AGG: HSS: The Huntress

AGG: HSS: The Huntress

Commissioned by Blue Flaming Wings and Althero

Word Count: 3501

…

I am an imbecile of the highest order! Instead of action, I reacted! Instead of investigating, I assumed! Instead of asking, I’d demanded! Gone was my initiative, my pride, and my honor! I have been rendered as nothing more than a well-experienced slattern in the eyes of the man I intended to pursue, entirely due to my own failings as an individual. Regardless of my own status, regardless of the truth, I am now, for better or worse, an individual who must be the superior, when I could’ve been a more experienced equal!

Should you have remained chaste, as I’d asked you to, you would not have to fear this consequence.

I bid Lady Artemis to be silent, and allow another her allotted time, because I had no intention of being simply told that I was wrong. My failure was already apparent to me. That is the reason why I contemplated suffocating myself in my own pillow and sheets. Did Li Song’s fair scent linger upon my fabrics? Yes. However, while I passively noted and engraved it to memory, I did not enjoy it. The whole of my being, as soon as our fair, equitable date had passed, was dedicated to considering my self-termination due to my folly.

I awaited aid and advice from my other divine teachers.

But, no one came.

I’ve spoken with everyone, and they say that you’ve made your bed. You either lie upon it, or escape from it yourself, as it is entirely your fault for ignoring all our advice due to your competitiveness with the Heroine.

A rivalry that they facilitated themselves! I remembered quite clearly their reaction to the notion of a Concept of Heroism! It was immediate disdain and intense need to prove themselves better! They’d insisted that I overcome the Heroine in every respect… and only Lady Artemis was against the notion of taking Li Song’s heart for my own! One and all, they were hypocrites, scoundrels, and traitors! This was nothing short of actively lying for one’s interests! May my mother wash my tongue with soap for the following curse, but I cared not, as they were truly deserving of the label I placed upon them!

They were being politicians!

Rotten, dirty, and corrupt politicians!

No comment.

Augh, I want to die! Bring out the guillotine! Call the crowd! Tell them all that I think that everyone ought to eat cake when without a proper loaf of bread! Oh, I miss actual bread. The only thing we have plenty of here is ice cream! See? I deserve to die. I complain even when I have a dessert only the rich have in their pantries in this day and age! I have true, dairy-based ice cream at my disposal and I have no want for it! Headsman, judge, and jury, doesn’t that verify that I am not a human of goodly values and merit and should die in the fires of revolution?

You are being dramatic. Please, stop. It is unbefitting of a Concept.

I shall act as I damn please! They said it themselves. A Hunter is one of the few gods that must consider themselves carefully, as they are vaunted by humanity for skill instead of power. All my powers and abilities gifted to me are meaningless if I don’t train and utilize them myself. I cannot run as quickly as the swiftest winds, if I do not practice doing so. I cannot stalk what is considered impossible to find, if I do not practice searching for the slightest of clues. I cannot kill, if I do not know what killing truly means.

I shall not befit a Concept. The Concept shall befit me!

And, I aim to die suffocating myself in very fine-scented sheets and pillows this day!

At the very least, cease being perverse in your methods to take your life.

Silly, out-of-times goddess…

It’s the only way to go!

Wow, that really was a perverse thought, wasn’t it?

…

Ah, movies. The best thing see when one isn’t off killing countless legions of bloodthirsty flesh monsters bent on turning all of reality into a tumor. As such, I am quite the connoisseur in film. Well, technical film. Film is a product of the bygone age and only hipsters demand their showings be in film instead of nice, crisp 12k resolution, nano-pixel accurate resolution. Sure, there are some old films that are better when viewed on old equipment, but they’re outliers and not the norm. A good piece of software, a few tweaks here and there, and any amateur can use a communicator to turn an old, uploaded film into an amazing spectacle, especially with a good CGI modifier and a little traipse into long-forgotten public domains.

Still, as good as movies are, they cannot drown out the fickleness of a woman scorned.

Or, to be exact, a woman who is a poor loser.

“T-this isn’t fair! Y-you cheated! We both know t-that the only reason Song doesn’t think you’re some nasty whore is because he’s nice!” Ah, there is another reason why I adore Li Song, besides his looks, feats, personality, smile, body, etc. In his presence, the uncouth, sea-born savage known as Alyss, the Aspect of Heroism, turns into a weak-kneed, swooning young woman who wanted nothing more than to be his nasty whore. “W-what!? No! Absolutely n-not! Y-you’re putting words into my mouth, Camille! That’s you! You! Not me!”

I do not turn from my film, a classic, faithful comic-adaptation of a rather great series which ends in a villain’s victory, as I am beset by a completely scarlet, unrepentant pervert. Her words would have greater weight, if not for her browser history, and the sites she frequents every night before bed. Honestly, I was quite grateful that a basic housing unit is soundproofed and private, even if the kitchen and the entertainment room is shared. Anyway, her blows upon my shoulder are weak, just like her spirit, and I gain more strength from her weakness than pain from her blows.

Look upon me and weep, little girl, for I’ve officially dated your wet dream, while he remains only that to you.

You hated your advantage earlier, but enjoy it now. Do you not see how fickle your heart is?

If I weren’t fickle, I wouldn’t be very human, would I? And, should a Greek goddess really be talking to me about having a fickle heart? Wasn’t that a tad much on the hypocrisy scale? Teasing Ms. Hero Worship about something I didn’t want to do is basically me making the best out of my own idiocy, which is honestly a tad hypocritical. But, a Greek goddess lecturing someone about having a fickle heart? Isn’t that too much, especially when I haven’t turned anyone into animals just for accidentally stumbling upon me bathing in a pond? Accidentally.

You repeated yourself.

I’m sorry, I have short memory.

Augh. This is why we all take shifts with you.

I like to think it’s a French hereditary trait to be able to complain to the that point gods would rather exile themselves than spend time with us.

However, exercising my right to protest has betrayed me, for Alyss managed to nab my Communicator from my possession. How she’s able to steal something strapped to my wrist, while I’m only deep in thought, is beyond me. However, that doesn’t change the fact that letting my guard means her getting access to my files and folders.

“How many nudes did you send him this time, huh!?” None. Had I been correct in my stupid assumptions, there’d be plenty sent his way, preferably shortly after bathing and resting from a splendid romp, but that didn’t happen. I’d made a fool out of myself. Alyss, however, was rapidly raising my mood in her utterly crazed actions born of desperation and thirst. She went as far as to actually access my hard drive directly and restore it to a state just a few minutes after our date ended. How she knew the proper time to send such things without being seen as obnoxiously clingy was something I did not know, since it was impossible that her standards were ever met before Li Song came to be, so she had little in the ways of practical knowledge. Did she just naturally know how to properly woo men, or was there more than risqué, CGI pictures of Li Song on her computer? Did she actually have a women’s magazine somewhere in that travesty of a hard drive? “I bet you sent him a whole bushels worth! A-and that you asked f-for some back from him!”

Bereft of my classical movie to watch, I stared at the Concept of Heroism trawl through my hard drive for Li Song’s own pictures. Alas, the bargain of equal exchange she envisioned I’d partaken was just that; a vision. The chaste, romantic, and heartfelt individual I’d dated would never send such things to a woman, or set up any exchange which would require one from either party in a relationship. Quite odd given the day and age, and somewhat insulting to the integrity of my character and my character, but what sort of woman would I be to complain about a man who wanted to know me personally, instead of just my body.

Even if said man’s body was better.

Far, far better.

You are nearly drooling.

Thank you, Lady Artemis.

I did not mean that as a warning.

“I did no such thing. Regardless of your fetish-fueled fantasies of being claimed by a barbarian king as a consort, Li Song was a gentleman during our date, despite moments when I didn’t require him to be.” Indeed, there is a fine line to tread on a man’s side during a date, even with a willing young, eager woman, especially in the Li Song’s case. His attraction to me was clear, so he had to toil harder to prove his claims of wishing to know me personally, instead of wanting merely my body. A regular man would have to balance being polite and appreciative. He had to be polite enough to make up for his earlier ogling… and lightly sprinkle some more politeness to accentuate the sincere appreciation that was necessary during the date. Despite his inexperience, he exceeded expectations quite thoroughly. “In short, we had a perfect date between two strangers, nothing more and nothing less, despite my initial aggressiveness in courting him.”

Alyss’s features, upon opening my eyes at my lecture, granted me a fright due to the displaced Australian’s proximity. Space, woman! I needed personal space! Also, what sort of upbringing and heritage to you have that allowed you to make that sort of face!? Did all the genes from the prisoners sent to that deathtrap coalesce into you, because your eyes feel as though they’re boring into my soul! Stop that immediately!

“Well. You don’t smell like a liar.”

What.

What does that even mean.

Am I missing out on some long-lost backwards saying, or do you truly have the ability to smell whether an individual is a liar? Did I simply not flinch, in the face of your intimidating, soul-searing stare, and therefore considered telling the truth? Or, did you truly have some absurd power to catch the scent of a liar—

“You haven’t had the time to shower since you came back, so you’d smell aroused if you did really exchange nudes.”

…

Nay, there is no power here, she’s a just a pervert.

Indeed.

What a lewd, perverse woman.

<Honestly, it is to be expected of the Concept of Heroism.>

[That doesn’t exempt her from judgement.]

No it did not. Not in the damned slightest.

I responded the only correct way possible to Alyss’ statement and action.

“I am going to hit you now.”

“Frankly, it’d be strange if you didn’t.”

In Alyss’ defense, she accepted my judgement steadfastly and honorably.

I left the Concept of Heroism with a sore wrist and red palm, but took comfort that I’d slapped Alyss unconscious with a single blow to the cheek.

…

Should someone have told me that I’d find entropy given form upon my lap one day, I’d have called them mad, reported them, and wished them well on their struggle to return back to sanity. Arcologies, after all, are a communal effort. Everyone working together, whether they be doing mere maintenance or ensuring capitalism persists in order to keep existential dread at bay without turning to fanaticism, is a must to maintain a high standard of safety, living, and comfort in the face of a desolate, dangerous world. Those who need mental aid shouldn’t be looked down upon, but aided, comforted, and supported so that they might become better.

Still, should someone had told me that I’d be aiding entropy given form to become cultured, and recover from her traumatic past, I’d have abstained.

Yet, here I am, handfeeding the End, of all things, a proper, balanced meal.

Children ought to be protected, but I must admit my patience wears thin with Coda.

Even the most patient of all the Hunting gods in my mind would’ve abstained, too.

Yet, once more, here I am with a plate on my lap, a spoon in my hand, and a pouting, malnourished young woman that needed care and compassion before me.

“Come now, Coda. Variety is the spice of life, and I worked quite hard to make this dish for you.” And, that was no lie. CORE, the secret hand that guided humanity upon the knife’s edge between extinction and salvation, had provided me with ingredients uncommon to us of basic citizenry of the Arcology. Fresh meat, vegetables, and dairy had been made available to me, alongside various spices and cooking wine. The spices and wine were not new. The vertical farms were capable of growing any and all of Earth’s flora, but they were reserved for occasions slightly above the norm. A Sunday feast. Still, as the budding chef of my corps, and with my dream of owning a small restaurant, I could not refuse the chance to both stretch my skills and nourish someone’s body and soul. Now, if only said foolish, obstinate woman wished to be nourished! “I assure you, this stew is far superior to your ice cream.”

Allow me to deliver you from a pointless existence bereft of cuisine.

Eat my damn food!

With all due respect, of course. You child-sized monster.

“I can live on ice cream.” The protest was faint and uninspired, but it was petulant all the same. Coda, by all means, was correct. She could live off of cold cream and sugar for the rest of her existence without qualm. However, that would only be an existence, not living. I insisted, and her will crumbled. It helped that she was kind girl, who wouldn’t look down upon earnest effort, and I’d certainly sweated over the pot as I’d perfected the historical dish. A whole slab of beef, half a kilogram with barely any bone, had gone into it. Worth more than most earned in week. So, it had to be perfect. Coda respected that. I knew she respected that. She knew that I knew that she respected that.  So, she relented. “Okay…”

I did my utmost to refrain from making airshuttle noises, as Coda accepted a spoonful of my carefully created meal.

“…It’s very good.” And, just like all, all of humanity’s sins have been erased, the Chimera are no longer a threat to all of humanity, and everyone has decided to be nice, kind, and abstain from being irredeemable fucks forever. Yes, indeed, all it takes is a single compliment about my cooking for that to occur. What? No. That doesn’t make me easy. I know the difference between a heartfelt compliment and an attempt to get into my pants. I’m French. More importantly, I’m a French woman. Knowing how to curtail courteous cunts is hereditary for my kind. “More please.”

“On your own, Coda. I need to eat as well.” Still, I had to ignore the enjoyment of being praised for upholding my country’s tradition. A lifetime of being forced to eat does not go away on its own, nor does conditioning to love ice cream as it is accompanied by untouched nights. Placing the bowl of food before my benefactor, making sure that she holds her utensils without them escaping her shaking hands, I serve myself a heartier helping away from her sight. Her serving was small, far too small to even begin giving her body the nutrition it needs, but too much food would elicit too many ill memories. But, as slow as her pace was, she needed to walk the road I’d laid before her nonetheless. Thankfully, I could hijack her barbaric conditioning while destroying it at the same time. “Go on. A few bites. Then I’ll help you along, after I’m done.”

“…Only this, right?” The words make me wish for the opportunity for the chance to do irredeemable harm. Vile violence of the highest order, but I comport myself. I smile and I nod and I promise. The fear that accompanies the words, the amount of trust required to have a young woman simply take a few bites of food that tastes good, makes my teeth grind behind my smile. It can only be the combination of my fury at her circumstances, and my continued desire to help her, that Coda nods after staring at me with eyes that can discern the very depths of a man’s soul. “Okay.”

There is determination in that voice. An urge to be better. It isn’t the same withdrawal and fear of her last positive. And, though it was just a single step forward, that was enough to alleviate most of my fretting and worry. I could eat one of my country’s famed dishes in peace, though I knew that I needed to help her eat the last few bites. Coda’s faith in others needed to extend beyond Li Song, preferably downward to the rest of humanity, who couldn’t hope to match him.

Bless his heart, he was doing his best to be perfect and succeeding in many accounts, but he truly made the rest of us look bad in comparison.

“Hey! Why didn’t you blokes call me for chum! I was hungry.” Exhibit A, of course, being the Concept of Heroism. The ideal of humanity as someone who stands head and shoulders above all other humans in times of crisis. Yes, it is the woman with a red palm imprinted on her cheek who just called a dish straight out of humanity’s golden age fish food. “Woah! This stuff must be bloody great if Coda’s wolfin’ it!”

Alyss had her uses though, in her ability to be socially physical but never cause discomfort.  Swiftly, despite being uncultured swine raised in a raft all her life, she calmed Coda further with a smile and a swift tussling of the hair. I’d have endeavored to the same, knowing the importance of positive physical contact when approaching an individual lacking in trust, but I happened to be me. Platonically comforting Coda was beyond my ability, due to my non-platonic associations with fondling and other such physical gestures. She didn’t require that kind of affection. Well, not from someone she had yet to completely trust… or completed trusted. Thankfully, there was no chance of that particular man taking advantage of her, if he didn’t take advantage of me.

Whatever the case, Alyss earned her due for not being a completely useless pervert outside of a fight.

“Eh!? Just one piece!? Don’t skimp out on me, Cammy!” 

“You get what you deserve.”

“It’s a carrot! All I have here is a carrot!”

“You get what you deserve.”

“This is unfair! Give me a little more, at least!”

“You. Get. What. You. Deserve.”

“I deserve more than a chunk of carrot!”

Despite our squabbling, both our gazes were not on one another, or the pot between the two of us. No, it was the young woman who was looking at the two of us with the slightest of smiles playing upon her lips.

Sometimes, some days, I wonder what would’ve happened if Li Song had found us before Coda did. What sort of life would I be living with the Preservers, working with them to ensure the whole of Reality is safe, and accompanying Li Song wherever he needed my aid? I knew, within the very depths of my soul, that I ought to be by Conflict’s side. Alyss, probably, knew the same. We were both fated to stand with him, confront every challenge he faced, and overcome them together.

But, damn any fate that would have me abandon someone selfless, yet broken, simply for power.

Perhaps, one day, I’ll fight alongside Li Song and face foes by his side that will make my blood boil and my soul sing.

But, not until Coda can do more than softly smile.