forum “How Could You?” “No. How Could 𝘠𝘰𝘶.” | REBOOT, CLOSED.

Started Aug 22 by @Satoris

tune

@EldritchHorror-Davadio
@CaseyJ
@Tired-but-passionate
@StarkSpangledMayflower

(So sorry this took me so long, the writer's block has been relentless. Hopefully this works out well as a starter! If you have any questions or suggestions please let me know!)

Source Thread

Synopsis: Thirteen years ago, a young team of children were brought together to save the world. The cost, however, was great: The life of one of their own in the fight against the Great Evil.

Peace was restored to all but the hearts of the remaining heroes, who were left to their grief. Most were consoled by the knowledge that their dear friend’s sacrifice was not in vain.

One was not. For this person knew the truth behind what happened that day; the truth behind their fallen comrade’s sacrifice. An event not rooted purely in nobility, but tinged with the betrayal of someone who, for unknown reasons, would turn their back to a friend's cries for help.

It was a truth that was doomed to the shadows with the death of their teammate, a long thirteen years ago.

Except, the story doesn’t end there.

No, now a new evil is on the rise, and the remnants of our heroes’ team are determined to stop it. But what happens when that evil wears the face of their old childhood friend, long thought to be dead?

What lengths will the others go to stop the rapidly unfolding events?

---

Re-posting our characters here for quick reference!!

Villain: Dusk by @Tired-but-passionate
Friend Who Knows: Jess by @CaseyJ

Others:
// Franklyn by @EldritchHorror-Davadio
// Ella by @Tired-but-passionate
// Mingzhi by @Satoris
// Mavis by @StarkSpangledMayflower

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STARTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“You feel the earth tremble beneath your feet. Rivulets of water pool on the surface and begin to rise. More water joins it, and then more–a fountain as large as a building, now. Before your very eyes it takes shape, the watery ghost of…” The speaker leaned forward, tanned fingers closing over the top of the screen separating him from the players seated at his table.

“A leviathan. ” Mingzhi laid the screen flat, signaling the abrupt end of the session. The table instantly broke out into uproarious chatter, which was flattering given there were only five players.

“Zhi, you evil fvck!” A younger man with fading pink hair stood up, pointing dramatically at the game master. He had a definitive pout on his face, “That cliffhanger is unfairly cruel!”

Mingzhi grinned. “You really think so? I thought that after the last beating your party took, you might like a chance to strategize.”

The younger had the audacity to look offended. That was before Lin pinched his ear.

“Ow!”

“Yeah, Zeke, maybe if our healer wasn't out here provoking fights every five seconds, we wouldn't be in this situation,” Lin accused, though her eyes were creased with laughter.

“How is this my fault?”

The other players, Eviee, Wally, and Terrance, promptly raised their voices in joined outrage.

Mingzhi laughed quietly to himself, packing away his papers and pulling the drawstring tight around his bag of dice. He had long since learned to take his leave before getting dragged into an argument, as entertaining as they often were. “I’m headed out, everyone. Same time next week!”

He pointed at them to make sure he was heard, then flashed his palm in a lazy wave and ducked through the parted curtains currently acting as the door. If any of them had questions, they knew right where to find him.

A ding from his phone abruptly caught his attention. It wasn’t often he received texts, given the majority of people he spoke to lived within view. Those who didn’t live near knew well enough to call him, lest risk their message getting forgotten. He was a busy man, after all.

‘Well, I have a moment now.’

In just a few minutes he found himself at his own front door. He made the short journey up the wooden steps, toeing off his sandals at the top before stepping into the shipping container he called his room. Nudging the door shut with his foot, he set his folder, screen, and dice bag onto the dresser directly to his right.

Mingzhi glanced in the mirror above it, noticing his bun had come loose. Setting his phone, open to recent conversations, on the dresser, he tugged the band out of his hair to redo it. Tying his hair was such a well-practiced routine by now that he didn’t rely on the mirror, and so his eyes drifted to the open text on his screen.

The band fell from between his lips.

Mingzhi stood frozen, both hands in his hair, at the contact names glaring up at him.

‘We need to talk.’

Slowly, Mingzhi released his hair. It draped over his shoulders as he picked up his phone, an unfamiliar intensity written into his expression. His hesitation lasted a moment longer, then he typed out a response to all recipients.

‘Dinner at my place?’
[Mingzhi shared his location.]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mingzhi’s place wasn’t exactly a typical residency. He knew that, and now his old childhood friends would know it, too. His feelings on the matter were admittedly mixed, but that didn’t deter him from acting as a pleasant host. He had, after all, been the one to invite them.

After warning the rest of the small community that they would be having company, and that they were to discuss private matters, he began to get ready. He changed out of his lounge clothes and into something a bit more impressionable, finding a dark blue button up that he tucked into gray slacks. He slipped on his favorite watch and belt, then finished off the outfit with a pair of brown dress shoes. This time he only pulled his hair half up, pausing to glance at himself either side in the mirror.

Would they even recognize him, he wondered, when nearly every aspect of his appearance had changed so dramatically? He didn’t used to be so athletic-looking, nor so tan. As a nineteen-year old he was gangly, awkward, not yet grown into his looks and pale from a lack of sunlight. His face had been thin as opposed to how his cheeks had filled out over the years, a pleasant effect of reaching a healthier weight. Not to mention his hair, which had barely even fallen to his ears at the time.

He blinked himself out of those thoughts and decided against a tie, thinking it silly to greet old friends so formally.

Smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt, he set out to the front gates. If the matter was as urgent as he inferred, it wouldn’t be long until his visitors arrived. Before that, however…

A gray SUV crawled past the chain-link fence, gravel crunching beneath the tires as they turned to point at the nearby garage.

“Lawrence! Great timing,” Mingzhi called, waving his arm to grab the driver’s attention and picking up his pace. The SUV stopped, and a blonde man in his late forties craned his head to look out the window. His hair was cropped short and he was wearing a flannel to guard against the dusk chill. It seemed all he was missing was a cowboy hat and a piece of straw to clamp between his teeth.

“Mingzhi, hey! I got the stuff ya asked for,” Lawrence said, gesturing to a seat full of takeout bags. The southern man’s careful pronunciation of his name always sounded out of place to his typical drawl, but Mingzhi appreciated the effort.

“Thanks, Law. Mind bringing them to my studio for me?” As he asked, Mingzhi reached for his wallet and handed a few bills to the other man. Lawrence shook his head and tried to give it back, but Mingzhi was firm. “You went out of your way to pick up food for me, I’m not letting you pay for it, too.”

Though reluctant, the driver nodded and took the bills. “Oh, by the way, I spotted another car followin’ me in. Figured it was yer company, else I woulda said somethin’ sooner.”

“Thanks again. I appreciate your help.”

“Please, Lord knows you’ve helped us all enough,” Lawrence snorted, shaking his head again good-naturedly and then waving Mingzhi away. Leaving the man to park and manage the food, Mingzhi turned to regard the gate. It was true; he heard another engine, now, approaching from the beaten down road.

He rolled up his sleeves, thumbing over his dragon tattoo affectionately in the process, and stood by the fence to wait.

When the car finally crossed the threshold, he stepped forward to greet them. “It’s been a long time.”

The meeting seemed to drag on forever. The ticking of the crystal clock in the corner of the room sounded like it was echoing in his head the longer the client droned on, and Franklyn was beginning to lose his mind.
Every day. Every day he walked into this office, he felt little pieces of his soul sloughing off at the door. He'd been here too long already, and he was only 21. His father's expectation of him taking over the company one day felt like a physical weight on his shoulders when he thought about it.
These meetings always caused particularly morose thoughts to go through his head as he let his mind wander in the soul-numbing boredom. It would have been better if he'd been able to fidget, to tinker with one of his smaller projects while the account managers and clients prattled on and on and on, but that had been stopped years ago when his father decided it was disrespectful to their clients.
As Franklyn was suppressing a frown at the memory, the little clock in the corner chimed, signaling it was 5:00. Franklyn glanced up from where he'd been staring at the tabletop without realizing it, and the presenter actually seemed to be trying to respect their time and wrap things up.

"With all that in mind, we're thinking a slightly higher investment stake than the initially agreed upon 13.5% might be in order. We're open to negotiation of a number above 17%, if you're amenable to that." The client glanced from Franklyn to Mr. McKreedy, one of the financial officers in on the meeting.

Franklyn shrugged and nodded at Mr. McKreedy. "Jon, if you think my father would be ok with this, I have no objections." When the older man gave a slow nod, Franklyn leaned forward and unfolded his hands. "Well, in that case, I'll leave you gentlemen to work on the details. It's 5:00, and I still have paperwork to do." He stood, and the room stood with him, a tradition his father had started that he hated. A quick handshake with the client, a few brisk steps, and he was out of the glass doors and heading out of the office, into the sunlight, towards a few hours of freedom.

The outside world always looked so beautiful at the end of the day, and Franklyn was enjoying it today. His walk down from the main office to the street below was always one of the parts of his day he enjoyed most. The contrast from office air to the fresh breezes outside always made him smile a little bit.
His phone buzzed, and he paused to check it. If it was Father, he might be in trouble, and that was something he needed to know immediately.

'We need to talk.'

It was an unknown number. A group chat, in fact, with a set of unknown numbers. He had no idea who this was, though the area code… It can't be… after all this time… how did they get my number?

Before he had time to decide how to react, a second message buzzed.

'Dinner at my place?'
And a shared location.

Franklyn's eyebrows shot up. That location was in the heart of some of his old stomping grounds, before his parents had put a stop to much of his freedom. It HAS to be them…
He stood there a moment longer, trying to think up an adequate reply, before deciding against it. People skills outside of business deals weren't his strong suit.
He hurried down the long set of steps towards the street, where Jameson was waiting with the car.
"Good afternoon, sir, headed home as usual?" Jameson opened the door for him, and Franklyn got in, hating the formality his driver was required to use in front of the business.

"Uh, no, not today. Got a location for you." He pulled up the spot, and sent it to Jameson's phone, linked to the car's onboard navigation. His driver got in, and Franklyn took a deep breath.

"Ah, ok. All the way over on the other side of town, huh?" The sharp shift in tone from formal to familiar was another of Franklyn's little joys. Jameson was a dear friend, but in front of the Berg's, he had to pretend to be just an employee. Franklyn hated that part.

"Yeah, bit of a jaunt, but… I think it's worth it."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The drive was something like 45 minutes, so Franklyn had time to think. Time to overthink, in fact.
If this was his old group of friends, then he had a lot of catching up to do. 13 years was a long time, and his parents' enforced silence had turned these people into strangers. It appeared that they had all stayed in the same general area, which meant he could have had continued friendships… but thinking about that was making him sad.
13 years. Thinking about the last time he'd seen his friends brought back a flood of memories he'd stored away in dark corners of his mind, memories of a day that had been one of the best and worst of his life.
He'd been 8, the rest of the group a little older. The threat had been massive, world-ending even, and his young mind hadn't fully grasped the danger. Not until they'd lost-…. well. Not until he'd experienced loss the first time. Had seen heroic death and watched his friends save the world in noble fashion. A rag tag group of kids, with various backgrounds and quirks, issues and failings… they had come together to do something amazing. And when one of them had fallen, the rest had stepped up and continued to make the world a better place.
Franklyn had returned from that biggest of fights with wounds, injuries that had made his parents afraid. They had reacted by sequestering him, keeping him a functional prisoner in his own gilded prison for years. Homeschooled by the finest tutors, cooked for by world-class chefs, cared for by in-home nurses and professional nannies, he never had a reason to leave… or to have contact with the outside world. Or his friends.
And so the years had passed. He had never forgotten those kids he'd saved the world with, but by the time he turned 18 and was given a bit more freedom, he had such deep guilt about his lack of contact that he hadn't even tried to find them. They'd probably forgotten he existed, Franklyn told himself. Their lives would have been too full of meaningful things to remember some snot-nosed rich kid from their childhood.

The texts on his phone showed otherwise. Somehow, they'd gotten his contact info. It wouldn't have been hard. As one of the vice-presidents of his father's company, at 21, very little about his life was truly private. At 18, he'd been sent off to university, where he'd graduated in record time; and now he was a part of a mega-corporation raking in money hand over fist. No, finding his number wasn't the hard part.

It was the fact they'd remembered him that shocked him. They had invited him to this dinner, without question. Something in Franklyn's chest warmed at the thought. He wasn't sure if it was nerves, or excitement, or gratitude, or fear, but… this made him feel, which he was unused to doing.

They pulled up to the location, and Jameson slowed to a stop. "Uh, you sure this is the place, Franky? Looks…. not like what I was expecting."

Franklyn looked up through the tinted windows of his vehicle, his eyes widening at the sight. It appeared to be an old coach yard, made over into… quite a nice living situation. A bit unorthodox, but as he thought about it, a half-smile slid across his face. Of course. Think about who these people are.
"This is it, Jamie. Pull out of sight and wait for me?" He went to open the door and step out, swallowing hard as something rose in his throat.

"Sure thing. Oh, you might want these." Jameson leaned back, holding out a set of beat up fingerless leather gloves. Franklyn stopped just long enough to snag them, his half-smile growing as Jameson made sure he had what he needed. "Just in case."

A nod, and Franklyn was out of the car and into the sunlight. He put the gloves in his pocket and adjusted his light gray suit as he walked up the little path from the road to the gate. I should have changed… nobody else is going to show up to this in a full suit with a tie… oh well.
Someone was walking down from the fence to meet him, and Franklyn's eyes widened as memories flooded through his head. His host offered a greeting, but Franklyn had stopped moving as realization slammed into him.

"….Mingzhi?"

Justin had been looking at his phone since he saw the texts, sitting in the park where he had just finished another sculpture, this one was a child flying a kite, it wouldnt last long, but the weather called for a cloudy day, at least over the park. He didn't know how to feel, he hadn't talked to the rest of the group, at least not together, in years. They saved the world together, and Justin was the last one to see Dusk alive, at least until the fire he recently helped put out. He didn't do much hero stuff anymore, but his roomate worked at the fire house, and Justin didn't mind helping with that. He stood up, deciding to go to the dinner, though he thought he knew what it was about, Dusk. He checked the address, it was a bit of a ways away, but if he walked, he would get there right on time to meet up, so that's what he did.

Ella couldn’t sleep. Normally a nap was required to recover from work, but her brain wouldn’t let her. She stared at the ceiling of her apartment, watching its color shift from grayish to a light beige as time passed and weather shifted. She looked over from where she was on the couch to the cage to the side, where her mice slept. At least they could. She sighed.
The fire never left her mind. Not since the previous evening. When she closed her eyes, she saw it raging, the smoke billowing high, and she felt anything but sleepy. She searched it. What had he seen that she didn’t? She came away with nothing. Instead the fire disappeared, to be replaced by a crying, coughing child. The most she could do was help them, heal them. And then, more people needed her help. Thank goodness he showed up, her old friend.
Her old friend…
Ella reached over and grabbed her phone. She scrolled through her messages until she found those familiar names from so many years ago. She still kept their numbers and other contact information. Why wouldn’t she? They had helped her so much when she needed it the most. She still thought fondly of them. But the chats were bare and pushed the bottom. Stop being a hero, and life tends to splinter. But she still couldn’t get the fire out of her head. How her old friend came to her, murmuring about a figure dashing between the flames.
Whatever the case, it wouldn’t hurt to check in. Right? Ella pressed the small plus sign, typed in all the numbers. Et voilà, a new group chat, fresh and ready to go. She almost felt bad. Should she really be dragging them all back into this, when memories from back then still carried so much baggage? She stared at her keyboard, the blinking line in the blank text bar. Before she could convince herself not to, she started pressing the keys.
We need to talk.
She put the phone down. She fully expected that message to sit there, unanswered, for hours, maybe even days. She closed her eyes. Now that she had done that, maybe she could nap.
A ding! made her eyes flash open again. She grabbed the phone. A smile tugged at her lips. She blinked to keep tears from filling her eyes. She took a few breaths, then rolled off the couch. How could she not accept the generous offer?

The sound of squeaking shoes filled the room as Mavis danced around the table, moving to the sound of the music flowing through her headphones while making marks on the piece of fabric spread out over the table. This new custom piece was a request from a friend of a friend, or rather the current flame of a former beau.
It was a little strange hearing from Zach after so long. Even though their breakup was a mutual agreement, their friendship was still a long-distance one. Regardless, she was thrilled that he had found someone after completing his studies, and that he was planning on proposing! Mavis had met with his future fiance, Bella, to make a plan of what she was thinking. To her, this was just an elegant dress that Zach was gifting to her. Mavis hoped she was able to contain herself long enough for the surprise to take place.
With the main part of the dress done, Mavis was working on the embellishments and outer layer. There was maybe a day's work left to it. At least, that was before she took off her music to read the text messages.

We need to talk.

It didn't click immediately. Who was Ella? And all these other numbers? She had just one number saved and the rest didn't seem familiar to her. Even still, the name was oddly familiar to her. She didn't have too long to think about it once the second text popped up along with a location. Her fingers froze before she pressed the location. There was no way. The only Ella she knew was someone from 13 years ago. She quickly pressed the details of the chat and counted the number of people added to the group. there were 4. Mavis had a good idea of who those 4 were. She made sure that the pieces were drawn onto the fabric before running out of her sewing room and upstairs to her room. Mavis opened her closet and grabbed a white sleeveless wrap top, black dress pants, and a black coat. She put everything on, grabbed her bag and packed it with a few essentials, then made her way to her car.
The GPS led her down a pretty straightforward path but Mavis was still nervous. She kept tapping her hands on the steering wheel and biting her lip, she had no idea what to expect. An alert from the GPS told her that the location was just a few metres away. As she parked her car and walked out, She saw 2 people standing outside having what seemed like a very one-sided conversation. Mavis silently walked closer, waiting for someone else to acknowledge her. What was she going to say?

At the sight of his old friend, Mingzhi blinked in surprise. Then his expression warmed, a smile spreading across his face so wide his eyes turned to crescents. "Franklyn." He crossed the distance between them in a few strides, reaching out to clap Franklyn on the shoulder before pulling him into a bear hug.

"I'm glad you came," he rumbled, voice heavy with nostalgia. He pulled away shortly; the last thing he wanted was to make the younger uncomfortable. It had been thirteen years, after all—a fact impossible to forget in the face of the adult now facing him. He had grown, of course, in both body and mind, and yet the Franklyn before him possessed that same glimmer of curiosity in his eyes that he had at eight.

A faint crunching of leaves in the near distance grabbed his attention. He turned and spotted Mavis approaching, looking hesitant but healthy. Satisfaction curled in his chest as he beckoned her closer. "Hello to you as well, Mave," he welcomed, a soft look on his face. He elected not to pull her into a hug like he had with Franklyn, worried he may spook her with the unspoken tension in the air, but he briefly rested a hand on her shoulder nevertheless. An open invitation and greeting. (And if he privately noted the absence of any new visible bruises, no one had to know. Old habits die hard.)

"It's good to see you both. You look well," he spoke, eyes then flicking to the road. The others would be here soon, too—he could feel it.