The Spiraling of Metalborn

Part 1: The Call for Revenge!

Waxillium Ladrian, contrary to what most people believed, was not a happy person. The second son of an important nobleman in Luthadel, he was not set to inherit. This is where it happened.

A couple of years ago, he'd begun inquiring about Skaa and soon discovered that they had Allomancers and Feruchemists. Who'd have thunk it? Apparently, it wasn't common knowledge, but still. Who'd have thought?

These events led to him beginning to harbor bad thoughts again God. Sorry, the Lord Ruler. And that had led to him making the best friends he'd ever gotten. And that had led to now, where Wax dropped a coin and Pushed.

He soared into the night sky, flying through the mists. This was beautiful. The mists, in the air, was where he belonged. His mistcoat, a duster cut into tassels just below the waist, flared around him. 

This was where he belonged. The mists. The air. Just him and the sky. 

That was, until he reached the top of the Luthadel Wall. He dropped, landing successfully on the wall. 

"Hmm," said Dockson, tucking his pocket watch into his nobleman's vest. "Right on time."

"I see you're still sporting those noblemen clothes with style," he replied. 

"Right you are," said Dockson. 

"You have your metals ready, just in case, right?" Wax asked.

"Most certainly, Wax," Dockson replied. 

I decked him. At least, I would have, but he dodged a split second before. 

"Excellent," Wax said. "Now, to business. You requested this?" I held up a metal bracer.

"Yes." Dockson grabbed the metalmind, pulled up his sleeve, and put it on his arm. "Now I have two. Thank you, Wax."

"One last thing, Dox."

"Yes?"

"Call a meeting. I'm thinking Camon's place. What say you?" 

"We probably won't be caught... I'll put it together." 

"Make sure everyone's there. Everyone." 

"Will do. Speaking of which, we need a Pulser if we want to get anywhere."

"We'll find one. For now, just call the meeting."

"Also, I don't know where to find Wayne."

"I'll get him."

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Marasi Colms cried out as Camon backhanded her into a wall. 

It's just pain, she thought. I can deal with pain. 

He punched her and threw her into the air. Ribs cracked. She grunted. 

I will not scream. I will not let him win. I will not scream. I will not let him win, she thought. She continued to repeat this in her head, over and over and over again. 

Camon continued to beat her, showing an impressive amount of stamina for one so fat. 

The door flew open, and four men walked in. One wore a mistcoat with a suit shirt and pants, along with suspenders. He carried two pistols in his hands. He also wore stubble on his face, though it was styled in a way to make it look good. Finally, his hair was unkept and wild, but in a stylish way. This man was clearly in charge.

The second man wore a fancy nobleman suit, the golden chain of a pocket watch hanging out of his vest pocket. He was clean-shaven and pristine looking. He had no obvious weapons.