“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that he’s in the same building as us,” Detective Marcello’s voice chirped into Eddie’s ear, “Makes sense that they’d be watching us if they knew exactly where to find us, square us off, and make sure we’re stuck here.”
Eddie uncomfortably shifted his weight from one leg to the next. He leaned on the risen edge of the hotel’s roof that overlooked the streets and shorter rooftops below. The median ring around the building lit up the seemingly often-dark streets with lights along the midway dotting the distance like various, interconnecting landing strips. Vigilance was harder than the PET programs made it look. An old-fashioned police stake-out sounded fun in theory, just sitting around somewhere with a cup of coffee and watching, waiting… however the actual act required some endurance. Eddie had to stand up there on the roof – not sit, but stand so he could see over the waist-high ledge – and battle boredom every second that went by.
Paris was little help. For three hours she’d passed out and had a nap, leaving Eddie to his own, silent thoughts. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders when Daxton called him, and because of this he approached the new Eos group with a renewed vigor. All his thoughts went toward taking the group down, however Marcello planned to do it. Eddie didn’t care how long it took – he was used to being buried neck-deep in red tape and paperwork that could stay stagnant for months at a time. Still, every moment he spent staring down at the streets of The Ring in a noire-like darkness cast over by the glow of artificial light, Eos was proceeding with whatever machinations they had planned. A sense of urgency to make some progress, to put faces to the name, filled Eddie with unease.
He picked up his coffee cup from the ledge he leaned on, arching his back and pushing his legs to stretch with a soft groan. “Don’t they know I’m up here if they’re watching us?” He asked.
“Maybe,” Marcello admitted, “But we know where Tate is. One way or the other, he can’t stay there forever and when he makes a move we’ll have to know.”
“I don’t know if I can stay here forever either,” Eddie sighed, sipping his drink.
Eddie lowered his cup after taking a few swigs of almost pure caffeine. A figure leaving the hotel building caught his eye on the street, so Eddie picked up the binoculars at his side for what felt like the nineteenth time to check on them. “Paris, what did you say this guy looked like?” He double-checked again with his partner.
“Rodent, light, peachy fur, dark brown hair. He wore a suit and dark sunglasses when I encountered him,” She answered, “I also distinctly remember the brand of black shoes he wore. Gregor’s – it was printed on the sole. It was pretty easy to see as he stomped my face in.”
Eddie cringed, but studied the suspect down below. A rodent with light fur and dark hair styled in a topside tuft not unlike Marcello’s own skulked to the midway and made his way down the street. They wore black pants, but a pink over shirt. Eddie waited for one slight turn of the mouse’s head to see that they were adorned in dark shades despite it being so dark.
“Got ‘im,” Eddie breathed, “He’s heading counter-clockwise around the ring on foot.”
“Alright, follow him,” Marcello said, “The fact he’s traveling on foot could mean he wants to stay low and out of sight.”
“Hopefully that he doesn’t have to go far either!” Eddie picked up in a run to the fire exit at the side of the building, his duster fanning through the air as he did his best leap over the edge to grab onto the metal rungs that acted as a ladder all the way down the side of the building. He descended as quickly as possible, leaping down into the alleyway once he got close enough to do so without breaking his legs.
“I hope all that politics hasn’t made you all doughy,” Paris remarked over Eddie’s earpiece.
“I’m not exactly the Tackle-Toss player I used to be,” Eddie quipped back as he ran out onto the street, just able to see Tate in the distance. “I’ve been taking tango lessons with the hubbie lately though,” He finished, huffing as he jogged out to and along the midway to gain some ground on the little rodent.
“Tango with Edward?” Marcello laughed, “I know a couple of people who would have loved to see that back in college. Do you wear the dress or does your husband?”
Eddie scrunched up his brows, suddenly wondering if he’d been being stalked by someone with strange, voyeuristic tendencies. That wasn’t an issue of course, but it was more that he wondered just who would have been so interested in such a minute detail. “Paris, is the person who wants to know, you know… you?” Eddie asked.
“Oh please,” Marcello chortled.
“Well, we both wear the dresses,” Eddie answered, “It looks better on Edward than it does on me though.”
“Tango with dresses…” Marcello sounded like she was writing that down.
Eddie shook his head and slowed to a brisk speed walk when he caught up enough to the shifty rodent ahead of him. He maintained a distance of at least two vehicles long, giving himself several yards so that he may be difficult to recognize. He kept his duster fastened up and his hands in his pockets, the leather fabric flapping in a breeze that should have been impossible in the Earth’s orbit. Eventually the buck snuck off the midway and toward the far side of the road, and stuck to the shadows. The further Tate got toward wherever he was headed, the more cautious he got. Eddie noticed that he’d started to look around.
“What colour is the dress?” Paris chirped into Eddie’s ear.
Eddie made a frustrated sound, “Isn’t there some radio silence thing we should be doing?”
Marcello was heard moving around in bed. “I’m bored. You left me here with nothing to do,” She said, “You could have rented me a vid. So is the dress slit up the side on Edward’s? Probably to about his butt, right?”
“Paris, shut up,” Eddie almost laughed.
The young Arbitrator snuck around in the shadows tailing that mouse for half an hour, having to duck into alleyways and make unnecessary turns at certain block junctions that ultimately ended up coming back to the trans street every time. It was clear that Tate didn’t want to stray from the outer rim of the Ring, right alongside the trains that flew past in flashing their inside lights out their windows, through their transparent tube, and onto the street. They flickered past once every twenty minutes like clockwork, making Eddie have to stop and stay better out of sight. Whenever a train passed him by, Tate stopped and checked around. Between his suspicious behavior and his taking unnecessary turns off the Trans Street, it was clear the mouse was trying to make sure he wasn't followed.
Eddie’s long journey ended at once of the various shipping and receiving docks lining the Ring. Eddie watched as Tate walked the perimeter of the laser fencing until he reached the side receiving area and turned inside. According to the lit up ticker sign that wrapped around the entirety of the central warehouse building, the dock was over Snowden, and was set to remain in-line with the city down below for another whole day. Eddie hurried to catch up, trying to act casual as he stepped into the receiving area and followed Tate through the maze of crates and boxes that were either taken from the surface or set to be delivered at a later date.
Magnetic cranes loomed in the yard, pathways lit surprisingly dimly despite being splashed over by flood lighting. Gravity skids were at times haphazardly left as if abandoned after a long shift for the yard workers. The air smelled faintly of some sort of metal, no foliage or trees around to filter out the oxygen, giving it an “indoor air” sort of feeling. Various labels were plastered onto all the containers of goods with cities and dome names spelled out clearly. Some things were even from Harbington – likely food stores to support the snowy, mountain-dome of Snowden.
Tate took to his PET, his head down and his location made obvious by the glowing backlight of his screen. Eddie followed that light around the shipping yard until Tate began to squeeze between crates and take routes that only a small, slinky thing like him could fit through. Eddie was forced to take longer ways around, just barely able to keep up. Eventually, the little mouse ducked into the midst of large containers seemingly stacked on top of one another like a massive pyramid. Eddie was panting by the time he caught up, sticking close to the containers and peeking just around the corner of one. The way the crates were stacked actually made a small path into the middle of the stack, which closed up above to create a ceiling.
Eddie peeked around, his pack pressed tightly against one of the containers at the makeshift entrance of this strange shelter. “Paris,” He whispered, “Tate’s gone into a receiving dock that’s positioned over Snowden. Dock… 12, I think.”
Peering into the darkness, various figures were inside. The glow of their PETs created an eerie green atmosphere like straight out of a Martian program. It was hard to count the number of bodies huddled in there, but the mouse was certainly among them. “I think he’s meeting with someone,” Eddie finished.
“No doubt his partners in crime,” Marcello commented, “The two from the train and one other that attacked me, plus Tate. You close enough to hear what they’re talking about?”
“Shh,” Eddie hushed the detective and tried hard to hear what the conversation in secret was.
“… don’t know… sign up for this.”
“… they’re wrong…”
“… set up base in Harbington.”
“… of plan. Drop down in Snowden… home.”
Eddie strained his ears and tried to listen as best he could, but he only picked up certain words. It wasn’t long, however, until the people began to shuffle around in their little meeting place. Eddie heard the groaning creak of a shipping container being pulled open, and after a few moments the container closed as quietly as possible. Eddie curiously stepped out from his hiding spot and squeezed into the opening between the containers to see that the conspirators had disappeared… but based on the sound, it seemed like they’d hidden inside one of the containers.
Carefully, Eddie stepped around and pressed his ear up to each one, until he heard the muffled sounds of movement in one of the giant metal crates.
Stepping back, Eddie studied the crate. “Paris, they’re… hiding in one of the containers,” He reported in hushed tones, “Serial number’s S-80014824.”
Paris broke out into laughter on the other end of the communications, but it didn’t last long. “Are they actually trying to do THAT?” She asked, sighing and calming down, “No, that makes sense…”
“What?” Eddie asked.
“These people are using the Ring to get around, and probably to ship their resources around for their effort,” Paris theorized, “They sneak into pre-authorized containers and basically get a free pass wherever they need to go. Odds are they even stockpile the materials they need to create their weaponry into containers already set to be delivered either to or from the Ring. I guess they must move between the docks themselves, shipping between shipping essentially.”
Eddie stared at the crate. “So… they were trying to escape from the Ring by being shipped to Snowden?” He asked.
“Maybe they have to pick stuff up there, maybe they just need a way off the Ring…” Paris said, “Either way, it’s a pretty subtle way to get around if you play your cards right.”
“So what do we do?” Eddie asked, “Arrest them now? I mean, they’re just… sitting in there, not going anywhere.”
“I guess—you know what? No,” Eddie could almost hear Paris smirking over the communicator.
~(_)~
Traveling in a shipping crate was more lavish than one would expect when things were set up properly. The designated crate had enough small sleeping bags and comfortable pillows, food and disposal areas to sustain a group of people for two days. Tate had actually started getting used to it, unlike his companions Edna the beetle, Jack the hare, and Bob the parrot; never was there a more interesting crew.
But now things were getting out of hand. Tate sighed as he rubbed the bruise left by the Harbington Detective on his abdomen, kneading the soft flesh under his pink shirt. It was tender, but the pain was making him realize a few things about just where he was and what he was doing. It occurred to him that the secrecy of being shipped around in shipping crates fixed with secret life support systems was shadier than he was at first willing to admit.
If Eos was so sure that the aliens were bad news, then why hide?
Tate got uncomfortable, but his sudden dour mood reminded him of other things, of a routine he’d been taking to. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small auto-syringe marked with a distinct blue symbol of the male gender and filled with a clear liquid. Casually he uncapped the sharpened needle and stuck it into his thigh, not bothering to remove his pants or roll up the leg. He pushed the button and the syringe sounded off with a satisfying hiss. The feeling of the medicine coursing through his system was calming, likely because it was a combined cocktail of uppers and hormonal treatment.
The crate swayed a little in transport just as he removed the syringe, and he was thankful that it was steady for as long as it was. Tate’s companions swayed as well, sat down or laying down spread our around the crate. There weren’t any actual supplies in the crate anymore – those had been gutted from the thing and transported somewhere into the Ring. The whole metal box was made just to transport people. Tate couldn’t help but think of things like human trafficking, something modern society would love to have simply pegged onto the pre-splice world, but had sadly been present in olden times. Laborers used to be smuggled in and out of settlements, probably in metal boxes not unlike the one Tate was slumped in at that moment.
He who has the people, has the power. He’d been hearing that a lot lately.
“You look like someone killed your cat,” Edna, the rhino beetle, commented. She sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag scrolling through files on her PET. With her glasses off, she had the most interesting solid-looking eyes that adjusted to the low light of the crate. She was pretty beautiful, by Tate’s standards… tall, broad, durable, and her blonde hair was cut straight and business-like, almost like a bowl but longer. Tate was more than intimidate to talk to her though.
“They’re wrong, you know,” She said, “That’s why we do what we do.”
“I… guess,” Tate sighed, “But I… I didn’t think I could beat someone like that.”
Tate fidgeted with his hands. Edna stared at him knowingly, despite seeming blank-eyed. “I thought you said you did a lot of gymnastics,” She said.
“I did. I mean, I do,” Tate fussed, “I just, I mean I didn’t think I could. People don’t… people don’t do that. We just left her unconscious in the alley.”
“Listen,” Bob piped up from where he lay some feet away, packed in close to Jack, “That Detective probably already knows too much and she would’ve shut everything down. Then you wouldn’t have all that extra money and the aliens are just going to crawl all over your home city and nobody’s going to stop them.”
Tate licked his lips uncomfortably and stared down at the used syringe in his hand. “I… I guess,” He repeated.
“Just get some sleep,” Edna suggested.
“… Yeah. I’ll do that,” Tate agreed, capping the empty syringe he used and pocketing it before scrambling up over Jack and Bob to get to his own sleeping bag. He stripped down and wrapped himself up, reaching out to take a bottle of water and keep it nearby before laying his head down.
The next thing he knew, Tate stirred awake when the crate shook and jostled everyone inside it, hitting the ground with a gentle, metallic boom. They must have arrived in Snowden, so he sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning. He carefully tightened the wrap around his chest and stood up, sliding out of the sleeping bag and stretching his lithe body. The others stirred awake as well, with Bob trying to straighten out some of the red feathers on his head.
The crate’s fastens suddenly unlocked, and everyone’s attention was brought to the door. Edna checked the time on her PET, and noon was far too early for those doors to be opening. They weren’t scheduled to leave until the evening!
The door opened to let the cold, snowy air of Snowden in, chilling all the occupants of the crate as they froze, half-dressed and some in the process of tugging on their pants.
Marcello grinned, arms crossed, the leather of her jacket creaking in the silence. “Hey boys and girls!” She beamed.
Officers looked into the crate and pushed past Marcello to apprehend the group inside. Two took to Edna as she struggled and Jack was hauled to his feet in his underwear. Tate stumbled with one leg in his pants and fell to the floor, pleading with the police as they tried gathering him up.
“You’re all under arrest!” Marcello declared cheerfully.
Eddie laughed, his duster and necktie flapping about in the surprisingly windy clime of Snowden. Thick clouds of fluffy snow spread out over the ground, the winds sweeping all the imperfections and marks in the white expanse to a nice, soft, smooth blanket. This was likely for the vacationers’ benefits, but it also brought a sort of serenity to the cold mountain dome, and encouraged its actual residents to stay inside cuddled up with a hot drink and some company. The Eos conspirators couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable as they were marched one by one out of the crate and into the nearby squad cars, a great number of officers from Snowden dome working with the Harbington Detective and Arbitrator pair to take them in.
“You enjoyed that way too much,” Eddie crossed his arms.
Paris turned to Eddie and pushed her hair away from her eyes, lifting her esca away in the process and keeping it from swinging all over the place. “There aren’t many times in your career you can say you caught a suspect literally with their pants down,” She couldn’t stop smiling, “And this is the first big break I’ve gotten in this case! And when I get back to Harbington, I’m going to have just as much fun dragging Marcus Florence in. Can’t a girl enjoy a job well done?”
Eddie chuckled again and watched the Eos members as they were helped into the police cars and closed in, then he watched as the cars lifted off the snowy ground and sped off toward the dome exit. They were well on their way to Harbington now.
“I can’t say I don’t experience a bit of schadenfreude,” He admitted.
Marcello stepped up close and pat Eddie on the chest. “That’s the spirit!” She said, “Now, let’s get some doughnuts and go home, fishy no like snow; need coffee.”
-
--
-
Tate sat down at the table. Across from it was an officer – Officer Victoria, which was their last name, because Victoria would have been an odd name for a male Calico. Then again, who would Tate be to judge?
The little mouse hunched in his seat and he sighed. He didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want anything to do with this whole thing anymore.
“I’m telling you, I don’t know who’s behind all this stuff,” Tate said, “Honest! None of us know! We just do what we’re told and… nobody’s told us who’s doing the telling!”
“So you don’t know the name of ANY of your superiors?” Officer Victoria asked, leaning on the table exasperatedly and rubbing his face, “I find that hard to believe.”
Tate retreated, suddenly very nervous. “L-Listen I don’t want to do this anymore,” He said, “I just want to go home. I-I just wanted… I mean I just got…”
The door to the interrogation room opened and Marcello stepped inside. She closed the door behind her calmly and moved over to the table. She pulled a chair from the side of the room to the table, dragging the metal legs the whole way to roughly plant them next to Victoria’s chair. The officer sat up straight and stared at Marcello like she had just walked in on him in the shower.
“Detective this is an interrogation, you can’t just…!”
“I know,” Marcello planted her butt in the chair and scooted forward to lean in almost menacingly at Tate, whose eyes got big. “Well congratulations, Tate, you and your friends single-handedly got security sector jobs boosted way up on shipping and receiving platforms. Way to take it to those aliens. Increasing the job market will really show them what’s what.”
Tate got flustered rather quickly, looking embarrassed and ashamed all at once. He sunk in his chair and hugged his arms around his slender chest.
“You’re pretty quiet,” Marcello noted, “Oh! Maybe I’m using the wrong name. Maybe you’d prefer Tatianna Jacobs?”
“That is not my name,” Tate focused an angry glare at the detective.
Marcello sat back and kicked her feet up onto the table, pushing her chair off two legs. “We managed to snag a reference in your file to your old name, before you… changed. It’s going pretty well, I have to say – you’re a pretty cute boy now. But this…”
Marcello reached into her pocket and produced the stainless steel syringe cartridge that Tate had injected the most recently into his body. The mouse’s chest-wrapping felt a bit tighter than usual with how his breathing picked up as he stared at it. Marcello put it down on the table in plain sight of Tate and the other officer, letting her chair drop again to do it.
“Look, medicine is free,” Marcello said, “When a citizen is taken to an illness or is injured, they deserve the utmost care that we can provide – and Harbington can provide some of the best. But elective medicines, well that’s a bit different. A sex-change is a choice, and because of that we gotta put a little bit into the system, something to give our good old hospitals the funds to get new, better equipment so that people who need treatment get the absolute best. This stuff though? That syringe is insane.”
Tate, red in the face, dug his bucked teeth into his soft lower lip for a moment and simply dragged the skin under them. “What do you mean it’s insane?” He asked, “It’s just hormones in a bottle. It’s just to fix a gland.”
“Chemical analysis says differently,” Marcello turned serious, “This is a little more than just testosterone; you’ve got anabolic steroids, SSRIs, and a vitamin smorgasbord. I bet it’d take a bit more effort to break your arm than it would mine, huh? What you’ve got in here isn’t just going to make you a boy, Tate… What you’ve got in this little vial is going to make you happier, more confident, faster, stronger, more durable…”
Tate creased his brows, his lips parting into a confused and slightly morbid expression. “What?” He asked. He’d never heard any of this before about his medication.
Officer Victoria stared at Marcello. “Really?” He asked, taking his officer’s hat off his head and scratching the short brown hair beneath, “So, what, like some kind of super vitamin?”
“A physical enhancement that falls perfectly in line with hundred-year-old performance enhancers once taken by our soldiers in the olden days,” Marcello leaned forward and snatched the syringe off the table, holding it up to Tate’s face. “Where did you get this?” She asked.
Tate reeled in visible shock. “That’s not right!” He squeaked, “That’s just hormones! I told you I-I have a damaged gland, I…! You’re just trying to scare me!”
“I should do way worse to you after what you did to me,” Marcello waved the syringe around towards Tate’s face, “But what’s really scary? You’re currently working for a terrorist organization who’s gone ahead and occupied Harbington. The weapons were one thing, but this is way across the line. You’re a pawn in some elaborate plan put into place by people who are outfitted for war, Tate. Do you honestly think that Eos has your best interests in mind? Do you really think they have anyone’s best interest in mind?”
“T-They saved Harbington from the aliens!” Tate babbled back, “T-They did it when no one else could have! R-Right now there are inky aliens all over Locksmouth, we don’t want to end up like that, right?”
“You don’t even live here,” Marcello fired back, “You’re more concerned about getting the Inklings out of Locksmouth than you are about what happens here. So what’s the plan? How exactly is Eos going to accomplish that? What exactly are they going to do for you, aside from give you the best way to change your gender you’ve ever seen in your life? Is that what they used to get you in? Do they have access to high-tech medical solutions?”
Tate’s eyes flickered all around the room as he was hit with a barrage of questions. Marcello continued, “They cleared out the warehouse in Locksmouth, didn’t they? They’re moving and hiding the weapons out of sight using the same trick you guys were using to get out of the Ring, aren’t they? That’s how you guys operate!”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, I h-have a prescription for that syringe!” Tate squeaked back defensively.
“All you have to do is tell us something, anything! Who gives you the orders? Where do the messages come from? What else are you smuggling? Why attack Eddie and me?” Marcello leaned over the table and slammed the syringe down, “Is this really worth it? Are you really willing to turn one hundred years of peace on its head just so you can have a needle?”
“I wanted this! I’m not a girl!” Tate banged on the table with a clenched fist.
“And you couldn’t get it fast enough, could you?” Marcello narrowed her eyes, “So along comes this recruitment agent, like a snake in the garden, whispering sweet little nothings to you. They gave you exactly what you wanted and all you had to do was ask how high when they told you to jump.”
“It’s not just about that!” Tate screamed, “The aliens are bad! They’re bad bad bad! They’re going to take us over! They have to go! It’s either them or us!”
“Who gave you the needle, Tate?” Marcello drilled the question into the mouse, “Who?”
“I don’t know!” Tate yelled in Marcello’s face.
“Don’t you lie to me!” Marcello raised her voice back, “Who was it?! I know you worked for Lo-Tec, I know they’re in on this! I know they have the authorization to clear you and your thug pals into the shipping crates, so just tell me! Or do you want to spend the next few months strapped into a bullet?”
“W… What?!” Tate’s voice cracked, “You can’t!”
“Tatianna, you fess up or I’ll find a way to keep you in that brain vacuum longer, I swear!” Marcello applied a stern tone and rose from her chair.
“No!” The mouse screamed, sputtering into blubbering sobs. He collapsed onto the table and lowered his head to hide his face against his arms, crying out loud.
Marcello swallowed, sitting back. Playing Bad Cop was hard, especially when your Good Cop just sits there staring at you like you’re a monster with two heads, like Officer Victoria was doing. It always looked so much easier in the stories, but now she might have taken it a bit too far. Marcello sat up in her chair and let out a slow breath. Maybe she was wrong? Tate was supposed to be emotional, sensitive from the hormone treatment… surely, she thought, just poking him, threatening him a little, it was supposed to make him crack like an egg. It was the next piece of the puzzle!
But there he sat, a sobbing pile of rodent.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” The detective said.
Officer Victoria finally spoke up, “Marcello, get out of here.”
The detective pushed her chair back and stood, prepared to skulk out of the room when Tate muffled a sentence. It stopped Marcello in her tracks, and she turned her attention to the little mouse. “What did you just say?” She asked.
“In multitudine virtutis,” Tate lifted his head, wiping the tears off his face, “He who has the people has the power. They always sign off their messages like that… it comes from someone just called J.W. I don’t know who that is… The messages delete themselves off our PETs and we can’t respond to them. They give us our orders…”
J.W? Initials? Marcello’s eyes shifted left and right as she searched her thoughts, the new clue turning gears in her head.
“Don’t make me go to the bullet,” Tate sobbed, “I didn’t know! I didn’t know about the medicine, I just… I just wanted to be my normal self.”
“I’m… sorry… I just…” Tate lowered his head again and continued to bawl.
Marcello took a deep, slow breath. “Well, thank you for your cooperation,” She said, “… But I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do to keep you out of correctional.”
“No, no… no no…” Tate shook his head back and forth, grinding his face against his arms, “No, no, no…!”
Marcello averted her gaze, sucking on her lips. Officer Victoria turned his attention to Tate and said, “We can reduce sentence for those who cooperate, you won’t be in there for long. We’ll do everything we can just as long as you work with us, okay?”
“I’m not weird, there’s nothing wrong with me…” Tate sobbed, sounding as if he wasn’t even in the room anymore.
Marcello exited the interrogation room and turned down the hall. The door next to it flew open and Eddie stepped out to approach her quickly.
Eddie was flustered, “What the heck were you doing in there?”
“Getting answers,” Marcello responded, almost stone cold, “Eddie, we’re not playing around with these guys anymore. They attacked us, they stopped us from being around when Eos came marching in. They’re playing hard-ball.”
The buck couldn’t argue with that, and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his duster to sulk. Getting back into Harbington felt disgustingly foreign with the presence of Eos… the police station itself seemed bare of them, aside from the occasional liaison that would pass through back and forth.
“Were you even listening to the rest of that?” Marcello asked, turning and looking straight up at Eddie, “Tate sounds less like a soldier and more like an experiment. He had no idea what that stuff was doing to him, and all he had was a busted gland! If he kept taking that stuff? I bet he could’ve fought off all the Snowden police when we came looking for him.”
“Who the hell would even do that?” Eddie whispered.
“We’re definitely going to run drug tests on the rest of them now,” She said, “But we have something, at least. A motto and J.W, whatever that means. I swear that some big, resourceful powerhouse is backing these guys, I just need to find out who exactly.”
Eddie sighed, but heard his PET sounding off the familiar ringtone he’d assigned to his husband. “Get those drug tests finalized and publicized, and get a consented confession out of at least one of them and we can run it all in the news. If we get people back on our side we might be able to nab them,” He said before pulled the clunky gray box from his duster’s inside pocket and answered the call. “Hey hun, what’s going on?”
“Eddie, get back home right now!” The beaver looked flustered and a little panicky, “A space alien just dropped off a husky at the house.”
“What?” Eddie’s face screwed into a confused expression.
“Through our mirror,” Edward finished.
-
--
-
“You think he’ll be able to do it?” Carrie asked as Echelon stepped out of Kelvalde’s full-length mirror like she was emerging from a vertical pool. Her inky, pink-tinged skin peeled back from Natalie’s face as the inkling receded into her.
“I think so,” The wolf girl said, “He had a point when he said that nobody would suspect him. I don’t even think most people know Kelvalde exists. If anyone’s going to walk around Harbington and find out just what Eos is up to, it’s him. I mean, it’s not like we can do it.”
Jacent stood off to the side, absently admiring some of Kelvalde’s more Victorian bedroom trappings that reminded him of old remodeled homes from his own time. “I’m surprised he wanted to do it,” The boy said, “He’s not usually that… pro-active.”
Carrie shrugged, “He’s not going out to wage a war, he’s just snooping around and coming back.”
“Exactly,” Natalie said, “I think he’ll be just fine.”
“So what now?” Jacent asked, “How can we prepare ourselves in the meantime?”
Natalie leaned back against the mirror in thought, her butt making contact with the glass before her back did. “Maybe… when Quincey’s ready, we should try and get in touch with someone from Eos,” She suggested.
Carrie looked confused. “They clearly hate Inklings, so what good is that gonna do?” She asked.
“It’s just diplomacy, and not the worst idea,” Jacent supplemented, “It’s not like we’re attempting to hide, or that we even could. They know where we are and we know their promise to Harbington is to rescue Quincey from our villainous clutches.”
He made finger-quotes as he described their care as villainous.
“Quincey said herself she doesn’t want to go home, so I think she should have a chance to talk to them herself,” Natalie said, “At least then people might not think we’re holding her hostage or something.”
“Because we’re not,” Carrie affirmed, “If she wanted to go, she’d be on the next train outta here.”
The three of them took breaths and sighed them out. Jacent started to pace as he rubbed his neck. “It depends on how they react, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Eos won’t simply let things go. They claim to be able to fight the Inklings and I’m certain that is their intent,” He suggested, “I do not think that returning Quincey would solve our problems.”
“It could be dangerous for her,” Carrie said, “She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who can deal with stuff like that.”
“Do you think Eos would come here and try and do something?” Natalie asked.
“I think we should try to be prepared just in case,” Jacent recommended, “Err on the side of caution. We don’t know what they’re capable of, but if they’re collected enough to take down some of the alien creatures we once fought, we shouldn’t treat them lightly.”
Natalie crossed her arms. “I should get the police to keep a lookout,” She said.
Carrie looked back and forth between Natalie and Jacent. “And what about this Inkling core or whatever? What’s it called?”
“Epheral,” Jacent answered, “And all we know is that it’s coming. We don’t know when it will arrive or what might happen. We should focus on the problems we can face first.”
“Right,” Natalie pushed off the mirror with a bounce and relaxed. “Well, I guess all we can do now is get to know our new friends,” She said, “At least until something happens.”
Carrie huffed, “I hate all this waiting around.”
Natalie noted her girlfriend’s discontent, but didn’t want to get snippy with her. Instead she left the room to go search for Quincey and her pack. Naturally they were right where she’d left them, sitting around a spacious and mostly empty dining table, with Sam sitting nearby but not really involved. Natalie noted that Quincey’s pack was rather quiet, looking more awkward than they had when they’d just arrived. She supposed that would happen when it turns out that your end goal isn’t the end of the journey. After walking all the way there, they couldn’t just go home.
Natalie approached to where she hoped she would be noticed by Quincey. The girl looked up from Natalie’s PET and quickly handed it back to her. “How did things go?” Natalie asked as she accepted the device.
Quincey looked depressingly morose. “Dad… was really mad,” She said, “He just wants me to listen to Eos and come back home. He wants me to get rid of the Inkling. My mom just cried.”
“Yeah my Dad was pissed too,” Kenny added, sitting a couple seats away from the pig. The tone of his voice barely veiled how much he agreed with their fathers.
“All our parents ain’t happy about this,” Laila finalized, “Everyone’s was ticked except Daxton’s, they’re just worried. My parents are gonna kill me for what I did to my truck, I think.”
“They’re all probably worried, they’re just scared,” Carrie walked up next to her girlfriend, “You kinda get that a lot in this line of work.”
“This isn’t work,” Kenny stressed, raking his fingertips over the polished wooden top of Kelvalde’s dining table, “This isn’t a job. We’re not alien… super heroes or whatever. We’re not like you.”
While Kenny’s scathing tone thoroughly angered Carrie, even she had to admit that the boy had a point. These Harbington kids, they weren’t like them. Natalie and her pack were heroes, for better or for worse. They were coming to realize that the “worse” part of heroism was something very real, something they really hadn’t considered before. It was one thing to save people during an invasion where the goal was clear and the end-boss was ever-present… but now the things cropping up in the aftermath were just residual, unintended circumstances directly related to that.
Natalie wanted so badly to just make everything better for them. She felt responsible for them then, and until they could sort out what could be done she had to care for them. It was all easier said than done; even Jacent, who had dealt with all sides of being the hero before, couldn’t do much more than sit on his hands.
“Well…” Natalie thought things over a little bit, “Um, we have some plans I guess, but it’s a whenever-you’re-ready kind of thing.”
Daxton, who sat sideways in Quincey’s lap, hugged the girl close. Quincey just laid her head on Daxton’s chest, trying to relax. “What’s the plan?” He asked.
Natalie lifted her rear onto the table and slid back until her knees were flush over the edge of it. She sat down facing the group, gathering all their attention. “Well, we need to get in touch with Eos,” Natalie said, “And have Quincey tell them she’s staying here for a while. Maybe they won’t come barking if she personally refuses.”
Quincey just made a sad sound, sighing as she hugged Daxton tightly to her. Carrie did her best to be empathetic as she placed a hand on Quincey’s shoulder. “It sucks,” The cat said, “But it needs to be done.”
“Okay, what about Duplex then?” Laila asked.
“Well, I have a theory about that, actually,” Sam cut in from the other end of the table, sitting demurely in her seat and having waited patiently for her opportunity to speak. Her soft but regal voice commanded the attention, so it was no surprise that all eyes were upon her in a moment. She relished in the attention, but passed it off as nothing as she fussed over her nails.
Even Jacent seemed surprised as he stood behind her seat, his hands on her shoulders. “What’s that?” He asked. It seemed Sam wouldn’t go on unless someone expressly inquired.
“Well,” The bat looked up to everyone with a little bounce that waved her soft golden hair, “You see, as I was putting away the dishes after dinner, Mhend and I pondered over your situation and just what might be preventing Duplex from, erm… forming, I guess one might say.”
“And?” Carrie pressed her.
Sam smiled, proud of herself and her Inkling companion. “Well, with Mhend’s knowledge of Inkling ‘physiology…’”
The bat made finger-quotes.
“… You understand that Inklings, in order to live in our world, are under a sort of strain, yes?” She continued, “They bleed away and need to retreat into their hosts in order to rest and recuperate. The Greys can barely cover a host for very long lest they risk going absolutely mad from basically dissolving, whereas more powerful Inklings, Elites like Mhend, can linger longer on this… oh, what would you call it…? Ah, our ‘plane.’ It all comes back to prana, and being able to store it and use it efficiently.”
The teens stared at her, the Harbington kids especially. The only one of the foreign group who had even the slightest understanding of what the little bat was talking about was Quincey. Laila blinked her eyes slowly and only made a sound: “Uhh…”
Carrie looked at the other kids and then back to Sam. “You might want to get to the point,” She said, “I think you’re losing us.”
Sam groused, “Well you can’t rush genius, honestly. Fine, fine, the point is, based on what Natalie informed us of before dinner, is that Duplex sounds less like a normal Inkling and more like a movie monster – all stitched together. That is to say, it may not be able to maintain a form in our world for very long, like a Grey might, or perhaps worse than a Grey might, without help.”
“Inklings have an easier time in Canvas,” Sam finally got to her last breath, “Perhaps if we can get it there, it may be able to… well, pop right back out again! Then we can help it with it being an active patient. Giving it prana may be easier if we can touch it directly.”
While the room was split in understanding just what such a plain would entail, the Locksmouth kids considered it with a bit of expertise in the area. Natalie in particular stroked her chin in thought, a concentrated stare in her eyes. Her tail twitched one way, then another, and then she turned her attention across the table to Sam. “But you know what happens when regular people go to Canvas, right? You remember, don’t you?” She asked.
Quincey was unnerved by that. “W-What?” She asked, “What happens?”
Sam shrunk in her seat a little, grinning sheepishly. “There’s a small matter of, um… gravity, dear,” She explained, “Canvas is, well… well, imagine trying to flatten yourself into a picture or something.”
“It’s gonna crush her?!” Daxton said, “No way! You can’t do that!”
Sam sucked in her lips and sat back quietly, now questioning her idea. Natalie cut in to assuage the Harbington kids’ concerns. “It’s not like a black hole or something, it’s not just going to crush her. It’s just… heavier,” She said, “As far as the theory goes… it sounds kind of… sound, actually.”
“No, no,” Daxton stood up from Quincey’s lap and tried to impress himself into the conversation by leaning against the table, “That sounds dangerous! Why can’t we… why can’t she just give Duplex to me? I’ll go in there so she doesn’t have to.”
Quincey, Kenny, and Laila all seemed to gasp at the suggestion. “Daxton, honey, you heard Natalie sayin’ that Duplex can’t even survive bein’ taken outta her right now?” Laila said, “It sure can’t survive bein’ put into you then!”
“That’s basically it,” Natalie confirmed.
“Daxton…” Quincey reached out and grabbed onto the long coat that Casey had given him, and she bunched the fabric of it up in her fist. Daxton grimaced, not turning to face her, but then he didn’t have to in order to see her sad expression. He softened, if just a little, and eased up.
“There’s gotta be a better way,” Daxton said, “I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“This would be the fastest way, if it works,” Sam interjected, “Otherwise we’d be waiting to see if Duplex can recover on its own, and we have no idea how long that would take.”
Natalie nodded. “If we can get Duplex well enough, we can take it out and send you all back home,” She said, “It should work, so I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. It’s just going to take a little time.”
The Harbington kids couldn’t hide their displeasure at the idea of things taking even more time than they already had.
“We can try that right now,” Natalie suggested, “And while we do that, maybe you guys can just relax a bit? We can get your PETs replaced and stuff, just so you’re not sitting around waiting for us to be finished.”
The Harbington kids seemed to hum and haw over the idea for a few moments, just staring at one another for answers. Eventually Daxton turned, squat down, and gave Quincey’s thighs a squeeze and looked at her. She looked at him almost tiredly. “What do you think?” He asked, “You up for it?”
“I guess,” Quincey surrendered, rubbing her eyes under her glasses, “I’m sorry, I’m just… being stupid.”
“You’re not being stupid,” Jacent piped up from where he stood over Sam, his hands on the bat’s shoulders, “Not everyone can say they’ve had this kind of thing happen to them, Quincey. You’re understandably exhausted… it’s a tiring position to be in.”
Quincey sat up and looked across the table at Jacent. Somehow hearing him sympathize with her made her feel better than it probably should have. “I… guess so,” She nodded, “I’m just not… I don’t know. I’m worried, about everything.”
Carrie leaned back against the table, bumping shoulders with Natalie. “Well, if you want to get that Inkling out of you, this is the way to do it,” She said, “It won’t even be that bad. Canvas is… alright, I guess. It’s a little, uh… flat, but it’s pretty alright. Nat wasn’t kidding when she said that Duplex can siphon some extra prana over there. We’ve got a whole stockpile of the stuff we’ve been sharing with the Greys. It’ll be enough to wake it up at least.”
“Baby steps, I suppose,” Daxton breathed, turning his attention to Quincey, “Look, I wish I could go in there with you. I guess I’ll just be right out here until you get back. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Is it really okay?” Quincey asked, “I know you don’t want to be here, but…”
“Your safety comes first,” Laila said, “Right Kenny?”
Kenny nodded his head, a little somberly. “Yeah, yeah,” He answered, “Just do it. We’ll… grab you something to eat for when you’re done. Like a cinnamon bun or something, right?”
For the first time since dinner, Quincey smiled a little. “Thanks,” She stood up, taking Daxton’s hands and rising with him. She gave sweet kisses to her puppy boyfriend on both cheeks and then hugged him tight. They embraced for a short while, and then Quincey detached herself from him to step closer to Natalie. “Okay,” She said, “Let’s do it.”
“Perhaps I should accompany you,” Sam suggested, shoving off her seat. Her feet hit the floor with perhaps a bit more weight than one would expect from her.
“That might be a good idea,” Natalie said, “Carr-bear? Can you take care of the others while we’re trying this out?”
“Sure, yeah,” Carrie raised her arms in a shrug, “I guess I can show them around or whatever, get them some PETs activated or something.”
“What, for all of us?” Kenny looked surprised.
“Sure,” Carrie shrugged, then looked pointedly at Kenny, “But only if you relax and stop being such a spaz.”
“I’m not being a spaz!” Kenny glared at the cat.
“You’re bein’ a spaz,” Laila reached aside and ground her knuckles playfully into Kenny’s head. The lemming boy fussed and pulled away from the giraffe into a fluid standing up so he could skulk away.
“Yeah, this’ll be a treat,” Carrie sighed, but she didn’t remove the grin from her face. Stepping over to Natalie she gave her girlfriend a quick kiss on the cheek and the two of them shared an affectionate squeeze before the cat departed. Laila rose tall from her seat and followed behind, nearly obscuring Carrie by overshadowing her out the door. Jacent, who had been standing quietly, gave a gentle wave to Natalie and Samantha both before trailing behind the others.
Quincey and Daxton lingered around Sam and Nat until the two of them were ready to escort them. Once Carrie was gone Natalie turned to the small group and asked, “Alright, ready? Let’s go.”
Natalie lead the group back through the house with Samantha close behind. The wolf and bat walked knowing exactly where to go, but Daxton and Quincey weren’t as certain in their stride. Quincey grabbed hold of Daxton’s hand, and the two of them looked at one another to assure each other that things would be okay. Every fiber of their being was missing their homes and their regular lives, but they were too far gone then to go back. It wasn’t even simply for the fact that an Inkling had imposed itself upon them. Home had also changed with Eos being around. It felt like even if they could return, it would be to an unfamiliar place.
Some could have brushed it off by saying things changed. Things did change, and things had already been changing, but never had they changed so drastically. Laila joining the pack was the last big adjustment Daxton could remember having to endure, and that was just mashing a puzzle piece that didn’t fit into a place until it did fit. He was good at that sort of “hit your head on it until it works” situation; the sort of self-change that didn’t have a greater effect outside of one’s own circle. This new situation was different. They had to dip their toes into a whole other reality where super heroes were real, a pre-splice human walked among the populace, and people were scared and confused. Out of everything, Daxton had never seen so many people act that way.
What’s more, Quincey was changing, and it was frightening. In any other situation, Daxton could have shouldered the burden for her and taken the brunt of what would come. That was his role in life, and that was what he was used to. Duplex flipped everything on its head by being something that only Quincey could handle. Daxton couldn’t do anything to help her deal with something that was inside her… even if he was inside her too, in a way. It felt invasive, like Duplex was getting into something meant for Daxton. The boy held Quincey’s hand and didn’t want to let go. What was different was that Quincey was willing to go, even if it had seemed like she’d only surrendered to the idea, tired of fighting it anymore.
“So, where is Canvas?” Daxton asked as Natalie once again opened the door to Kelvalde’s bedroom where Quincey had woken up. The full-length mirror stood clean and ready, not a mark or scuff on its reflective surface showing their faces back at them. Something about their reflection didn’t look right, like they’d aged overnight.
“It’s in here,” Natalie gestured to the mirror, “I can get Quincey there using mirror slide.”
“Mirror slide?” Quincey held close to Daxton in confusion.
“I just did it a little while ago to get Kelvalde to Harbington thanks to your dad, Daxton,” Natalie explained. Daxton, not having been privy to the details of just how Kelvalde was to get to Harbington, perked his ears.
“Basically Inklings can travel through reflective surfaces. Every mirror is a gateway to Canvas,” Sam explained, “Every single one from here to Harbington and beyond.”
Quincey blinked, and Daxton would have too if he could. “Wow, you mean you could go anywhere in the world?” Daxton asked.
“Kind of, yes,” Natalie said. In a few moments, the inky black, pink-shined skin of Echelon began to cover her body. It was so strange to see, like ink pooling out of her pores to somehow make a rubber-esque suit around her body. It took every contour of her and sharply accentuated it, like she was naked even though she’d been wearing clothes just moments before. Echelon’s eyes and mouth were bold and pink and she spoke with a voice that was both Natalie’s and not at the same time.
Samantha inked over too, and it was the second time Daxton had seen it but the first time Quincey had. The pig stared as Samantha’s body appeared to be wrapped similarly in bubblegum pink, with bright white eyes and a blank white mouth. Her puffed-up bouffant looked like a glossy pink bubble on her head, bouncing and waving in a vague mimicry of hair. It wasn’t hard to notice that Sam had one metal leg when that happened, as her Inkling didn’t seem intent on covering it up the same way it did the rest of her body. It drew more attention to the metal appendage that had been so casually subdued before. Quincey and Daxton hadn’t even really noticed it at first.
It was strange to see other people ink over like that… Quincey hadn’t even really seen herself do it. It was scary when she saw it swallowing up her hands, but for Sam and Nat it seemed natural… they didn’t even flinch.
“Unfortunately you’ll have to stay here,” Sam pointed a dainty finger at Daxton, lightly poking his broad chest. Daxton’s lips rounded to a confused pucker. “As we said, regular people in Canvas have no chance, so we can’t bring you,” Sam explained, “You’ll have to stay here and wait. Are you sure you don’t want to go with the others?”
Daxton shook his head. “No way, I…” He paused and looked at Quincey, then back at Natalie and Samantha, “Quincey’s my girlfriend. I wanna be right here when she gets back.”
Quincey’s cheeks burned and she gently nuzzled Daxton’s shoulder.
Sam and Nat smiled. The bat waved a wrist. “Well in that case, we wouldn’t dream of stopping you,” Sam said, “But you will have to let go of her for a while. Don’t fret, we won’t allow her to come to any great harm.”
Quincey stepped away from Daxton and their hands slipped away from one another’s. She stepped up to the mirror with Natalie and Samantha’s inked forms at either side of her, and Daxton watching from behind. She stared at her own reflection, nervously fussing with the wrap-around green sweater that exposed her shoulders. She looked so uncertain, unable to mask her emotions even the slightest bit.
Natalie put her inky hand on Quincey’s bare shoulder assuredly. She felt oddly smooth and surprisingly warm. She gently lowered that hand then to take Quincey’s. Their fingers intertwined. “Hold on, okay? You need to keep holding on so I can take you with me,” The blobby wolf said. Samantha took hold of Quincey’s other hand. The bat’s fingers were so small compared to hers. Quincey nodded, sucking in an apprehensive breath and holding it as Natalie reached out and touched the mirror. The surface rippled at her touch, and she began to step forward and lead them inside.
Quincey looked back one last time at Daxton as she stepped along in tow, passing through the mirror like a surface of water. She sunk into it with a heavy ripple along the glass, and Sam stepped in like a little dollop behind her. The mirror continued to ripple like a pond for a few moments, then fell still again. Daxton was left by himself in the room, staring at his reflection in the mirror and trying to understand what he’d just watched.
He stepped up to the mirror and poked the glass, pushing the mirror to wobble it on its stand. “Oh man…” He muttered, letting out a breath.
-
--
-
One thing Quincey hadn’t expected was how gut-churning an experience a mirror slide would be. Like suddenly going up and down over steep hills in a car, she felt what could only be described as free-fall in multiple directions. Up, own, left, right, the orientation stopped making any sort of sense, and the sensation of falling didn’t follow the simple rules pf physics or gravity that she was used to. Samantha and Natalie were right there with her during the brief experience, but it seemed as if only her head was spinning and her body was swaying and they were somehow fine.
Next thing she knew, she was deposited somewhere else. She felt like she was shoved out of a door and into the outside world, where her body immediately crashed to the ground. Far heavier than she should have been, she collapsed onto her front letting go of Natalie and Samantha’s hands and finding herself pinned. She didn’t have time to study her surroundings as her fat left cheek pancaked beneath her face, her lips puckering as she was squished out. They weren’t kidding when they said that gravity was different there, it felt a hundred times heavier than back on Earth.
“Owwww…!” Quincey whined, closing her teary eyes tight. She balled her fingers into fists, barely able to lift her hands to do so, and she pushed up with her arms. Her face went red and her breath caught as she struggled, not able to lift more than a few centimeters before she gave out and fell flat again. The heavy feeling made her back hurt, and her toes were uncomfortably crushed beneath her own feet.
Natalie, or Echelon rather, knelt down next to her and placed a hand on her back. It didn’t weigh her down, seeming as if the Inklings’ gravity was entirely different from her own. Quincey was able to look up at her without lifting her head, and was able to see the wolf’s inky features elongated vertically, but warped and compressed horizontally, like everything was trying to flatten out. “Reach down deep and call for your Inkling,” She said, “Wake it up.”
“You can do it!” Mhend concurred.
Quincey closed her eyes and struggled to sputter the Inkling’s name. “Duplex!” She grunted, her face going plenty red. It felt like she was ready to pop a vessel.
Nothing happened, and so Quincey called out again. “Duplex! Duplex help me!” She begged.
“Hnnnngh!” Quincey cried out as it felt like she was going to be flattened completely, only to have that familiar silvery flesh cover her body in a hot minute. It burst from her and snapped around her like a trap, conforming to every contour of her form and shielding her from the world she found herself in. Quincey’s head spun, and Canvas seemed to turn and shift until she wasn’t looking from her own eyes, but rather from somewhere else. Everything became two-dimensional, and she saw herself in a strange profile laying on the floor between one black Inkling and one pink one.
She saw herself, or Duplex rather, in a castle. The gray brick and mortar that made up the walls looked like a drawn-in cartoon background. Certain elements were missing, such as certain shadows, making the room look brighter than it probably should have. The sky out the flat windows looked like a green Aurora Borealis twisting in a dark miasma. Some sconces on the walls were drawn on with thick lines and modest wooden detail, and the fire looked like a simple, waving, static piece of paper with a diffused glow coming from its center. It was somehow warm, and Duplex could feel it as it blinked its blue eyes and slowly rose from the floor.
There was a shining mirror on the wall that glimmered and sheened at regular intervals as if to imply a hidden purpose and draw the curious eye. It should have been behind them, but instead “behind” became “beside,” as the “background” and “foreground” were completely different in orientation. Front and back simply became left and right, with Mhend standing to the left of the silver pig and Echelon on the right. Their features moved around on their faces without them turning their heads, the shine on their inky bodies moving to mimic of making small movements… but unless Duplex's inky, flat body actually flipped, it was facing in but one direction.
Duplex let out a silent gasp as it looked around, rising weakly to its feet with a little turn that flipped it from facing Echelon to facing Mhend.
“Canvas!” Duplex spoke, and it became clear to Quincey that she was watching Duplex, as if in a dream. The Inkling’s body flipped like a piece of paper a few more times and it tried to formulate a question, “Where…?”
Echelon stood, relieved. “This is Castle Blackwolf,” She explained.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that name…” Mhend bobbed . They all kind of jostled up and down when they spoke, like a cartoon.
Duplex blinked its eyes rapidly, looking between Echelon and Mhend. “E-Echelon!” It squealed, “Quincey… arrived in Locksmouth? Are we not… dead?”
Mhend placed her hands on Duplex’s shoulders and rubbed them. Her white eyes closed flat and she concentrated on feeding the poor, confused Inkling some prana. There was much of it to go around in Castle Blackwolf, the very walls being constructed from the stuff. With her concentration, the pink Inkling could feel Duplex’s inky skin differently than it appeared. Running her fingers along it, she felt cracks and crevasses, ridges and bumps, like it’d been pulled apart and fused back together many times. It felt weak, as kneading into it threatened to crack the fracturing lines beneath. Mhend focused her time and energy into filling these unseen crevasses in Duplex’s being.
Duplex shuddered sickly, wrapping its arms around itself and feeling a wave of disorientation wash over it. While most Inklings felt warm and filled by prana, Duplex had begun to feel ill when exposed to it. That feeling washed over it as Mhend worked, and its expression reflected the discomfort. Echelon watched this closely, observing Duplex’s behavior when exposed to more direct treatment. Samantha and Mhend had come through for the Inkling, but it was clear that the solution was more of a patch than a proper fix.
“You really are an amalgamation…” Echelon spoke in wonder, staring at Duplex’s body. Its silvery colour was warped with rippling prismatic rainbows, dull as they may be… like gasoline in a body of water.
Mhend removed her hands and frowned. “Duplex feels... broken,” She said, “Broken apart and crudely taped back together again… over and over. It’s not something I can simply heal.”
Duplex shuddered an exhale, stumbling forward to be caught be Echelon who helped hold it up. “We… we…” It seemed at a loss for words.
“Tranquil and Dormence,” Echelon urged the Inkling to look up at her, “You’re two broken bodies made into one whole. Quincey told us.”
“…” Duplex said little, and appeared somber. Its eyes moved, seemingly staring past Echelon, “This place…”
Visions panned to the rest of the room, a grand hall with a number of Grey Inklings milling about. They lacked shine and only popped from the walls due to their shade, otherwise they may have blended right in. They paced and trundled about, though not anxiously. They seemed to simply be wandering around, and one was even humming a little tune, albeit lacking rhythm. Another seemed to be tidying up a banner of white with a pink ornate skull hanging from the wall. Duplex watched this with fascination.
“What is this place?” Duplex asked.
“It’s a home,” Echelon explained.
Duplex silently laughed. It may have been one sputter of breath tinged by the corners of a smile, an action that shook its rotund inky body, but it was an act of joy. A home… the idea of a home in Canvas had once occurred to it in two separate minds. It was that very idea that saw it banished from Canvas, and the very idea that was meant to have it destroyed. The former ruler had no interest in the idea… Osoth thought it foolish when other worlds suited them so much better. Even in all its time in open space, on all the worlds Epheral had torn holes to, the idea of a home had never settled with Duplex… and yet there Echelon was, the would-be scourge of the former ruling body, having built a palace brick by brick to be just that.
“Oh…” Duplex slipped away from Echelon’s grasp and fell to its knees on the floor, flattening its palms out over the prana-made-stone. It felt over the smooth texture of the ground, sliding out across the floor, soaking in the feeling of the prana that made its head spin. It felt like a dream.
“I think she likes it here,” Mhend mused.
“Agreed,” Echelon nodded with a smile.
“How is this possible?” Duplex asked, sitting up on its knees and staring at Echelon.
Echelon turned, her bulbous butt wiggling startlingly in Duplex’s face, making the silver Inkling squeak and making Mhend snigger. “This wouldn’t have been possible without the humans,” Echelon said, “They have proven to be hosts beyond our expectations.”
Duplex stared at the floor in thought, puckering its mouth and rubbing its chin. Hosts with enough prana to both sustain an Inkling and build a home in Canvas? That they had such a connection, such a range of mind, was fascinating. Duplex had been bonded with Quincey for some time, and it hadn’t occurred to it that a human could be capable of so much… it certainly hadn’t felt like Quincey could provide half that much.
“You’re fortunate to have bonded with a human, in fact,” Mhend commented, “I suspect that if it wasn’t for that adorable girl of yours, you may not have made it.”
Duplex flipped around and stared up at Mhend in revelation. “Truly?” It asked. It seemed to then sink back into contemplation once again, only to be roused from the thought. “But wait,” It said, seemingly splitting from its own form into a silver, inky duplicate that stepped smoothly from her as if exiting a vehicle. It stepped out and moved further into the room, touching one of the walls.
“This place is a prana construct,” It said.
Echelon and Mhend were startled, trying to piece together what they’d witnessed Duplex so casually perform. Where there had been one, there were then two. The original Duplex split two more times to wander throughout the room, studying the walls and even the Greys who curiously watched on in silence. Duplex stood between the two Elites as its copies touched everything they could.
“We thought only Epheral could construct things from prana,” It explained, “We once thought this power could provide for us, for all of us.”
Another Duplex spoke amidst a crowd of gathered Greys. “But Epheral can build these things outside of Canvas.”
“She can also destroy them,” Another said from behind them, examining a throne that no one ever sat on.
“She could destroy this one,” Yet another said as it peered out one of the windows.
“Easily,” They all said at once.
This alarmed the Greys that had been casually strolling about the room. They became uneasy and began to mutter confused inquiries and doom-say as they had often been all too ready to do. Echelon and Mhend, too, were perturbed but they did their best not to show it. They turned to the original Duplex who still stood between them. “We know that Epheral wants to return to Canvas,” Echelon said.
“Epheral wants nothing to do with Canvas,” Duplex said, “She wants nothing to do with any of us. She wants to erase every part of Osoth from existence, right down to her subjects.”
“She’ll erase all the castles built in her wake,” Another said from afar.
“Including this one,” Another said.
“Especially this one,” Said the one among the Greys, “Especially you.”
Mhend flinched. “Especially us?!” She repeated.
“No,” Duplex shook its head between them.
“You,” They all pointed at Echelon.
Echelon looked at all the firmly pointed fingers and all the blank expressions of Duplex and its copies. Her mouth curled into a grit of her teeth. “Me?” She asked, “Why me?”
The other Duplexes made their way back toward the original, and one by one they all stepped back inside of it, disappearing until only one remained. “Osoth is defeated,” It explained, “And another has taken her place. Such is a rebellion.”
Echelon didn’t look pleased with the connection. One of the Greys stepped forward from the now scared mass and said, “We told you!”
“I’m no ruler,” Echelon was quick to deny, “I’m simply trying to give us a civilization. I’m trying to give us our lives back.”
Everyone in attendance stared at Echelon. Not a word was spoken but they all knew that her intentions didn’t matter. A leader and ruler were to be two separate things, but most creatures didn’t differentiate between the two. Echelon may have wanted them to stand on their own two feet, but all her would-be usurpers saw was that they followed her. Yet again, she was to be faced with those who sought to take away what she’d worked so hard to achieve… but it sounded less like a bid for power with Epheral. Epheral wanted to destroy all that once was Osoth… right down to the lowliest Grey.
Echelon took time to place that thought at the forefront of her mind. It was time to protect her flock. “What do we do if she finds us?” She asked.
“It is not a matter of if, but when,” Duplex said, “Epheral will arrive on Earth, she picked up Osoth’s scent there long ago. When she does arrive, she will want to destroy it, but when she finds other Inklings there she may try to find a way to Canvas so she could change it.”
“Change it how?” Echelon asked.
“Like you have,” Duplex blinked, “But on a much larger scale, until nothing remains and Canvas becomes something else.”
They Greys huddled together, afraid.
“That won’t happen.” Echelon shook her head.
“You are going to fight her?” Duplex tilted its head.
“Of course,” Echelon turned to the huddling Greys, by all accounts her citizens in Castle Blackwolf, “I would fight to keep all of you safe! Is it not what I have been doing this whole time? Not only would this Epheral plan to harm us, but she seeks to do harm to Earth as well. I cannot allow either to happen.”
“If she takes out Earth, then we wouldn’t have all this prana!” A Grey came to the realization.
“That would be terrible!” Another said.
“Please, you have to!” Another begged.
“We will,” Echelon turned back to Duplex and Mhend, “What do we do?”
Duplex and Mhend looked at one another uncertainly.
“Well,” Mhend wrung her hands together nervously and bunched up her shoulders, “Here we go again…?”
-
--
-
Kenny and Laila turned their heads to look at one another, which was awkward at their stark differences in height. Standing together as they were, Kenny barely came up to the leggy giraffe’s lower chest. They were uncertain; not because of the whole Inkling thing going on, that was a constant worry, but more of just what they were doing in the mall. They’d stopped into one of the many PET outlets to pick out new little handhelds to use at the behest of the surly white cat who played back-up to hosting them. A Personal Electronic Taskmaster wasn’t a cheap item, and that she was buying them two with no limitations on the make or model was really something else. How much money did this girl have?
They turned their attention back to the shelf lined with floor models of the little plastic boxes. Somehow, even though they too immaculate care of the ones they had before, the ones in the store looked leagues better. Kenny plucked one off the shelf and held it in his hands. It was light-weight, sleek, and shiny. Supposedly it came with a pretty high-end holo-projector, whereas Kenny’s old PET admittedly had some fuzz in that department.
“So uh, what do ya think they’re doin’ in that Canvas place?” Laila asked out loud.
Carrie, having no real need for a new PET and no great desire to browse for one just lingered around the pair in earshot, so she was able to answer. “Well, they’ll probably get in touch with Duplex and then keep talking about how we can’t do anything,” She said.
“Hopefully they’re taking that thing out of Quincey so we can go home,” Kenny remarked.
Laila closed her eyes and sighed, relaxing herself as best she could from all the pent-up stress she’d been feeling. Kenny was just making it worse, always complaining like he always did. “Sweetie, y’know she ain’t gonna get rid of it,” She looked down at the small lemming, “Ya know she ain’t.”
“And why would you want to go home?” Erwin asked, stepping past them without looking up from his PET. He had his nose buried in the screen, his glasses reflecting the bright light of the display. “Harbington’s currently occupied by a group of anti-Inkling terrorists,” He was quick to remind, “I wouldn’t be so quick to go somewhere under Martial Law.”
Kenny huffed, “And what does that have to do with me? I’m not an Inkling.”
“Oh, sure,” Carrie cut in, “And I suppose you wouldn’t want to give food to the starving because you’re not hungry.”
Kenny turned to the feline in a flash, momentarily distracted by the jut of her bosom as she was standing much closer than he anticipated. “That’s not the same thing and you know it!” He argued, “I’m not the bad guy here. If it wasn’t for those alien freaks, we wouldn’t even be out here!”
Carrie, already short with Kenny, resisted every impulse she had to grab him and shake him. “Well what’s stopping you from leaving then?” She asked, “You can go home whenever you want, nobody’s gonna stop you. It’d be quieter around here without you.”
Kenny was furious. “You think you can just say whatever you want because you’ve got super powers or something, don’t you?!” He squeaked.
Laila stepped between the two of them, picking Kenny up by the back of his collar and moving him back about a foot before setting him back down on his feet. “Alright little’un, that’s enough. Ya’ll’re embarrassin’ us,” She said as sternly as she could, “Let’s just be thankful that this pretty lil’ thing is buyin’ us new PETs.”
“See? She’s got some sense,” Carrie gestured to Laila, “She knows that bitching isn’t going to make anything happen any quicker.”
“Grr!” Kenny, overly frustrated, clenched his teeth and his fists, “You know what? I don’t want your stupid charity!”
The smaller boy stormed around Carrie and toward the door. He stomped right past Max, seething with boiled-over anger. The glass door at the entrance slid open silently and let him pass before closing behind him. He passed Jacent, who was waiting outside patiently, and sharply turned away and hurried off in a random direction not really caring where he was going. Everyone present just watched him go, some less comfortable about it than others. Max and Erwin felt awkward, Carrie just felt confused.
“What a dick,” Carrie said, canting her head to look up at Laila, “I’m sorry, but you hang out with that guy?”
“Stubborn lil’ mule…” Laila muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut, collecting herself before she popped a gasket too, “Look, you couldn’t drag a pin outta Kenny’s butt with a hauler. He’s strung up tighter n’ a fiddle at the best of times, and all this alien nonsense ain’t makin’ it any better. Plus, ya gotta understand that he was locked up in a barn for a whole night. I get why he’s so upset, but you ain’t wrong; there’s jack we can do about it right now.”
“Dude’s got problems,” Carrie shrugged.
“Yeah, well, he ain’t always that bad,” Laila’s tone shifted. She was starting to feel strained having to side against a packmate, no matter his behavior.
“Should I go get him?” Max asked innocently.
Laila shook her head, “Unless ya’ll want to get your teeth knocked in I suggest just lettin’ him have some distance. He’ll find his way back when he’s good n’ ready.”
The reptilian boy swallowed and nodded.
“Well,” Erwin turned his PET off and pocketed the device, “I guess now’s a bad time to mention that I couldn’t find anything on this ‘Eos’ group. They don’t show up in any public records at all.”
“What about unpublic ones?” Carrie asked.
Erwin gave her a look, as if she’d just asked what colour the sky was. “Carrie, please, I’m not a master hacker or anything,” He said, “I could only do as much research as I would on any old history project.”
“Ugh,” Carrie turned to Laila and dropped her head, her forehead squishing up against the giraffe’s sweater-clad breasts. She placed her hands on the taller girl’s arms and then lifted her head almost apologetically. “Man, we are getting nowhere with this stuff. You’re not really seeing us at our best,” She explained.
Laila smiled as sympathetically as possible and pat Carrie on the head. “Hey, ya’ll’re tryin’ and that’s more than most people could say!” She said.
Carrie grinned. “Man why couldn’t that little guy be as easy to get along with as you?” She asked, “He’d be half cute.”
Laila blushed just a little and turned away from Carrie to pick up the last PET she’d been looking at, and a few others like it. They were the standard black model, no real customization or casing or anything like that on them. They weren’t even one of the newer, fancier models – they were in fact only a couple generations behind. They would have to do as replacements though, and Laila was getting anxious to at least be able to lose herself in some programs or surfing the net.
She didn’t even get a chance to turn around completely with them before Carrie was pushing her to put them back. The cat instead picked up some slightly newer PETs with a grin. “Here, I’ll pick these up for you,” She said, “Since you’re so sweet.”
Laila took a deep breath and let it all out slowly. “Ya’ll’re just butterin’ me up now,” She said, “You keep bein’ so sweet and ya’ll’re gonna find yourselves on the good end of an OC.”
Carrie’s eyebrows raised. “Really?” She asked, “In that case I may have to pick you up a pair of earphones.”
A thrill in her tight shorts made Laila squeeze her thighs together. “Ya’ll are playin’ a dangerous game, kitten,” She smiled, pulling on one of Carrie’s spiraled blue curls, releasing it to let it spring back into shape.
Carrie just grinned, giving Laila a small shove so she could get by, stepping towards the counter so she could splurge on the devices she had gathered up in her arms. “Pff,” She chortled, “You don’t scare me.”
She looked back and winked, then turned her attention aside to a display on the counter to pluck a little plastic box off it containing a white pair of generic earphones. She dropped them onto the counter with deliberate purpose. Laila laughed out loud, as Erwin’s eyes just flicked back and forth between the two girls. The ferret just tried not to look conspicuous as he observed the back-and-forth between feline and giraffe, but his coy glances were caught by Laila. He got all flustered all of a sudden when Laila approached him, just to squat down at his side. She put her elbow to rest on his shoulder, weighing him down rather considerably.
“I haven’t gotten my rocks off in daaaaays,” She mused, “Your pretty kitty there doesn’t know what she’s in for.”
Erwin sputtered some kind of nervous laugh, his face going awful red. “H-Haha! Uh…? This is kind of weird…” He said.
Laila’s eyes fixated momentarily on Erwin’s crotch. The boy was massively chubbed, so much so that it was all too obvious how his oversized boyhood was all curled up under his sticker and under his jeans. She quickly looked him in the eye again, and he practically shook with excitement.
“Gimmie your number, cutie,” She cooed, “You’re gonna be her backup.”
“I-In case she doesn’t…?” Erwin squeaked.
Laila shook her head. “Oh no, ya’ll’re gonna have to double-team me, just to be fair,” She teased.
“Hnnh…!” Erwin bit his lip and his knees knocked. Laila chuckled and stood, cocking her hip aside to nudge the little redheaded boy and make him stumble. She turned her attention to the store’s front window where Max stood just looking at passers-by out the window, probably debating getting up there and posing with the mannequins. Maybe she should have asked him to come along too, then they could have just ducked into one of the bathrooms and…
… Well, it was likely a better idea to get back to Kelvalde’s place as soon as they could, especially if Kenny decided to wander back that way. A little intimacy would have done Laila a world of good, but it was pretty much up to her to deliver the new PETs then. Carrie returned pretty much on cue and handed a dainty little shopping bag to Laila. “Come on,” The cat said, “We should probably get back. I don’t know how long they’re going to be.”
“R-Right behind you!” Erwin declared.
The three walked out with Erwin following behind, eyes glued to their rears as he went. Max was the last to leave, his gaze lingering out the window for a little while longer. “Huh,” He outwardly mused, thoughts racing through his mind. He snapped to attention once he realized that everyone was leaving however and he scrambled out the door to catch up to him. “Don’t forget me!” He called out, hurrying only to have Jacent stride alongside him casually as he ran.
“What was that all about?” Jacent asked.
“Beats me!” Max shrugged like a goof, “There is much anger in the small one!”
“I’ll say,” Jacent pondered, admittedly a little worried about Kenny and his attitude. It wasn’t the sort of personality that had drawn the best out of Locksmouth as of late – in fact it had brought out the absolute worst, coupled with inky black masses and blood red storm clouds.
“Curiouser and curiouser!” Max laughed.
“Perhaps I should keep an eye on him,” Jacent suggested, “I can keep up with him rather easily.”
“If that’s what you want, dude!” Max said, “People aren’t that ticked off unless they’ve got a tragic backstory though!”
Jacent wanted to argue that things like that didn’t happen in real life, but then he was a living comic book character as far as they were concerned. He was not the authority on disbelief.
“I’ll catch up with you!” The young man called back, turning to hurry off after Kenny. Max waved him along and caught up to the rest.
“Oh, hey lil’ fella, I got a question for you…” Laila spoke.
Kenny was a small boy, with small legs. He couldn’t have gotten that far, but then he seemed to be awful quick. Jacent moved with as much urgency as he could without looking like he was in a full-blown panic. When he looked nervous, other people tended to get nervous, so he kept calm and kept his eyes peeled for the little lemming boy.
Jacent could remember similar situations back in his time. Shopping malls like Locksmouth’s were normally packed to the gills with shoppers, becoming a veritable quagmire of bodies that was difficult to get through. He’d gone looking for lost children once or twice, just by happenstance that he was anywhere near one of the many malls of New York. It had been an utter nightmare back then – one could have felt rather claustrophobic in those situations, bumping shoulders with people of all ages. In the present of 2541 however, the Locksmouth mall was rather sparse. It was built to house hundreds of people, but it would have been lucky to get over a couple hundred on a weekday.
Jacent was free to walk around as he pleased, and because of that he found his query sitting at a bench near one of the exits, nestled quietly in the flora décor of the mall. Kenny quietly sat and stared straight ahead at a fountain display, one that swirled the water through the air using inti-gravity in calming patterns and shapes, with some dim lights to cast a sort of aurora look. He looked far from unassuming… if anything his brooding aura permeated the air around him, and kept whoever passed by at a distance.
As Jacent approached, the boy reached into his pocket and withdrew a slim piece of fabric that unfolded. It matched his black and red jacket, and attached to the collar seamlessly to make a hood that Kenny pulled up over his head like a cowl. His little ears made tiny bumps in the fabric, and it draped around his head far enough to block out the peripheral. It was a common way for troubled kids to block out the world around them, Jacent had seen it many times. While the pre-splicer wasn’t trying to be quiet, Kenny didn’t notice him until he was only a few feet away and his shoe scuffed the floor. Kenny’s ear twitched before the boy looked over.
“Oh. What?” Kenny asked pointedly.
“You left in quite a hurry,” Jacent said, “I came to see if you were alright.”
Kenny’s face went through a couple of emotions rather quickly, but settled naturally on agitation. “Listen, jerk,” He started, “Look, you guys might be right about everything just being out of my hands, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it, alright?”
Jacent considered for a moment what to say. “That’s reasonable,” He said, “You’re in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar people.”
“Cram it,” Kenny huffed, “I didn’t ask for a psychoanalysis. You want a confession? I’m worried. I just want to get my pack and get them the hell out of here. I want to drop that Inkling like a bad habit and just forget this whole thing ever happened.”
Jacent stepped as close as he dared, but Kenny was glaring at his feet, watching where he went. “So this is about your friends,” He said, “… Believe me when I say that I understand your desire to protect them.”
“And I thought I told you I didn’t want you analyzing me! Are all you pre-splicers this stupid?” Kenny looked Jacent in the eye, his arms crossed in a clear ‘I’m not in the mood to talk’ sort of way. “I’m not going to level with you, I don’t even want to talk to you people,” He said, “As far as I’m concerned, you guys are the Inklings, and it’s their fault that everything’s happening.”
Jacent wasn’t one to get flustered in the face of an angry child. He’d faced them before – sometimes kids who got lost were so embarrassed about getting lost that they didn’t want help finding their way back home. Kenny was projecting strongly just to keep him away. As mean as it seemed, Jacent was inclined to agree with him. He was a scary stranger to Kenny, and so were his Inked friends. He wasn’t about to fault the boy for not trusting them right away… and even he had to admit, they were being generously charitable by even Jacent’s standards; naturally the boy would be suspicious.
“Well then, I’ll only ask you one thing,” Jacent said, “Do you plan on returning to Kelvalde’s apartment? If not, I’ll inform your pack.”
Kenny’s eyes wandered in search of his thoughts. The dilemma was clear: Kenny couldn’t just stay outside, he had to return eventually even if he didn’t want to. He sat back and licked his lips, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah,” He sighed, “I’ll come back. But you better tell that cat to fuck off. I don’t care if she’s got some kind of super power, I’ll deck her in the schnoz.”
Jacent tried not to smirk, but his mouth may have twitched. “Understood,” Jacent nodded, “I’ll tell her to keep her distance. You know the way back then?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Kenny sulked back onto the bench.
Jacent bowed his head and turned to leave, but was stopped when Kenny called out for him with a simple, “Hey.” Jacent stopped and looked back at the kid curiously.
“I have a hard time making friends,” He said, “And before you say ‘no duh,’ I mean I’ve been to therapy and stuff, okay?”
The boy seemed to deflate a bit, his anger melting away into some exhaustion and something else – anxiety? He seemed a little shaken. Jacent knew that was as close to an apology that he was going to get from Kenny, and by looking at him it must have taken some guts to even mention such a thing. Pondering it over, Jacent realized that Kenny was giving him something; something to tell the others as some kind of explanation for his behavior. It was a little confusing – telling, definitely, but glossing over a number of things. Jacent could only nod, and Kenny nodded back even though it seemed like he wasn’t even looking at him.
“Oh, uh…” Kenny flustered, “Get Quinn a cinnamon bun too. I promised we would.”
Jacent couldn’t hold back a little chuckle – something that Kenny did not appreciate. “I’ll do that,” He said, turning once more to leave. Kenny said nothing more as Jacent made his way back toward the other end of the mall.
For a while it was quiet, save for the distant murmurs of some conversation. A couple of women were just enjoying a shopping trip. Kenny sighed, rubbing his chest. The way he felt was beyond idle fear or worry… it was beyond scared, somewhere in the murky depths past terror. He took several deep breaths just to calm his heart as the paranoia nibbled at his thoughts. All he could think about were horrifying scenarios, scenes where his friends were harmed at the hands of those Inklings. They kept saying that they were fine and nothing was going to happen… and Kenny really wished he could believe them.
Suddenly he felt something hit his lap, and he huffed out a gasping breath as he tried to squeak in surprise, but the air was pushed out of his lungs. It felt like someone had just jumped into his lap, and indeed he could feel a body there, but he didn’t see one. This put him into a panic immediately, and he attempted to shove off the bench and get to running when a second pair of slender little hands latched onto his shoulders and pinned him back to the seat. He could see those ones though, with rusty orange fur sheathed in long red striped white sleeves.
“Look what trolled out of the bunghole,” An absolutely infuriating attempt at a pirate made by a teenage girl spoke from above, and Kenny jerked his head back to look up and see some purple bandana-wearing, blonde-haired, grungy-looking vixen girl.
“What’s got into you, huh?” The voice of a young boy spoke, and the visage of a greasy little raccoon boy in a hat not dissimilar to Daxton’s appeared. He… smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a while, and Kenny wrinkled his nose as he bared his teeth.
“Who the fuck are you are you chuckleheads?” He asked.
A third body sat in the seat next to him – a rather broad-shouldered badger boy, with tired eyes in black sacks and violet hair on his head. He just felt mean, just by the way he looked and the way he acted. He leaned forward to prop his elbows up on his legs, folding his hands together in front of his face. “I could ask you the same question,” He said, “A new friend of Grayswift’s?”
“I’m not her friend,” Kenny groused.
“No?” The badger asked.
“And I’m not your friend either!” Kenny shoved the raccoon off his lap and roughly onto the floor, springing from his seat in a hurry only to be grabbed by the scruff of his shirt quickly by the badger. Kenny found himself shoved so powerfully he couldn’t keep his balance, and he landed on the arm of the bench, bent uncomfortably backwards over it, with the badger boy looming over him menacingly. His grip was tight, and Kenny couldn’t get the footing to move as his shoes slid over the wood of the bench.
“Tsk…” The badger boy shook his head, “We just want to talk.”
“Yeah, clearly,” Kenny panted, struggling harder, “Let me go or I’m gonna shove those skinny jeans down your throat!”
“Ick,” The vixen made a disgusted sound, “We’ve heard Oakenfield say that one before!”
“Your attempts to intimidate me are laughable,” The badger boy didn’t even smirk as he said that, which made Kenny wonder if he even could laugh, “You’re going to tell me about this Duplex character, and Epheral while you’re at it.”
“Yeah? Says who?” Kenny grunted.
The boy’s other hand clamped over Kenny’s muzzle, shoving his palm over his mouth to keep him quiet. His fingers inked over then, just like Natalie, just like Quincey, except this guy’s ink was a molten orange. Kenny didn’t much care what colour it was, but the whites of his eyes got big and his pupils got small. The inked boy carefully pulled Kenny up by his coat and the lemming fearfully followed the boy’s lead. The ink disappeared as quickly as it came about, and Kenny was stood up and “gently” lead along by the bigger young man. The badger’s cronies followed along, closing in to hide the apparent abduction in broad daylight from prying eyes. Though strangely, most people didn’t even want to look at them.
Everyone except one man, an older feline with gray tinging his otherwise calico fur, wearing a tweed jacket and some proper slacks. He watched safely from his spot leaned up against one of the many decorative pillars choked in ivy set up around the shopping center. They walked Kenny out the entrance as nonchalant as they could, and the old cat lifted his PET from his side and looked down at the screen.
He canted his head, raising his eyebrows high in disbelief before he said, “I believe I just saw Emnas.”
-
--
-
Daxton tapped his feet on the floor and rubbed his arm, uncomfortable in the length of time that Quincey had been gone. With the others out shopping, he was stuck there very much on his own. It was the first time in a while he’d been treated to dead silence save for the occasional sound throughout the cozy, rather spacious apartment. Daxton’s ear twitched to each one, listening intently in case one of those noises happened to be someone coming in. Unfortunately it was just the creak of an appliance or some other dull droning, so it was nothing to really worry about. Daxton got complacent, laying back on that big canopy bed and staring up at the ceiling.
It sure was boring with no PET to distract him. He thought about school for a little while and what might have been going on there. It had long occurred to him that he was falling behind on homework every day he was gone. Life must have been going on without him just fine in Harbington, save for the presence of Eos and the alien attack. Daxton wondered if there were other alien attacks after the first. He remembered all the aliens that Eos had captured in their camps and figured they had to be going somewhere… but where?
They wouldn’t bring that song and dance to Locksmouth, would they? With Echelon and the others around, that didn’t seem like a good idea. Odds were they’d carry on to the other nearby domes like Snowden and Anchorsway. If they could get the same thing to happen in those places, then Locksmouth would be pretty outnumbered in regards to their feelings about the Inklings. But then how big was Eos? There couldn’t have been more than forty of them at Harbington and maybe a good twenty at that camp… While that was a big number of bodies, the human race just didn’t have the capacity to mount some kind of large-scale take-over.
At least, that’s what Daxton remembered. How much was Earth’s head-count? Somewhere in the millions, which considering the size of the planet wasn’t very much at all.
Sudden activity from the mirror broke Daxton away from his thoughts and he sat up to see Quincey stumble out covered in Duplex’s ink. It was only for a moment that she was inked before it all receded rather quickly. She saw Daxton and she hurried over to him to thrust herself onto him and give him a big hug, and Daxton wasn’t so surprised as to not hug her back. Natalie and Samantha emerged shortly after, their Inklings peeling away and disappearing under their skin as well.
“So Duplex is back,” Daxton pointed out.
“It is!” Quincey seemed genuinely delighted by this, “It’s fine… ish. It can’t really ink me over that much out in the real world, but it does alright in Canvas. For now it’s just going to stay inside me.”
Daxton seemed confused, “Stay inside you? You’re not going to take it out?”
“Echelon could do that, but…” Natalie began.
“Quincey insists that it stays,” Samantha finished.
Daxton looked at Quincey who looked a little ashamed of herself, eyebrows turned and teeth grit as she prepared for a barrage of questions and angry revelations regarding her decision. Daxton didn’t seem impressed, but with a sigh he said, “I guess I figured that.”
Quincey sat up astraddle Daxton’s lap to explain herself, “Duplex does better but it’s still sick. It’s bonded with me better than anyone, so it needs me.”
“Yeah, but… Well, no, I can’t really tell you not to help someone…” Daxton looked down at Quincey’s thigh and gave it a squeeze in his hand, “Just, you know… we need you too, so… we worry, you know? We can’t stay here forever either, eventually we have to go home.”
“We will,” Quincey said, sounding so sure, “Just, we have to wait for Eos to leave before we can do that. If I went back, I don’t think we’d be safe, or maybe Natalie and her friends would be in trouble.”
Daxton looked around Quincey at Natalie and Samantha. “I guess we wouldn’t want that,” He said.
“And I’m host to an Inkling now just like them, so… I-I think we should help if we can,” She said, “Let’s just stay until we know what we can do about Eos, okay? A-And besides, Epheral will arrive p-probably around the place where prana has been the most active, so… I could be in danger if she decides to come after me.”
“Really?” Daxton’s tone shifted to worry, “Epheral’s really bad news though, right? To more than just Inklings?”
Quincey nodded solemnly.
“Well, I mean… I guess that’s kind of our problem too then, huh?” Daxton concluded.
Natalie’s PET chirped from the pocket of her red jeans, pricking up ears all around the room and turning heads. She dug the thing out of her butt pocket with some considerable fussing before opening up the call she’d been receiving, “Shelly? What’s up?”
The big, bold, yellow compounded eyes of Shelly Iverson peered back at Natalie from the other side of the screen. Natalie could see much, but based on the shadows covering her it looked like she’d ducked into hiding somewhere outside. “Omigawd, Natalie!” The butterfly flustered, “I just saw Cedric!”
Natalie cocked a brow. “So? Was he doing something completely super terrible?” She asked.
“Nono, this—I mean yeah!” Shelly flapped one of her hands around, waving erratically, “Natalie I think he was totally super kidnapping someone or something! I saw him with this kid I don’t know and I know all the kids around here because, like, they all go to my parties all the time. I wasn’t totally sure that they weren’t just hanging out or whatever but I kept thinking about it and nobody wants to hang out with Cedric! Like, ever! Well except for Coul and Allie but this, like, wasn’t either of them.”
Natalie tried to keep up with Shelly’s mile-a-minute spiel, blinking her eyes. “Who could he be with?” She pondered.
“I told you I dunno!” Shelly said, “You heard me right? I mean, this kid, he looked kind of super cute, y’know? And like, he looked like he takes baths. He was like a little gerbil or something? Natalie do you know any, like, little grey gerbil dudes? Not grey like a Grey but, you know, the colour.”
Quincey blinked, “Was he wearing a black and red outfit?”
“Yeah and it made his butt so hot!” Shelly stressed, “Wait, who’s that? I don’t know that voice!”
“Kenny?” Daxton canted his head.
“No I’m Shelly! Who are you?” Shelly answered.
“Shelly, those are the kids from Harbington we were told about,” Natalie explained, “But I think Cedric’s got their friend. Are you sure he was kidnapping him? Did you see Carrie and the others?”
“Hanging out with Cedric? Doesn’t Carrie hate Cedric?” Shelly gapped.
“No, Shelly, I…” Natalie shook her head and rubbed her forehead, “Look, we’ll come check it out, where did you see them?”
“I think they were heading out to the slums!” Shelly answered, “Y’know, like, where Cedric lives?”
“Shelly darling, just sit tight and we’ll come assist you, alright?” Sam cut in.
“Okie-dokie, I’m not going anywhere near that guy!” Shelly said, “But, like, come quick okay? The cute gerbil kid was so little!”
Shelly hung up before Natalie did, her face blipping out of existence and leaving the four kids alone to act. Quincey and Daxton looked at Natalie, and the corgi boy asked, “Who’s Cedric? Bad news?”
“The worst,” Natalie answered, “We better go see what’s up.”
“I thought Carrie was with them,” Sam pointed out, taking her PET out of the pocket of her capris and dialing in the feline’s number. The call rung through and Carrie picked up, her normally immaculate hair looking a little tussled, and she was panting laboriously. “Carrie, darling, did you happen to run into Cedric while you were out?” Sam asked.
The sound of muffled, honey-tinged moans echoed around wherever Carrie happened to be. Other sounds of pleasured groans and panting huffs belonged to Erwin and Max, and repeated thuds loudly interrupted Carrie’s efforts to answer. Looking closer, the surly feline seemed to be without her top, her bare white shoulders and jiggling swells of her upper bosom visible to the PET’s camera. Her other arm was locked rigid, resting on something below and out of frame.
“Cedric? Nah,” Carrie grinned, “Why the heck would he come anywhere near us?”
Sam’s ears splayed out flat to either side of her head and her one visible eye stared at the feline in blunt disbelief. “Kitten, tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing,” She groused.
Max’s gravelly voice broke out into a high-pitched squeal of a moan – the kind of sound he only made when he’d hit the climax of a good OC session. It was followed and overlapped by a girl’s ecstasy muffled around an obstruction that made Quincey and Daxton’s ears perk. That sound was Laila’s muffled moans; they knew it right away. They strained their pleasured cries, Max sounding like he was wavering, and likely trembling. Things got a little slower, heated gasps for breath filling the speechless gap, then they started up again. Max even whined, “Aie Chihuahua! Nnnnnot agaiiiinnnn!”
Carrie rolled her eyes, “If what you thought I was doing was helping the boys make a giraffe sandwich, then you’d be right.”
“Carrie, is that other boy with you?” Quincey rose from Daxton’s lap and approached Sam to crowd into the shot. She blushed at the calm, collected, cocky look of the pleased feline – a visage accompanied by a background concerto of horny teens.
Carrie frowned a little. “Little Whine stormed off after exploding at the store,” She explained.
Natalie wasn’t embarrassed at what her girlfriend was doing, per-say, but it certainly made her red in the face. It was hard to stay professional when your side-kick was having a four-way out of frame. “Sweetie, Cedric might have gotten his hands on him,” She explained.
Carrie snapped to attention, turning serious. “Really? That bastard,” She turned her attention downward, and with a distinct motion of her hips, she pulled back. A lewd, slobbery sound of suction punctuated her removal from her new friend’s face. “Hey bumpkin, fun’s over, we’ve gotta go find your friend pronto,” She said.
“Gnh! Whoever this Credric feller is? He’s got some piss-poor timin’!” Laila complained, “Oh… oh…! Nnh, h-hold on! C’mon big boy, give it…! Hnnngh! Mmmmmyeah!”
Carrie half-lidded her eyes and looked back at her screen, “We’ll be a couple minutes, just tell me where to go.”
