Siracusa: Campobasse

A quarter of a mile away from one of the Fang Family's warehouse depots, a lone black car lazily made its way down the road. If non-native Siracusian's were to spare a glance toward the car, they wouldn't find anything notable and continue along with their troublesome lives. However, natives of the city would take one glance at the car and casually keep it within the peripherals of their vision. If it was a lone car people would silently pay attention, but if there were a group of these seemingly regular black cars, people would scramble away from the area with a fire under their feet. These actions from the natives were a result of well-oiled survival instincts, as they were well aware of the Mafioso owners behind these car models.

Currently, the residential area the car was coasting through was devoid of people as only the main commerce sections of the city still held bustling people at 2 am. Even the hardest working natives were sleeping in their tile-roofed, brick stone abodes. No one was available to question the actions of the lone vehicle as it slowed along the road, and slipped into a nearby alley. Even the few windows in the alley were purposely blocked with wooden planks by the residents, thus making sure they wouldn't "accidentally" see something they shouldn't. Truly, the alley was the perfect spot for...arrangements to happen.

As the car stopped within the wide alley, headlights were turned off, and two men exited the vehicle. Both men were native Lupo males dressed in the standard black tuxedos, and modified fedoras, typical Siracusian grunts would wear. Their faces seemed carved from granite as they went toward the back of the vehicle and popped open the trunk to reveal their tied-up captive. A brief glimpse and one would understand the restrained man had seen better days. The man's face was swollen from fist blows, with even his right eye forcefully closed from the swelling. Grey tape was wrapped around his mouth, forcefully silencing him, whilst thick pieces of black rope were wrapped around his extremities and torso.

The tuxedo-clad men grunted with effort as they hoisted the injured man from the confines of the moldy trunk...only to then viciously throw the man onto the alley floor like a sack of rotten potatoes. As the man groaned from his jostled injuries on the cold floor, one of the tuxedo-clad men opened the back passenger door of the car. Slowly, with visible effort, an old man shuffled his way out of the car.

The man was dressed in a pin-stripe dark blue tuxedo, modified feather-clad fedora on his head, with an ivory undershirt and red bowtie gracing his neck. The man's face was withered with age, eyes appearing in a permanent squint with the color of his pupils being impossible to discern, with his only true notable feature being two large grey eyebrows cascading along his temples. From the first step, it was obvious the man needed aid in walking. Even with the decorative cane, he leaned his weight onto, legs visibly buckled and shuddered with each step the man took. Despite the relatively flat surface of the alley, the two grunts hovered protectively around the old man in case a stray pebble should cause the man to fall.
Once they neared the injured man on the floor the old man nodded his head toward one of the goons, who then went toward the restrained man and ripped off the tape covering the man's mouth. As the tape came loose curses flew toward the old man.

"DAMN YOU. Damn you, rotten old man. WHY!? Why did you do it!."

The old man only sighed as the curses flung his way from the injured man whose vigor contrasted with their current injuries. With another nod, a goon stepped up and kicked the injured man's head roughly, as if it were a soccer ball. Yet, despite the vicious blow, it was shrugged off as the man continued throwing profanities at his captors. Seeing this the old man harrumphed and decided to address his wayward son.

" Son, I see you're still using that perverse Art of yours. That was the only thing you had talent in, but you squandered it, and for what? To run away from our homeland and marry some dime-store whore."

The injured man glared balefully at his "father" with his lone good eye, anger mounting at the older man's derisive tone and the contents spewing from the man's mouth.

"Don't you dare call her a whore!" The injured man sent a glob of spit toward the elder, but the lack of strength caused it to fall far from its intended target. Still, the injured man carried on.

"And your no father of mine! A real father wouldn't steal their son's daughter from their arms, then break their legs so they couldn't chase after them !"

Yes, this was the crux of the issue for the injured man Antonio Texas, one of the last living remnants of the once-great Siracusa Texas Mafia family. Once upon a time, they were infamous for dishing out the best fighters Siracusa had ever seen and for ruling the capital with an iron first for over two centuries. There were once exaggerated epics dedicated to lauding the strength of the family, with the most fictitious reasoning the first family head was a demi-god of war wearing a Lupo's skin, capable of taking on meanest sea monsters with only his bare fists.

These tall tales even included any offspring of the family, with people swearing purebred babies exited their mothers with fully developed muscles, looking like miniature bodybuilders who could choke grown men to death with their hands alone. Then a day after their birth the babies would be thrown into the woods to hunt their own food, and only the ones who could kill full-grown wolves could be accepted into the family.

Tall tales or not, the family truly created some of the best hunters Siracusa ever possessed. Whether by secret training method, or innate blood-line all mainline family members showed prodigy level control of their Arts, and tremendous amounts of talent in swordplay. It wasn't an exaggeration to say one had a better chance of living from being hunted down by a whole squad of Sarkaz mercenaries, than fighting a Texas Mafioso in a sword fight.
Although, the once great, time had ruined the family. Within the span of a hundred years, the family dwindled from assassinations, rampant spread of Oripathy amongst the upper echelon, and general continuous bouts of misfortune. As the family line dwindled, their hold on Siracusa's capital slackened until they were usurped by other competitors, who committed a blitzkrieg massacre against the Texan remnants. In a last-ditch attempt at survival, the Texas clan dissolved and fled out of the country with their tails between their legs, the once-notorious clan having been brought to heel.

Over the years the remaining family line dissolved into the wind until only three family members were left; Antonio Texas, Pirtanaci Texas, and Natasha Texas. Despite, only having three members left of the clan a schism had formed between Pirtanaci and Antonio with the youngest member bearing the cost.

Slowly, Pirtanaci hobbled closer to the struggling man on the floor, right eye-opening to return the younger man's glare.

"You truly are a disgrace if you don't even understand the reason behind my actions, Antonio. Don't act as if I am the reason behind your current situation..No, this was brought about by your own hand the moment you forsook my teachings and wanted to wash the blood from your hands, at the cost of damning our family's birth given right."

Antonio stopped squirming against his restrainings, tilting his head to meet the older man's glare with pure defiance running through his veins. He spat out his next words with such vile vitriol, it was surprising Pirtanaci didn't melt away from the acidic words.

"Accidenti a te, Pirtanaci non sei altro che il culo malato di un asino. Your mind is as sick as your body, why do you continue to delude yourself into thinking you can cause the revival of the clan. Get it through your head old man, THE TEXAS MAFIA DIED OUT SEVENTY YEARS AGO!"

Finally, enraged at his son's words Pirtanaci returned the venomous statement with his own bellow.

" SILENCE! The family's not dead, NOT YET!! Antonio you had one job, be a fidel son and take up the mantle of restoring the clan's honor. Yet instead of using my teachings, you squandered them and fled the country, leaving like a rat in the night as you drugged me into unconsciousness.

You forsook me, so I did the only thing I could do. Did you think I wouldn't be able to track you down in Columbia? ME?!?! The one who taught you everything you know? I was merely returning the favor that night fifteen years ago, as I broke your legs. Your child was merely collateral to pay for the debt you left behind. Now she will take up the mantle you failed to even try with."

The mere mention of his daughter seemed to fuel Antonio with newfound strength as he struggled like a mad bull on the ground, mouth beginning to froth from the sheer anger of hearing his shameless father speak. Despite his battered body muscles swelled with the augmentation provided by Art's and adrenaline coursed through Antonio's veins, as he struggled like a man possessed against his restraints. Everyone in the alley could hear the sounds of the heavy ropes straining, as they attempted to keep the mad man contained.

The moment he heard the ropes straining, Pirtanaci hobbled backward out of his son's range of motion and called for his guards.
"Pedro, Luigi beat the fight out of him before the ropes break!"

Listening to their boss's command, the Lupo males went toward the raging man and began laying down leg blows upon him. One would use his heeled boots to stomp onto the man's face, whilst the other would wind up large swings before impacting the man's gut. Yet, despite the beating, the sounds of straining rope became more profound, as Antonio barely seemed to register the rain of blows he was being dealt. Anger had clouded his senses as he yelled out toward Pirtanaci.

"YOU BASTARD! Tell me where Natasha is you son of a bitch!"

*Snap*

Sounds of snapping twine began to echo from Antonio but the ropes were still holding for the moment.

Piratanaci could only look upon Antonio with both disgust and a small amount of hidden fear. The old man wasn't lying about his opinion of his "disgraceful" son, as no matter what Pirtanaci taught him, Antonio was mediocre at being a fighter. No, it was more appropriate to say Pirtanaci's son had one talent that stifled the rest of his good points. Antonio's Unique Art mastery, allowed the man to have perverse and unyielding tenacity in battle.

Before their current venue, Antonio had stormed Pirtanaci's home base by himself. A normal suicidal charge which should have ended in the man's death resulted in Piratanci's manor being half destroyed. It took the combined efforts of over twenty men to hold Antonion down, something only possible by his son's pacifistic reluctance to spill blood and through the ample use of shock rods.

Pirtanaci was too old to fight Antino in a straight-up brawl and seeing the normally docile man become lost in rage slightly frightened the old mobster. Antonio normally wouldn't stoop to killing unless it was entirely necessary...but he wasn't in the proper form of mind at the moment. With a sharp command, Pirtanaci ordered his men to utilize their modified shock rods.

These rods were a recent purchase by the old mob boss, intended to give him a step up in competing against the other Mafia families in town. Each rod was modified from a standard cattle prod, capable of sending quadruple the normal amount of volts into its target if needed. Frankly, for anyone not utilizing Art's based augmentation the rods were overkill with their output capable of reaching 250,000 Volts. Yet, these rods weren't without their faults as they filtered through their Originium power supply like a dehydrated man drinking water, and could overheat with extended use. The original seller had warned Pirtanaci, that should the rods overheat beyond capacity they were liable to blow up like miniature electric hand grenades. Despite the conditions, the old man had purchased a few.

Pedro, and Luigi paused their reckless beating of Antonion as they reached into their inner pockets, whipping out their collapsible rods. With a quick button press, the rods extended and electricity began to crackle along the tip. Then without fanfare, both goons struck the rods into Antionio's body eliciting an angry yell of pain from the man as thousands of volts entered his system. The man still struggled through the river of electrical currents, but eventually, the abuse caused his struggles to die down.

Pirtanaci sneered at his son, " You could have been great Antonio, but you wasted your potential with your idiotic ideology of passivism. Get it through your thick skull you buffoon, we live in a world where the strong eat the weak.

For not understanding this you lost out on the chance of raising your child. Besides what kind of flowery name is "Natasha"? No, Texan-born child will have such a disgraceful name under my watch. For the last fifteen years, the girl has been solely called by the family's name, a name deserving of strength and a reminder that the only reason for her existence is to bring back the family's glory."

Hobbling over to the rear doors of the vehicle, Piratanci glanced over his shoulder and addressed his son one more time.

"I only left you alive for two reasons. One no matter how much of a disgrace you are, you're still my son. And two, this time Texas wasn't at the base due to a mission so she wasn't available for you to taint her mind with your weak philosophy.

However know this Antonio, do not spit upon my mercy and try my patience. Don't bother returning to my home base ever again, or I will send your own daughter out to kill you. Do you think she wouldn't listen? Well, think again. As far as she is concerned her "Father" was a drug-addled addict who sold her as a baby to slavers for a quick fix. All that she knows is that kind, good ol grandaddy saved her, gave her a roof over her head, hot meals, and taught her how to defend herself.

Face it, Antonio, in a contest of affection I win. Besides look at yourself, from her perspective, a bloody vagrant would be coming to her doorstep telling her he was her long-lost father. I wouldn't surprised if she felt so offended she lobbed off your head immediately.

Goodbye Antonio."

Slowly the goons stopped shocking Antonio, minimized their rods, and walked away from the convulsing man. Throughout the shocking session, Antonio had kept his mouth shut, unwilling to give his attackers the joy of listening to his pain and in an attempt not to bite his own tongue off. Even as his muscles twitched involuntarily from the leftover electrical currents coursing through his body, Antonio glared balefully toward his "father".
One by one, his father and his father's hired men entered the car and drove away. Antonio could only glare at the departing vehicle as anger once again coursed through his chest, causing him to let out one last bellow at the departing vehicle. The singular word he yelled out contained every negative feeling he held; resentment towards his father, rage toward the injustice, pain from his beating, and sadness at having not been able to get his daughter back or even see a glimpse of her.

"P I R T A N A C I !!!!!!!"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

2 hours later

Antonio was bloodied, battered, and slightly roasted from the constant volts that coursed through his body. It had taken him two hours ever since his wretched father's departure, but he was finally able to break apart his bindings. It seemed everything the old man said towards the end was true considering Antonio was still alive. Pirtanaci had ample opportunities to finally kill him, or leave him for dead but the old man didn't. Even the seemingly cruel action of leaving him injured in a Siracusian Alley was a small mercy given the location.

Currently, he was located within the main capital of Siracusa: Campobasse a once-great fortress city. For centuries it had been writhe with mafia families and the current times was little different. Before he was stowed away in the trunk, Antonio was capable of hearing Pirtanaci's command to drive into the Fang Family's territory. Among all the other blood-thirsty family's vying for control in Campobasse, the Fang's were the most lenient when it concerned others traveling through their territory. Why wouldn't they be? The Fang family grew to its current prosper by being the go-to business for smuggling. What good exchange business would prosper if they held iron control on their borders?

The Fang family allowed other families to cross into their territory neutrally as it allowed for better business. In the event of an altercation, the Fang family would utilize their own private forces and instill an embargo on any family causing a ruckus in their territory. What made matters worse for upstarts, were other Mafia families who would come to the Fang's aid in an effort to garner some "goodwill". Who didn't want a decent discount on their next shipment of weapons?

Overall, the gist of the situation in Campobasse was that as long as you didn't start anything in Fang territory you were free to come and go, a neutral ground built upon greed. This was the area Antiono was in, and probably the only place in Campobasse that wouldn't kill him outright.
Still, it worried Antiono that his "Father" was telling the truth about still thinking he was his son. This meant the rest of Pirtanaci's rant held credence, Apparently the demented old man had fed lies to his daughter and forced her to take his place as the family's main enforcer, all in some deluded attempt to bring the Texas name back to fame.

Antonio slammed his fist against the brick wall near him, feelings of helplessness and anger rolling throughout his chest. It had taken him fifteen years to track down Pirtanaci across the world, ever since his father shattered his Tibias and stole Natashas from her crib....No, Antonio's heart felt heavy at the likely notion that there was no longer any "Natasha daughter of Antonio Texas" and only "Texas the enforcer". It pained his heart knowing his daughter was brainwashed by his bat-shit crazy father into following the crazy man's plan. Couldn't his father understand the family was done for? Besides how could a decrepit old man, a handful of dollar store goods, and his teenage daughter fight against the monster's other Mafia families held in Campobasse?

Pirtanaci was going to get himself killed and more importantly was going to have his daughter killed in a stupid power struggle. Despite his best efforts, Antonio could do nothing to stop the oncoming slaughter.

Under normal circumstances, he would have attempted to contact his daughter discreetly, but the foggy old man wasn't stupid. "Texas" only was sent out on missions and rarely left the Pirtanaci's base, with any contact being bodied by goons. Frankly, the proper decision would just be to wait for his father to slip up and contact Texas through that gap. The unfortunate issue was that Antiono simply didn't have time.

Eight years ago during his time of tracking down his daughter, Antonio had contracted Oripathy by being too near a Cataosphe. It was only through his Lupo heritage and Texan bloodline, that allowed him to stave off the effects of rampant infection. But, it was already too late for him, as constant use of his Art's and traveling through the land without rest, had caused his Oripathy to grow unchecked. Crystals now dotted the entirety of his right torso, from his waist to his chest, and Antonio didn't need a doctor's analysis to know he had reached the late stage of Oriptahy.

He figured he had only a few months left before all his internal organs crystallized and killed him. It took him fifteen years to find her, how many years more would it take to contact her under Pirtanac's hawk-like gaze? A month? Five Months? A year? Two Years? He would be dead by the end of March if he was lucky....

This was the reason why he forwent any subtle approaches in contacting his daughter and went guns blazing in Pirtanaci's home compound.....an admittedly foolish decision in hindsight but at the time it seemed to be the best idea. A portion of Antonio's mind intoned that he almost was able to beat down the entirety of Pirtanaci's makeshift gang but the modified cattle rods were his downfall. Now, his father would increase his defenses and Antonio wouldn't be even able to near the place.........let alone to fight his own daughter.

Tears sprang from Antonio's swollen eyes as he desperately wished to see his daughter once again, the last time he had even held her was when she was a month old in her baby room. A portion of his mind wracked in grief didn't even mind dying by his daughter's hands if it meant he could talk to her face to face on last time.....but no Antonio wouldn't let his daughter unwitting commit patricide.

Gathering himself up from his depressive mood, Antonio figured there was still some time left, he still had enough vigor to last a few months and in that time maybe he will get his chance to see his daughter. With steps that further doted his injured body, Antonio exited the alley and started walking down the sidewalk, intent on reaching his hideout located a quarter of the city away.

O0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0oO

Siracusa: Campobasse; Pirtanaci's main base

His body felt dangerously devoid of strength, the night having had taken its toll on him. But, how could have Pirtanaci known his idiotic son would still be gunning for his head, all in some fairy tale pursuit to "save" his daughter. The only positive point concerning his stupid son was the man's tenacity.
For fourteen years Pirtanaci's had kept his head down, and stewed in anger as he watched other Mafia families run around what used to be HIS family's playground...Of course, even given his admittedly advanced age Pirtananci couldn't say he was alive during the golden ages of his family. But his father and his father's father had instilled his mind with stories of grandeur, stories of heroics his family was once known for. His family may have always been on the run from pursuers but he was taught what it meant to be a pureblood Texan. It was up to him to revitalize the flame that was the family's heart, to make it great again, and crush all those who stole from his family.

Pirtanaci had hoped he could instill the same grand belief into his son, but he had failed and the bastard had to bite the hand that fed him. His stupid son was a bloody pacifist who always wanted some reason before harming another. For Terra sake, they were a mafia family, and one shouldn't be bothered about killing.

Still, the good for nothing had fled and forced Pirtanaci's hand. Fifteen years ago, he had traveled to a small cottage in the mountains of Columbia and slunk into his son's home. His Unique Arts weren't anything special, only allowing him to mask his "perception". Once activated eyes would slide off his body as his scent was masked, footsteps dampened, and general presence became "normal" for his surroundings. It didn't matter if he was in a large crowd or in a singular room, his power made him "belong" there subconsciously and he would be ignored.

Of course, it was sub-optimal for anything beyond information gathering as he was still "physically there", meaning his "perception" power would fizzle out if anything physical accidentally bumped into him. Even when he physically interacted with objects, the shroud would fade in power and only allow him to dampen the noise he made. It was shameful power for cowards, but it had kept him alive the day assassins had come to finish off his family.
Pirtanaci could still vividly hear the screams of his family being slaughtered as he hid in his bedroom, powerfully active. He still remembered the assassin as they opened his bedroom door, slinking inside to kill him but only "seeing" an empty room.

This was another reason he hated his son, the man had an acutely Unique Art that was useful for battle. His son probably thought he was using a generalized art taken to extremes, but Pirtanaci knew better. The fool had a special art that passively increased the man's vitality, and once active made the man into a momentary juggernaut that could tank Art-infused blows without batting an eye.

Did the idiot not realize how special it was to have an Art indirectly affect one's body without the use of a catalyst?
How else could his son have fought back all those years ago in Columbia?

After Pirtanaci had slunk into the cottage he had come across his son's sleeping form on the living room couch. The mere vistage of his peaceful son had filled him with rage at the sheer audacity the man had. His son had left everything behind and was happy about it, blissfully ignorant to the shame he brought Pirtanaci.

He could not stay his hand after seeing such a scene. His power essentially guaranteed the first strike so with a burning rage Pirtanaci had decided to strike a debilitating blow against his son. Still, it was true he still loved his son, thus he used the blunt portion of his sword to land the blow. Breaking both his son's kneecaps in one fell swoop.

The result?

His son had reacted by kicking him with the strength of a raging bull, sending him through the cottage door and into the cold Columbian rain. The brute had somehow managed to stand on two broken knee caps and chase after him into the rain, where a bloody battle took place. It took every skill he had to beat down his bullhead son that night, the buffoon only stopping after his legs were essentially broken into a million pieces. That night he had taken "Texas" from her crib and ran off into the night as his son attempted to drag himself after them, howling like a devil looking for blood.

Now, somehow the idiot was charging into his base fifteen years later, with that same power to destroy half his base. Pirtanaci was well aware the man had likely heard rumors of a new young enforcer making headway in the Mafioso scene, but it had only been a year since his granddaughter's debut and the man was already knocking down his front door.

As the car neared his manor, Pirtanaci's looked at the damage the old mansion had absorbed. There was a gaping hole in the iron gate like someone had flexed the metal pieces apart, the front door was smashed open and one could see the entire lobby of the mansion in pieces. That was just from a glance, but he knew the damage extended further inside to the point of weakening the structure's foundation. It would take a large amount of money to reinforce the building again but Pirtanaci wasn't going to let this mansion be abandoned.

No, it was one of the last pieces of his family's legacy in Campobasse. Originally it was designed to be a small guest manor, but once the family had fled the city it came under new management. Through a bout of fortune, for him at least, the manor had fallen under disrepair over the years and was being sold for a reduced price. Pirtanaci had bought the home in a heartbeat two years ago, fixed it up, and turned it into the main hub for his aspiring gang.

Now?

Well, now multiple grunts were moving the debris from the front lawn, and he was stuck dishing out even more money to fix the place...Pirtanaci really hated his son at the moment.

As the car stopped at the entrance of the manor, Pirtanaci was finally close enough to notice the silhouette of a specific person. Amongst the moving body of workers, they were the lone stationary one, staring at the large gaping hole that once was the manor's front door. She was short compared to the lumbering tall men working around her, barely reaching 5 feet even if one took into account her dark-furred ears. Dressed in the similar tuxedos seen all over Campobasse, one wouldn't realize the true danger lurking beneath the surface.

Smiling, Pirtanaci ordered his driver to stop by the girl and prepared to disembark. With well-placed steps, he exited the vehicle and hobbled his way toward his granddaughter, heart soothing from the mere sight of his prized family member. With a voice that reflected his love for her, he spoke out to grab her attention.

"Texas, sweetheart, what are you doing standing outside in the brisk weather. Did you just get back from that mission you were on?"
Pirtanci was well aware of the awkward glances Pedro and Luigi gave each other behind his back, whenever he spoke to his granddaughter. It was a severe contrast from the typical tough and cutthroat attitude he showed with his employees. Hell, even when Antonio was a child Pirtanaci never bothered coddling the boy with sweet words. But, then look that got him; a good for nothing man who abandoned the family.

No, he wasn't going to deal with another "Antonio" so he made sure his beloved granddaughter would love him with all her heart, to make it so she would never betray him like her bastard of a father. If it meant he had to momentarily degrade himself in front of his subordinates, so be it. It wasn't like they didn't know they were disposable anyway.

Texas turned towards him, face set in a stoic mask, with eyes at first glance seemingly despondent. Yet, he could tell what laid behind the surface of those uncaring eyes, a glint of burning anger that promised raging retribution. Pirtanaci smothered the laugh that threatened to worm its way out of his gut. For all, Antonio wanted to "save" his daughter it seemed the man only accomplished angering her.

"Are you well?"

More of his years may have been wasted training the girl but it was well worth it, especially considering the love she felt towards him, "The only real living family member she had left". Seeing her unique brand of worry over his wellbeing soothed his aged heart. Still, he needed to continue with his role. Leaning heavily against his burdened cane, he forced a cough to pass through his lips as he answered her question.

"*Cough* I'm fine Texas. It was just a random upstart who wanted to take out some competition before starting their own gang. The only notable thing about him was the use of explosives, but don't worry he was taken care of."

Pirtanaci wouldn't bother mentioning the true reason behind the manor's current damage, lest he involuntarily cause years of hard work to become undone. He gave his son one last chance, but next time he truly would end the buffoon if he attempted to spoil his dream.

"I see"

He was only graced with a two-word reply, watching as the girl merely turned her head back and disregarded him.....Pirtanaci suppressed the twitch that threatened to escape his face, knowing that the girl wasn't disregarding him in a show of disrespect but merely it was how she was person-wise........Honestly, he truly questioned his child-rearing skills sometimes. It was true he could train them to fight but the resulting personalty?
Well one was a pacifistic buffoon, and the other was an aloof child soldier.......he needed a drink, and it didn't matter if it hurt his aged liver, he still needed it.

"Let's head inside and grab a meal shall we?"

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Authors Note: Hmm honestly I wasn't expecting the back story to be a whole chapter, but I guess it was sorta needed. I had to make a plausible backstory for Texas that incorporated what few lines she hints at in her bio. Also, it is true she was born in Columbia, that's canon.

If anyone is wondering about the suspension of disbelieving concerning that mention about passive Art's usage, I'm trying to incorporate in-game skills into the story. The one you just read is Passive Dp Texas gains on a secondary skill. I needed to find some way to incorporate that, so we get this weird thought baby.

One can argue the passive is sustained extremely lightly with the originium-blood density all native Terraians have for just being born in TErra or one can argue that first Art's activation actively changes their body composition. Feel free to argue this point since its still debatable.

But thanks for reading and next time on The Faded Family

"Here, enjoy the meal it's one of my specialties. I call it the fornicating chicken dish."

She just stared at him.

He stared back.

Neither broke eye contact.