Our Devils, page 39
Marcus’s physical changes were almost as dramatic as Aaron’s. He had shaved his hair down into a tight fade and filled out his frame with new lean muscles that his armor struggled to contain. Soon he had to swap pieces out for larger ones, choosing a matte-black set with cerulean blue accents in Aster’s own shade. His martial arts training had made progress, but it could barely hold a candle to Jess’s superior technique. So he relied on strength to break her holds and toss her around the ring, still eventually losing in a bombastic third round.
Danny and Chuy, too, were becoming monstrous in their own rights. Danny trained with his bladed oar and firearms in equal measure, thinking it would be best to have at least one more gunner in the gang. His new muscles came in lean, allowing him to fight like Marcus’s earlier days. Chuy opted for a solid metal baseball bat, and by the third day he could literally ram it through a training dummy and out the other side. It was a frightening sight, and everyone was glad he was on their side.
Soon, more bonded pairs showed up, one by one. Brenda was a fierce, young girl with meticulously tight braids and a competitive streak. Her partner was Octavia, who looked a little bit like a red and white ostrich with razor-sharp talons. Arzoo was a taller woman in her thirties, a true team player from the start. Her partner was a black and white bipedal devil named Gibson, who had a shock of green hair on his head and a wrecking ball on his tail. Marcus and Aaron argued about whether he looked more like a possum or a skunk.
At one point, a couple of new FBI agents stopped by with a shiny black panel van. Marcus recognized Agent Mesita immediately, from their meeting at San Judah Inn. “How can I help you?” asked Marcus.
“You already have.” The agent beamed and opened the trunk. “In fact, we wanted to say thanks.”
Scar Gang grouped around as the agents handed out long hardshell boxes. They popped them open as their faces lit up, one by one.
Marcus hefted his sleek, matte-black katana, perfectly weighted and wickedly sharp. A thin bit of blue and yellow was woven into the handle, reflecting Aster’s colors. Marcus lifted it skyward, grinning ear to ear, and thanked the agent profusely. The agent responded with another box of matching kunai.
Next was a massive, gunmetal grey axe for Aaron, with a wicked sharp edge on one side and a nasty spike on the other. The next case contained a set of four hand axes, which thanks to his enhanced strength, doubled as throwing axes. All incorporated some element of Pulsar’s green, making for a perfect set. He tested out a throwing axe immediately, lodging it nearly to the hilt on a wooden target, and grinned from ear to ear.
They went down the line, gift after gift, each thoughtfully constructed beyond aesthetics alone. To Jess they gave a Roman gladius with a shock of pink across the handle, along with a pair of black .50 caliber pistols with pink mother-of-pearl handles. She would always turn to firearms first, but Jess quickly took to the sword as well.
Danny and Chuy received theirs next. Danny’s new double-ended oar was a treat. Chuy hefted a heavy spiked baseball bat with apple red and turquoise accents. Brenda claimed her matching knives. Arzoo hefted her spear. The FBI didn’t know about the newest additions to Scar Gang until after they arrived, promising to return the next day with arms for Chae-sun and Jayce.
Nat received her weapons last: a pair of fiendishly large kamas with thin stripes of purple around the hilts. The gift came with a back holster for the kamas and hip holsters for her matching submachine guys, which she soon practiced reloading until her fingers went numb.
Marcus stepped up again to thank the agents, perhaps saving a private word to one of them, and then they were off. Then Scar Gang got to work demolishing a fresh set of targets, getting used to heft and balance of their new gear. They tore apart barrels and split wooden throwing targets down the middle, and soon they had to hunt around for more.
But as much as the humans had progressed, it was no match for their devils. The FBI connections brought them an improved version of Burn Ward, which they called Preparation K8. It didn’t taste great, and no one seemed to like the name, but its effect on the devils was nothing short of profound.
By the end of the week, Orion had grown back to seven feet tall. Two more eyes had emerged on her enormous face, bringing the total to five. Her horns, too, had grown into a thick and sturdy crown. Instead of arming herself with ranged attacks, she trained with Nat riding a harness on her back. Together they swooped and dived at targets as Nat fired with surprising accuracy, blowing through one after another.
Titan had finally grown into her name, quickly outpacing the others in terms of sheer mass. She stood a magnificent eight feet tall and many hundreds of pounds, but her overall figure had developed into an hourglass shape. While she still moved slowly out of combat, in the heat of it she was a force of nature, her claws tearing through steel barrels like tissue paper. She could shove her horn through any target with no more than a quick grunt of effort. The others were happy that she was on their side.
Bradbury’s stature wasn’t far behind, standing a little over seven feet tall. He stood more fully erect now, his proportions much more like a human man’s. Specifically, a very fit, very muscly human man. His feathery chest rippled with fresh, broad muscles, his arms and legs enormous. Jess caught at least two of the JTF’s women, and at least one of the men, staring. She couldn’t blame them.
Verne had one of the more surprising changes. The little monkey had grown to a little more than three feet tall, and a second pair of arms sprouted below the first. She continued to be extremely nimble, soon cartwheeling with all six limbs to avoid attacks. Her hands developed, too, to the point where she could hold four different handguns at the same time. But before Jess allowed it, she insisted on teaching her devil proper shooting technique, starting with a single handgun. Once satisfied, Verne graduated to dual wielding. It took another two days of strict training and complaining before the devil was finally allowed to use all four. Then the devil surprised the human by adding a fifth—her tail had the most accurate shot placement of all.
While Aster never grew much above five feet, he packed on a ridiculous amount of mass, soon topping three hundred pounds. His limbs swelled like tree trunks and his torso developed a muscular potbelly. His yellow mohawk and goatee grew long and distinctive, and together with his bandolier he looked like some sort of demonic street punk. His black tactical loincloth only added to the look. Watching him move that much mass using only his tongue was surreal to see, and his paddle ball attack could crack the hardest earth with a single hit.
But for all their changes, Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off his own devil. By then, the hare stood a full seven feet tall, or eight and a half at the tips of his many pairs of ears. His snout had grown longer and more bestial, his brow sharper and more well-defined. He traded his old headband in for an even longer one—he liked the dramatic way it trailed behind him as he moved. His hips and thighs had grown out with significant muscle, offsetting his very thin waist, and Aaron watched as his enormous arms tore through target after target, barrel after barrel, never showing any signs of stopping. He knew it was still the little devil he’d known all along, but in moments he looked so completely alien.
After a long exercise, Pulsar stopped for a K8. His gummy, snarly voice had dropped only a bit lower than before. “Gonna gawk or are we gonna train?”
“I was just about to get back to it,” said Aaron, pounding another drink himself.
“Do you want to try something crazy?” There was a mischievous glint in Pulsar’s eye that Aaron would never get sick of.
“Fuck yeah I do.” The human crushed the bottle and tossed it in a bin. “Whatcha got?”
Minutes later they were running through the grasslands, Aaron riding the beast like a horse and holding on for dear life. Pulsar still wasn’t that much bigger than him, all things concerned, but his strength far eclipsed his size. He yelled back at Aaron to stop holding his ears so tight, and the human struggled to reposition his grip at full speed.
Orion flew up with Nat strapped to her back, challenging them to race. They bolted across hills, leaping and dodging and winding. Orion took the lead as they arrived back at the training grounds. Several agents stopped to cheer as they landed.
The days blurred by as they grew stronger, and faster, and fiercer. Marcus realized one day that his big ginger friend was nowhere to be seen, but Declan returned the next day with a fresh devil by his side: a funny little guy that looked halfway between a pug and a pufferfish. Another paired in the days to come, and then another. Marcus fought to successfully retain his dominance over the newly paired JTF operators, but they could finally give him a run for his money.
Chapter 87
The FBI returned the next day with more weapons for the newest Scar Gang humans, finding even more when they arrived. They returned again with even more weapons and an assortment of small vehicles, mostly dirt bikes and ATVs. As the resident gearhead, Nat gave everyone a crash course, M1 licenses be damned.
Danny pitched the idea of developing a small playbook for the team, and that caught on like wildfire. Some of them were based on football plays, like the Hail Mary and the Hammer. Aaron and Marcus quickly jumped in to develop a few more, like the Thousand Cuts and Glass Cannon. Aaron was especially proud of a flashy one he came up with, called Namesake.
Each day they trained until sunset and each night they retreated to the trailer park. Aaron beamed with pride as new trailers lit up one by one. Hugh would send them briefs on new Agency D developments, like new bonding attempts and tactical updates from their FBI allies. They learned that Trinity City had been fully evacuated, a city of 300,000 reduced to a ghost town. They learned that the JTF had fully deployed throughout the region to help with their worst-case scenarios. They learned that production on the Harmer Center for Gate Study was going ahead after the Gate closed. Aaron was tickled pink that Hugh actually kept the name.
Their numbers swelled until Scar Gang had to hunt around for more fire pit benches. But at the end of the day, everyone was too exhausted for any kind of party, and many stayed sober for the fights to come.
Aaron was not one of those people. He figured that a little weed was a great way to relieve muscle stress and get a good night’s sleep without risking a hangover. And more weed would help even more. It was almost like he enjoyed the stuff.
For the first time in a long time, Aaron had to help Pulsar light the bong, because the devil’s huge hands struggled with the tiny lighter. The huge devil grumbled with embarrassment. Aaron put in a request on the group chat and got his devil a huge novelty lighter. Pulsar thought it was hilarious and he put it to good use.
Bradbury clapped Nat on the shoulder. “Good spar today.”
“You too,” she smiled back. There weren’t a lot of people who could go toe-to-toe with a four hundred pound triceratops, but Nat made it look easy. Judo, after all, was all about using your opponent’s weight against them.
Fresh off a bong rip, Marcus looked up just in time to see his not-so-little frog wandering off into the grassland on his own. Marcus bound up to follow him, ignoring the protests from his overworked calves. He found the frog staring up at the sky, alone.
The human called to him from a short distance. “Is this a private party?”
The devil smiled from his seat on the ground. “Not anymore.” His voice had dropped a little ways, but it was still a tiny squeak compared to his massive frame.
Marcus sat with him, and together they looked up at the stars for the first time since the quarry. Wispy clouds crawled along the sky, ushered by a gentle breeze. Aster was the first to break the silence. “Do you think there’s anyone living up there?”
“Aliens? I like to think so.” Marcus leaned back on the hard earth with Aster beside him, and the devil dug his monstrous toes into the dirt. “I already know we’re not the only intelligent life out there.”
“We’re not that smart,” smiled the devil. “Your people accomplish so much more.”
“We’re all out of our depth.” Marcus smiled sadly, taking some small comfort in the fact. “It’s amazing we get anything done at all.”
Aster looked west, to the faint glow of San Judah staining the horizon. He ran his meaty fingers along his bandolier, admiring the craftsmanship. “And yet.”
“As a species, sure,” said Marcus. “But me? I’m just a dumbass who can swing a sword.” Then a handful of dirt hit him in the face, leaving him sputtering. “The fuck, Aster?”
The frog laughed hard, his big belly heaving. “Anyone who has a problem with my human has to deal with me.”
Marcus threw a handful back at his frog, who took the hit as a good sport. “I can stand up for myself, fly breath.”
“You should try it sometime,” teased the devil, his yellow eyes gleaming in the starlight. Then his shoulders dropped a bit and he leaned back again. “I won’t be here to stand up for you forever.”
“I know you won’t, bro.” Marcus took a deep breath, trying to make the moment last. “Thank you.”
“For what?” asked the devil.
“For keeping me on the right track.” His eyes began to glisten in the starlight. “For making me so, so fucking strong. For making me better.”
“That’s all you.” The frog closed his eyes and smiled. “I just bit you.”
Chapter 88
Jess never got used to sleeping in her trailer. Her apartment in Trinity City was small and straightforward, just the way she liked it. The darkness and silence of the trailer just seemed too vast by comparison.
It was four in the morning and she was wide awake for no good reason. She used the bathroom for a while, flicking idly through her phone as stories came and went. A viral clip of Pulsar kept popping up. On screen, the devil slipped and fell in a pool of his own blood at the energy drink launch. She scrolled further and found the same video, set to upbeat music. Angry people circling individual frames, and walls of text. Versions intercut with memes and irrelevant game footage and all the usual garbage.
After so many years of keeping the devils a secret, Jess had a hard time wrapping her head around the enormity of what was unfolding. She remembered the day that Hugh gave her the order to make contact with Aaron and Pulsar, insisting on a gentle touch. He asked her as a personal favor to leave her weapon in the car and to go alone. “We need to start off on the right foot,” he said. “If you feel threatened, just start moving. We’ll be there.”
Of course he was right, but he must have known that letting the pair run free risked exposure. Maybe that was his plan all along? It was the FBI’s job to handle the cover ups, but Hugh had the final say on who they could or couldn’t intercept. And he immediately put the pause on Aaron and Marcus, as soon as Agency D knew about them. Jess scrolled further down the feed to photos of Pulsar walking around town in an enormous hoodie with one ear sticking straight up. She laughed at half-obscured photos of him slurping ramen, and skipping through a parking lot, and generally just being a menace. If anyone could make the world warm up to devils, Pulsar could.
Soon, the posts gave way to thirstier material about the devils. It seems the general public had a lot of love for Pulsar in particular, and some of it went farther than others. First were the comments, and the captions. Then, the fan art and the fan fiction. She scrolled past a clip of Pulsar with his feet propped up, wiggling his piggies for the camera, and Jess broke into an honest laugh.
She thought back to the night she spent with him, just outside that bathroom door. She kicked herself for crossing that line, hoping that she didn’t drive a wedge between Aaron and his devil. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. She considered apologizing to Aaron, but the thought of even admitting what she did made her gut churn.
Another part of her could still feel the devil there. She could still smell his fur. She shivered and stuffed that part away.
Jess finished her business and walked out to an empty bedroom. For a brief moment she panicked, but soon she found her devil on the porch. Jess stepped out to join her. “You couldn’t sleep either?”
“No,” said Verne. Her white mohawk looked matted and floppy. “I had a bad dream.”
“Tell me.” Jess sat down and wrapped an arm around her.
The devil sighed and held onto Jess’s arm with several of hers. “I had a dream that you were looking for me under seat cushions.”
“Yeah?” Jess chuckled nervously.
“You were looking everywhere. I think you opened a mailbox. Then you started walking, calling out for me. You were skinny. Not healthy. I think you didn’t know I went home.”
She rubbed her devil’s back, trying to give her some small comfort. “It’s okay. I know where you’re going. I know you’ll survive.”
“I’m sick of surviving.” The devil’s voice turned down into a grumble. “All I do is survive.”
Jess started to worry. “What? What do you mean?”
Verne realized she was upsetting Jess and toned it down. “Pulsar and Aster told me how much fun they had before they came here. Living in an apartment. Playing at the quarry. Eating in a real restaurant. I never got to have any of that.”
Jess held her devil closer, trying to squeeze a bit of peace into her. “It’s not over yet. We’re going to work our asses off to get the Gate open again.”
“More work.” The devil sighed with a grunt. “I tell you we work too much and your answer is more work.”
“To see you again? That’s worth it.”
“Dammit, Jess.” Verne hung her head and took in the floorboards. “Promise me something.”
“What?” asked her human.
“Promise me you’ll actually live when I’m gone.” She squeezed her human’s hand with one of hers, and her arm with another. “There are a million things we never got to do, but what’s stopping you? Seriously, what?”
