breath, only for sharp pain cut through my chest. I held an arm to it, clutching tightly. My teeth ground hard together as I let out a much more than audible groan. I could see out of the corner of my eye Twilight grow more worried. She knelt down to my side, placing a hand on my should and helping me into a sitting position.

Okay, maybe a bruised rib. I looked back to whatever the hell his name was, glaring intensely.

Once I'd taken another breath my chest ached hard, causing me to couch. Right when I was about to say something too. "When I," I coughed openly toward the floor, "get up, your ass is," I let out another pair of coughs, my chest feeling like absolute hell, "--your ass is grass."

"You better hope he's alright, or you're on the chopping block for this." The older woman said with an even fiercer glare. I noticed a good amount of the group give hard stares at him.

He simply threw his hands up in shrug. "Well at least he's alive. Better than the last intern."

Against my better judgment I had to ask. "Okay, what happened to the last intern?"

Everyone then turned to me with not so happy expressions. "Well," The dark skinned woman started off.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I asked once the story had been completed. I now sat on a doctor’s examination table, being checked over by the very same man that had caused the injury. Only the newer people I'd been introduced to were present, along with Twilight. The, what I'm fairly certain is half-black, woman with hands like mine was Lana. She gave a lot more of a professional feel than the other yahoo, Archer. Mr. black all over and wished he was double-o-seven. More like double-o-asshole. And then there was Ms. Archer, the woman I was explained to be Archer's mother. Why everyone called him by his last name, I don't know. Maybe it was the reason his first name was Sterling. Great choice Ms. A.

"Nope." Lana said dryly.

"And you still keep this asshole around?" I looked back over to Twilight who was sitting next to me on the table to comfort me. "You really need to find a different job."

She rolled her eyes with a soft smile, obviously thinking I was kidding.

"Well, since your attitude hasn't shifted in the last fifteen minutes, I'm going to assume you're always like this." Kreiger said in his very cynical tone as he wrapped some sort of bandaging around my midriff. Did I mention I wasn't wearing a shirt? He made a quick glance to Twilight who in turn, nodded. "Well, in my professional opinion--"

He was cut off by a short moment of laughter from archer as he sat on the counter, sipping from a scotch.

Kreiger gave him a hard stare for a minute before turning back to me. "Just ice it and rest for a while, the bruising will ease and you'll be fine."

Somehow I began to doubt he was any sort of doctor whats-so-ever.

"Well the resting will have to brief." Ms. Archer piped in. "We have business to get to."

"That's my next question." I said looking to her curiously. "Why the hell am I here again?"

We stood inside Ms. Archer's office, looking at a slide of South America. "Over the last three and a half months, a new figure in the Brazilian drug trade has popped up." Ms. Archer said as she moved onto the next slide. What is this, nineteen-seventy-two? The next slide was a bit of a surprise. On it was...me. Only clean-shaven, my hair trimmed into a mohawk, and wearing some sort of combat vest and a keffiyeh around my neck and shoulders.

The rest of the group turned to me with curious glances. Twilight included.

"O Lobo do Norte," She continued. "The Northern Wolf. He's an American fugitve who's taking up business in the area of Sao Paolo as the new reigning drug lord. His success is related to application of military training and tactician skills, allowing him to overpower and remove any opposing gangs from his sight. Both the Brazilian and American powers see him as a threat and a very valuable target. Alive or dead, he's worth a hefty sum. Which is where you come in." She finished looking to me.

"Me, what the hell do you want me for?"

"Well, your striking similarities should be obvious, and his military-esque system has made the street members a much tougher issue and he's based in a well fortified den. We need you to infiltrate this compound and either detain him or execute him."

"Umm?" I held up my tattooed arm.

"Not to worry, we have professional makeup artists at hand to hide that...interesting decision." She said, probably meaning "idiotic".

I gave a very sour look around the room at everyone who was continuing to stare at me.

"We'll be leaving tomorrow, so best get to it." She said turning off the projector.

"Wait, I'm not gonna have to..."

"...cut my hair like that." I stared down at the pair of clippers in my hand, standing in front of the bathroom sink inside the same office complex. My shirt off again.

"I know you don't want to." Twilight said sympathetically. "I know it's not the greatest thing, but there's no one else who can do this."

"But why do I have to give myself the fucking mohawk?" I whined, "I don't want to look like a fucking punk anymore."

Twilight shifted in her cross-armed position behind me, stepping close. Her hands moved out from under her arms as she leaned up against me, her arms wrapping around me in a tight hug. "I don't think you'll look like a punk." She said in an attempt to comfort me.

"You sure about that?"

"Of course," She beamed. "why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know." I sighed.

"Look at me, alright?" She asked as her grasp loosened.

I let out a quick puff of frustrated air as I turned around to look at her. Hardly an inch away she looked up to me, her vibrant violet eyes shining with everything but contempt. "I don't care what you look like, I still love you." She hugged me once again, resting her head against the pectoral muscles of my chest.

I could feel the warmth and love just through the layers of skin, muscle, and bone, inside my beating heart grow further. The corners of my mouth lifted as I hugged her with my empty arm, resting my chin atop her head. I moved my head up and away as she moved, looking back up to me. One of her arms released their hold and her hand crept up toward my face, resting on my cheek. "Even if you look like a wanted man."

I could tell that was meant to be comforting and I held my smile, but it was a hard struggle to hold it. The thoughts and memories began to quickly replace the happy moment on my side. Seeds of self-despise sprouted. I hurriedly stomped them out, forcing my mind back to where it was.

I let go of her and she did the same. I turned back to the mirror over the sink, letting out a long sigh as I switched on the clippers. The small grooming item gave off a low buzz in my hand as I raised it up to my dark lochs, holding it only a mere inch away in hesitation. I gave myself a hard stare in the mirror. A battle waging in my mind to make my arm move. My breath was completely absent, I became lost in my own slate eyes. My hand jittered as it finally continued, the edge pressing hard against my scalp.

I forced the moving blade across my scalp, cutting away at my hair and scratching at the skin beneath it. The clippers jaggedly tore through my long hair, occasionally ripping a hair from it follicle roughly and painfully. I winced as it passed on, shaving away the hair in a long and now barren streak. The hair fell away, dropping down to the floor, into the sink and onto my shoulders. I shook the clippers in my hand hard, knocking off as much hair on it as possible. I finally inhaled and exhaled the breath, continuing with the grueling task.

Far off from the epic battle a lone female figure watched as the pair crossed glowing swords in the desperate struggle for survival. Her skin was light and flaw-less, her hair a long and practically flowing azure, and her eyes a mild cyan. She was clad in a dark cloak, the hood drawn back as she peered in their direction. Her job: Watch the one with the dark heart. But she grew confused and frustrated as she was unable to sense what she had before. The emptiness, the anger, the despise. Or the love, the sympathy, and the comradery she had seen before her own eyes. It was absent. What was, was...nothing. Just nothing. As if he wasn’t real.

She could not seem to figure out how this could've happened. Was her power no longer as strong as her sister? Had it somehow weakened? Or was there something else. What she could sense was something much different. Panic and confusion. Near the brawl stood a figure similar to who she was tasked with observing. He was younger, thinner, and much more mild in his actions. But what was most curious was how she could sense his thoughts and feelings.

Who was this? How could she sense his being? And why did he have strange appealing to him? She was growing more confused as these events unfolded.

Kimmy twirled and swung her recorder's beam only to be parried by James' guard blade. He then spun back around on his heel to deliver a swift round house kick, knocking her back in a daze. She stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, her recorder dropping and deactivating as it hit the ground. She stared up to him dumbfounded as he switched off the smaller guard sword and clipped it back to his hip, holding the much larger sword in an aggressive stance over her, the red blade flickering close to her face.

"This is a real fight," He barked, "with real consequences, sweetheart."

Kian's mind went to full alert as his brother said that. "Woah, woah, woah!" His brother yelled as he hurried over. He quickly held a hand against his brothers muscular form, pushing him back. "Calm it, man. You don't need to kill her, do you?"

"No."

"She's just a challenger right? You can just let her go. Part ways and never see her again." He suggested.

His brother let out a huff of breath and relaxed his shoulders, switching off the hilt and clipping it back on his belt. "Alright, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Okay, everybody's cool. Nobody's gonna die. Done deal." He said aloud as his shoulders sagged and his head hung in relief. He turned back to Kimmy, looking down to her sympathetically. "You okay?" He asked her.

She looked down sadly. "I lost."

Kian sighed and leaned down close with and outstretched hand. "You're leaving with your life at least."

She looked up to him, their gazes connecting. She reached out her hand and grasped his. "I won't lose." She hissed.

"Wha-" Kian was cut short from his reaction as he was pulled down, face first between her legs and into her skirt as her legs wrapped tightly around his neck in a head-lock. Kian writhed in a panic as he squirmed, his face held tightly into...something. He couldn't see or breath, his mouth filled with thick fabric. He could barely breath and he was forced into a kneeling position.

Luna squinted hard trying to make out what was going on. By looks of it he was--Luna blushed furiously at what she was seeing from the distance, quickly slinking behind the corner. Was he doing what she thought he might have been?

"I'll have my revenge!" She screamed. She thrusted her hips up and out in an attempt to flip him over and slam him to the ground. Kian mustered all his strength to resist her force, grabbing onto her legs and lifting her skyward. Kimmy yelped in surprise as he stood straight up, balancing her on him. He dropped back down in a kneeling position, slamming her hard into the ground hard. Her hold was released as she hit the ground, lying limply, her eyes lulled and trial of drool running down the side of her mouth. She quietly mumbled the few words she could before drifting off. "James the great..."

Kian slouched, panting heavily as oxygen refilled his lungs. His older brother stood beside him, placing a..hand on his shoulder. "Not bad, kid." He said with an impressed smile. "Guess that means you're in on the ranks too, little bro."

Kian stared up at his brother, breathing heavily with wide eyes, resembling a fish out of water in a sense.

I splashed a handful of water onto my head, running my hands through the remaining hair I had, knocking loose what freshly cut hair that remained I could. I wiped around my mouth as well, having shaved my beard with the rest. My face not exactly feeling silky smooth, rather itchy as hell. I scratched at the short stubble that remained, my finger nails making a soft scratchy sound. I stared on while doing so at myself in the mirror. The thought that the person I was seeing in the mirror and me were one and the same was possibly one of the few things that brought a bit of fear to my heart. My hand slowed up until it finally reached a dead stop, my stare resembling a deer in headlights. I hated being him and looking like that.

My mind started rewinding to a few years ago. To the time I thought I was happy and where I belonged. When I was brutal, sadistic, and loved doing it all. I loved the screams and the and begging and the blood. I'd never felt so satisfied. It was my breath of fresh air and my daily renewal. Now it's my longing nightmare and deepest secret from the word and those I hold dear.

Images began to go over my mind from the years ago. Sounds filled them. Loud and echoing screams of pain, gunfire, muffled gurgles, roaring engines. The sounds hurt more than I could imagine. My stomach knotting and the left side of my chest feeling like it was being turned inside out. Blood and grime replaced the images. Blood and grime on the light skinned faced of a teary eyed man, his face contorted in pain. His black hair hanging down onto his face messily and his squinted eyes as open as possible, water trailing down from them.

I hadn't realized how deep I was in my thoughts until Twilight started talking to me, snapping me out of it.

"How does it feel? You know...looking at the person you're about to kill in the mirror. Looking into their eyes and knowing they're yours? That you'll have to kill them in the end..."

The thought was one I'd pondered a few times. Does it feel weird to want to kill yourself? I honestly didn't know anymore.

At that moment in time everything seemed to fade to a white. I was waking up.

My eyelids eased and blinked open, adjusting to the fresh light I'd woken to. The rooms content focused into view of my hazy eyes. The nightstand, the balcony, Spike asleep in his basket, Twilight's vanity, the top of the staircase, the bed I was in, Twilight.

Twilight.

She was still asleep next to me, nuzzling my neck and using the scarf around it and the cushion of my recently gained chest fluff as a pillow. Subconsciously or not, she seemed happy. There was a lighthearted and loving smile across across her muzzle, her face partially covered by her ruffled bangs that hung down over her face. The corners of my mouth found a hard time not to rise. But there was a lingering thought in my head.

The dream.

The face.

The man I loved like a brother...Like Kian.

My friend...

My head filled with only that sole image. It haunted me the fear he had in his eyes. The sadness.

My horn lit up with a translucent blue aura, gripping and gently unwrapping the soft, black scarf from my neck, not to disturb Twi. I slipped it out from around my neck and sloppily folded it and nudged it over to Twilght, hoping the change would be noticeable. The magical glow around my horn and scarf died. I moved out from under the covers I didn't quite recall pulling up, sliding out from Twilight's grip on me and onto the wooden floor of the tree. My hooves making a soft clopping sound as they touched the floor. The make shift bandaging of towel dropped off, a fairly high number of scabbed cuts around my right foreleg still present, some of my fetlocks stuck to my hoof, dry and crusty with blood. That was likely gonna scar and last for a long while.

I quietly shuffled along the floor and down the stairs into the main library, making my way through it into the bathroom. The change of cold wood to cold tile wasn't all that drastic. My horn lit back up again, gripping the handle to the door and turning it, pulling it closed and eased the handle back quietly. The magic died out once more and I was alone in the bathroom again. Where hopefully no-one could hear me.

I stared over to the image that stared back roughly ten-fold in the mirror. The cracked remnants of the other day remained, the shards that had fallen neatly placed into the trash bin beside the sink. My appearance had changed drastically. My short beard had a little more bushiness to it, my mane was trimmed and styled, but still messily bed-headed and stuck with thick dirt, sweat, and oils. Oh, and I was now much, much lighter a color. The puffier coat twilight decided to give me was a nice change and with the new alabaster color I had a much more friendly appearance.

That may work on everyone else, but not me. I knew who I was. I wasn't the kind of person I wanted to be around. Not anymore.

I couldn't help but think about it again. My friend, someone I fondly called brother, his sadness, his fear, his tear covered face as he...slowly...died.

The image filled my head. It was never pretty to think about. But it was the last time I ever saw him. The last time anyone would ever see him...alive.

I never even got a word with him, not a single one. All I could remember of his voice was his pain-filled screams, his twisted agony, his grime and blood covered face. My own face had grown hot as the thoughts and images swarmed. His weak arm letting go and his head dropping as his last strength faded, his eyes lulling and his mouth becoming ajar.

My eyes stung. I could feel something warm run down my cheek. But I couldn't look to see what. All I could see was him.