Chapter 165: B4 — 35. The Legend of Yasuke

AuthorSME

PoV:

1. Selvaria (Our Big Leviathan!)

Recap:  We learned about Selvaria's social anxiety, a few interests of hers, and how she wants to change to be better!  She's trying her hardest to be the cool, big monster girl that people can rely on!  She also wants to dress with with the girls; I bet Scarlet and Alexa will love that!

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Selvaria waited for the others to follow after Ohan as the man opened the door and went inside; it didn’t take long for him to find the switch and turn on the lights.

The storage space was filled with uninteresting mechanical devices that could be set in the lower bays for use if needed.  Crates with numbers on them and various other supplies were secured using straps, and across from the door was a tied up, beaten and bruised man in his early forties.

He straightened, purple left eye and bloodied right cracking open as the bright overhead lights blinded him; yellow crust from the wounds flaked away when he started to move, hands looped between a heavy-duty military supply strap.

The man grunted something, chest starting to heave a little in confusion, mumbling in Cuban Spanish, and Ohan darted to his side, quick to support him into a more comfortable position.

“Woah,” Galatea mumbled, floating beside her as they stepped inside, “I’ve never seen a human like that, Mom!  Is he a special one with all the colors on his face?”

Selvaria’s tight expression went to Alejandro, who flinched, swiftly shaking his head.  “N-No—I didn’t do that—Jose did it while June watched!  They needed to know what to do to get the boat moving—she ate his…”

He trailed off as Ohan knelt down and gently lifted the captain up, muttering, “Hold on—I’m not here to hurt you…”  he soothed, defending against his bound hands and legs.

The man’s dry-throated mutters pulled at Selvaria’s heart, wild blinded eyes flailing as he tried to defend himself.

“Here—calm down.  Let me get this gag off of you…”  Ohan said, carefully fidgeting with the tight cord, revealing the redness and tie-marks.

The captain coughed as it was removed, cracked throat bringing blood to his cut lips.  “A-Agua … agua, por favor…”

Even Selvaria knew that meant water, and without even being asked, one of the women jerked back, making pleading gestures.

Figuring the prisoner wouldn’t do anything stupid after seeing her casually eat bullets, Selvaria let her by.  “Quick,” she prompted, knowing there wasn’t anywhere they could really go on the isolated vessel.

“Ooh…”  Galatea hummed, floating around the area and examining all the strange equipment; her seal nature soon surfaced, sniffing her little whiskers and getting sidetracked by all the new things around her.

Selvaria let her little baby pet do her thing, pondering what their next move should be as Ohan helped the man understand they were there to save him; she wasn’t good at that sort of thing.  What would Rachel do … Take the ship back and take the boat to the city?  Beat up the bad guys, I suppose.

“Hmm…”  A rumble shook her chest, which drew Liam’s concerned gaze.

Should I leave Ohan to do his thing and just go take out all the other guys?  Wait … weren't there two guys that went overboard?  Oof … yeah, that’s not good, and in this weather … Yeah, they’re probably dead.  Shit.

Her luminescent aquamarine irises shifted to the cowering men and women who were so frightened, they’d wet themselves; the smell was distracting her a little, and she wanted to be at least a little humane.  “You all, go take a shower—and change your clothes … You stink.”

Galatea chuckled, spinning back into the conversation.  “They really stink; I smell lots of other stuff, too!”

Relief and embarrassment crossed their faces, including Alejandro, but they all froze as she held up a hand to stop the English speaker from passing.  “Not you—Ohan, does the other guy speak English?”  she asked, using her staple semi-monotone voice to not come off too emotional.

The man’s throat constricted before struggling to get the words out.  “Y-Yes … Who—who are y-you?”  he croaked.

Nodding with satisfaction, Selvaria stepped aside with the departing words, “Do anything else—you’ll walk the plank.”

She was amused by her light humor but a shiver ran down their frames as they swiftly bobbed their heads; Selvaria figured they’d long since lost any loyalties and would take whatever command someone with power gave them.

They shuffled off, happy to have at least a bit of time to collect themselves.  Liam was the only one who stayed, arms crossed and looking conflicted at her action—Selvaria just hated the smell, and it was distracting her.

Ohan was practically ignoring their prisoners, focusing on the beaten captain.  “Is anything serious, or will temporary medical care suffice?  Can you give us your name?”

“It’s…”  he winced, rasping again before shakily rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth to wipe away the half-dried and new blood leaking from his wounds.  “Iñigo—Iñigo Sallent, Captain of the…”

The woman that had left soon returned, shakily holding out one of the five bottles she’d gathered.  Selvaria took one before tossing the item to Ohan, who plucked it out of the air and opened it.  “It’s okay, Iñigo—here, take a sip of water … not too much—pace yourself,” he eased, helping the dehydrated man with the bottle.  “Take your time to answer.”

Selvaria caught the woman’s shifting glance back down the hall and grunted, gesturing with the back of her hand.  “Shower, change, and come back—funny business gets the boot.”

“T-Thank…”

“Hmm?”  Selvaria interrupted, giving her a critical eye while pointing at the man.  “Bottles first.”

“Oh, heh-he…”  she nervously made her way across the room to set the four remaining containers beside the man; the swaying ship threatened to send them across the room, but Ohan kept them in place by boxing them in between him and the crate.

Selvaria watched her quick exit with Liam and Iñigo, focus soon sliding to her before returning to Ohan to sip at the water he offered.  Am I really needed here?  I’m not good with people … Rachel’s always pretty direct, but should I be?  Should I wait and see if there’s any new things we need to look out for … Ah, Rachel has her ears for that…

She caught the captain’s hard look and sighed.  I’m not like the snake lady … Why’d it have to be a snake lady that gives me a bad image?  I’m not even really a snake!  I’m a super Leviathan—I’m a dragon … way better than some stupid tree-sized snake.

Her eyes widened as a thought crossed her mind.  Would it be cannibalism if I ate her?  Wait … stupid thought!  Don’t think about that!

Selvaria turned her back and stepped past the door to stare at the wall, face flushing a little.  Cool down!  Be cool!  I’m not gonna eat anyone and there are bad people here!  Chill … ocean breeze … a calm lake … What if I start craving meat like that story about Fiona’s sister and needing to eat things?  No, but I already eat sharks and orca and stuff … That’s not cannibalism, though…

“Mama?”  Galatea questioned, floating over.  “You okay?”

“Mhm…”  she mechanically replied, doing her best to get her spiraling brain back in the game.  I mean, if the snake lady wants to attack me—no, snake lady is too polite, snake woman … snake girl to be a little demeaning?  Maybe just snake … oh, that might be good.  Mind!  Chill!

Rubbing her temples, Selvaria took a deep breath and let it stream out; it was always so hard to keep her brain on track when things started to go down the rabbit hole.  It’s so hard to turn off my brain!  Should I call it a hare hole now because of—oof, NO, that sounds dirty!  Okay, game face!

Selvaria returned to the room, rolling around her neck to loosen up her tense muscles.  I can do this!  You’re a hero!  I can save everyone … except for those guys who decided to jump off the ship because they’re way gone now.

Galatea floated at eye level as she entered.  “Ooh!  Mama, is it time to kill fishes?!”

Confused, she caught Liam’s frightened twitches as he pressed back against the crates, hugging his shoulders.  Oh, c’mon!  She screamed in her mind.  I’m not that scary!  I’m a hot Leviathan woman when I’m full of water … not a terrifying sea monster.  Geez.

“Is he okay?”  Selvaria asked.  “No fish until we’re finished—soon, Galatea.”

“Aww… Okay,” she said, turning around to passively enter a staring contest with Liam.

Iñigo took a minute to get down the rest of the bottled water as Selvaria calmed her raging head.  He coughed out blood and spit while trying to work the liquid into his dry mouth—seemingly without water for a little more than two days.

Once he’d regained his senses and Ohan freed him of his bonds, the captain glared up at Liam.  “H-He was with them—that monster … the p-pirates … The rest of my crew?”

Liam broke eye contact with Galatea but was unable to look at the man in his eyes.  “Dead … June feeds lots,” he mumbled in his unrefined English.

“No…”  Iñigo's broken nose twitched and he coughed again, slamming the crushed water bottle against the wall to spay the last bit across the floor.  “She—she said she’d spare the—the crew women, at least…”

The man pulled his hate-filled eyes off Selvaria, but she knew his real animosity was for the snake woman.

Ohan sighed, drawing his attention.  “I’m sorry about your crew—I am.  That being said, you’re still alive right now, and we need to know how hurt you are.”

The captain tossed the empty bottle to the side, grabbing another with newfound strength, yet struggling a bit to open it before guzzling a quarter of it.

“Mmgh,” he grunted, working around his stiff back.  “I’m fine … They needed me to tell them how to dock, in any case—not that it’ll be possible without a competent crew, but she seemed to think it could be done by farmers … idiot,” he grunted, letting a tear fall down his puffy cheek.

Selvaria felt bad for him; for all of them, really, but felt he was placing a bit of that blame on her.  It twisted her gut, yet she could understand why he’d think it.

From what Liam said, most of these people were forced into doing June’s bidding; if they didn’t, she’d eat their loved ones.  She couldn’t imagine being put into a situation where someone told her to choose between being their slave or watching her mother be eaten and slowly digested by a giant snake.

Of course, Alejandro appeared to be a different case.  Evil people would always join at the drop of a hat when someone offered them authority over others.

Honestly, she’d rather her mother live in the hopes they’d both be saved, which was what position he was in at this very moment.  How do we stop her, though … I’ve never killed anyone … Those two guys basically killed themselves.

Iñigo struggled to his feet as Selvaria pondered her conundrum.  She knew some people deserved to die, but by her hands?  For Rachel, it wasn’t even a thought, or at least, it didn’t seem like it was; she just took action and got shit done.  Selvaria wanted to do that—she just didn’t know if she could without them doing something evil in front of her.

The captain’s shaking legs found enough strength to prop himself up, finally conscious enough for his brain to start functioning.  “Who are you—you’re one of the changed…”  he muttered in distrust, vision centering on her.

Selvaria's skin prickled.  “I’m … I’m not like them,” she slowly replied, rubbing her left arm.  “We want to help.”

“Yeah!”  Galatea defended, floating near the man.  “Mama’s a good mom!  She feeds me fish, and protects me from bad fishes!”

Ohan positioned to support him.  “Calm down a little, Iñigo … I know you’ve been through a lot, and this could look like we’re trying to trick you, but we’re really here to help.  We’re from America; humanitarian aid is being sent all across Cuba—we’re trying to restore order to your country.”

Iñigo snorted, half-smile on his bloodied lips.  “Heh, yeah—only the United States people call themselves American so brazenly—like South America can’t claim the same.”

Iñigo rejected the Legend’s stable arm, stumbling to the side to lean against a supply crate.  He spat on the ground, mumbling some curse and leveling a heavy glare between Liam, her, and Ohan.   “The U.S. h-have wanted Cuba for generations … What is this, huh—a hostile takeover in disguise of peace, eh?  Rid yourselves of the thorn in your sides that is Cuba while we struggle?”

Selvaria’s mind blanked.  Wha … How could he think we’re here for something like that?  We just helped him!

Liam seemed to be questioning their motives now, taking a step back to give them a dubious stare, but Ohan chuckled at the response, grabbing everyone’s attention.

Reaching down to pick up one of the bottles as the ship swayed, sending them scattering across the room, the Legendkin opened it up and took a swig.  “Ahem … I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that, Iñigo … Not in the least with the messed up things the U.S. has done in the past.”

He puffed out a long stream of air, ruefully shaking his head.  “I had the image of a buddy back in Chicago when you said that—Ray was always telling me about that stuff.”

Sliding his fingers through his bound black hair, Ohan shook his head.  “He’d probably be telling something about how you never know; the CIA might have paid all these warlords to pop up and start causing trouble so we could have a reason to invade.”

Selvaria didn’t exactly know what to say; she didn’t think about those kinds of things because it hurt her head.  Of course, she didn’t really like the government that much from what her mother told her, but Tom seemed to be one of the good guys.

A hiss of air shot through Ohan’s teeth as he knelt on the floor, placing the samurai sword in front of him before scratching his light scruff on his neck.  “Why don’t we sit and talk, Iñigo.  I’ll be straight with you, and you be straight with me.”

His smiling dark brown eyes shifted to Selvaria, and it took everything in her to not give an awkward twitch in the tense atmosphere.  “Care to join us, Selvaria, Liam?”

Be cool … Why is it so hard to talk to people I don’t know…  Selvaria growled inside, slowly walking over and sitting down.  It wasn’t just Iñigo that followed her thick, blade-ended tail snake around herself; Galatea cheerfully floated down to put her head on Selvaria’s lap.

Thanks, Galatea.

Selvaria breathed out a long sigh, petting the seal’s head and looking between them as Iñigo started.  “What is this—a negotiation?”

Ohan’s relaxed posture helped Selvaria’s nerves; she loved being in the water, not talking to people.  “Of sorts.  We need to clear the air, and if we are going to make a difference, we need to start on an individual basis.  Actions speak louder than words,” he finished, directing the words at her.

The words oscillated inside Selvaria’s breast.  He’s right!  I don’t need to talk but show I want to help by helping!  Thanks, Ohan … Man, I’ve been a bit of a mess lately.  Maybe I should see if I can take lessons to help with my public speaking.

Iñigo grimaced, vision darting to Liam.  “What’s your relationship to these pirates?”

“They aren’t necessarily pirates,” Ohan returned.  “Just as you were forced to put your crew’s life against the general operation of your ship, they have their own people to protect.  Not all of them, but most, I’d say.”

Ohan was her hero, acting as their voice, yet Iñigo's reply made Selvaria pause.

“Even so, I fully expect to be court-martialed for my decisions—for giving up my ship to those that could cause severe harm with it, and face the full extent of Cuban law.  Even if many of these people are innocent, who can really say?  They stood by while a monster devoured men and women to save their own loved ones.”

“You’re not wrong,” Ohan evenly replied, “but there isn’t a law for such a circumstance, and what would you have them do against, as you said, a monster, who was able to single handedly cripple your entire crew?  In this case, I would say it is better ten guilty persons walk free than one innocent man suffer.”

Liam’s eyes were low.  “Are—I innocent?”

Ohan rubbed his chin.  “We’re often our worst accusers.  We’re not here to argue whether you are worthy of being free or behind bars.  Selvaria, Galatea, and I are here to save lives.”

“As a United States agent?”  Iñigo snapped, fingers quivering in his lap, but Selvaria wondered if it was from rage or just his exposure and treatment.

“An agent?”  Ohan mused.  “I wouldn’t classify us as agents.  We were given the opportunity to aid people in need, and we came.  As to the specific plans the U.S. has for Cuba … I’ll be straight with you, Iñigo, I have no clue.  However, let me ask you a serious question as a military officer … Can you guarantee the safety of your citizens?”

You are reading story The Oscillation at novel35.com

The answer was obvious to Selvaria.  Uh, no.  Clearly, these guys have lost all control.  There’s a giant red barrier with literal demons inside of it!  Yeah, no, forget Cuba, the whole world is probably in danger with what’s happening here.

Liam’s confidence surged out of nowhere, face filling with strength.  “Yes—Cuba be strong!  We fight back as one!”

“No, nosotros estamos rotos!”  Iñigo snapped, causing the man to jump.  His frame was shaking but this time with rage.  “Our military fights each other—demons have crawled out of the pit of Hell itself to use us a cattle!”  he screamed, pointing a finger at her.

“Me … I’m not a devil,” Selvaria mumbled in shock.  “I’m a Demi … Rachel’s handling the devils…”

Ohan held up his hand.  “He’s not talking about actual devils—although, yes, there are those in Cuba, too … Iñigo,” he sighed, giving him a sad but hard stare, “I said I’d be real with you, and I’m going to tell you how I see it.”

Picking up his sword, he tossed it toward the backpack that had slid toward the corner, perfectly angling it; landing upright, he called it back, causing the hilt to snag on the strap and pull it to him.  “Allow me to show you what I’ve seen from the documents the U.S. has gathered for this operation.”

Everyone went silent as he laid out a map of Cuba, pointing at various parts.  “So far, we’re looking at the possibility of over a million casualties across your country—and that’s low balling it from projections, and if Camagüey is as bad as they predict, maybe even two million.  Can you tell me how bad Havana has gotten?”

Iñigo and Liam’s faces paled.  “No … No, that must be some mistake.  Two million,” Iñigo choked, “that’s roughly twenty percent of the population—in three weeks?”

It was so large of a number, Selvaria couldn’t even picture it.

Galatea seemed to be falling asleep but she found the strength to mumble.  “How many fishes are two million, Mama?”

“... A lot,” she whispered.

Ohan nodded, pointing at various locations.  “As you can see, the Ciego de Avila province has been utterly wiped of life by what we assume is now occupying  Camagüey.  Our main force is tackling that location now, and Las Tunas hasn’t been spared from its own casualties, but nothing like western Cuba.”

“Sancti Spíritus?”  Iñigo asked, throat dry again as he reached for another bottle of water that rolled nearby as they stabilized themselves.  “There was a force holding out there a week ago.”

Ohan closed his eyes, shaking his head.  “I’m afraid satellite imaging shows major parts of the city have been overgrown by what appears to be mushrooms.  We don’t have confirmation yet as to what caused it, but given the damage, it seems grim.

“Villa Clara, Cienfuegos, and Matanzas seem to be fine from satellite, but so did Camagüey before we discovered some kind of illusion over the entire city.  I’ll ask you again, what is it like in Pinar del Rio, Artemisa, and Havana?  The Cuban forces were pushed back but the General overseeing this operation is unsure of their exact conditions because they’re refusing aid.”

Iñigo’s eyebrows knitted together.  “Refusing?  No—no, we would accept support from the U.S.—not an invasion, but support … I’ve heard nothing about that.”

“Espionage?”  Selvaria asked, eyes wide as she continued listening to their conversation.

Ohan tilted his head, catching sight of the other men and women as they hovered at the door, waiting for further orders.  “Possible … Given the powers Demi possess, it’s not unthinkable that the Cuban military leaders are being manipulated—especially given some of the players we know are in the mix.  I’ve read the report on Relica, and the sorceress tried to control Scarlet’s mind when they first fought in Miami.”

“No…”  Iñigo sank against the crate behind him.  “No, if—if what you are saying is true … How can I believe you?  This could all be a ploy by that snake woman!”  he growled, heat rekindling in his eyes.

Selvaria was fixated on the mind control angle.  How many nations around the world could have their leaders mind-controlled right now?  Scarlet can teleport; although, people like Scarlet are kind of rare, given the global population … Still, there could be messed up stuff happening everywhere.

“Granted,” Ohan smiled, folding up the map again to return it to the bag.  “To prove we are on your side, we’ll restore order to Nueva Gerona with your help, and our actions will prove to you that we want to save as many lives as possible.”

His eyes hardened upon returning to the captain.  “When I changed, I was fashioned after the Legend of Yasuke, a historic retainer of the legendary Japanese Daimyo, Oda Nobunaga.  I’m a big fan of Oda, and will ask you that question again…

“Even if the U.S. is invading, which it might be—I don’t know General Dallas’s full intentions—but if it means the safety of your citizens against the threats facing you—real demons and monsters—is it worth joining hands with the U.S. or submitting to extinction by all of these creatures?

“Nobunaga’s conquest was far from bloodless, yet it was his actions that united Japan in the end.  Indignation is for those that are in power, and history is written by the strong—conquerors.  If a nation falls, it’s always its own neglectful fault for falling behind its neighbors.”

He rose to his feet, picking up his sword and tossing the backpack to Liam.  “There will always be those that hold power over others; it’s biology—human nature—as every other thing on this planet seeks to dominate.  You must have the strength to defend what it is you hold dear, and if you don’t have it, you only have yourself to blame.  A victim will never win in the end.”

Selvaria felt tingles, Ohan’s words resonating within her.  He’s right … I don’t want to lose what I love.  I need to get stronger … to talk to people and punch them in the face.

Nudging Galatea to get up with her, she followed his short walk around their circle, the two men’s frustrated expressions fixated on the steel floor.

Her baby seal blinked, floating up a little.  “I’m up!  I’m up, Mama!  Food time?”

Ohan’s towering presence was like a beacon of crimson light as an intimidating aura surrounded his frame, eyes glowing red.  “If you want to make your own decisions—to be men—then follow me to the helm where we’ll take this ship back.  Not with words, but by the strength of your arm because when words fail … that’s all you have left.”

His flowing braid whipped behind him as Ohan exited the room, walking with a purposeful pace; Selvaria went after him, excitement in her thumping heart while Galatea lazily hovered beside her, still rousing from a dozy sleep.

She could see the set faces of the men and women she’d sent to wash up, looks of awe, wet hair and military uniforms that didn’t quite fit them making them look out of place.  Liam soon brought up the rear, backpack on his right shoulder, and Iñigo on his left—it was time to return him to his station.

Selvaria marched through the halls, watching Ohan’s swaying braid and sheathed sword on his right shoulder; she couldn’t help but smile, and she had to wonder if he had some kind of rallying speech skill because there was a confidence in her she longed to have—in fact, she felt like she could actually talk to some of these people now!

They went floor by floor until reaching the level before reaching the open stormy skies; whispers were being passed through halls, impossible to detect except for her somewhat enhanced hearing—sure, it wasn’t the best above water, but superior to what it used to be before The Oscillation.

Ohan soon became a red streak, and Selvaria jumped after him, hearing each thump her feet made against the steel, but there was no way she could keep up with the African American Samurai.

By the time she made it up the ladder with the others, five men were cradling their bloodied faces, throwing up on the ground, and whimpering against the wall.  Their weapons had been tossed into a pile, including assault rifles, pistols, knives, and a few dried goods.

Pumping herself up, Selvaria turned and adopted a commanding voice—she was like Ohan’s lieutenant!  “Alright, men and women, tie them up and arm yourselves, and make sure to eat a little if you’re hungry!  Eh, unless you’re squeamish—yeah, let’s go!”

Ohan chuckled, sheathing his sword on his left shoulder and hand on his right hip.  “Hold up a second, Selvaria.”

Their little brigade paused halfway to the stunned men, and Ohan directed an appraising glare at the prisoners.  “I’ll give you one shot to join us.  Take back your lives—the dignity and self-respect of knowing you fight for a just cause.

“Will you grab fate by the hair and drag her in the direction you want to go?  Will you join us to rid your homeland of the tyrants and fiends that have tore your loved ones away, or … will you remain cowards, quivering in a dark, cold holding cell to see what fate has in store for you next?”

Shakes cascaded through Selvaria’s bones again—it was like taking another shot of adrenaline; be it just Ohan’s words, cadence, or a skill, she didn’t know, and saw the others felt it, too.

Iñigo came up the stairs as the men dropped to their knees, tears running down their faces as they cried in Spanish; Selvaria already knew by their tone the shame and desire to find their inner strength again.

Ohan took a long, deep breath before letting it out in a slow stream.  “You may feel guilty for everything you allowed to happen … Hmmgh, the things you were a part of.  There isn’t time for guilt—only redemption.  Guilt won’t save your loved ones, and the weapons in your hands will eventually fail you.”

He grunted, brandishing a hand at the guns and knives he’d piled on the floor, gently sliding with the ship.  “Strengthen your gut and find the weapon inside your minds and hearts that can stand up to the real threat—face the fear that woman set in your souls and rip it out.  Stand on your feet, and fight!  Not just yourself, but those that are crying out for your help.”

Selvaria’s hand went to her pounding chest, feeling each thump; Ohan was a beacon of strength that radiated with his every word.  “We can do this!”

Galatea was now fully awake, capping above her.  “Yeah, we’re gonna win and get all the fishes!”

A low rumble shook in Iñigo’s throat.  “Are you going to do this for every person?”

Ohan smirked, turning to face the limping captain.  “Only to get the crew you need to dock this ship; I’m sure we’ll come across the real threats soon.  The cowards holding these men’s strings would never send down their trusted members.”

Selvaria put her hands on her hips, feeling the ire rising in her own chest for their sake.  “Do you hear that, Crew!?  They think you’re all puppets and expendable!  They sent you down here to die, but look at you now!”

“Yeah…”  one muttered, shakily reaching down to grab one of the pistols and stabilize the pile.  “We can take back our land—our families.”

“They have my daughter,” one of the woman’s eyes darkened, picking up an assault rifle.  “Yeah—I saw what she did to those poor men and women … That’s not going to happen to my daughter!”

Ohan gestured to a room beside him, Iñigo’s calculating gaze still on him.  “A bathroom’s here if any of you need to throw up or do your business.  What comes next is only for soldiers … You have something you’re fighting for.  Now, take back control, and follow me.”

Two men used the restroom and a woman threw up in the sink, more than likely on her period than anything else in Selvia’s eyes.  They soon caught up while two more men returned loaded up with more weapons, pulled from somewhere, and started handing them out.

Somehow, Ohan had done it—they had their own little revolutionary army, which used to be their enemies.  How did he do it?  He’s just so good with words—knows exactly what to say…

She walked after him, entering the sharp storm while changing areas; Ohan seemed to know exactly where to go.  The black night and harsh wind were picking up, and shouts could be heard higher on deck, but they had a mission, and she wouldn’t get distracted.

“Stay behind me, Galatea.  It’s gonna get loud, so hang back.”

“Okay, Mama!  Use your big tail again—no, do the big chompy attack!  Chomp!  Chomp!  Chomp!  He-he-he!”

Selvaria climbed the floors with their little band of woodcutters, housewives, and taxi drivers, fire in her gut.  I’ll get more confident in speaking to strangers, but first, it’s time to kick some tail!

Shouts rang out as they neared, and she ran ahead, acting as the battering ram and shield; there was a sneaking suspicion that Ohan let her draw all the attention to give her a shining moment, but that was okay.

Bullets bounced off of her thick scales and half as strong skin, yet she was far too durable for something like this—she had a power contest with a disgusting tentacle monster in the Legend’s Quest—flies like these were nothing!

Using her thick tail, she batted people away, doing her best to be gentle and not hurt them too badly; their soldiers charged after her, yelling and bringing cords to bind them in place.  If Selvaria was being honest, for all of Ohan pumping everyone up, it was a rather quick and eventless charge—at least, until she entered the control room.

Ohan stood in front of her, having run ahead, sword at his hip while staring down a rather chubby dark-skinned man—a gun pointed at the head of a child, and suddenly the mother’s words below started to click—they had her daughter.

“Eso es lo suficientemente lejos, amigo…”

[i.e. That’s far enough, friend…]

“N-No!  Itziar!”  the woman cried, coming up behind Selvaria.

What can I do?  Should I try to shoot a water jet at him…

Ohan’s voice was cool and even, the Legend’s red aura calming into a gentle sway.  “I’ll give you one chance to let her go.  In three seconds, your answer will be made.”

Tension struck Selvaria’s chest as the man sneered.  “American, you know not…”

A blur hazed Ohan as he seemed to appear in two places at once, sword sheathed in front of her, and behind the man, sword drawn.  The figure in front of her vanished, and the gun cut in half, falling with most of the man’s hand.

The man’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth before Ohan smoothly flipped the blade around and jabbed upward, piercing the back of the man’s spine to the top of his head before twisting sharply.  He jerked, body going stiff and a loud cracking noise lingered in air as the girl screamed, running to her mother when the arms around her spread in shock.

Ohan just … took that dude out in like half a second … He’s incredible.

Turning to the crowd that were gathering behind him, Ohan gave them a confident smile.  “The first battle is won, but our war has only begun.”

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