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The weather was perfectly dreary today.

That tall, blonde weather douchebag, Lance Studley, had projected clear skies and smooth sailing, but as per usual, he proved the age-old adage that a pretty faces hides an empty head. The sky was full of dark grey clouds that sagged with the weight of moisture, and there was a still crackling in the air. Brimstone swore he could feel the lightning building above him, and the sensation made his throat close up in excitement. Dr. Frankenstein had it right; the power of electricity is amazing. Harnessing it would be, well, orgasmic.

Still, the nuclear Shattered was happy to spend a grey, wet day around Aekea. The bad weather meant less people on the street, less fat mothers dragging their snot-nosed brats away from him and less dumb teens sneering in his direction. Assholes. Plus, any excuse to be this close to Ilistala was fine by him; he was even starting to get better at hiding his physical responses to her presence. Yes, now, he could just think about her a lot and then think about why he thought about her so much.

Feeling Ilistala pull away from him, Brimstone let his eyebrows fall. Her warmth at his side dulled slowly, leaking out of him. It bothered Brim every time she removed herself from him--in any way. Things were still great between them, but even the pre-teen had noticed a subtle shift in Stala ever since that night under the dock. The events were sketchy to Brimstone, like fogged glass in his mind, but when he woke up with blood-soaked arms and the body of a dead man before him, he felt shocked. He felt surprised. He felt confused. But he did not feel guilty. And he hadn't yet. For what those men tried to do to Stala, he would have gladly seen worse done to them.

Brimstone couldn't explain it, but the idea that he was capable of such destruction enthralled him. At night, he still thought about it, trying to build the events in his mind, create a memory of the kill that he didn't have access to. His thoughts were interrupted by Ilistala's voice.

He shrugged, and looked over at her, following the direction of her gaze to a little food place on the street. "Sure," he said, pushing neon blue hair out of his eyes. "I could eat." Quaint or not, Brimstone was hungry.

Crossing the street, he walked to the door and asked for a table for two--outside. Why not? They had umbrellas over the tables and the weather was lovely as far as he was concerned. The quiet hostess led them to a table, and Brimstone took a quick seat. It only occurred to him later that he probably should have let Stala sit first or pulled out her chair or something. Oh well, it wasn't like the pre-teen had much experience with girls, and coventional chivalry wasn't exactly one of his interests.

Brimstone leaned over the table, staring down at the menu that the hostess had left for him. He wasn't usually big on pasta, but the place had chicken caper penne with mozzarrella. "s**t yeah," he said, flopping his menu up and looking to Stala. "They've got a caper pasta thing." Brimstone's love of capers had been with him since childhood, and though, eventually he had taken to other foods, they always held a special place in his heart. Kind of like Ilistala, too.

Pointing a stubby nail at his dish of choice, the nuclear Shattered felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. Now, he just had to pick out a drink. Only a few minutes had passed since the two had been at the table; the waiter hadn't even arrived to take a drink order yet. But Brimstone was hungry and determined, and when he made a choice, he liked to have immediate gratification. So, hoping to keep Ilistala moving at his pace, he asked, "What are you going to get?" and immediately began searching for a waiter.

Waiting for Stala to search the menu, the nuclear Shattered felt prickles of familiarity just being in this cafe. What was it? He'd been to Aekea plenty of times before so it was highly possible he'd come across this place before, but this felt like an older memory. He dropped his neon gaze to the menu, imagining what his delicious caper penne pasta with mozzarella would taste like--and then it hit him.

Capers.

This was the restaurant from years ago, the place where Brimstone had first met Ilistala as a child. The Shattered probably should have been surprised to have a memory of this place despite how young he was, but he wasn't really familiar with the normal cognitive development of the human child. Oh well. He remembered and that was all that mattered.

A smirk played across his lips, and Brimstone's raised his eyes to tell Stala what he had just discovered. "Hey," he began, only to find himself rudely interrupted by a fence-hopping kid. Brimstone narrowed his eyes, immediately hating the casual, self-assured airs of the kid. That was Brim's job.

Any tenderness in his face that might have existed in Stala's presence melted as Brimstone regarded the interloper. He took a sip from his water casually and raised an eyebrow, working silently to keep his temper in check. "Are you lost or something?" he sneered, unhappy to have his psuedo-date interrupted.

Staring hard at the kid who was trying to edge in on his day with Ilistala, Brimstone sneered, ready to chase this guy off and strongly disliking the familiar tone of his voice. That instant where he took his gaze from Stala to watch the new face, where he let his senses dull in anticipation of a rebuttal--it would be a moment that the boy would regret. As the shadow claimed Stala and the waiter appeared, Brimstone barely had time to turn when, in a flash, the heavy wooden table flew by Brimstone, flipping his chair backwards in the process. The pre-teen cursed under his breath, hopping up to his feet as quickly as he could.

Twin heads of flaming hair flew past him and down into the alleyway, and then he saw the strange boy chasing after him--and also near him? The guy had a twin. A familiar pain gripped the Shattered's chest as he watched the one thing he cared about other than himself get dragged away, once again. Suddenly, he was back under that pier, a child again watching his best friend be harmed by two enemies. "Stala!" Brimstone shouted, hopping the fence as she disappeared out of sight. He had to go after her--but... how many of her was he trying to save?

Brimstone's blood boiled, and the veins on his neck bulged, making the neon green life that surged through them visible under his black skin. His fury rose violently, and he spun on Karma, gripping at the boy's shirt collar with as much strength as the young pre-teen could manage. "Who are you? Who the ******** are you?" he demanded, spit flying from his mouth as his eyes simmered. But he didn't have time for this. He had to get her back.

Hopping away from the stranger, he growled low in his throat, pointing at Karma. He didn't know what the hell this kid was doing, why he was after Stala, or how he had found a look-a-like for the two of them, but he would find out. Right after he got his girl back. "I'll ******** kill you for this," he threatened, feeling an immature squeak surface in the back of his throat. The boy meant it, but even he doubted his ability to do it. Still, the nuclear Shattered had to say something, to insult or threaten or anything to make him feel stronger than he was in his lean body.

Narrowing his eyes, Brimstone spun around, charging to the alley as fast as his red Converses could move him. His jacket whipped at his sides as he tore forward, not thinking about anything but finding where the firey Shattered had been taken. The darkness fell over him like in a blanket, and he slipped willingly under, never stopping to realize how this was clearly a trap.

And Ilistala was the bait.

Hooking a hard turn around the corner, Brimstone felt every thought of the other Shattered following behind him shrivel up in his mind, dripping down his spine. Ahead of him, crouching behind two trashcans and right next to a dumpster were two Ilistala's. There was no mistaking it, and for a moment the thought of having two of Stala... well, it distracted him momentarily. That is, at least until the second Karma came into view.

"Give her back to me," he said in as firm of a voice as he could manage. "Stala... my Stala. Uh, the one I was at dinner with, give her to me." Despite the intensity of the situation, Brimstone felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment at calling his long time friend his Stala, though he wasn't sure why.

No one moved. So the nuclear Shattered did. He lunged forward toward the two girls thoughtlessly, hopping over a bent trashcan lid. A creaking, sliding of metal high above him stopped the pre-teen short in his tracks. "Not so fast." A voice oozed up from his left, and as Brimstone turned to look up, he saw a very familiar figure leap from the nearest fire escape. He saw it, yes, but he could not believe it.

As the body fell toward him, he saw neon blue hair, a smear of black skin, glowing green eyes, and to his own jealousy, a full pair of smoke wings. His doppleganger made full contact with him, slamming Brimstone backwards into the far brick wall, and all the pre-teen could think about was how his twin could actually summon his wings while Brimstone had yet to bring them out on purpose. What was going on?

"God damnit!" he cursed, writhing beneath him... self? The absurdity of the situation frustrated the boy, but he didn't try to wrap his mind around it. He just wanted to get to Ilistala and take her away from the boy who had brought on all this trouble in the first place.

Oh, things had a funny way of happening so fast, didn't they? The millions of little events squished into the minuscule time-frame of thirty seconds practically shrieked by her head as inky-black fingers curled around her mouth, picked her up, carried her away and down an alley and before she knew it, she was sitting propped up against the back of a filthy trashcan in the back of a filthy alley in the back of a filthy city, grime smeared under her chin and under her fingernails as her leathery wings flapped and fluttered in distress and she stood over herself, sneering and scowling and saying something about...something.

Blinking dust out of her eyes, Ilistala cocked her head to the side like a perplexed puppy and tried to stand, but was painfully knocked back down by what could only be described as her long-lost identical twin. Things were happening so quickly, so speedily! She was so confused! "Look, uhh," she began, stuttering in anxiousness, "I dunno who the heck you are, but this is pretty weird. Is this some kinda joke? Mom? Are you wearing a suit or something? Cause that's pretty creepy if you went through all this effort to make a costume that looks exactly like me..."

"Shut up," her twin hissed, raising one booted foot and planting it, hard, on Ilistala's fingers. Even as exquisite pain shot through her arm, and her hand first ached in pain and then went hot and numb, Ilistala still could not help but be amazed at how much this long-lost twin sounded like her! Incredible!

But what the ******** was going on?

Well, it seemed the boys had caught up with her, finally...took them long enough. Still, it didn't take them long at all to get their asses kicked by their own long lost twins. Okay, was she in the goddamn Twilight Zone or something? Honestly! Brimstone was beating on Brimstone, and Karma and Karma were scuffling over on the floor. This was weird and stupid and weird all at the same time.

If none of the "boys" (if they could even be called that, hmph!) were going to take charge, well...it was her turn. Springing to a crouch and catching herself off guard, she tackled herself into a heap of trashbags and began punching wildly, sparks flying off her fists and wispy flames flaring along her tattoos, which were exposed due to her leaving her raincoat at the cafe. Tiny pellets of rain blanketed the fighting youths and steam curled off Ilistala's and Ilistala's hot body in smoky, serpentine fingers.

The two were silent save for the rustling bags and occasional flares...and finally, after what felt like ages but could not have been more than a minute, Ilistala landed one devastating punch, sheathed in flames, on the temple of Ilistala, and she was knocked out cold. Huffing and trying not to cry, she shakily got to her feet, knees quaking and shoulders shuddering, and knuckled away a thin stream of blood from the corner of her mouth.

She would not intervene in the other boy's fights--there was no use in emasculating them that bad, after all. She would only jump in if asked...she just hoped she was. Fury burned her veins and flushed her cheeks and the desire to torch the entire alley, incinerating everyone in it, was almost too strong to ignore.

It took him awhile to even care why any of this was happening- eerily creepy twins that were trying to fight the originals for some reason or another- it sounded like something out of a novel, and the longer he struggled, the more it unfolded like one.

His twin punched him hard in the cheek, and he could feel a bruise rapidly forming- with a loud growl Karma managed to roll ontop of the other, the light drizzle making his hair stick to his face and shoulders. He could barely see with it all in the way.
"Shut up, god," he muttered to Brimstone, but he didn't turn to address him. As if running into an alley and being locked in mortal combat with a duplicate wasn't bad enough.

His doppleganger started violently. Karma clung ontop, trying to use his gamy weight to his advantage, his hands like vices against the other kid's wrists. Eventually the thrashing died down, and he was left sitting and staring into his very own eyes- creepy, really, and partly infuriating because of the smirk. The detail was exact, right down to the eyebrow piercing.

"Wipe that goddamn smile off your face," Karma said, but he was too exhausted to get angry after scuffling on the floor for what seemed like ages, too weirded out by the similarities between them. The doppleganger smiled wider, eyes glittering.

"It's mine," it hissed, "You're the thief."

"Oh ******** you," Karma sneered, and in a last ditch attempt, wound his arm backwards and hit his doppleganger clear across the face. The doppleganger's head flew to the side and his eyes fluttered, and then the thing grew silent, unmoving.

Is he... out? Is it over? Karma thought with tired awe, drawing back his aching hand. He hadn't intended to hit so hard, and he looked at his knuckles quietly. The scent of oil and city rain lingered heavy in the alley, and Karma had to wonder if this was all a dream.