Chapter 21: Warm Hands
Kodai keeps his eyes trained on the seat in front of him. He suddenly craves his favorite whiskey, that or pollutes, anything to decompress after dealing with his overbearing mother.
The bitch.
Why she always has to push buttons he didn’t know he has is beyond him. It’s like she’s testing me, he thinks. She wants me to go off the handle, like Ryuk. But why?
Well, at least his brother will have some shit to deal with soon enough that will stop him from getting any closer to the truth.
He smiles.
At least that’s how the woman behind the golden door put it. She told Kodai what she’d give him if they were able to pull it off and he’s not one to turn down unlimited power, as she said.
“That’s the first smile you’ve had since we left your apartment,” Tesla says, the humandroid’s features outlined by the bright winter sun. Kodai reaches into his jacket pocket and places a pair of Tom Browne sunglasses on.
“What are your thoughts on Hajime?” he asks as the self-driving Uberyota slows, waits for an opening in a higher airlane, and ramps up its speed almost immediately. The vehicle curves around an oddly shaped SoftBank building, under a sky pass filled with pedestrians.
From there it hugs a Nomura building, and as it passes, Kodai briefly sees the employees inside, sitting at their desks and working obediently.
The sedentary life.
“Hajime is powerful,” she says, “but he is an older model.”
“And you could overpower him, yes?”
“He was designed by Richard Hewman.”
“Who?”
“The creator of all humandroids.”
“Is he still alive?”
Tesla shrugs. “No one has seen him since his disappearance.”
“That’s right, Lorem Ipsum told me Hajime was a one-of-a-kind,” he says, thinking back to his rooftop breakfast with the head of MercSecure. “But you are newer, better, faster, stronger, are you not?”
“We have the same capacity for combat. He may know more about it, even with all the protocols I’ve uploaded along with the training and experiences I’ve had.”
“But you can match him?” Kodai asks as the aeros picks up speed. He feels the effects of gravity in his chest; the feeling subsides almost instantly. The smell of flowers meets his nostrils as a fresh floral fragrance is pumped into the air of the vehicle.
“I believe I can.”
“Good. Then you will crush him.” He grinds his fist into his free hand. And at that statement, the thought comes to him that he will thwart in his mother’s plan to use Hajime as a carrot on a stick for Ryuk.
Good, fuck her.
He remains silent, his thoughts on the future, as his vehicle nears the skyrise condo he calls home. Once they land, Kodai hardly pays attention to the pair of thugs in the lobby or the single bonsai tree on display as he follows Tesla to the elevator. As soon as they reach the top and they’re in his home, he slips into his house shoes and announces, “I need a nap.”
“Do you want a massage?”
Taken by surprise, Kodai turns to Tesla.
“You give massages?”
She tilts her head and offers him a soft smile. “I do, any type you’d like.”
Kodai gulps and slowly finds himself nodding his head. It’s been years since he had a massage, mostly because he doesn’t like people touching him, especially people he doesn’t trust.
And why do you trust her? he asks himself in his head.
With no answer, Kodai simply waves her into his bedroom.
After removing her boots, Tesla follows close behind him as he walks down a long hall to his bedroom at the very end.
The defining feature of Kodai’s bedroom is an eight by eight Rorschach ink blot above his bed. The black stain matches his sheets, also black and freshly pressed, which he has changed daily. The only other thing in his room is a sleek, gunmetal dresser across from his bed with an obligatory holoscreen above it.
“Take off your shirt,” Tesla tells him, “and lie down on your belly.”
Kodai removes his jacket, his thin black tie, and slowly unbuttons his dress shirt. He moves to the closet to hang everything, and once it is hung, he reenters the room in a white tank top. “Pants too?” he asks.
“Up to you.”
He returns from his closet moments later in a pair of boxers.
“Lie down on the bed.”
Kodai does as instructed, not sure why he’s following the humandroid’s commands but also not opposed to it. Once he’s good and comfortable with his head turned to the side, Tesla tells him to relax his arms and open them slightly.
He does so, and she quickly climbs onto his back, her thighs straddling his thighs.
Kodai feels an erection coming on and tries to will it away.
As Tesla kneads the muscles on his back, he focuses on her hands instead, noticing how much they feel like a human’s hands. Warm to the touch, soft, yet massaging his muscles firmly, Tesla keeps up her pace as a host of sensations wash over Kodai’s body.
“This is … great,” he mumbles, completely overcome by the experience. She seems to know every muscle to hit and the pressure necessary to stimulate it. Tesla moves down his spine, massaging around each bone and scratching her fingers down his back.
“You carry a lot of stress here,” she says, refocusing on his neck muscles.
“You’re right.”
“Your mother stresses you.”
“She does.”
Tesla laughs softly. “What will you do about it?”
Kodai opens one eye and tries to look back at her. “What do you mean?”
“Will she always control you?”
“No,” he subvocalizes. “I will be in control one day.”
And just saying that makes him feel petty for thinking of things in such a black and white way. Is it better to be controlled and powerful or be the one controlling those with power? Aren’t the outcomes similar, the chance for demise intertwined?
Tesla keeps massaging his back and Kodai gives in to her.
He relaxes more than he’s relaxed in years, putty in her hands. Minutes pass, minutes in which he is lost in the ocean of his past trying to focus on a single notion of what he is, what he is meant to be, why it matters, and how things may turn out.
His whirlwind of thoughts eventually leave, yet the feeling of euphoria remains. The urge to turn to Tesla and pull her into him waxes and wanes.
Kodai does his best to suppress it. The spark of something entirely alien to him looms on the horizon, to be visited at another time.
Chapter 22: FeeTwix “Turncoat” Fajer
The Mitherfickers are leveling up nicely, Ryuk thinks as he checks the team’s stats.
Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 18 Ballistics Mage
HP: 569/583
ATK: 112
MATK: 142
DEF: 88
MDF: 67
LUCK: 14
FeeTwix Fajer Level 20 Berserker Mystic
HP: 446/789
ATK: 161
MATK: 29
DEF: 85
MDF: 43
LUCK: 13
Hiccup Level 17 Shield Thief
HP: 800/814
ATK: 108
MATK: 16
DEF: 226
MDF: 103
LUCK: 28
Zaena Morozon Level 19 Brawler Assassin
HP: 619/735
ATK: 205
MATK: 9
DEF: 113
MDF: 43
LUCK: 14
Fat Tony’s Go Juice, or whatever the hell the stuff that boosted their EXP was called, is definitely worth its weight in rupees. Ryuk has leveled up twice, although he hasn’t learned any new skills. He has, however, moved to level two with both his Spit Fire and his Splash Back skills.
“Viewers are surging!” FeeTwix calls out, his voice echoing down a long corridor.
“Fick, Twixy, I think you just woke my
dead cousin Spew Gorge up.”
“I thought it was Spew George,” Zaena says.
Hiccup stops and considers this. “Yeah, it was George that died, not Gorge. Good catch, Liz. You may come in handy when I’m older and unable to properly clean my grundle or speak coherently.”
“Grundle?”
“I’ll tell you what it means when you’re older, Marbles.”
“Can we reach four million in the next five minutes?” FeeTwix asks the mirror in his hand. “I feel a boss battle coming on … Hey! Now that I have your attention, I wanted to remind all of you that Spider-Man Middle School Dance is out now! A prequel to Spider-Man Origins, which itself was a prequel to Spider-Man College Doob, an alternative universe Spidey flick about a stoner Peter Parker and his number one gal, Mary Jane. Heh, I liked that one! So be sure to catch Spider-Man Middle School Dance this weekend and get caught up on the backstory to the backstory!”
“The backstory to the backstory?” Ryuk shakes his head incredulously. “I can’t believe they’re doing another Spider-Man. I think the last one came out in 2074.”
“Yup,” FeeTwix says, “that was Spider-Man College Doob.”
“Why would a man want anything to do with a spider?” Zaena asks.
“Taste-wise, I’m more of a fuzzy caterpillar guy. Joking. Just ‘cause I’m a fickin’ goblin doesn’t mean I eat bugs. But I do eat fuzzy caterpillars. Because they are nutritious. Fick you, Liz, for judging me.”
“You’d like Spider-Gwen, Hiccup,” FeeTwix tells the goblin. “Definitely a babe. She was, how would you say in goblinese, a steaming sack of hotness?”
Hiccup grumbles. “The only goblin word I’ve told any of you about is drumpf, which means something that smells worse than shit. We don’t classify fickin’ sacks by their hotness. Now, coldness is another story, but not hotness.”
“Pretty sure Jatla is a steaming sack of coldness.”
“Cut Jatla a break, Marbles, and really, don’t quit your day job. You ain’t funny – Hey!”
Wolf barks and pushes past Hiccup.
“He senses something ahead,” FeeTwix says as his double-bladed sword materializes. Wolf barks again, more high-pitched this time, as if he’s scared.
“Let’s go!” Zaena charges ahead with her four blades drawn. She slides to a halt once she gets to the end of the tunnel.
“What is it?” Ryuk says as he catches up with her. “Whoa!”
His eyes take in an arena-sized chamber complete with stadium seating lit by at least a hundred torches, their fires burning green and yellow. Zaena and Ryuk are at the top of the stands looking down, and from what he can tell, there are dozens of entrances cut into the rockface.
To the north is a primitive skybox likely reserved for royalty, although Ryuk doesn’t know which royalty lived underground or why there are catacombs beneath Porthos to begin with. To the south is an elaborate door cut into a half-oval shape.
“It’s an underground arena!” says Zaena. “Most of these were destroyed eons ago.”
“Lemme see, lemme see.” Hiccup shoulders his way forward and stops dead in his tracks. “Yowza!” He brings his brass hand to his brow and searches the stadium floor for Wolf. “Where the fick did the mutt go?”
Wolf barks and comes running from the left, moving diagonally up the carved stone benches.
“Would you look at that,” FeeTwix says with a wide smile on his face as he takes in the arena. “That’s one thing I like about Tritania, you never know what you’ll discover!”
Zaena mumbles in Thulean as she takes the steps down to the center of the arena. She hops over a barrier, and stops to admire some of the nicks and slash marks in the stone. From there, her attention turns to the skeletons, all of which have been swept to the side of the battleground.
“Tons of loot,” she calls back to Hiccup, who practically rolls down the stairs in anticipation of treasure. He hits the barrier, scrabbles over it, and immediately goes to the skeletal bodies to check them for goods. Wolf follows after him and leaps over the barrier, landing gracefully.
“Why do I have the feeling things are about to heat up?” Ryuk asks as he and FeeTwix take the steps down.
“Because it’s a boss battle!” the Swede says, a smile on his face. “Everyone juice up!” He grabs a healing potion from his list, drinks half of it, and hands the bottle to Ryuk, who takes a small swig.
+70 HP!
“Potion time? Don’t have to tell me twice,” Hiccup says once Ryuk and FeeTwix are over the barrier. “All the loot is shit anyway.” He kicks an ax and it crumbles to dust. “Gimme, gimme, Marbles.”
“Hiccup,” Ryuk starts to say, “you’ve only lost fourteen HP … ”
“Gotta go with the good stuff, then.” The goblin equips a grenade-shaped bottle of Hopkins’ Healing Nostrums, guzzles it, and throws the bottle over his shoulder, where it pings against the skull of a fallen warrior. “I would have saved you some, Liz, but I needed to top off fickin’ the tank. No sense taking a gamble!”
“Someone say gamble?” A loud, syrupy voice echoes through the arena. “Shit, ‘cause you in the right place for that, if that’s what you lookin’ for.”
“Who the fick was that!?” Hiccup’s tomahawk appears in his hand. He scoots around, trying to find the source of the voice.
Smoky black liquid comes from all four corners of the arena, traveling along the top of the chamber and forming a bubbling mass in its center. Before Hiccup can shriek, the inky black shadow descends from the ceiling into the center of the arena and presents itself.
Ink Shadow Level 31
HP: 1121/1121
MANA: 316/316
ATK: 134
MATK: 320
DEF: 169
MDF: 235
LUCK: 26
“Fick no. No, no, no, no!” Hiccup starts to backpedal. “No more fickin’ ink shadows!” Wolf growls, drops to his haunches, and oddly enough, makes his way in front of Hiccup to separate the goblin from the ink shadow.
“No more ink shadows? The fuck you just say, cuz?” The lanky creature laughs. “Now who’d say something for real ignorant like that?”
“I’m not playing Natty Dread!”
“Natty fucking Dread?” The ink shadow’s face forms, long and angular, especially his chin, which extends outward like the end of a banana. He moves closer to the Mitherfickers, his wispy body slinking up and down.
“You heard me!”
“Shit, I ain’t ever been one to turn down a game of Natty Dread, especially from a goblin that I know will cut me a cool fitty … and then there’s my collection of fingernails and other assorted goblin parts. Always lookin’ to upgrade, you feel me? What you say, goblin, how about a game of Bet ya Penis?”
“Shit! I told you guys they were some fickin’ sickos! Blast his ass, Twixy! Zaena, attack! Go! Go! Go! Ryuk, shoot some marbles at him. Let me spell it out for you: up the ass! Zing him before he zings us!” Hiccup beats his tomahawk against his shield, doing his damndest to pump himself up.
“Damn, that’s one fiesty goblin you fools got.” A slimy black tongue drops from the ink shadow’s dark maw and he licks his lips.
“Relax, Hiccup,” FeeTwix says, “let me handle this.” The Swede steps forward, his chest puffed up. “First, hello, Mr. Ink Shadow, I notice you have a very peculiar accent.” His eyes flash as he reads more messages from his fans. “That’s who he sounds like, Snoop Dogg! I went to his holo-concert with Dr. Dre two years back. Snoop Doggy, dooooogg! Dude’s an icon. Four-twenty, everyone! How I could not place that accent?”
“Who is this Snoop Dogg?” Zaena asks.
“A hip-hop star, super famous, babe. He’s dead now, but his holo-concerts are crazy! Lots of ganja! I’ll take you next time he’s doing a Proxima World tour!”
“Hip-Hop?”
“Rap?” he asks.
“Rap?”
“A type of music. I played some earlier on my boombox before it, um, blew up.”
“What in the
fick are you going on about, Twixy!? Snoop Dogg? Who the fick is that? This is serious!”
“Right! Sorry, Hiccup. Ahem, Mr. Ink Shadow, we have important business to attend to in Porthos,” he says firmly. “Either step aside, or … ”
“Let us pass or else!” Ryuk says, pointing his Marble Gun at the ink shadow.
Hiccup goes from scared shitless to shitting his pants with laughter. The ink shadow joins him. “Fick me to tears, Marbles, you have got to step up your tough guy act.”
“Shut up!” Ryuk hisses over his shoulder, trying to silence the goblin’s laughter.
The ink shadow wipes inky tears of laughter from his cheeks. “Can’t say I disagree with the goblin, this fool really needs to step up his game. Shit’s straight pathetic, feel me, playa? Look at your raggedy ass.”
Hiccup shakes his head at Ryuk. “Oh, I feel you there. Fick, I’ve been trying to encourage ball droppage since I met the poor bastard.”
“Shut up!” Ryuk fires three shots at the ink shadow, who slinks out of the way just in time.
“Damn, boy, that’s how we gonna play?” The ink shadow pulls an arm back and swings it at Ryuk.
-100 HP!
Ryuk is tossed backwards into a pile of bones, almost as if his legs were lassoed from behind. Wolf growls and snaps his teeth.
“Boy, you ain’t faster than me,” the ink shadow says, his voice growing serious. “Aim your weapon again, fool, see if I don’t strip your soul from your body and use it as a goddamn wipe for my ass!”
The ink shadow’s visage moves from sinister to jovial. “Now where were we? A game of Natty Dread, huh? Nah, that ain’t my thing, man, I told you fools. Besides that, my Wheel of Dread is broken as fuck.” He thinks for a moment. “Don’t y’all worry, I got a game we can play, playas, your canine too.”
“So it’s a game you want then?” Zaena asks.
The ink shadow shrinks in form, disappears into the arena floor, and then lifts up from the ground directly in front of the Thulean. “The Thulean likes games, huh?”
“No, nor do I like pathetic pissants like you.”
“Fick yeah, Liz, tell that fickered fick twat!”
Fantasy Online Polynya Page 22
