I want to thank M Smith for joining my Patreon. I would have liked to upload a chapter of the fic he follows, but since I don't know how, all I can do is thank him through this spam.
Okay, I used the first line so you can read it. If it's not too much trouble, could you go to my Patreon and donate for my breakfast? It's not an obligation, and I won't stop uploading; I'm just asking for a little help. Obviously, the Patreon is about three chapters ahead, and if someone donates, I'll make it five chapters ahead. Please be kind. Support this poor soul.
https://www.patreon.com/c/Panoli
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The early morning hours enveloped the city of Kuoh in a blanket of absolute silence. In the "Saturn" convenience store, peace reigned for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.
Upstairs, Asia Argento slept soundly in her room, hugging her pillow with a serene smile she hadn't worn in years. Downstairs, in the cold back room of the warehouse, Raynare and Kalawarner shared a couple of thin mattresses, fast asleep from sheer physical exhaustion after mopping and organizing shelves under the threat of being burned alive.
And in the main room, Mittelt fulfilled his new and humiliating official role: being the sleeping teddy bear of the "Discipline Demon".
The little blonde Fallen Angel was curled up under the blankets. Yugo Hano, before getting up, had been holding her around the waist, using her as a thermal anchor. Mittelt had discovered that if she didn't move and breathed slowly, the monster wouldn't kill her. In fact, his demonic body heat was strangely comforting. Now, she slept peacefully, letting out soft snores as she hugged the sleeve of an empty shirt the professor had left there so as not to wake her.
Yugo was not in bed.
The history teacher, dressed only in gray sweatpants and a tight black T-shirt, stood on the flat rooftop of the building. The icy three o'clock breeze ruffled his hair.
He gazed up at the city's twinkling lights. His mind was clear. Reincarnation as a Sona Pawn had healed his lungs, but there was a different cancer he needed to remove before the supernatural world would come knocking again.
He raised his left arm. The black plate of the recalibrated Omnitrix reflected the moonlight.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he pressed the side buttons. The green hologram was projected into the icy air. Yugo turned the dial, passing over the red colossus, the giant dinosaur, the manta ray, until the disc stopped.
The spectral silhouette, hunched and ragged with a single eye peeking out of a crack, floated in the hologram.
Ghostly. The Ectonurite. The parasite.
"I know you're awake," Yugo murmured in the solitude of the rooftop. His voice was flat, devoid of fear. "And I know you're listening. You came out when I forced the system, and you liked it. But I'm not going to let a software glitch dictate when and how I fight. If we're going to share this body, let's make the rules clear."
Yugo didn't wait for a response from the clock. With chilling calm, fully aware of the monster he was about to unleash in his own brain, he smashed the dial.
¡FLASH!
The flash was not emerald green, but a cadaverous, cold, and oppressive gray.
Yugo's body heat evaporated instantly. Gravity ceased to affect him. His flesh turned to smoke, shadow, and ectoplasm. A shroud of grayish, stitched dead skin covered his form, and a single purple-pink eye opened in the middle of his face, tearing through the fabric.
Ghostly, he floated one meter above the concrete rooftop.
But this time, there was no deranged scream or maniacal laughter dominating the outside world. Instead, the battle moved inward, to a dark and twisted mental landscape where the two consciousnesses collided.
"Hahahahaha! You let me out!"
Zs'Skayr's voice echoed in Yugo's skull like a broken echo in an empty crypt. The Ectonurite tried to seize control of biology, extending its intangible claws to taste the terror of the outside world. It wanted to descend to the first floor. It wanted to see the faces of the Fallen Angels writhing in fear.
"Stop," ordered Yugo's mental voice, with the force of a steel anvil.
In his own subconscious, Yugo was no fragile human. He was the amalgamation of ten years of torture, blood, and pain. He built a mental wall of pure discipline and apathy, crushing the alien's sadistic instincts against a wall of sheer willpower.
"You... Weak flesh!" hissed Ghostfreak, his purple eye twitching with rage. "You cannot contain me forever! I am darkness! I am terror!"
"You're nothing more than a tool on my wrist," Yugo retorted with utter coldness, his inner voice echoing with his own madness. "And I'm the man who massacred dozens of people in cold blood just to feel nothing. Don't try to scare me with darkness, Ectonurite. I was born in it."
The ghost stopped. Within the shared psyche, Zs'Skayr could "see" Yugo's memories. He saw the exorcist on the cross being crushed with a pipe. He saw the Battojutsu breaking the human's joints. He saw the cosmic hatred and the mathematical coldness. The parasitic alien realized he wasn't inhabiting the mind of a frightened child like Ben Tennyson; he was inhabiting the mind of a sociopathic killer in the process of rehabilitation.
"Interesting..." purred the ghost, his tone shifting from aggression to morbid curiosity. "You're just as rotten inside as I am. But you still cling to those pets. To the girl of light. To the demon with glasses."
"Listen to me carefully, parasite," Yugo decreed, taking complete control of Ghostfreak's voice, causing the entity to float calmly above the ceiling, arms crossed. "I came to make you a deal."
"A deal? I don't make deals with prisoners."
"I am not your prisoner. If I want, I can lock you in Azmuth's database and you'll never see the light of the moon again, nor taste anyone's fear for all eternity," Yugo threatened. "But I recognize your usefulness. You are intangible. You are a monster of psychological terror. I need you in my arsenal."
Ghostfreak's single eye squinted in the night.
"These are my conditions," Yugo continued, unwavering. "No more sabotaging the dial. You will not interfere with my selection of aliens again. You will not attempt to take control while I am asleep, nor when I am in human form. You will remain silent within the genetic code until I call you."
Ghostly let out a dry laugh in his mind. "And why would I agree to put a leash around my own neck, you disgusting bag of meat?"
"Because in return..." Yugo paused, letting the darkness of his own past mingle with the present. "...if you abide by those rules, when I decide to smash that dial and choose you of my own free will, I'll loosen the leash."
The specter remained silent, listening attentively.
"When I choose you, I will unleash you," the professor offered, with a macabre promise. "I will let you do whatever you want with the enemies we face. You can hunt, terrorize, tear at minds, and feed on their despair. I will give you control of the front seat so you can unleash all your sadism and have fun as you please."
The apparition's purple eye shone with maniacal intensity in the moonlight.
"But there is only one red line," Yugo warned, and this time, the murderous intent he mentally conveyed was so overwhelming that even the Ectonurite shuddered. "Never, under any circumstances, will you touch, frighten, or harm my allies. Asia, my students, Sona Sitri, her peerage, and even those three maids who sweep my floors. They are untouchable. If you cross that line, I swear on what remains of my soul that I will find a way to vaporize the clock with you inside."
Silence reigned in the mental landscape for several seconds.
Zs'Skayr processed the offer. Remain locked away forever in a silicon-and-green-light prison, or accept a few rules of coexistence in exchange for unlimited hunting privileges on the enemies of this human monster. Besides, Yugo's enemies were usually demons, angels, and exorcists; deliciously arrogant and easily broken prey.
A low, raspy laugh escaped from Ghostfreak's nonexistent lips. The specter raised one of his claws and traced an imaginary line in the air.
"Deal, Pawn of Sitri," hissed Zs'Skayr's conscience, formally accepting the pact. "I'll keep my claws away from your pets. But when you call me to battle... oh, I'll make sure your enemies beg for death."
"I'm counting on it," Yugo replied.
Having sealed the pact with the devil residing in his wrist, Yugo regained absolute control of the alien body. He moved the spectral arms, testing intangibility by passing a hand through the roof's ventilation chimney. It felt light, cold, almost divine in its detachment from the laws of physics.
He brought his claw to the Omnitrix symbol hidden among the folds of the grayish skin and pressed it.
¡FLASH!
The red flash illuminated the rooftop. Yugo Hano landed on his feet on the concrete. A lingering chill made him exhale a puff of breath, but his mind was completely at peace. There were no whispering voices. The dial wasn't vibrating. The pact was sealed, and the Ectonurite had returned to his cell willingly, awaiting his turn to hunt.
Yugo adjusted his glasses and rubbed his arms to warm up. He gazed at the stars of Kuoh one last time tonight.
"The paranoia is over," Yugo thought, turning back toward the rooftop trapdoor. "Now I have a full arsenal."
She descended the stairs silently, her footsteps muffled by the darkness of the shop. She crossed the hallway to her room and slowly opened the door.
In bed, Mittelt was still fast asleep, clutching her empty t-shirt and muttering something about the price of mops.
Yugo closed the door and approached the bed. With a swift movement, he snatched the shirt from the little Fallen Angel's hands, causing her to let out a soft groan of protest in her sleep and reach for something else to hold onto. The professor lay down beside her and, with the same apathy he would display when grading a history exam, slipped his right arm around the goth girl's waist, pulling her back against his chest to warm up.
Mittelt instinctively curled up against him, hiding his face in the human's chest, sighing with relief at feeling his demonic warmth.
Yugo closed his eyes, feeling for the first time in ten years that he was truly resting. The ghost of the past and the specter of the clock had been subdued. He was no longer alone, and even though the world was full of factions intent on killing him, he was ready to face death with twenty-one apocalypses and a wry smile.
Tomorrow, the "Saturn" minimarket would open its doors to the public, and the real battle for normality would begin.