In Skyships of Conquest, making an avatar was a very simple process. The game had come a long way since its initial creation, heavily turning focus onto the character customization aspect, along with a lean toward social interaction as opposed to anything involving gameplay. Someone could be anyone they liked, but in order to enforce an active, “healthy environment,” avatars were made to look at least somewhat similar to the players who used them. Using three-dimensional scans and real-time picture data, the creation engine could make a character that fit the player to a T. Everything on their build, from the smallest dimple or freckle, could be replicated and put into the game. From there, players could change some things about themselves – the colour or style of their hair, for example, or even certain aspects of their overall frame. Hardly anything was off-limits, and it was a very popular function among the players.
After a short introduction sequence, Quincey found herself in the game. It was like waking up in a dream; with the VR goggles on her face all she could see was the game-world around her. It was surprisingly vibrant for what it was. The game featured a rivalry between free airship pirates and the lawful royal navy. Quincey had joined the latter, and the area she appeared in was surprisingly sophisticated and clean for being entirely made of what she assumed was limestone. The floors and walls were very light, almost white, in the small quarters. The low ceiling had wooden support beams that bridged from one wall to the next. The bunk she sat on actually felt soft and springy despite being virtual. A beam of light shone through a small window, cutting a square onto the floor. There was only one other small bunk across from her on the other side of the room, as well as a metal-bound wooden chest for storage between them.
The sounds were amazingly authentic. She could hear the goings-on of work outside – non-player characters mulling about with a surprisingly variable artificial intelligence, assuring that their work didn’t seem too repetitive. There were a lot of hammers banging on wood, flags flapping in the breeze, and Quincey theorized she was somewhere near the ship docks, likely in some crew quarters similar to what she equated with early Spanish naval bases. The architecture was a little strange, however… it appeared to be more Greek than anything, which seemed wildly inaccurate to her if the game was meant to capture a renaissance-style fantasy world.
She made sure the ear buds were pushed proper into her ears’ canals before going on with the game. “Laila, where are we supposed to meet?” She asked.
“Reckon I’ll come find ya, I know where ya’ll are,” Laila answered, “Ya’ll are in the Frontier Port of Avalon. S’where all the new Navy start.”
“Uh huh…” Quincey looked around, giving the place another cursory glance. It felt like it should have been warm, like a tropical climate. Instead, since it was a game, it didn’t feel too much warmer than normal. The feedback in her threadlinks simulated the rise in temperature but to a comfortable degree.
She looked down at herself and saw her normal thick frame. She hadn’t changed anything about her body, wanting to be recognizable to the group she intended to meet with. She sat on her bunk in little more than underwear, and that wasn’t very flattering. An arrow, projected above the storage chest in the room, rose up and down with subtle urgency, imploring her to explore the contents within. She rose to her feet and approached the chest to open it up, where she had been granted a number of items:
[Recruit’s Beret] x1 received!
[Recruit’s Long Jacket] x1 received!
[Recruit’s Long Skirt] x1 received!
[Recruit’s Leggings] x1 received!
[Simple Cutlass] x1 received!
[Simple Flintlock] x1 received!
Quincey equipped the items one at a time. They appeared on her avatar very suddenly, without any sense of ceremony. She adjusted the little beret on her head, and the frilled ribbon tied at her collar. She’d heard that Skyships of Conquest had turned into a game where most people when to role-play… erotically. She expected everything to have that shameless slant to it, but instead the outfit she wore was modest and cute. The long-sleeved uniform jacket buttoned up at its center, over her chest and belly with diamond-shaped clips. Ruffled cuffs sheathed black gloves, and white accents played the seams. Her matching skirt was open at the front and flowed nearly down to what shouldn’t have been regulation high heels. Black hose sheathed her chubby legs, barely see-through if at all. A belt held her cutlass and her flintlock at either of her hips.
She took a mirror out of the box and used it. It allowed her to see herself at all angles, as if panned out to a third-person view. Naturally the uniform was a little… tight, in some places. Her butt shelfed the skirt and lifted it just slightly at the back, and the shape of her chest was unnaturally apparent under the cling of the jacket. With her little red bob cut, freckled face, and glasses, she looked every bit the hard-working, if studious naval officer. She liked the look. Maybe she could get it stitched together at Future Fashions and have it for herself. It would make a fine addition to her collection of costumes.
The girl giggled as she twirled, admiring herself. When she noticed movement in the other bunk, she returned attentively to the game. Daxton sat up from the covers on the bunk, rubbing his shaggy blonde hair as he looked around, just like she had. His hair still was long enough to fall in front of his eyes, but that didn’t seem to stop him from actually being able to see. He could have actually given himself eyes, but for some reason he’d chosen not to. He smiled when he saw her, chuckling at her outfit.
“That’s cute.” He said, throwing his legs off the bed to put his feet on the floor. He opened the chest and rooted through it faster than Quincey had. He was more experienced with video games in general than she.
Items popped onto his avatar in succession – fine blue uniform pants, a button-down white shirt, a pair of studded-knuckle fighting gloves, uniform boots, and subtle cloth that acted as a blinder over his eyes. His shirt was cut too short, exposing his “royal navel.” The buttons didn’t do up all the way, showing off his strong collar. The sleeves were rolled up around his fit biceps. The waist was pinched around the middle, emphasizing curvature. His pants were too low, showing off the slightest curves of butt crack and a dangerous dip in the front between his thighs. The fabric was tight there as well; his package was all bundled up on prominent display.
Maybe Quincey could get that made up too. She would have liked that very much.
“Y’know I would’ve preferred to make a Pirate.” The boy commented, rubbing his head as he studied himself.
“Well ya’ll’re Navy now, no Pirate scum allowed.” Laila said with authority.
“Where’s Kenny?” Quincey asked.
“Dunno.” Daxton shrugged. He seemed less than eager to find the boy though when he put his arm around Quincey and pulled her in for a kiss. Quincey made a surprised little noise, but she was hard-pressed to resist. He touched her as they smooched, his fingertips brushing over her chest. The feedback in her stickers made her tingle pleasantly.
The door to the little room opened and Kenny stood there. His boots looked strangely complex and elaborate with how the leather folded on itself. His slender legs were bare all the way up to a pair of navy bloomers, barely covered by his loose, untucked shirt. The black cloth shirt was layered by a small, open naval jacket that shared the same blue and white as Quincey’s, though its entire length only reached his waist. He had a tool belt around his waist, with a small knife and a flintlock among the engineer’s tools. Upon his head, only somewhat shading his annoyed brow, was a more traditional black-beaked officer’s hat.
The boy skulked in and smacked both Quincey and Daxton on their butts about as hard as he could. The feedback in their stickers made them jump. “Here I am!” Kenny groused, “Stop necking and let’s go.”
Daxton grinned at the boy, huffing laughter through his nostrils in an attempt to mute it.
“What?” Kenny glared at him.
“You made yourself taller?” Daxton smirked.
The lemming flustered. “No, I did not make myself taller.”
“I think you did,” Daxton let Quincey go and instead tried to pull Kenny closer to measure, “Come here.”
“Get off’a me you jerk-ass.” Kenny yanked his hand away from Daxton, “Let’s just go already.”
The boy stormed out. Daxton looked to Quincey and shrugged. “He totally did.” The corgi insisted.
“Yes, he did.” Quincey nodded in agreement.
They stepped out into a corridor, following Kenny as he made his way through what appeared to be a fortress of some kind. The halls weren’t decorated with much, but somehow with their sparse trappings they managed to hold a prim and proper air that fit a group who considered themselves to be the epitome of law and order. The torches flickering in their sconces were evenly spaced, blue banners on the walls proudly displayed the gallant, yellow Winged Crown; the symbol of the navy. They exited through an open door of metal bars, stepping out into the shining sun that hung high above the clouds. Quincey shielded her eyes from the sun’s rays, her vision washed with bright light for a moment that made the bright stone walkways of the port blaze. When her vision recovered, she saw a vibrant island floating in the sky, made of stone walkways and lush green grass, with tall trees sprouting from the hunk of floating earth.
Other players walked about, many of them bright-eyed and curious, and young. They had never played the game before, mostly due to never having heard of it. They all wore similar blue uniforms, with the younger, obviously newer players wearing white stitching inlayed in their fabric. Other more experienced players were recognizable by their gear. Some of them had admiral stars, and others had golden linings that set them apart as something of a higher stature. One clear feature was that many of the players wore revealing uniforms. Quincey’s was by far the most modest, while some others wore little more than strips of fabric that could scarcely pass for clothing.
The NPC characters dressed decidedly more appropriate, but bland. They were made to blend with the scenery, almost muted if it weren’t for the fact they were moving and acting. They hauled goods along the docks that housed a number of ironclad ships, each varying in size and impressiveness. Shopkeepers stood under tarps, selling their goods as outdoor vendors. Trade goods, foods, vegetables, luxury goods, weapons, armor; everything could be found somewhere. Near the fortress a forge blazed, a burly bear working there to hammer metal into imposing shapes. The place was set up like a small metropolis – narrow streets more resembled alleyways, creating a web of directions where one might easily get lost.
Gulls passed overhead as the trio surveyed the port. “Busy place.” Daxton commented, noting that the number of passers-by was quite large. Some were recognizable as people who went to their school – teenage sailors, fresh to the world of SoC. There was so much going on that it was no wonder Quincey went unnoticed as long as she did, but soon she was seen. A rather diminutive koala girl peered past her long red bangs and her visible eye widened. She pointed at Quincey, and soon she was approaching with two other young men.
“Wow, you actually came!” The koala girl said. She was quite expressive when she spoke, moving her hands almost constantly when she did. She looked decidedly cute in her small uniform and little folded side cap. Her hair was long at the front and short in the back. It swept down in a crescent on the left side of her face, blue eyes peering past.
“I didn’t think you’d actually show up. Didn’t you see all the haters?” One of the girl’s companions, a yak, said. His horns jut out to either side of his head, almost making a platform for his too-big officer’s hat to sit on.
Kenny crossed his arms. “What’re they gonna do here?” He asked, “They can’t hurt us unless we let them.”
“Well that’s kind of cool.” A parakeet boy put his chin on the yak boy’s shoulder, peering at Quincey. He wore nothing but his underwear. He hadn’t equipped a single thing, just letting his green plumage shine. “What about all those terrorist guys from before? Aren’t you scared of them?”
Quincey fidgeted, feeling nervous. She really was afraid of Eos. Daxton stepped up however and simply shrugged his shoulders. “What’s to be afraid of? We already kicked their butts once before.”
The group of teens shared curious glances at one another. “You did? Didn’t the other Inklings do that?” The koala asked.
“Ah, we helped.” Daxton waved a hand with a chuckle. “Seriously, I took one of the Inklings out myself.”
“Daxton, we know you’re a badass and everything, but you’re so full of crap.” The yak laughed.
Daxton would have blinked if he could. “I did!” He insisted.
“Well, whatever.” The koala girl brushed the corgi off and turned her attention to Quincey. “We really want to hear about the Inklings! Don’t they make you pretty much a super hero?”
Quincey stared at the girl and swallowed. “Um,” She started, “Well, they give you certain abilities… I mean, they don’t all give you abilities! Mine does, though…”
“Yeah the ability to clone yourself, right?” The parakeet said, bouncing a little excitedly, rubbing all up on the yak. “That would be awesome! I wish I had an Inkling.”
“Yeah I don’t know about that, buddy.” Kenny crossed his arms.
“I thought we said the questions would be comin’ when we hit Coconut Landin’. What’s all this ruckus?”
All turned to see Laila striding toward them on long, strong legs. The heels of her calf-high blue boots click-clacked on the cobblestone pathing, her cutlass and sidearm bouncing in their holsters attached to belts strapped around her thighs. What could only be described as an intricately cut leotard covered her from the highest point of her thigh, the fabric reaching around behind her as if with arms to cup and half-cover her rear. It angled up her front to a point just beneath her bouncing breasts, and a short, twin-tailed Admiral’s coat strained to hold those breasts back with the fasten of but a single button. The golden highlights in her hair shined when they caught the sunlight, much like her eyes did with sinister glee as she regarded the low-level newbies. A blue tri-cone hat with gold trim sat atop her head, her ossicones pushing up through holes in the chapeau.
She crossed her arms just so her breasts would hefted and be pushed together, not that a single one of them were tall enough to enjoy the sight of her barely-contained cleavage. An obnoxious banner sat over her head to display her character level to all the other players proudly. Admiral D’Onse, level 100. The letters were solid gold.
“Sorry ya’ll, I had to sort through sixteen months’ worth of private messages. Been busier than a cat on a hot tin roof ‘round here while I was gone, apparently.” She looked at each of the teens in turn, stopping and cocking a brow at the parakeet. “Ya’ll seriously can’t be bothered to put some clothes on?”
The boy grinned and folded his arms back over his head to jut his hips out. He’d obviously pushed the slider for his junk to the max. “Why?” He asked.
Laila rolled her eyes.
“Anyhoo, ya’ll wanna get to Coconut Landin’? I need a crew to run my ship.” Laila said, looking to each of them in turn, “My old one skedaddled a long while back, once this game became all ‘bout bumpin’ uglies.”
“You sure it wasn’t about that before you quit?” Kenny asked, critically eying up the giraffe’s armor, if he were so generous to call it that.
“I’ll have ya’ll know I was the biggest fish in this here lil’ pond a couple years back!” Laila planted her hands on her hips, “Admiral D’Onse was the rootin’-est, tootin’-est Admiral! Scourge o’the Navy. Bane of Pirates!”
“Uh huh.” The koala nodded along.
“And while I could, ahem, pwn you noobs, and it would be 2 ez, I ain’t much without a crew. So ya’ll are now my crew members!” Laila said.
“What if I don’t wanna be?” Kenny challenged her.
“Gosh darnit Kenny ya’ll are part of my crew now and I’ll lose ya in the cornfields if you gimmie that lip.” Laila snapped at him. “Now c’mon ya powder monkeys.”
Everyone exchanged a look between one another when Laila turned and started to lead the way. Without the time to actually play through the game’s content and get into things naturally, they decided to simply follow the giraffe’s lead. All six of the newbie players went with Admiral D’Onse as she moved around the small fortress they had found themselves in. She entered the main doors – a considerably larger gate of metal barring. They walked through the main bulk of the base, which contained little other than map rooms and libraries of information. Off one wing, however, there was an entrance underground. The group descended a number of steps, moving a good three stories into the floating island’s rock.
Underneath there was a different beast entirely: a whole port stretched out before them, with four docks for ships. Metal catwalks and walkways connected buildings that had been built of stone to hold dry gunpowder and munitions. Rooms had been dug out of the rock where crewmembers could sleep or gather for drinks and games – as well as more lewd get-togethers, which were currently in-progress in several areas. At the lowest point, the underground base opened up into the bottom of the island, showing nothing but clouds down below. It was a long, long drop. Loot and supplies confiscated from Pirate ships were stacked neatly in an area. Laila led the group, hopping onto a pole to slide from the highest walkway right down to the docks where ships were waiting for them.
The parakeet boy was the last to touch down, and the last to stare, gawking at the massive metal leviathan that Laila called a ship. The titanic steel frame of the vessel seemed cramped in the confines of the docking bay, taking up almost every inch of space that was provided to it. It was far longer than the docks dared stretch outward, as big across as a gymnasium at the very least. The entirety of the structure was mostly metal, with reinforcements built clearly into the hull to bulk the thing out, big, gray, and clunky. Blue accents on some of the edges made it barely stand out. Where those failed, guns and cannons made up the difference. There were guns strategically placed all over the ship, mounted on top and jutting out the sides. An insanely enormous one had been mounted on the front, its barrel providing shade to the group below. It looked fit to destroy whole islands, let alone other ships.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to ya’ll the royal flagship of Her Majesty’s Navy, the Halberd!” Laila announced with a flourish.
“Whoa…” The yak boy marveled, and so did Kenny. The engineering of such a vessel made absolutely no sense in any scope of realism – it was too large, it should have been too heavy, and yet even so it was an impressive sight to see.
“This baby’s broken a Pirate invasion single-handedly. Reckon it’ll get ya’ll to Coconut Landin’ without much fuss.” Laila grinned, turning and planting her hands on her hips to admire the ship like it were an old friend. She then took out a remote, from a pocket she clearly did not have on her skimpy uniform, and pushed a button. The ship made a “BAEP-BAEP” sound, and a gangplank automatically pushed out from a latch on the dock side and swung down with a clang to serve as a walkway for them to load up on. The latch’s turn-handle spun and the door opened all on its own to welcome them.
The crew marched into the recesses of the massive ship and navigated the surprisingly spacious corridors toward the bridge, passing by numerous rooms on the way ranging from the cargo bay to a fully stocked tavern serving as a mess hall, and even a swimming pool in one area. They took a lift up to the bridge, which sat like an airline tower command high above the deck of the boat, overlooking it through large pane glass windows. The room stood out from the rest as the inside trappings were wooden and appeared to be more traditional, in a fantasy steampunk sense. Large consoles managed to appear antiquated, yet still had baubles and tools, gauges and sonar devices, all used to see them through the skies in a sophisticated and efficient manner.
Everyone except for Laila rushed the bridge to look around and poke at everything they could, like excited school kids on a field trip. Laila stepped right up to the wheel – a classic, wooden ship’s wheel. She took the rungs in her hand and gave the thing a spin, satisfied by the rapid clicking and clacking it did as it turned the ship’s rudder. She stopped the wheel’s spin and leaned on it when she regarded the others. “Fall in, crew!” She bellowed.
The others did as she commanded, gathering before her. She looked at every one of them in turn. “Awright, let’s see now…”
“Quincey darlin’, ya’ll’re Navigator.” Laila pointed at Quincey, and she was given the title. “Get on over there and man yer station. Find Coconut Landin’ on the map and jimmy us up a course.”
Quincey blinked at the Navigator’s station, which seemed to include a rather large map posted on the wall, as well as rolls and bundles of “sea charts” for the skies, and some equipment at the end of a console to be able to tell latitude and longitude, as well as sky depth and other things. “Okay.” She nodded. She stepped toward her area, but Laila reached out and stopped her.
“That’s ‘yes captain’ to you.” Laila grinned.
Quincey blushed. “Um, yes captain!”
She hurried away. Laila regarded Daxton. “You, good ol’ boy,” She said, “Ya’ll get down below and man the guns. And you… what’s ya’ll’s name?”
She looked at the young yak, who blinked past his long, black, center-parted bangs. “Uh, Elijah.” He answered. “Wait, do you mean for real or in the game? Because in the game I’m Briggs.”
Laila shrugged. “Mr. Briggs, you go down there with ‘im.”
Daxton smirked. “Yes captain.” He said, giving a lazy salute. He and the other boy turned to leave.
“Kenny.” Laila continued.
“Sparhawk.” Kenny cut in, correcting her.
“Sparhawk,” Laila closed her eyes a moment, “Ya’ll’re engineer, o’course. So ya’ll stay and monitor the ship’s condition from here.” Laila pointed to another station. Kenny stepped to it without a word.
“You in the britches, ya’ll’re lookout. Get on up to the crow’s nest.” Laila commanded the parakeet boy, who was still dressed in just his skivvies and his own natural green plumage.
“Aye-aye!” He saluted, scampering off in a hurry.
“And lastly, yer the helmsman.” Laila regarded the short, stocky koala girl. The much taller giraffe stepped aside, allowing the other girl to take the wheel. She needed a box to stand high enough. She climbed on up and took the wheel into her hands, looking comically tiny in comparison.
“Okay then captain.” She said.
Laila stepped over to Quincey, resting her elbows on the girl’s shoulders from behind as if she were a rest. She set her chin down atop Quincey’s head and used it in an affectionate nuzzle. “So, ya’ll ready to go force some learnin’ on a buncha dopes?” She asked.
Quincey couldn’t help but laugh, just a little. “As… ready as I’ll ever be,” She said, “I’m a little nervous.”
“Aw don’t be,” Laila brushed her off, “Yer now part of the most feared crew of two years ago! I reckon that’s still relevant. Ya’ll couldn’t be safer. You find the Landin’ yet?”
“Yes, it’s right there…” Quincey pointed up to the map. Laila’s ship appeared on the map as an icon, brighter than the paper it was on, slightly pulsating with light. It hovered over top of Avalon, tucked far in the Eastern Skies on a fairly sizable continent, right on the tip. The stretch of sky between the east and the west was dotted with smaller landmasses and islands, and large letters sprawled across the map labelled it as the Frontier Lands. Coconut landing was the very first landmass they would hit heading into that area, just a few clicks to the west if Quincey understood her sailor jargon just right. When she pointed to it, an arrow icon appeared over Coconut Landing, and a dotted line showed them the fastest route to it.
Laila walked over to a talking tube and shouted into it. “Lookout Britches, ya’ll keep an eye out for enemy ships and land, y’hear?”
“Okay!” The parakeet’s voice came back.
Laila strode over to her captain’s chair. It was the only chair on the bridge, it looked like a throne, and there were steps leading up to it, sitting her high above everyone else. She sat down and crossed her legs demurely, stroking the velvet arms of the golden seat with her gloved hands. “Right then,” She said, “Take us out Ms. Littlebear.”
The fastenings holding the ship at the dock came loose with an automated clatter, retracting with a mechanical whirr that echoed into the caverns. The engine revved up, whatever anti-gravity technobabble that kept the ship afloat in the air took over, and the ship bobbed before the gyroscopes could kick in and keep it steady. Once cleared for takeoff, the ship jerked into motion, moving like silk despite its size. Energy burned from thrusters on the ship, sending it sailing out into the deep blue sky. The sun shone into the bridge as they cleared the secret exit built right into the rock of the island. They were on their way.
“Gotta admit, this is pretty exciting.” Daxton said straight to Quincey. A private message.
“It is.” Quincey nodded. “I like this game. Maybe even better than Kingdoms of Roaming.”
“Yeah because you don’t have to go outside to play it,” Daxton teased, “But yeah, I think we might have to pick this up sometime. Anyway, you ready?”
“I suppose so.” Quincey shrugged her shoulders.
“That’s the spirit.” Daxton chuckled.
-
--
-
Coconut Landing certainly lived up to its name. Palm trees of all sizes sprouted from lush grass on the little island, and each and every one of them had coconuts on them. Everything was coconuts there. People drank coconut milk, they sold crafts and things made from coconuts, the NPC characters wore coconuts on their chests and dressed in grass skirts. It was a carefree place. Merchants pedaled their wares and whomever wasn’t working was partying among the stick huts. Players who just wanted to relax in a more social environment were known to frequent the place – and like any area in Skyships of Conquest, it saw its fair share of erotic role-play, or eRP. The thick foliage jostled with movement, sexual gymnastics performed by those who wanted a bit of privacy, the sounds of which were masked by the rushing water of a singular fall right smack in the center of the island.
The Halberd would have cast a shadow over the whole place and drawn a lot of attention. Laila dropped anchor a few leagues off and took a small away-vessel to dock. Many ships found a home amidst the very modest bamboo structures that served as boarding.
For the in-game daytime, the tiny village was surprisingly busy. It was often far more popular at night where players gathered for parties lit by tiki torches. When Laila and her crew touched down they saw several newbie players and a small number of veterans milling about, Pirates and Navy both, chatting with one another and just killing time. They were no doubt the ones who had gathered for Quincey’s question and answer time – they numbered thirteen in all.
“Quite the group.” Daxton commented as they approached.
“With us seven, that makes…” Kenny counted the bodies, “Twenty people. How many of them do you think are here because they hate Inklings?”
“Pff, if anyone causes trouble ‘round these parts, they gotta answer to me.” Laila puffed out her chest proudly, “I ain’t no super hero in the real world, but in this game I reckon I’m practically Queen.”
“Hey there she is!” An Emu boy swiveled his head around to see Quincey, and he alerted the group. All at once everyone looked to the pig girl standing among her crew, and Quincey felt butterflies in her stomach.
Everyone came over, of course, and they started asking their questions right away. They were curious minds, thirsting for some knowledge, and it all came from different places. Some of them were scared and wanted to be assured, others were dying to learn about extraterrestrial life, always having hoped that humans weren’t alone in the universe. Others still were so swept away in the apparent super hero aspect of the Inklings that they wanted to know more about Echelon and her group. All the questions came at roughly the same time; Quincey was almost immediately drowned out by voices.
“Hold on! Hold on!” Laila shouted over the group, raising her hands to try and get their attention. It took some doing, but eventually everyone settled. “Jeez, ya’ll gotta ask your questions one at a time, we can’t even understand what you’re sayin’!”
“Do you wanna take over Earth or what?” A young tiger boy spoke up first before anyone else could.
Quincey was a little blindsided by the question. She shook her head in a hurry. “What? No! It was Osoth who wanted to conquer Earth.”
“Who’s Osoth?” A girl asked.
“The old Empress, the, um, former leader of the Inklings.” Quincey answered again, stressing the part where Osoth was no longer in command. “She was defeated by Echlon in Locksmouth in August.”
“Is she dead?” The koala helmsman asked, crowding in on Quincey with the two boys that had followed along with them.
“Osoth? Um, yes, I think so.” Quincey fidgeted, wringing her hands together as she nodded, “Her core was apparently destroyed. A-All Inklings have cores, which are basically their brains. Well, actually, that’s putting it pretty basically but… it’s kind of like that.”
The gathered group of students, high schooler and elementary grades both, seemed to mutter amongst one another and nod in understanding. “So it was Osoth who was the bad guy,” one said. “I didn’t know that! I thought they were all bad guys,” another exclaimed. Quincey watched the group’s reaction and felt relieved that it was being accepted so openly.
“Can Inklings kill people?” A small parrot girl dressed in torn Pirate apparel asked.
“Technically anything can kill people.” Kenny cut in.
That seemed to disconcert the group, so Quincey quickly set to put things in a gentler tone. “D-Do you mean when Duplex said it would kill me?” Quincey asked, “Well, um, to be honest, that was a bluff. Inklings need hosts to survive, so killing me would have been detrimental to its health. It might have been able to, but there’s no good reason for an Inkling to kill a human.”
“Well duh, there’s no good reason to kill anybody!” An older feline girl added.
Kenny plugged his ear as he pretended to scratch an itch and averted his eyes.
“Well, no,” Quincey agreed.
“But I saw what happened in Anchorsway, they were gonna do it!” A boy spoke, a chimpanzee boy with thick glasses.
“Exception,” Daxton spoke, arms crossed, “Not the rule.”
“So is yours good? Like Echelon? She helped save the people in Anchorsway and beat the empress, so she’s a good Inkling, right?” The emu boy asked.
“Yes.” Quincey nodded without hesitation. “Echelon is a good Inkling. She has mankind’s interests at heart, and is trying to protect us and the Inklings as they adjust to not having a leader. Duplex is good too.”
“Quincey wouldn’t let it be bad!” Laila added.
The kids stared at Quincey. “Can she do that?” One asked.
“Me and Duplex… work together.” Quincey twiddled the ribbon at her collar, “It needs me, and the longer it stays with me, the more we agree on things. Duplex and I don’t want to hurt anyone, ever.”
“So are you a super hero?” Someone else asked.
Quincey looked behind her at the parakeet boy in his underwear who had asked the question. She considered it for a moment, turning back to the gathering that had surrounded her. “Um…” She spoke, but hesitated. Logically? She couldn’t find any reason to say yes. “I… have a special power, but Duplex is a weaker Inkling. I can’t do the same things Echelon can.”
That answer didn’t go as well as before. The kids frowned and looked distraught. “You’re telling me that if someone tries to sink Harbington under the water, you wouldn’t be able to do anything?” The chimp boy almost yelled.
Quincey paused. Was that the expectation she was under as an Inked person? She never considered that people were looking at her like she was supposed to be a hero like Echelon. Had Echelon been doing so much, risking so much, and performing as a hero so well… that everyone wanted Inklings to be like that? While Quincey couldn’t blame them – she would want more Inklings to be like Natalie and Echelon as well – she couldn’t even begin to fathom performing the same feats that she saw Echelon do back at the Caduceus Manor, when she took down Vor. She was an entirely different person, and that meant that Duplex was an entirely different Inkling.
“It would be… harder.” Quincey decided.
“Well, we could just sit there and rely on Quincey to do everything just because she has an Inkling with her,” Daxton cut in, stepping between Quincey and the group that had gathered around her, “But where’s the fairness in that? If something comes to Harbington, we have to do something ourselves.”
“But we can’t!” Briggs complained.
“Says who?” Daxton countered.
“It’s your fault the people with the guns went away…” Someone added, though they made no efforts to be seen. Others murmured a sort of agreement. They had felt safer knowing they had weapons to protect themselves with. After what happened with Eos, those weapons were gone. The police had gathered them all up and got rid of them, and arrested the people who had them.
“They arrested my dad,” A beagle teenager said, crossing her arms across her leather chest piece, “Just because Eos bought plans off him for guns that didn’t work.”
“Well he shouldn’t have done that.” Laila cocked a brow at the girl.
“They were models! Eos reverse-engineered them!” The girl argued, raising her voice.
Daxton rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We don’t need those guys!” He said, “You can’t expect to be able to protect yourselves if you don’t even try. That’s why they were able to walk in and practically run the place, because everyone just let them walk all over them!”
“It’s better than her!” The chimp boy pointed at Quincey. “She can’t protect us!”
“We can get Echelon to help if we need to.” Kenny cut in harshly, trying to silence the boy. “So quit your whining.”
Quincey just wanted to curl up into a little ball and hide somewhere. Things had taken a turn for the sour and she didn’t have anything she could say that would settle everyone’s nerves. She did fear that conclusion from the very beginning, and she’d pushed it into the back of her mind because she didn’t have to stay there if things went bad. She could have logged off any time. Instead, she felt her breath catch in her chest and she held it as long as she could, just listening as everyone started to yell at each other. Curious minds were restless ones, it seemed.
What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t make promises like Echelon could. If a couple of bad Inklings showed up, she couldn’t say she could beat them.
“Quincey?”
Quincey heard a voice clearer than the others. When they spoke, everyone else seemed to fade to background noise. She looked around for the source, scanning the faces of the thirteen people what had come to get their questions answered… or were there more? It looked like there were more than that on a second glance. Did more show up? Confused, Quincey scanned the crowd again and again, trying to ignore their angry faces as they argued with her friends.
She almost missed a pair of blue eyes looking right at her. A little shrew girl was among the crowd, so tiny and so young that she was almost swallowed up by the bigger bodies all around her. She had black hair and was dressed like a new Navy recruit in the game. Her gray fur was a mute tone, something that made her blend in. She was very unassuming, even in the way she stared at Quincey. When they locked eyes, the girl just nodded – it was a small, timid gesture. Quincey was granted a name from her messenger: Harley. Just Harley.
“Um, yes?” Quincey spoke. Her friends, who were with her in Laila’s room in the real world, stopped their arguing to turn their attention to Quincey. They didn’t hear half of the conversation.
“Is… is it true that Inklings can be bad? How do you know if they’re bad?” Harley asked.
Quincey thought about it. “I don’t know,” She confessed. “Inklings do become more like their hosts over time, so… maybe they’re only really bad if you’re bad?”
The girl gasped and seemed to clam up. This caught Quincey’s attention.
“Why?” Quincey asked.
“Do they tell lies?” The girl asked, “What if they say they’re good, but they’re really not?”
“Say they’re good?” Quincey repeated.
The girl seemed to get incredibly nervous. “I… I have… Um…” She stuttered, and her face went awful red, making her stand out more. “I was on vacation with my papa and mom in Locksmouth when… w-when Osoth invaded? And I met an Inkling?”
Quincey was no dim girl. She stared at the girl in concern. “Met?”
“In my dreams?” The girl shrugged.
“You’re hosting an Inkling.” Quincey successfully deduced, and the girl nodded her head. “That would mean you’ve had it for almost two months.”
“I haven’t told anybody,” Harley said, distressed, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Do… you know what to do?” The girl stared at Quincey hopefully.
Quincey exhaled, averting her gaze and looking for some kind of answer that would satisfy the girl. “Well, if you’ve had it for that long and nothing’s happened, then it must be okay, right?” She reasoned with the girl. She wanted so badly to go over there and speak to Harley more personally, but she didn’t want to single her out either.
“Can you come see?” Harley asked, hope shining in her eyes. “You’re the only one who can! You’re the only other person who’s got one!”
“You want to meet me?” Quincey asked, “Um… I could do that. Where?”
“At my house.” Harley said, “Papa is out with mom, I’m alone.”
Quincey wasn’t sure exactly how she should feel about what was being laid out before her. What was winning out was an intense feeling of obligation to this girl. Harley seemed so worried about her Inkling, and at the same time seemed relieved that she could finally reach out to someone. Quincey wanted nothing more than to believe her, though some doubts did enter her mind. Harley could have just been a ploy by her enemies. She did have enemies. Anyone who hated Inklings, Eos especially, was her enemy through no real effort on her part.
“Lumina.” Harley said, snapping Quincey out of her doubtful daze. “Her name is Lumina.”
“Huh?” Quincey blinked her eyes.
“My Inkling. Her name is Lumina.” Harley elaborated.
“Lumina?” Quincey repeated. Harley nodded.
“That’s what she told me.” She said.
A name was just enough to push Quincey to action. She licked her lips and then sucked them in, nodding with her chin buried against her neck. “Okay,” Quincey said, quietly, “I can meet you, if you want. Then maybe you can introduce me to Lumina.”
Harley nodded. “I will!”
“Alright then.” Quincey smiled a little at the girl, and the girl smiled back. She disappeared moments later, having logged out of the game, but not before leaving Quincey a message. It appeared in her inventory as a rolled up piece of paper, and when Quincey read it, it was an address. Parkview Heights, 1608. An apartment in Harbington.
Quincey returned to the shouting argument.
“You know we can’t do anything! And so what if I’m scared? That’s normal, you lunatic!” The chimp boy was all up in Daxton’s face; or as much as he could be anyway, since Daxton was taller.
Daxton shook his head. “Don’t be scared. That’s how people lose before they even start. Nothing’s impossible, even Inkling stuff.”
“They were gonna sink Anchorsway!” Someone else yelled.
The fuss wasn’t letting up. Every time Quincey opened her mouth to politely excuse herself, she was cut off by someone else shouting their concerns. They were legitimate concerns, no doubt, but Quincey had no time to entertain them. Eventually she simply reached up and took off her VR headset, and her avatar disappeared from the game.
Kenny and Daxton took their headsets off as well. “What’s going on?” Daxton asked.
Quincey was already getting up. She didn’t have to do much to get ready aside from put her shoes on and go, but even so she was pacing around Laila’s bedroom in a bit of a confused state. “Someone there has an Inkling,” She explained, trying to sort her own thoughts, “A little girl. She wants me to go meet her.”
Daxton and Kenny looked at one another. “Someone else has an Inkling?” Kenny asked, “Are you sure?” He turned his attention back to Quincey, one eye squinted to show his suspicion. “Why would they just be telling you that now? Why didn’t they tell you sooner?”
Quincey shrugged, standing by the bedroom door. “She said she had been hosting this one since Osoth invaded Locksmouth. That would mean that she had an Inkling even longer than I have.” Quincey seemed anxious as she stood there ready to go. “Maybe she wasn’t sure about me, not the other way around.”
“I guess nobody else has actually seen you do the Duplex thing…” Daxton figured, rolling his shoulders in a shrug.
“Exactly. So this girl might be taking a chance, right?” Quincey nodded to her own question.
Kenny raised a finger and Quincey sighed. “Or,” The boy started, “It’s someone trying to draw you out into the open so they can… I don’t know, capture you again?”
Given the possibility of such an outcome, Quincey took pause. She breathed in deep and let it out through her nostrils in a frustrated sound. “Well, I can’t just ignore it. What if it’s a real Inkling? She asked me for help.” Quincey reasoned with the boy, who sighed as well to acknowledge that such a thing was just as possible.
“I’ll go with her.” Daxton got up from the floor and smoothed out his clothes as he took to Quincey’s side.
“Oh yeah, because if Eos is still around, you’ll do a whole heck of a lot.” Kenny regarded the other boy sharply. Daxton frowned.
“If Eos is still around, then… I’ll just take care of them myself.” Quincey pensively declared. Of course she didn’t want such a thing to come to pass, but at the same time she couldn’t just do nothing. She had a power, and Inking with Duplex did give her strength. It was a strength to be used in short bursts, but maybe the people in the game had a point. If something happened, she had to use that strength. It was just a scary thought; there was no amount of planning that could be done for such a thing.
Kenny stared her down for a moment. “You sure?” He asked.
Quincey nodded.
“I’ll only bring Daxton,” She said, “I don’t want to scare her. If anything goes wrong, I’ll call, and we’ll leave. I’ll… I’ll bash a door down if I have to, I can do that.”
“Yeah well one-vee-one me!”
Laila was still playing the game, seated on her bed, controller in hand and goggles on her face. She wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention, and was evidently still busying herself with the group that had gathered to put Quincey to task. Everyone regarded her as she tapped buttons and moved joysticks. “I’ll stay here with her I guess,” Kenny rolled his eyes, “For a while anyway. I gotta get home soon. I promised an old lady in my building I’d come by and fix her TV.”
“Well you have fun fixing old lady TVs,” Daxton said, putting an arm around Quincey, “We’ll check this out.”
-
--
-
The ride to the residential sector was filled with apologies.
Duplex really had started taking after Quincey. The Inkling apologized to her over and over again for myriad reasons. It was sorry for being weak, sorry for not being able to do anything in the face of all the resentment that Quincey was facing. It was comforting that Duplex was sorry, that it had at least the sense to acknowledge that Quincey was doing her best on its behalf… but in the end, apologizing wasn’t going to fix anything. Duplex could be as sorry as it wanted, in the end that wasn’t enough.
But Duplex was weakened. Its body, if one could even call it physical, was falling apart. It was suffering the bleed, even though it wasn’t exposed to Quincey’s dimension. Every day it trickled away and every day Quincey gave it what she could. The visits to canvas were delaying the process, but it seemed like nothing could stop it. She wanted to apologize too. She was sorry for being weak, sorry for not being able to do more in the face of it all. She couldn’t blame herself for that though; she was trying her best, wasn’t she? And surely Duplex hadn’t been just letting things go. It was doing its best as well, wasn’t it?
The people on Skyships of Conquest asked her a very particular question that sat poorly with her. They wanted to know if Quincey was some kind of super hero. A super hero like Natalie and Echelon were, like Carrie and Arus, like Jacent; they wanted her to be like them, who were clearly exceptional people with exceptional abilities and drives even without Inklings. Quincey wasn’t that. She didn’t fight bullies or right wrongs. She always had someone else solve those problems for her. She had always been dependent on others for support. She never was the one who allowed others to look up to her. She’d been really complacent all her life in being looked down on.
It almost didn’t seem right to ask Daxton for help. He was there, he took the ride with her, he walked off the train with her, and he was right by her side every step of the way toward Harley’s apartment building. He was the kind of person who didn’t mind being looked up to. He wasn’t afraid of the responsibility and he had the ability to shoulder that burden. He had strong shoulders. His will was ironclad. He was so brave it bordered on insanity. That one boy called him a lunatic. Quincey needed that kind of crazy now. Daxton’s stride kept her going. It always did feel like she was following him everywhere he went – he just marched on without any sense of worry.
Daxton squeezed her hand as they walked. Quincey had been really quiet, even when he tried to speak with her. He knew that something was bothering her. She always went quiet like that when something was on her mind and she wasn’t exactly a hard read, not with how long he’d known her. Those kids got to her. It was obvious that they had, it was all over her face. He would have happily let her stand behind him, to take it on the chin for her, but it seemed like she was on her own little island out there and he couldn’t do anything to help.
Seeing her out in the cold like that, it bothered him. He’d never been unable to help her before. The past month had been a frightening time for him. He’d been almost helpless against Eos and the Inklings. He still hadn’t forgiven himself that it was Natalie to pull her out of Caduceus Manor and not him. Sure, he’d helped in some small way, but he wanted to help her. He wanted to be the one that made sure everything was better for her.
“Hey.” Daxton stopped her when they emerged from the station, stepping out into the overcast autumn afternoon. She turned to him, somber tones in her expression that suited the weather. He couldn’t help but frown a little himself.
“It’ll be alright,” he said. “Don’t let those guys get to you.”
Quincey removed her hand from Daxton’s and pushed both of them into the pockets of her jacket. It was a magenta jacket with flattened shoulders and a single row of buttons that ran up the left side. She kept them open at her breast, revealing black a black top with a high neck. It gave her chubby frame a broader look and stood out brightly against the dull autumn colours of Harbington. So did her hair, and her green eyes and her rosy cheeks and her freckled face. Still even all that seemed murky in her current state.
“I know. I won’t.” She met Daxton’s eyes, or what would have been his eyes under his messy bangs and knit hat. “I guess it just seems like… we’re running in circles. I thought those people were really curious about Duplex, but all they wanted was…”
Daxton placed his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah,” he said. “Well you don’t owe them anything. Besides, we’re here, right? You’re doing stuff. It may not be repelling an alien invasion, but come on. What exactly are they doing?”
“Well, what am I doing?” Quincey looked over the trees that had long since turned their colours and were beginning to wither up. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing when I get up there,” she said.
Daxton lifted his head in thought, bobbling it left and right as he made an uncertain sound. “Ehhhh… Just do your thing. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Daxton turned and invited Quincey to walk with him. The two of them started down the midway, strolling at a slow pace so they could talk. Harbington was a cool, breezy place that time of year. The trees, evenly spaced in the very midst of the walkway between dividers, benches, and the occasional trash can, rustled in the wind. It looked like it could rain at any second, but there was no precipitation on the forecast. Lights around the houses and apartment buildings flickered on automatically, bathing the darkened murk in a florescent glow, lighting up the streets beneath the connection walks that bridged the gaps between the massively vertical structures.
“Have we talked about it recently?” Quincey asked.
“About what?” Daxton asked in return.
“Duplex. Everything. Eos. Is it annoying? Having to… to put up with everything? I’m really sorry that you have to, um… I guess stick up for me all the time. You always did. It’s never been this bad though.”
Daxton pouted his lip in thought. He slipped an arm around Quincey and pulled her close as they walked. Quincey moved to rest her arm around his waist and push that hand into the pocket of the three-quarter wrap, long coat that he wore. “Well…” he started off as if to confess something. “The way I look at it, it’s worth all the trouble. I mean, I’m not just going to let people be jerks to you or anything. You don’t deserve it.”
Quincey nodded. “Yeah, but isn’t it a hassle? I really don’t want to be a burden or anything…”
“Look,” Daxton sighed. “It’s rough, I’m not gonna lie. I’m kind of blind here, no pun intended. Still, that doesn’t really change anything. I’m ready to deal with stuff as it comes, and if you need me, I’ll be there. That’s pretty much all there is to it, right? You’re my girlfriend. I’m gonna be there for you, for whatever you need.”
Daxton lowered his head a little and added, “Even if I do feel kind of useless.”
Quincey frowned at him, placing her other hand on his chest. “Oh,” she said. “Don’t, please.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not a super hero like Natalie is, so what am I supposed to do? We’ve got very different levels now, me and you. You’re more capable than me in the end.”
“No, I’m not,” Quincey argued, “I’m… stuck. I can’t do anything. Duplex can’t do anything. I need you around. I want you to be here. You help me with things. Maybe I’m just asking too much… I don’t want to make it seem like a job.”
“Well it is kind of my job.” Daxton said, rubbing Quincey’s arm. “Happy fife, happy life.”
Quincey blushed. “That is not how that goes, and you know it.”
Daxton laughed a little. “What, isn’t it?”
Quincey stifled a giggle by turning her head and pushing her forehead on his shoulder. She breathed in the smell of him as she did with a little snort. That was a good smell – fruity shampoo, Edward’s. He was always saying stuff like that, getting quotes wrong just to tease her. Her heart was beating. She needed that.
“I’m glad you’re still around,” she said.
He slowed to a stop with her, scanning around before dipping his head down to regard her. “You’ve been around my entire life pretty much,” he said. “I’d be a really shitty boyfriend if I up and bailed now.”
Quincey tucked in against him. “You’re a good boyfriend,” she blushed.
“Yeah.” Daxton closed his strong arms around her and gave her a firm hug. She tensed just so. “Let’s go home after this and have lunch at my place. Just you and me. Sound good?”
Quincey lifted her head. Daxton was staring past her at the Parkview Heights apartment building. It looked like all the others, really – a big metal rectangle with glass windows, stretched so high that from down there it looked as if they might scrape the dome’s protective field at its apex. Tubes, like big glass hamster tubes, connected one to the other, stretching for blocks from the corners or edges to reach other buildings. Parkview looked like some kind of cornerstone to support a cluster of tendrils that stuck all the buildings together at various heights like a spider web.
There was a certain dystopian feel to it when the sun wasn’t being reflected in the windows. Quincey felt a wave of chill run over her body. She actually shuddered, noticeably. It was a powerful reaction, so much so that she was surprised. It wasn’t just nerves. Something had happened. Duplex felt it too.
“That’s… weird.” Quincey blinked, confused.
“What?” Daxton asked.
Quincey let out a little groan as she rubbed her nape, squeezing it. “I feel… ngh.” She spoke, but a twang of some strange sensation struck her, making her wince. She felt a quiver in her body. She felt a tremble in Duplex. Her Inkling rippled beneath her skin, spurring her to queasy unease. “Unh…” She groaned, starting to feel fuzzy.
“Hey, are you alright?” Daxton grabbed hold of her, concerned. With all that Inkling nonsense, he wasn’t going to take any shift in her health too lightly.
Quincey lifted her head slowly to the skies. She stepped forward, Daxton’s hands gingerly leaving her as she moved away from him. She stepped out onto the street, not at all mindful for any traffic, though there had been none. She peered up at the clouds, focusing on one spot in the east. Something in her mind was just burning, some feeling that nagged at her. She squinted at the cluster of gray fluff that hung up above, blotting out the sun and the open air of the Earth’s actual atmosphere.
She let out a shaky, fearful breath. Something in her head just screamed at her. Something was out there. Something was on its way.
“Quinn?” Daxton tried to get her attention. To him she was just staring at the sky, lips slightly parted, and her expression squinty and confused. He tried to see what she was looking at, and even if his STOP allowed him to zoom in, see heat signatures, or track electromagnetic currents… he just could not see anything up there but empty sky. He stepped out onto the street and gently took hold of her arm. “Hey, come on.”
She pulled against him when he tried to move her back onto the midway walk. “Wait,” she said. “Just… wait.”
There was a blue flash in the sky. Somewhere behind the clouds there was an energy roiling, like lightning readying for a strike. It started short flickers and picked up into a glittering cavalcade. It built, it grew, into a shape in the sky. A disc formed, so far away it looked like a small dot on the horizon, like a faraway moon setting over the buildings. At that point, Daxton saw it too. He stepped forward and would have been squinting if he could, his lip curled up.
“What the heck is that…?”
No sooner had the words left Daxton’s mouth, there came a discharge. A vibrating thrum of energy erupted in the distance and shot out in a wave, rumbling Harbington’s residential sector as the shockwave washed over the dome. The strong-force containment shuddered, the normally invisible protection becoming, for a moment, a rippling seabed of white. It flickered as the buildings shook. It lasted only moments, and the dome resumed its transparency in seconds. But the eruption came on the toes of something large. The blue light had expanded behind the clouds, and burned with such intensity that it looked like a sun. Something swirled in the depths of the hole that had been freshly torn into reality – bits and pieces of Earth, perhaps, or something slightly different.
“What…?” Quincey panted. Something in her had her heart fluttering.
Even though it was so very far away, it felt as if all sound was sucked in when the bright blue portal suddenly collapsed, closing in on itself to disappear. Again, a thrum of power shook Harbington. The Earth shuddered beneath Quincey’s boots, causing her to take only a step to make sure she kept standing. After that, there was nothing. Quincey and Daxton waited and saw nothing more. The pig girl looked at Daxton, and he returned her gaze.
“How did you know that was going to happen?” Daxton asked the obvious question. Quincey shook her head. She had no idea.
For a few moments more, they waited. When nothing happened, they picked up to leave. Daxton took hold of Quincey’s hand and the two of them made their way across the street toward Parkview Heights. They stepped onto the sidewalk where Quincey took another look up above.
There was something shining up there. It pierced the clouds, glimmering brilliantly and white, like a shooting star. The shape seemed to split apart as she watched it, becoming several smaller objects that spread out just a little from the initial starting point.
Daxton’s ear twitched.
Very quietly, the rushing of air began its steady incline. It was a dull whistle that picked up into a howl. The glimmering lights split the sky and their shapes became more distinct, getting larger as they grew closer. Whatever they were, they were falling. There was a point where the falling stars tearing through the sky made the sound of raging flames, thrusting like jet engines. Daxton and Quincey weren’t sure if the falling stars were going to pass by or if they were going to land. The answer came as the scatter of impacts on the dome’s field, a crash with all the force of falling meteors. The resounding boom was nigh deafening. Both Quincey and Daxton cringed and covered their ears.
The stars burned. They blazed. They seared Harbington’s Dome, burning holes into it like paper. Their massive bulk forced through, and they screamed burning trails through the sky as they bombed to Earth. All of a sudden they were crashing into buildings and scattering all over the dome. When one touched down a block from where Daxton and Quincey were standing, it burrowed a small crater into the street. It shook the world, or so it felt, and the teens were thrown to the sidewalk. Other similar impacts echoed that one in the distance, and one crashed right into Parkview Heights, punching through the metal skyscraper and not coming out the other side.
Like a mortar attack, it was over, leaving destruction in its wake. Daxton and Quincey remained huddled on the ground, arms over their heads to protect themselves from any collateral damage. Bits of scrap and glass fell from the apartment, but far enough away that the crashing debris was harmless. Slowly they lowered their arms and pushed themselves up to their feet, with Daxton picking Quincey up to help her along. Strangely enough, neither of them yelled or screamed, not even once. Maybe they hadn’t the mind to. Maybe they were too surprised.
“What was that?” Quincey was breathless, her eyes wide with shock.
Daxton was speechless. He shook his head, just to express that he had no idea while his lips failed to form any words.
Citizens left their houses, murmuring their confusion. They exited their homes like they were coming out from under rocks, approaching the massive thing that had landed right in the middle of an intersection. They were wary and fearful, as they had every right to be; it wasn’t every day that something punched through the dome’s protective barrier. In fact, for as long as they could remember, nothing had ever done that before. Not only that, but what remained in that crater was entirely alien in nature.
Quincey and Daxton moved closer as well. The object appeared as a crystal, or something like it. It bore flat edges and ridges along its surface, and it shone in the light. It likely did not have any actual colour of its own, but something about the light of the sun, even hidden by the clouds, made shapes dance in muted gray tones over the crystal’s surfaces. It seemed to smolder, but not with flames. Bits and pieces of what could only be described as itself were flaking off in something between embers and droplets; semi-liquid that made the stone appear to bleed. The drops evaporated in the air, leaving no trace behind. By far the strangest aspect of the crystal, however, was the way it seemed to fizzle. It crackled, the entire shape seeming to lose itself for a moment and flicker like a video feed getting hit with interference. It did so periodically, with no real pattern, and would always correct itself into a constant, solid shape in seconds. Still, the process was perpetual. Some part of it, no matter how small, would flicker and shake.
“What is that? Talon, don’t go near it.” A woman held her young son back, the small simian boy staring with bold-eyed wonder at the strange object from his place at the side of the road.
“I think…” Quincey stepped closer. She resonated with the crystal in a way no one else would have felt. It was a familiar sense of warmth and fullness. “It’s prana. It’s like Castle Blackwolf.”
“Prana?” Daxton remembered the concept, but he never really thought of what prana actually was. “Doesn’t that come from people?”
Quincey stepped down into the crater, sliding to its bottom. She stepped forward cautiously, hand outstretched. The best way to know for sure was to come into contact with it, just like when Duplex was in Canvas.
Daxton stepped in after her. “Hey hold on,” he said. “What’s it doing falling out of the sky?”
“I don’t know.” Quincey answered. Something in her mind was telling her not to touch that thing. Something else, something stronger, was drawing her toward it like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was Duplex, in its prana-starved state, needing so badly to take in that spare prana and lap it up like water in a desert that it couldn’t help itself. Whatever the case, Quincey stepped forward until the strange static diffusion made her own visage flicker and stutter. Then she placed her hand on the crystal.
First came the feeling like her eyes were burning away. It was searing pain, shredding her cornea, exposing her vision to something alien, something bright. Harbington was gone, and all that remained was burning white, empty space where no sense of depth could prevail. She had taken distance for granted, it felt, when there stretched before her absolute nothingness, not even a landmark to tell where she stood. Her hand touched something, though she saw nothing. Her muscles seized, her body at once becoming so hyper-sensitive that she could hear the creaking strain of her muscle cord and tendons.
A rough screeching sound startled her. Visions momentarily played before her eyes, scratched-out black silhouettes that starkly contrasted the white empty. They flashed across her vision like a malfunction in a video, displaying chunks of scenes in a disjointed manner so swiftly they almost made music – screeching, horrifying music. Things she didn’t recognize and places she’d never been, all suffering, all dying. People she thought she might have known were ripped apart in front of her, but the images went by so fast she couldn’t actually recognize anyone.
It picked up in a pitch. Images came faster. Black slashes cut into her eyes like spraying blood. Alien forms twisted and broke. Landscapes burned away, disintegrating into barren dust. Her brain felt like crushed watermelon sloshing around in her skull. The screaming got louder and her eardrums screamed in kind as her head throbbed and pounded. Her breath had been sucked out through a vacuum, and her lungs were left shriveled like sun-dried grapes. She met all this with silence, wanting to scream but feeling like her teeth might jump out of her face the moment she tried.
Then something touched her. Hands on either side of her head. She was snatched up and forced to look at the humanoid image of a face made of darkly cross-hatched charcoal. Its eyes burned bright in its skull, too sharp, too wicked. It might have had horns, but the shape of it, the scratches it was made from, jumped around like it was running through a rough animation on flip-paper. It scared Quincey. It scared Duplex even more.
And the creature hissed two simple words:
“Found you!”
The image flashed as Quincey felt her body get pulled backward. She fell, collapsing into the dirt in the crater at the crosswalk. Daxton had pulled her free and she just laid there staring at the sky with blank, wide eyes. The crystal thrummed with power, releasing a pulse that pushed everyone around it back. It rumbled, then it burned. It literally burned, melting globs of the real world away, scorching a hole in the fabric of the physical. These burning blobs with their brown-singed edges roiled and bubbled around the crystal, and then they shot off in all directions.
They took on shapes in the same scratched-in charcoal shade surrounded by the burning white of melted film like an aura. Some took on small humanoid shapes, and some took on larger ones, while others appeared as flying, single-eyed skulls. Some were bipedal, some walked on four legs, and some had no legs at all. The crystal spit out shape after shape that seemed to unfurl before everyone’s eyes and look like a living monster index from Kingdoms of Roaming. Every form was monstrous, grotesque, proportioned or developed in some way to appear alien, if they resembled a regular human at all.
Daxton watched as charcoal goblins, bats, skulls, and more were ejected from the crystal. They landed on the ground or flew through the air, and the scene erupted into chaos in almost no time at all. Indiscriminately, the monsters began their spree of destruction, zipping off in whatever direction their fancy would take them. The citizens who had gathered fled with screams of panic, chased down by small, club-wielding monsters with pointy ears and chins. Flying charcoal skulls swooped down to terrorize the people down below, and brutish, silhouette orcs began smashing and destroying everything they could get their hammers and hands on.
Daxton pulled Quincey to her feet, hauling her up rather easily in an adrenaline-filled panic. Her vision doubled, wavering and blurring before she regained focus, her heart pounding in terror. “Oh my god,” She gasped, “She found me.”
“Epheral?!” Daxton shouted over the chaos as he pulled her out of the crater.
Quincey got the mind to scramble as another shape globbed where she once stood, seeming to scratch itself into existence, larger and larger. Her boots slipped on the dirt as she crawled out of the hole, and she looked back to see the monster taking shape. “Yes, Epheral, she…!” Quincey paused, watching the monster rise taller than she, taller than Laila even, and twice as thick. It had one, big white eye on its head and while the details weren’t filled in on its body, it was evident that it brandished a massive club.
“She followed Duplex here!” Quincey squealed as the cyclopean beast swung at her. Daxton pulled her away before the scratchy club could make contact, and it instead cracked the pavement where she had stood.
“We’re outta here!” Daxton pulled Quincey roughly by the arm and turned to run. She followed him for a few steps as the cyclops lumbered slowly after them, and bird-women soared over their heads.
“Wait, wait!” Quincey pulled Daxton back by his coat, nearly choking the boy as his legs wanted to keep going. “Harley’s in trouble!”
Daxton looked up to where Quincey was pointing at the giant hole another of the crystals had punched into the Parkview Heights apartment building. Quincey didn’t give him a chance to argue, and pulled him with an impressive strength toward the apartment’s front doors. They scampered across the midway in a hurry, ducking and dodging strange fantasy creatures as they went.
They didn’t make it there. The glass doors leading into the lobby burst open to an outpour of Bullywugs. The menacing, froglike shapes hopped out with tiny spears and charged them in numbers no fewer than five at the least. Quincey gasped sharply, shrieked, and released Daxton so she could cower. Her body inked over immediately, covering her in silver skin that swirled with toxic plumes. Her torso split in two, bearing two heads, four shoulders, and four arms. The Duplex duo of Quinceys jerked in reaction, grabbing the launching, spear-wielding monsters by their bodies or their weapons and threw them away. Daxton himself reacted fast enough to at least throw one behind him.
Duplex split into two, and one rushed forward like a charging bull to clear the path, knocking small frogmen aside like bowling pins. The other grabbed Daxton and yanked the dumbstruck dog along to finish the journey.
The silver piggy was the next thing to burst through those doors, but that time into the building. Daxton and Duplex came in shortly after that, and they slammed the doors shut by pulling them closed and trying to hold them. The Duplex clone moved into the lobby to grab a bench and struggled to move it, dragging it along the floor until she could bar the door with its bulk. The black Bullywugs chipped at the glass, but their spears found no purchase against the impact-proof material.
Daxton and Duplex stepped back. The boy was trying to catch his breath, and the Inkling was exhausted. The silver skin retreated, peeling away from Quincey’s body to return to wherever it hid, while the copy of it simply popped like a balloon, sound effect and all. Quincey sucked in heavy, tired breaths, bracing herself on her knees as she hunched over.
“Epheral’s all about prana, she knows where to find it,” Quincey explained, “And Inklings…”
“Use prana, right.” Daxton finished, catching on. “So she can sniff ‘em out?”
“They’re probably the largest…” Quincey swallowed, panting, “… Concentrations of prana to exist on this planet. If she’ll want anything first, it’ll be to… to suck them up and break them down.”
Shattering glass from the floors above was loud enough to draw the teens’ attention for a moment, making them stare at the ceiling. The gurgling growls of angry frogmen created some background percussion to emphasize the severity of the situation.
“Lumina.” Quincey muttered.
Daxton took her hand. “Let’s go.”
They ran to the elevator and called the lift, having to wait an uncomfortable amount of time while monsters clawed at the doors and windows. People’s screams and cries for help still echoed from the distance or were muffled through the walls. Thumps and bangs and crashes drummed in tempo among it all. The ding of the arriving elevator was the first good sound they had wanted to hear.
The doors opened to a menagerie of bat creatures that poured out of the metal booth in a flurry of motion, so tightly packed that they appeared as one flapping cloud of black with jutting wings and multiple white, glowing eyes. Quincey screamed as she was overtaken by the flapping mass of limbs that clawed at her hair and screeched at her. One snatched Daxton’s hat off his head, but the boy was quick to jump up and pop the little monster out of the sky, never once releasing the article. He returned it to his head and proceeded to blindly snatch monsters out of the sky and brutalize them in ruthless fashion.
He and Quincey slammed them off the floors and walls, the girl frantic and the boy precise. Quincey stomped her boot into the creatures and Daxton simply clipped them out of the air when they came low enough. Their talons scratched their skin and left behind burning sensations of pain that they had to ignore, even if they did make Quincey tear up. Remarkably, they did well. After enough abuse, the oversized bats would fall to the ground and shatter like glass, even their burning aura breaking into shards.
After a while, the remaining bats retreated down the hallway. The defeated foes lay around the teens like broken glass, with the same static scratch and flicker as the crystal that birthed them.
“More prana crystal?” Daxton asked, studying the shards around them.
Quincey knelt down, picked one up, and it seemed to resonate with power in her hand. Tentatively, she closed her fingers around it in a fist and crushed the shard, half expecting to be cut. Instead, when she opened her hand, the shard was gone, and Duplex felt just a little better. “I-It looks like it.” She said, jittery.
“Maybe we should take the stairs,” Daxton reasoned, suddenly very wary of the elevator. “What floor was she on again?”
“… The sixteenth.” Quincey whined.
-
--
-
“Argh, these old TVs…” Kenny grumbled as he picked up the bulky screen and tilted it in his hands. He peered into the open back panel at the gathering of wires and connectors there, circuit boards and screwed-in plastic pieces keeping things relatively nice and tidy. He squinted, looping his arm around the screen to hold it up from below as he took a small flashlight out of a pouch on his belt and turned it on. He put it between his lips to hold it as he stared into the television’s inner depths.
Old stuff wasn’t so bad in terms of knowing how to fix it. Kenny could hear that something had come loose inside the thing just by shaking it around – he just needed to figure out what. The problem with old machinery is that it wasn’t built to be as convenient as it was to be functional. Panels and dividers often broke up the essential parts of the machine, keeping inexperienced hands from fiddling with something they shouldn’t have. Kenny had done a lot of studying, his hands were plenty experienced. Still, it felt like that bulky black box could have held a space shuttle’s records in it, as much as electromagnetics and coloured light.
“Mm.” Kenny grunted an affirmative as he saw just one wire having been stripped and pulled from its connector. He carefully set the screen down on its stand and reached inside, with tiny rubber grips wrapped around his fingertips, and he carefully, nimbly maneuvered the bare wire. He wrapped it around the connecter tight and touched the end to the circuit. The television flickered with life, its screen somewhat distorted and static-filled.
“Oh!” An elderly goat woman brought her pale white fingers to her pale white lips, staring curiously as Kenny worked. “Did you find out what’s wrong with it?”
“Loose wire,” Kenny gruffed, the light bobbing between his lips as he mumbled around it, “Easy fix. Can’t do it right now, gotta get a new wire.”
Kenny set the TV back up proper. It worked, but not as well as it could have. The real solution would have been to get a whole new TV, but Mrs. Sternwick was so stubborn about that kind of stuff. Kenny could have found her a TV that would have lasted probably the rest of her life – she probably only had about thirty years left in her.
Still, the seventy year old goat couldn’t have looked a day over fifty. The years were being nice to her. She wore her little old lady glasses and her old lady smock top, black with frills and gaps designed into the edges like a doily. She had her little old lady slip-on shoes and her old lady spandex pants. She hugged him with that old lady sweetness, and the fat old lady breasts pushing into his back. She held up real well in spite of time and age. A few graying furs and hairs, or some dull-looking horns didn’t stop her for a second.
Kenny wiggled uncomfortably as she doted on him. “Such a sweet boy. Are you sure you don’t want any repayment?”
Kenny gently separated himself from her. “No need,” He said, “But seriously, get Mr. Sternwick to buy you a new TV. This one is crap.”
The woman gave him a disapproving look. “You’re just too young to appreciate older things,” She insisted, “I’ve had this TV for longer than you’ve graced this Earth.”
“It shows.” Kenny removed the rubber caps over his fingers and returned them to a pouch on his belt with his flashlight.
Mrs. Sternwick clicked her tongue, another clucking sound of disapproval. “Is old really so bad?”
She looked at him, and he looked at her. He looked her up and down, his jaw tight. “No?”
The woman erupted into light-hearted laughter, her floppy ears shaking about at the sides of her head, and her curly blue hair bouncing with the motion. She stepped past him, pushing her hand onto the top of his head and mussing his fur as she did. “Well, you deserve something for being such a nice boy,” She said, “Wait right there.”
Kenny grunted in annoyance as he was pet like a dog. He turned and watched the old woman disappear into the kitchen. The boy crossed his arms and let out a frustrated little sigh. He wasn’t sure if she was about to come back with some cookies, or just appear in the doorway in a slip-on nightie. Either option seemed possible.
Rather suddenly, a vibration shook the apartment. The small ferns on Mrs. Sternwick’s glass shelves rattled in their ceramic cups and the old wooden clock mounted on the wall clattered and fell askew. The shake went through the entire abode, making everything shudder, including Kenny’s heart. He blinked his eyes and took stock of himself, patting himself down with some urgency. Once he determined he wasn’t having an affection-induced panic-attack, he looked around the house in confusion.
“The fuck was…”
Then came the wooshing sound that shook the house even more violently than before, rattling those ferns right off onto the floor. Kenny jerked into a wide-legged stance, eyes wide as he waited out the storm. It sounded like a space craft was falling out of the sky, flames and all! It was a roaring sound that went right over the building and shook the thing so hard that Kenny’s teeth rattled.
And then an explosion rocked the floor just below him, and the shock shook the entire apartment and threw Kenny to the floor. Mrs. Sternwick bleated in alarm as she too must have suffered the blast. It was clear as day how somewhere just under them, the structural integrity of the apartment building had been compromised. There was a shattering of glass, a thundering boom of foundation being blown apart, the crunching squeak of metal being rent. The floor shook under Kenny as something, something large, rolled through the apartments, breaking down walls and crushing appliances.
“Kenny, dear?” The old goat peeked out from the kitchen, eyes wide. “What on Earth was that?”
“Fuck, I dunno.” Kenny pushed himself up, shaking the cobwebs out of his head.
TH-THUM TH-THUM TH-THUMP[/b]!
Something trampled through the floor below. It crashed about, smashing things, then stopped. After a moment it started again, pounding around in another direction. Kenny could feel the vibrations through the floor, feeling every movement this strange thing made. It stampeded left, then right, back and forth, soon going in a circle. Kenny could hear something snorting.
A shrill shriek from the outside drew Kenny’s attention toward the window. He stood slowly and made his way across the apartment to peer through the glass. His eyes widened considerably as he saw blackened figures rush out from the building below him and into the sky. They looked like big birds, but strangely designed and far from natural. Their scratchy wings appeared jagged and their bodies were too long. There were a number of them beginning to circle the sky, and when they turned just so, Kenny could see their human-like forms. They had legs and shoulders and heads. They were surrounded in bubbling white and brown, and their eyes were piercing white lights.
“Are those…?” Kenny couldn’t believe his eyes. “Are those… Harpies?”
One of the creatures snapped its head in his direction, as if alerted by his question. Its eyes gleamed, and it fluttered higher into the sky, flailing its head like a chicken as it let out a shriek just like the one he’d heard before. Kenny saw the others react, seeming to gather close to the one that had spotted him, and then in a moment they were charging the window.
“Oh shit!” Kenny squeaked.
He stumbled back, tripped, and fell onto his butt just as the black charcoal harpies smashed in the glass window and began to crowd into the apartment, their talons slashing and their wings flapping, doing everything they could to get inside. Kenny was showered in sparkling little shards of glass that he raised his arms to shield himself from, and scratchy black feathers seemed to rain down after it, sprinkling down onto the carpet. The harpies screamed, their voices like sharp chirps and caws. Eventually they passed the precipice, but that was only when one barreled through the clumped mass like a runaway boulder.
It dropped another creature as it hurtled through the apartment, too fast to stop until it slammed into the far wall. The dropped-off passenger seemed to uncurl from a ball, stretching into human-like features. Two strong legs ending in clawed feet, two arms, a thick chest, and narrow, vaguely draconic features. It’s body, although pitch black and comprised entirely of jagged, badly-animated lines, looked like it was wearing bulky armor and had a sword in one hand and a shield in the other.
Mrs. Sternwick was understandably screaming her old head off, cowering into the kitchen about as far as she could go. Kenny was stunned to silence, staring up at the imposing figure that loomed over him. It looked down with a cold, empty gaze, but the shine in its bright white eyes seemed to look right through him. The draco-warrior raised its arm and brought its heavy, curved blade down toward Kenny hard. The boy rolled and narrowly avoided being cleaved in two, the carpet and floorboards below not surviving the impact.
Kenny scrambled to his hands and feet like an animal and scurried off as frantic as a rodent is wont to do. The draconic beast let out an angry roar and pursued, leaping up and crashing down through old Mrs. Sternwick’s coffee table, shattering it under its bulk as Kenny ran past.
Naturally he went straight for the door. All he could really focus on, aside from the feeling of impending doom shocking the back of his neck, was the sound of his own heartbeat coming from between his ears. He didn’t even notice the dazed harpy at the far end of the room, which leapt up in a flurry of flapping wings to try and claw at him from above. Kenny did an about-face about as quickly as he could, accidentally slamming his shoulder into the groin of the draconic charcoal warrior. It was much unexpected, for both him and the monster. It growled in anger and pain and Kenny let out a pathetic squeak as he ran toward the kitchen, feeling a blade slice some fur off his back, tearing into his shirt.
His shoes hit tile and he felt like he was going faster. Mrs. Sternwick’s kitchen wasn’t very big. It was quite narrow in fact, so much so that Kenny wasn’t sure if the big lumbering dragon-thing chasing him around could even fit in the space that was provided between the cupboards. He ran into the room and stopped, his eyes going right to Mrs. Sternwick, who had taken to the dining room to hide herself behind the table. The poor woman was crying, tears all streaming down her reddened face. She was terrified. It looked like she was going to get Kenny some lemonade, but the pitcher of juice and the glass intended for him were spilled all over the wooden countertop.
The draco-warrior roared again as it slammed its bulky frame into the kitchen’s entryway, getting its wide pauldrons stuck in the frame. It violently wrenched its muscular body to scrape chunks out of the wall, to force its way through into the kitchen. Kenny turned his attention to it in terror. Some animalistic force beckoned him to fight-or-flight, and he immediately dove to the counter to grab a cast-iron frying pan from inside the sink. He slumped down toward the floor, clumsily grabbing its handle and dragging it out. It nearly fell on his own head as he huddled up with it.
He clutched the handle of the pan for dear life, scurrying toward the far wall, which had more pictures of Mrs. Sternwick, Mr. Sternwick, and their kids on it. He shook the photographs when he slammed his back against the wall, panting for breath and watching as the big dragon-thing smashed its way into the kitchen.
“Guh!” Kenny threw his frying pan at the monster. It sailed through the air and struck the thing somewhere on its chest, impacting with a “TANG” and then just falling to the ground in a ruckus.
That had done nothing.
“O-Oh, ha.” Kenny nervously grinned, eyes full of terror.
To return the assault, the draco-warrior turned its body, sliding its tail up onto the counter. With a harsh turn of its frame, its tail lashed across the countertop, picking up clutter as it went to send it flying through the air back at Kenny. There were the expected sorts of things coming his way - a kettle for making tea, a toaster for nice morning breakfasts, and a knife rack, for slicing into red meat. The knives’ magnetic hold on the rack didn’t last, they flew off in scattered directions, some of them uselessly flying into the lower cupboards or onto the floor. But enough of them were headed Kenny’s way. He was about to be the first rodent pin-cushion.
Of course, all he could think to do was lift his arms and use them to block his face. He closed his eyes tight and twisted to curl up against the wall, lifting one leg to maybe defend himself. What that was supposed to accomplish, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. Any effort to defend himself would have been better than nothing.
Knives should have impaled him, or at least struck him with their blunt, hard plastic handles. The kettle and the toaster, at their velocity, should have struck him and at least bruised his ribs or his arms, if not break one of the two. He could have gotten hit in the legs maybe, or some other part. The thing was, he didn’t get hit. He didn’t even hear the clutter hit the wall or the floor. In fact, it seemed as if all the sound had stopped.
Kenny shook. He lowered his arms and lifted his head. The narrow tip of a knife’s gleaming blade was angled straight at his face. His eyes crossed as he looked at it. It was mere inches in front of him. It should have dug into his arms seconds ago, or even between them and into one of his eyes. Somehow it hadn’t. Somehow he was still alive, and even uninjured.
The knife was floating. So was the kettle, and the toaster, its cord dangling below it.
Kenny was covered in red ink and had solid blue eyes, and an O-shaped, drawn-on, blue mouth.
Calmly he lowered his arms and leg. He reached up, simply plucking the knife out of the air.
“Talk about being on the knife’s edge, huh?” He said out loud, his voice intermixed with one more jovial and regal than his own.
He blinked his eyes, his ears perking up. He looked at his red hand, then down at his red body, where all his clothes had been replaced by inky skin.
“WHAAAAAAT?!?!”
