Chapter 3 - A Brush with Chapter 3

So, who's up for a little psychological trauma? Cause there's going to be some when Basil recovers. *sings the `I love to inflict psychological trauma on a character occasionally' song*. Ooh, I had too much sugar today….And now that I think of it, the trauma won't come until the next chapter. DX (To understand this face; simply turn your head 90 degrees to your right.)



Faust and Dani left the campsite to obtain the antibiotics from a nearby 24 hour drugstore, while Rei, Rex, and their ward remained to keep a watch out.

“Rex, I don't suppose that April could use the mirror to find out who this guy is?” Rei asked, idly polishing the blades on his scythes.

“Mebbe.” Rex shrugged and created April's over soul. This time, she didn't sing, but instead pointed the mirror towards the third boy.

“Why didn't she sing?” Rei asked, slightly confused.

“Banshees only wail or sing when someone is going to die soon.” Rex explained. “I guess that our mystery hottie here would have died if we hadn't found him. So, because Faust operated on him, I guess he isn't going to die.” Rex turned his attention back to the mirror. “There's something forming.” He said.

“It looks like-I know them!” Rei knocked Rex out of the way, and watched the scene that played out in April's mirror. “That's Tao Len, Horohoro, or `Trey' as he prefers, and Yoh Asakura. I don't know who the guy with the weird suit, or the kid in the green are, though.” He said. “And it looks like this guy is attacking them.”

Rex and Rei leant towards the unconscious boy, who stirred slightly.

“…m-m-Master? Please….I...d-didn't…mean...to…attack...Yoh…” he whimpered, still asleep.

“Okay, I'm officially unnerved.” Rei said, leaning back. “Rex, can you look further back?”

The Irish shaman shrugged again. “I dunno mate. We must be close to wherever the attack happened; otherwise April wouldn't be picking up his memories of the fight so clearly.” He examined the mirror, which played the scene over and over again. “I don't think-”

“Oh, crap.” Rei breathed. “Rex, look who it is.” His finger hovered over the image of a man, dressed all in white, with glasses and ash blonde hair.

“The X-Laws.” They both said at the same time.

“We're ba-ack!” Dani sang, as she and Faust entered the clearing. “And we've got all the medical stuff we'll ever need. I swear, short of losing limbs, the good doctor here should be able to cure anything.”

“Of course, menacing them with your staff helped.” Faust said sarcastically. “Did you really need to threaten them with a swift decapitation?” he asked.

“They were givin' me lip!” the American necromancer protested, slinging her staff over her shoulder. “Anyway, let's tend to mystery boy, shall we?”



“Well, the stitches are holding, but I don't think we should move him. His ribs won't be good for much of anything for at least two months; they were severely broken.” Faust withdrew two scalpels from his coat pocket. “Rei, could you help me cut his shirt away? I'm afraid that the blood will clot it next to his skin, and if he moves, it would reopen.”

Rei nodded, and took one of the surgical tools. In less then a minute they had sliced the boy's ornate black jacket and white shirt away.

“Give `em here.” Rex beckoned. “I'll fix them up, since nobody thought to bring spare clothes with them.” He said.

“Well, it's not like we figured that we'd need anything other then maybe cold-weather clothes.” Dani replied, stirring the pot suspended over the campfire. “Rexi, maybe you should get the bloodstains off, before you sew them back together.” She suggested. “Try boiling it.”

“Are you mad?” Rex asked with a look of incredulous shock on his face. “This is 100% silk!” he held up the shirt. “And you want to boil it?”

Dani, Rei, Faust, DaVinci, and Tolstoy all sighed.



Where do I get this stuff from? I swear, I just make it up as I go along.

Anyhoo: By order of the Necromancer's Union, once you have read this story, you are obliged to comment on it, or else you will be torn apart by an army of skeletons, and then pressed into servitude. Yup, we're a diabolical bunch of necromancers.

Basically, that's me saying `Comment until your hands drop off, or you'll be torn apart by skeletons and made to work for me, or another necromancer.' Heehee.

Also: I'm sorry for ending it in such an abrupt note, but c'est la vie. (A phrase which here means `Meh') I. Must. Stop. Reading. A Series of Unfortunate Events. Books.

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