The rain fell. That's it. It simply fell. It wasn't pouring, nor was it drizzling. It simply rained, the type of rain that faded into the background until you never knew it was there. You couldn't feel the drops, but you could feel it raining. It was an odd type of rain, that only seemed to fall when you were in some way sad.
That fit perfectly with him. He sat in a faraway tree ten feet from the ground, straddling a bough with his back against the trunk. One leg was lifted up so that his arms could rest on his knee as he stared through the gaps in the canopy. The sky was a pallid shade of gray, a blank canvas that had its painting ripped off too soon. He stared up at it blankly, hoping for some reprieve that wouldn't come. Every now and then, he would bang his head lightly against the trunk, to remind him that he really was there, and this wasn't all some strange, vivid dream.
He wore only a long-sleeved baseball t-shirt and jeans, despite the chill in the air. His name was Cryo-Wolf. Cryo for short. Well, technically, his real name was Scott Wolfman, but he never went by that anymore. It was a long story that involved house fires, vampire hellspawns, and the death of his parents. In his human form, he would have bronze glasses covering chocolate brown eyes, with hair of the same chocolate pallor maneuvered into a faux hawk. But Cryo had more than one form.
Cryo was a werewolf. Well, not a werewolf technically. More like a synthetic, man-made werewolf created in a military super-soldier project by accident. Again, long story. But there he sat, brown fur coursing over his body, blue tattoos criss-crossing the length of the fur. His hair had grown into a shaggy mop that extended to just past his ears, which themselves had grown more wolf-like along with his nose. His eyes had changed into a vibrant bluem the same as his tattoos. His tail flicked nervously, like it did whenever he was deep in thought, or when he was waiting for the next episode of Power Rangers.
"Are they still there?" He spoke to no one in particular.
Below him, two figures stood. Well, one stood, the other sat. The one who stood, the boy, faced of into the distance, focusing anywhere but the sight before them. He was about Cryo's size, with his arms crossed over his chest. He wore black converse with baggy black jeans, as well as a bright blue zip-up hoodie that was two sizes too big, a bio-hazard symbol adorning the front. The bagginess of his clothes made him appear bigger than he actually was. He was actually quite thin, but strangely muscular at the same time. He wore a dark gray billed stocking cap over his jet black hair, the ends of which were dyed the same blue as his hoodie. A sweep of his hair fell below the cap, covering his left eye. He had a sharp, angled chin that anyone would fall for, that is, if they hadn't already seen his dashing blue eyes that seemed to glow against his light skin. A pair of headphones hung around his neck, Bodies by Drowning Pool blaring from the speakers. That was Bruce. One of Cryo's best friends. He didn't talk very much. He was more of the musical type. To put it simple, he was a fairly normal teen until he listened to his music.
The girl sat with her knees lifted to her chest, facing the large crowd that had amassed on the opposite end of the meadow that lay at the foot of their hill. She wore purple sneakers and black skinny jeans, and a black and purple striped zip-up hoodie. Her raven black hair striped with violet was pulled back into a ponytail that rested over her right shoulder. She had her hood pulled up over her head. Her round, angelic face seemed to be carved from white marble, both due to its color and its sheer perfection. Her eyes were open wide, her strangely mesmerizing violet eyes literally glowing as opposed to Bruce's, which only had the appearance of glowing. Every now and then, her lip would quiver. A black messenger bag hung from her shoulders, its contents forever a mystery until she pulled something out of it. That was Ghoul, real name Verona Darkmage. Another of Cryo's best friends. Her nickname said everything about her.
"Yup." Bruce said, not even looking at the crowd of people. "Still there."
Cryo lolled his head to the right, seeing the ruins of statues sticking up through the crowd. He recognized some of them, a fact Cryo wasn't too proud of. It was how he'd been able to find the place. It was the old Vine Villians headquarters. Cryo had once been a member. Well, not Cryo, exactly, but the beast within him. It was a dark time he didn't like to bring up. But he couldn't help but think of it, when he remembered why they were here. "Then he's really dead.?" Cryo asked, in the halfhearted, distracted tone as before. Him. DC. One of Cryo's past acquaintances. No. Not acquaintance. Friend.
Ghoul mumbled something unintelligible that Cryo took for affirmation. They had been passing through when they got wind that he'd died. Cryo had dropped everything and came here. He was the only one who knew where to go. They all agreed they didn't want to attend the funeral. Instead, they'd watch from afar. They shouldn't be in that crowd anyways. All of those people new the DC that died. But not Cryo. Bruce, Ghoul, and Cryo remembered the DC that lived. They didn't know what he was like when he died. If they went into that crowd, they'd learn what he was like. And they didn't want their memory to change.
Cryo smirked with nostalgia. "I wonder what power he had? I still remember when he stole the powers others." He giggled, remembering the time DC had borrowed Cryo's abilities and subsequently suffered from a wicked case of fleas for a week.
"He knew a fair amount of dark magic." Ghoul piped in, finally at a discernible pitch. "I can feel its strength from here." Ghoul knew a thing about magic. Ghoul was a ghost. Not only that, but she was a witch as well. Oh, and a daughter of Hecate, Goddess of Witchcraft and the Supernatural. If she was sensing some serious dark mojo, then it was big. That was something Ghoul and Cryo had in common. They each had a god for a parent.
Cryo pulled his gaze away from the crowd, instead staring off into the distance. He held out his hand, and droplets of rain fell from the surrounding leaves, forming a ball of swirling water above his palm. Being a Son of Poseidon had its advantages when it rained. He stared into the waters for a while, thinking. He heard the song still blaring from Bruce's speakers and looked to him.
Bruce knew Cryo's question without even having him ask it. There were so much alike in that regard. Ghoul and Cryo were the best of friends. Each one either complemented the other, or their personalities synced up. With Bruce, it was different. They were complete opposites, almost, but that's what made their connection strong. They were two grapes of the same vine, but Bruce was the sour one, and Cryo was the perfectly ripe one. Bruce turned, facing the same direction as Ghoul. "It was DC's favorite song." He said to Cryo. "He was always the metalhead when I need one. I could go to him whenever I needed a good headbang." It was a marvel for Bruce to talk this much. "Sorry, dude." Bruce said, sensing Cryo's perturbed gaze, "You were always my emo screamo alternative bud, anyways."
Cryo had to smile at that. His friends always made him feel better, especially these two. Cryo looked closer at Bruce. Stoic and taciturn, he never talked nor did he ever have a facial expression, pretty much, which led many to the conclusion that he had no emotions. Hell, even Bruce said that often. But Cryo knew better. His face was emotionless as stone, but Cryo saw the meaning behind his eyes. They glistened, as though thoughts were flying behind them. Bruce was taking this as hard as Cryo and Ghoul. He just didn't show it.
Cryo's ears twitched as he heard someone speak at the funeral. Calling people fakes and such. Cryo turned his head and growled, baring his fangs. Not everyone there wanted DC dead. Whoever the hell this guy was, he was obviously drunk or something. Still, Cryo couldn't stand it.
"Easy there, big guy." Bruce said, turning to flash Cryo a look.
Cryo let his growl die down, but he still held his grudge. Someone had insulted his friend. That was the one thing to get on Cryo's nerves. He looked back at Bruce. Their gazes met, and Cryo nodded in agreement. He laid his hand upon the bough of the tree, and, using his acrobatic prowess lifted his himself into a one-handed hand stand. shifting his weight, Cryo swung down onto the ground, landing on his haunches beside Ghoul. Ghoul turned and smiled the best she could in her state. Cryo reciprocated the best he could as well.
Cryo stood, still bending the ball of water in the air. "Let's do this." He said. Ghoul nodded up at him, standing up with his offered hand.
Ghoul opened her messenger bag and brought out a mangy old book. The leather was cracked with age, and the once golden buckle was bronzed with rust. This was her grimoire, the book from which she drew her most complex and difficult spells. She waved a hand over the buckle and it flew open. Ghoul turned to a specific page and nodded to Cryo to begin.
He knelt down by the base of the tree and began digging with his claws, forming a small hole in-between two roots. He stood, stepping back. He held up the ball of water, and extended his other hand to the rain outside the tree's cover. A few drops flew from their intended path and added to the ball's mass. Once it was of an appropriate size, Cryo began molding it in mid-air, changing certain parts to ice while still keeping it fluid. When he was done, he let the finished product drop into his open palm--7 inch tall statue of DC himself, for remembrance. Channeling an extra bit of power into the ice, Cryo willed it never to melt, but instead to spread the cold outward, which would in turn keep it frozen. He knelt and lay the statue in the hole.
Bruce stepped forward, bringing the objects he'd gotten out of Ghoul's bag. He knelt and produced a stack of about five CDs. All of them were DC's favorites that Bruce was giving up from his own collection. Sure, he had all of the songs still on his iPod, and that's what he used most of the time, but the CDs were symbolic. He placed them in the hole beside the statue.
Ghoul extended her hand toward her bag, her other hand still holding the grimoire. her eyes glowed pinkish-purple, and an object floated from her bag. It was a small, palm-sized stone shaped almost like an oval. It was a stone Ghoul had prepared before they arrived at the burial site. It was a spell she had found in the grimoire and made sure to remember it. She had carved some runes around the edge of the stone, and had later poured all of her memories of DC into it, including the first time they met and all of the good times they shared. The stone now glowed with a slight shine that signified the memories' presence. It was a common ritual, attaching one's memories to a physical object to make sure they're never forgotten. It floated from her bag into the hole along with the other objects.
Then the three of them reached into their pockets and pulled out a small mechanical device, akin to a walkie talkie, with the letters NAO imbued over the speaker. They had kept their NAO communicators. The three of them were on the team with DC. Ghoul's eyes glowed once more and all three communicators floated into the hole. Ghoul nodded to Cryo, who then covered the hole up.
Cryo and Bruce stood on either side of Ghoul. Dropping her eyes to the mystical runes written on the pages, Ghoul began to chant in an ancient language with her hand extended to the covered hole, and the wind around the tree picked up. Her words mingled with the rustling leaves, and soon grass began to grow over the disrupted earth, making it seem as though it had never been disturbed in the first place. Then, a small bud poked through the ground over the spot where the hole was. It grew taller and sprouted leaves, until a tall black rose stood, its dark bud blooming fully and lusciously.
Ghoul uttered the final word, and the incantation was complete. Ghoul shut the grimoire and lowered her hand, walking over to the flower. she cupped the bud in her hand and sniffed its aroma. Smiling, she said, "It's done." She stood, turning to the boys. "The rose won't die, as long as the memory that spawned it stays alive."
"Good. That won't happen." Cryo said.
There was a pause of silence, filled by the falling raindrops. Bruce spoke up. "We'll be in the car, bud." Bruce said, putting his arm around Ghoul and walking toward the rain.
Cryo was about to follow when he froze. He breathed in a scent he hadn't smelled in forever. He spun, looking closer at the crowd. She was here. Kiara. He almost cried. He hadn't seen both Kiara and DC in forever, and now one was dead and the other was within reach. He wanted to run up to her and hug her, he'd missed her so. He took a step to run towards the crowd, and he felt a firm grip on his shoulder, from a hand that never failed to stop him in his tracks. He looked back to see Bruce, his eyes more serious than usual. He shook his head firmly, and as he did, Cryo felt a hand slip into his own. He turned his head to see Ghoul looking up at him. "It's not worth it." she said. She'd sensed Kiara as well. "We can't involve ourselves, Cryo." Bruce patted him hard once more on the shoulder and turned, flipping his hood up and walking towards the rain. Ghoul stood on her tiptoes andwrapped her arms around Cryo's neck, burying her head in his shoulder. Cryo reciprocated, engaging in the hug he knew he needed. "I miss them all too." He heard Ghoul whisper. She stepped back, blinking away the tear that rolled down her cheek. she nodded and gulped, turned and meeting up with Bruce. He wrapped his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder, and together they waited for Cryo.
Cryo looked back at the crowd. With great strength, he pulled himself away and stepped toward the rose. He knelt, touching the rose gently with his claw. He didn't know what DC was in terms of beliefs, or even if he had any. But Cryo had them. He muttered some words in ancient Greek, wishing DC's spirit safe passage through the Underworld. Cryo then took his claw and scratched out 'DC' on the tree trunk, just above the rose. Cryo stood, looking down at their makeshift memorial. The new DC would have his grave, and the DC they remembered would have his. He wouldn't be forgotten, and when Cryo thought that, he saw the rose bloom a bit more. "Goodbye, DC." Cryo whispered to the wind, hoping it would carry the message to its rightful recipient.
"Let's go, leg humper." Cryo heard Bruce say. Cryo couldn't help but smile and DC's nickname for him. He looked to his two friends and nodded. They all stepped into the rain, walking down the hill to the road, where Cryo's car, Areion, was parked. Bruce and Ghoul had their hoods up, Ghoul snuggled close to Bruce, but Cryo let the rain fall on him. It reminded him that everything was real, as in these cases, he often liked to think everything wasn't. Cryo opened the door to his white Buick Skylark with blue racing stripes, and Bruce and Ghoul piled into the back seat.
Cryo sat down in the seat, looking over to Simba, his dog, in the passenger seat. Simba slicked his ears back and leaned in to sniff Cryo like he did alot. "I'm fine, buddy." Cryo said. Simba wagged his tail, his ears once more returning to their upright positions.
Just then, Cryo felt his pocket vibrating, and Be Prepared from the Lion King filled the cab. Cryo pulled out his phone and slid it up, pressing the phone to his ear. "Jag." He spoke into the mouthpiece.
"'Sup, Furball?" Jag spoke. Jag was their techie, put simply. He was a Son of Dionysus that happened to be very skilled in computers. He called Cryo and the gang every now and then to tell them some information they might want to know, give them a certain mission, or talk to Cryo about the latest Pokemon news. He was just as nerdy as Cryo was, with an intelligence to match. "How'd it go?"
Cryo nodded. "Fine." He turned the ignition and Areion roared to life, revving with pent-up power. Cryo put it into gear and pulled out of their spot, beginning to drive down the rain-plagued backroad. "What have you got for us?"
Log in to comment