Greg let out a nervous laugh, waved, and then realized he was still totally nude. One hand went to his crotch, the other crossing his chest, though in the movement he caught sight of a new addition to his body. Other than an amount of definition he hadn’t seen in more than a decade, each of his shoulders sported raised scars in the shape of hands.
“H-hi…” Greg cleared his throat and looked from his naked body up to the woman again.
Clearly amused, she let him squirm for a few moments longer before reaching up into the empty air above her head. The air surrounding her hand rippled as she pulled a heavy leather apron and what looked like spandex shorts from thin air and tossed them down to him.
“How’d you end up down there?”
It could have been his utter ignorance of language, but he was struggling to place her accent. Australian? English, Maybe? He pulled the apron on quickly and tugged the shorts up his thighs. It was a rather uncomfortable squeeze for his front bits, but it was better than swinging in the open air.
“It’s uhh…” He looked over at the door and then back up at the woman. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Greg sighed.
“Sorry?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you!” Greg raised the volume only for her to shake her head.
“No, I heard you.” She sighed and pulled a wrench from her belt, and strode over to the bridge. “What language is that? Etosian? Mine’s a little rusty.”
Etosian? Was he not speaking English?
LANGUAGE SETTINGS ADJUSTED:
Switched primary language from Etosian to Ashorian
“Ashorian?” Greg asked to the open air. “What the hell?”
“Hey, there you go!” She jerked her head to the side. “Heads up.”
The woman popped open a panel and lowered a stored rope ladder off the side of the bridge. Greg pulled himself up, rolling over the wall of the bridge and landing flat on his back on the other side. He’d made it out of one nightmare, but was this any better? His fingers probed his shoulder. The raised skin was hot to the touch, but didn’t hurt. The other side, surprisingly cool.
He heard her footsteps approaching. He needed a minute. Just a minute to take stock. The urge to sleep hit him like a truck, but when he closed his eyes all he could see were empty chest cavities.
“You look a little off.” She hovered over him.
“Fine.” Greg said, taking a sharp breath in. “Just a little dizzy.”
“Ooof… never seen a Gifted with scars that bad. You all normally heal too fast for anything to get you that good.” The woman held a hand out to help him to his feet. “I’m Maeve.”
He took her hand, and she jerked him upward with a strength he hadn’t expected. Greg wasn’t particularly tall, but standing beside her now he knew why her apron barely reached his thighs. She looked human… Short, covered in tattoos, and wildly jacked, but human-ish. She’d shaved the sides of her head, replacing the hair with bright blue tattoos that looked to him like Norse runes, while the bright red hair on top was long and wrapped in a single thick braid that stopped at her lower back.
“Greg,” he said, shaking her hand.
“Greg?” She cocked her head then shrugged. “Weird name. You alright?” Maeve asked, poking a gloved finger at the healed over burn on his shoulder. “Is that a hand?”
“Yeah,” reflexively, he winced, but there was no pain. “A souvenir, I guess. Where am I?”
The buildings. The lights. It all felt very Los Angeles. Even the ditch could have been some weird off branch of the LA River. That fog hanging though. That was definitely not right. Greg’s eyes flicked from the heavy cloud to the woman who eyed him suspiciously.
“Rhobair. You hit your head or something?”
“Or something.” Greg muttered, looking back up at the dense fog. “I’m guessing that is not in California?”
“I don’t know what a California is, so I’m gonna say no,” Maeve said, slapping the wrench against the leather gloved hand. Her face scrunched up around her button nose and she sucked on her teeth. “Don’t see a lot of stray Gifted…especially not ones speaking Etosian. You got someplace to go?”
“You keep calling me that…Gifted?” Greg adjusted the shorts as they started to ride up where the sun didn’t shine.
Maeve snorted, narrowed her eyes as if to judge if he were lying, then lifted her eyebrows so high he feared her forehead might disappear completely, all within a few seconds.
“You don’t know what Gifted are?” She gestured up and down his body with the business end of her wrench. “You?”
“No...Am I supposed to?” Greg looked over his shoulder at where he’d emerged over the bridge. “I saw some weird shit down there. Cat people, lizard people, a dude made of rocks…”
Maeve’s jaw went a little slack and she wiggled it back and forth, obviously assessing him. “Okay. Okay…” She sucked on her teeth again and nodded. “Follow me, don’t talk until I tell you to, and if you see anybody with blue mist in their mouth…well, just let me know, alright? There’ve been a lot of reports of them recently”
“Okay?” Greg raised an eyebrow, but hurried after her as she’d already turned on a heel.
Maeve led him down the cobblestone road. After a few minutes of walking, the towers disappearing into the fog tapered off into squat rows of houses. Walking toward them, in the center of the road, a human walked arm and arm with one of the humanoids with fragmented rock for skin. As they got closer, Greg lifted a hand in greeting.
The man bowed his head in his direction, but the woman’s eyes stole Greg’s attention. They had no sclera, whites replaced with what he’d assumed was an extended iris. It was the deepest green he’d ever seen, with orange lines swirling around a tiny white pupil in the center like wildfire.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
He wanted to ask Maeve about the woman, but was not sure how strict the “don’t talk” rule was. The jutting chimneys of homes slowly fell into disrepair or empty lots all together. They passed a park with several people curled up around a fire. Maybe this place wasn’t so different from home.
They’d been moving nonstop for what had to have been an hour. The towers of the city were behind them, but the sounds of heavy machinery and hammering metal announced the arrival of industry.
A smoother material that looked like concrete replaced the cobblestones. Greg watched with fascination as strange boxy devices carrying wood and sheet metal hummed past them, some rolling, others floating. All of them unmanned. A lionman backed a floating forklift out of a garage, cursing at the human inside that was hammering away at an anvil floating above a translucent crucible filled lava.
“Twenty-two hundred hours! Twenty-two hundred hours!”
The volume of the voice had Greg looking for some sort of PA system, but when the time echoed back a few buildings down he spotted the birds. Ravens perched at the head of every few buildings, calling out the time like sentient alarms.
Volatility surpassed 30 percent. Advised to find a safe place to rest.
Not this shit again. Greg swallowed as the blinking yellow bar grew just slightly in his periphery. Now would be a really bad time for those side effects. They’d just turned between two buildings into a tight alleyway. Dumpsters lined the path they weaved through, and up ahead he spotted a faint blue glow.
Resting against the next dumpster was a shirtless human, a dull blue glow emanating from his lips. It wasn’t particularly bright, but very little light pierced the narrow alley. Maeve passed the man without a glance, but Greg could not help but stare. His skin was gray, loose, and completely hairless. Nothing on his head or body. Hell, he didn’t even have eyebrows. The dark sunken eyes snapped in his direction, and he quickly looked away. Greg winced as the dull buzzing started in his head again as they hurried past the man.
NEW QUEST!
Don’t die to the Frost Kissed
0 of 1
Reward:
100x copper obols
10x silver obols
1x bottomless coinpurse
100 experience
The inhuman wail that followed was something he thought he might hear from one of those cheesy monster movies. He spun around in time to see the man leap over the dumpster in his direction.
“Oooh fuuu..”
The rocketing body wasn’t heavy, but it collided with his chest at such a speed it took him off his feet and skidding into the next receptacle. Greg’s vision went static again, the drooling mouth gnashing above him morphing into something inspired by Salvidor Dali. He planted his hands on his aggressor’s shoulders and tried to get his legs up to kick him off.
“Aww Mother Below!” Maeve groaned as she came to his side and started swinging her wrench wildly. “Can’t see him! Hold em still!”
Blackened and rotted teeth snapped together as the man tried to bite at his arms, blue lips giving off the slightest light. Abilities. Come on, what was it called? He didn’t want the demonic one. It didn’t feel right, but what was the other one called?
Greg was finally able to plant his bare feet into the attacker’s chest, but just as he was pushing him off, Maeve missed with a swing of her wrench, colliding with his knee. It gave out instantly. The jaw opened so wide it looked like it may have unhinged. Black and yellow teeth gnashed as time slowed and the blue light radiated from his closing in maw.
This was it.
This was how he died.
Maybe he’d wake up after whatever this thing was ripped him to bits. His brother would be sitting there by his bed, reading some medical textbook. His mother would be pacing the floor, her normal look of disappointment now with hints of worry. Maybe Autumn even showed up, if for nothing else but to make sure he was okay.
The blue glow radiating from the lips got closer.
Radiated.
Radiant…
Radiant Strike
Greg’s fist met the lower jaw with a flash of blinding light. The wailing stopped immediately, and the downward pressure of the assault ricocheted away from the sound of snapping bones. Before he could process another thought, Greg had rolled off his back and planted a knee in its emaciated gut. His fists rained down, one and then the other, each connecting with bursts of white.
Blood was everywhere. It was wrong, though. The red was too bright, but more concerning were the speckles and streaks of black. Every strike lanced pain from Greg’s hands to his elbows, but all he could focus on was the blood. It got brighter and brighter with every strike, but the dark counter to the crimson became more prevalent. As if the more blood that was shed, the less it was actually blood.
Volatility eclipsed 50 percent
Divine Resonance eclipsed 25 percent
Seek out a designated rest area at your earliest convenience
“Alright, alright, ya got em.” He felt thick arms wrap around his torso and pull him away. Maeve sat him down across the small alley and grabbed his hands, shaking her head slightly. “Hey!” She snapped at him. “Look at me.”
The static had faded, the buzzing stopped, replaced by a soft filter that forced him to squint. Everything was just a little too bright. He lifted his head to look at her and found the rune tattoos on the sides of her head glowing faintly. Her powerful fingers dug into his palms, massaging his broken hands. Adrenaline must have kicked into overdrive, because he could barely feel any pain from them.
“You’re alright, couple deep breaths.” She glanced over her shoulder and jumped slightly, causing Greg to flinch. “Patient Mother.” She whispered as she turned to watch the spectacle.
A thin line of silver smoke rose from the corpse’s open mouth. Its face, swollen beyond recognition and slick with black and red fluid, had lost the blue glow, but each cut from his knuckles sprouted a tiny gold fissure. The cracks grew steadily, down its neck, along its chest and arms, until they covered the body. It collapsed from the inside, like a log hollowed out by fire. No blood. No gases, but the thin silver line. Another minute, and any evidence that he’d just beat a man to death was gone, literal smoke in the wind.
QUEST COMPLETE!
Don’t die to the Frost Kissed
[Fragment Surge— Errror] It’s a mi… [Persona Suppressed]
1 of 1
Reward:
100x copper obols
10x silver obols
1x bottomless coinpurse
100 experience
A heavy burlap sack dropped after appearing above his head. It thudded against his skull, rolled down his back, and coins scattered everywhere. Watching the body of what he thought was once a human being slowly burn away from the inside out while he was covered in its blood and…whatever this weird black substance was…drew out a very specific and powerful reaction: unfiltered horror.
Maeve let go of his hands and leapt back a few strides as his empty stomach heaved out yellow bile and foam.
“Ohhh come on now. Not my boots!” She slapped at the toe before reaching up above her head again to pull a towel from thin air and wipe at them.
“Sorry,” Greg groaned as his stomach lurched again. With nothing to come up, he folded in on himself, head between his knees as he rode out the feeling.
After a moment, Maeve moved over to kneel down beside him. He heard her gathering up the coins that had fallen out of the magic bag that his magic UI gave him for completing a real life fucking quest, then she stopped to rub his back.
“You’re alright. I told you to tell me if you saw one of em. Frost Kissed are nasty buggers, but they only attack Gifted.”
Greg swallowed down saliva as it built up, fighting against the urge to upchuck again. She kept calling him that. Gifted. Maybe he was one of those now. He apparently had magic fists. Definitely new, and definitely not anything he’d ever heard of a human having.
“I thought you saw it.” Greg gagged and shuddered. “We walked right by him.”
The strong palm rubbing his back slowed for a moment, but picked right back up. “Normal folk can’t see them. You really don’t know any of this, do you?”
Greg shook his head. “Sorry. Absolutely clueless.”
Maeve gave him a skeptical look. “They get like that from a drug. Don’t know a lot about it, if I’m honest, but I know it turns people into those.” She jerked her head back to the corpse that she could apparently now see. “Come on, Brannoc will figure you out.”
