Amends Part 1

When you're in a group like The Cons, victory is like flying pigs; it only happens once in a while (The New Wave affected a few animals as well), which is why we should celebrate the occasion. But between Eternus' recovery and his little fight with Port, we haven't exactly had the best mood for celebration. However, yesterday isn't today. And if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to use my blood, sweat, tears, and earned ill-gotten gains for one big blowout celebration.

Because in this superhuman society, I got fated to be the worst and worst the day I was born. Yet even though I am the worst, I would still like to make amends for being the way I am here in The Cons. And if you knew my story, you would probably want to do the same thing. After all, who hasn't wanted to control their fury?

With the simple beep of my 5 AM alarm clock, I woke up right as rain. Without missing a beat, I looked towards my antique wooden cupboard and promptly pulled out my planned wear for the day. Then, almost unconsciously, I tied the rubber band, taming my wild, messy and stupid hair. From there, I wore a very loose but tucked-in white shirt I got from a dumpster a couple of months back.

It took me forever to stitch it up together, and the threads are blatant, but hey, at least it was disposable, right? After that, I used some long jeans to tie the outfit together. As a final touch, I pulled out my final but most important accessory—a scratched-up silver pocket mirror from a time long past.

From there, I took one good long look at my face, and with that, I gave myself a beaming smile, the first one to start the day. Then, once I absorbed the good feels, I went out to start the day. First things first, though, before reaching the big blowout on lock, I had to get everyone in the mood. And what better way to do that than simply doing all of them a little pre-blowout favor? The early bird gets the worm and all that jazz, right?

With that, I picked off my biggest challenge first. Because despite my near-daily domestic duties. There was one realm I had left to conquer here in our little Burrow. But, unfortunately, the mere thought of her realm created a deathly cloud of blood lust emanating from her room. The cloud nearly gave Eternus' one a run for his money; any normal person would've left immediately.

However, I've always been good at controlling my emotions. So in the ultimate fake it till you make it play, I twisted Port's broken doorknob and entered her room. However, before I could even take a single step further, I got met with a thrown knife that missed me only by a couple of inches.

I could barely even register what happened as Port wordlessly tinkered away, completely ignoring my presence amidst her mounds of inventions. From there, I looked at the knife closer, realizing that it was part of a complicated Rube Goldberg machine made to activate upon anyone opening the door. That alone was more than enough to get her message across.

"Okay then, maybe next time," I said while closing the door.

Not that I ever did before, but I didn't bother getting upset at her threat. Port may be a little rough around the edges, but she's a smart and nice person deep inside. Or at least I know she's better than me. This means that I had plenty more time to take care of the next big roadblock for the BBC (big blowout celebration, get your mind out of the gutter, dummy).

No resistance at all got put up as I entered Ricochet's room. While Port's room was a carefully planned mess that only she could decipher, Ricochet was the absolute opposite. It was much less cluttered, only really having a couple of stacks of empty bottles and cans. The really messy part was the composition. Every little thing was put haphazardly, like a slightly crooked nail.

From both experience and my observations, I already saw these turns like someone put a highlighter on them. So amid deep sleep, I managed to stealthily clean his entire room without so much than an odd rustle. Every touched-up piece made my slight smirk widen by the second like I was setting something right. Because I for one believe that a tidy room means a tidy spirit.

When I finally finished my grand task, I attempted to tiptoe out of there. But in a start, Ricochet managed to rustle up, revealing his exposed upper body. I wouldn't exactly call myself a close study like Frag, but something was genuinely different about her. Usually, Ricochet had this shabby look, separate from Eternus apathy.

But here and now, in the cracking sunlight, he looked far different; his beard was a little less messy, with his upper body also being less pudgy. But, nevertheless, his attitude was still very much the same as through half-closed eyes and mighty yawn Ricochet gave me words I never even heard from him till now.

"Thanks, Fury, appreciate it," he said with a grateful smile as he plopped back down on the bed.

I held on to that smile as long as possible before heading out. However, those precious few seconds punished me greatly as I saw a sight that could ruin everything.