Just as he opened the door, a shrill voice burst through the kitchen.
"HELP!" Because of some unknown variable, Hal made his move much faster than before. Perhaps he was wary of Asher's interference, or perhaps it was from any number of other reasons.
This time, Asher didn't need to hide. He swung open the door, noticing the woman staggered against the wall.
The woman's eyes widened as she saw a young child blocking the doorway.
'Eh? The boy from earlier... What the- wings!?' Her eyes trailed down, and her jaw dropped comically. Asher's radiant outfit emitted a warm aura, with a hint of bloodthirst.
Hal charged at the woman who had her back facing him, raising his hands above his head to crack her skull.
But Asher didn't make the same mistake as last time. He pushed the woman to the side, blocking the ferocious blow using his Wingbeat.
The old man was shocked, not only by the steadiness of Asher's grip but also by the hungry grumble emitted from the boy's weapon.
The egg fluttered its wings. It was restless.
"What the hell? Who are you, a Fixer?" The more Hal thought, the more irrationally angry he became. He didn't blame his own actions whatsoever. Instead, he blamed the boy who caught him.
"I don't know what a Fixer is, but today is when your 'restaurant' closes!" As Asher thought about the delicious pie that he ate what seemed like days ago, he couldn't help but look down, nearly emptying his stomach again.
When he looked up again, Hal had already picked up the axe in the corner.
"Hah, you wouldn't understand! Do you know how many people I feed every day? People that couldn't survive without my help, I'm the only person who cares for them, I'm the only one they can rely on!"
He laughed maniacally, and Asher sensed the woman behind him shaking.
Asher shook his head, blocking the maniac's words from entering his mind. He merely twirled Wingbeat between his fingers, taunting the savage man.
Seeing Asher so calm, Hal became the opposite. He tore forward, swinging his axe with murderous intent, seasoned with a hint of unease.
The boy was strong. Hal didn't know why Asher was faking amnesia, but several guesses pointed toward a covert operation. And he could guess the target of the operation.
Although Asher was startled by Hal's sudden movement, he soon calmed himself. The movements of the man almost looked like they were in slow motion in his mind. He parried the first strike, flicking it to the side, creating a metallic screech.
The second strike, this time towards his head, was just as easy to deflect.
However, on Hal's third swing, his weapon took off on a mind of its own, too impatient to wait any longer. Fluttering its wings furiously, it crashed straight onto Hal's chin, lifting the man over two meters into the air and nearly pulling Asher's arm out of its socket.
Asher looked incredulously at the tiny club in his hand. Its wings flitted coyly, and he got a feeling whatever was inside there was licking its lips in satisfaction. It was such a strange feeling, being able to decipher so many emotions from a simple egg.
He turned his gaze back to the old man. The woman behind him gasped in shock.
The man's jaw had been smashed to flesh paste and shattered bone, dripping sickeningly to the ground, clump by clump. The blow was so sudden that Hal didn't even feel the pain of the impact. He looked at Asher in fear.
'An... undercover Fixer?' He meant to speak aloud, but he didn't even notice his ruined jaw.
"-!" Hal looked at his hands, only to find them covered in blood. He looked at the little child in front of him, who looked just as shocked as he was. Hal's eyes filled with terror.
The old man tried to crawl away, but his eyes unfocused and his body slumped forward.
Somehow, Asher knew that Hal had passed away. The fairy's egg on Wingbeat made a disappointed clicking noise.
Asher stepped backwards, away from the scene, only to bump into the woman that he forgot even existed.
'Dammit, I shouldn't have let her stay here.' Although Asher wasn't too phased by the gore due to the previous punishment mission and his now superhuman temperance, he could only imagine the thoughts flashing past the woman's mind.
Even though the woman looked hysteric, the look of terror on her face disappeared after she shut her eyes, reopening them to show glazed acceptance.
She even opened her mouth to speak, her voice shakily calm.
"You don't know what a Fixer is?" She accepted his hand, which pulled her up to her feet.
"Not in the slightest; I have amnesia, actually. Don't know what anything is." He canceled his transformation, reverting to his original clothes as the woman stared in muted curiosity.
"Oh... you could stay at my place for a while, then."
Asher looked at her with a guarded stare. He had experienced the 'hospitality' of the Backstreets twice now, with the man in the alley and old cannibal Hal. Even if he saved the woman out of his own volition, he was mature enough to realize the latent dangers of accepting the kindness of strangers.
Especially after dying a few times.
"Why?"
"If you didn't save me back there, I would've died. I don't have any money to spare, but the least I can do is not leave you on the streets. At night, staying in the street will bring a fate worse than death." She shivered visibly, propping her hand on the wall to stabilize herself.
The woman didn't care to explain further, reaching to grab her purse that was in the corner, but was again interrupted by a cough from Asher. His face practically begged her to explain what she meant. She looked at him in amazement.
How could a boy so skilled be so oblivious at the same time?
"When the streetlights dim every night, the Sweepers come out to hunt. Every person who wanders will disappear, never to be found again." She shuddered involuntarily; it seemed like someone important to her had this fate come upon them.
Asher fell silent. Did his increased Insight have any affect on detecting insincerity? He turned back to Hal's dead body.
"Do we have to do anything about this mess?"
She shook her head.
"That's the Fixers' mess to clean. They could be here any minute now, if you're thinking about staying here." She turned to leave, not wishing to be in this gory room any longer.
Asher glanced at the woman's fleeting figure.
"Hey, wait up! What's your name?" He ran after her, poking her in the back to get her attention.
"...It seems you're really just a child. My name's Mei, what's yours?"
The boy was cute. Seemed pretty innocent, too. She reached her hand up to pat his head, but hesitated at the last moment.
The memories she had of the fight that just occurred caused her hand to waver.
She shook those thoughts off and ruffled his hair gently.
Mei was used to these sorts of things. The Backstreets had molded her over the years. She saw Asher past a mere murderer. Mere murderers... the streets were filled with murderers, it was hardly a point of concern anymore.
After all, she was a murderer, too. In her defense, it was partially not her fault.
But that was a different story.
Mei saw someone who she could use and be used by, someone who could protect her from the dangers of the Backstreets.
Someone she didn't have to pay with money or her body.
A... mutualistic symbiosis.
"My name? I'm Asher!"
At this point, Mei didn't care if Asher was faking his childish personality or not.
He was still better than the 'protection' from any of the Five Fingers of the Backstreets, the Stars that ruled over everyone's lives with iron impunity.
A recording camera blinked in the corner as the two of them walked out.