Assassin Crow Evolution

Jimmy looked at Zoey and Vorin as if they had an answer to his absurdly difficult question.

They looked back at him, clueless, expecting an answer out of him.

It was a stand-off of ignorance.

Neither one of them wanted to run the slightest risk of giving a bad idea, because as the situation had it, bad ideas were very possible, and the consequences could be so unpredictably severe that no one wanted it on their conscience.

Even Jimmy realized how stupid it was of him to suggest that there were no bad ideas.

At last, he broke the silence, and said, "So neither of us want to risk it? Okay. What if we find someone to try the cores for us?"

"But you told us that we aren’t supposed to tell anybody about the cores," Zoey added.

"They don’t have to know that we have forty cores," He said, "We’ll take a blue, red and black core with us, and maybe give them to some crows?"

"But, this can kill them." Vorin pointed out.

"It can, or it can give them a new skill that they couldn’t have ever gotten themselves." He said, "We’ll obviously tell them about the risks. I’m sure we can find a couple of power-hungry crows who’d want to take the risk."

...

Coming to the decision to find test subjects was a heavy one, but it was relatively easy to agree on, because when it came down to it, everything boiled down to one’s selfish need of personal gain, or progress.

The selfishness was subtle, but it was there.

With three cores wrapped into an old, dry cloth they found in the bushes, the murder of three strode the meadows, looking for eager takers.

To protect the rest of the thirty-seven cores, they left Virena behind, sitting on top of the closed chest. She didn’t care much about Beast Cores, and preferred Mana Cores, otherwise known as Flesh Cores, which perfectly mended with her mastery of the sickle.

Beast Cores were too unpredictable for her taste. She did like the idea of becoming a bigger mantis before, but that preference slipped away from her grasp, and now, she’d rather keep her flawless skill-set. She was the perfect, most trustable candidate to guard the cores, and she was quite capable for the job too.

Anyway, it didn’t take long for White Blade, the most reputable crow in the community, to hear about the cores that Jimmy was giving away.

Unsurprisingly, he found the team, and approached them.

"Are you messing with cores again, Jimmy?" White Blade asked, "Where do you get the nerve? I’m still in mourning."

"That’s hardly my fault now, is it?" He countered, "I’m sorry your wife died, but I practically begged you to give my cores back. It’s not my fault that old moron stole the cores from me."

White Made was struck silent. As of recently, he felt himself spiraling down towards depression faster than he could handle it.

Time didn’t always heal deep wounds. He got worse by the passing day.

At that moment of silence, Jimmy’s words wounded him so deeply, that adrenaline began to course through his veins, pushing him to a state of fight-or-flight.

He wanted to fight, but as adrenaline carried the great fog of depression out of his brain, pushing it aside like a great, powerful storm, White Blade attained a level of clarity that he hasn’t felt for weeks.

At last, he was able to self reflect.

"Perhaps distractions were good for me?" White Blade finally spoke, letting out a deep sigh, and yet incapable to muster a tear, "When we were at war, I didn’t have much time for feelings. We barely mourned the fine men and women we lost."

"Peace is as much of a burden than war is," Jimmy added, though, he didn’t really care, "Happiness is much more optional than you think. You don’t have to experience it, but you’ll live longer if you do."

The murder of crows, including ten of White Blade’s underlings that always followed him along, were dumb-founded by his words of wisdom. They couldn’t even process it.

Wisdom was not usually expected from someone they considered to be completely reckless and aloof.

White Blade couldn’t help but recall the hammer stash within the city, that Jimmy still hadn’t cleaned up after. Weeks had passed since he littered the enemy’s weapons across a random alleyway.

Vorin looked at his brother, confused, but then he noticed a nearly non-existent twinkle in his brother’s eyes, one that broke the facade.

’This jackass is only thinking about the cores, isn’t he?’ Vorin thought.

White Blade could not pick up on Jimmy’s motives. His anger devolved into confusion, a trait which often came with self-reflection.

At last, he backed away, and said, "Do as you wish, but try not to get anyone killed."

Right after, he took off.

This time, there was one main distinction within the prolific White Blade leaving the scene. His posse of ten underlings didn’t follow him.

One would think that they lost the respect they nurtured towards him, and although it may appear that way, it was not the case.

Greed came in all forms, and the murder of ten crows eyed the old dirty rag that Jimmy had beneath his claw. They intentionally ignored the risks involved with absorbing Beast Cores, risks that most of them had witnessed with their very eyes.

"I can take one of the cores, if you’re still giving them away." One of the crows said.

A foreigner, who had recently joined the community, shared a similar intent, "I never touched a Beast Core before. May I have one, please?"

Jimmy noticed that all ten of the crows were interested, and this was a problem, because he only had three cores with him.

For that matter, he intended to actually reduce the number of volunteers.

He explained, "I wouldn’t mind giving you the cores, but be warned, I don’t know what beasts they belonged to. They’re unpredictable, untested, and they might just kill you."

Afterwards, he asked, "So, how many of you are still willing to absorb the cores? I only have three of them, so you have to choose amongst yourselves."

To his surprise, all ten of the crows were still willing to take the risk.

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