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Acel could read that Angelus was not afraid of the situation she was in. Well then she was a fool, he surmised. For however confident she believed she was, Acel knew that he could not be killed no matter what the circumstances were. In which case, Angelus did not know his true strength and should not be so confident in her own.
He watched, with glee, as an arrow sliced into Hayder’s chest and set off an explosion of slick blood. He collapsed onto the ground groaning in agony as the plasma cut through his veins, muscle, and skin, crackling and burning his clothes to rags. It felt like a million insect’s stings and nails were being driven through his body, then a coldness set in letting him know he would never be able to feel the response of those nerves again. His lifeblood was ebbing out of him eagerly and the ground drank it greedily. Acel clasped his hands together like a man watching the horse he bet on charge through the tape. The second Hayder was shot in the leg, a leg which buckled at an awkward angle before it failed him on his second step. He lay on the ground with a bitter expression on his face.
Acel knew full well that Hayder’s weakness was his strength. He could divide himself but he always felt every bit of the pain he experienced. A man like that should be used to a certain amount of discomfort but plasma was different than a knife wound. At least a knife could be removed. Acel regretted he would not develop blood poisoning, but only consoled himself by remembering that he would not live long enough to do so.
It was only a second later that Acel saw the arrow that was destined for his own neck.
'That should keep him busy,' the petulant little girl thought.
Acel raised his eyebrow and did not even bother to step aside. The plasma arrow was stopped immediately by his telekinesis. He could have just as easily batted it down as if he were pushing a tottering child over. He watched it before him sparking in the air and thought, curiously, whether or not he could contain it. With only his fingertips he stroked the arrow and it sizzled against his skin harmlessly.
“Busy,” Acel said, “indeed.”
He turned to Angelus and summoned a gigantic ball of energy into his hands and released it. Just at that moment the women scrambled away, disappearing into thin air.
“That’s your thing,” Set said thickly.
Acel cut his eyes, wondering how he could have such a simple nephew. “Pathetic. I would expect better from a telepath who thinks so much of herself. Especially since the only player that matters in this game is Hayder and she has rendered him completely defenseless.”
“What shall I do, sir?” Set asked quietly. He surveyed the battle scene. Arael was still reeling and Frey had made no effort to engage in battle. A glimmering metallic man was obscured in the alley. Voyeurs.
“Finish him,” Acel replied impassively.
Set descended on the wounded man. “Some friends you have,” the handsome man said smirking. “Looks like they came to help you, but really, they made killing you that much easier.” He stuck the toe of his shoe in the wound that had killed the first Hayder. Or at least he looked dead, his eyes were glassy and rolled back in his head. Set playfully skipped between the still living Hayder’s legs as if he were playing a childhood game. With as much mirth he sank his axe into his arm. The pain was indescribable. With the second swing he severed it completely.
Hayder, full to the brim with suffering, held down the urge to vomit. He would not give Set the satisfaction. He felt the man near him, bow down to where he was to say something quietly in his ear. “How does it feel?” he asked earnestly, “To die all the time?”
“A coward dies a thousand deaths,” Hayder said, “the brave die but once.”
Set looked impressed. “That’s pretty good, cousin. Who said that?”
“Shakespeare,” he said in a ragged breath.
“Who is Shakespeare?” Set asked, casually, sinking his axe into the already wounded leg.
Hayder’s world was again split with pain, and it was in that instant that he realized his mistake. He gasped, his leg throbbing, he tried to rearrange his thoughts but it had already happened.
“Shake-speare,” Acel said testing the word. “A man a beautiful woman introduced you to. A woman.” A cruel look played across his face. If Hayder had a woman, wouldn’t it be even more amusing to have him watch her die? “Halt.” Acel said.
“I’m almost done, sir,” Set said. He did not want to push their luck. This was supposed to be an in and out mission. “Hayder’s friends have abandoned him, no one cares for him. I am one stroke away from killing him, fulfilling our contract, sir.” He reared the axe back.
“Then show no mercy,” Acel said.
“Wait just a minute there Ace," came a voice from behind him. Angelus. She had nicknames now?
“I have nothing but time, child.”
"We've got to do some talking. See, for someone that likes to talk about everyone else's flaws you don't seem to like to face your own." She launched three plasma arrows at him, which hit him directly.
"Like your ego-maniacal tendencies," she said parting another bolt into him.
"Or your refusal to admit that you don't come from the noble family you claim to," she sank three more into his side.
“Lies,” he said. But as he peered into her mind he saw her eyes roving over a letter held in a small child’s hands.
"Your utter disrespect for the dead," Angelus continued, unleashing another trio of missiles.
"Or the fact that, at the end of the day, you kind of look like Fu Manchu," she hit him with one more arrow.
"Any way you slice it," she finished, reappearing above him making it an even fourteen, "You're being might presumptuous criticizing others."
Acel’s body radiated with the power of over a dozen plasma beams. The air was hot with it.
Set watched in sheer confusion as Angelus turned her back on Acel to engage in a friendly conversation with her companions. Mistake.
“And so are you,” Acel said.
He stood up, his body white with electricity, and moved with untrackable speed to throw his shoulder into Frey’s stomach. The man sailed. Acel grabbed Fenris’ wrists and released every ounce of the plasma into her body. “A gift, from your charge,” he said quietly.
He grabbed Angelus by the collar of her shirt as if she were a disrespectful child. He was over six feet tall and her legs dangled, nowhere near the ground. He peered into her yellow eyes, sucking the strength out of her fragile body. “You are a confident one, aren’t you, Angelus? I want you to remember why. The way you feel right now. Smell it, the heavy scent of plasma. Feel it, the pride you had inside you.” Her body shook as the magic bled out of her, “Remember the feeling of magic, power, coursing through your veins. Remember being someone brave. The strength slipping through your grasp, the growing, killing need to replenish that will consume you to the end of your days. The helplessness that comes with powerlessness. But I do not need to remind you of these things… you are feeling them all right now.”
He dropped her onto the ground. Stripped, defenseless. “I know what you are, Angelus, and your greatest flaw is the most obvious one. Hubris. I am the healer and the destroyer. You have finally met your nemesis.” He picked Angelus up and tossed her like a discarded piece of trash onto Fenris’ body.
Set was stunned. The air was thick with the smell of something burning.
“I will kill him myself,” Acel said slowly approaching Hayder then he saw someone else standing in the alley.
“Skratch,” he called, “What are you doing here? Regus got tired of you bumbling around? You’ve been thinking very seriously of interfering but you have not. Since machines are not capable of selfishness, I suppose you are human after all.”
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Angelus had never felt so much pain in her life. She lay beside the fallen body of her charge, her eyes struggling to remain focused on the world around her, and could think of nothing else but how much everything in her hurt right now. Not just her body, though ever inch of her seemed to scream from the pain of having her powers sucked out of her, but her emotional pain as well. She felt tears sting her eyes for the second time that day, adding to the pain already coursing through her. She had failed, fallen short, and worst of all she had fallen because of her own foolish pride. She had once again let down the people that relied on her, all because she had thought she could accomplish anything. Now her stupidity had cost her her dearest friend, and had probably made her sister even more ashamed of her. She cried out in her mind for Esse, but it seemed that the shame of what she had done had cost her the connection she had just established with her sister too. But, slowly, Angelus realized that this wasn't the case. It wasn't that Esse wasn't responding, it was that Angelus' thoughts weren't reaching her. She tried to scan the thoughts of the others around her, but found that she couldn't. Her worst fear was confirmed, she could no longer sense the connections between the others that littered the square, she could not feel the ebb and flow of their thoughts. It was like suddenly waking up and realizing that your nerves had stopped sending messages to the rest of your limbs, yet being forced to deal with their continued, independent action. Realizing the full extent of her weakness her shame deepened, and against her will Angelus found herself being shaken by her own powerful sobs. These grew harder as they amplified the pain from her body, and realizing how complete her fall had been she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped herself in the blanket of her arms, realizing there was nothing left to do but lament. Yet somehow, something in the corner of her mind interrupted her sorrow, however complete it was. Because she was still a guardian, even now, and she was still more than that to Fenris. She was a friend, and she had to make sure that her charge, and her closest friend, hadn't been lost. She rolled over painfully, and looked at the fallen form beside her. She was relieved to find that while Fenris' breathing was ragged, it was still constant, and that a faint pulse still beat in her chest. There were signs of an impending change, but while the warrior was radiating some of the energy that came with the change her eyes remained closed. She must be fighting even now to remain herself. In the distance there was a cry of pain from Frey, who followed it up with a shout of, "Seriously? The stomach? I JUST ate." The angel smiled, taking a moment to brush a hair behind Fenris' ear as Frey wretched from where he lay. Maybe all wasn't lost after all. *** Fenris still hated this place, though she was aware of the fact that it was not, in reality, a place at all. Still, she entered this recess of her mind, watching as the familiar shadow coiled it's way around her. 'Couldn't quite live up to your reputation, eh, Fen?' The familiar voice taunted. 'He caught me off guard,' She said calmly, 'I'm sure I could take him.' The mist swirling around her gave way to three pinpoints of light, two of which grew into narrowed eyes, the third expanding into a ghastly, malicious grin. 'Sure you could've,'It said, 'Just like you could have taken Thor.' Fenris glared into the mist, hating this game already. 'If I remember correctly the last time I let you help me was against Thor, and all it got me was a cracked skull and a couple days of unconsciousness,' She pointed out. The mist seemed to rise and fall in an imitation of a shrug. 'True,' It said, 'But you fared much better after our interference.' It seemed to swell in malicious glee again. 'Anyway, we can't let a mere prideful man stop us, we are, after all, a pair of god-slayers,' It said. Fenris narrowed her eyes again, annoyed at the assertation that they were a team. 'I'm a God-slayer, you're a curse given to me by my dearest father,' She pointed out. The mist seemed to draw together sharply, as if annoyed. 'We did not ask to be restricted to such a feeble form, your trickster of a parent fooled us into believing that this form would be sturdy enough for us to accomplish our goals,' It said matter-of-factly in it's harsh whisper, 'Obviously he was mistaken.' Fenris smiled, placing her hands behind her head and leaning back against the nothing. 'Pride is for foxes, not wolves,' She said, 'Though your attempts at persuasion also seem very foxlike. I'd almost swear that I wasn't housing a wolf spirit at all.' The mist billowed angrily. 'A dangerous assertation, little girl,' It hissed,'If you do not watch your words we may never allow you to control this form again.' Fenris laughed openly at this, surprised to find herself unafraid of the billowing mist that had haunted her dreams since her childhood. 'You never allowed me to do anything,' She said, 'I have always controlled this form because I have a stronger will than you. This is my body. You only continue to reside in it because I haven't found a way to get rid of you yet.' The mist said nothing to this, it only continued to darken it's circle around her. 'Either way,' It said after time, it's tone measured, 'We stand at an impasse. If you allow us to take over we may never let you regain this form. If you don't allow us to fight, then we will both certainly die.' Fenris considered this, seeing the truth in it. Then another thought occurred to her. 'When did you become a we?' She asked nonchalantly, 'Every other time we've spoken you've identified yourself as 'I'.' 'We have always been legion, we have simply found ourselves thanks to the interference of the guardian, and her intrusions upon your mind. We have discovered, or, perhaps remembered, that we do not kill what we devour. We only absorb,' the mist said, 'We have remembered who we are. Who we all are.' With that the mist formed itself into several concrete forms, a billowing cloud of various wolves, each with shining white eyes, and blazing white teeth. 'We do not plan to die,' It told her, 'Give us this body and we may fight for your life as well as ours.' Fenris pretended to think this over, before shaking her head boredly. 'No, I don't think I'm gonna' do that,' She said. The wolves all growled, one stepping forward to address her. 'And why not?' It asked. She smiled, realizing that, since this was her mind, it was also her domain. She drew a thin shaft of light from the air, and watched as it formed her blade. 'Because if we fight,' She said, recognizing the wolves as part of herself, 'We will certainly die.' The head wolf glared at her, examining the blade in her hand. 'Then what shall we do?' It asked. Fenris smiled again, staring straight at the wolf. 'What you've always been able to do, but have refused to tell me,' She said, 'Heal this body and then give me back control.' The wolf growled at her, but faded back into mist, it's brothers joining it. 'As you wish,' The billowing mist whispered, 'Just beware that we may not always be so kind.' Fenris said nothing as she watched the mist dissipate. She knew the threat was hollow. The wolves would always do as she said now. They were aware that they could not afford to do otherwise. *** Angelus' heart almost stopped as she watched Fenris eyes snap open, revealing blazing yellow irises. A scowl quickly spread across her face, and the hint of a fang poked out of her lips. "You," Angelus whispered fearfully. The voice that answered her was not Fenris'. It was a harsh whisper, but one that did not seem to have the glee that Angelus had come to associate with it. "Do not worry yourself, little one," It said, not making any real effort to calm the angel, "We have not come to fight today." Angelus was confused, as she had never known the wolf-spirit to shy from combat. "Then what have you come for?" She asked. The wolf scowled again, distorting Fenris features further. "We are here to heal," The wolf said, "The mistress thought it best." Angelus had no idea what to make of this, but as she watched, feeling the energy radiating off of Fenris she noticed her wounds closing, the blood retreating back into the veins it had escaped from. She stared in shock until she felt the fierce eyes of the wolf on her again. She looked up at the face, and saw concentrated rage on it, directed straight at her. "We are not happy with you, little angel," The whisper said, seeming harsher than before. Angelus was confused again, and her she lifted an eyebrow to express this. "And why's that?" She asked. The wolf shook Fenris' head, seeming confused by the gesture, and as if it was struggling. "You have made the mistress stronger," It said, "Too strong. We cannot fight against her anymore. Instead we must work alongside her. It may not be long now before we must recognize her as our master." Angelus smiled, glad to see that there was at least one bright spot in this dismal day. "That's my girl, Fen," She whispered. The wolf said nothing, it just continued to glare at her as slowly but surely it put the fallen warrior back together.
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Pounce was transfixed by the way the mirror image moved independently of what it was supposed to be reflecting. After Regus had retrieved the book, and everything went back to normal, Pounce spent several minutes just staring and pawing at the mirror to see if it would happen again. She was half listening as Regus explained Havermonte's theory of soul.
Jimmy tried his best to follow the explanation, but he was a man of tools and machines. He understood about realms and magic, though he had no capabilities in the field himself, and got completely lost when anybody started talking about energies and theories. Once the conversation turned to psychology and theory, he quickly became distracted by Pounce's antics.
Abedah, on the other hand, loved the whole discussion.
“Now what we would have to do is put your body under the complete control of one of your energies. One of which is the mage, fully aware of her powers and able to use them but unable to consciously enter this world. The other I’m guessing is completely unable to use magic, unaware that such a thing even exists. The pieces of those two are both partially awake in you right now, and you have to learn to reconcile them. They are both you, and yet neither of them are you completely. In theory, once you learn to communicate with both halves of yourself, you should gain the full memories of both parties as it were, one true individual made up of two component parts,” Regus was saying.
This was it. Abedah nodded with both understanding and appreciation.
Regus slammed the book, causing both Pounce and Jimmy to turn their heads and rejoin the discussion.
“You could be the rewrite of scientific and magical theory at its very most basic principles! It could be a whole new world of possibility!”
Regus leaned his chair back on two legs and threw his legs on the table again, calming himself but still smiling. “Then again, I could be completely wrong and you could be just like my old friend Neil.”
Abedah drew her breath, allowing her old mature self to take control of the energetic enthusiasm her younger self could barely contain. "I am not like Neil. I have been a student of psychology for over forty-five years, though I only appear to be twenty."
"Don't listen to her; she's just plain nuts," Pounce interrupted.
Abedah glared at the cat annoyedly and continued, "Havermonte's theory sounds exactly like the situation I am in. The body I am using I assume was born in Limbo and was raised in magic. When I entered, I came from a different universe, not just a different realm, where magic does not exist per se. We have the ability to manipulate some of the most basic particles and energies of the cosmos by way of machines, and in addition to being an expert in the human mind, I am also an expert in instructing and manipulating those machines. To us, magic is nothing more than technology that we do not yet understand. Here, however, it is something different. If you have the ability to help me reconcile these two parts of myself, and are willing to do it, I am ready."
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Arael grumbled and groaned, his head was on fire, his back sore, and his arms felt as though they’d been cut off with a rusty spoon.
“If you ever decide to become corporeal Teller, remind me to cut off your arms and legs.”
“Duly noted.”
Arael let his head drop back onto the ground; the surface was cool to the touch, smooth and seamless.
A surface that was decidedly not cobblestone.
Arael’s eyes shot open, and leaning forward he scanned his new surroundings. It was dark; the ebony ground extending on a flat plane out to the edge of his vision, nearby several small pools flowed from one into another, creating small ripples and the only change to the landscape, by sight or by sound.
Limbo.
He wanted to get up and run. To get away from the bleakness that had been his prison for uncountable years. To get up and never have to hear the sound of that fountain again. Even to die slowly would be a welcome relief. But one didn’t die in limbo on their own. They were kept their, until otherwise released.
“You have died in here before actually. I brought you back, and maybe did a little mind wipe.” echoed Teller’s voice.
“Why am I back here Teller?” said Arael. He let himself lay back on the ground, watching the ripples extend through the seemingly solid surface wherever he touched it. He was too sore to move, too tired to even think anymore.
“Because you are about to die again. Back in Zion, you are lying unconscious on the ground, slowly bleeding from bite wounds. A piece of your arm has been torn off as well. Your new companions are fighting bravely, but Acel is going to be too much for them.”
“Who?”
“Acel. He’s the one slowly skewering your new friends.”
“They’re pirates. For all I know Acel is doing some good tonight and ridding Kyle of his henchmen.”
“Is that really what you think?” asked Teller.
“I spent more than half my life fighting for what I thought was right and obeying orders, only to be betrayed by what I thought was the high moral power of my world. I don’t know what to think anymore. Maybe every once in awhile it pays to not fight to defend the high moral ground.”
“You mean like it worked out for Aker and Yemoja? And how it worked out for Kelley?”
“Don’t you bring her into this!” his yell echoed throughout Limbo. It had been years since he had seen Kelley as well. And he had never quite been able to get their private encounter in Yemoja’s castle out of his head. That beautiful red dress that matched her hair, her freckles and deep green eyes…
“Arael, you’re still dying out there. No time for daydreaming about pretty girls turned evil God Queens.”
“Considering all of Illusiona doesn’t seem to be under her control right now I can only assume that the rest of the True Ones were able to stop her.”
“Be that as it may, keep her out of your mind for now. You need to meet someone in that courtyard. Someone who is very powerful. The key to getting your wings back, and to saving your life by the by, is back with your soon to be rotting corpse.”
“Is that all you brought me here for Teller? To tell me I’m dying?”
“And to tell you to find your new partner. They’re in that square, and if you want to get your wings back you’ll find out which one it is.”
“I don’t suppose you could just tell me?”
“Sorry Arael, rules of the ‘verse and all. I tell you now and you never learn a thing.”
Despite his soreness, Arael stood. Being in Limbo dulled the pain, but it still hurt. “Send me back Teller. And keep to yourself if you aren’t going to be helpful.” The ground beneath Arael started to ripple, light emitting from the floor. Slowly he felt his grasp on Limbo slip away and he began to fall through the floor. “Wait! If I’m dying how am I supposed to find…” and then the lights went out, and the pain came back.
The ‘show’ had turned into something far more astounding than Skratch and Regus had ever attempted together. Bolts of magic, replicants, shifters, this had it all. Unfortunately for Skratch the show had turned deadly. This was for real, and the body count was beginning to pile up. It was true Skratch had never used real battle magic before. It had always been staged and carefully choreographed weeks before any real fight had taken place. This was different. If he entered the fight there was a real chance he could be a heap of scrap metal in moments, and all questions of his soul would be brought to a fairly quick conclusion.
But people were dying. Something inside him wouldn’t stand for that.
He started to run for the man that had turned into an ape. He landed hard and hadn’t yet woken up, and blood was flowing freely from his arm. But three steps away from his spot against the wall he froze. It wasn’t intentional, and it wasn’t fear. He had completely locked up. He was unable to do so much as wiggle a finger or raise a copper eyebrow. A voice called out to him, not just out loud, but in his mind as well.
“Skratch,” he called, “What are you doing here? Regus got tired of you bumbling around?”
He sent me to enjoy the Festival. Regus found he could no longer speak of his own free will either.
“You’ve been thinking very seriously of interfering but you have not. Since machines are not capable of selfishness, I suppose you are human after all.”
What do you know about me? And about Regus? Who are you? Skratch new he should be afraid, terrified even. This man had taken control of his body. The same man that had just sent a half dozen people sprawling to the ground bloodied, beaten, and dying. But he couldn’t ignore his curiosity. For the moment he was trapped inside his own mind with only one person to talk to.
A bolt of lightning woke Arael from his slumber. At least, that was what the pain felt like. His arm was beginning to go numb, which was great for the pain, but meant he was going to lose the limb and possibly more if it wasn’t treated quickly. The rest of him hadn’t gone numb yet and as such felt like every nerve ending had been dipped in battery acid. If he had had the strength, he would have been screaming. Instead all he could manage to get out was one, quiet syllable.
“cel…”
He had been in Limbo, or at least he thought he had. It seemed too real to be a pain induced hallucination. But what was it that Teller had told him? It was something important he remembered. Or, was it someone? Someone important. That was it. Acel. Teller had said something about Acel, and that he was important to Arael. He tried again; vaguely aware he couldn’t feel or move his legs anymore.
“Acel…”
And then for the second time in as many minutes, the lights went out again.
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“To us, magic is nothing more than technology that we do not yet understand. Here, however, it is something different. If you have the ability to help me reconcile these two parts of myself, and are willing to do it, I am ready."
Regus could hardly believe what he had sitting in front of him. A body that had had another soul placed inside of it. The ramifications were staggering. Over the years, and there were many more than Regus had ever wanted to let on, Regus had become something of an expert on Havermonte, nearly to the point of obsession.
“This is the part I’m not sure about, because this is where the research ends. There never was a confirmed case of Havermonte Occupancy before. We have absolutely no basis for how to quiet one of you and bring out the other, and what it would do putting you out, or how to get the other half back. It could be dangerous. Not to mention the effects of bringing a personality out of what might essentially be extended stasis. Especially when magic is involved.”
Regus walked back over to his mirror, but referenced the bookshelf beside it this time. No great magical resources were held on this shelf. Compliance officers cared little for psychology, math, science or any sort of book a tradesmen might have on his shelf. But in this case, maybe they were just the thing that they needed in this situation.
Loading his arms with several copies of old psychology books he moved on and took a small wooden bowl off of a high shelf, and filled it with water. Sitting once again at the table he put the pile of books in front of Abedah.
“If you want to help, you may as well start reading.” She sounded smart enough to understand those books. He would have to ask her what kind of place she came from where machines could manipulate the energies of the universe without the assistance of magic. It sounded like a fantastic place.
“We’re looking for anything to do with personality. More than one maybe. Anything that can help. Unless of course you know anything I don’t that you’re willing to share. And I think for this, I’m going to have to contact an old colleague of mind. He’s got brains, and a research library the size of Zion herself to back them up.”
Regus looked down into his bowl and uttered a few words, waving twice over the clear and calm liquid. Slowly, the water began to cloud, like someone had kicked up dirt in a clear stream. And soon a figure began to emerge from the cloud.
Amidst a small mountain of books and paperwork; in a large office tucked snugly away within the Archives, sat a man. He was not a muscular man, but neither was he scrawny. Long black hair was tied back in a braided ponytail over his shoulder, revealing a slightly too large forehead and alert, searching eyes. He flipped through the pages of various works and ledgers with the dexterity of a surgeon, and scribbled notes into his own ledger with the same care and grace as an artist.
Strapped to his arms were bracers attached to leather gloves. It was a curious accessory for an archivist to wear, but these were of his own special design, and had revolutionized the way his people communicated with each other. One of his bracers slowly began to cloud. The man put down his quill and earmarked the pages he was researching, and waved his right hand once over his left, establishing the bond with the other end of the link.
“Regus! Good to see you’re still using my technique. The next time you visit I’ll have to outfit you with a pair of my new inventions. It makes the whole process much much easier.”
The head on his arm spoke back. “I can’t wait to see them old friend, I’m sure they’re wonderful. But I think I’ve got something a bit bigger on my hands here.”
“Something new? I can’t wait to hear about It.” he responded.
“Meet it.” The view shifted from Regus to a girl, pretty and young, accompanied by another man and a cat resting on the table. “This girl,” Regus continued, “may be the first recorded Havermonte Occupation in history. Say hello Artemis.”
His Sentinel wings unfolded in shock, spilling ink over what had just been a week’s worth of busywork.
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Abedah began reading the books Regus had set before her. As she flipped through them, skimming, she was amazed at how primitive the understanding of the human mind was in this realm. Though, in a place where magic was more highly considered than science, it shouldn't have amazed her too much. It was still recent history where humanity understood the functioning of the brain and central nervous system enough to develop the monitor technology, and it still wasn't perfect. Theory of mind and personality were generally considered different subjects.
While Abedah was looking over the books and Regus was scrying his friend, Jimmy excused himself. "I feel like I'm not needed here at the moment, and it's not safe for me to be too long without a sword. If there were a shop open late on any night, I think tonight would be it."
After Regus introduced the dilemma to his friend, Abedah was a bit surprised to see he was another winged creature like Angelus, only quite a bit bigger and apparently stronger. "Good evening, or whatever time it may be where you are. I am Abedah, or at least part of me is as I am understanding, and we're hoping you might have some ideas how to put these two parts together."
After hearing Artemis' response, she looked at Regus in the eyes. "You asked me if I knew anything about psychology that you didn't. If your knowledge is limited to what is in these texts, then I must say that I know quite a bit more than you do. In my universe, there are three theories on how what you call a Havermonte Occupation can occur, only one of which is addressed in your books.
"The first is a mental illness, which we call Multiple Personality Disorder. Typically this comes about as a result of a seriously traumatic experience, often during childhood. The different personalities emerge almost uncontrollably, and depending on the case, may or may not be aware of each other. Since I did not have any trauma before coming to this realm, and I distinctly remember living in another universe and another body before arriving here, these are contraindications of MPD.
"The second is religious, which is touched on in the books. In my universe, there are beliefs that a realm of invisible beings coexists with ours, and that at times these beings may inhabit a human host like a parasite and control their actions. This theory has never been proven, but as with most religious theories, proof or lack thereof rarely deters its adherents. The possessor often gives the host what you might call magical abilities, but nearly always uses them for malicious purposes. Since in my case it is the host who has the magical ability and not me as the possessor, if you will, I do not think this is the correct theory either.
"The third way is by use of a technological transfer of consciousness. There have been a handful of experiments about this in my universe, usually from a biological body to a mechanical one, but none that I am aware of have been successful. However, considering what I was doing at the time I came here, and having met your friend Skratch, I think this is the most likely explanation."
Pounce, who was listening intently to all this, scratched her ear for a moment and asked, "Regus, do you have any cheese? The kind with holes in it?"
Abedah glared at the cat again. "Can you ever think about anything other than your stomach?"
"No, no. It's not that, though I am a bit hungry again; I think I remember something from a TV show, a vid, that might be like this. It had something to do with cheese, but I can't quite remember. It's an old show, not on anymore. I thought if I could look at it, I'd remember the vid."
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True, Alex may have had a little much to drink that night. But even so, that was not the way that you spoke to a friend. You didn't judge them when they were on hard times. You didn't just let them walk out the door, disappointed because after the years had weathered away at the image of your memories, the final sculpture wasn't exactly in the condition that you'd left it.
There were easily parts of Alex that grated on his own personality. But in it all, he knew he was justified. The world had abandoned him. His friends had abandoned him, both in this realm and the next. He had only himself to depend on, and he refused to let himself fail.
The Captain picked his way through the streets, ignoring the rush of onlookers and bustling action that seemed to be taking place behind him. Explosions rocked through the alleyways, but Alex just figured that it was all part of the grand celebration. Instead, he wanted to simply distance himself from his former friend who had only looked upon him with scorn.
There was an itch running through his hand. And this one required a very specific action to scratch. He needed something to hit. Something to engage in a physical battle.
And at the moment, he wasn't all that picky.
A young boy slammed into him, spilling the last glass of Amber that he'd been nursing out the door onto his coat and tunic.
He spun, gripping the clumsy lad by his collar, lifting him into the air, holding him at arm's length as little feet wriggled and arms grasped tight against Alex's hand. Wide blue eyes looked back at the pirate, the fear of death begging for mercy beneath a mop of auburn hair. He could toss this boy into a wall without even thinking twice. Here, on this one night, there was a free pass for absolute chaos, and this boy had fortuitously arrived just in time.
Two other boys stood to the side, watching with concern. One approached, fearful, but brave.
"Please, sir! It was an accident!"
"Or an unbelievable case of bad luck," said Alex through his teeth. The boy in his grip continued to squirm.
"He didn't mean to!" Said the other boy.
"Well," said Alex, angry, but thoughtful. "Then what's he worth to you two, eh? How much coin are you carrying?"
The two boys looked at one another with alarm, and Alex's smirk appeared. Perhaps he didn't have to injure the boy to get something out of this little accident, after all.
Then Arael's words drifted into the pirate Captain's mind.
"I knew a man with honor," a voice echoed in his mind. "A man who fought for the good. Not one who preyed on those weaker than him. What happened?
Alex hesitated.
He truly was falling. It had only been four years, had he really changed so much? Arael had treated him with revulsion, recoiling from his tales as one might avoid a spider, or a snake. Could it be that his spiral had been so gradual, so slow, that he'd not noticed the change?
When had Alex gone from prince to pirate?
A sudden pain sliced across his arm, causing him to drop the boy in a heap on the cobblestone ground. Alex let out a growl, as he clutched at his right arm. His one real arm.
A whipping noise flew through the air, accompanying a familiar shape from Alex's past. The flying projectile swept back towards a shadowed figure at the other end of the alleyway, until finally the shape caught the flying item in mid-flight. A voice echoed across the space between them.
"Run, boys," he said calmly. It was a voice that Alex recognized, almost as if it could be his own. The three boys wasted no time in sprinting away from their attacker, leaving the alley far behind as rain began to fall, drizzling its way into the alleyway.
The shadows darkened his features, but it was obvious that both Alex and this mystery man were roughly the same build. Same height, same girth. Alex wouldn't have any distinct physical advantage here. Still, it was a fight, and Alex was only too anxious to get started.
"A do-gooder, then," said Alex, his smirk reappearing. He pulled back his shoulders, and removed his rain and Amber-soaked jacket, letting it fall to the stone. He started to approach, his hand drifting down to the rapier at his waist. "Your type is always meddling in things you shouldn't."
"A man who attacks a child has no right to judge," replied the man in the shadows. He stood his ground as Alex continued stalking forward.
"Ah," said Alex. "But you seem to be judging plenty enough for the both of us. You see yourself as better than me, don't you?"
There was a pause, but just for a moment. "Yes," said the man. "I am better than you."
Anger flashed across Alex's face, and he ripped his rapier from its holster, aiming it at the mystery man with brazen challenge.
"Prove it, then!" Alex rushed the man, bringing down a strike to simply cut the man in two. The man sidestepped, and Alex could hear the unmistakable sound of steel sliding against steel as a weapon was unsheathed. Alex spun, and parrying a blow that knocked him backwards. Luckily, the pirate stayed on his feet.
His opponent was wielding a larger, one-and-a-half handed sword, which would offer a crushing advantage if Alex wasn't careful. In the stubborn torchlight, the blade seemed to shine a pale blue, much like a sword that Alex himself had once used.
Bringing his sword up again, the pirate charged, leading with a quick feint and swiping across from the right. The man deftly anticipated the move, and blocked the incoming swing with his sword, leaving the pirate completely open for a not-undeserved right hook to the jaw. Recovering, Alex found blood mingling with the rain dripping its way into his mouth.
"Lucky shot," said the captain.
"An easy parry, pirate," said the shadow-cloaked warrior. "You should really work on your technique."
Enraged, Alex leaped forward, his rapier swinging with speed and ferocity. The man blocked, parried, and dodged, just barely out of the pirate's reach. It was a frustrating and exhilarating rush as blade met blade again and again. The rain increased, and thunder echoed above. Swing after swing, Alex's eyes were wild with unbridled rage as he continued his attack.
He was a crazed animal, unleashing all of his fury upon this unfortunate adventurer. Who cared who he was? It did not matter. This man had dared to cross him, on this day, of all days.
His friends had abandoned him long ago. His past had returned today to inform him of his own failings. But now he knew that his path was assured. He no longer needed to ride the fence. He no longer need feel guilty about who he had become. If the world saw a pirate, than he would be a bloody pirate!
He swung again, and this time, the man caught the rapier on his gauntlet, intending to sweep his own sword for Alex's feet. Anticipating the move, Alex leaped, and then swung down. The man leaned backwards to dodge, the razor's edge missing him by inches, but this left him completely exposed.
Alex kicked the man as hard as he could, sending him tumbling to the cobblestone street.
Laughter echoed from the pirate Captain's throat as he approached his fallen foe. He aimed his rapier downward as the man glared up at him.
"Better than me, are you?" Said Alex with a smile. "You think you're better than me? Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Of course," said the man. "You're Kyle Brogan."
Confusion, and a little bit of anger flashed across Alex's face. "How do you know that name?" He seethed.
"At one point," said the man, amazingly calm considering the blade at his throat. "You were the most famous warrior in Illusionia. Now, you're nothing but a common hood."
"You've got an itching to die, don't you?"
"Not going to die this time," said the man. "Not from you."
"Seem awfully sure of yourself for someone who's got a sword to his neck."
"Well you see, there's a difference between you and me," said the man. "I've got friends."
Alex heard the unmistakable sound of a gun hammer being cocked directly behind his head. There would be no chance to turn in time before the bullet was launched into his skull from point-blank range.
The voice behind him was absolutely familiar.
"Put down the sword," he said calmly. Alex complied, dropping his weapon. The swordsman on the floor stood up.
"Geez," he said, picking up Alex's rapier. "I thought you were going to leave me there."
"Thought about it," said the voice.
"So what now?" Said Alex impatiently.
"Well," said the voice. "I think we have some business to discuss." Alex was suddenly kicked forward, away from both men, and he was finally able to turn and see who had dared to pull a gun on him.
There, Alex saw the Blue-Blade Warrior himself, staring at the pirate through the sights of a steam-lock pistol.
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Artemis closed his sprawling wings behind his back and took stock of the damage. Usually the loss of a week’s worth of work to a spilt ink jar was cause for alarm, or at least a few broken quills and a mass quantity of foul language. But Regus had a tendency of taking words out of one’s mouth.
“You’re kidding right? You know that’s never been proven.” said Artemis.
“Hence the emphasis on first. Now say hello.”
“Umm…hello?”
"Good evening or whatever time it may be where you are. I am Abedah, or at least part of me is as I am understanding, and we're hoping you might have some ideas how to put these two parts together."
She’s a confident one that’s for sure.
“Nice to meet you Abedah.” he said turning his attention back to Regus. “You can’t really think that that Havermonte was actually right about anything in his book do you?”
“I know he is Artemis. I’ve seen the proof. I’ve told you before.”
“That is completely different tha-“
"You asked me if I knew anything about psychology that you didn't.” Abedah interjected. Really she was strong willed. Regus did know how to pick them. “If your knowledge is limited to what is in these texts, then I must say that I know quite a bit more than you do. In my universe, there are three theories on how what you call a Havermonte Occupation can occur, only one of which is addressed in your books.”
She launched into a lecture about religion, and disorders, and mechanical something or other of something or other. Who was this girl?
“…However, considering what I was doing at the time I came here, and having met your friend Skratch, I think this is the most likely explanation."
She’s they key. This has to be it.
“So what you’re saying…” started Regus, “…is that you can move one person’s being, into a completely different vessel without using magic at all?” Artemis had seen the look in Regus’ eyes before. He had almost lost an arm to it.
“Try not to cut her open or anything like that, eh Regus?”
“I haven’t done anything like that in years.” He shot a glance at Abedah. “He’s just kidding. I never cut open things that can still feel it. Usually.”
"Regus, do you have any cheese? The kind with holes in it?" Pounce must have had a strong stomach, or was maybe just ignoring the talk about cutting things open.
“Well, umm...no?” he shrugged apologetically. Confusing little one.
Abedah glared at the cat again. "Can you ever think about anything other than your stomach?"
"No, no. It's not that, though I am a bit hungry again; I think I remember something from a TV show, a vid, that might be like this. It had something to do with cheese, but I can't quite remember. It's an old show, not on anymore. I thought if I could look at it, I'd remember the vid."
“Well, I don’t have any cheese here, even the kind with holes in it. And I have no idea what a ‘vid’ is. But if it’ll help, I’m sure there’s still a shop open tonight, just like Jimmy hinted at. And since we don’t seem to have any other kinds of ideas, we might as well think on full stomachs.”
“I’ll work on it in the mean time Regus.” called Artemis from the bowl. “This bears…further study.” The water cleared, and Artemis was gone.
“Well, it’s Festival night and we’re still inside. What say we go out for a bite?”
Artemis relaxed back into his chair, though he was anything but. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. The girl seemed educated enough, certainly enough in her own head to be sane. Then again, who knew these days? She certainly had Regus convinced.
Regus has been acting strange for a long while now. Ever since he brought his mechanical friend to life, there’s been something different about him. Something more, alive and almost wild. What exactly does he think?
The large oak doors to his office opened tentatively, and a lower grade archivist intruded upon his thoughts.
“Everything alright in here sir? I heard a crash, and voices.”
“Everything is fine. Just a little spill.” He gestured to his now ink soaked work.
The young Sentinel nodded slowly. “Alright sir. Just checking in.”
“Thank you. It is appreciated.”
The younger Sentinel nodded once more before closing the door behind him. Artemis let out an audible groan. Research into such strange theories was generally frowned upon in Sentinel society. If a discovery wasn’t seen as inherently useful in and of itself, like the bracers Artemis had invented, then it wasn’t quite taboo, but it still wasn’t looked upon kindly. The Council already disliked Artemis associating with an outside source in his research. They made a show about diplomacy and work for the common good throughout Illusiona, but if there ever was a more reclusive and secretive group when it came to advancing their own ends, it was the Council.
Artemis began to straighten and clean his desk before bringing out a new stack of forms. Even as Head Archivist, he still had deadlines, and he needed some quiet busywork to think straight.
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Jimmy had always been a bit queasy when it came to scrying. He wasn't sure why, but the disembodied images hovering in the air were just too unnatural for him. So when Regus started calling up his friend, Jimmy took the opportunity to bow out. What he said about needing a sword was quite true, and on a night of revelry, there were sure to be more than a few blowhards looking to prove their manhood, and more than one or two wise business folk who saw an opportunity to profit from the melee.
He wandered around the streets not quite aimlessly, staying away from the center of activity, but also staying away from what looked like the worst part of the city. He wasn't from Zion, but he knew the city was well-known for not being what it seemed. On a dark street, there were a few shops with lights on. One in particular had no shingle to identify either the proprietor or the merchandise carried, but a column of polished black steel standing tall in the window made it clear Jimmy had found what he was looking for.
The door was unlocked, and several mannequins garbed in all manner of fighting gear greeted him. Blades of various lengths and styles sat perched on their hangers below the ceiling.
"Yani palu?" the owner asked. Can I help you?
"Ya renyu klanna." I need a sword.
"What I have is not cheap," the merchant continued in Zionese. "But it has kept many men better than you alive in dangerous places. And not a few women."
Jimmy ignored the insult. His accent obviously gave him away as an outsider, as did his eastern appearance. This proprietor must have had some bad dealings with foreigners in the past, and Jimmy, being well travelled himself, did not take it as the insult it may have been intended as. "If I wanted cheap, I would have gone elsewhere," Jimmy replied.
The merchant appreciated the compliment and nodded. "Do you need a sword of magic for this night, or something to take on your journey?" The implication that he was not welcome to stay in Zion was clear enough, though the words were not said.
"I do not know where my journeys will take me, nor where they will end," but maybe I'll stay just to get under your skin. "I need something light, but strong, and discrete with an average reach."
"I never sell a blade without learning how you use it first. Come to the back with me. I have a few bokken you can use to demonstrate." Jimmy might have been suspicious, but the man, though he was quite clear about his dislike of foreigners, was savvy enough to accept their money and send them on their way. The back room was a studio, just as the merchant had said. Jimmy looked over the selection of wooden practice swords and selected one with an edge roughly an arm's length made of a common hickory, gently curved following the clear grain. In the corner of the room was an effigy hanging from a hook. Jimmy started with a thrust to the chest, faked a couple parries of an invisible weapon, and continued with a horizontal cut, a few more twists and turns, and an overhead diagonal strike from the right then the left, which would have beheaded the effigy if it had had one.
The merchant was pleased that he actually had a customer who knew something about the craft. He picked up a bokken that was styled after the greatsword in the window. This bokken looked old and well-used, crafted from a rich ebony wood that Jimmy had only seen a few times as palace decor. The merchant stood in the center of the room looking at Jimmy and waited. If the merchant was strong enough to wield a real greatsword, Jimmy wasn't going to have a chance in friendly competition. But he needed a sword, so he would oblige the merchant as best he could.
The greatsword had a few advantages with it's double-long blade and powerful strike. But it had a few disadvantages as well. Once the sword was in motion, the momentum made it difficult to stop or change directions. When it was moving, though, it was fast, so he was going to have to be faster and more nimble than the merchant. They faced off, and the merchant made the first attack with a direct overhead strike towards the head, that Jimmy blocked easily by holding his sword longwise with both hands in front of his forehead. While he was considering the best attack, the merchant swung the sword in a reverse arc so it was now coming towards his knees. A normal jump wouldn't be high enough, and the greatsword was to strong to parry. Jimmy planted his blade and used it as a vault to get enough clearance over the attack. Plucking his own blade, he quickly made a sweep against the merchant's torso that struck. He swung the other way to chop the neck, but the merchant lifted the greatsword to block. Jimmy moved closer to the merchant, and swinging his weapon around his head, brought it down in a quick thrust to the merchant's chest. Jimmy and the merchant each took a step back and nodded to each other. The merchant motioned to return the bokken to their places. "An excellent play, sir. You chose well and are obviously comfortable with that style. I have exactly what you need, and I think you will be pleased. Give me a moment, if you will, to retrieve it."
Jimmy returned the front of the store and stared at the window display. What a fine piece of metal, he thought. A bit too much for me to handle, though. The merchant returned with the sword wrapped in a patterned red cloth. The metal was the same as the greatsword in the window, black as the midnight sky, but with a gentle sheen that let anyone looking at it know that it meant business. The scabbard was a simple crosspiece of standard steel, and the handle a polished resin, with blood red, forest green, and ebony swirled together. The style was identical to the bokken he had used, and the blade was finely etched, though Jimmy didn't recognize any of the patterns. The leather sheath came with a woven leather belt. Jimmy lifted the sword and made a few practice strokes. It felt solid in his hand, but not burdensome on the road. Jimmy strapped the belt around his waist and placed the sword in its sheath. It felt good to be wearing one again. "How much?"
The merchant wrote a figure on a pad and Jimmy nodded. He took out his purse and counted out what the merchant requested exactly. It was half what he had earned from the pirate fleet, but this was part of the life of a transient. And if he was dead, he would be able to spend it anyway. He thanked the merchant and left the store, keeping an eye in the glass for any sudden movement behind him. There was none, and Jimmy began to make his way back to Regus' house. It was raining lightly now, and he could hear the distant shouts coming from both celebrants and brawlers. Near one alley he passed, he heard the sound of clinking metal. A swordfight was already in progress, but Jimmy had no interest in putting his acquisition to the test so soon. He passed on, and saw a furry white hand with its claws out looking very angry at Abedah. Apparently the three he had left had decided to go to another eatery for some reason. A little concerned about what was transpiring, he went into the shop to join them.
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Every time something would happen to Hayder, Lox would try to escape and help him, and each time she would have to do everything she could to keep her back. Lox was very strong for a girl, but Pash was much stronger. What hurt the most was that Lox had given up trying to help Hayder and in that moment of surrender, Pash could have sworn she saw tears in her eyes as she scowled at her feet.
“You can’t, Lox, we talked about this. If you do you will die and Hayder doesn’t want that.”
“Leave me alone,” she said with a sob in her voice.
They sat in uncomfortable silence as a veritable menagerie of zoo animals pummeled each other under the low, sinister score of Acel’s voice. It had the chilling effect of someone talking right behind you, though he was nowhere near.
They listened as Hayder was being hacked to pieces, as he took blow after blow, as Acel wore him into the ground like a ragged shoe.
Lox noticed it first. It started with a trickle from Pash’s nose, then a steady stream of blood began to drip from her ears, down her neck, and into the collar of her dress. Lox pressed her hands to Pash’s forehead to discover that she was so hot, she could be on fire.
“It’s nothing,” Pash said, panting, not meeting her eyes. Sweat stood up all over her body. She shuddered to breathe.
“What’s happening to you?” Lox said momentarily forgetting how furious she was at her. It was no matter. Her condition was declining rapidly.
“Weak stomach I guess?” Pash attempted to laugh weakly. She coughed and got caught in the coughing to the point that she could not stop. Lox rubbed her back and stretched her legs out in front of her so that she could be more comfortable. She rubbed her back until she slowed down. Pash wiped her hands on her chest. Bloody fingerprints.
“Bullshit.” Lox pulled up Pash’s eyelids. Her gray-green eyes were glassy and completely dilated.
Pash swallowed. “Don’t do anything, just stay here, like Hayder said.”
Lox looked thoughtful for a moment. Pash could tell many things were running through her mind, options, predictions. “I’m going to lose both my friends,” Lox said grimly. “I can’t,” she said as the reality of this set in.
Pash’s eyes rolled back into her head, a white froth was curling from her lips.
“Acel is doing this to you,” Lox guessed. “If I were writing this, what would I do?”
Pash looked distant. Her fingers wrapped around Lox’s right wrist. Opened her palm.
“You do not know anyone except for me, no other characters have interacted with you, you claim to have no love interest. That could only mean… you would be written off,” Lox said quietly. “But no. It can’t be that. Why hasn’t Sway done this already? You’re very important. But why?”
Pash’s smooth olive skin had yellowed.
“Avenge me. Go underground and use your light,” Pash whispered. Her eyes closed and she was very still.
Lox’s hands were shaking. “I will come back for you.”
Pash was completely limp; her beautiful black hair covered her face.
Just as Lox stood up she saw something she thought she would never see. Angelus was lighting into Acel like there was no tomorrow. Lox had to give it to her, she was really powerful. The winged girl was completely and utterly fearless and dripping with sass. She unloaded at least a dozen arrows into the man and he stood there, being barraged with skin searing plasma. Maybe Lox had decided to enter the battle too late. It was probably over at this point. She had never seen anything go up against Angelus and survive uncharred. She saw Set hovering over Hayder to take the final blow. His second version was just as still and lifeless as Pash.
If both Hayder’s died at once, all would be lost. Her throat tightened at the thought.
She sprang up, running over the cobblestone to stop Set. But just then Acel emerged and sent Frey flying directly over her head. She ducked, tripped in her effort to dodge him and rolled behind an overturned box. Acel did not seem to notice her. Instead he picked Fenris up. He went Sebastian Shaw on Fenris and immediately transferred all the energy Angelus had dumped into him into her.
Fenris was completely immobilized. Shocking, because Lox had never seen her so still. She had doubted, up until this point, whether or not Fenris slept or if she, like a shark, only slowed down between meals.
“Got damn,” Lox whispered.
Arael was on the ground, disarmed, not moving. Wait. What was Arael doing here? And why did his wings look like wire?
She did not have time to process this. Acel had taken Angelus, the only real entity between Hayder and death but then, ironically part of the reason he was so close to it, and drained every bit of magic out of her. Lox could not believe her eyes. She would never have imagined the day would come that Fenris or Angelus would come to any harm. Lox had come to count on them. They lived with an invincibility star permanently equipped. It was then that she realized Hayder was completely right. If Acel could do all this, it would be no trouble for him to crack Lox and put her in his breakfast omelet.
“It’s just me then,” Lox said more to herself. Then her mind reeled at the reality of this. She should be saying, “I’m next in line to die.”
Fortunately, Acel was distracted, communicating wordlessly with an animatronic C-3PO.
What do you know about me?
I know everything you know about yourself, and more. Things you overlook. Things you do not understand. You wonder if you are human or machine. You do not understand your relationship with Regus, are you his partner or his pet.
And about Regus?
A talented sorcerer. But he has not been honest with you. Skratch, by your very nature you are illegal. You are simply too magical and because of that you are easily controlled by anyone who can use magic… especially Regus. Don’t you want to know what it is like to live? Not just to live from festival to festival, but to have a life everyday where you are normal and valued? To make your own choices instead of being ordered here or there? To be your own man? To be a man at all?
Who are you?
The person who can make that happen for you. Think about what I have said.
In this interval Lox had made it within six feet of Hayder. Set had finally noticed her.
“Who the hell are you?” Set shouted.
Hayder groaned, his world was tilted and he felt himself beginning to black out. It was then that he saw her face, determined and frightened. He could not let his father hurt her. He knew Acel would not hesitate. Hayder had a plan but he could not even think of it to himself.
Lox did not bother to answer. Instead she bolted for the Hayder’s splayed and bleeding body.
“Well if it isn’t the little Lox girl, or should I say, lost girl?” Acel crowed. “Didn’t I banish you to another realm?” Lox’s knees buckled. She could feel the man riffling through her thoughts, violating her in a way that she had never felt before. It was much worse than Angelus and she would have to apologize later for her complaints because she felt as if Acel was wringing the thoughts out of her mind. Steel fingers raking through ever bit of her. Her desires, attachments, worries, joys, and finally, her fears.
“You think you are going to come and save the bastard? You think that there’s something you can do? He told you to hide from me and he was absolutely right. I could peel you like an orange. Perhaps I will do… just… that.”
It was just at this moment that Hayder finally killed his dying self in the confusion and was able to regenerate another fully formed version. Set, realizing his idiotic mistake, finished off the mutilated Hayder and faced off against his cousin.
“Enough of this!” Acel said. He looked strange after peering through Lox’s mind. She would say startled, if she did not know any better. She tried to reach out and touch Hayder, but she couldn’t. A shield had come between them and he was encased in a white light that only got tighter around his body the more he struggled.
“We go,” Acel finished. He pushed past Lox, knocking her to the ground as if he had not even seen her.
A white light shown all around them and began enveloping people. First Hayder, then Arael, then others.
Just as soon as they had come they were gone.
“What the **** just happened,” Lox said waving her hands in the air where there were people seconds before. All, now, gone.
Fenris and Angelus were still there. They were having a touching moment. Lox was glad for them, but disappointed in herself. She had not done anything to help Hayder, and now he was probably worse off.
Just then she saw a few people standing in the alleyway. “Who are you?” she demanded.
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Cassandra felt her heart skip a beat as she heard Lox's fierce call. She had no idea that beside her a shadow on the wall had an almost identical reaction. She stood slowly, dusting off her clothes before walking slowly through the alley, forcing her arms into her pocket and glancing to the ground, trying to make herself seem smaller. It was as if she was shrinking into an invisible shell. "M...My name is Cass..." She choked on the word for a moment before looking up into Lox's fierce eyes and finding her voice, "Cassandra." She didn't know what to make of this strange woman, another of the combatants. She was clearly Zionese from her appearance, but her attitude and behavior did not fit in with what Cassandra had come to expect from the citizens of Zion. Then again, Acel had spoken to someone about being banished to another realm, so maybe this girl, like Hayder, had been forced from the land at a young age. Which mean that, like Cassandra herself, she had grown up a stranger in a strange land. "I'm...I'm sorry," She said quietly, still terrified by the fury that lurked behind this woman's eyes, "I'm an associate of the Guardian's, I needed her help with...." She hesitated, uncertain of how to explain her situation with Ramus to this stranger, or even of how much she should explain. "With a difficult task," She eventually said, deciding to remain vague, "Anyway, I never meant to get caught up in this, but I still need their help, so if you could help me, I need to get them to my home, they'll be safer there." She stood, waiting for Lox to reply, and after a moment of awkward silence she ran to Fenris' side, pulling a bottle of Iodine from her pocket and preparing to tend to the wounded Warrior's wounds as best she could. The eyes that greeted her filled her with more fear than Lox's. They blazed with a ferocity that Cassandra had never seen, and while she expected fierceness from the warrior, she was used to the look of controlled ferociousness that normally lurked behind those eyes. This look was entirely unlike that, this was pure, uncontrollable savagery. "We do not need your help, morsel," A cruel voice, complete unlike Fenris' said to Cassandra, "We simply need to rest." Cassandra bolted to her feet, and was almost ready to leave Fenris alone when a more comforting, familiar voice spoke from behind her. "Yeah, you really don't want to deal with Fen when she's like this," Angelus said, stumbling slightly as she attempted to find her balance, "It's...well, let's just say she's not in a very cooperative mood." Cassandra nodded awkwardly, confused by what had happened to the warrior but more focused on putting some distance between her and the fierce eyes that were staring at her with something that frighteningly resembled hunger. "Don't worry," Angelus said, "We'll need to get her to somewhere she can rest, but she'll be fine." Cassandra nodded, and was about to speak when she heard another familiar voice interrupt. "Um...yeah, guys, this is nice and all, but I'm kind of, y'know REALLY hurting right now," Called Frey. Cassandra smiled, amazed at how casual this whole group could be under the circumstances. They were an endearing and tough lot, she decided, and secretly she wished she could be more like them. She slipped to Frey's side and pressed a hand gently to his chest. He immediately let out a cry of pain. "Ow! Um..Ouch!," He shouted, "Yeah, Ow! that really, REALLY hurts." Cassandra smiled again, pulling her hand away. "Yup," She said to herself, "Just a broken rib, nothing to worry about." Frey stared at her dumbfounded. "Nothing to worry about," He said, "Yeah, it's just a broken rib, there's nothing bad about that." Cassandra laughed, surprised at how easy it was to take the situation lightly. "Don't worry about it," She said, "It's nothing I can't treat." She gave a faux-threatening look as she continued. "Though I warn you, the treatment's going to hurt like hell," She said. Frey threw up his hands, immediately regretting the action. "Hurts like hell pretty much describes my life right now!" He shouted angrily, "Honestly, I might as well change my name to Dread Pirate Hurts-like-hell." Cassandra laughed, leaning down and putting Frey's arm around her shoulder so she could help him to his feet. "I don't think that'd work," She said, turning to him, "I mean, it's not very threatening." He glared at her. "You think of better than," He said. "Dread Pirate Wesley?" She offered. He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah, good one," She said, "Who ever heard of a Dread Pirate Wesley?" As they continued to debate what made a good pirate name Angelus walked awkwardly over to Lox, still trying to find her balance. "To answer your question," She said, her voice weaker than normal, "We just got our asses kicked, that pompous bastard Acel just stripped me of my powers, and then he took your boyfriend and a few other people and vanished." The angel smiled as she looked into Lox's eyes, still able to read her thoughts just based on her body language. She was thinking roughly the same thing as Angelus. Acel needs to die. She smiled, extending a hand to her old foe. "So, since we both have a reason to want the old bastard dead," She said, her voice surprisingly cheery, "What do you say we bury the hatchet and become friends based on mutual hate?"
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This Cassandra looked terrified. Probably because of Acel, but Lox wondered if she wasn’t scared of her too. Of course, she was on guard. People were getting kidnapped, chopped up, power drained, and mind raped. There was a lot to worry about. Lox wished she knew how to call out her sword, but she couldn’t ever seem to do it, and now was a time just like any other.
"M...My name is Cass..." She choked on the word for a moment before looking up into Lox's fierce eyes and finding her voice, "Cassandra."
Lox felt her sizing her up.
She did the same. Cassandra was mousey and a bit meek. Strange in a land full of fierce women. She was living in Zion but she was clearly not Zionese. Opposites. Lox was not living in Zion but she was Zionese, however, Cassandra was probably more Zionese than she could ever be. She was holding something in her hands. Bottles. What Lox would do for a stiff drink.
"I'm...I'm sorry," she said frightened of her, "I'm an associate of the Guardian's, I needed her help with...."
There was a long silence. Lox raised her eyebrow waiting.
"With a difficult task," she choked out, explaining and not explaining. "Anyway, I never meant to get caught up in this, but I still need their help, so if you could help me, I need to get them to my home, they'll be safer there."
They. Fenris and Angelus. Right. No way Lox could be useful. Don’t be negative, she told herself, if she’s scared of you then she must be facing some long odds. Maybe you could do something. That would be making up for doing nothing when you were truly needed.
She must have thought on this too long. Cassandra ran to Fenris’ side and began reviving her with iodine. Funny, Lox was allergic to iodine and shell fish—or at least she used to be.
Lox followed Cassandra over to Fenris. The woman looked positively possessed. Her hands were glowing faintly and she stuck them in her pockets.
"We do not need your help, morsel," Fenris hissed, "We simply need to rest."
“Wow.” Lox said. “Plural. I think I’ll let you handle this one,” she said stepping back. If there was anything she was truly afraid of, it was going to jail and even the mere idea of demons.
"Yeah, you really don't want to deal with Fen when she's like this," Angelus explained to Cassandra, "It's...well, let's just say she's not in a very cooperative mood."
No need to explain. Really. Lox thought.
Frey on the other hand was not so lucky. It was pretty obvious he wasn’t going to get better with time and a good attitude. He had broken a rib, which seemed to Lox to be a very serious injury. She felt, again, really stupid for having absolutely no war wounds to show for her “battle” with Acel.
Cassandra seemed to be delighted with the shenanigans of their little troop and tried to put Humpty Roberts back together again.
"Ow! Um..Ouch!" He protested. "Yeah, Ow! that really, REALLY hurts."
Lox laughed. It wasn’t on purpose, but it was just that she hadn’t laughed in a while and Frey’s accent was already hilarious to her coupled with the fact that the man was constantly in pain, an awkward situation, or giving Fenris a helpless puppy dog stare. All three phases of Frey were equally hilarious and with his complete willingness to own each agony, it would be rude not to laugh.
“I’m sorry,” Lox giggled, covertly brushing tears out of her eyes. “That’s totally wrong. You’re hurt. This is serious.” She cracked up again.
"Yup," Cassandra said to herself, "Just a broken rib, nothing to worry about."
Frey’s face was the size of his fist. "Nothing to worry about," he deadpanned. "Yeah, it's just a broken rib, there's nothing bad about that."
Cassandra laughed, surprised at how easy it was to take the situation lightly.
"Don't worry about it," She said, "It's nothing I can't treat.” She was confident and gave him a challenging look. "Though I warn you, the treatment's going to hurt like hell," She said. Watch out, Fenris. Lox thought. Pash 2.0 had arrived.
That reminded Lox. She had agreed to avenge Pash. She remembered very clearly what she had to do. Go underground and use your light. What did that mean?
Lox had wandered away a few paces, thinking. But her mind was jumbled, she was still trying to put a barrier between her and anyone who could read her mind, forgetting that there was no one close by to do so. That was when she heard Angelus to her side. She paused and looked at her.
"To answer your question," she said a little crestfallen, "We just got our asses kicked, that pompous bastard Acel just stripped me of my powers, and then he took your boyfriend and a few other people and vanished."
Lox grinned inwardly. Angelus always seemed to take Lox’s “What the **** is this’s” literally. She had just seen all of those things happen, but she had come to expect this from her now. Summing things up was kind of Angelus’ thing.
She had not realized, though, that Acel had taken all of her powers. Lox could not even fathom what all of Angelus’ powers would even look like.
Whatever the case, they seemed to be on the same page.
She was surprised to see Angelus extend her hand to her.
"So, since we both have a reason to want the old bastard dead," She said, her voice surprisingly cheery, "What do you say we bury the hatchet and become friends based on mutual hate?"
Lox was quiet for a moment, thinking.
“Or love. Acel has taken what we both love.” She had never, until this moment, admitted to herself that she loved Hayder. And she realized very suddenly that what she had said was true. Angelus loved Fenris and Acel had made it impossible for her to protect her. The same was true for her and Hayder. She smiled miserably. She seemed to be about to shake Angelus’ hand, but she hugged her, very briefly, instead.
“We will kill him. There is no doubt about that,” she said evenly. The stars were bright tonight and she scanned them, as if she could find Hayder in them. “But for hate? That's ironic.”
“The funny thing about love and hate is that they are not moral things. It is not morally good to love because love can drive you to do things, even evil things, if it gets out of your control. People go to war for love.
“Hate, on the other hand, is transient. It can’t fuel you; you can’t rely on it because it cannot be trusted. But hate is not truly evil because hating something can protect you from it and keep you from harm, but it will also not permit you to understand it.
“We don’t talk much, you and I, but I have noted something. Our hatred for each other has only made us weaker and has offered us no protection. But most of my feelings for you are not hatred.
“I want you to know that I do not hate you, Angelus. I have distrusted you and I have disrespected you. I am sorry for that. But my reactions were not from hate, but from fear. I have to admit that I have always been afraid of you. Afraid of what you would see in me. And sure, that you, well really no one, would approve of the real me. I think a lot. Awful things mostly. You know. I like my privacy. I was afraid of what you would think and that you would tell.
Lox shook her head. “Foolishness. For all my objections, you still had access to what I was thinking, but I do not believe you really know me, except that you knew you should hate me.
“You see, it is mutual hate that has prevented us from being friends. So it is ironic. We have been brought together by love… and whatever it is that I can do to help, I will.”
posted
"No problem," Angelus said, still reeling in shock from receiving a hug from someone who had, quite recently, been her most bitter rival, "I've heard far worse." She smiled back at Lox, surprised at how fantastic she felt now that she didn't despise the girl. She really was a good person, even if she didn't believe so herself. "You're right, by the way," The angel said, "I never did know you. You have to let me know you for that to work, even with my powers. Not that I made it any easier on you,of course." As she spoke she unfurled her wings, checking them tentatively. By all appearances they should still work, but she wasn't sure how much damage Acel had actually done. Eventually, with a few gentle flaps, she lifted a few inches from the ground. Her heart rose with her form, and she was relieved that, if nothing else she still had the freedom of the air. "Although I really don't see why you thought I wouldn't like the real you. Nobody's perfect underneath it all. We all think awful things far too often. When you hear everyone's thoughts you come to know that all too well." The angel wanted to make some sort of gesture of friendship,but none came to mind, but before she could manage that Cassandra interrupted. "This is nice and all," She said as she continued to guide Frey away from the battle, "But we've got two injured people here, so we should really get them to my house so we can treat them." The girl turned to look at Lox, her fear seeming to have subsided. "You're welcome to stay with me as long as you're in Zion, Ms.Lox," She said politely, "Though I warn you, there isn't much space. I'm not used to having to live with others." Angelus smiled at the offer, turning to her new friend. "Things are looking up already," She said, flying over to Fenris and helping to the warrior to her feet. As the warrior stumbled to her feet Angelus turned back to Lox. "By the way," She said, "Meet Fenris' other tenant. He doesn't have an official name being a hive-mind of eldritch evil and all, but I call him Mr.Wolf." The not-Fenris turned to the angel, glaring. "Watch your tongue, little angel," It said, "We deserve respect. We are older than the oldest mountain of your realm, and we will still be when all returns to the dark from which it emerged." "Whatever you say," The angel said, "Just remember who's helping you stay upright at the moment."
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She smiled at her. She felt a little embarrassed for being on speaking terms with Angelus and not doing this sooner.
"You're right, by the way," she said, "I never did know you. You have to let me know you for that to work, even with my powers. Not that I made it any easier on you, of course."
Of course, Lox thought. Her aversion to said powers and Angelus’ lack of control over them was one of the main reasons they could never get along.
Angelus found that she could still, at least, fly. Lox noted that see seemed relieved by this. As if she half-expected to be unable to do so. Acel had not taken everything from her after all. She was probably relieved to learn that.
"Although I really don't see why you thought I wouldn't like the real you.”
Lox laughed. She thought about how Angelus had made it pretty clear that she couldn’t stand her.
“Nobody's perfect underneath it all. We all think awful things far too often.”
Lox raised her eyebrow. “Hmm.” She had thought this many times: why was Angelus so focused on her most negative thoughts when everyone had negative thoughts? Lox had become convinced that she was the only person who thought that way or Angelus would have reported everyone’s antagonistic whims. It wasn’t just her thoughts, then. It was personal. And Angelus had admitted that she did not truly know Lox personally. With time, hopefully, things would change.
“When you hear everyone's thoughts you come to know that all too well."
Lox was about to say something, but Cassandra interrupted. Probably for the best, Lox could never figure out the right thing to say to Angelus, anyway.
"This is nice and all," she said herding them with the focus of a Border Collie, "But we've got two injured people here, so we should really get them to my house so we can treat them."
“Agreed,” Lox said.
Cassandra replied to Lox, without the fear present earlier, "You're welcome to stay with me as long as you're in Zion, Ms. Lox."
Lox stifled a grin. Why was everyone always calling her that? Was she an old dowager living in a cottage at the end of the earth? Whatever the case, it was kind of funny.
"Though I warn you, there isn't much space. I'm not used to having to live with others."
“A wounded pirate, a Guardian, a possessed Terra Dian, and a cynical motor mouth. You’re in for a treat.”
Angelus grinned. "Things are looking up already.” She helped Fenris up. "By the way," she said, "Meet Fenris' other tenant. He doesn't have an official name being a hive-mind of eldritch evil and all, but I call him Mr. Wolf."
“Hive mind?” Lox said slowly. She looked at Fenris and tried not to recoil. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, spiders, lizards, snakes, frogs, beasts, ghosts, zombies, aliens, witches, or burglars but Fenris was setting off a million alarms. Because she was afraid of crazed children, possessed people, and especially anything demonic. She tried to remember that it wasn’t a demon, it was a wolf spirit of some sort. She took a slow, cleansing breath, and held on to her cool with both hands. She didn’t want to offend Angelus or Fenris, since they were supposed to be getting along now. She was just combating something that made her skin crawl at the most inconvenient of times.
"Watch your tongue, little angel," something inside of Fenris hissed. The voice was like broken glass, airy and sharp. "We deserve respect. We are older than the oldest mountain of your realm, and we will still be when all returns to the dark from which it emerged."
"Whatever you say," Angelus said casually, "Just remember who's helping you stay upright at the moment."
Lox quickly ran over to where she and Pash had been to help her. But Pash was gone. There was nothing left of her except her bag and a trail of spotted blood. She had been taken, along with Hayder when Acel had left with his entourage.
Lox frowned and picked up her bag. It wiggled. Inside was Anubis. She pulled him out of the bag and realized that he had been very expertly tied up. “Wow. Pash put you out of the battle, too,” she said a little shocked. She untied Nubie and he shook himself off, indignantly, sniffing the trail of blood that Pash left. He went around in a circle, unable to find a way to track her.
“You can’t find her, Nubie. She’s gone.”
His ears and tail both tucked. “I know. I’m sorry, too.”
She picked up the little dog and took him and her bag back to the group. Frey was moving on wobbly legs and she elected to give him a hand. “You took quite a hit there, Frey,” she said remembering playing dodge ball with his flying body. “But with Cassandra and some bandages, I think you’ll be fine. But between us, I think Fenris needs that and an old priest and a young priest.”
Meanwhile, Anubis transformed into his enormous jackal form. His silver-blue fur caught the moonlight and before Angelus could dodge, he nestled his head into her side, happy to see her. His tail wagged and he nearly knocked her over accidentally with a torrent of kisses. Quickly he scooped his massive head under Fenris and rested her on his back. He walked jauntily beside Angelus, carrying her companion.
But something was different about Fenris. Nubie had found a kindred spirit in Fenris now. The hive mind had manifested itself and because it, too, was like a wolf and trapped in another form, Anubis could communicate with it.
<What is your mission here, it? Fenris is a friend of mine and very powerful. You would do well to leave her before she returns and ends you herself.>
They walked along, the six or seven of them, mostly without incident, and followed Cassandra until they reached her home. It was a nice place, as far as Lox could tell. She lived alone in the city so Cassandra must be pretty well off. Lox scanned for followers, but she could not see anyone trailing them.
posted
The wolf was not used to being spoken to by anyone but Fenris, and so the intrusion into the hive-mind surprised it. It almost wanted to laugh, sensing no fear in the voice that spoke to it. These were the kinds of souls that it had adored hunting before, the type that truly believed their own strength could overwhelm evil in it's rawest form. It was always delicious to taste their bravery turn into despair in their dying throes. Of course, it hadn't had the chance to hunt in what felt like centuries now. <Our mission?> The wolf spoke into the mind of the intruder, it's voice taunting, <Our mission is to be free. We are freedom and life, as well as death. We are chaos.We are eternal.> It was always how the wolf had viewed itself, and how it had been viewed by both the vermin of the Earth and the foolish doe that had always stood in it's path. It was chaos incarnate, and it was part of the eternal struggle in Terra Di. And, the wolf realized, it was exactly what Terra Di needed right now. <This Fenris is very powerful> It said, continuing to speak to Nubie, <But she cannot destroy us. She is part of us as much as we are part of her. We are one, and when the time is right she will become part of our pack. But you need not worry for now. We need her, and she needs us. We cannot afford to lose her now.> There was a bitterness in the wolf now. It did not like relying on anyone, especially a mortal. But this Fenris was strong, strong enough to resist the call of the pack. Under other circumstances her strength would be frightening. But right now, strength was what the Wolf needed her to have. *** Cassandra was surprised to feel her heart soar as she saw the familiar house. For once it actually felt like a home, rather than just a place to rest, and for once Cassandra felt that she actually belonged there. This night had been a stern reminder of how much she stood out in the land of Terra Di, and her house, which stood out quite a bit on it's own, seemed to be the appropriate place for her. It was a small house, at least in comparison to the towering buildings that surrounded it. It stood back from the street, with a winding path leading to it's front door, and while many would hate the unnecessary extra space, Cassandra had taken advantage of it, growing a garden in the space that between her home and the street. Of course, given her preoccupation with stopping Ramus, that garden had now become overgrown, and her lawn looked more like a jungle than a garden. Still, it was easy enough to cut her way through it and to the front door. As she reached it she held up a finger, silently telling the others to wait, as she entered to fill the house with light. As the others watched slowly but surely the house filled with light. Cassandra then returned, and helped Lox bring Frey inside. The home was mostly bare, as Cassandra neither valued nor needed much furniture. There were only a few chairs in both her living and dining rooms, and her main living space was mostly occupied by several massive bookshelves, fully stocked with volumes on multiple subjects. Angelus quickly observed that the majority of the volumes focused on the science of alchemy, though a handful concerned Zionese mythology, and a neglected stack on one table were about, curiously, gardening. Eventually Cassandra led them upstairs to the two small rooms that she normally occupied, laying Frey down on a cot in her library. Fenris proceeded to sit Fenris in a large, well padded chair. The wolf glared at her for a moment, looking suspiciously around the room, before slowly closing it's eyes, folding it's arms, and attempting to sleep. "Well, that went swimmingly," Angelus said, returning to her normal sarcastic demeanor, "Obviously we're going to have to level-grind before we try fighting HIM again." Cassandra nodded, but there was something that had been troubling her on the walk over. The memory of what she was supposed to be doing right now. She had only entered the festival to stop her old friend from the wicked deed he was attempting. Now she was behind schedule, and her very well could have completed it already. "Angelus," She said, looking up at the angel, "I know now is not the best time, but you promised me that you would help me stop Ramus, and despite the setbacks we have faced we really should turn our focus to that task. Time is working against us. If we don't act fast Ramus will raise Gadriel and all will be lost." Angelus looked to the floor, sinking slightly as she did. "I know that," She said, "But we need time. Right now we're in no shape to fight, and as Acel just proved we can't just charge in to battle and expect to win. We need a plan." As she spoke she pulled one of the small glass-like balls that Abedah had given her from her pocket, watching as several faint-white whisps swirled around it. It was weak, Angelus knew, but it seemed she hadn't completely lost her ability to manipulate plasma either. "Tell you what," She said, "Lox and I will gather some new allies and we'll get to work stopping your friend. Everything's not lost yet." She motioned to Lox, who she was certain was completely lost. "Before then, you should probably brief Lox on the situation," She said. The sound of Frey's growling stomach filled the room. The angel smiled,seeing a chance to avoid hearing Cassandra's story again. "In the meantime, I'll prepare some food," She said, turning and drifting into the hallway. Cassandra sighed, looking at Lox and taking a deep breath. "It all started when Zion was a..." She started, but Angelus' voice interrupted. "And please," She called from the hall, "Use the abridged version." *** Hitomi smiled from the street as she leaned against a fence-post, watching as Cassandra led her wounded team away. She would have to send Acel a basket of flowers or something. He'd just made everything significantly easier. <Master> She said, tapping into her psychic connection with Ramus, <Everything's been taken care of.> <I Know> He said. Hitomi felt a shiver spread over her as she wondered how he had already obtained this information. <Anyway, do I really need to keep watching the alchemist?> She asked. There was a silence in her mind that made Hitomi uncomfortable, but then the answer that she'd been waiting for came. <No> He said, <I have a much more important task for you.> She smiled then, pulling herself from the fence post and disappearing into the night. She looked back at the house only once, hoping that she would never have to see the unfortunate alchemist again.
posted
“Well, that went swimmingly," Angelus said trenchantly, "Obviously we're going to have to level-grind before we try fighting HIM again."
Lox had to agree, thinking on her Final Fantasy days. They had tried to take the big boss with half HP and no Phoenix Downs. As a result of their ignorance, they had just heard the sweet, sweet, lullaby of the Game Over screen. Then needed to spend some time roving the mountains defeating shambling ghosts and dire wolves if they wanted to be better equipped next time.
Cassandra’s home was clean and sparse. This was clearly a furniture optional affair.
There was, however, a fifty to one ratio of books per humans.
Frey stretched out in a cot and Fenris nestled in a down chair. Lox wasn’t sure what to do. She stood in the doorway for a moment, admiring all the books. Without asking, she began to quietly leaf through the tomes, deciding it best to say as little as possible. She went into Stealth Mode when she wanted to make sure she did not say anything that would cause any further damage. Her mouth had gotten her into a lot of trouble. Of all the people in the group she was the odd man out. She had never met Frey before, had just recently patched things up with Angelus, Fenris was currently possessed and therefore indisposed, and she had never seen Cassandra a day in her life. The only person she knew was Anubis. He was a dog that was loved by all.
The awkward turtle had reared its ugly head.
"Angelus," Cassandra said, "I know now is not the best time, but you promised me that you would help me stop Ramus, and despite the setbacks we have faced we really should turn our focus to that task. Time is working against us. If we don't act fast Ramus will raise Gadriel and all will be lost."
Lox was pretty lost.
Angelus sagged like a failing kite. "I know that," she said. "But we need time. Right now we're in no shape to fight, and as Acel just proved we can't just charge in to battle and expect to win. We need a plan."
Angelus was playing with a small ball that looked like it was smoking. Maybe she hadn’t lost her powers, after all.
"Tell you what," she said, "Lox and I will gather some new allies and we'll get to work stopping your friend. Everything's not lost yet."
But Lox only wanted to save Hayder. Why should she help this other guy?
"Before then, you should probably brief Lox on the situation," she said.
Lox closed the book she was reading and looked up at Cassandra. There as an awkward stretch of a few seconds where it was so quiet you could have heard a rat piss on cotton.
Frey’s stomach emitted a carnal snarl, breaking the spell. Lox realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she had had an aerobic workout with Hayder, ran through the streets of Zion, wrestled with Pash multiple times, and engaged in a life-ending battle since that time.
"In the meantime, I'll prepare some food.” Angelus drifted off in the direction of the kitchen. Lox was ambivalent. Could a person who did not need to eat cook?
Cassandra sighed, looking at Lox and taking a deep breath.
"It all started when Zion was a..."
"And please," Angelus called from the hall, "Use the abridged version."
Which Cassandra did not do at all. She was like The Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from the Future “THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO—“ In fact, Cassandra educated Lox on every aspect of Zionese culture as it pertained to her story. There was apparently drama between Cassandra, who was adopted and loved alchemy and her best friend Ramus, who like most characters, had daddy issues and was magical.
Lox figured if they just hooked up, most of their problems with each other would be resolved, but she kept that to herself. Cassandra was very logical. Every other word out of her mouth was “reason” or “philosophy” or “ideals” and between mourning her father’s death and trying to fit in in Zion as someone so clearly not Zionese, she probably had never worried herself about romance. Lox listened actively, asking questions kindly, but never giving her real opinion on the situation. For one she had not been asked, for two, it seemed people in Limbo were very sensitive when being asked questions about romance. Not that Lox had a PhD in relationships, but she knew how she would approach the situation.
Talking Ramus down would be as simple as getting him to fall in love with her if he wasn’t already. She could play on his emotional feelings for her, and that would work better than a harangue about reason. The facts were the facts. Men controlled the world, but women controlled men. If Cassandra wanted a stake is his revolution, she need only let him woo her. Then she would very easily be in control of it completely. Cassandra was beautiful, and clearly more intelligent than Ramus. She could have whatever she wanted.
Lox figured what she wanted was to do her own way.
“Interesting,” Lox said she had a book of symbols in her lap and she was leafing through it, comparing the marks on her arms to the ones in the book. She had rolled back her sleeves completely, revealing a multitude of expertly crafted and colorful tattoos. “You have to stop Ramus from bringing about the raise of magic because you believe it will destroy Zion.” She turned to page, finding nothing similar on it. “But how can you be sure? I think the magic in Zion is beautiful. I think Zion is magic.” She found something that looked like a list of lamp symbols and very carefully compared them to the one on the back of her hand. “This Gadriel seems like a BAMF, though. You might try to convince Ramus not to revive her, rather than trying to get him to abandon his campaign all together. If Gadriel is more powerful than he is, why would she listen to him or anyone?
“The first rule of magic is never to try to attempt something you can’t reverse. He can’t control Gadriel.” Lox knew this full well because she had seen a Guardian in action, and there was no controlling Angelus. Let alone an evil Angelus. “You don’t have to worry about the rise of magic. You have to worry about Gadriel destroying your friend.”
Actually the wizard’s first rule was: People are stupid. And Ramus was proof positive of that. But she did not want to insult her host.
Her eyes followed the line down the book to a symbol that was exactly like the one of her hand. There was a word written beside it in Zionese’s Hindi-esqu curling script.
“That’s my lamp,” she said. Beside it was a statement. She read the entry aloud.
quote:The Symbol of The Hallowed Lamp of the Pharos. This powerful beacon was capable of drawing ships, people, animals, or anything seeking guidance to it. It could be seen from any point in Illusionia, and was as bright as any star. The lamp of Pharos can reveal all things to the seeker, but to look directly into the lamp would mean death.
“Wow.” Lox said. “That’s really deep.” She continued reading.
quote:The Pharos no longer exists, regrettably. The secrets of the Pharos brought great prosperity to people. There was a generation of peace. New building techniques, mathematics, science, magical endeavors, and ways to love our brothers were learned from it. Harvests were sevenfold and no man knew war or hunger. Yet the relic had a darker side. Handed, though it was holy, by so many men, a species that is so easily corrupted by arrogance, it was weaponized. After being used in a great battle to kill droves of innocents, the gods of Illusionia were appalled at the slaughter and intervened. The Pharos was destroyed by supernatural forces, scattered to the winds. The gods knew that man who carried the light would be incapable of using its knowledge for good. Therefore, the light of the Pharos represents mankind’s quest and thirst for learning, but also is a testament to the greed and evilness of men.
Lox closed the book and was very still.
“I wonder if dinner’s ready.”
(Edit: Apologies to Ramus. This was all the way ****ed up.)
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"Seems like I got here just in time," Angelus said, walking through the door with a tray with several plates on it. She looked less like a guardian in that moment than a struggling waitress, and the simple, undignified contrast of the image with Angelus' normal front was enough to make the part of Fenris that was still conscious laugh. The wolf responded by letting out a slight growl. Angelus turned to it, blinking a couple times, and then the wolf gave a disinterested shrug and went back to attempting to sleep. Angelus simply stared in confusion for a moment before lowering the tray and beginning to hand out plates. "Sorry," She said, handing one plate of eggs and bacon to Lox "The only thing I ever learned how to make was breakfast food." Mainly because the only time the idea of eating appealed to her was after waking up from stasis, when anything that sounded like it could help her gain energy sounded good. "So," She said, "I assume that Cassandra has just finished boring you to death with her extremely long story, and now you know the gist of the situation. Basically, we have to stop a morally questionable wizard from reviving a corrupted guardian and probably accidentally killing everyone." She shrugged, as if she had just described the plan for a Sunday picnic. "Y'know, the usual," She said, fully aware that this would earn her several surprised looks. For some reason sarcasm was a foreign concept outside of Limbo, at least to people like Frey and Cassandra. In truth Angelus' normal confident front was, for once, just that, a front. She was actually terrified of taking part in any combat right now, because she wasn't entirely sure what she was even still capable of, if anything. She didn't have a weapon, she'd built up a habit of incorporating teleportation directly into her very combat style, and she wasn't particularly strong, so going hand to hand with anyone was a terrible idea. Still, she had made a promise, and more importantly she knew what would happen if Gadriel was freed, and she couldn't allow that to happen. "Anyway, I was thinking if we focused on stopping these guys first it might help us figure out how to stop Acel," She continued, "Y'know, like how sometimes focusing on another project as a writer helps you figure out something in another one that's giving you trouble." She hoped that the comparison made sense, but she wasn't entirely sure. Obviously there was a difference between calmly writing a story and fighting an absurdly powerful wizard, after all. "Anyway," She said, continuing, "I think if we gathered up the rest of the old team, Kyle, Najm, Arem, Dougie, Abedah,etc., we'd stand a pretty good chance even with everyone else out of commission." She smiled, falling back on her heels again and lightly extending her wings to catch herself. "What do you think?" As they talked Cassandra leaned against one of the bookshelves, thinking over what Lox had said. Maybe she was right, and the return of magic to the city wasn't such a bad thing. The though sickened Cassandra, but she knew this was only because of her own disapproval of magic. Maybe, really, the only way for Zion to succeed was the let magic coexist with science, and maybe magic was inseparably tied to Zion itself. These questions bothered her, but she drove them form her mind. She knew that she would have to face them later. ((OOC:Terrible post, sorry, currently having an argument with someone))
Angelus came in like a server at Chili's who had gone the whole day without tips. She put the trays of plates down and started dishing out food.
"Sorry," She said, handing one plate of eggs and bacon to Lox, "The only thing I ever learned how to make was breakfast food."
Lox wasn't a picky eater and her stomach was currently fighting the inside of her spine. This was a no-brainer.
She took her slabs of bacon and two pieces of toast, wed them with her eggs and made the ultimate breakfast-for-dinner sandwich.
"So," She said, "I assume that Cassandra has just finished boring you to death with her extremely long story, and now you know the gist of the situation. Basically, we have to stop a morally questionable wizard from reviving a corrupted guardian and probably accidentally killing everyone." She paused. "You know, the usual."
She said everything so calmly. Lox wondered if Angelus ever worried about anything.
When no one was looking in her direction, she snuck an extra piece of bacon as her sandwich had been obliterated before Fenris had even started eating.
"Anyway, I was thinking if we focused on stopping these guys first it might help us figure out how to stop Acel," she continued, "Y'know, like how sometimes focusing on another project as a writer helps you figure out something in another one that's giving you trouble."
"Yeah," Lox said coming up for air. "You're stuck on a story or a character and you take a break and writer something else. When I'm stuck I listen to music and then ideas come to me while I day dream. Separating yourself from your subject can help you approach it better."
She had her eye on another piece of toast.
"Anyway," Angelus went on, "I think if we gathered up the rest of the old team, Kyle, Najm, Arem, Dougie, Abedah, etcetera, we'd stand a pretty good chance even with everyone else out of commission. What do you think?"
Lox was kind of surprised anyone was asking her for her opinion. "I think anyone that is added to our roster would be a help. It's a matter of getting them all together. Sometimes getting characters, uh people, in big groups is hard, especially if they're in the middle of something. We'll have to go find them individually, or use the connects that Cassandra knows and build our army that way. But if we're going to recruit members I call Kyle. He'd be the biggest help. There isn't a fight that I've seen him lose."
Acel's mansion was immaculate. It was full of only the finest things and its price was without measure.
He drug back his hoard of wounded and maimed.
There was Hayder, Set, Arael, and a few other motley creatures including a scruffy Arjunan woman that did not seem to know her own name.
He immediately threw all but Arael into a holding cell and put Set on guard duty, which was pointless because the idiotic boy fell asleep almost immediately. Though Set was fit and devastatingly beautiful, he was more accustomed to the life of a senator than that of a soldier.
"Arael, you are a Sentinel fallen from grace." Acel began. Men and women in white robes darted in and out of the chambers, half cowering in fear, half sprinting in earnest haste. Very quickly they had laid a small feast out before the Sentinel and his host. The servants had taken care to provide Arael with new clothing and a bowl to wash his hands and face in.
Acel did not seem to notice the servants scuttling around to anticipate his every move like so many fearful ants. His only focus was Arael. "But your return to glory is still possible. Your wings have been mutilated and I am sure they were once a measure of your personal pride. I can heal you, Arael. I can restore you to the man that you once were. I can take what was stolen from you. The only thing I ask in return is very simple. You must help me restore order in Zion. All that I ask is that you detain a single person for me." Acel showed Arael a picture of a brave and handsome young wizard. "His name is Ramus."
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Angelus was somewhat relieved to hear that Lox had wanted to find Kyle, because in her heart she still wanted to patch things up with the others. She hadn't failed Kyle, but she had failed everyone else that had been captured, and she was only just now starting to fix things. The more work she could do towards making things up to the people the hurt, the better. "Sounds great," The little angel said, "Personally I'm going to try to find Najm. I kind of have to apologize to her for being a colossal screw-up anyway." She left out the part where she also had to do this for Dougie, Arem, and Abedah, but she was pretty sure that Lox was all to aware of that necessity. She flitted to the door, and was about to leave when Cassandra stopped her. "Um,what should I do?" She asked, seeming desperate to do anything. Angelus was puzzled, she thought that Cassandra had already found her role, but apparently she'd been mistaken. "Treat the wounded," Angelus said, "We're going to need them for this fight too, especially if Gadriel DOES end up making an appearance." Cassandra nodded, glancing nervously at Fenris. The little angel gave a light laugh. She wondered whether the girl was afraid of Fenris more than the evil guardian that threatened to come back into existence on this night. Then she drifted to the hall, and after one last glance at her new-found friends, descended the stairs and stepped into the glow of the Zionese night. *** Ramus had never felt so foolish. He sulked onto a bench in the center of the city, unable to believe that his impulsiveness had gotten the best of him again. Here it was, the most important night of his life, and he had already made a critical mistake. He had thought so hard about what he was going to do once he got inside the catacombs that he had forgotten what was needed to get there first. But now was not the time to dwell on his failure, or to let his facade as leader of the Order of Shada fail. It was time to make his grandfather proud, and the first step to doing that was keeping his team in line. With that in mind, he leaned back on the bench, and cast the spell. In an instant he could see through five other sets of eyes, switching between them at will, and he could hear five minds. His mind strained to keep track of it all, and he knew that were it not for his years of training he would have gone mad from the sheer excess of information he was receiving. Even then, keeping track of the mind that was 'him' was challenging. He wondered how the guardians could bare to have so many thoughts in their own minds. There was one mind that was giving him more trouble than the others. It didn't think like his mind. Words did not fill it's thoughts, only ideas. Pictures, motions, whisps of thought. He knew which mind it was, and a brief glance into the eyes of the subject comforted him. They were doing their job just fine. He needed them to work faster, however. Still, there were other minds to focus on.He found another, blazing with energy, thought, and confidence, but also frustration. He knew it at once, and knew that she would not happy to hear him intrude. <Jeanette> He thought into the mind, <Are we any closer?> The mind seemed incredulous, and utterly annoyed. <Closer?> She thought back <Closer? I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be looking for, how would I know if I'm closer?> Anger filled him. Now was not the time for complaints, now was the time for actions. <I do not have time for this> He thought, <I need you to figure this out.> He could almost feel her eyes rolling. <Whatever, Boss> She thought back, <Just sayin', your gramps left some really weird clues.> <He was a great man, his talents far exceeded your own, and his wisdom was more vast than the skies above,> He thought back, his anger cool, but present, <Remember your place, young flame.> He could sense her desire to retort, but knowing his attention was fading, as was his patience, she held back. He turned then to the last mind he could manage in this sitting, and saw that she at least seemed to have some idea of what she was doing. <Have you found anything yet, my most faithful student?> He thought. He could feel her pride. He knew she had earned it. She had accomplished all of her tasks flawlessly so far, and he would need her to keep up the good work as the night went on. <No,> She thought that, disappointment present in her thoughts, but also excitement, <But I know where to look.> He said nothing, he simply let his confusion find her mind. She seemed chilled by the experience of sharing his emotions. <I'm going to take a page out of your old friend's book> Hitomi thought back, <Maybe I can learn a thing or two from her after all.>
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The night was late, but still there was light enough to see by. The sky was no longer on fire, and the zealots had calmed as the hour grew late, settling in to enjoy what remained of their night. Even with the lateness of the hour the city streets were still full of children, allowed up on this special night to celebrate and to watch the spectacle around them. Those who had seen Regus’ show, or who had already known him, followed the couple down the street, pulling at his coattails and pleading for another go ‘round. Regus willingly obliged, letting sparks fly from his hands, tracing ribbons of light through the air from his fingertips, eliciting the awe of the small children.
“You should give it a try.” He suggested to Abedah.
They entertained for awhile longer until eventually the group of children dissolved back into the crowd, the calls of parents and friends beckoning.
Eventually, the cobblestones led them to a road that smelled of freshly baked bread and stew fresh from the pot. Regus led Abedah and Pounce down the way, and steered them into a well lit eatery. It wasn’t as crowded as some of the other larger establishments in Zion, nor was it empty. Several customers still filled tables and seats at the bar, enjoying the last bits of magical cuisine that were left for the night.
Regus sat at a secluded table and motioned for Pounce and Abedah to follow. He placed his hand on the arm of his chair and pushed himself back, and another chair at the table mirrored his gesture. Regus wasn’t used to the freedom the night of the Festival allowed him. Any opportunity to whet his lips, so to speak was taken with relish. Besides, it was polite.
He signaled for the barkeep, who also happened to be the waiter at the establishment. He was a kindly old man, with almost more girth than height. He had patched white hair and a beard nearly a foot long, trimmed thin running down from his chin. The effect was somewhere between a steam punk dwarf and a lawn gnome.
“What can I do you for?” he asked from behind a pair of half moon glasses.
“Cream and cheese, the kind with holes of you have it. A bowl of whatever’s got some magic left in it, and whatever she wants, please.”
The man looked slightly off put. “Well most of that’s no problem sonny, but nothing here’s got no magic in it.”
“Nothing at all?” Regus asked, “During the Festival?” That seemed almost blasphemous to him.
“Magic’s good for many things son, but cookin ain’t one of ‘em.”
“In that case, I’ll have whatever the lady orders.” said Regus.
“The lady can have what she likes. You’ll have what I give you magic boy. Then maybe you’ll see.” He walked away after taking everyone’s order and Regus couldn’t for the life of him whether he had angered or excited the small man.
“Magic man doesn’t know how to appreciate a good meal.” said a voice behind Abedah. Of course, that meant Regus had a perfect view. A man...well something decidedly man-like anyways was seated across the room, sipping from a bowl he held in his furry hands. “Magic man probably doesn’t know what to do with one when he has it.” It continued.
“He does know when not to insult strangers in front of company.”
The thing snorted. “Doubt magic man knows what to do with fine company either.” It raised its bowl up to its lips and continued to eat.
“He does know how to have a little fun though.” Regus whispered under his breath. He indicated that Abedah and Pounce should start watching the thing, and waved his hand under the table. The bowl stirred across the room and spouted into the face of the thing holding it. Regus couldn’t help but laugh and smile, and lean back in his chair.
Arael woke up confused. He was beaten and bruised, but he was more comfortable than he had been in a long time. The chair he was in was magnificent. And the mansion, for surely he must be in one, was the most beautiful he’d seen since Yemoja’s exquisitely decorated evil underground lair.
Before him a spread had been laid, a minor feast in fact, still being tended to by an army of scurrying servants. He had even been changed, a fact he found somewhat discomforting. He splashed water onto his face and cleaned his hands in a bowl placed before him by one of the multitude moving between Arael and the food. His head began to clear, and he noticed that someone had begun talking to him.
“Arael, you are a Sentinel fallen from grace.” He gazed at Arael with a single minded focus. “But your return to glory is still possible. Your wings have been mutilated and I am sure they were once a measure of your personal pride. I can heal you, Arael. I can restore you to the man that you once were. I can take what was stolen from you. The only thing I ask in return is very simple. You must help me restore order in Zion. All that I ask is that you detain a single person for me."
Suddenly Arael was no longer hungry, and the throbbing in his shoulder and arms had become less important.
“His name is Ramus.” said Acel.
Acel.
“Someone told me you were important once Acel.” Arael took hold of the picture Acel had extended to him. The boy looked young, hardly old enough to be of any worth, especially to someone like Acel. But his honor was at stake, his livelihood. For one person, the price was well worth the reward. “I guess he was right. I’ll find Ramus, and I’ll bring him to you. But I’ll need a gesture of good will on your part. If I’m to bring him in I can’t do it empty handed. I need steel. I need my weapons.”
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As they were walking, children were following them, begging Regus for more displays of festival magic. He willingly obliged and suggested Abedah try some. She concentrated on the code for particles, and decided to see if she could make the form of a snake. Instead of sparkles, a writhing cobra lifted its head from the ground and hissed at the children. They all screamed and stepped back. Knowing this wasn't what she really wanted, she wiped the thought from her mind and the snake vanished with a pop. The kids cheered and begged for more. Regus threw a few more sparkles, and parents, frightened by the initial screams, called their children back to them.
Once they reached their destination, Regus tried to order, but fell into a bit of a disagreement with the keep. He had no problem getting Pounce's Swiss cheese, but of course it would have a different name in Zion, and Abedah wasn't exactly hungry for a meal having eaten not long before; but was fancying some dessert. "Do you have anything that's frozen and sweet?"
"I certainly do. The lady can have what she likes. You’ll have what I give you magic boy. Then maybe you’ll see.”
After the waiter had left, a furry hand resembling that of a werewolf slammed the table next to Abedah. “Magic man doesn’t know how to appreciate a good meal.” said a voice behind her. She wasn't going to turn around to find out what it was, but it seemed that Regus' request for magic-infused food was generating a lot of hostility.
“Magic man probably doesn’t know what to do with one when he has it,” the creature continued. Nobody was answering, and it seemed the werewolf was looking for a reason to fight. “He does know when not to insult strangers in front of company.” His voice was becoming more agitated, then deciding that it wasn't going to get the fight it was looking for, snorted, “Doubt magic man knows what to do with fine company either.”
It removed its hand and went back to eating. “He does know how to have a little fun though,” Regus whispered under his breath. "Whatever you're thinking; don't do it, Regus, please," Abedah whispered back. But it was too late. She turned around to look at the creature whose bowl leaped out of its hands and into its face. Abedah hid her face in her hands. This was not going to turn out well. But instead of starting a fight like she expected, it stood up, spat at Regus, and left the eatery.
They had no idea that the werewolf was a member of the council, so transformed solely for the festival to seek out those who would be prime targets of their raid against magic the following day.
The waiter brought the items ordered, as well as something special for Regus. Pounce took a bite of the cheese and looked at it carefully. "There was a story on television called Quantum Leap. The main guy was a time traveller, but he didn't go to different times himself. Instead, he swapped consciousness with people from different times, so he lived in their bodies and they lived in his while the leap was happening. But he had a problem. When he lived in someone else's body, his memory had holes in it, like this cheese. And he had a friend that only he could see, because the friend was still living in his own time. Maybe something like that happened to you, Abedah."
Abedah thought about that for a moment, taking a spoonful of her dessert. "That's an interesting thought, Pounce; but I don't think it's right. I remember everything from my own life before coming through the portal, and nothing from the life I'm occupying. Sorry, no cheese here."
"You don't remember everything, but I do. I know who you are; I know why you're here; and I know who Jimmy is."
That took Abedah for a start. She set down her spoon and looked Pounce directly in the eyes. "If you know all this, why are you hiding it from me?"
"Because I'm not supposed to tell. You have to figure it out for yourself." She took another bite of cheese.
Abedah grabbed Pounce's forearm. "Excuse me, cat. If you know something, and you don't share, you are worse than a liar."
Pounce swatted Abedah's hand away. "You're one to talk, wicked witch. You know why you can't conjure up anything but disasters and frights? It's because you're evil to the core. You're so bitter with hate, the only pleasure you get is making others know your pain."
Abedah grabbed Pounce around the throat. "You don't know me, and you don't know a thing about my life. And if you aren't going to help, you can just go back to where you came from. I certainly don't need friends like you."
Pounce had enough of the insults and the physical abuse and grabbed Abedah's shirt with her claw. She raised her other paw with all claws bared, ready to strike bloody rows across Abedah's face when a ball of solid water formed around the cat, soaking her thoroughly. "Now are you going to tell me what I need to know, or should I freeze you solid?" Abedah taunted.
Pounce was about to jump across the table and attack Abedah with full furry fury when a black sword slammed onto the table slicing the cheese in half, coming within inches of Pounce's paws.
"What's going on here?" Jimmy asked firmly, but quietly. Neither Abedah nor Pounce said a word. Jimmy sheathed his sword and looked at Regus, who the two combatants had seemed to forget for a while.
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Hair sopping wet and full of soup, the man stood and spat at Regus. He gave a gracious wave, as one would when accepting applause and a slight nod of his head as the werewolf stormed out the door. It probably wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but he only had one night to enjoy himself, and being set free always brought out the younger, wilder side he had once possessed.
Besides, it was Festival night.
Abedah and Pounce had gotten the message as well. After Pounce gave a brief lecture on something called Quantum Leap things got decidedly nasty.
"You don't remember everything, but I do. I know who you are; I know why you're here; and I know who Jimmy is." said Pounce.
This was going to be interesting.
The two of them launched into a round of verbal sparring, soon followed by Abedah’s hands finding purchase on Pounce’s neck. It was a strange thing to watch someone attempt to strangle a cat.
I should probably be stopping this. Regus thought. He began uttering something beneath his breath and mid-swipe Pounce found herself encased in a globe of water.
That…wasn’t me.
"Now are you going to tell me what I need to know, or should I freeze you solid?" Abedah was taunting, and she let the spell fall.
That was a complex piece of spell work. And she hasn’t even been properly trained. If she could remember…she’ll be spectacular.
It was about that time a great black sword came down on the table, nearly cracking it in two. “What’s going on here?” he intoned. His mouth was a thin line, his voice firm, his anger fairly obvious. It did him credit to remain quiet, especially after nearly shattering a table with a sword.
Neither of Abedah or Pounce responded, not even a glance was thrown toward Jimmy. He sheathed his sword and brought the full weight of his gaze down on Regus. He would have to learn to give a look like that one day. The effect was fairly dramatic.
“Our little magus just moved one step further along the road of trials. It doesn’t always involve trying to kill the friend but it worked just the same.” He leaned forward and picked up the bowl the barkeep had practically thrown at him at him on his way past. It was some kind of stew, with a generous helping of meat and vegetables, with what looked like a large dumpling soaking in the broth. “Abedah, in her anger, cast, accurately aimed, and held a full water binding. Not only that, she did it with the water in the air.”
Regus bit into a mouthful of his stew. Maybe there was something to preparing without magic after all.
“Not a bad bit of magic,” he said in between bites. “especially for someone who doesn’t remember having any formal training. It might be that in stressful situations the other you rises to the occasion, and defends it. All you need is a good fight. How about him?” Regus pointed with his fork, returning to his stew.
Arael walked the still crowded streets of Zion, hands at his side. He ran his fingers down the smooth leather sheath at his side. Acel had given him a hand and a half sword, bigger than he was used to, and it had a double-edge, but it still felt good to have the familiar weight of steel hanging by his side again.
He had gone out into Zion without many leads, just a photo and a name really. He knew what Ramus was, but finding a magician in Zion, a single magician from thousands, was a daunting task. It would almost have been easier to find someone who wasn’t practicing magic in this place. After an hour or so of aimless wandering, he found his way back to the square where he had faced Teller once again, and he had told him that Acel was important.
It was hazy, he couldn’t remember exactly what it was Teller had said, but Acel was the key to something; maybe even getting his wings back. But there was more, there was something he was missing.
But what?
Arael walked the length and breadth of the courtyard. Slowly, step by step he rebuilt the skirmish in his head. Every blow was another brick, another piece of ground zero. Teller had pushed him here, guided him into battle. Why? What was there that he still didn’t know? The obvious answer was mostly everything, but for once, he thought, specifics would have been nice. He sat on the ledge of a nearby garden, scattering several small local creatures. He closed his eyes and examined the scene he had built in his mind. His new companions stood to one side, several of them were engaged with the golden lion that Arael himself had fought. Another man had fallen back into a combat stance, taking on what looked like twins, but were more likely clones due to the identical outfits. Acel stood over it all, unworried and exuding control and power. That part seemed right. There was someone else though, someone who hadn’t been part of either group, but had stuck around to watch. He was metallic, but those eyes…those eyes were so real.
Skratch sat in the small garden, legs folded, eyes open, but unfocused just as Regus had taught him.
…he has not been honest with you…
The words reverberated throughout his very being.
Not just to live from Festival to Festival…
He did live. It couldn’t be helped that before this year he hadn’t been complete, and he had only had a few weeks to get everything ready.
To be controlled…
I am not controlled. He thought it with more belief that he really had. What if it really was true? What if Regus really did control him? How would he know? Was I really doing things of my own will, or did I just think I was? Have I been to other Festivals, only to wake up a year later with no memory of my life before and incomplete? Is my whole existence a lie?
To be a man at all…
“What am I?” he said quietly. He examined his hands. They were a finely crafted and vaguely gold colored alloy, that fit together like plate armor only much more delicately and precisely, the way only magic could make him. His palms were made from leather, and what wires and gears were still visible were, well, wires and gears instead of the more traditional flesh and blood.
…by your very nature you are illegal.
Skratch had thought over that. That man was right of course. Skratch was created, brought into being and sustained by magic, which was only allowed one day a year. What would happen when the sun rose? Would he be turned off, some secret switch or word shutting him down like a wind-up toy, to be stored for another year? Would he be hidden away from public eyes so that no one would know that Regus was an outlaw? He knew the types of people that ran Zion, Regus hated them, often made jokes at their expense. They would not tolerate a being such as Skratch to exist within the city.
“And what do I do?”
Skratch held his head in his hands, unable to reason who was right, and who was the liar.
Arael stood and turned at the unexpected voice behind him. He made his way through the small garden until he came to the source of the voice, and the end of his first hunt.
If you think making this one thing easy on me is going to make up for everything Teller, you’re wrong. Arael thought.
The metal man sat cross-legged in the dirt, bent over. He appeared to be having some sort of existential dilemma. Who better to help than an angel lookalike? Even one as bent and broken as Arael.
“You can start,” Arael said, taking a seat next to him, “by telling me your name.”
The metal man looked up, not startled by Arael’s presence, more not caring. “Skratch.” he said.
“Skratch. I am called Arael. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
Skratch shook his head. “I heard you halfway down the path. I knew somebody was coming. I saw you before. You’re with that official looking man aren’t you? The one who can speak without words.”
“You mean Acel?” said Arael. He wasn’t aware that Acel was a telepath. That explained a lot about how he knew what Arael was. It was vaguely unsettling. “You could say I’m working for him. He sent me looking for a powerful warlock. His name is Ramus. I don’t suppose that means anything to you.”
“He probably means Regus.” Skratch replied. “My creator, and if Acel is to be believed my master as well. I thought we were friends. Partners.”
It didn’t seem right that Acel would get the name wrong. But if this Ramus was being brought in by a government official, then it wouldn’t be beyond belief that he was a felon. And it wasn’t a rare occurrence for felons to have more than one alias. Kyle was doing it even now.
“Perhaps you could take me to him?” asked Arael. I’m new to these parts, and I have a terrible sense of direction. “He’s in a restaurant three blocks south, entertaining guests. I scryed him just a minute ago. You can’t miss it really. It’s the only place that doesn’t look like it’s in the middle of a birthday party.” said Skratch, despondent.
“I don’t suppose he’d mind company?”
“I don’t see why not. He’s finished all of his important work for the night if he’s out in a tavern. You can go to him, but I need to sit for a while and think.” Arael tried to think of some conciliatory or encouraging words, but none came to mind. So he simply thanked Skratch for his time and headed on his way.
Some time, and a wrong turn or two later, Arael came to the only tavern in the city he had scene that wasn’t lit up like the Academy on Chosen’s Day. His hand went to his sword, feeling it’s comfortable weight again, then slowly and casually he made his way in. He surveyed the room, small as it was. There were still a few patrons, most notable of which sat at a table on the other end of the room. One of them was a young woman, one of them was a larger man wearing a black sword. Suddenly Arael was glad that he had decided against coming empty handed. He knew it would be too soon to transform if it came to another fight. Especially with his powers diminished as they were. The third member of the troupe was a wet cat of all things, Arael couldn’t guess why they might have one in a tavern. But the fourth member, leaning forward in his chair, hat slightly askew with a bowl of soup in his hand was familiar somehow. He looked a little like the picture of Ramus that Acel had given him. And he was pointing right at Arael.
He steeled himself, making sure one last time that his weapon was secure, and made his way across the room.
posted
Angelus realized now that she had underestimated the difficulty of the task in front of her. As far as she could remember she had never tried to find someone without the benefit of her powers, and now that she did she wondered how it was that humans ever managed to keep track of one another. Their cities were so huge and there were so many individuals within them. How did they ever find each other in such tangle knots of people? Worse yet, she was in an unfamiliar city looking for someone she barely knew. The odds would have to actively bend the laws of reality to make things harder on her. She cringed at the thought, remembering that she was in the mind game. If it wanted to it could very well bend the laws of reality strictly to spite the little angel. As she drifted she noted that she could not really exert any strength with her wings. She was capable of little more than levitating.She gave a heavy sigh, disappointed at this revelation. True flight would be a gift at this point, if only because it would let her clear her head. She slumped slightly, falling against a wall and deciding to consider her plan of attack. As she did there was a rustle of leaves on the street in front of her. She raised her eyebrows, curious as to what had disturbed the leaves,as there had been no wind. 'Huh,' She thought to herself, 'The mysteries of the mind game never cease.' *** Ramus had expected resistance. What he had not expected was the source it would come from. If anything he had expected the Magus Regulation patrol to focus on him before anyone else. Instead he had drawn the attention of a much larger hunter. One with a mind as sharp and deadly as a tiger's claws. The news of this new player's interest gave him a defiant sense of pride. He'd already caught the attention of one of the most powerful mages in the entire city. <Sir,> Hitomi thought to him, shortly after he had received the news from Jeanette, who had observed an agent of Acel in a garden near the area she was searching, <I'm close enough to intercept them. It would be simple to put an end to their meddling.> Ramus considered this from his bench but shook his head. <No,> He thought <Do nothing. Our two enemies are opposed to each other. With any luck they will sabotage each other's efforts.> He knew this was a risky gambit, and that it wasn't improbable for Cassandra and her friends to side with Acel. But he had a feeling the two opposing sides would do each other more harm than good, and their squabbling would buy him the time he needed. Hitomi seemed unnerved by this idea, but she quickly thought an affirmation that she would follow the new plan. Ramus smiled from where he sat, tugging at his braided beard. He was rolling the dice with this plan. But then again, in games that involve toppling entire empires one can't be afraid of a little risk.
IP: Logged
Pierre held his breath expectantly, desperately clinging to the impossibility of Perrine's plan actually working, until the humanoid girl finally reacted.
"I didn't know cigarettes could talk," she said in a confused tone.
"Da** it all!", Pierre thought reflexively as he prepared to tranq the girl.
The girl continued talking, unexpectedly saying, "But I'll take your offering, oh cigarette god."
Pierre breathed a sigh of relief, she went for it! Which was rather surprising, because Perrine's ideas never worked, even on the befuddled elderly.
As the dark-skinned young woman reached out for the cigarette, Pierre flinched when her hand closed around his own, as he had been expecting her to grab only the cigarette. He pulled his hand from hers, with the unintended effect of startling her so that she tried to run off, but instead collided head on with him.
"Merde," Pierre groaned as he was knocked flat on his back, he was thankful it had been sand he was standing on to break his fall.
Giggling like a naughty child, the young woman crouched over him and hastily picked up a handful of cigarettes and matches that had fallen out of his tactical suit and spilled out onto the shore. She took off like a shot, weaving back and forth madly as she called over of her shoulder, "Quit smoking, ghost, it can kill you!"
Pierre, still on the ground, sat up and watched the strange girl and her strange dog disappear into the forest, still laughing, his stolen cigarettes and matches clutched triumphantly over her head in her right hand. Had he, Pierre, the mercenary who always got his man, the man feared as the "Invisible Devil", been knocked over and robbed by a silly girl and her weird dog? He looked sourly at the cigarettes and matches the girl had left him, still half-buried in the sand. He picked them back up and dusted the sand off of them before placing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it, taking a long, deep drag. He exhaled slowly, savoring the wispy, blue-gray smoke as it curled out of his nostrils.
--Pierre! You're smoking again?--
"Yes, Perrine! I'm smoking again!" Pierre half-whispered, half-yelled angrily. "And there's not a da** thing you can do it about--", he stopped talking suddenly as he watched the cigarette begin glowing curiously, before gold sparks began bubbling around it, and then, it disappeared.
"Da**it Perrine!" he growled angrily, shaking his fist in the air.
--You need to focus on your mission Pierre, we don't have much time left before dawn. And you know what he'll do if you come back without completing it.--
Pierre hung his head, like a child that had been scolded by its parent. "Yeah, yeah, you're right, Perrine, you always are. Let's get this show on the road," he said, before adding, "but I swear, one day I'll teach that girl to steal from Pierre Le Reaux!"
--Sshhhh, shuttup.—
Obediently, and finished with his tirade, he stopped talking and turned his attention to the dock, which stretched out into the pond so that the capsule at the end couldn't be seen from the shore, due to a light fog that had rolled in across the water. He smiled, that would make his job that much easier. A cloaking suit in the fog was like shooting fish in a barrel, with a Stinger shoulder-mounted missile launcher.
Peering into the fog and seeing no one in sight, Pierre stepped gingerly onto the wooden planks of the dock, testing to see if it caused the structure to groan or creak, which it didn't. Bolstered by this, he began sneaking down the dock, until the dim silhouette of the capsule Perrine had mentioned materialized into view from out of the ghostly fog.
--Both of the sprites are in there.—
He didn’t need Perrine to tell him that though, because he could feel them. Two pinpricks, tingling in his mind, each with a different tingle. Every Sprite “felt” different to him.
As Pierre approached the capsule, shining dully in the violet light of the halo, he saw that one of the Sprites was standing guard outside the capsule. That meant the more vulnerable one was probably inside. It also meant they had been expecting a second attack. Too bad for them. Nothing stood between him and a mission, no matter the precautions taken by the enemy.
Caspar was having the most fantastic dream, in which he was fighting against a giant spaghetti monster, whose body consisted of buttery noodles and whose blood was a spicy marinara sauce. He was twirling one of the monster’s fingers around a fork and slurping it greedily into his mouth as his friends cheered him on.
“Use the spoon to help you twirl faster!” Lox called through cupped hands.
“Go for his meatball eyes!” Fenris yelled viciously.
“Grate fresh parmesan on him, it’s his weakness!” Kyle cheered helpfully.
“Arrivederci, spaghetti monster!” Caspar screamed victoriously as Kyle nudged him awake to take over his sentry shift.
Kyle just shook his head, smiling as he did so, in response as he lowered himself to the ground and stretched out with a small sigh of relief. He knew Caspar well enough to expect his irrational behavior.
Caspar rubbed the sleep from his eyes, realization dawning on him that he was not dreaming anymore. His stomach growled wistfully. They both wished the dream had been real as he took over the night watch.
& slumped against the door of the capsule and slid down to a seated position, his mind and body slowing down as the dart Pierre had fired into his neck performed its purpose.
“I’m…s-sorry…Pan---,” he muttered as darkness overcame him and he passed into unconsciousness.
Pierre watched the Sprite from a safe distance and didn’t approach until he was confident the tranquilizer had been fully absorbed into &’s body. It was strange, the Sprite now lay before him in a pathetic, crumpled heap, but he could still feel two active tingles registering in his mind. He turned his head to the right experimentally and was surprised to find one of the tingles growing stronger as he did so until he was facing directly east. The direction the girl that had bumped into him had run off to. Was it possible that she was in the company of another Sprite? If so, he would want to know about it immediately. Pierre decided to wait until his initial mission had been completed before attempting to contact him.
He stepped over &’s fallen form and peeked through the small window into the capsule. It was dark on the inside, he couldn’t see a thing. But he could feel the Sprite through the thick metal and glass, and he was definitely not asleep. They always felt fuzzy when they were asleep, or unconscious, and the tingling feeling he was getting was crystal clear. The Sprite was probably aware of his presence, and waiting in ambush. Little did he know that despite the trap he was setting, he was already entrapped by Pierre.
“You ready, Perrine?” Pierre whispered as he pulled a small spherical object from a pocket on the right thigh of his tactical suit.
--Duh—
He grinned as he flicked a small pin on the orb he had palmed, a green light accompanied by a rhythmic beeping sound pulsed, flashing and beeping three times before the light turned to yellow and the beeping grew more incessant.
“Steady.”
The light turned a dangerous shade of crimson as the beeping reached a crescendo and then became enshrouded in a mist of golden sparks. It disappeared, and then reappeared inside the capsule, where Pan had climbed above the hatch with a small piece of sharpened metal clutched in his bone-white hands. He saw the curious sparks appear out of nowhere, as the object materialized in the center of the sparks before exploding into a heavy mist of violet gas.
Pan felt its effect instantly, and knew what it was. Neurotoxin. His mind fumbled to stay conscious just long enough stretch out and seize hold of Caspar’s consciousness. He implanted a message with a gift into Caspar’s mind before he finally succumbed to the drug and started to collapse as blackness engulfed his vision. He hoped with his remaining seconds of alertness that his friend would get his message, and that his final gift to him would serve him well, so that he wouldn’t meet the same fate.
Caspar stared drowsily at the orange coals, smoldering in the dying campfire, unaware of the plight of his friends at the dock. That is until his brain felt like it had been set to vibrate and somebody had called it.
“Aghaghhhg, what the f***!” he coughed in response to the eerie sensation. He leapt to his feet, something was wrong. He glanced at his friends’ sleeping forms and mentally apologized before dashing off through the woods towards the dock. He had a bad feeling that something had happened to Pan, and he owed Pan his life. Of course, several of the people sleeping at the camp had saved Caspar’s life at least a dozen times, but he hadn’t yet been able to repay that debt to Pan, as he had to them. So he shot off into the dark forest, weaving between the trees and ignoring the brambles and thorns that snagged his skin as he hurtled towards the lake.
Pierre, satisfied with a job well done, felt the tingle in the capsule grow fuzzy and weak. He leaned against the cool metal egg at the end of the dock and procured yet another cigarette, striking a match against the door of the capsule absentmindedly as he cupped his hand around the small flame until his cigarette’s cherry was burning just right. He waved the match lazily in the air until it extinguished itself with a puff of curly blue smoke.
“Okay, Perrine, let’s get out of here before any more surprises show up,” he said quietly, glancing up towards the sky.
--I’m sorry, Pierre, I can’t beam the Sprite from inside the capsule, it’s apparently temporally locked. You’re going to have to get the door open and bring him out first.—
“Merde,” Pierre spat, exhaling twin streams of smoke from his nostrils like a dragon might. He began searching the exterior of the capsule for an access panel or concealed switch. He could have just blown it open, he had enough explosives to do the job, but that would draw unnecessary attention. Attention that he couldn’t afford.
Caspar emerged from the tree line into the foggy, halo-lit clearing at the edge of the lake. The fog glowed an eerie shade of luminous fuschia, and the still waters of the lake reflected the wide, violet band of clouds that formed the halo, creating a truly hellish sight.
He made for the entrance to the dock, his lungs burning and legs protesting at the sudden aerobic needs he was placing on them after being sedentary for so long. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his being, and he only hoped he would get there in time. He didn’t see or hear anyone, but he swore he could smell something strange, something he hadn’t smelled in a long time. Tobacco smoke?
Pierre was so busy trying to get the hatch open he didn’t notice the approaching tingle in his mind growing in strength until it felt like it was right behind him. He ignored it and continued scouring the shell of the capsule until he found it, a conspicuous red button he had somehow missed earlier. He stabbed it into its recess viciously and spun around to face the Sprite that was fast approaching, assuming a defensive stance. It was too late to re-cloak, so he formed a gun with the finger and thumb of his right hand and fired three darts blindly towards the approaching tingle, as the hatch’s hydraulics slowly began opening the door. He was going to be cutting it close.
“You better be ready, Perrine,” he whispered, noting that the tingle he was feeling was releasing sharp spikes of energy, a sure sign that whatever it was, was pissed.
Caspar could smell the smoke more strongly now as he began surging down the planking of the dock, uncaring of how much noise he was making. & would have noticed him by now and called out to him, but instead he heard nothing, until he heard a familiar mechanical hissing and whirring noise. The capsule’s hatch. At the same time, he felt three stabs of pain, one on his right thigh, one on his abdomen, and another in his left shoulder. Something was attacking him!
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” he screamed angrily, still charging down the dock, ripping the darts from his body and throwing them in the water as he continued his assault.
The capsule materialized from out of the thick soupy haze, as did a sight that Caspar would never forget, and have trouble getting over for a long time to come.
A shadow in the shape of a man with gleaming weapons and pockets covering his entire body, with horrible, staring, luminous green eyes. Pan’s unconscious form was slumped over the figure’s shoulder like a sack of flour, and the shadow’s right boot was resting securely on the back of &’s fallen body.
“Let them go!” Caspar howled, still sprinting towards the shadowy spectre that had his friends.
It was useless though, he didn’t know what he was going to do when he reached the unknown enemy. His body was weak and frail and he had no weapons, as his plasma baton was only a one-time-use emergency device meant to be used to cut a way out from inside of the capsule in the chance that the hatch mechanism failed. He didn’t have Wolf on his side this time, or the passive powers he granted him, and who knew what had happened to the Bracer of Aquais, but it sure wasn’t on his arm. And to top things off, he suddenly felt very fatigued, and unsteady on his feet.
He stumbled to close the distance between him and the enemy as he saw a golden aura of sparks encase the figure, and his two friends. And in the light of the sparks, he saw the figure’s face. What he had thought were glowing green eyes were actually luminous goggles, and he could barely make out a bent cigarette sticking out from between the pale stranger’s lips.
The man seemed to be comfortable now that he was surrounded by the sparks, and cognizant that Caspar could see his face, because now he hooked a thumb around his goggles and pulled them up just in time to add one final insult to injury, and wink farewell, before the sparks imploded in on each other, and then, Caspar was alone on the dock.
“I’ll find you, I swear it,” Caspar promised as he staggered drunkenly, his world shrinking and spiraling in on him as he finally fell forward into the capsule, landing on the capsule's cold, steel floor in a heap of wiry arms and legs as if he were a marionette whose strings had all been severed at once.
The hatch began closing automatically after having been open for a thirty seconds, and as darkness closed in on him he wondered, why was he always powerless to help his friends when they depended on him? It was like he was some great, cosmic joke, except no one was laughing.
posted
Pounce was sopping wet, angry at Abedah, and taken aback by Jimmy. For anyone walking in, she was quite the sorry sight. "Would somebody mind casting a wind spell to dry me off?" she asked. Abedah ignored her.
“Not a bad bit of magic,” Regus said in between bites of stew, “especially for someone who doesn’t remember having any formal training. It might be that in stressful situations the other you rises to the occasion, and defends it. All you need is a good fight. How about him?” Regus pointed with his fork, returning to his stew.
A ragged-looking stranger entered the tavern, hand on hilt, looking directly at Regus. Abedah looked between the stranger and Regus a couple times, trying to figure out what was going on. Whatever it was, she didn't want to get involved. "Why should I fight someone I haven't even met yet?"
The stranger glanced at Jimmy and tightened his grip on his sword, but made no aggressive move. Jimmy turned to see who had entered behind him, but didn't recognize the fallen guardian. "If there's nothing else you can do for us," Jimmy said to Regus, "I think we should be on our way. How much do I owe you for your services and hospitality?"
Abedah glared at Jimmy. "Have you forgotten about Hayder?" she asked. "Do you really think we can hide from him forever?"
"We don't need to," Jimmy replied. "All we need to do is get out of Zion before daybreak."
From a dark corner of the tavern, a gentle breeze began to blow, concentrating on the stricken cat. A quiet voice seemed to come from the breeze itself, "Don't leave just yet. Hayder isn't interested in you, but others elsewhere may be. Be careful." Iysi! Pounce thought, recognizing the voice. As soon as she thought the name, the breeze stopped. Turning to look, the corner table was empty. Her fur was still wet, but much less than it had been before.
>>>>>>><<<<<<
A stooped old woman leaned on a cane behind the bench. If anyone had been watching, they may have been surprised by the woman appearing out of thin air. Teleporting had such advantages, especially to an old woman.
"Hello, Skratch. It's been a long time since we've seen each other; so I don't know if you remember me. I'm Iysi, and it seems you need someone to talk to. If you'd like, I'm willing to listen."
IP: Logged
posted
The Great Red Desert of Kopul-Vul, an arid expanse, a crimson wasteland dotted randomly with half-buried ancient ruins, the language and symbols originally carved on them polished away by the ceaselessly shifting sands. Only the eerie sound of the wind howling across the dunes could be heard.
That is, until it was replaced by a louder, wilder, more obnoxious sound.
"Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" A tall young man dressed in a dark cloak bellowed, from atop a small craft.
His left hand was clutched over his black, pointed hat, securing it on his head against the furious rushing wind, while he remembered to keep his right hand firmly on the rudder of the leviskiff.
The curious vehicle skimmed across the sand effortlessly at blazing speed, as if it weren't even touching the ground. Which was almost true. The craft had two great wooden skis, one on each side running the length of the vessel. It looked like a runaway sleigh, since there was no animal pulling it, but it was quite different than the average sleigh, apart from the obvious fact that it was apparently pulling itself. A central mast, similar to one found on a sea-going vessel, supported a large, triangular sail, which was bundled and tied against the mast currently. There was also what seemed to be a cabin of sorts mounted on the deck of the craft, a few feet behind the mast, though it was hardly large enough to house several people and perhaps a small table and chairs.
An attractive young woman in a green tunic with her great brown cape gathered around her tightly, and her hood pulled down over her eyes was seated at the table. One of her hands was clutched tightly to the lip of the table, while the other was busy preventing her hood from flying up. Rusty colored sand was spraying into the cabin from all directions, swirling around in violent eddies and thoroughly ruining the glass of tea she had just brewed and poured for herself. She scowled at the small porcelain cup and saucer on the table, or at least where they would have been, underneath the growing pile of sand.
"Neko!" she roared furiously as she kicked the cabin door open, revealing a huge, blue sky with wispy clouds racing across it. She strutted out of the cabin, still clutching her hood over her eyes to keep the sand out of her face.
"Hey, so you finally decided to join me!" a voice called from behind her.
She spun around contemptuously, glaring at the leviskiff pilot.
"Slow down!"
The figure in the pointy hat cocked his head to one side.
"What did you say?"
Her eyes narrowed, "I said, SLOW DOWN!"
He shrugged, cocking his head to the other side.
"Huh?"
That was it. She had been patient with him all morning, but she had a breaking point. Something he was well aware of, as he crossed it almost hourly. She kicked off one of her heavy boots and picked it up, grinning mischievously as she did so. This ought to get him to slow down a bit.
She aimed the boot with perfect precision before lobbing it towards the aft end of the leviskiff, where Neko was manning the rudder.
Neko had only a a few seconds to react. He squandered the first second slowly realizing that with one hand holding his hat to his head, and the other controlling the rudder, he didn't have a free hand to block or catch the impending size-6-narrow projectile, which was hurtling end over end and making a swift beeline for his "magic cupboard".
The boot whistled through the air like a horrible, demasculinating arrow, with the doom of his unborn children written all over it. The thick, hard-leather heel was almost upon him when a sudden glint of fire burned in his eyes. A pair of swirling fiery spheres erupted from out of Neko's eyes and intersected the missile, disintegrating the boot into a harmless pile of black ash in an instant, which joined the swirling sands and was carried off in the wind.
"Haha, Yes! I win!" Neko cried cheerily, a giant grin spreading across his face.
*whump*
The smile fell from his face as he choked on his earlier laughter.
"Oh," was all he managed to say as he looked down at the matching boot, buried in his groin, which had hit with such stunning impact that it was temporarily held there in the air for a few seconds before it fell to the deck of the leviskiff with a soft thud. Soon followed by the much louder thud of Neko, falling unceremoniously to all fours.
The moment his hand left the rudder the craft immediately began losing velocity, until after only a few moments, it had completely slowed down to a halt, and sunk its skis a few inches into the sand, before coming to rest.
Neko lay on his stomach, groaning piteously, as Nekita slowly made her way aft to where he was sprawled.
"You just HAVE to do it, don't you?" she said through a frown, without a shred of pity in her voice.
"Unghhh."
"Pushing," she continued, "and pushing and pushing, until I get fed up and you make me do something, like this.
Neko coughed hollowly.
"Alright, fine, it looks like you learned your lesson," Nekita relented, nonchalantly waving a hand in his direction, sending a current of bluish energy rushing over her fallen brother, instantly mending any damage wrought.
"Ah, that's better," Neko chirped as he sprung to his feet as if nothing had happened and he was awaking after a nice nap.
"Seriously though, Neko," Nekita chided, "Master Sudoku specifically warned us not to go too fast, since you've never driven a leviskiff before."
Neko chortled, rolling his eyes, "C'mon sis, you scared I'm gonna crash or something?"
"No," Nekita started, "I'm scared that you're going to lose track of how much magic it's draining from you to go that speed, and when you realize it, that it will be too late."
Neko leaned against the side of the cabin. "Oh yeah, that. I kinda forgot it sucked out your magic energy. Now that you mention it though, I feel a little light-headed."
Nekita sighed and shook her head. "What would you do without me? Take a rest inside the cabin for a while, I'll drive."
Neko didn't need any convincing, as he trudged into the cabin and slumped into one of the chairs, and promptly fell asleep.
Nekita checked in on him, unsurprised that he was already asleep when she entered the cabin, and threw a blanket over her slumbering brother.
Caspar was unconscious, and thoroughly so. A veritable neurotoxin gumbo was coursing through his veins, and he wasn't going to be waking up for a long time. Of course, that meant he had plenty of time to dream, and dream he did. But little did he know that while he was dreaming, day was dawning on the curiously deep pond with the dock that led to the shiny metal egg.
This same egg found itself magnified thirty-two times by a gold-plated spyglass, held by a particular sky pirate aboard the Ascension named Kidd. A man whose unique talents had earned him fame among his enemies and admirers, and even a title, Kidd the Squid.
Kidd now looked down on the egg in the middle of the pond, he was intrigued. What the blazes was that thing, and what was it doing out there in the middle of that pond? He watched his comrades eagerly transport themselves to the ground when their selected targets came into view, many of them flying to their death, or grave injury at the least. Kidd let them go ahead of him, there were many reasons for why he was called The Squid, one of them being his patience and cautiousness. He knew when to wait, and when to strike, and the time was not right yet. Instead, he strolled below decks, seeking to recruit a number of men trusty to him, and to tickle their fancy for a particular side-mission.
In this way, while Caspar's friends were being raided and attacked by the ambushing pirates, and doing some attacking of their own as well, Kidd and three other pirates emerged stealthily from the woods' edge and strode along the shore of the pond. Their heads swiveled as they sauntered, keeping the capsule in the middle of the pond within their keen and hungry gaze. Kidd led the men down the dock, single file, their heavy boots thudding loudly against the hard planks. If Caspar had been awake to see the brightly colored procession coming his way, he would have likely made a joke of something along the lines of, "I didn't know the circus was in town," but unfortunately, he was what the pirates would have termed, "four sheets in the wind". A fact they dryly observed as they took turns peering through the transparent window at his scrawny, tangled body.
"Not quite the treasure ye promised, eh Kidd?" the largest of the pirates, named Spine Belly Sam, posited through a snaggle-toothed smirk, before adding, "unless ye were a weirdo."
An old salt, as evident by his graying crewcut, held a finger to his mouth, wisely shushing the dissenter, who was not quite as acquainted with Kidd as he was, being a more experienced sky pirate, and did not understand the danger of openly taunting such a man.
Kidd cast a reproachful eye over his shoulder at the man who had spoken up, and made a mental note to torture him later. "The treasure, Slime-belly Sam, is not what's inside the chamber, it's the chamber itself."
Kidd had an unmistakeable eye for quality, and he was never wrong. He knew this capsule was special. He just didn't know why yet, but those secrets would reveal themselves to him in time, likely in correspondence to whatever answers he gleaned from its occupant.
"Store 'er in the hold," Kidd finally said, before adding, "somewhere safe, away from prying eyes."
"Aye," the scurvy lot replied, obediently making the capsule ready to be transported back to the Ascension. Kidd wasn't the captain, by any means, but he was the ship's map-maker, a job well-respected and esteemed by any sailor worth his salt, for without him, they would all be lost. And even more importantly, he was a scary mother******. The men didn't need to be told twice.
Kidd glanced around the pond one final time before departing, searching for anything else that might shed some light on the capsule. He only saw the mutilated corpse of a fearsome creature, a rudimentary fishing pole, and a few cigarette butts. He really wanted to know just what the **** had happened.
posted
Neko rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he awoke with a lurch, still seated upright in a chair. He tried to figure out what was different for a few puzzling moments, when he finally realized that the leviskiff was no longer moving. Fearing the worst, he bolted out of the cabin, flinging the door open so viciously that it nearly broke off its hinges.
His sister's name was on the tip of his tongue, but before he could cry out, Neko realized that it was night time, and secondly, that a sprawling desert oasis metropolis was laid out before him on all sides, with the most elaborate fireworks show he had ever witnessed lighting up the clear sky. The light the burning magnesium and phosphorus gave off illuminated Nekita's diminutive form, where she perched on the railing of the leviskiff's bow, equally enchanted by the dazzling display.
"Whoa," Neko managed as he stood behind his sister, "are we..."
"In Zion?" Nekita finished his sentence, "yes."
"You drove all the way here?" Neko said in disbelief.
"We were closer to Zion than you think when you took a break. I just parked the leviskiff, really."
"Which means--," Neko started.
"Yes, they're here," Nekita confirmed, still staring up into the brightly lit sky.
"How can you be so sure?" Neko asked, feigning indifference
"I wasn't just sitting around, weaving flowers into tiaras while you were off honing your magic, Neko. I apprenticed under Master Sudoku, who taught me to stretch out my magic field and "touch" my surrounding areas and inhabitants. And I can feel them. They're definitely here."
"Who's the closest?" Neko inquired, absentmindedly juggling a trio of flaming orbs.
Nekita closed her eyes for a second, focusing, her stern expression cracking into a smile, before opening her eyes again.
He apparently sneezed so hard that he regained consciousness. Which was weird, but that wasn't the only thing that was weird, because the last thing he remembered was passing out on the dock, and he was pretty sure that he was now currently lying in a rope-mesh hammock. Which would make this--
"A dream," a familiar voice behind him said.
Caspar nearly fell out of his hammock, struggling to regain his balance as he haphazardly spun around. His jaw dropped.
"Pan?"
"Yes, it's me, Pan. Look, Caspar, I know this is strange for you, but that's not important right now, because if we're having this conversation then you are either asleep, or unconscious, and I fear that it is the latter of the two. That being said, can we just get past the whole awkward scene in which you realize that you're dreaming and that I'm not actually here?"
"Uh...," Caspar replied eloquently.
"Great. Now then, instead of you pelting me with questions, which I'm sure you intend to do, I think I'd rather explain to you in my terms what's going on. Firstly, I am a remnant of psychic energy from the real Pan, God rest my soul, wherever I am."
Caspar nodded, this made a sort of sense.
"Secondly," the sprite continued, "this is a temporary type thing, so try not to interrupt me too much, because I don't have much time. I put most of my remaining power to a different use. What you see right now is just the tip of the iceberg."
"Too much time before what?" Caspar asked apprehensively.
Pan grinned, "Before I start my next adventure. Now then," he paused as a stool actualized itself next to where he was standing, and he sat on it, "here's the deal, surprise number one is...I fused my mental shielding to your own mind."
Caspar wondered what exactly that meant.
"Meaning," Pan said anticipating Caspar's confusion, "I made it permanent. You have a faultless, limitless psychic shield sewn into your mind. Pretty cool, huh?"
Caspar had to agree with him on that account.
"Which leads me to surprise number two...there's more to you than you realize, but I don't want to say too much before you're ready, so I'll begin by informing you of a special power lying dormant within you. A power of your very own, that you have always possessed, but never awakened. That being said," Pan paused momentarily, as he held one of his hands up.
With a snap of his fingers, a crack as if from a bull-whip rang out, vibrating and thrumming with such force that ghostly ripples appeared in the air, emanating outwards in concentric circles from his outstretched hand.
"I just woke it up, but it's up to you to determine how and what to make of it. Which brings me to my concluding remarks. It was an honor to have called you my friend, and I know you'll do the right thing, whatever that happens to be. Good luck, Caspar."
Pan's voice wavered as he began flickering on the stool like a light-bulb going out.
"Wait, not yet," Caspar said sadly, "what do I do now?"
The flicker grew in intensity as Pan responded, "You'll see," before flickering with the intensity of a strobe light for a brief moment, and then winking completely out.
IP: Logged
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Skratch took his head out of his hands at the rustling of leaves. A bent old woman with a cane was walking through the underbrush toward him. She stopped just short of the bench.
"Hello, Skratch.”
Huh?
It's been a long time since we've seen each other; so I don't know if you remember me.”
“Can’t say that I do, in fa-”
“I'm Iysi, and it seems you need someone to talk to. If you'd like, I'm willing to listen."
She was forward, that was for certain. And he certainly didn’t remember her. But there wasn’t a whole lot he was sure about these days, much less whether he knew any strange women with canes that walk around bushes at night. Then again, maybe in this case he was pretty sure.
“I haven’t got anything to talk about. Not that I can talk about with an old woman I don’t even know. No offense.” He sat forward again, less upset and more irritated at the woman’s silent presence. He didn’t talk for a time, but she didn’t move. He brooded. “It’s just that I don’t know how to explain it. Is my whole life a lie? Or am I just being lied to? Who do I believe when everything I know could be wrong, everything I’ve ever learned or thought or felt could just be some sort of pre-determined response? Ya know?” He doubted very much that she did. But she didn’t move, and maybe it was just his foul mood, maybe it was how sour this night had turned, maybe he was just stubborn. So he sat there for a time as well, silent, waiting for heaven only knew what.
“How much do I owe you for services and hospitality?” asked Jimmy.
“Owe? I hadn’t really thought about it. If Isyi sent you there must have been a good reason, and I don’t generally charge for that sort of work. Keep the totem though Abedah. It marks you as a student. Of mine, of Iysi’s or Jimmy’s it doesn’t really matter. But wherever you need help, there are people who know what that is. And they know to help a fellow magus when they see one.”
Regus glanced back at the man in the doorway. He looked nervous, and his hand was on the sword at his belt. He was walking toward the table.
“Now,” Regus said draining his stew and wiping himself off. “It seems either you or I have attracted some sort of company, and I’d rather not be around when he gets to our table. Jimmy, it was nice to see you; Abedah, a pleasure. Keep practicing. You never know who else you might meet on a night like this.” He tipped his hat to Pounce, grinned like a madman, and vanished, a vaguely wizard shaped cloud of smoke taking his place, it wafted away until nothing but what could have been a mad grin remained.
Arael watched in disbelief as Regus disappeared in a wisp of smoke. He knew his target was powerful, but he hadn’t been counting on teleportation. The fact hadn’t even entered his mind. He cursed silently and turned an about face, running back into the streets. The streets in this part of town were less crowded than before certainly, but there still were a good amount of people; enough to hide in at any rate. Arael ran down one wet and dirty side street, then another. He backtracked, jumping over a drunk and shoving aside several rowdy patrons of a nearby inn. He drew his sword a few inches out of its scabbard when they protested, and began to follow him.
Eventually he found his way back to the bar he had seen his mark disappear from. Thinking back on a lifetime of training he closed his eyes and cleared his mind. When he opened them again the streets were still full, and loud, and bright. They were no longer confusing to him though. Arael had settled into a tracker’s mental state, and he moved quickly and diligently from face to face, observing everyone for any sign of his mark. He was looking over a man with a derby that was entirely too small for him on his head when he saw it out of the corner of his eyes. Smoke. Thick and grey it wafted around the corner, leaving the same small hint of a grin behind it.
It was an obvious trap, and Arael knew it. Slowly and cautiously, he walked right into it. The alley was short, and wasn’t even an alley really. It was more like a shared dumping space between the three buildings that cordoned it off. It was a dead end. Out of the crowd now, Arael drew his sword, and not for the first time that night wished he had his two blades, the warm steel and calm light of the fire running up their steel at his sides. There was nobody in the alley, and not a single place to hide.
He’s here somewhere. Why else leave the trail…
Arael kept his back to a wall and sidestepped further into the dumping zone, one eye always on the only way out.
He could have climbed, or just jumped again.
Arael felt the tension build in his shoulders, ready to turn and swing at a moment’s notice. It built in his legs too, ready to run on or lend force to a blow or block should it be needed.
Come on.
And then quickly he exhaled, and slid his sword back into its sheath more clumsily than he would have liked.
“He’s probably halfway across the city by now.”
Then he felt it. Pressure on his back, an arm slid quickly around his throat. Someone had a knife against him. “Why are you looking for me?”
The voice came out of the wall, and Arael turned his head as well as he could. It was Regus behind him, glaring daggers. His torso was sticking out of a solid brick wall, where the rest of him was Arael could only guess.
“I was told to find you Ramus. Or is it really Regus now? My patron wants to see you.” He felt pressure in his lower back, more dull than a blade though. Is it really just hid hand against my spine?
“My name has always been Regus. You’ve got the wrong man.”
“Because that’s all it’s going to take to convince me.” said Arael.
“I could have taken away your ability to walk. I could have scattered you into pieces onto the brick. If I really was in the mood I could have turned you into a pretty little bunny and sent you into a kennel as a snack.” Arael felt warmth where Regus’ hand was still pressed into his back, and detected a faint smell of ozone. “I could have killed you and ran. But I didn’t. Believe me when I say I’m not who you think I am.”
Still not much of a point. Arael thought. “Fine. Let me go.” The warmth increased into a dull burning sensation for a moment, and quickly Arael had a vision of tiny furry bits being chewed on by dogs.
“How did you find me?” asked Regus. “And who told you my name was Ramus?” he walked out of the wall, one hand still firmly pointed at Arael.
“A friend of yours. He’s shiny. He said for all he knew you went by a dozen different names.”
Regus dropped his hand. The look of surprise on his face was genuine. “Skratch?”
Where did he find a bounty hunter? And why would he send him to me.
“We need to talk.” He walked over to Arael, hands raised in a gesture of peace. Then quickly he put his hands on Arael’s shoulders, smiled, and they both disappeared.
IP: Logged
posted
Finding someone is always easier said than done.
Lox should have known that because she often lost her keys and then found them in her trunk. And in earlier days, before Limbo she would lose her glasses and until she passed a mirror and realized she was wearing them.
Certainly, the task of finding Kyle in Zion, a place sprawling with bustling magic wielders and beautiful, bouncing colorful prints should be easy.
It was the law of averages. Kyle was male. That eliminated half the population. He always wore blue. No one seemed to understand the concept of a solid color. He was also relatively pale, so that eliminated at least eighty percent of the people here who were almost universally mahogany to copper. Kyle was closer to fawn.
Lox suddenly felt as if she were standing in an aisle picking out paint samples.
Still, for someone so large and uncommon, he was difficult of find. That might be a defensive strategy or a testament to her inability to locate anything. She thought about this absently as she took a break on a busy patio, swirling a truly delicious cup of chilled black tea in a too-tall glass.
“Very bad business,” a man beside her said. His brow furrowed, deepening a permanent line between his amber eyes. So strange, because his hair was a bluish wave and before she could un-transfix herself, he was sitting in the seat next to her, crossing the distance between them quickly on long, sturdy legs. His fingernails were black from hard work or cigars, he had a full beard that connected to a closely cropped, but still disheveled, Caesar cut. There was a bright diamond in his ear.
Lox pretended not to hear him or feel his arm, brown, warm, and only hairy to the elbow, against her own. She could feel his eyes trace over her head, through her hair, down her heavily tattooed arms and shoulder blades. In this open market, she felt cornered by a man in plaid.
“What do you mean?” Lox said, pulling down her sleeves when not looking at him had not driven him off. She might have clutched her pearls if she had some. Incidentally, the way this man was staring at her made her feel more visible and invisible than she ever had before. And not in the good way that Hayder could see into her, it was full of suspicion and menace, not a hint of concern.
He grabbed her wrist, very suddenly. She recoiled. The straw turned counter clockwise in the sweetened tea, oblivious to the sour shift in mood.
“The lamp of the Pharos. Here, on your hand. And the crown of the goddess Nyx, here on the other. Sacrilege at best. Poor taste at worst.”
“I have to go,” Lox said hurriedly, taking her tea with her. She stood up abruptly and scuttled down the bench of the picnic table with ice-skater-like speed and agility.
He grabbed her by the back of her shirt. She pushed his hands away angrily. He reasoned she had something else to hide and could see from her glyphs that she was covered, almost completely, in magic. He, too, had a gift and had always suspected he was not the only one. He had no inkling of how to communicate with a woman and had never had to develop one. He was a miner by trade and did not generally speak to women whose company he was not paying for.
In that spirit, he reached for her shirt again to see what he had suspected was a sword hilt resting along her hip bone. Not a second before he reached for her she slapped him so hard across his face they were both shocked.
“Leave me alone,” she said in a terse beat of silence.
This, as he was wiping tea out of his eyes where she had dashed him across the face with the contents of her glass. The broken bits lay sparkling, like cut teeth over his boots. She was gone.
“Way to go, Eshu,” he said to himself casually draining his glass, her handprint neon on his face. “Looks like you made a friend.”
Lox, who had just won gold in the pissed off Olympics, though she would have probably tested positive for steroids, went back to doing what she should have been doing the entire time: looking for Kyle.
A group of ladies walked by smiling a greeting. They looked at her like they knew her, and she felt goofy and a little silly as if she were supposed to know them too. She couldn’t help but grin back, though. People seemed to be pretty nice here, except the ones who were not.
“Ugh! Kyle! Where the hell are you?” she said angrily. “Where would I go if I were Kyle? Let’s list some possibilities.” Lox was a notorious list maker and perhaps would get nothing done without a list.
Mutton chop eating competition. Competitive bad guy killing spree. A place that sells leggings for totally straight guys. Psuedo-Asian sword fighting. Got’s gym. Deep, philosophical musings. Masculine tunics emporium. Sway is an asshole meeting. A record store full of triumphant theme music. Barbershop that only uses axes. Utah.
“Ugh!” Lox shouted even angrier looking at her list. “These aren’t even places!” This, as she was about to write, “utility belt patent office.”
“Okay, gotta think. Where would Kyle be? It’s a festival. Kyle likes girls. Let’s find girls.” And then it dawned on her why all the ladies were smiling at her. Well, it didn’t dawn on her as much as it shown on her.
“Hello, gorgeous, want to party?” asked a svelte young woman who was dressed in a kimono despite the fact that she would have been more at home in a dashiki.
The Red Lantern District.
“Uh… maybe later,” Lox said.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” she smiled, kissing her cheek.
She abandoned Pretty Woman’s teachings about call girls all at once.
She walked away in stiff confusion.
“Fancy seeing you here,” said Eshu.
“Get away from me,” Lox intoned.
“I thought you were special, now I see you were on break. Forgive me.”
“I don’t work here.”
“Then you’re a customer?”
A perfect alibi. “Don’t judge me. Come on sugar tits,” Lox said roping her arm in Kimono-chick’s. “Let’s go.”
She had meant to walk a little ways with the girl, then explain and go on searching. Eshu, for his part, was not going to let her out of his sight so easily. “I think I’ll join you.”
Kimono-chick was imagining her burlap sack sized purse filled with gold. “Yes, yes.”
She pushed them both into a motel, which was somehow twice as large on the inside as it was on the outside. She showed them where to put their shoes. “You know,” Lox said realizing that this, whatever this was, was about to actually happen, “I got this. You can just go find your own kimono person. Oh look. I guess I forgot my wallet. I’m going to have to head back home—”
“Nonsense, my treat,” Eshu said. “Let me make up for my rudeness.” He handed the girl some heavy coins and sat in the lobby, crossing his legs uncomfortably the way he imagined a refined man would.
Lox was dumbfounded. No bluff had been more seriously called. Ever.
Kimono-chick led/drug her by the wrist into the room.
The door was barely closed before she cast off the kimono faster than a self-peeling banana. It happened in less than an eye blink, and Lox knew that because she was looking.
“Hey, uh, just… uh… put all that back on,” Lox said feeling a bead of sweat formulating even in this cold room.
“You want massage?” Kimono-chick asked pulling out some baby oil. Robeless, she looked photoshopped and inexplicably shiny. Everything was symmetrically lifted and separated. A plastic doll would have been ashamed. Lox looked like a filthy schoolboy next to her.
“I’m just going to… uh… run to the bathroom,” she invented. Kimonoless-girl stood in the doorway and gestured toward a small door on the other wall.
Lox ran/tripped into it, closed the door and started thinking. First she pulled out her Where’s Kyle List, then crossed out Red Lantern District very matter-of-factly. Then, mad at herself for putting herself in the Sexual Harassment Panda zone, balled it up and stuffed it in her pocket. There was a knock at the door. “Just a minute.”
Kimono-chick started talking about some things Lox had never heard of. Marshmallow surprises and something about a chocolate fountain. Spankings. Did she want her to pierce something?
Lox knew one thing. She could not walk through that door.
Years ago a woman named Kleo had stunned the world with a graphic liaison with Kofo. It had happened off site, in a discrete uninhabited bathroom not unlike the one she was in. Illusionists everywhere had seen some things they had no idea were even possible. They had witnessed some love moves that had made their eyes simultaneously bulge in horror and also, impossible to close. A line had definitely been crossed, at least three to four dozen times, and as a writer, Lox had promised herself she would never let it go that far.
She thought she heard the faint hum of a hand-held chainsaw in the bedroom. “I brought a toooooooy,” Kimono girl sang.
This was the part where the climax of the story was going to happen. Either she was going escape or be manhandled. Lox kicked out the window and, with surprisingly catlike bravado, rolled into the street.
Cat-like in the sense that now she was covered in dirt and would need to spend the rest of the day licking the back of her hand to get behind her ear to get it off.
She ran for a few paces though the small alley. Kimono-chick had found a key to the bathroom and was hanging out of the window shouting after her. Breasts in the wind.
Lox didn’t look back, she didn’t have a chance to. At that moment she turned the corner and tripped so hard over a huge metallic chamber that she slid into it like an eight-year-old kick baller groping for home plate.
Her mouth was kind of open and now full of Red Lantern sand.
She staggered to her knees and used the silver dome to stand up. Her hand slipped on a red button. Her pants from the knee down were covered in dirt. The Where’s Kyle List was completely unscathed. “Thank Got for that,” she said sarcastically.
She probably should have noticed Eshu’s eyes on her or the slowly opening hatch behind her, but she didn’t.
As much as she hated women in horror movies, she was the prototype.
In the hatch was a bedraggled, sleeping (or dead) Caspar.
“Holy crap,” she gasped, “Kimono girl got you, too.”
She knelt down beside the pod and poked Caspar experimentally. Based off the slightly seaweed-y smell of the capsule she wondered if he had been in there the whole time.
“How are you using the bathroom?” she asked herself. “Why are you still in this tricked out Easter egg?”
That was when Eshu grabbed Lox from behind. “I knew you were trying to dodge me. What are you hiding?” With that he pulled up her shirt as she struggled futilely to get him off of her. He was a head and shoulders taller and built like a transformer.
“So you are an animator,” he growled. She was kicking his legs. He put her down and she was actively looking for a weapon.
“Calm down, darling, I was just checking something.”
She had found a solid Mario pipe and looked ready to take it to his head.
“I do not like people touching me. Do I look like a ****ing goat to you? Is this a got**** petting zoo? You sheep raping country mother****er, if you touch me one more time. Just one more got**** time, I swear on every kimono in here that I will make your head look like a puzzle piece.”
Eshu pulled from out of his bag a long piece of rope. “Sheep raping country mother****er? Let’s see who can lasso who first.”
posted
Unceremoniously, Kyle and Noon had tossed Alex into a chair in the corner of the room, taking a little pleasure in dealing a bruise or two to the mouthy Kyle look-alike. Each grabbed a rope, and first tied the man's hands and arms, and then his legs to the base, hoping to keep him from going anywhere. Finished, the two stepped back.
Kyle stepped into the other room, closing the door behind him.
Alex grinned, and looked right at Noon, who regarded the bound pirate with contempt.
"Aw, still sore about getting thrown to the street, are we?"
"Shut up, pirate."
"Touchy," said Alex. "Good thing your friend was there to save the day, eh? Since you obviously can't handle yourself."
Noon pulled out the steamlock pistol, and aimed it between the captain's eyes. Alex paused for a second, but then started laughing, as if Noon had told the funniest joke ever.
"Why should I be afraid of you now? Your buddy here already had a gun to my head, and you two have taken all the trouble to bring me to wherever the hell we are, and tied me all up. You wouldn't go through all that trouble if you were just going to kill me."
Noon started to lower his weapon.
"Now there's a good boy," said Alex. Noon tensed again, and then aimed the weapon low.
"But I can at least shoot you in the foot," said Noon. He fired.
Alex flinched horribly, as the bullet embedded itself into the packed clay flooring, just two inches from the pirate's foot. Alex was enraged.
"You son of a *****!"
Noon aimed the pistol again, and this time, Alex was quiet.
"Don't push me, pirate," said the zeppelin pilot. "The only reason I don't just kill you now is because my friend here asked me not to. So that gives you a pass, for now. But you better listen closely to what he has to say, because otherwise," he indicated his pistol. "You and Nellie here are going to get much better acquainted."
Noon spun the pistol, and slipped it into the holster under his arm. He stepped across the room, and through the door, leaving the pirate alone.
----------
Kyle still wasn't sure if this plan would work. After all, it was all only a gamble. His visions, even the one last night, had not changed. Instead, more and more details were coming to light. Lox would fall. Angelus would die. Fenris would not be able to withstand. And now Caspar would die as well. Kyle even thought that he saw a familiar Sentinel meeting his doom, but fighting on the other side.
Things were still murky, but the intent was clear. Unless Kyle did something, then all who went against this force would meet their end.
The thing is, though, Kyle didn't know what his place was in all of this. He wasn't some kind of superman. He may be talented, but he didn't have the power to take on an overpowering magician all on his own. How exactly was he going to shift the tide?
And then, they'd stumbled upon his doppelganger.
A curious idea had sprang up in the Blue-Blade Warrior's mind. One that perhaps would give them an edge that they so desperately needed.
That was, of course, if the pirate could be convinced to help.
A shot rang out. Kyle rushed towards the door, but there was no cause for alarm. He listened through the wall, and heard Noon offering his muffled ultimatum. With a rap on the door, the pilot stepped from the impromptu interrogation chamber, and closed the door.
"You didn't actually shoot him, did you?"
"Just scared him some," said Noon. "I'm not stupid."
"Good," said Kyle. "The last thing we need right now is a wounded pirate to take care of."
"Show a little trust, my friend," said Noon. "This isn't my first rodeo."
Kyle stepped through the door, avoiding the obvious answer that beign that he was just recently written into existence, yes, this most definitely was his first rodeo.
----------
Kyle walked over to a nearby table and brought up a chair, setting himself right in front of, well, himself. It was unbelievable how similar the two looked, and yet there was a definite difference between them. It wasn't something that you could quite put a finger on, but the aura around the two characters was just different. Whereas Kyle seemed to emulate light, darkness seemed to soak into Alex like a sponge.
The pirate glared at the warrior, and in turn, the warrior glared back. They sat, motionless, each daring the other to make some kind of move, but both were infinitely stubborn. Minutes passed as they regarded each other, each struggling to comprehend the fact that his own twin was sitting directly across from him.
Finally, Kyle stood.
"What is this?" Asked Alex. "Some kind of game?"
"This," said Kyle. "Is a strange situation, to be sure."
"You've got that right," said Alex. "Who are you, anyway? One of Sadiq's apparisions? Or did we eventually kill him at some point?"
"I don't think we ever did," said Kyle. "But no, this is no trick. My name is Kyle Brogan, same as yours."
"Alex."
"What?"
"My name is Alex. I left my other name behind a long time ago."
Kyle thought back, and realized that, despite taking on nicknames like Bluehawk or Blade every so often, there had been only one time where he'd completely disregarded his given name.
"You're from Imperial City," said Kyle suddenly.
Alex gave him a glance. "Yeah, who told you?"
"No one," said Kyle. "I just know. And given that you're here, and I am, still, I'm guessing that you never did find that sniper who took your arm, either."
Alex just stared, a little dumbfounded. Not even his crew had known that he was, in fact, a cyborg. He'd always kept his arm covered with long sleeves and a long glove, implementing his power bracer as a means of hiding any strangeness in his movements.
There was no way that this man, no matter who he was, should know about it.
"I know," said Kyle. "Because I know where you're from."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You're a realm pirate, aren't you?" Asked Kyle. "And you travelled to Imperial City by shooting through the realmspace, even before you became a part of that pirate crew."
"I may have, why?"
"Because there are multiple realms," said Kyle. "There are bound to be different paths. You were once the Blue-Blade Warrior, but then something shifted. When you were taken to Imperial City, you diverged to a different version of our history."
"I don't get it," said Alex. "That shouldn't create another version of me just because I travelled through a portal."
"I don't really get it, either," said Kyle. "But it's the only thing that I can think of. Somewhere in the past, you made a choice that was different from the one that I made. Where I lost everything in Imperial and eventually was pulled back into the Subconscious, you chose to become a pirate."
Alex was silent for quite some time, but finally just looked up.
"So what?"
"Huh?"
"So what?" Repeated Alex. "This is all amazingly interesting and all that, but really, so what?"
Kyle exhaled, slowly, and then just cut to the chase.
"I need your help."
Alex started to genuinely laugh. "And you think I'm going to help you after you've tied me up and nearly shot my foot off? I've already got one mechanical limb, I have no desire to become even more of a freak show, thank you."
"Trust me," said Kyle. "If he'd wanted to shoot you, he wouldn't have missed."
"Well trust me," said Alex. "There's no way I'd help you out, even if you asked with a cherry on top."
Kyle started to pace a little.
"Look," he said. "If I don't do something, a lot of people are going to die, soon. But I can offer you something in return."
The pirate paused just before offering another refusal. The idea of getting something useful seemed to intrigue him.
"Like what?"
Kyle stepped forward, and sat down again.
"Noon's ship can take you to any place or time that you'd want to go."
"Really?"
"It doesn't use the same engine as your realmspace drive, and so it doesn't follow the same rules. Instead, it can truly go anywhere."
"I see," said Alex. "And what use is that to me?"
"I'm willing to drop you off wherever you'd like to go," said Kyle. "I just need your help."
Suddenly, however, the pirate's ropes loosened, and he leaped forward, spinning Kyle around and gripping him in a mechanical headlock.
"Sorry," said Alex. "But I think I'll just take the ship myself." Kyle struggled, but was thrown into unconsciousness. Alex then quickly rushed towards the door, which was currently opening. He smashed through it, sending Noon flying across the room. The pilot recovered, and came up with his twin pistols raised. He started to fire, the shots missing Alex by inches.
Alex barreled into the street, and didn't look back to see if Noon was following. He hoped that the pilot would go and check on Kyle, currently sleeping in the makeshift interrogation room.
The pirate captain rushed around a nearby corner, and pushed into the shadows, calming down his breathing. He knew that the pair would be after him again. It was only a matter of time.
----------
“Calm down, darling, I was just checking something.”
Alex heard the commotion just a little ways down the alleyway, nearby a very familiar-looking silver egg-pod. If that pod was nearby, then that meant that the ship may be nearby, as well. Alex moved closer.
It was obviously some kind of struggle, as a well-tattooed woman was looking to fend off the advances of a man who she obviously wasn't all too fond of.
She had found a solid piece of pipe on the alley floor, and held it up like sword.
“I do not like people touching me. Do I look like a ****ing goat to you? Is this a got**** petting zoo? You sheep raping country mother****er, if you touch me one more time. Just one more got**** time, I swear on every kimono in here that I will make your head look like a puzzle piece.”
Alex slowly crept closer as the two circled one another. Finally, Alex saw her face. It was the Khaleian prisoner who was in Hayder's room. If he could get into her good graces, perhaps he could use her as leverage to get Hayder to let him out of the Ascension permanently. An odd little plan began to formulate in the pirate's mind.
Eshu pulled from out of his bag a long piece of rope. “Sheep raping country mother****er? Let’s see who can lasso who first.”
Alex ran forward, and grabbed the man's collar, before tossing him into a nearby building.
"Well now," he said with a grin. "All this talk about lassos and tying people up is just getting me all kinds of excited."
IP: Logged
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Kidd and his men waited in their respective barracks as the pirates who had been given shore-leave evacuated the Ascension post-haste, as if the Captain would change his mind if they didn't get off the ship fast enough. Kidd laid back in his bunk, puffing on a long, wooden pipe that looked more like a golf club than a smoking device. He hummed a shanty under his breath, slowly and surprisingly musically for such a haggard sky-dog as himself. As he finished the last lilting refrains of the shanty he rapped his pipe against the side of his bunk, knocking the remaining tobacco and ash out in a small tin on the floor, before rolling out of bed and heading for the door.
As he made his way below decks to the hold, Kidd's men emerged from their rooms as he passed them, each one joining in tow until the procession of four found themselves descending some rickety stairs into the dank, shadowy heart of the ship. They silently threaded their way past a multitude of random objects one would only find in the hold of a sky-pirate ship. A well-secured box with over-sized hinges and a massive padlock with the word "danger" and a skull branded into the wood. A couple of half-damaged suits of exotic looking armor worn by straw-bundle mannequins. A fifteen foot long battering ram with an elaborately carved ram's head on one end. A whole array of wardrobes and trunks filled with overflow from Hayder's closet, and his seasonal apparel.
Finally Kidd and his men found themselves standing before a large metallic cylinder, hidden deep in the back area of the hold, in the shadows. Kidd walked up to the capsule, running his hand over the cool, smooth metal as he peeked through the window. Its occupant was still unconscious, or dead. Either way, it didn't matter to him. He knew he'd be able to find a buyer for the capsule in Zion, and he just might end up sweetening the deal by throwing in its occupant, if he was still alive, as some type of bonus-slave-combo-package with it. Kidd's men saw the greedy look in his eyes, and it spread to theirs as well, it was a good night to be a pirate.
They hadn't run into too much trouble beaming down into the red lantern district with the capsule, but transporting it through the narrow, crowded streets had proven to be a difficult and awkward affair. Kidd knew of several dealers and purveyors of "rare artifacts" in Zion, so as his men dragged the cylinder through the streets on a crude sled, huffing with effort, he was already thinking of the next shop he would take it to if the offer wasn't right. These merchants were always trying to get something for nothing, and Kidd wouldn't settle for anything less than he expected, which was the world.
He was thinking of what he would buy with all the gold he was going to make, when Kidd saw the Captain running towards him from up a side street.
Spine-belly Sam also noticed and spoke up, crying, "****! Get lost, guys, it's the Captain! He'll kill us if he finds us trying to sell booty without his leave!"
At his words the men looked fearfully towards the Captain's direction, the blood draining from their pallid faces. They scrambled over each other in their attempts to lose themselves in the milling mass of Zionians. Kidd, however, calmly stepped over to a nearby store-front and began perusing a bin full of what appeared to be rocks. A nearby shopper glanced over in Kidd's direction, taking note that the man's skin appeared to be growing darker and darker, until he looked exactly like a native Khaleian. The shopper looked down at the flask of celebration amber in his left hand and then turned it over and dumped it out, shaking his head groggily as he decided to call it a night.
Kidd walked inside the shop and acted like he was browsing as he spied through the window on what was going on outside. He saw a girl he recognized from the Ascension as one of the girls they had picked up, the one that Hayder had a thing for, come hurtling around a corner and trip over the capsule in the middle of the street. In her collision she had triggered the hatch-release mechanism, and all Kidd could do at that point was watch her examine the occupant of the capsule with what seemed to be a sense of recognition, before a large man appeared behind her and attempted to subdue the Khaleian girl. Kidd decided that the occupant of the capsule was undoubtedly connected to the prisoners they had picked up, and wondered what the connection was. And speaking of prisoners, as he saw the burly stranger struggling with Hayder's girl, he realized he had to step in and help her, because that bastard Hayder would somehow find out if he didn't, and while he didn't have an iota of respect for the first mate, he did fear his wrath.
The girl lashed out, arming herself with a pipe as she screamed threats savagely at the man. He had to hand it to her, she had spunk.
Kidd reached for the dirk on his belt, intending to barrel out of the shop and take the attacker by surprise, when he saw the Captain himself appear on the scene and roughly throw the sizable fellow into a nearby building.
The Squid reflected on the scene unraveling outside of the shop, realizing that he was going to be stuck inside for a good amount of time before the coast was clear. He looked around at the darkly lit racks of bottles lining the walls. It was a fine spirits shop. The perfect place to burn some time.
"Shop-keep, how about sharing a drink with me, my treat," Kidd said in his best Zionian accent, as he lifted a green bottle from a nearby shelf and held it up. "Have you got some spare tumblers lying around?"
The shop-keep flashed him a mainly toothless smile as he held up a pair of shallow, dingy glasses.
"Always, my friend. But first, gold or credit?"
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"Are you sure we're going the right way," Neko asked awkwardly as his sister dragged him by the wrist further into the red lantern district.
Several scantily clad women flashed him sultry looks, among other things, as he passed them in the street.
"Wanna spend the night with a REAL woman, sugar?" a particularly muscular and square-jawed one called at him, flexing her biceps. Neko's face shriveled in disgust.
"I mean, if Caspar IS here, maybe we should give him some time and come looking for him later. I don't want to...interrupt anything..." he trailed off haltingly.
"What are you talking about!?" Nekita growled over her shoulder, tugging harder on her brother's wrist. "Master Sudoku sent us here for a reason, and he said there wasn't a minute to spare, remember!?"
"Yeah...but..." Neko sputtered as they walked past a building with boarded windows that had a brightly lit sign in front depicting the words, "Illusiona-famous Donkey Show". He tried to mentally shut out the ghastly sounds emanating from the building's darkened interior as they passed by.
"C'mon Neko!" Nekita barked as she tugged him along behind her, apparently unaware of her surroundings as she focused on tracking Caspar.
Suddenly she stopped mid-stride, coming to a stop so quickly that Neko tripped over his own feet trying to stop in time before colliding with his sister.
"Hey, watch what you're doing, I almost ran into you!" Neko protested as he hauled himself back up off the ground. He shuddered to think of how dirty it was.
Nekita ignored him, slowly looking around her as if she was just realizing where they were. She peered speculatively off into the distance on her right.
"...the strangest feeling...like someone I used to know..." Neko heard her mumble under her breath.
She continued staring off into the darkness for a few moments before she resumed dragging him down the street behind her.
posted
For the most part, Angelus found herself at odds with the forces that made up the universe of the mindgame. Like the random encounter engine, for instance,which had once insisted on throwing out the same low level monster for Fenris to fight over and over and over again without bothering to give her any loot. Or fate. Fate was kind of obnoxious. And of course, luck, the cheeky irish bitch that she was, was none too fond of Angelus either, which was why the forces that made up the universe seemed to intentionally bend against the little angel often. But Angelus had always gotten on well with Happenstance, which was why, despite an hour of wandering around the Red Lantern district reminding the many perverted Zionese men that stopped her that Plasma did, in fact, leave burns, regardless of how much they wished it didn't, the little angel felt good. Because Happenstance had just made life so very easy. Unfortunately it had done so in the way of a sick joke. The little angel had just been wandering around a shopping district that seemed to have been composed of places that sold 'Rare and Valuable Magical Artifacts'(READ:Stolen crap with a few gimmicky magic properties that wouldn't get the shop owners in trouble with even the most fiercely anti-magic people) and one store that sold "Rare and Valuable Artifacts of a Nature that is not appropriate to discuss in polite company"(READ:F*** you, I'm not explaining that one if you didn't get it) when she heard a familiar voice shouting, as seemed to be the standard for that voice, some creative swears. “I do not like people touching me. Do I look like a ****ing goat to you? Is this a got**** petting zoo? You sheep raping country mother****er, if you touch me one more time. Just one more got**** time, I swear on every kimono in here that I will make your head look like a puzzle piece.” That was Lox. That was definitely Lox. It couldn't be anyone but Lox. If it was someone other than Lox the universe would actually force that person to become Lox. Angelus knew this with absolute certainty. And by the sound of it, she had just been touched inappropriately, which sent a wave of discomfort through Angelus. "Oh, F***," She said, not bothering to even watch herself, "If Esse finds out I let that happen I'm going to be defragmented before you can say..." “Sheep raping country mother****er? Let’s see who can lasso who first.” Angelus frowned, her eyes filling with fear. "Yeah...um, that." With that she burst into a full sprint, unfurling her wings and catching a lucky breeze that carried her around the corner just as Alex introduced the newcomer to a brick wall. "Well now," he said with a grin. "All this talk about lassos and tying people up is just getting me all kinds of excited." "What the hell kind of sick freaks are all of you!" She shouted, landing gently and staring in shock at the scene,"Seriously, I thought we were supposed to keep this...y'know, under NC-17, but this...this is just..." She couldn't finish, instead taking a moment to try to stop her left eye from twitching. Silently, the little angel thanked happenstance. At least now everyone was in one place. Then she cursed it, for making her afraid of what exactly they were going to DO now that they were in that place.
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Eshu had actively dodged two blows from the pipe that could have made him into an organ donor. The chick was not kidding, she meant to kill him if she could. But he wasn’t very concerned about her. She had good balance, sure, and a strong arm to wield a pipe when a knife would have been the more energy conscious option, but he could take a girl.
Eshu heard footsteps. Behind him a dark haired man came charging down the alley. He immediately cut his eyes at him and growled lowly to himself. Why was there always interference? And here he was so close to his goal.
"Well now," he said with a grin. "All this talk about lassos and tying people up is just getting me all kinds of excited."
The man grabbed him by his collar and slammed him into the wall like a big kid pinning the tail on the donkey. Eshu indignantly complemented this crushing wall smash with a direct right hook. He pushed the man away by the shoulders and took a blow to the side of his ear. "So we we're fighting dirty? Fine by me." Eshu sweep kicked Alex who immediately knee tackled him. They were on the ground grappling, which was Eshu's bread and butter because wrestling sans spandex and sombreros was Zion's national passtime. They alternately tried out a few head locks and arm holds on each other. All the while a buffedled Lox spectated. It occured to her to run away, but she couldn't leave Casper who she was alternately poking and shaking during the main event.
She decided to see who would win then try to scratch the victor's eyes out and make her great escape. But in the mean time she was enjoying the show. Watching two body builders tussel in an alley... Any woman would need a fan.
Lox’s face was priceless in confusion. “Are they really competing to kidnap someone? Where are we, drug running Columbia? These guys are way more DTF than their character profiles would suggest,” she muttered to herself. In fact, this was mind blowing because no one else’s characters got busy on the Illusion except for her own who were all lecherous without exception. She had suspected for a long time that the explanation of this was that all the other characters had Barbie parts. When did everyone else’s mind get as dirty as her own? Was it this Red Lantern sand? Was it possible that other Illusion characters thought about anything other than saving princesses and rounding up regalia? She felt that just around the corner KO was writing this all down on a legal pad, laughing out of earshot.
A sudden gust of wind ushered Angelus onto the scene. "What the hell kind of sick freaks are all of you?" she shouted, landing gently and staring in shock at the scene. The kind that gather in alleys, apparently. Birds of a feather flock together. "Seriously, I thought we were supposed to keep this...y'know, under NC-17, but this...this is just..."
Lox's eyes were shining. Alex's shirt had ripped open. “Amazing,” she said.
Eshu and Alex looked like they should be statues flanking fountains, because they were sculpted in perfect male beauty. The rope didn’t seem like a bad idea now. Was anybody into it? she wondered.
Then she had to laugh at her one tracked mindedness. And then she remembered Hayder. And then she felt bad and was glad she was wearing the necklace. Speaking of the necklace, she thought Angelus was looking for someone else, and she had underestimated her regenerative abilities. She seemed all better now. “I think something’s wrong with Caspar,” she said changing the subject.
“Butt out, and get your own girl,” Eshu said to Alex. They were taking a break from beating each other's brains out. Apparently, weaponless, they were pretty evenly matched. “I don't need you getting all riled up at the sight of a rope." He shook his head in disgust at Alex. "I swear you outsiders are the sickest people in Zion." He wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "I have seen what you guys do with one cup. It is unholy.” This was coming from a guy that spent his every Saturday in a collage of bosoms a few motels down.
“And since when do they have kids working in the District?” he added. “Shouldn’t you be in bed—“ that had come out wrong, “like between the sheets?” even worse, “waiting for daddy to—tuck you in?” All bad. All bad, he told himself.
Lox looked really tense. For one, she could not hold a straight face for this gangly lumberjack looking molester. For two she could not wake Caspar and was not sure how far she could carry him and run. For three, she did not like Alex. That had been firmly established. She had forgiven him for her near-death on his watch, but they were by no means friends. “Alex, go away.” She couldn’t decide who she wanted to hit more.
He took a step forward.
“She said, go away, so beat it,” Eshu said, squaring off for round two.
Lox tried to explain what was happening to Angelus. “This weird guy—”
“Eshu,” he said, growling.
“—bless you, dear, but speak when you’re spoken to—has been stalking me and I want him to leave me alone. I also don’t like Alex who is either trying to help me or take me or coordinate a ménage à trois or tie me up… or some strange combination of all those things.” She tried to shake out of her head a number of disturbing images. “Which is suspect because two guys and one girl is just… gay training wheels.”
“Enough of this. She’s mine. I saw her first,” Eshu said to any and everyone, unbuttoning his shirt. “You get in my way, I part you.”
“This is pretty kinky,” Lox said as an aside to Angelus. “I didn’t know all this could go down.”
But Eshu wasn’t doing a strip tease. He put his hands on his chest, completely littered with tattoos that could not be seen under his clothes, and suddenly a radiant gold suit of body armor stretched over his skin. He had activated it by touch. The armor laced around his entire body, covering even his face, until he looked like a man completely dipped in gold. Only the whites of his amber eyes showed through.
“Brace yourself,” Eshu rumbled. The tattoos on his body raised up in the gold and Eshu formed the idea of his native weapon.
“That’s my scythe,” Lox said shocked. Alex’s men had taken it from her as soon as she had boarded the ship. Now, here it was again almost from thin air, in the hands of a strange man.
“You wish,” Eshu said with a mean laugh.
He swung the blade at Alex, under no circumstances caring that the man seemed unarmed. “Not too late to back down, kid.”
His second slice, with the butt of his weapon, made contact.
posted
Sometimes Angelus was certain that their was a "just for laughs" generator that followed her around making weird situations. That would be the best way to explain how she found herself in situations just as this. Then again, she had to admit, if there was such a generator it was outdoing itself at the moment. Because in a million years she would have never imagined herself caught in what was, alternately, a fight to the death and a really badly structured series of innuendos. For a moment she could do nothing but stare in shock alongside Lox, until finally the other woman spoke. “I think something’s wrong with Caspar," She said, and for the first time Angelus registered that what she had taken to be a terrifying 3-way duel to the death/incredibly awkward attempt at flirting was, in fact, sort of just 2-way date rape. That actually managed to make her other eye start twitching. It really was not her day. "Yeah..." The little angel said, eventually finding herself, "I was wondering where he'd gotten off to. Any idea why he's passed out in a giant easter egg in the middle of the Date Rape District?" Angelus took a moment to register just how weird it was to be referencing Date Rape in a game that was, at least in theory, designed for children(messed up children, but children nonetheless) between the ages of six and fifteen, but then again, stranger things had happened. Lox was about to answer, but she was cut off by a rather loud statement about people being dirty with...cups, and before Angelus could steer the conversation back on course the new, heavily tattooed potential date rapist turned his attention to her. “And since when do they have kids working in the District?” he said. Angelus blinked, completely surprised for a moment. After all, she was designed to appear as a young girl with angel wings, the literal symbol of purity itself, so, in theory, there should be nothing sexual about her. Then she reminded herself that she was dealing with a human, and that they had managed to sexualize just about every damn thing to ever exist. "Excuse me," She said, not even bothering to hide her annoyance, "I'm not a..." Apparently her protest had fallen on deaf ears, as he just kept bowling through his attempts to figure out what she was doing here. “Shouldn’t you be in bed—“ The angel opened her mouth to protest, starting to blush slightly at the very idea he was suggesting. “like between the sheets?” Her face grew more red, as she waited for the chance to interject. “waiting for daddy to—tuck you in?” It was at that moment that the little angel decided that perhaps, in this case, she should go with her gut instead of her head. And her gut was telling her to light this guy up like a Christmas tree. She drew her bow into existence, but having already exhausted a significant amount of energy on equally perverted interlopers, she realized that the first bolt she managed to create with the bow would do little more than give this guy a nasty sunburn. She realized now that, at some point, she should have tried to get an actual physical weapon. As she thought about how exactly she would go about procuring such a weapon, given that she didn't actually have any money, Alex(or was it Kyle...she still didn't really have a handle on that whole situation) stepped in the way of her shot, forcing her to dissolve her bow and hope that someone else would turn the newcomer's face into a crunchy red paste. Angelus had, incorrectly, assumed that Lox would share this view, and was about to make a snarky comment about how seeing this new guy get reduced to a puddle would be the best turn of events to happen to the unlucky band in ages when Lox tersely asked Alex to leave. It was at this point that Angelus found herself wondering if maybe Lox was actually...y'know, looking for a..um...special friend...and that just made the whole situation uncomfortable. Seeing the little Angel's confusion Lox turned to explain things. Thankfully she seemed prepared to do so in full detail, which would slightly make up for the handicap Angelus was experiencing from lacking her telepathy. “This weird guy—” Lox started. "Eshu," The new guy interjected, though Angelus wasn't sure if that was actually a word. “—bless you, dear," Lox continued," and speak when you’re spoken to—has been stalking me and I want him to leave me alone. I also don’t like Alex who is either trying to help me or coordinate a ménage à trois or tie me up… or some strange combination of all those things.” As Lox shook her head, obviously in an attempt to drive off the strange, and likely confusing images in her head Angelus silently thanked the Is for having lost her mind reading. It was inconvenient not having it, but she had just been spared a few images that would have scarred her for her very long life. “Which is suspect because two guys and one girl is just… gay training wheels.” Lox finished, in what had been the worst explanation she had yet given. Angelus nodded, completely confused still, but at least understanding now that Lox wasn't looking for a...um...interesting time. "Yeah..." The angel said after a moment, trying to find some comfortable ground to stand on, "So basically what this amounts to is 'these two guys are incredibly sick and we should probably take Caspar away before they do something to him he wouldn't like', right?" She was starting to think that it might be a good idea to just go back to Cassandra's and drag Fenris as far away from these people as possible, lest they attempt to do something horrible and unsuitable for the delicate minds of children and people with decency to her. As she was finishing that thought 'Not a word name' guy started unbuttoning his shirt, causing Angelus to immediately wonder what OSC would think if he ever stumbled upon this thread. "This is pretty kinky," Lox said casually, "I didn't know all this could go down." "I think there's supposed to be failsafes to stop this, actually," Angelus said, "But I guess I shouldn't trust this game to do anything that it's supposed to." However, to the angel's relief, 'Excuse You'(Squish You? Whatever his totally ridiculous name was supposed to be...) was not trying to defeat Alex with the power of stripping. Instead he wrapped himself in some sort of magical golden armor, leaving himself looking like a very hipster statue come to life. "Brace yourself," He said, forming a scythe as he spoke. "That's my scythe," Lox said in shock, but the newcomer dismissed this before turning his attention back to beating Alex to a bloody pulp. Angelus, realizing that there was almost no point in her being there, turned to Lox, hoping to take advantage of this distraction. "So..." She said conspiratorially, "What do you say we take Caspar, save him from these pervs and see if Cassandra can wake him up and convince him to join our cause." She glanced at the unconscious...whatever he was...and frowned. "I'm sure he'd much prefer waking up to the surprise of everyone at her place to whatever these two had planned for him."
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Pan's last words echoed hauntingly in Caspar's mind, as if the Sprite somehow knew what was in store for him.
Caspar had wanted to respond, "Thanks, that's really helpful," but Pan's dematerialization had cut him off short. Which was just as well, because if he had said that to Pan, after everything Pan had done for him, he would've felt like a major a-hole.
He sat uncomfortably in the hammock for a moment as he wondered where exactly he was. He was just noticing that the ends of the hammock weren't attached to anything in particular, and starting to question how he was being supported when he felt the hammock go limp beneath him. It was like in those cartoons where the bad guy runs off the edge of a cliff but doesn't realize it, and doesn't actually fall until he does.
"Son of ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." he muttered spitefully, his voice rising to a scream at the end of his curse as he plunged down and down with the hammock tangled around him.
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Time was working against Cassandra. She was more painfully aware of that in this moment than she had been in a long, long time. As she watched the moon continue to rise she realized that time had been working against her all day, and now she was doing it the favor of being helpless. All she had manged, of late, was to recruit some allies who had abandoned her with their wounded. So now, instead of at least being out there trying to do something she was watching over a half-dead pirate, a touchy, but mostly alive thief, and a severely wounded warrior who was, from time to time,letting out unconscious growls as what looked like swarming black tendrils stitched her wounds back together. And realizing that time was working against her Cassandra made a decision. She was going to at least try to figure out what to do next. And despite the near boundless resources of her own collection, she knew that she wouldn't find the answers she sought here. So, realizing where she needed to be, she decided to make sure it was okay to go there. For a moment she thought awkwardly about what she was going to say. Then, finally, she mustered the courage to speak. "U...Um...Fenris..?" She said, failing to feign anything resembling bravery. The form of the fallen warrior turned it's head from the armchair it was resting in, opening one blazing golden eye. "What is it, morsel?" The wolf asked in it's many voices. As always it sounded angry, and quite like it wanted to tear Cassandra's flesh from her bones.It was the sound of all of Cassandra's nightmares, and she had to convince it to do her a favor. She wondered how Angelus ever managed to be so casual when talking to this...thing. "If we're going to stop Gadriel we're going to need some information," She said, "So I need to go to the library." The wolf narrowed Fenris' eye, glaring at the girl in confusion. "And what does this have to do with us?" It asked. Cassandra swallowed, not missing the hungry look that adorned Fenris' unconscious face. "I...uh...I need to know if you can take care of things here while I'm gone, y'know, in case someone...um...tries..," She stuttered, but the wolf cut her off. "We will kill any who enter here," It said, with all the calm of a man saying 'sure, hon, I'll take out the trash in just a second'. She gave an awkward smile, sliding slowly away from her desk and practically tiptoeing across the room, as if a sudden movement would tempt the wolf to hostility. Then she slid into the hall and sprinted out the door, deciding that she wanted to be anywhere but home.
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Iysi stood and waited patiently. Those who needed to talk the most were often the most hesitant at first, sometimes hostile. But if she waited long enough, patiently enough, they would bare their hearts to her. The metal man was no different.
“I haven’t got anything to talk about. Not that I can talk about with an old woman I don’t even know. No offense,” he said at first, but after some quiet moments, long moments, he continued. “It’s just that I don’t know how to explain it. Is my whole life a lie? Or am I just being lied to? Who do I believe when everything I know could be wrong, everything I’ve ever learned or thought or felt could just be some sort of pre-determined response? Ya know?”
This was the question Iysi had been waiting for. She had already thought about what to say even before coming to meet him. But to give him the time to ponder, she waited a moment before answering. "Skratch, that is one of the oldest questions in the universe. In every realm, people of every kind have been asking the same questions since the very beginning of existence. The fact that you are capable of asking the question proves that you are as much a man, as much alive, as any who might suggest otherwise. The choices you make are yours, and no one else's. And the consequences of those choices are yours as well. I know you know magic, and you are learning about life. You need to learn about love as well. Go home, find Regus. As much as any father loves a child, he can teach you what love is. And once you understand about love, you'll have the answers to your questions."
She continued standing by the bench, but expected Skratch would be ready to move on. Evil wasn't so hard to thwart, unless one tried to confront it head on, she thought.
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After Regus left the cafe, a wave of panic swept through the three travelers. They had no idea why this warrior was coming after them, and since Abedah hadn't learned how to teleport yet, they had no way out except through him. Before Jimmy had a chance to get into fighting position, though, the warrior turned and left. He was obviously after Regus for some reason.
The waiter came over, "Someone here's going to pay for the damage. Five hundred coin, and that's giving you a break, because I'm in a festive mood."
Jimmy handed over the money, and walked out. That would cover the mage's services. All that talk about doing his training for free. Right. Abedah ran out after him, with Pounce trailing behind. She hooked half the cheese on her way out, and stuck her tongue at the waiter as she left. "Where we goin'?" the cat asked.
"That little exchange cost me most of what I had left, so it's certainly not going to be an inn. I still think we should try to find a new gig on the next ship out of town."
"But what about Iysi's warning?" Pounce asked.
Abedah took a piece off the bit of cheese Pounce had and popped it in her mouth. Pounce hissed, but didn't react any further. Abedah hissed back. Jimmy turned his head and glared at them. "Is there a library around here?" Abedah asked. "I need to study up on some of the geography of this area, and some of the history. It might give me an idea of what's been going on that would make everyone so jumpy."
Jimmy thought for a moment. "There's one on the other side of town that's open all night, not too far from the docks. We have to pass by a part of town that's not very nice to get there, but if we stick together, we shouldn't have any problem."
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"What do you say we take Caspar, save him from these pervs and see if Cassandra can wake him up and convince him to join our cause."
He awoke at the sound of his name. He heard the words, like they were coming from somewhere far away. The voice was high-pitched, like a child's.
"I'm sure he'd much prefer waking up to the surprise of everyone at her place to whatever these two had planned for him."
His eyes slowly opened. Wherever he was, it was night-time, and it was loud. And, it smelled like a fish-market. And, floating directly over his head was a chicken with pink underwear, except it had human legs instead of chicken feet, and blue pigtails with little ribbons tied in them. Was he still dreaming?
"Hey, little chicken-girl," Caspar said, "you mind hovering somewhere else, I'm getting a free show here...I kinda feel like I'm about to get arrested now."
The chicken-girl rotated in the air to look at him.
"Yeah, you, ya mind--oh, you're Angelus. I guess that means I'm not dreaming, but seriously, have a little decency, I hardly know you, sheesh."
Caspar pushed off the ground and slowly and painfully stood up, pins and needles shrouded his sore muscles. After lying unconscious for days in the capsule without eating, Caspar was even scrawnier now, if it was even possible. He was bordering on stick-figure levels of scrawniness. He looked down at his body, and felt strangely like an upside-down exclamation point. How long had he been in there...again. A day? A week? Longer? He extricated himself from the capsule and began doing a series of stretches like he was about to run a race, and noticed that now his hand could almost completely encircle his ankle.
"Oh great, I'm skinnier. Now I can literally slip through someone's fingers. That ought to be use--."
He stopped talking as he looked over in the middle of the square to see what appeared to be Kyle being batted around like a piñata by a...golden god armed with a scythe? Caspar felt a pair of eyes on him and turned to his right, and there was Lox, bug-eyed, staring at him the same way a person would stare at a steak dinner, complete with table settings, a lit candle, and rose in a crystal vase, if they had just crapped it out.
"Oh, hey Lox! I didn't see you there. Cool, your hair's blue!" he said, before looking down at his shrunken physique, "yeah, I know, total stick-figure."
His stomach gurgled loudly, and almost seemed to form the words "feed me" with its painful howl.
"So, uh, do you guys wanna grab a bite to eat or--oh yeah, Kyle's fighting someone, I forgot, you know, Kyles will be Kyles, am I right?"
Caspar realized that he was rambling, that he had been rambling the whole time. He had a tendency to ramble when awaking from comas. Accepting that this was an appropriate situation, he continued rambling.
"So...should we help him?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Angelus as he did so. "You know, give him a bit of the ol' pew-pew!" he said, miming a bow and arrow.
The shop-keep, who was a verdant shade of forest green, looked at the proffered glass brimming with amber, cradled like a baby bird in Kidd's massive hands, and then looked at Kidd like he had just suggested they take turns setting their beards on fire.
"Oh, I...I don't know..." he stalled, looking down at his feet. Since when did he have six feet?
Kidd smiled at the Zionian who was swaying like a stalk of corn in the breeze. He himself was completely sober, one of the many benefits of the ink flowing through his veins. But he liked the way amber tasted. It reminded him he was alive. It also gave him an excuse to watch everything that was happening outside, without being seen. Including the skeletal boy finally awakening and removing himself from the capsule. Kidd made a mental note to torture him later, along with Spine Belly Sam, to see what he knew about the capsule. But for now, he had business to take care of. He had to throw the Captain off his trail.
He shrugged and downed both glasses, slamming them down on the counter, and pinching the gold coin he had bought the amber with in the first place, at the same time. The shop-keep was none the wiser, still staring at his feet, entranced. He was slowly wiggling his toes, his jaw slack with wonder.
"I like you, Ozzie, you're a funny guy," Kidd said, chuckling good-naturedly.
It was a good thing Ozzie was staring at his feet, because he would have really tripped out when he saw the ink diffusing from Kidd's skin, which changed from the darkest ebony to a pale pinkish-white. A black tattoo of a giant squid, its tentacles wrapped around what looked like a strange planet, seemed to appear on Kidd's chest as he regained his former complexion.
He glanced out the shop window as his Captain's opponent suddenly shrouded himself in armor and armed himself with a fierce looking weapon.
"I guess this is my cue, it was nice to meet you Ozzie," Kidd said as he drew his dirk in his right hand. He glanced back at the nearly incapacitated shop-keep, and the empty green bottle on the counter in front of him.
"Ah, what the heck," Kidd said, flicking the gold coin over his shoulder as he walked towards the doorway, he heard it clink into the depths of the green bottle satisfyingly as he exited the small shop.
Drawing his buckler with his left hand, the Squid prepared himself before lunging directly in to the action in time to block a blow from Eshu's scythe that was aimed for the Captain's right temple.
"Cap'n, watch yourself, this man tried to steal cargo from the Ascension, if he could do that, single-handedly, then there's no telling what he's capable of!" Kidd said convincingly.
Eshu knocked away Kidd's buckler skillfully with the hooked part of his scythe and charged forward, bringing his right shoulder down to bear.
"I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play, pirate, but you better leave while you still can," Eshu growled, his voice gaining a metallic edge as it echoed from out of his armor.
Kidd sidestepped Eshu's charging shoulder neatly, pinning Eshu's left arm with his buckler so that he couldn't swing the scythe, and simultaneously stabbed his dirk upwards towards Eshu's face. Its tip glanced off the armored mask part and stuck through the eye-hole into the roof of Eshu's helmet.
Eshu laughed boldly. "You won't get far fighting me like that. Your dirk can't even reach through my helmet slot."
Kidd grinned a devil's smile, licking his lips, "My dirk can't reach you, but I can!"
A stream of black ink coursed through the hollowed handle of his dirk, and shot through the hypodermic tunnel in his blade, erupting from the tip in a pressurized burst of syrupy obsidian liquid, completely coating Eshu's eyes with a sticky layer of midnight.
Eshu swung out blindly with his scythe, its gleaming edge whistling through the air as it searched for something soft to bifurcate. Kidd dodged and blocked with his buckler. "Get out of here, Captain, you're unarmed. I'll take care of this!"
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posted
“Enough of this. She’s mine. I saw her first,” Eshu said to any and everyone, unbuttoning his shirt.
Alex could see that this particular situation was perhaps a little more sticky than he had anticipated. This man who the Captain was looking to "save" Lox from was more durable than he looked. And he looked like a tank.
“You get in my way," finished the brute. "I part you.”
Alex still wasn't intimidated, despite the shirtless man's little show. After all, in unarmed combat, he trusted his arm. And his bracer would still offer him the advantage. This man may look like an ox, but Alex knew that he could rightly wrestle with one and win.
“This is pretty kinky,” Lox said as an aside to Angelus. “I didn’t know all this could go down.”
But Eshu wasn’t doing a strip tease. He put his hands on his chest, completely littered with tattoos that could not be seen under his clothes, and suddenly a radiant gold suit of body armor stretched over his skin. He had activated it by touch. The armor laced around his entire body, covering even his face, until he looked like a man completely dipped in gold. Only the whites of his amber eyes showed through.
This was a little more than Alex was ready for.
“Brace yourself,” Eshu rumbled. The tattoos on his body raised up in the gold and Eshu formed the idea of his native weapon.
“That’s my scythe,” Lox said, shocked. Alex made a mental note to look through the ship and find the idiot who had allowed such a valuable piece of hardware to escape from the ship's hold. More than likely, now that he thought about it, it was the same idiots who had sought to sell off the capsule that now lay shining in the street.
He swung the blade at Alex, under no circumstances caring that the man seemed unarmed. “Not too late to back down, kid.” Alex dodged to the right, the blade carving around him with lightning speed.
The man's second slice, with the butt of his weapon, made contact.
Alex was thrown to the side, spinning to the cobblestone, as a sizeable bruise began to form on his right cheek. He cursed that he'd lost his blade. No true pirate should be without his weapon, and this fight was beginning to look one-sided.
"You done with your little hero game, kid?" Said the brute.
Alex rubbed his jaw, and then spat blood onto the street before standing upright, into a battle-stance.
"I don't need fancy inks to put you to the dirt, you bast***."
Eshu advanced, looking for an easy kill, but Alex was still no slouch. The scythe came down again, but Alex sidestepped, though the weapon still caught the front of his shirt, slicing it open. Damn it. Another shirt ruined on this idiotic escapade. Alex spun in response, holding the scythe down as he elbowed the armored man right in the face. The inexplicable sound of metal striking metal was out of place as Alex's mechanical arm contacted.
Even through the slits of his helmet, Eshu's face showed surprise, and Alex grinned slightly.
"You're not the only man with secrets," he said calmly, and mule-kicked the man in the gut.
Eshu was thrown back, but recovered quickly. Alex advanced, looking to pummel his opponent again, but the armored brute was faster than he looked, spinning under Alex's strikes and catching one of his feet, tossing him back to the dirt.
"Sure," said Eshu with a laugh. "But my secrets are far more interesting than a little metal plate on my arm."
Well Alex, thought the pirate Captain. This is a stupid place to be. Nice work there. Way to get yourself killed by some moron with a stolen scythe. Stolen from your own ship! Don't know what irony means, exactly, but I'd imagine this is pretty close.
And then a little miracle happened.
Eshu's finishing blow was caught by an unfamiliar buckler, and deflected admirably.
"Cap'n, watch yourself, this man tried to steal cargo from the Ascension."
Alex looked up at his savior, and realized that it was a member of his crew. He wasn't sure of the name, but he was pretty sure there was a Squid involved.
"If he could do that single-handedly," continued Kidd. Then there's no telling what he's capable of!"
Kid Squid? Squid Kid? Something to that effect. So many of the pirates had taken pretty colorful names that Alex sometimes felt a little out of place, thinking he should have called himself "Blackbeard Alex" or something to that effect. But, then again, being that he couldn't grow a beard to save his life, that title may have been a little out of place.
Eshu knocked away Kidd's buckler skillfully with the hooked part of his scythe and charged forward, bringing his right shoulder down to bear.
"I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play, pirate, but you better leave while you still can," Eshu growled, his voice gaining a metallic edge as it echoed from out of his armor.
Kidd sidestepped Eshu's charging shoulder neatly, pinning Eshu's left arm with his buckler so that he couldn't swing the scythe, and simultaneously stabbed his dirk upwards towards Eshu's face. Its tip glanced off the armored mask part and stuck through the eye-hole into the roof of Eshu's helmet.
Eshu laughed boldly. "You won't get far fighting me like that. Your dirk can't even reach through my helmet slot."
Kidd grinned a devil's smile, licking his lips, "My dirk can't reach you, but I can!"
A stream of black ink coursed through the hollowed handle of his dirk, and shot through the hypodermic tunnel in his blade, erupting from the tip in a pressurized burst of syrupy obsidian liquid, completely coating Eshu's eyes with a sticky layer of midnight.
Eshu swung out blindly with his scythe, its gleaming edge whistling through the air as it searched for something soft to bifurcate. Kidd dodged and blocked with his buckler. "Get out of here, Captain, you're unarmed. I'll take care of this!"
Alex knew better than to argue. He hadn't exactly been fighting well, and without his sword, he was little more than a liability. There was always a time to fight and a time for flight, and this was one of the latter. With a brief glance of thanks, he backed away, down to a shadowed corner.
Trying to slow his breathing, he turned the corner and started walking down the street, hoping he wasn't being followed.
The ominous click of a familiar pistol at his back confirmed his paranoia.
posted
Angelus had changed her mind.She wasn't happy with happenstance. Not happy at all. Happenstance was being kind of a jerk today, actually. She would most certainly not be inviting him to go bowling on thursdays anymore, at least if he kept up that attitude. She took a moment to assess the situation. At present she had just been humiliated by carelessness on her part, had just had to listen to Caspar babble for several minutes, and had then watched as a new combatant joined the most homoerotic battle she had ever endured. She was in the middle of trying to decide whether Kidd's ink show was really just a really dirty metaphor when she realized that Caspar was speaking directly to her. "So...should we help him?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Angelus as he did so. "You know, give him a bit of the ol' pew-pew!" he said, miming a bow and arrow. She frowned, slapping her hand against her forehead. This was going to be relatively annoying to explain, mostly because it made her force her own failure again. She was kind of getting tired of having humble pie stuffed into her face. It was bitter to begin with, and the flavor only got worse with additional helpings. "No," She said, "For a couple of reasons. Firstly, that's Alex, who is...I don't really know actually...point is, he's not Kyle...except he is...but he's not OUR Kyle, and we don't like him. So no." She rolled her eyes, bracing herself for the frustrating second part of her explanation. "Secondly, I kind of, um...." She frowned, embarrassed at her sudden lack of power. After all, she had been on a tier above the rest of the adventurers before, but now she was nothing more than a little girl with wings. A frustrated, slightly scared little girl in a town she knew nothing about. "Lost my powers..." She said sheepishly, her voice little more than a whisper. Eventually she found her proper voice again and continued, though she was still obviously embarrassed. "I mean, I can still shoot plasma arrows, but right now they don't have any bite,"She said, "So I'd be more of a hindrance than a help. Besides that, it looks like Kyle's got enough help already." She gestured towards Kidd, wondering just who this new guy was, and how poorly he had done in the powers lottery to have gotten "shooting ink out of a sword" as one of his main abilities.
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posted
"So..." Angelus said, "What do you say we take Caspar, save him from these pervs and see if Cassandra can wake him up and convince him to join our cause?"
Lox stared at Angelus blankly for a moment, processing that.
She wondered how Cassandra could wake Caspar any better than they could since her hands were already full with a very battered Frey and a berserk Fenris. She assumed that these two were still down for the count, for if they weren’t they would certainly be with Angelus. Lox assessed the winged girl’s slight frame. She was actually quite petite. There was no way she could pick up Caspar. Though he was very thin, he was still larger than she was. Unless Angelus was secretly an ant, Lox would have to hoist Caspar and carry him all the way back to Cassandra’s apartment herself, while trying to out run an alleged perv who had now upgraded himself to bionic perv.
"I'm sure he'd much prefer waking up to the surprise of everyone at her place to whatever these two had planned for him."
Yes, the surprise of demonic possession really got Lox’s juices flowing.
In the interval of her logistical organization, Caspar came back to life.
"Hey, little chicken-girl," Lox jumped, in surprise as the slender fellow’s turquoise eyes opened wearily. "You mind hovering somewhere else? I'm getting a free show here... I kinda feel like I'm about to get arrested now."
Lox laughed to herself as Angelus made a modest effort to be more modest.
"Yeah, you, ya mind—oh, you're Angelus. I guess that means I'm not dreaming, but seriously, have a little decency, I hardly know you, sheesh."
Lox couldn’t hold it. “You are too young to be wearing granny panties, Angelus. You look great, Caspar. You’ve been doing the Weight Watchers I see?”
“Oh great, I'm skinnier. Now I can literally slip through someone's fingers. That ought to be use—”
Lox was just staring at Caspar. She had a bad habit of this, she knew, but she could not disguise her concern. He was so thin he was see-through. His skin was almost as translucent as a plum’s and she could see the veins in his body working together, dark blue railways crossing over his chest, the raised arteries in his arms, a thin cyan line at his temples almost beating with his pulse.
"Oh, hey Lox! I didn't see you there. Cool, your hair's blue!" he said.
“An apparent side effect of being Khaleian in Zion, they just hand these wigs out at the entrance,” she said good-naturedly.
Simultaneously, she self-consciously ran her hands through the indigo waves of her hair and remembered that she, too, was a strange looking person and really had no business looking at anyone strangely.
"Yeah, I know, total stick-figure," said Caspar assessing himself. His stomach caterwauled. "So, uh, do you guys wanna grab a bite to eat or—oh yeah, Kyle's fighting someone, I forgot, you know, Kyles will be Kyles, am I right?"
“True facts,” Lox said. She had never seen Kyle turn down a fight. “But that’s Alex which is dark Kyle. It’s easy to get them confused. I think they go to the same barber.”
"So...should we help him?" Caspar asked Lox and Angelus. "You know, give him a bit of the ol' pew-pew!" he said, miming a bow and arrow.
Lox shook her head church-usher style, slightly and quietly, and put her hand on Caspar’s expert faux bow. Though Caspar would make a striking Robin Hood, Angelus was extremely proud. She couldn’t take being picked on, even if the slight was only perceived and not intentional, and she had just shown her bloomers to the world. She certainly wouldn’t want to pile on top of that the admission that her powers had been slightly reduced.
An unfamiliar voice cut in. "Cap'n, watch yourself, this man tried to steal cargo from the Ascension,” a very unusual man said. He had approached from a shifty looking store and he smelled, like almost everything in the area, like amber. “If he could do that, single-handedly,” he went on, “then there's no telling what he's capable of!"
Eshu was livid. He as being accused of stealing. That would have been fine, if he were stealing. Eshu and Alex paused their entanglement, switching dance partners. Eshu and Kidd began battling.
Lox rolled her eyes. At first this spectacle of glittering male bodies was fascinating. Now that one of them had turned into a disco ball it had lost its appeal. She had to admit, though, Eshu could get down. He was determined.
"I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play, pirate, but you better leave while you still can," Eshu growled, his voice gaining a metallic edge as it echoed from out of his armor.
Kidd stuffed his bracer into Eshu’s helmet. It was getting ugly. But it was becoming increasingly more impossible for her to look at Eshu and not see that he was a living, breathing, rap chain.
Eshu laughed boldly, a familiar laugh because just at that moment Lox had laughed and it had carried the same sarcastic pitch. "You won't get far fighting me like that. Your dirk can't even reach through my helmet slot."
Kidd smirked, wetting his lips, "My dirk can't reach you, but I can!"
Lox watched as Kidd dumped a greasy black substance into Eshu’s eyes.
The man doubled over in agony, grabbing his face.
“Yeah, it’s time to go,” Lox said. Now that the threat of Eshu was neutralized and Alex had scurried off to do whatever it is that Alex does when he’s not being a pirate, they needed to make an escape before they were covered in toner.
Angelus had just gotten around to explaining to Caspar why Lox had his hands in a vice grip.
"No," Angelus mourned. "For a couple of reasons. Firstly, that's Alex, who is...I don't really know actually...point is, he's not Kyle...except he is...but he's not OUR Kyle, and we don't like him. So no."
Then for a moment Lox thought Angelus was about to cry. She wondered if in all of Angelus’s travels if she had never dealt with an actual human being. A human being who did not have powers. And if that experience had not taught her anything about what it is to be ‘average’ and how even powerless people are actually quite resilient. Perhaps Lox was the only one who knew this, only recently being thrust into an arena where flying and plasma were possible, and yet in the absence of that had still managing to face her everyday life fulfilled.
"Secondly, I kind of, um...."
“Are you about to come out to us?” Lox asked.
Angelus frowned, embarrassed.
"Lost my powers..." She said this as if she were breaking the news to Lox and Caspar that the divorce had nothing to do with them.
"I mean, I can still shoot plasma arrows, but right now they don't have any bite. So I'd be more hindrance than help. Besides that, it looks like Kyle's got enough help already."
“Agreed,” Lox said. She had grabbed Caspar by the arm and was leading him down the alley as she spoke. She wouldn’t bother grabbing Angelus because she might take it the wrong way, but she had to herd these cats or it was going to be ink poisoning for them all.
Before the two could protest, she crowded them onto a trolley that seemed to be powered by nothing and driven by no one. Once they had safely taken their seats, Lox looked out of the window, watching the scene of the fight disappear behind them.
They were safe now, at least, and no matter where they were going it was better than where they had been. The festival was beautiful. There were light shows everywhere and people crowded close to the bus but it seemed impossible for it to hit anyone or anything. It was as if there were a buffer in front of it that moved peope out of the way. Lox lit one of Pierre’s cigarettes and looked out of the window thoughtfully. There was no glass in the window, but the air inside the trolley was cooler than the air outside.
“I’m glad you’re alive, Caspar,” Lox said at length. “I know that’s weird to say but I thought you were really gone or that you had just been smart enough to avoid being grabbed like the rest of us.”
“Next stop Sankara Plaza!”
They rode on. Lox wasn’t sure where they should stop or where they should go. If they were to go to Cassandra’s, how would they even know how to get there.
“Final stop ladies and gentleman. The Hallowed Temple of Nyx.”
“Nyx,” Lox said. “That’s a big goddess.”
A rider scuffed. “The big goddess.”
“Right,” Lox replied, covering up the crown on her hand, which apparently had belonged to her.
They got off the trolley as it coming to a halt like a tired dragon.
They were strolling now. Not sure where to go, but sure they had to keep going.
This was obviously a well-preserved side of town. It was on large, high hill so that they could see the bustle of the inner city but from afar. Above them the sky was full of stars and the air was heavy with drums and the sounds of merry making.
The ground was smooth, reflective marble. It was as if you were walking on your reflection. Some generations of people had gone through great trouble keeping this square with its incredibly symmetrical architecture immaculate. It had an ancient feel to it but it was very much alive. The buildings were enchanting looking pyramids that were flat or domed on the top. The sense was that this was a respected place, but people were allowed to be here. It was inviting and yet intimidating. Someone played a flute.
Rows of statues of gods and heroes lined the street in orderly fashion. Some were winged, holding books or globes. Others were simple, holding wands, telescopes. The intersection of magic and science was here, beauty and knowledge. All of them of different sizes and shapes, some even appeared to be children. There were average people scattered in with what were obviously deities, clutching bundles of thunder or carving the planets out of nothing. They were witty and beautiful, shaped by an expert hand.
But what probably mattered most here was food and though Lox could smell it, and from the hypnotized look on Caspar’s face, he could, too, she couldn’t see it.
“Please, sir,” Lox said to a passerby. “Is there anywhere we could eat around here?”
“The Morani,” he said. She didn’t understand. “The Morani Library, right there. It has a café.”
The Morani was more beautiful inside. She had somehow expected that it would have a pointed ceiling since so many of the buildings around looked triangular, but the ceiling was an extraordinarily high, continuous graceful arch. She felt like she was looking at the world upside down in the dome. It was slick, like a white mirror. It produced an Escher effect so that the millions of stacks of black and white marble shelves looked like chess squares on a huge, circular board.
“I can’t believe you’re eating all that.” Lox was intrigued and mystified by Caspar’s order. He had ordered three full meals and had insisted that he got three full drinks as well. It also came with three half loves of warm bread, which she suspected he would inhale. She had reached for the butter, but she could have sworn she heard a low growl.
Lox was working through a delicious bowl of yams, rice, and chicken. The food in Zion, even the not spicy food, was spicy. Lox was afraid Caspar would swallow the bottle of hot sauce the clerk had handed him.
She wished she could have thought of something to say to Angelus, but she seemed so nervous. And as usual, Lox never knew what to say to her so she kept quiet.
Despite the reflections, an unfamiliar Eastlander slipped by them unseen. Perhaps she had been tracking them since they left Cassandra’s place. Lox felt eyes on her, the same way she had felt when she was entering the apartment. The woman was stealthy, purposeful.
“Cassandra,” Lox sighed, not knowing the name would send off alarms. She was absently dipping her bread into the hot chocolate drink she had ordered. “Do you think Cassandra has thought of where Ramus might be?” She was listing again, going through a process of thought, trying to work her way though this problem.
“Maybe I should try to find out where Hayder is, instead. Working backward, Acel is wherever Hayder is. Acel wants to see Ramus fall, so he would keep close tabs, no? Ramus is undercover, but we know Acel is a famous politician, which means he’s a public figure. Public figures always have files on them. If we find Acel we can find Ramus.” That settled it.
“I think I’m going to apply for a library card,” she said. “Have a look around.” She stretched and got up padding off into the stacks.
posted
Arael landed coughing, smoke blind, and confused in a room he couldn’t see. But one thing he did know was that the landing zone he had dropped in on was the most comfortable he had felt in four years. He rubbed the smoke from his eyes and slowly, hazily the room started to reveal itself. He was sitting on an overstuffed red couch. The walls were papered red and pink, but peeling away at the corners. The floor was hard, dark brown wood. There were two nightstand tables sporting low level lamps, on which Arael could see no obvious power source. And in the middle of it all was a large, fluffy, heart shaped bed. Leaning against the far wall, looking extremely satisfied with himself, was Regus.
“The stinging will wear off soon. Quite frankly I’d gotten so used to it I forgot it hurt.”
“Thanks for the warning.” replied Arael.
“Don’t mention it. Besides, I need you focused for this.” Arael stopped rubbing his eyes and shot a sidelong glance at the bed, then looked back at Regus and arched a wary eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Regus said. “I need you in the right frame of mind so I can find out what the hell is going on, because as far as I understand it Skratch set a bounty hunter on me. Am I about right?” he grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and sat on it backwards.
Arael stopped rubbing his eyes and switched to profuse blinking. “Not really. Skratch just told me where to find you. I was the one asking around. Someone wants to see you, very badly.”
“I told you already I’m not this Ramus person. And if Skratch didn’t send you then who did?”
“A patron.” Arael said.
“What kind?”
“One who would probably prefer his privacy.” said Arael, the room finally coming into full focus.
“Well here’s the thing. I’m going to find out who sent you one way or the other. So you can either tell me, or I’ll have to extract the information more…directly.” said Regus.
“If you think I can’t cope with torture you’re going to be sorely disappointed. I’ve been trained to withstand quite a bit.”
Regus smiled. “You see, that’s the beauty of being a full mage, especially one as old as me. You learn certain ways to avoid torture. Or the cooperation of your subject entirely for that matter. So are you going to tell me? Or do I get to have fun?”
“Bite me.”
“Nothing that dramatic. But you are going to sleep now.” Regus said a few magic words into his hand, and a cloud began to grow. It wasn’t dark or ominous like the story cloud, but white and fluffy. Cute like out of a children’s book. Arael barely had time to react when it crashed head on into his face. He fell gracelessly off of the sofa and onto the floor. Regus stood and lifted him into a fireman’s carry, unceremoniously tossing him on the bed. It was only then that he noticed the bulge underneath his shirt. Curiosity overcoming whatever propriety was left in this situation; Regus ripped the shirt apart to get a better look. What he saw was not what he was expecting. A set of wiry wings jutted from his back, bruised and broken in places, but unmistakable nonetheless.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Quickly Regus placed his left hand on the neck of what he now knew to be a Sentinel, applied pressure, and entered his mind.
He had thoughts of doubt. He had spent the last hour or so hating Regus, then deciding not to hate him before changing his mind like a schoolgirl tearing petals off of a flower. If he really was just an automaton, just some mindless attraction for Regus’ profit, then why would he give him anxiety like this?
Because I’m not a mindless machine.
He stood up and began to walk out of the square, the red lanterns in the distance pointing the way home. Before he left he turned, and not knowing the protocol for this kind of situation, bowed to the old woman. For some reason, somehow, it just felt right.
“Thank you.” He smiled thoughtfully. Then he turned, and made his way back to his home, and by extension, back to his life.
A Sentinel. Of course his bounty hunter would be a Sentinel. Nothing else had been simple tonight, so why would this?
Regus walked through the cavern that was his subject’s mind. It was flat and level as far as Regus could tell, and extended further than he could see in any direction. The entire place was also a mind-meltingly dull shade of egg shell white. Off in the distance, he saw a small point of color near the horizon. Well, what might have been the horizon anyway. Lacking any other kind of direction, the sprite version of Regus, the Regus thought bubble if you will, headed toward that speck.
Before long it was clear that the speck was further away than Regus had guessed. It was as if every step he took towards it the speck urged itself moved backward just that much more. In fact, he was sure that was what it was doing. On a whim, he burst into a sprint toward his target, and within fifty yards of running, the speck had become a dot, and the dot had faded into nothing. Undeterred Regus kept his pace. A few minutes of exertion later he began to suspect he was being followed. He slowed his pace to a jog, then into a walk, and turned around.
The speck was staring at him.
Only now what he had thought was a speck had grown much larger, now closer matching a two story house. What was more, the surface rippled, like some great opaque mass of jello. It was alternately orange and light blue, and was unmistakable against the stark white backdrop. Regus walked up to it and found that it still mimicked his steps, except this time every step he took toward the blob, it rolled closer to him. Experimentally, he tapped it where the surface was blue. His hand shot back as if he had gut punched a trampoline. He stepped sideways, taking note that as he stepped to the right, the ball moved to the left, and vice versa. He eventually found himself at a point where the great ball was bright orange, and cautiously pressed his hand to it. His hand shot out from under him, and his face impacted a blue section of the globe, sending him reeling back like the trampoline was retaliating to being rapped.
“This is why I hate Sentinel minds. Their damn Gran-“
“-Varoa.” answered a familiar voice from the void. Regus turned; already knowing who it was the voice would belong to. What he didn’t expect was what the body of the voice would look like. His hunter was disheveled and dirty, his wings a skeleton of what they should have been. His projection however, was perfect. It wore black trousers and a formal looking silver tunic. His hair was perfectly kept, short and military. The eyes were sharp, and protruding from his back was a pair of giant wings, resplendent and white, reaching from the man’s head to almost dragging along the ground. Compared with the reality, the projection was staggering.
“The Gran Varoa, or Grand Mind.” It continued. “The long passed down art of mental protection, taught to all Sentinels, but mastered only by those few who left their kingdom to serve.” He stopped long enough to admire the infuriatingly mobile sphere. “And unique to every Sentinel.”
Regus sat up, sitting cross legged on the ground. He had hoped that since he knocked out the Sentinel, he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this. The few he had ever entered were annoying to crack, what was in front of him was downright absurd. As if hearing his thoughts, the Sentinel continued.
“If I’m here, that must mean the real Arael is unconscious, or at least unable to control his own mind anymore.”
This part confused Regus. “If you aren’t the real Arael,” he said, getting used to the name of his assailant, “then what in Nyx’s great name are you?”
“Most Sentinels who learn the Gran Varoa do so out of necessity, and once they feel they are secure they leave the barriers be, calling upon them in times of need. A select few, either talented or paranoid, usually both, take it upon themselves to separate a piece of their mind, to train it so that even when unconscious, the Gran Varoa would stop intruders. Since I am here, and you are on your ass, I can only assume the waking Arael was wise to take these precautions.”
“So you’re the annoying read me. Gotcha.” Regus stood up and dusted himself off. “Any chance you know how to get in?”
“It was designed specifically not to have a way to get in.”
“So are you going to try to stop me from getting in?”
“I’m really just a recording. If you like I can offer the occasional encouraging maxim?”
Skratch made his way through the Red Lantern district. It was unsavory, but it was where Regus was. About five steps outside the park he’d just been in, he had forgotten he didn’t really know where Regus was, and being Festival night, he was going to be out late. So being the thinking being he’d newly accepted himself as he’d stopped at an inn used the bathroom, filling the sink with water and ignoring the stares from patrons who wondered why an artificial man might need to use the bathroom and what he might leak.
Scrying Regus, he had discovered him in a house of ill-repute. He watched while Regus had knocked out that man that had talked to him in the park, and was now standing over him, eyes closed, hand on the man’s neck. He was inside his mind. Skratch turned and left, thanking the innkeeper and oddly enough turning down a proposition from a bold and beautiful woman who said she functioned as a universal outlet.
Half an hour later, Regus had been bounced and flung in at least three dozen different directions at least five dozen different times. His bruises were starting to catch up too.
“Close one. I really thought you had it that time.” said Arael’s magic answering machine.
Oh how I long for a fireball. thought Regus. He had quickly discovered he couldn’t work any magic in this dream state. Response center Ken had offered an explanation, but a scowl held him to a triumphant smile. He was midway through thinking he could just stare the globe of malice into cooperation when an unexpected voice interrupted.
“You know, the dude in the corner had a remote in his back pocket.”
Regus turned and saw Skratch, or at least Skratch’s avatar of himself, standing next to Arael, wielding a hand sized remote with one big red button on it.
“You know, I wouldn’t need it if you hadn’t set him on me in the first place.” said Regus.
Skratch shrugged and smiled. “You do crazy things when having an existential crisis and contemplating the nature of existence. Besides, he asked.”
“Interesting night I take it?”
“Extremely. “
“Excellent. It’s good to have nights so epic you question existence. Makes you feel alive.”
“You have no idea.” said Skratch.
Regus smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder before taking the remote and waving it in front of Arael’s simulacra. “Made not to be opened eh?”
“I never said it couldn’t be opened. Just that it was made not to.” He shrugged.
“Right.” Regus pointed the remote at the ball and hit the button. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting to happen. The ball stopped shivering and went rigid, like someone had blown a dog whistle. The blue and red bits began to shift and meld until the ball had two distinct halves, one of blue and one of orange. Then, each half dissolved into smaller balls, thousands of them. The blue ones hit the ground and shot off into the distance, bouncing until they went past the reach of Regus’ view. As soon as the orange ones hit the ground they sped off into the distance, some leaving scorch marks on the otherwise pristine white surface as they went. What was inside the ball was a pillar, and a small, lidless cube rested on top of it.
Oh what fresh hell is this?
Regus walked up to the cube and hefted it in his hand. It had a good weight to it, more than you would think just looking at it. And the box seemed to shift, like a storm front swirling around its edges. He shook it, dropped it, picked it up and listened for the ocean, all doing nothing to assure him he wouldn’t be better off cutting some of Arael’s thumbs.
“Is there a remote for this one too?” he asked. Or he tried to ask. When he got to “thi-” the world around him churned violently, and he was assaulted with a barrage of feelings, of memories. This Sentinel had turned his own mind into a trap. He saw a young boy, curiously wingless, running through a small village. He saw a young man being awarded a medal he knew was for service above the call of duty. There was a woman with beautiful green eyes in a red dress, and a giant lion with part of a leg hanging out of its mouth. For what seemed like ages Regus lived Arael’s life in flashes of emotion, each like a battering ram to his chest. Here he was drowning in a dungeon; there he was leading an army. He was captured by werewolves, he was returned home only to be cast out. Regus felt each feather being torn from Arael’s wings like they were his own. What was worse though was he could feel the boundless anger, the shame at being deemed unfit, a traitor. Then he was alone. The blackness was crushing at first, but soon it became more of a numbness, and he felt watched. A voice spoke to him, the voice of a deity. It told him such things. That he could be saved, but that the all powerful being with him would not, could not do that for him. That his life was controlled by this power, but still bound to be changed by his own decision. He was trapped, and Regus thought he would go mad, prayed that he would even.
Soon his vision returned, and he knelt on the ground and wept. He cursed the Sentinel for forcing him to see that, to experience it. Through the sobs he heard footsteps echoing through the void they occupied, and a voice calling out to him.
“It’s a terrible thing, to do that to a person. But you insisted on answers.” said the real Arael. Regus could plainly see that it was the real. His wings were skeletal again, his clothing ripped and dirtied. The eyes were still sharp and intelligent, knowing.
“So now you see why I hunted you. My patron wants this Ramus. He has promised to return my body to what it once was. So that when I walk the streets, I don’t have to hide what I’ve become. I am sorry I’ve had to do this to you, but you needed to know. I will leave now, and continue searching. You won’t find any other traps here.”
In a flash of light Regus was back in his room. He was on the ground, sweating. Skratch was kneeling at his side. Arael was nowhere to be seen. “What did he do to you?” demanded Skratch. “He threw me out of his mind. He said he didn’t want me to experience what you had to. He said you had to understand, that it was the only way. What. Happened.” His voice was on the edge of panic.
“I lived his life.” Regus managed to get out. He realized he was still shaking. “In minutes I saw everything that ever made him emotional. All the wonders, all the pride, and every dark and angry thought or feeling he has ever experienced, I know. Or at least, I did while it was happening. I can only remember bits and pieces, odds and ends. What he did to you was a kindness Skratch. I would never wish that on anyone.”
“Well we’ve got to find him! We’ve got to teach him a lesson!”
“No Skratch. Nothing I could ever do would hurt him more than his own people already have. But we do have to find him.”
“Why?”
“To help him. With every fiber of my being I am going to help him find this Ramus. And we are going to fix things.”
“I don’t understand Regus. The man just assaulted you!” said Skratch.
“I know old friend. But trust me when I say this is the least I can do to help him.”
Arael walked through the streets of the Red Lantern district. He’d seen places like this before, devoid of morality for the price of pleasure. People could claim to be civilized all they wanted, but they still came here in the dead of night, to bed a mistress or a senator, to bury shame or to reveal it.
Arael hated it.
In his aimless wanderings he eventually made it to what seemed like the seedy part of the district…or at least the seedier part. He heard a woman cry in an alley.
“Don’t you touch me!” she yelled.
A man with a gruff voice called back. “You walk through this part of town you pay a price. And on Festival night our fees double. And we only take one kind of payment from women like you here.” Arael heard a belt unbuckle. In a flash he had his sword drawn, scattering the people on the street proper. In seconds he found the man, cornering a young woman in the alley. She was still a kid, probably not even a score of seasons old.
In an instant he was behind the man, hand crushing his shoulder, sword around his throat. “Think very carefully about what you say to this woman next mongrel. Because I swear to you they will be your last words. You may as well apologize before we leave you in the gutter, drowning in your own filth.”
posted
Cassandra sighed as she lifted her head from the stack of scrolls she was looking over. She has spent most of her time since getting to the library pouring over every map of Zion she could find, showing every way the land could be arranged. She saw maps that based it by the regions various magicians and specializations, by temperature, by where the various Burroughs were divided by the government, but no matter how hard she searched she could find no leads. Somehow she had the feeling that the answer was so simple, she'd just have to sit and think about it. She didn't need a map, she needed logic. But the maps gave her somewhere to start. She just needed to start thinking faster. Otherwise she'd be out of time before she could figure everything out. 'Alright,' She said to herself, closing her eyes, 'If I were Shada where would I run to?' The question forced her to relate with someone that she didn't even like to think about, but she had to do what needed to be done. Otherwise millions would pay for her mistake. *** On the other side of the library Hitomi's heart froze as she heard her target's name mentioned. "Cassandra," A familiar voice said. Hitomi whipped around, seeing Lox sitting casually at a table, eating a luxurious meal with the little guardian Cassandra had allied herself with and a think, skeletonlike creature that Hitomi did not recognize. "Do you think Cassandra has thought of where Ramus might be?" Hitomi grew uneasy at the question. She was running behind schedule, and as much as it pained her to admit it, Cassandra was smart. There was a decent chance that she'd found out where the Catacombs were. That meant that she could simply defend it, counting on Ramus' inability to find the catacombs for himself. And yet, the implication in this girl's words implied that Cassandra was looking for Ramus himself. If that were the case, there was little to worry about. The festival was massive, and Ramus was more skilled in losing himself in the Zionese crowds than almost anyone. Still, if these three were going to be a problem Hitomi would have to deal with them. She drew her daggers quickly, and started to think about how to arrange a way to quickly separate them, allowing her to end them individually. However, Lox's next words made this unnecessary. “Maybe I should try to find out where Hayder is, instead. Working backward, Acel is wherever Hayder is. Acel wants to see Ramus fall, so he would keep close tabs, no? Ramus is undercover, but we know Acel is a famous politician, which means he’s a public figure. Public figures always have files on them. If we find Acel we can find Ramus." Hitomi smiled. That was reasonable, but it also would take too long. These three wouldn't present any threat. And the idea of reason had given her an idea of her own. Knowing Cassandra, there was a decent chance that she was in the library herself. Her master had ordered her to leave Cassandra alive, but she knew that he wanted Cassandra to be by his side more than anything. Perhaps the Alchemist, despite her rash actions thus far, could be reasoned with. Hitomi would talk to her. Perhaps she could turn her to Ramus' side, as he had hoped all along. She was a reasonable woman. With luck, she would listen to reason. Otherwise, Hitomi would have to resort to more extreme measures. With that thought in mind Hitomi slid into the depths of the library. *** Angelus didn't know if it was the library or the natural expectations she had for a night due to her lifestyle, but as Lox continued to work through the reasoning that would eventually lead her to conclude that the best thing she could do was learn more about Ramus she found herself growing increasingly bored. She supposed it had a lot to do with the idea that she didn't really feel like she was doing anything. Right now all she was doing was following Lox around, and while that was fun, it left this nagging feeling that she wasn't really spending her time productively. Before, when she'd been looking for the other True Ones she'd at least felt like she was doing something, even if she was doing it very, very slowly. Which brought her to what was likely the other cause of her impatience. She could not, for the life of her, grasp how it was that humans could go through the trouble of looking for each other without tearing their hair out. With her powers this would be so easy, she'd just have to lock in on the wavelengths of all of the True Ones and then teleport to them, then teleport back to Cassandra's with them in tow. Normally she'd be halfway to stopping Gadriel by now, but instead she was wandering around a library, wasting her time trying to figure out how to find Ramus,and then how to find an even bigger bad guy to punch out after him. Of course, she thought, the funny thing was that her potential future foe, Gadriel, would have taken care of the problem in a must faster, far more vicious way. Knowing Gadriel, she would have just used her powers to lock on to Ramus' wavelength and kill him. She would have done so in the quickest, cleanest, and least painful way possible of course, because Gadriel was nothing if not courteous, but she was still Gadriel, and no one stood against her and lived. No one but Angelus. So far, anyway. If Gadriel did wake up tonight she was sure the older Guardian would have something to say about that score. Still, regardless of what was happening with Gadriel, and regardless of the hows and whys, the fact was Angelus needed to feel like she was doing something. And right now following Lox didn't really feel like something she should be doing. After all Lox, really didn't need her help finding information, it seemed reasonable to Angelus to assume that Lox could manage that on her own. Besides, she was supposed to be a writer, so she probably knew her way around a library. So, hoping to accomplish something, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to do a quick sweep of the library to see if there were any other True Ones wandering around. It seemed highly unlikely, but at the very least amusing this opportunity gave the angel something to do. With that in mind she shouted to Lox. "Hey," She said, "I think I'm going to look around and see who else is here. I'll catch up with you when I'm done." Before Lox could argue Angelus turned and started walking away, rubbing at the sore spot where her wings met her back. Part of her wanted to be back at Cassandra's apartment, resting these wings. She was still worn out from her battle with Acel, and sleep would help clear her head of the miserable outcome of that fight. But there was no time for that she knew. Right now, there was another fight to take care of. *** Hitomi had not been to the great library often, but as she progressed through it she found herself liking it more and more. There was something comforting to her about the pressing silence that pervaded the building,and the fact that it was easy to hide one's self among the bookshelves that reached nearly all the way to the building's tall ceiling. It was an assassin's dream, but more than that it was a private place, and Hitomi could see why people like Cassandra found that comforting. She also quickly discovered the other reason someone like Cassandra would find this place comforting. It was a massive maze. Hitomi spent what felt like endless minutes searching the various shelves and floors for the girl, failing to locate her. She had searched from the top floor back to the first, but she couldn't seem to locate the girl. At long last she gave up, heading for the archives, hoping that she might be able to find some hint as to how to find some way to get into the catacombs. When she reached the archives, she was surprised to find someone waiting for her. Cassandra sat there, her head propped up by one of her hands, staring over the maps. Hitomi smiled, fingering one of the daggers on her belt. It amazed her how easy it would be to kill this girl. She was many things, but a fighter wasn't one of them. Otherwise she'd know not to let her guard down. Still, Hitomi was here to talk, not fight, and with that in mind she slid from the shadows, taking her hands from her blades. "Cassandra?" She asked, her voice carrying through the silence, "Cassandra Phaedra?" Cassandra turned quickly, her eyes full of wild fear. She almost looked like a frightened dear, and it took all of Hitomi's will to keep her hand away from her blade. She could not, under any circumstances, let herself appear frightening. "You're one of Ramus', aren't you?" The girl asked, her voice quavering, "Come to kill me for your master's awful cause, eh?" Hitomi flinched at the words, fighting the anger that quickly welled up inside her. She bit the urge to threaten this girl, as was her normal response, and instead tried to find a more tactful way to approach this. "Our cause isn't awful," She said, her voice managing to sound almost sympathetic, "We're trying to free the magic users of Zion from the oppression of a government that treats them like second class citizens. Surely you can understand that." Hitomi felt her heart fall as Cassandra glared at her, no longer seeming afraid. "I can understand that magic almost destroyed Zion," She said, "And it cost me my father. Magic users aren't being treated like second class citizens, they're being treated like everyone else that can't use magic." Hitomi tried and failed to fight the urge to glare back. That this girl, who had never felt the flow of magic in her veins could try to justify the government's actions was beyond her. She didn't understand the torment of having an ability, an energy within herself that she could not use. Magic was a talent, and people born with it knew how awful it was to be incapable of using it. "Would you tell a bird not to sing?" Hitomi shot back, "Or to not fly? And while doing so would you unfurl your own wings and take to the sky? Magic should belong to everyone." Cassandra did not drop her glare. It was obvious to Hitomi now that no matter what, she wouldn't listen to reason. She sighed, reaching to her belt, and preparing to draw the obsidian blade that waited there. "The people of Zion have proved they don't deserve magic," Cassandra said, not noticing the movement, "They deserve their current fate." Hitomi nodded, pulling the blade from her belt. "Then you leave me no choice," She said. Ramus had told her not to kill Cassandra. He'd said nothing about leaving her intact. *** Angelus had just been wondering whether it was ironic for there to be a fiction section in a library that was, itself, part of a giant fictional construct when she heard the familiar voice of Cassandra reach her. She wandered toward the sound, listening as Cassandra exchanged heated words with another voice, this one unfamiliar. Angelus had just reached the source of the voices when Hitomi stepped forward, blade in hand. Without thinking Angelus materialized her bow, shooting a quick, feeble arrow at the newcomer's hand. Under normal circumstances the plasma would have torn through the flesh of the woman's hand. Instead, all it did was make her drop the blade. she turned, her cold eyes locking on the little angel. "Angelus," She hissed. Angelus smirked, shrugging. "Yep, that's me," She said, "Good to know..." She had let her guard down. Before she could even let the words escape her mouth the girl had burst across the room, and she would have slit the little angel's throat if Angelus hadn't put her hands up in defense. As the little angel clutched the blade, her hand screaming out in pain she noticed a trickle of gold liquid slide down the blade. It was her own blood. She stared in shock, her heart pounding at the sight. She realized quite suddenly that, without her powers there was a good chance this girl could kill her. And unlike Fenris, she didn't have some magic maguffin to bring her back. "Um..." The angel said quietly, struggling to raise her voice, "...I could use some help here. I'm sort of getting attacked by a crazy assassin." The flippancy was all for show of course. Angelus was not going to let her enemy know how scared she was. Unfortunately she couldn't fool herself. For the first time in a very, very long time she was genuinely concerned for her life.
posted
Meanwhile, at one of Malthazar's hidden fortresses, located somewhere beneath the Great Red Desert of Kopul Vul, in a complex in the center of a massive subterranean labyrinth, patrolled by an elite army of bounty hunters and mercenaries belonging to the powerful multi-realm organization known as D.U.S.T.
Malthazar stirred, he had dozed off while poring through an extremely thick, extremely dusty tome with the words "Ancient Illusiona" engraved on the cover in fancy gold lettering. The book was currently open to a page depicting a group of people falling from the heavens, their feathery wings consumed in fire, their mouths agape with terror.
"What is it, I'm busy," Malthazar grumbled in a deep, resonant voice as he removed his diminutive spectacles and placed them in a small silver case he procured from a hidden pocket in his billowing, indigo robes.
"My lord," the voice crackled from a speaker mounted in the ceiling of the room, which happened to be Malthazar's personal library, "your guest has finally awoken."
Malthazar's eyes brightened at the news. "Oh? So soon?"
"Yes, my lord, and he seems to be rather...aggravated."
Malthazar's thin lips formed into a smile. "I'm on my way."
He closed the book and set it on the desk before striding briskly out the door. A wedge of light from a nearby lamp revealed the author's name on the spine of the volume, scrawled in a spidery, gold script, it was almost illegible, but the large "M" at the beginning of the name was a dead give-away.
Wolf looked around at his surroundings, puzzled, and feeling extremely fatigued. There were so many sensations he was experiencing he could hardly process them all. It was all very new to him, yet somehow familiar, but only vaguely so, like remembering something from a dream. Except that dream had been his life. A life lived long ago. He analyzed his environment, attempting to make sense of his circumstances.
He was lying on his back on a raised platform, in a circular white room with a great dome-light shining down from the ceiling, which was a good twenty feet high. There was nothing in the room save for the pedestal he was lying on, not even a door. When he tried to get up, he found that he couldn't. He wasn't sure if it was merely because he was so tired, why was he so tired anyways? Or if there were another reason for his inability to move. In his attempts at mobility, Wolf found that the only part of his body that he could actually cause to stir was his head. The rest of his body felt numb and was completely unresponsive. He swiveled his head to the left and was surprised to see a silvery metallic bracer encompassing his left forearm. It was covered in runic symbols and strange grooves, and completely mesmerizing to stare at. He also vaguely remembered looking at it before, but he couldn't remember anything specific about it. He tried to get a better look at it, but failed at doing more than cocking his head to the side barely another degree.
"Why can't I move!" Wolf screamed in a voice he hardly recognized as his own, thrashing his head back and forth. "I demand to speak to the one responsible for this!"
He continued screaming and thrashing his head for a few minutes, refusing to stop until he got a response. He had a lot of questions, and he was going to get answers. He kept yelling, growing angrier and more frustrated as time ticked slowly by. Finally, he heard something. A humming noise coming from behind him, the only spot he couldn't see from his place on the pedestal. He could feel someone standing there, could feel their cold stare like a veil of frost settling over his body.
"Who's there? I demand to be released at once!" he barked agitatedly.
Malthazar leaned on his braided-wood staff, ignoring Wolf's attempt at intimidation and his question as he regarded the figure lying on the pedestal in front of him. He looked like the young specimen he had "extracted" him from so many weeks ago, except he appeared to be at least fifteen years older. His jet black hair was long and wild, and his skin was the color of wet sand. He was a foot taller, and twice as broad as Caspar, being well-muscled and sturdily built. His eyes were the same mysterious turquoise, but they were dull, almost misty, and he had large black rings around them, giving him the appearance of someone who hadn't slept in a month. This was actually the complete opposite of what he had been doing the past month, which was in fact sleeping.
"I'm impressed," Malthazar eventually said after minutes of excruciating silence, "I had theorized that you would still be resting for at least another three weeks before you became strong enough to actively regain consciousness."
Wolf turned his head as much as he could, but despite his struggles, he couldn't see who was talking to him.
"Who are you, where am I, why can't I move?" he asked.
Malthazar finally answered him. "I am Malthazar, though I doubt that means anything to you. I am a scientist, and you are in my laboratory, Wolf. You cannot move because your body is still recovering."
Wolf felt uneasy, moreso than he would normally feel if he had woken up, paralyzed, on an examining table. It seemed like everything in his head was jumbled and out of focus, but one thing he knew was his name. He also knew that he didn't know this person, though they apparently knew him.
"How do you know my name? And recovering from what?" he asked.
Malthazar chuckled softly. "I know quite a lot about you, Wolf. You see, you're a bit of a pet project for me. I've been looking for you for a very long time. And now I've finally found you. And to answer your second question, you're still recovering from the extraction process."
Extraction process? What did that mean? Wolf gritted his teeth in annoyance. Whoever this Malthazar guy was, he was disturbingly obsessed with him. Wolf was growing increasingly angry with his inability to move, his lack of real answers from Malthazar, and his general confusion about what was happening, and as his anger grew, the air around him seemed to start to shimmer an iridescent green. He didn't realize this was happening, though as it was occurring he could feel warmth starting to spread throughout his cold, cramped body. His fingers began twitching periodically, as did his toes. Even his long, raven hair seemed to start moving a little, as if caught in a soft breeze.
"I don't know how you know me, or what you want from me," Wolf said in a steely voice, "or what this extraction process is, but I'm losing my patience with this situation. Tell me what's going on!"
Malthazar watched all this, still standing behind Wolf in his blind spot, and was obviously intrigued. Not only had Wolf awakened in half the time Malthazar had estimated it would take, but his body was already building nerve connections, which was something Malthazar had thought he would need his scientific expertise to develop. He had completely underestimated Wolf, and that excited him. He was just getting better and better.
"What's going on," Malthazar eventually responded evenly, "is something that is going to be difficult to explain to you, especially since you haven't fully regained your memories yet."
The green shimmering stopped as Wolf visibly relaxed. "Go on."
Malthazar cleared his throat hesitantly before launching into a lengthy explanation about how Wolf was a Marmahi, and so in turn an ex-Pamuyan, and even before that a Sprite. He told him how he had found out from one of the Marmahi that a mage named Yuri had battled him, and somehow imprisoned his psyche in the back of his mind, and then planted the seeds of a new, good psyche, which had grown into Caspar. He told him how he had been looking for Caspar for quite a while, but that somehow he had evaded him by traveling to different realms, until he finally found him and used another Sprite named Pan to unknowingly lure him to Limbo, which was a home turf of sorts for Malthazar. And finally, he told him how he had secretly extracted Wolf from Caspar without his knowledge, and that Wolf had been resting and regaining his strength until now.
As Wolf listened to Malthazar's story, it was like little details of his life emerged from blurriness and suddenly became clear, until the pieces all seemed to fit together, and what he thought had been a long dream had actually been his life. He even remembered Caspar, as well as being stuck in the back of his mind, only allowed out in times of dire need, but even then, he had been a shadow of his former self, closer to a primitive animal than anything else. And now he remembered. He remembered Caspar, he remembered the bracer on his arm, he remembered losing the battle against Yuri so long ago, and what he remembered most of all was the height of his power. How he had led an army, and how they had done whatever they wanted, that is until they had been stripped of their powers and wings, and cast out into the desert wilderness of Arall, left to wander in impotence and shame for all eternity, never able to return to their homeland of Pamuya. And as he remembered, he felt something growing inside him. It was small at first, like a tiny flame, but as he listened and remembered it grew, and grew, until it felt like a bonfire was licking at his insides with its fiery tongues. It was the fire of vengeance, and he knew it wouldn't be extiguished until he revisited all these ghosts of his past, and paid them back what they were due.
"Malthazar," he finally said in a quiet voice.
"Yes, Wolf," the scientist eagerly responded.
"Can you help me become strong again? I have several matters to attend to."
Malthazar grinned as he took his spectacles out and placed them on his nose. The light's reflection off their glass hid the sinister look in his eyes.
posted
The walk to the library took almost two hours. Abedah and Jimmy had been walking next to each other, and had assumed that Pounce was following along behind as she had when they first started off. But when they arrived at the grand plaza and turned around, they realized she was no longer with them. Abedah, though still somewhat upset with the cat, was genuinely concerned for her welfare. "If something happened to her, I'll feel terrible."
"I wouldn't worry," Jimmy replied. "She's a big cat and she knows how to take care of herself. She hasn't gotten herself into a bind yet that we've had to pull her out of."
"Shouldn't we go back and try to find her?"
"She knows where we went, and once she's ready, she'll know where to find us. And if not, she can either find Regus, Skratch, or Iysi by asking around."
"I suppose; but why couldn't she just tell me, if she has all the answers like she claims?"
"She has her reasons, I'm sure. What section did you want to start in?" Jimmy asked as they entered the main hall.
"I don't have time for a full treatise on Zion's history, even as fast as I read. Let's start in juvenile. The kid's books probably have the stories I need in condensed form."
They looked at the map of the library on one of the welcoming pillars and started to make their way in that direction, when they were stopped by a familiar voice: "Um...I could use some help here. I'm sort of getting attacked by a crazy assassin." The voice was quiet, but unmistakable. It was Angelus, the traitor.
Abedah moved to ignore the plea and continue towards the section she was originally heading for; but Jimmy glared at her so hard, one would think if he had been possessed of magic, Abedah would have burst into flame on the spot. He drew his sword quietly and started in the direction of the voice, weaving between the stacks of books to keep himself unseen. Abedah followed him at a distance, hoping he wouldn't do something stupid to get himself hurt. This wasn't their fight, and though she knew magic could be used to heal someone, she didn't know how to do it.
The scene was pretty one-sided. The petite guardian was leaking battery fluid, or was that what guardian blood usually looked like? And the assassin was obviously quite skilled at her craft. If Jimmy tried to approach from behind, she would quickly lash out and make quick work of him, even though he had the bigger blade. He motioned for Abedah to come next to him. "Do you think you could make an earthquake that would throw her off balance, but not bring the whole building down on top of us?" he whispered.
"I'll try."
Jimmy didn't like that answer, especially from what he had seen at Regus' place. In a moment, the floor began to heave, and books fell from the shelves in littered piles. Hitomi fell backward, freeing Angelus to stumble backwards. Hitomi quickly regained her balance, but now Jimmy had his blade pointed at her throat, with Angelus behind him. The shaking stopped. "I'm not sure what you're after, miss; but I have first dibs on the imp."
IP: Logged
posted
At first Angelus thought that the shaking she was feeling was just her own shivers of fear, which left her somewhat ashamed, but when Hitomi lost her own balance and fell back Angelus realized that someone else had entered the fray. As she stumbled back she saw one of the pirates from Hayder's crew step in front of her, sword drawn. For some reason she was having trouble tying a name with him though, he was just 'that one who hung around Abedah' in her mind. Still, he had saved her life, and she was incredibly grateful for that.
"Thank you, um..." She started, but he didn't seem to be listening.
"I'm not sure what you're after, miss," He said to the assassin opposite him, "But I have first dibs on the imp."
Angelus blinked, her mind wandering back to the alley she had just been in with Lox. Given the possessive view men around here had towards women she didn't like the idea of anyone having dibs on her.
"Hey, buddy," She shouted at him, "I appreciate the save, but nobody's got dibs on me."
She touched off from the ground, drawing her still useless bow back into existence. It couldn't do much, but there was comfort in having some way to defend herself.
"Also, I am an angel, not an imp," She said, "Get it right."
The assassin watched all of this with bewilderment, before turning to Cassandra, seeming to not see the blade pointed at her.
"Cassandra," She said, her voice seeming to shift. The words had started as her own, but as she continued to speak another voice overwhelmed her's, a man's voice, deep and resonant, "You don't know the truth about Gadriel, about Shada...about Zion itself. The only way to find it is to look into your own past."
As the other watched shadows began to rise from the floor, enveloping the assassin. As the last of the shadows covered the voice spoke one last time.
"When you're ready," It said to Cassandra, "I will be waiting."
With that the shadows dispersed, and the adventurers found themselves alone.
"Well,seems like her..." Angelus started, but then she saw the look on Cassandra's face. She looked as if she had seen a ghost, and as she stared in shock at the spot where Hitomi had been Angelus wished she had her powers back so she could figure out what was on the alchemist's mind.
As she stared Cassandra reached out a hand, and quietly let a whisper escape her lips. "Ramus..." She said, and then she quickly turned the where the angel was floating, seeming to have had an epiphany, "Angelus, there's somewhere I need to go." *** Ramus looked up as his spell finished, bringing the assassin to him. She seemed angry with him, and she turned quickly as she came into existence in front of him.
"I didn't need your help," She said, her tone controlled.
Ramus tried to resist the urge to laugh but failed,a smirk spreading across his face.
"That pirate had you dead to rights," He said, "I'm surprised you let him get the upper hand so easily."
She scowled, ashamed at how easily she'd had the tables turned on her.
"Still," Ramus said, comfortingly, "Now you've put Cassandra on the right track. She should find the scroll soon."
Hitomi turned, confused at her master's apparent joy at this. Cassandra was intelligent, and guiding her to the scroll would give her the chance to put an end to the Order's plans once and for all. "Yes, but what do we have to gain from her knowing of the keys?" She asked.
He shook his head, amused that his pupil had not seen the many ways that this could be turned to their favor.
"Cassandra is smart, she'll find them for us if she has the right materials," He said, smiling at the memory of his friend, "And with luck knowing of the injustice that ended the age of Magic will help her to see that Zion truly has fallen. This is not the grand city of our youth. It is a lie maintained by self-serving men who want nothing but to cling to their own limited power. Cassandra should see that now. And with luck, she'll come to us."
Hitomi nodded, though she seemed unconvinced.
"Are you sure this will work, master?" She asked.
He smiled, staring out at the city of magic, which seemed to be on fire with energy. Lights of every color shone out from the homes of the citizens, and in the sky above fireworks painted gorgeous pictures of days long past. Ramus sighed quietly. It should be like this every night, he thought. This was the Zion he remembered from his youth. He would give anything to keep it like this for the rest of time.
"Of course," He said, "I wouldn't have guided her to the scroll if I wasn't."
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