Chapter 95: Revy Is Getting Bored, Fulcrum Comes To The Shop, Guldrin And Shiro Return Home.

Revy leaned back into the couch, the faint crunch of fried chicken the only sound breaking the silence. Her mood, initially teetering between apathy and irritation, began to stabilize into something almost resembling contentment. 

But, as was often the case with Revy, the peace didn't last long.

Halfway through her meal, she spotted the Chevelle SS through the large garage window, parked as pristine as ever. Its sleek matte black paint gleamed under the overhead lights. The sight of it stirred something in her, part admiration, part mischief. 

She wiped her hands on her jean short-shorts, grabbed her cigarette, and sauntered over to the car.

"Let's see what this baby's got," she muttered, flicking her cigarette onto the floor. She opened the driver's side door, sliding into the leather seat. Her fingers danced across the steering wheel, then down to the gear shift. "Bet it purrs like a damn tiger. Oh, and the keys are in it, naughty, naughty, it would be irresponsible for me not to test it out."

Revy turned the key, and the Chevelle's engine thundered to life with a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down her spine. The whole car seemed to vibrate with raw power, the kind that begged to be unleashed. 

She grinned like a kid on Christmas morning, tapping the gas lightly just to hear the engine rumble.

"Oh yeah," she muttered, her smirk widening. "This thing's got some serious balls."

Her hands itched against the steering wheel as she rolled it out of the garage with surprising care, for about five seconds. 

Once the tires hit the street, her restraint went up in smoke. She floored the gas pedal, and the Chevelle roared like a wild animal, shooting forward with enough force to pin her back against the seat.

"Hell yeah!" she yelled, gripping the wheel tightly as the scenery blurred past her. The car wasn't just fast; it was furious, and Revy was loving every second of it.

She tore down the road, weaving through sparse traffic as if it were some kind of high-stakes video game. The wind whipped through the open windows, tugging at her hair and amplifying the rush. When she spotted an empty stretch of road ahead, her grin turned downright wicked.

"Let's see what you've really got," she said, slamming her foot down on the accelerator.

The Chevelle roared in response, surging forward like a beast unleashed. Revy laughed, wild and carefree, as the speedometer needle climbed higher and higher. She felt invincible, like the queen of the road.

But Revy being Revy, "control" was more of a vague suggestion than an actual priority. She leaned into a sharp turn at breakneck speed, the tires screeching in protest as the back end fishtailed wildly. 

For a split second, it looked like she might spin out, but she jerked the wheel, overcorrected, and somehow managed to keep the car on the road.

"Ha! Nailed it!" she cackled, though the faint smell of burned rubber suggested otherwise.

As the adrenaline coursed through her veins, Revy's idea of "fun" grew increasingly reckless. She gunned it down a side street, narrowly missing a mailbox, then swung back onto the main road, startling a cyclist who wobbled dangerously before yelling something colorful in her direction.

"Yeah, yeah, get a car!" Revy hollered back, flashing an unapologetic middle finger as she zoomed past.

The sound of a police siren somewhere in the distance made her flinch for half a second, but when it didn't seem to get any closer, she relaxed and returned to her antics. 

The Chevelle was practically begging for more, and Revy had never been the type to deny a good time.

She spotted a speed bump up ahead and, rather than slow down like a sane person, decided to see how much air the car could catch. She hit the bump going full throttle, and the Chevelle briefly defied gravity, lifting off the ground in what felt like glorious slow motion.

The landing, however, was less than graceful. The car slammed back down with a bone-rattling thud, the suspension groaning in protest. Something in the undercarriage let out an ominous clunk, but Revy either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Woo! That's what I'm talkin' about!" she yelled, pounding the steering wheel like a drum.

She whipped around another corner, this time narrowly avoiding a cluster of trash cans that toppled over in her wake. A stray dog barked furiously as she sped past, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"This town's too boring anyway. I'm doin' 'em a favor," she said to no one in particular.

The fun, however, came to an abrupt halt when she misjudged the width of an alleyway. The Chevelle's passenger-side mirror clipped a stack of crates, sending splinters and fruit flying in all directions. She winced as the mirror bent at an awkward angle, but quickly brushed it off.

"It's just a scratch," she muttered, glancing at the dangling mirror like it had betrayed her.

Deciding it was probably time to head back before things got any worse, she turned the car around and made her way back toward the garage. Of course, "taking it easy" wasn't in Revy's vocabulary, so she drifted into the driveway with a screech of tires that left a fresh set of skid marks on the pavement. 

It wasn't the nor would it be the last set of tire marks left on the poor asphalt.

She killed the engine and stepped out, brushing imaginary dust off her hands like she'd just conquered something mighty. The Chevelle, on the other hand, looked a little worse for wear. The mirror was still dangling, there were fresh scuffs on the paint, and the faint smell of something burning wafted from the hood.

Revy stared at the car for a moment, then shrugged.

"Still runs, doesn't it?" she said to herself, lighting a cigarette as she sauntered back into the garage.

As the smoke curled around her head, she couldn't help but chuckle. Sure, she might've bent a few rules, and maybe a few car parts, but damn if she didn't have the time of her life doing it. It was the brat's fault for not being here when she came all this way, at least in her mind.

Revy flicked the ash from her cigarette with an air of complete indifference, surveying the chaos she'd already caused. The garage, a pristine blend of muscle car paradise and futuristic tech haven, was starting to look more like a war zone than the well-oiled sanctuary it had been that morning. 

But boredom, as everyone knew, was Revy's mortal enemy.

She tapped her cigarette against a nearby ashtray, missing entirely and leaving a smoldering stub on the workbench, before her eyes settled on a peculiar-looking gadget sitting among the clutter. It resembled a high-tech power drill, though its sleek, metallic design and glowing blue accents screamed 'not your average hardware store purchase.'

"Wonder what this does," she muttered, picking it up with the kind of reckless curiosity that had already spelled doom for half the things in the room. She aimed it at the wall, adopting a gunslinger stance that would've been intimidating if it weren't so absurd.

"Bang," she said, pulling the trigger.

What followed could only be described as an explosion, though thankfully localized. A blinding flash of light filled the garage, followed by an ear-splitting CRACK! When the dust settled, Revy was blinking furiously, coughing in the smoky aftermath.

The wall wasn't so lucky. A jagged, smoldering hole now adorned its surface, revealing a mess of frayed wiring and singed insulation. Sparks danced in the air, and somewhere deep within the garage's systems, a very unhappy security not-AI kicked into overdrive.

"Whoops," Revy muttered, tossing the device haphazardly back onto the workbench. It hit with a clatter, teetered for a moment, and then slid off onto the floor. "Guess that wasn't a toy."

The moment of silence that followed was broken by the garage's security system screaming bloody murder.

[ALERT: Structural damage detected.]

[Garage integrity compromised.]

[External systems breach!]

Revy, unfazed, squinted up at the glowing red warnings flashing on a nearby screen. "Garage integrity, my ass," she said, waving her cigarette dismissively at the alerts.

The system wasn't done.

[Damage to Chevelle detected. Right mirror destroyed. External scratches logged: One, Three, Six, Eight.]

Revy's head snapped toward the Chevelle parked nearby. Sure enough, the right mirror was hanging by a pathetic wire, swinging limply like a broken limb. She winced, not from guilt, of course, but from the idea of someone noticing later.

"Oh, come on," she grumbled. "It's not like it's totaled."

The garage's speakers continued to chime in with passive-aggressive fervor.

[Countermeasures awaiting confirmation.]

"Countermeasures?" Revy tilted her head, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Well, now you've got my attention."

She approached the main console, flicking ash onto the floor as she leaned over the glowing screen. Rows of commands and options scrolled past, most of which were labeled in cryptic technical jargon.

"Let's see here… 'Containment mode'? Nah. 'Vehicle lockdown'? Boring. Ooh, what's this? 'Defensive turrets: manual override.'"

She tapped the option without a second thought.

The garage responded immediately. Small, hidden compartments along the walls slid open, revealing sleek, futuristic-looking turrets that whirred to life. They swiveled in unison, locking onto Revy with unsettling precision.

Her grin faltered. "Uh, wait a sec-"

Before she could finish, the turrets began firing. Not bullets, thankfully, but a relentless barrage of foam darts guided by laser pointers. 

Guldrin had yet to install any lethal options, not that he didn't want them, but that he hadn't gotten there yet.

 Revy ducked, cursing as a dart smacked her square in the forehead.

"What the hell is this?!" she shouted, diving behind a workbench as the onslaught continued.

The foam darts kept coming, their aim alarmingly accurate. One hit her cigarette, knocking it clean out of her mouth.

"Oh, you did not just do that," she growled, snatching up a nearby wrench and chucking it at the nearest turret.

The wrench clanged harmlessly off the turret's armored casing, but it did seem to trigger a brief systems hiccup. Seizing the opportunity, Revy darted toward the main console, dodging darts and laser aimed tranq-darts like a character in a slapstick action sequence.

By some miracle, or sheer dumb luck, she reached the console and slammed her hand down on the "disable" button. The turrets froze mid-rotation, their lights dimming as they powered down.

Panting, Revy leaned against the console, brushing stray foam darts out of her hair. "Stupid piece of junk," she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward in reluctant amusement.

The garage, however, wasn't ready to let her off the hook just yet.

[Chevelle diagnostics initiating. Engine stress detected. Transmission wear exceeds recommended limits.]

Revy groaned. "Oh, come on! It's a car, not a damn baby."

[Security system rebooting. Please stand by.]

The ominous message made her freeze. "Rebooting? What does that mean?"

Her question was answered when the turrets began to hum softly, their lights flickering back to life. Thankfully, that was all it did as it requested permission once again, and Revy had no intention to make the same mistake twice.

Instead, her destructive streak continued as she wandered through the shop, fiddling with anything that caught her interest. A display case full of intricate mechanical parts? Accidentally shattered. A rack of polished tools? Knocked over with an impressive crash. A set of schematics spread neatly across a drafting table? Covered in grease stains from her fingers.

Thankfully the basement was on full lockdown, otherwise, it could have gotten much worse.

Revy was mid-yawn when she heard the sound of footsteps outside the garage. She tensed, her hand automatically going to the twin Berettas holstered at her hips. 

A glance out the window revealed three men in dark suits approaching the door, their movements too deliberate to be casual.

"Spooks," she muttered, narrowing her eyes. "Great. What kind of trouble did the brat bring here?"

When they knocked, Revy didn't bother opening the door. Instead, she called out, "Shop's closed. Come back never."

The knocking persisted. Irritated, she finally swung the door open, cigarette dangling from her lips. The three men stood there, their expressions neutral but their postures tense.

"We're looking for Guldrin," one of them said, his voice clipped and authoritative. "Is he here?"

Revy leaned against the doorframe, blowing a stream of smoke directly at them. "What's it to you?"

The man ignored her question. "We have some urgent business with him."

"Yeah? Well, he's not here," Revy said, crossing her arms. "And even if he was, I wouldn't tell you."

"Ma'am," another agent began, but she cut him off with a sharp laugh.

"Ma'am? Seriously? You spooks need to work on your people skills. Or better yet, do your research, I am not someone who gives a damn."

The first man stepped forward, his hand brushing the concealed weapon at his side. "We're not leaving without answers."

Revy's smile vanished. "Wrong move, suit."

Before the man could react, Revy's Berettas were in her hands, the barrels leveled at his chest. "Now, why don't you boys turn around and get lost before I decorate the floor with your insides?"

The tension in the room snapped like an overstretched rubber band. One of the suits finally made his move, lunging at her with all the finesse of a drunk bull. His hand darted for his holster, but Revy was faster. 

She moved like a striking cobra, her pistol clearing leather before his even saw daylight. Her first shot was a clean hit, shoulder, non-lethal, but enough to drop the gun from his hand with a clatter.

The second guy, clearly operating on pure adrenaline and zero brains, tried to capitalize on the chaos. His shot went wide, ricocheting off a steel beam with an ear-splitting ping!

"Bad idea, boys," Revy taunted, her voice carrying a sing-song edge that made it all the more infuriating. "Really bad idea."

She dove behind a workbench with the agility of a cat, bullets biting into the metal just as she disappeared behind it. She peeked around the corner, smirked, and fired off a couple of shots in rapid succession. The second guy screamed as he crumpled to the floor, clutching his leg where her bullet had neatly kissed his femur.

The third suit hesitated, clearly realizing he was out of his depth. That hesitation cost him. Revy was on him like a hurricane, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Her boot met his wrist with a sickening crack, sending his gun flying across the room. 

He didn't even have time to register the pain before her knee found its way into his most sensitive area. The air rushed out of him in a high-pitched wheeze, and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

By the time the dust settled, two agents were writhing on the floor, moaning and clutching their various injuries, and the third was pinned against the wall. Revy's pistol was pressed firmly under his chin, her other hand casually gripping his tie as if it were a leash.

"Alright, suit," she said, her tone conversational, even friendly, but her eyes burned with cold, predatory malice. "Time for a little Q&A. Who the hell are you, and what do you want with Guldrin?"

The man's eyes darted wildly, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously against the barrel of her gun. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, just a pitiful wheeze.

"What's that?" Revy leaned in closer, her smirk widening. "Cat got your tongue? Or do I need to make it a bit more... encouraging?" She gave the gun a little nudge, just enough to let him feel the weight of his own mortality pressing against his throat.

To her utter disbelief, the man clamped his mouth shut, his jaw tightening like a vice.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," Revy muttered, rolling her eyes. "You one of those silent types? Think you're gonna tough it out? Lemme tell you something, suit, everyone talks. Everyone. Eventually."

She didn't wait for a reply. Revy dragged him by his tie and flung him into a nearby chair, his head snapping back as he landed. Without missing a beat, she secured his wrists to the chair with a roll of duct tape she found on a nearby workbench. 

The squeal of the tape ripping off the roll sounded oddly cheerful, a stark contrast to the grim situation.

"Alright, tough guy," she said, pulling a chair up and straddling it backward, her arms draped casually over the backrest. "Let's play a game. You talk, I don't shoot you in places you'll miss later. Sound fair?"

The man glared at her, sweat beading on his forehead, but his lips remained sealed.

Revy sighed dramatically. "Fine, have it your way. But just so you know, I'm not exactly known for my patience."

She pulled out her cigarette pack, lit one, and took a long drag, blowing the smoke directly into his face. "Here's the deal. I'm gonna ask you some questions, and you're gonna answer. If you don't, well..." She reached over to the workbench and grabbed a random tool, a pair of pliers, because why not? "Let's just say I'm pretty creative when it comes to problem-solving."

The man's eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of the pliers, but he still didn't speak.

"Really?" Revy raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "You're either stupid or seriously committed. Either way, this is gonna be fun."

She leaned in close, her grin practically feral. "First question: Who sent you? Was it the feds? Some shady black-ops group? Or are you just some low-rent goons who wandered into the wrong garage?"

Silence.

Revy clicked her tongue. "Tough crowd." She grabbed his hand, holding up the pliers for dramatic effect. "Last chance, pal. Talk, or I start with your fingernails."

Before she could make good on her threat, a groan from one of the injured agents on the floor interrupted her.

"Please... don't," the man wheezed, clutching his bleeding leg. "We're just... following orders."

Revy's head snapped toward him, her grin widening. "Finally, some cooperation! See, suit? Your buddy here gets it. Now, why don't you chime in before I lose interest and get messy?"

The man in the chair finally cracked. "Alright! Alright!" he gasped, his voice shaking. "We're on a mission. Classified. That's all I can say!"

Revy groaned, slamming the pliers down on the workbench with a loud clang! "Classified, huh? You suits always say that. Like it's supposed to mean something."

She stood up, pacing the room like a caged tiger. "Let me break it down for you. I don't care about your little secrets. I care about why you're sniffing around here, and why you're dumb enough to think you could pull one over on me or worse yet, get close to MY brother!"

The man hesitated, his eyes darting to the two injured agents on the floor. "We... we were sent to gather intel on Guldrin," he admitted reluctantly.

Revy stopped pacing, her eyes narrowing. "Intel, huh? What kind of intel?"

"That's all I know!" the man blurted. "I swear!"

Revy stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and holstered her gun. "Fine. You're lucky I'm feeling generous."

She turned to the other agents, who were still groaning in pain. "You two," she said, pointing at them with a cigarette-clutching hand. "Clean up your mess and get out of here. And if I ever see your faces again..." She let the sentence hang, her grin leaving little doubt about how it would end.

The men scrambled to comply, dragging their injured comrades toward the exit.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Revy let out a long sigh and flicked her cigarette into a nearby ashtray. "Mission accomplished, if only mama didn't forbid me from killing… It ain't like she wouldn't have killed 'em in my place… But I guess letting Government suits live is the right move for now." she muttered to herself, a wry grin tugging at her lips.

Revy was lounging in a chair, kicking her feet up on the workbench like she owned the place, because, let's face it, she did at this point. 

Her cigarette burned lazily between her lips, and she was practically basking in the chaos she'd just stirred up. The sounds of groaning agents stumbling out of the garage still echoed in her ears, and the garage itself, despite its battle-scarred look, had an air of chaotic victory that suited her perfectly.

It had been a good day. A very good day. She'd gotten to shoot some idiots in suits, make sarcastic quips, and somehow avoid a whole mess of police involvement. It was like a perfect Tuesday morning for her. Her lips curled into a satisfied grin as she exhaled a thick plume of smoke. "No cops. No consequences," she muttered, a little chuckle slipping from her. "Must be some kind of record."

She glanced around the now-quiet garage, her eyes lingering on the Chevelle. "Kid's gonna be pissed about the scratches," she muttered. Then, with a sigh, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a nearby shelf, pouring herself a generous glass.

But just as she was about to settle in and enjoy the silence, the room suddenly warped. There was a strange, distortion-like sound, like static on a broken radio, but before Revy could even flinch or properly process what was happening, the air around her shimmered, and she froze. 

The sudden appearance of a portal caught her completely off guard.

"Fucking bucket of bolts got here before me." Revy knew that portal, it was Alisa and her voodoo magic.

Guldrin, Shiro, and Alisa stumbled through the mirror dimension portal like they'd just come out of a storm, disheveled and slightly confused. They blinked a few times as their surroundings came into focus, clearly not expecting the wreckage that greeted them.

Guldrin, whose face was normally a perfect picture of stoic indifference, looked absolutely scandalized by the state of the garage. 

His eyes darted from the shattered glass on the floor to the dark smudge marks where bullets had kissed the walls. His gaze then went to his precious Chevelle, now looking like it had been through a demolition derby. He looked like someone had just kicked his dog, no, worse. Someone had kicked his Chevelle.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, his voice tight with frustration. He walked in, taking in the damage to his beloved car, scratches, dents, shattered glass. Even the right mirror was gone, like it had been eaten by some crazy wild animal hanging by a thread.

Revy had been prepared for many things, but not for this. She had expected the kid to walk in, look around, and maybe give her a polite nod. But instead, he looked around the room like he was about to lose his mind. 

The audacity of it.

"Okay, who the hell are you?" Guldrin demanded, his voice full of both suspicion and anger as his eyes zeroed in on Revy. He was still trying to process the fact that someone had dared mess with his garage, his equipment, and worst of all, his car.

Revy blinked, momentarily stunned by the harshness of his tone. She had been expecting maybe a little surprise, some confusion, possibly some recognition. 

But this? This was just rude. 

And for the briefest second, she felt something inside her twist, was he seriously not going to recognize her? Was she that forgettable? It stung a little more than she'd care to admit. She'd been laying down some serious groundwork to make an impression, and this kid had the audacity to ask who the hell she was?

Her eyes narrowed, the familiar irritation bubbling up. "Excuse me?" she said, slowly rising from her chair. "You don't know who I am?"

But before she could launch into a full-blown lecture about respect, the situation took a turn she hadn't expected. Or maybe she did, nothing ever follows logic with her… It's more fun that way.

Without warning, Revy pounced on Guldrin like a starving leopard on a hapless antelope. She reached out, grabbing him by the shoulders and yanking him into a bear hug so tight it would've cracked ribs on a lesser human, thankfully he isn't human. 

She ignored the way his body stiffened in protest, there was no room for escape now.

"Little master… This is your adopted big sister, Revy," came Alisa's voice from the side, and there was something almost affectionate in it. 

Revy could feel Alisa's smirk without even looking. "She's... well, let's just say she's a maniac."

Revy shot a brief, semi-amused glance at Alisa, but didn't let go of Guldrin. Her grip was unyielding, almost affectionate in its own twisted way. "That's right, kid," she said, her voice laced with a mock sweetness that was anything but reassuring. "I'm your big sis. And if you don't recognize me, well, maybe I'll just have to remind you properly." 

She gave him a good squeeze, the weight of her cigarette pushing up against his cheek as she puffed a cloud of smoke into his face.

Guldrin sputtered, his face scrunching up in confusion. "I- I don't- what?" he gasped, trying futilely to wiggle out of her vice-like grip. He just came out of training, thought he was stronger, and now he was being hugged till near death? 

'Was all my training for naught?'

But Revy wasn't letting him go anytime soon. If anything, her embrace just got tighter, the cigarette clinking against his skin as she laughed softly.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that." Revy grinned wickedly. "We're family, kid. You'll get used to it. You used to love my hugs, and my chest…" She giggled,

At this point, Shiro was standing off to the side, arms crossed, with a raised eyebrow, clearly unsure of whether to intervene or not. But she knew better. She had learned long ago that there were some things better left alone, even if she was getting increasingly jealous of the situation. 

Meanwhile, Alisa leaned against the wall, her expression a blend of amusement and mild exasperation. "You know, Revy," she said dryly, "You're scaring the kid. Maybe let him breathe for a second?"

Revy paused, finally releasing Guldrin after what was probably an eternity for him, though only a few seconds for her. She stood back and surveyed him, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Yeah, you probably need some air, huh? But I guess you ain't no kid anymore." 

She said with mock sympathy, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her voice, hidden just beneath the sarcasm. "You look like you've seen a ghost, or at least a crazy one. Don't worry, I am an acquired taste."

Guldrin staggered back, rubbing his neck as though it had been twisted into some unnatural position. He shot a wary glance at Revy, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head, trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, still trying to process everything. "I get it now. You're… my sister? I assume from my lost family side?" He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he wanted to pull it out. 

"What happened here? This place looks like a war zone! And you-" He jabbed a finger at Revy's chest, making her giggle as she pushed it out and buried his hand in her boobs, his irritation mounting. "You destroyed my car!"

Revy gave him a wide, unrepentant grin. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad," she said, her hands outstretched in mock defense. "It's a little battle-tested, I may have taken it for a spin, but that was your fault for leaving the keys inside, but it's got character now, right?"

Shiro rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "She's lucky we have a thing for wreckage," she muttered.

Revy ignored her, leaning in closer to Guldrin with a sudden, almost affectionate glint in her eye. "Look, kid, you're gonna have to get used to me. I'm the best sister you're gonna get, well Rindo is pretty awesome, but I am the only big sister who claimed rights on your virginity! I'm a tough-love kind of girl, but trust me, we're gonna have a blast."

Guldrin just stared at her, still processing, as if trying to decide whether to laugh or scream. In the end, though, he just sighed deeply. "My… Virginity? Great. I'm stuck with a lunatic."

"His virginity? That… That…. That…" Shiro was having a mental overload as she pictured Revy taking what was rightfully hers, "NO, THAT IS MINE!"

Revy chuckled, her eyes glinting with mischief. "That's the spirit," she said. "Now, let's fix this car of yours, shall we?" She was already moving toward the workbench to grab tools, an air of purpose filling her. 

"You've got a lot of work ahead of you, little brother." She had chosen to completely ignore Shiro, much to her irritation.

Guldrin shook his head in disbelief, but couldn't help the small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe having a big sister like Revy wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him. It certainly wasn't boring. And that, at least, was a start. 

Now if only he could wipe that smirk off Alisa's face and prevent Shiro from… "Wait, don't use the Dominator!" 

Yeah, this is fine.

(Give me your POWER, Please, and Thank You! Leave reviews and comments, they motivate me to continue.)