Holidays with a Dork, a Delinquent and the Dungeon

"Dimitri, what are you doing?"

The red hologram - which currently resembled one of the frilly-dressed girls that seemed to be everywhere nowadays - looked down at Sean.

"I'm installing lasers," she replied.

Sean sighed. He really wanted to go back to bed. Sakuya had been woken up by the banging noises, and Sakuya had a way of channelling her displeasure at him in subtle ways.

"Why," he asked, "are you installing lasers into the mansion at 2 in the morning?"

"Marisa."

Sean's brow furrowed. "Marisa?" Then recollection emerged from the sleepy fuzz of his brain. "Oh, you mean the girl that keeps beating Meiling in fights?"

"Yeah, and coming in and stealing stuff and being a total bitch." There was a fizz of sparks from within the contraption attatched to the corner of the ceiling. "Well, let's see her waltz in when sixty thousand degree plasma death is pointed at her."

Sean arched an eyebrow. "Did Remilia give you permission to do this? Not that I care what she thinks, but modifying her home is -"

"She pointed me towards the scrapyard, buddy."

Sean tried desperately to cast his mind back to Christmas, where there was mistletoe and eggnog and food and presents and everything was slightly pink because Sakuya was being extra romantic. It seemed a very long time ago now. He'd like another day of that, and not this. He was starting to get cold.

"I don't think Meiling would like this," he said.

The tinkering stopped. "What?"

"You waking everyone up at 2 in the morning." Sean left "trying to fight her battles for her" unsaid.

There was a pause.

"In fact," Sean added, hoping Dimitri wasn't using his eyes at the moment, "I think that's her coming down the corridor right now."

Dimitri, expression fearful, vanished in a blur of red pixels. Sean nodded, and went back to bed and Sakuya. Snuggles were good.

---

A small town's Christmas was ruined when they woke up to find their town Christmas tree knocked over, the decorations torn and "inhale my dong santa" burned into the baseball diamond. There were also a lot more empty bottles of alcohol lying around than usual.

They blamed it on travellers, but without conviction.

---

The campfire was the only source of light.

"- back of the knee, boy. The Swine have weak legs, you see. Try it!"

The young man concentrated as he gripped his hands around the remnants of the schackles that danged from his body. With a grunt, he swung a length out, down low, and hit the leg of the dummy with a dull thunk.

"Good!" A heavy gauntlet patted him on the back. "Again. We'll see you get it down right before we turn in, or my name isn't -"

"We're going to die down here."

She turned away from watching the two men, old and young, and focused on the girl. Swaddled in her vestements, clutching her holy tome to her like a shield.

"And what makes you say that," she asked.

The girl stared blankly at her. "You know. You saw, back there. I mean, people eat pigs, yes?" A giggle crept into her voice, wild and unhinged. "So, so obviously the pigs eat -"

The slap came and she regretted it the moment it landed. Old habits died hard. The girl stared, eyes wide and cheek red.

"With that kind of talk we WILL die down here,' she hissed. " we're on our last set of firewood and our packs only have food for a few days. The last swine we fought cut the boy up badly. If you lose your fool senses now, nobody can heal him."

The girl's eyes shone in the firelight. Too harsh, perhaps. A crack of wood made their heads turn to see the ragged, chained boy beaming and the dummy's leg amputated.

"Look," she said. "I won't let anything happen to you down here. The Swine are not the worst horror we've seen here. We will make it."

The girl's voice was faint. "Promise me?"

"I promise you, S -"

"AMBUSH!" The old man roared, lionesque. His mace flashed into the night, there was a sick crunch, and a twisted, bloodied body fell into the light of the fire. In the dark beyond came squeals. Metal glinted. Red eyes leered.

The party drew weapons as, once again, the Swine fell upon them.

Inferno

Midway upon the journey of our life,
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.



The diner door's chime had broken a long time ago, so it took the thudding footsteps to alert the waitress to the new customer. She turned around.

"Hi! Welcome to-"

Her best smile faltered. The new entrant was ten feet tall, and had semi-crouched in order to get their enormous bulk sideways through the door. The light struggled through the stained windows to gleam on their golden armor. The waitress dimly recalled a medieval fair her mother had takenn her to as a child, and seeing two men in shining armour pantomiming their roles as knights. This... person's armor put them to shame. Two electric blue points of light looked down at her as it approached.

"Um," she managed. Did this thing even eat?

The boots banged on the tiles as it approached the counter. It stopped and regarded her.

"Hello," it said. Its voice was like a musical chime, from far away. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

"Hi," she replied. "Welcome to Bert's Diner! Uh, What can I get you?"

The thing looked up and down the scarlet counter. Nobody else was here - the Kobbers had left the city for the rest of the year, and it was off holiday season anyway, so most people had headed home. All that was left were the empty red seats and the dust starting to collect on the road signs and registration plates adorning the walls. The TV suspended on one wall was tuned to a NBN music channel - some vaporwave track that had never left the charts.

"I would like," the figure chimed, "a cheeseburger. And a chocolate milkshake."

The waitress nodded and hurried into the kitchen. The figure looked around the dying restaurant again. Its eyes fell upon a potted plant on the end of the diner counter, a bonsai that was reaching the end of its life and patience.

Half an hour later, the waitress came back with a plate in one hand and a tall, cold glass in the other. Her eyes fell, briefly, upon the small tree. It was in full bloom, with small red flowers bursting from the end of the branches. She glanced at the figure, which was still standing at the counter, and briefly wanted to ask him two questions at once.

"Here you go," she said instead, voice full of fake joy as she set the plate and glass down. "Enjoy your meal!"

"Thank you," it said.

She went to the end of the counter and pretended to polish it, watching as it lifted golden gauntlets to the helmet, flicking unseen catches open and lifting the helmet off.

It was like a midnight sky.

She wasn't quite aware how long it was before the figure finished, put the helmet back on and paid for the meal. She recalled only a midnight sky, and the rustle of its broken wings as it left the diner.



"Ah, this looks fabulous on you! The cut really brings out your shoulders!"

Bored.

Tak-Sin paid for the dress and left the store. The mall blared Christmas at him. His heels clacked on the tiles as he passed brands, offers, toys, cheer.

Bored.

He pulled out his phone. No texts from James. The wallpaper was of the two of them at a theme park.

Bored.

He wondered if this was what it was like to die. Stillness, nothing happening or developing. No current flowing. Oh, James was nice - as much as a mostly physical relationship could be, anyway. James was cute, fluffy, inoffensive. They shared similar tastes in clothing. He was easy to keep happy. He was insufferably boring.

He looked up and saw something interesting. There was a young man in clothing that was probably out of fashion when his punk rocker idols had gotten married and had children. He was hunched over a laptop, squinting, fingers flying like fish amongst the reef. People, for some reason, weren't noticing him.

Interesting.

Tak-Sin walked up behind the man and watched silently over his shoulder for a while. He didn't understand any of the words. He did understand the part where the man appeared to take ten thousand dollars from someone. It was hard to miss. Whoever had made that program had wanted the user to know exactly what they were doing. He quickly placed a hand on one shoulder and leant over.

"Well done," he whispered into the man's ear. He froze up, staring straight ahead and hands hovering above the keys. Tak-Sin kept talking.

"I don't need to know what you're doing to know it's stupid," he continued. "You're in a public place. The only reason you've not been caught is that the guards here aren't paid enough for the hours they work and don't dislike you enough to investigate. If I shout, you'll be in jail. Nod if you understand."

The man, face pale, nodded.

"Now then." Tak-Sin leaned a little closer. "Would you kindly direct me to whoever hired you? I'm in need of a job."



Old coin. Confederate. Battered from time and travel. Feels solid in the hand.

Flip.

Tails. Hah.

Old gun. Revolver. Not a common service weapon in the military. Six bullets. Five chambers empty.

Point at head. Pull -

Jonesy waited until the echoing in her head had stopped and her brain and skull had regenerated.

"Shit," she muttered, and slammed the gun on the kitchen counter. Then she went to fix herself a whiskey.

This is Really Stupid

Abandoned Pizzeria
Las Vegas

In the cold corpse-air of the abandoned building, they came together.

Well, three of them did.

"FREDDY MY FUCKING HEAD IS GONE."

One of them turned, servos whining with age, and glared at the open door to the parts and services room. There wasn't enough mechanisms in the face to express how it felt. It tried, anyway. The mouth opened, and a hissing tape recorder played;

"just use a spare you insufferable garbage can"

"BUT IT'S NOT THE SAME." 

"hurry up this is important shit"

Eventually, the missing figure stumbled from the back room and joined the other four, looking as sheepish as it was possible for a costumed robot to be. The leader didn't spare it a glance, but simply cast its glowing eyes across the assembled figures.

"gather around all you shitlords and shitheads," intoned the leader, "for i have intercepted

the mail"

Expectant silence.

"it turns out we're all fucking fired"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING?" This roar came from the most broken of the four, his teeth gnashing and mouth spitting sparks. His hook dragged across the floor's tiles with a screech.

"sadly no, it appears you have insulted your last birthday child"

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE GONNA DO I HAVE KIDS TO FEED"

"none of us have any kids you yiffy pile of useless garbage"

The leader sighed and shook its head.

"it seems we no longer have any choice my shittiest companions"

The word were spoken with grave solemninty, and the others knew their time had come.

"we're going to have to rob a casino to pay for our nights of debauchery"

"YES"

"FUCK YES LETS FUCKING DO IT"

The third one, who hadn't made a noise this whole time, weighed in. "devour my hot bird ass freddy"

"no"

Stars, a Collab with Saberwulf

Conrad stood on the balcony and watched the stars below him. They were the lights of the Oldazzi, albino octopi people who floated amongst the stalks of the plants below him, picking bioluminescent fruit from the branches. At his back came soft sitar music and the laughter of his mother as she told her fifth filthy joke of the evening. He’d heard every one of them. In his hand was something red and very, very alcoholic.

He wanted to think about something, because that was what you were meant to go onto balconies for, right? But he’d had a bit to drink and all he could think was of how much the view below him looked like a mirror of the night sky.

“—And that one on the right with the red in the center is the Pathi Tanni Ka Universe, where Treun Danikos founded modern particulate transmogrification. Dude was a badass, he actually took on an entire army using only sand and omnus circles he tattooed on his hands.”

For the past few minutes Ellie had used Conrad’s silence as an excuse to regale about the Hub unusually gorgeous night sky, though of course she related the distant galaxies and universes that rose over them to the horrendously complicated history of Omnus magic. It all went over Conrad’s head, but still she had a sparkle in her eye as she spoke about these funny names and archaic techniques, a sparkle that had been missing since all the Dexys trouble started. He’d missed that sparkle.

“Now, of course he founded it, but it wasn’t until Xhan Tlo Bai’s exile to Chaucher’s Folly that it really became useful.” Ellie brushed her wavy locks out her eyes, each strand doped with OcuTone nanobots to form a film playing silently in her hair. It was some ancient Sumaji movie she had a liking for, and the slightly blurry image of a solar goddess danced hypnotically in the shifting locks. Ellie turned her head and looked at Conrad silently for a moment, the galaxies in her eyes shade-matching the scholarly cobalt that was pulsing slowly through her dermal markings.

She gave a nervous laugh and smiled. “Shit, this is probably really boring, isn’t it?”

“What?” Conrad turned to look at her, the movie in her hair reflecting off his ebony eyes. Then he smiled. “No, no! This is awesome stuff. I had no idea there was so much… stuff out there.” He brushed a hand through his own hair - he’d dyed it the same color as hers, shimmering karzantium. “Sand warrior dude sounds awesome. And Chaucer’s Folly… tell me more about that! How’d it get that name?”

He wasn’t actually interested in why Chaucher had ended up with some place christened after his stupidity. He wanted to hear Ellie talk, see the patterns in her skin light up, listen to her laughter. It was amazing to him, and sorely missed after the Dexys stuff had driven her to be more… quiet. He missed the light from the early days, where it had felt like a risk to even date her. Now her dad was practically family. The man had held a blade to his neck! And now he was swapping parenting stories with his mom.

Ellie opened her mouth to continue, but as her head turned up to the sky her gaze drifted to a distant light lost far away in the black night, a ghostly echo of something long gone. The name she spoke was old and whispering, almost hissed against the back of her teeth. “Uhur, the grave.” She brought her arm up and pointed towards its faint dust. “It’s actually part of my home Universe, though it’s a lot brighter there. My people called it Zla’or, the crystal princess. Mom used to tell us stories about Zla’or’s conquest against the Aurora King, and how she slew the Azerox of Dolyia and shackled it to the stars of Mir.” Her markings had changed and become a color that didn’t have a name in Arkadian, a shade of bittersweet nostalgia with breaths of loneliness shot through like gem veins in old stone.

Her hand went up and turned over, and with a trained flourish she cupped the moon with her manicured nails like a seer’s orb. “And Zla’or plucked dying Huhlya from the night and brought her down upon the soil, and at the eight rivers of emotion she planted her. Zla’or spoke to her, and her smiling words soothed Huhlya and she went down into the earth to sleep forever. Zla’or knew she had lost her friend and tears came forth from her and the rivers of eight surged onto floodplains, and Huhlya’s gravesoil became mud. Zla’or saw this and her tears became crystal seeds, and they came down upon Huhlya’s grave and burst open, and all became covered in beautiful flowers and fruit trees, and the riverbanks became heavy with Talli’ka reeds that unfurled themselves with the songs of this tragic bounty already written upon them, so great was Zla’or’s grief.”

Ellie’s markings matched the color of Uhur far gone in the Hub sky, a tarnished silver lost in the lightless waters of dead worlds. Somehow it didn’t feel sad, however, because there was a new look in Ellie’s eyes that Conrad had never seen, a deep, ichorous black that would have seemed like utter Stygian grief if it wasn’t for the trillions of glittering stars that shone out from inside. It was the Stygian equivalent to awe, Ellie utterly enraptured by her own tellings of her dead mother’s stories of their utterly annihilated culture from the sunblasted wasteland they had once called home. But the look in her eyes said she had forgotten all that, and the only thing that mattered was the crystal princess, swinging her starlight sword slowly through the multicolor dust seas of the eternal Stygian night.

Conrad had absolutely no idea how to respond. He didn’t have stories like that to tell. His mom had talked about things that ate worlds, when she was drunk. His dad’s tales were in much the same vein, and weren’t romantic in the slightest. They’d never had… myths. Not really.But the look in her eyes…

He laid a hand on her shoulder. Maybe there was one story.

“Somewhere out there,” he said, turning his eyes to the constellations above him, “my dad’s on a ship that’s kilometers long. He’s crossing the stars, looking for horrible shit. Things that eat planets, things that forgot what death is, things that fight because seeing worlds burn is like a day out for them. Things that we have horrible nightmares about. And then you know what he does?”

He grinned, and his family canines glinted in the light.

“He beats the shit out of it. Just like he’s done all his life.”

He pulls something from out underneath his shirt - a tooth, about an inch long, that must have come from one mean shark. It hung on a simple thread.

“One day, about… a year ago, we got a delivery on our door. No return address, no marks, no nothing. But we opened it, and it was a skull about as big as my torso, that came off of something that was probably fifteen feet tall. Dead and cleaned completely, like a medical model.There was also a sword made out of bone. Mom freaked out about it, but now they’re hanging over the fireplace at home.”

He tucked the tooth back, and looked back up. Ellie’s colors shone off his hair, suffused his face and brought his eyes into glittering relief as he stared up at the night sky. His hand left her shoulder and twined his fingers into her own.

“Somewhere out there, my dad’s defeating undying lords of ancient dynasties, wrestling warrior-kings into submission, and turning back tides of ravenous monsters. Because… because he has to. That’s how he is. And it might kill him. He might be dead already.”

The memories (memory? they were starting to compound together now) of his mom came back, crying, slumped over the kitchen counter… But she was laughing behind him, having fun. She would be okay. For now.

“But I believe he’s out there. Because if he sent something like that back home to his family, what the fuck can stop him? I don’t have a lot of myths about the stars, Ellie, but that’s what I got.”

She didn’t respond with words. Ellie hand reached out and found the back of his head, and despite her height she still had to stand on her toes a bit when she brought him in for the kiss. The color her markings made would be categorized by the infobots climbing their eyelashes and later sold to Ballimar dye merchants for knock-off handbags, but for now it was nameless and new, raw emotions of hope and love crashing like waves into the shores of her alien biology to express the fact that she felt safe with him. Despite all the death and destruction and ungodly sorrow of everything around them she felt safe. She pulled him tighter and—

Bozidar knocked on the doorframe. “Getting along well with my daughter, I see.” Jonesy let out a cliche whistle from the fainting couch, glass of unpronounceable wine still half full.

Conrad, to his credit, kept his cool in the face of massive embarrassment. The grin he put on was slick and easy - woops, my bad, it said.

“Well,” he said, “Uh, she’s easy to get along with.”

“Separate rooms for you two! The walls are thin here!” Jonesy cackled.

“Jeez, mom!”

Bozidar face softened into a light smile that looked odd on him but surprising natural. “I’m sure.” He turned and trotted back in, brandishing his glass carefree. “I wonder how much it would cost to import Zloti hogs and Ahacdi Kol to the Hub, eh? Hefty penny I’m sure!”

In a split second, Ellie suddenly turned the deepest, most embarrassed blush Conrad had ever seen. “Shöka, Vat!”

A grin was crawling into Boz’s face. “And the mirrors? Oh, only Stygnic hands for those, and only the traditional methods would be enough!”

Somehow she was getting even pinker. “Dah Shökil, Vat!”

And there it was, the multiversally accepted definition of a sleazy grin. “But I guess the costs wouldn’t be too bad on him. The bride’s family pays for the ceremony, after all.”

Ellie groaned like she’d just been shot and sat down on the edge of the balcony, hands over her face and pink embarrassment giving off a neon glow from her markings. “Kill me.”

Despite his permanently silver markings, Bozidar’s amusement showed thoroughly clearly in the first laugh Conrad had ever heard the man emit. It was hearty and deep, and it was the kind of laugh that made you cackle just from its enthusiasm.

“But what do I know, I’m a drunk old soldier.” He glanced over at Conrad and gave him a wink before spinning in his heel. “Now, Ms. Svilzerian! Did I regale you yet with the story of how Krezna got her axes? You absolutely must hear it; truly the story of my people!”

Jonesy grinned. “Not yet, buddy. Top me up and tell your tale!”

And that left Conrad, wishing he could express his mortified embarrassment as clearly as Ellie could. He’d had a vague idea of what Stygnic marriage ceremonies entailed, but the actual idea had never entered his head. Trying to ignore the word, the idea, the concept dancing in his head, he sat down next to Ellie, blushing furiously.

“Um.”

He drummed his fingers on the wood.

“Uh.”

He looked down at the fields.

“At least we could afford it?”

Dumbass.

There was a moment of silence.

And then Ellie burst the fuck out laughing. She collapsed on the balcony giggling like mad, hands against her stomach, finally taking in the absurdity of everything. Tears ran down her face and she didn’t stop until her breathy gasps of gut pain brought her down. She wiped her eyes and stood up, putting an arm around him.

“God I love you.”

With a little buzz, she activated her musecomm. +Mirdath, why don’t you go to a VR spa and leave us alone.+

Ellie’s third eye flashed “GROSS” and flickered off. She swirled her free hand over her forgotten wine glass and twitched her fingers just so, and the red liquid jumped up and slammed the balcony doors shut with a crimson hand.

The last thing they heard was a muffled shout of “Nerrrrrrds!”

Fin~

Hell (Part 3/3)

*reupload from 2015 due to Blogger shenanigans*

She'd been drinking again.

Conrad picked his way through the strewn glass that had blossomed from what had probably been a very nice sculpture. It hadn't been here when he'd last visited. It must have been very expensive. But money wasn't a problem for the Svilzerian family anymore.

She was slumped over the kitchen worktop on a high stool. One hand had a highball glass in it. There were two empty bottles of port, and another half-empty. She was crying. He sighed. She'd apparently conquered this, some time ago (exactly how long ago was a guess at best, with their twisted timeline). But nowadays...

He walked over and lifted one of her arms over his shoulder. Picking her up was easy.

"He's gone," she sobbed.

"I know, mom."

Conrad didn't have many memories of his dad. There weren't ones where they went to the ball game, or went to see a movie as father and son, or anything like that. His dad just... didn't figure into his life very much. Most people in movies who had absent dads got hung up about it. He'd never felt that same desire to reconnect, and he didn't quite know why. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

"He said..." She gulped for air. "He said he'd be there."

"I know, mom."

He lifted her up a bit so she didn't step on the glass in the hall.

"He left... could be anywhere, could be dead... 'm married to a dead man..."

Conrad said nothing. He made sure she threw up in the toilet, and got her water to drink, and got her into bed, and held her hand until she fell asleep. Then he went downstairs and cleaned up the glass, and threw the bottles away. He'd done this three times now. He wasn't sure what to do. Was he angry? Upset?

He knew he was definitely tired.

His phone buzzed, playing the chorus of the Discworld anime's theme song. He flipped it open.

"Hey, C-rad." It was Ellie. "Everything okay?"

Conrad looked around the huge, white house he didn't recognise, with the remains of a glass sculpture he hadn't seen whole, having just taken care of his drunk mom crying over a father he didn't remember properly.

"Yeah," he said. "Everything's fine."

"Great! Wanna come over? The Valentine's update for Proxy War dropped and I wanna hit level 90 before anyone else does."

He smiled.

"Sure. See you soon, babe."

---

Sean stared down.

"What am I eating?" He said eventually.

"Wheaty-Os." said Dimitri, in his head. "Though judging by the scans of your mouth I just did, I highly doubt there's any wheat in them. Not in this day and age. Welcome back to the land of non-trauma, by the way. I'm sure we're past the worst of it."

Sean look around the apartment for the first time.

"Where," he said, slowly, "am I, exactly?"

"Apparently, the planet Earth, Year 2015, in what the locals call the Zoofights Universe."

"Say what? We world-hopped?!"

"Yeah, turkey-fucker wasn't nice to us." Dimitri sighed heavily. "So, how much do you wanna know -"

"One second." Sean pushed himself away from the table and dashed to the grimy window, and looked out onto Las Vegas.

"Oh," he said. And then, "oh, wow."

"Pretty, yeah? Want me to fill you in?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, small words time. You know how reality diverts like a river going backwards? How they're all different, like I told you? This is a branch of Earth Prime, numero uno. Here, some jackass stole some gold and invented super-steam-power and a whole bunch of shit and used it to run animal fights. His company changed the world. They invented space travel a hundered years before Earth Prime got men on the moon, and then dimensional travel right after. Then it got nuked to hell in a war with psychic sea creatures. Then it built itself back up. And now it's a schizophrenic mess of high-concept tech, magic, and dimensional irresponsibility."

Sean looked out at the moving carriages ("cars, they're cool, but you don't need them with your augments"), the tall buildings ("six hundered people in that one alone, buddy"), the neon castles and towers on the horizon ("oh man, if my records are right, you're gonna lose your money and your virginity there in like an hour"). Then he looked in the glass at his reflection. It looked like someone had painted a coat of "old and tired" over him. His ash-blonde hair was a mess. His grey eyes had bags under them.

Dimitri had told him stories of how the Before People had hopped across worlds with the help of their Minds. He didn't think it'd happen to him. He didn't think he'd hate it so much.

"What do I do now?" he whispered.

"Woah, hey, don't get excited, rocket man." Across his foreheard, Dimitri's wires pulsed red in time with the voice's cadence. "That's a big question. I'm guessing prio number one is getting back home, yeah?"

Sean nodded.

"Well I think we can find someone to help you with that, but the question is, if turkey-face sees you're back, why wouldn't he just rip you in half?" Dimitri paused. "You're gonna need to find some back-up. And I think I know where to go for that, too. There's a bunch of, well, people, who deal with this sort of thing. They're kinda crazy, but they get the job done. All you gotta do is -"

And then an anime store popped into existance across the road. The sign said, in yellow on black, "Manga Encarta." Sean blinked.

"Does... Does that happen often?" He asked.

"Yeah." If Dimitri owned a mouth, there'd be a grin. "All the fucking time. It's great."