A Love Affair Brought to You by the Emotionally Stunted

[Charlie Nausikaa]

Tareth Thorn. Tareth Thorn. Tareth Thorn. The name was always rattling around in the back of her mind just waiting for an opportunity to press its way to the forefront. Whenever she heard it dropped by another, it was a knife to the gut. Where did they get the right to mention him? Where did they get the right thinking that they knew him?

God, she still loved him. She missed him pushing up the brim of that hat of his to flash her that smile that he bestowed on her alone. She craved the feel of him rolling over in the middle of the night to scoop her into his arms for comfort. There were long afternoons she spent in her office at HoR in which she would still perk every time she heard the bell twinkle on the front door, wondering if this time he really was back to ravage her once more on her desk.

Tareth Thorn. Tareth Thorn. Tareth Thorn. The singsong quality of his name mocked her in her own mind. Oh, how easily she thought she would rid her life of him! He would do almost anything for her. He would die for her. He just would not or could not put roots down for her.

And how she hated him! His stunning commentary on her many flaws was acutely accurate and could leave her feeling two feet tall. She was irked by the sight of the alarm system he installed in her home but which she had not been able to figure out how to arm since he had left.

“Damn you, Tareth Thorn. Damn you straight to hell.”

Her elbows dropped onto her kitchen table and she buried her face in her palms. Her signed annulment papers sat beneath her elbows just waiting to be picked up by messenger and returned to her lawyers for filing. Sure, outwardly it would make much more sense if she was cursing Cor. He was, after all, the man to whom she had been married and he was the one who slept with another woman a mere twelve hours after she had told him that she was ending that marriage.

Cor had offered her a life, a future, and everything that would go along with it. Yet, she had spurned his offer and spit in the face of that future so many times that in the end he had sought solace in the arms of another woman. Could she really blame him for that? No, she blamed Tareth.

There were mornings when she’d feel a scratchy face of stubble against her cheek and in her half-awake state she would smile believing it to be Tareth. Yet, when she opened her eyes, it was not the rough, scarred visage of her savior but Cor with his wholesome sweetness. Then she would be left wracked with guilt for not being appropriately grateful for the man that she had in bed with her.

Thus, it was Tareth’s fault. And it was her own heart’s fault as well. She had been betrayed by them both.

Tareth Thorn. Tears welled up behind her eyes. She tightened her bottom jaw to fight them back. Tareth Thorn. They threatened to spill over all the same. Her fists curled into angry little balls. Tareth Thorn. The salty wash spilled over and slowly streaked down her cheeks to fall to the annulment papers. Tareth F’ing Thorn.

[Tareth Thorn]

"Does anybody see him?"

With a tall can hat, red velour button-over vest and those jackboots, the soldiers looked like some throwbacks from the American Revolution as they squaked into a wrist comm. But Tareth knew that much like the soldiers themselves, the steaming weapons they carried may look archaic in fashion, but were terribly advanced and even more effective. He'd seen one of their snipers lob a poisonous gas grenade over 100 yards with frightening accuracy from a gun that measured his height in bore length. Their toys were feats of technology wrapped in cosmetic throwback packages. Working for an eccentric genuis must be both rewarding and humiliating at the same time.

Tareth's toys were still better. He clung to the walls of the underground base, where steel fixtures has been hastily bolted to walls that looked like they'd been blasted from the living rock. The sporadic lamps cast long shadows in this sort of space, perfect for sneaking. The party he stalked stood in a ten-foot opening of a passage drilled between caves and never even had a hint of his approach.

"No sir. The intruder hasn't come this way."

That's what they thought. Tareth didn't even bother shutting off the cloaking shield he wore before he leapt into the center of the four men and dropped into a whirling roundhouse, tripping three straight to the floor and sending the fourth stumbling. Though they bristled with weapons that could tear someone apart from hundreds of feet away, they were very ill-prepared for a hand-to-hand battle in close quarters. The narrow cavern walls echoed with dull thuds and wet slaps as he systematically beat down all four minions in turn.

For the hundredth time this week he quietly thanked the crafter of his gloves, which were padded across his knuckles but blunt steel to his foes. It saved him the trouble of tape and equalizers.

A clockwork clicking behind him was his only warning to leap out of the way before the spot he had just been standing on exploded. The small robot that had fired on him tracked his movement and prepared to fire again.

The thing was almost cute in a way. It was a roughly textured brass ball with four legs, a single 'eye' and a pipe sticking straight up from the rear that leaked steam. It split in half horizontally to reveal the short, flared stub of a barrel and clicked again.

Tareth jumped foward and to the right, indirectly toward the sentry before it fired at where he had been. He tucked himself into a ball, rolled over his shoulder, extended his leg and brought the heel of his boot smashing down on the thing with all the momentum and weight he'd gathered through the tumble.

It staggered, fell against the cave wall, then imploded. The noise was sufficient to raise a hue and cry in the cavern he'd just tracked through and he made himself scarce from the scene, crouching behind an aluminum staircase with only the light hum of his cloaking device to give him away. That should have been a good enough distraction technique.

[G]

A lone Subaltern was heading the opposite direction of the destruction. Obviously he had seen what happened and decided that it may be best to make himself scarce. He was turning a corner in the cavern and the moment he did, he came to an abrupt stop. He looked down only to see an intricate sword sticking through his chest.

"You missed one, Guy III." G said over his shoulder. He looked back into the eyes of the Nemesis and smirked, raising a brow. "You guys dress funny."

Tareth wasn't really able to be seen now, what with his cloaking shield and hiding skill. G just sighed and shook his head, then the body from his weapon. Sliding it back into its sheath, he managed a little chuckle. "'You wanna talk, you gotta work. I got a job to do first.' Yeah, work. These stains better come out."

G looked around again, still unable to see where he was. Not being much for subtlety because he liked the direct approach, he grinned and called out. "You go ahead down that way. I'll take this tunnel! We'll meet and talk then."

Talking to Tareth was the main reason he showed up in that city, but working this job has piqued his interest in some of the items that could become available. Starting with that cute little clockwork sentry. All good things, all good things. First, help Tareth with his job, then see what you can get out of it.

[Tareth Thorn]

The only thing better than distraction is confusion. The troops wheeled as they heard G'nort's voice, one of them shouting, "there's more than one!" That might have done some good if he had actually said it to his communicator, but as luck would have it he was too busy lowering his weapon and taking aim at the opening spewing voices.

Tareth caught him right where his head met his neck with a flying jumpkick. His cloaking device had kept him all but invisible until he came within close range, but by then it was too late. The second Colenel recovered from his shock in time to take a stab at Tareth with the bayonette at the end of his rifle. But Tareth bent around it, whirled and delivered a backhand across the man's helmet, which staggered him and jogged the helmet enough so that he couldn't see through the narrow eye slits.

Tareth took a moment to laugh at the absurd scenario, the Colenel staggering around trying to pry the helmet off. Tareth crouched, gathered all his focus, and delivered a mercy blow to turn the man's lights out for a while.

Once everyone had been cleared, he called out to G'nort. "You can come out now, all the bad men are sleeping."

He had left instructions with Caedia and G'nort as to where to find him if they needed him. The job here with Portal Corp wasn't too bad, apparently they'd been recruiting people from Rhydin for some time and his record in the duels had caught their attention. G'nort had come to 'visit' while Tareth was at lunch in between missions. Tareth wasn't about to let his timecard expire, so he insisted that if G wanted to talk, he'd have to come along. That, and he kinda wanted to see how G would do in this kind of capacity- he knew that G was somewhat good with a sword.

[G]

"Hmph. You say that as though I was hiding. I was merely seeking the opportune moment to make my presense known. It's completely strategic." He smirked, taking a cloth and wiping his blade down after coming from beside a column of rock.

"At least we don't have to split up." He sheathed his weapon again, then took to poking through some of the wreckage. He took a keen interest in the little Werfer Jaeger, particularly. "Interesting little contraption they have here. You should tell me about these dashing fellows."

He kicked the tin can and stepped towards Tareth. Shaking his head as he surveyed the cavern, he look to him. "I hate this room, Guy III. Why are we here? What's the point? Chuck's looking for you. Doesn't it hurt when you punch metal? Honestly."

Folding his arms across his chest, he raised a brow and waited for the response.

[Tareth Thorn]

He had been looking down one of the store corridors, deciding whether that was the one which held the objective or not while G talked. His concentrated scowl deepened to something more foul the more G'nort said.

"I'm here because these guys have a sonic device that I want. *You're* here because you said you had something interesting to tell me. The point is to get paid and hopefully get to smash something in the process. Chuck wasn't interested in coming with me in the first place, why should she be now? And I have padded metal gloves on." As he finished the block of answers he brandished said gloves, then put them to good use as another squad of patrolling Nemesis soldiers turned the corner and they were forced to defend their position.

Panting over the bodies and rubbish that was once four men and their pet robots, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve and gave G a pointed look.

"I really hope that's not all you came here for. You didn't tell her where I was, did you?"

[G]

"No, not the only reason, of course. And you know I'd never directly reveal your secret location to anyone, even under pain of torture. Other reasons include, but are not limited to, curiousity to this strange place you discovered, seeing if you might be interested in fighting for my IFL team this season because we could use reliable fighters. Also, now that I'm here, these.. whatever you call them.. oddly dressed opponents appear to have a few things of interest to me." He was back to tapping his chin, which meant, naturally, that he was plotting on the future. He looked back to Tareth casually, as if it were beneath him to skulk about cautiously like his companion.

"You know. You asked why Chuck'd be interested now. Who knows what goes on in the minds of women?" G shrugged, non-plussed. "All I know is she's not on friendly terms with me anymore and it has to do with not letting on where you're at, I mean, she called me 'old.' She really wants to know where you are. Think I could bring one of those Jaeger things back?"

G stepped over the remains of the battle and walked straight forward into the tunnel. "Honestly, you shouldn't take everything so seriously. You're downright somber."

He chuckled and began running his hand over the wall.

[Tareth Thorn]

"Better somber than dead." It was a natural reaction to get defensive, but he used the excuse of tunnel stalking to mask his reactions. He skulked in front of G, cautious but moving quickly nonetheless.

"And no, I won't join your IFL team. I'm already fighting for a job that pays me regularly and keeps my interest better. This whole superpowered foes thing keeps me on my toes, which is where I like to be."

He stopped at a junction box bolted into the raw blasted rock of the tunnel, pried it open with a small crowbar procured from his pocket, and tinkered around inside for a bit as he talked.

"I don't know what to say about Charlie. It's not like I don't like her or anything, but I do know that I'm not ready to get back into that. I'm still a little... I dunno... hurt. I am who I am, and she needs to love me for that or forget it." His tongue stuck out as he twisted some of the wires together.

"Maybe she has finally realized that, maybe not. Maybe she's just missing me and still wants me to change or something for her. She's way too attached to her new life. Not that I want her dead again or anythnig... blast it... " he jammed the bar into the box and gave it a quick yank. Something cracked, Tareth stuck the crowbar under his arm and continued to fiddle and yammer. "But what good's a life if you're not, yanno, living?"

Finished in the security panel, he pocketed the bar and reared back, then put his fist squarely into the mess of wires. The box hissed and spat sparks before Tareth quickly closed it again.

"By the way, did you ever pay me for that TDL season I fought for you?"

[G]

"Who we talking about?" G stared at him somewhat blankly. In the topic of financial issues which do not favor him we will find many attempts at aversion. Naturally this is no exception.

"Slow down a moment, my slippery friend. Let's address important topics first." He chuckled, holding out his hands. "Okay, so I didn't really expect you to fight for me this season, that's fine. But 'SuperPowered foes,' you say? Surely you don't mean these gaudily uniformed and poorly planned individuals you so easily dispatched." he chuckled.

"I really think this is beneath you." he smiled, waving a hand dismissively, then stopping and raising a brow as a thought suddenly appears. "Wait. You want her to love you and you're hurt by her? Goodness, Guy III, you *do* have feelings. I never would have guessed."

Then he grinned. "What if she does love you?"

His eye catching an item hanging off one of the bodies of the gentlement recently dispatched by the pair of them.