Something very strange is happening. Ever since you stole that dusty tome, members of your party have met a mysterious end, one after the other. You are the last left, holed up in an anonymous inn off the beaten trail. You pace the room, clutching the book that’s caused all this trouble. You stare aghast as the grimoire levitates from your grasp. You’re so surprised, you almost miss the shine on the dagger blade that floats inches away.
Chapter Four: I Actually Did Just Want To Help But I Have A Reputation To Maintain
Daddy took us to the wishing tree.
The ground rumbled. Yang sat behind him on the bike, clinging to his back, and I rode in the sidecar because I was smaller.
Patch was a small island full of mountain roads, twisting and turning around nameless streets and neighborhoods without numbers or walls. We turned and turned, my jacket’s collar flapping in the winds.
When we’d reached the park, Daddy parked the bike and lifted me out of the sidecar. The rest of the trip was a long trek through the woods, off the beaten trails. Grimm territory, Daddy said, but that meant nothing to me. There hadn’t been a Grimm on Patch Island in at least thirty years.
Wouldn’t it be nice to go behind-the-scenes and away from the crowds to access remote hiking trails, hidden waterfalls, and off-the-beaten-path historic sites? A river trip is one of the best ways to really experience the wonder of our national parks.
Since the recall of Overwatch agents, Genji had been suffering from a bit of a dilemma. During the first iteration of Overwatch, before it had been disbanded, he had a very intense mission to head up. He was almost constantly in Japan and only returned for briefing and debriefing. It had kept him occupied, allowing him to turn his focus away from his internal struggles.
While he had found his peace through Zenyatta’s teachings, he still suffered in the wake of a completed mission. Having no assignments meant he was left on call at the Watchpoint without anything to occupy himself.
He hated this sort of downtime.
It was during such a moment that he discovered a small alcove outside the base. It was essentially a rock that overlooked the water, tucked just off the beaten trail. It offered him privacy and the sound of the crashing waves provided tranquility.
It was a nice escape, and where he found himself most of the time while he was back at base, away from his mission. Like now, for example, as he sat with crossed legs, visor off and laid to the side. The gentle sea breeze was refreshing against what scarred flesh there was to his face, normally locked away beneath the visor. He sat quietly in meditation, allowing the time to tick by.
“Imagine my surprise when I learned that we have our own run away bride on this fine ship. And imagine my further surprise when there was set of applications to see you, our best weapons specialist to be whisked from this dirty underbelly and into the arms of a prince in a far way land . Tis a shame that they have the wrong ship ID that’s quiet a ways off the beaten trail that also has some other girl that looks rather like you. Only prettier.”