Her right hand seemed to turn to liquid mercury before transforming into half a dozen undulating tendrils dripping caustic slime that scorched whatever chrome surfaces they caressed. “For memory of a love he would never get to experience himself, 269 walked away and never looked back. I told him he should flee while he had the chance, but he refused to listen. And the moment he returned to his ‘family,' for the crimes of becoming powerful, freethinking, and daring to ask questions, you bastards had him killed!"
Mitch’s eyes widened at the sight of her silvery tendrils whipping forth from her wrists, searing through metal like a blade through warm butter.
“Ah. I see you understand,” Sade said with a cold smile. “We’re called Plague Queens for a reason. Spores, dear Michaelmas, are the least of it. And some of us are deadlier, far deadlier than others.”
The inquisitor stumbled back as her deadly cords suddenly wrapped around the doctor, the man shrieking in horror as his flesh blackened wherever her tendrils had caressed his flesh. His entire body began to blister and rupture. Even his chrome ports began to pit and smoke, a horrid acrid stench now perfuming the air.
Sade released her prey and the doctor collapsed, writhing on the ground, shrieking with horror, tearing free the supporting flesh with his own desperate fingers before they too began to blacken and crumple before his cybernetic eyes.
The inquisitor stumbled back, terror writ across his features. Only then did he seem to collect himself, pinning Sade with his glittering eyes, giving a cold grunt of satisfaction when Sade stumbled back.
"Master yourself, Michaelmas! We are Highlords, and she is but a worm! Strike her with whips and daggers of the mind, and she will fall. They all will fall!”
Mitch jerked a nod, his Ego Whip lashing out with all his force and fury, holding nothing back as Sade paled and stumbled, a cold smile tugging the corners of his tightly pressed lips. "And now you see, bitch, what happens when one of you horrors dares to confront a Highlord directly!"
Then his heart skipped a beat when he felt the warm spray of arterial blood splash against him, seeing his death reflected from Sade’s eyes.
"Hey, bro, how’s it going?” said Symbiote 271, who had just popped in out of nowhere.
The inquisitor’s psionic scream sent Mitch stumbling back. He jerked his head around to see Mordillin writhing upon the ground, desperately trying to hold in spools of blue-gray intestines spurting from between his trembling fingers, thanks to the dwarven blade his brother had just plunged through the man’s back.
“Do you think that counted as a 6x damage multiplier?” John flashed an evil grin and Mitch couldn’t help but shudder, paling at the way John drew his oversized Kriegsmesser with such fluid ease, whirling it about with a speed and grace that was chilling to behold.
Mitch was speechless, as if trying to superimpose the idealistic lanky youth who had so looked up to him that he had spent so many endless summers with, to the powerfully built, lethal version of the brother now before him, gazing at Mitch with such a predatory smile.
Mitch’s blood ran cold when John suddenly winked. “Hold that thought.”
Wait, there’s no way he could… how did he move so fast?
Mitch’s thoughts raced as John’s wicked blade cleaved through the shrieking inquisitor’s neck faster than he could blink, the inquisitor’s final panicked scream becoming a desperate gulp for nonexistent air as John casually grasped Mordillin’s thick, coal-black hair before flipping his head into the vat of bubbling slime that served as home to Mordillin's own collection of decapitated victims, so many eyes blinking in torment, mouths gulping endless screams.
One could only wonder if the perpetually tormented skulls took some bleak comfort in seeing the architect of their agony now suffering alongside them.
Mitch’s legs lost all strength as John seemed to crackle and surge with dark energy. Something was shifting all around them. Mitch's stomach roiled as if he were now on high seas, or as if reality itself had suddenly lurched in directions hideous and strange.
John’s wicked smile grew. He turned to Sade, still looking a bit shaky, giving John a thumbs up. “Nice kill.”
John winked. "Thanks for the epic distraction. Sorry they struck before I was in position. And hey, it looks like I just claimed another province and leveled up my Bloodknight Champion class. How epic is that?”
Mitch’s eyes grew wide. “John… you’re actually a Contender?”
John gazed into Mitch’s eyes for long, terrible moments before he suddenly smiled.
Congratulations! You have pierced your brother’s defenses, and he doesn’t even realize it!
Psi-Tactics in effect! (Good thing you talked to dear old Dad, and know all the back doors to your father’s favorite toy!)
Mindreading in effect! (Mitch doesn’t yet realize you’ve been reading him for the last ten minutes! Careful, John, or you’ll actually start to pity this poor, broken bastard.)
Hunter’s Sense activated! You can smell your brother’s regret, and taste his wrath!
Psi-Sense activated! No sneak attacks for you!
John solemnly saluted his brother with his Elementium blade, actually stepping back and waiting as a panicked Mitch stumbled to his feet and readied blade and buckler while John passed Sade his Kriegsmesser, both of them now armed with ancient dwarven swords and Elementium bucklers held before them, instinctively adopting the stances they had once spent so many hours practicing together, what now seemed a lifetime before.
Mitch’s eyes widened, though he clenched his jaw, mastering his fear at last, flashing a rueful half-smile John remembered all too well.
“So, it looks like we’re finally fighting in earnest, little brother.”
John nodded. “It does.”
“I33?”
John smirked. “These Elementium shields are small enough for that manual to be useful, but the dwarven swords have no taper. I’m guessing the magics they used to enchant their blades don’t allow for it, so they are balanced like migration era cleaving blades.”
Mitch nodded. “True. So we synergize what we know from both systems.”
“Exactly.”
“To the death, little brother?”
“You cut my girl open and put my head in a fucking pain vat. How could it be otherwise?”
Mitch flashed a haunted smile. “I know, right? How fucked up is that? Alright, little bro. To the death it is, then. Oh, and John, for what it’s worth...”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you killed that bastard.” He glared down at the fishbowl-sized vat containing his father’s head, John having thoughtfully brought him along.
They shared an odd smile of mutual hate for the man who had so mastered and used both of them before charging forward simultaneously, leading with their shields, probing with their blades, each trying to control the center, reading shifts in balance and stance, looking for whatever edge would allow them to master the fight.
Psi-Tactic’s in effect! You have successfully read your brother’s bluff!
Dodging out of the way of the blade feinting for a wrapping blow before twisting mid-swing, lashing out for legs that had already pivoted, John’s own v-shaped pommel smacking into Mitch’s skull.
His brother lurched back on wobbly feet, John smirking, saluting him with the blade.
Mitch chuckled ruefully. “I thought I had you that time, brother. You’ve never been able to read me that well before.”
John’s smile grew. “-2 to all skill checks with concussion in effect yet?”
Mitch's bitter laughter rang throughout the laboratory. "Not quite yet, brother dearest. How about another round?" Then without a moment's pause, he charged forward, immediately shifting stance and strategy to the polar opposite of the more cautious system developed centuries later, Mitch's blade flashing through the air in a series of cross-cutting slashes and Mittelhau strikes, lashing out with his foot for John’s knee, surprised John was still standing when his boot slammed against
bone. Then he shifted back, shield leading, as if in preparation for John’s counter strike before abruptly slamming forward, banging shield against shield in order to wrap his blade around John’s back in a vicious V-snap that would crack his brother open like an egg before finishing him off with a draw cut, the humming dwarven blade sure to cleave John in half, even with his Elementium armor.
Find weakness skill check made!
Or such would have happened if John hadn’t somehow pivoted and twisted just out of reach, a stunned-looking Mitch’s confused stare turning to one of shock. A high pitched mew burst from his lips as 6 inches of inert dwarven blade pierced his abdomen, just an inch above his belly button.
It didn’t even matter that John had somehow missed both liver and kidneys. The pain Mitch felt was so intense, so excruciating, that his now inert blade dropped from his fingers as he crashed to his knees before toppling to his side with a wheezing gasp.
A tsking John gazed into his brother’s haunted eyes. Mitch’s desperate Ego Whip washed over and past his tightly held Invulnerable Mind ward like waves being sliced by the sharply angled prow of an ancient vessel of war.
Mitch’s eyes widened with stunned awe.
John shook his head, claiming his brother’s dwarven armaments. “Damn shame, Mitch. You had come so close, you know. You almost surprised me. But you know something? I kind of lost my ability to be surprised after waking to my own death at the hands of the brother I thought had my back!”
Even in the extremis of agony, Mitch had the grace to close his eyes in shame. “I wanted him to get away. I pled with him to flee immediately. But he thought he had control of the gate. The fool actually thought the house would be loyal to you two, after rescuing the entire staff from Highlord Rojan.”
John sighed bitterly. “I know. Father suspected Mitch 32’s escape had been aided by yourself. And he was going to punish you for that, like he always had before, no matter what blubbering bullshit he promised you before you fled. He even knew that you had purposely dampened the pain receptors on everyone you killed. To them it was just as confusing and terrifying and forgettable as a nightmare. And no more real than that. You had counted on their horror to wash away the fact that they were hardly feeling any pain at all. Everyone except me, brother dearest. But Father was no fool. He had every intention of making you feel every iota of pain you thought to spare your victims."
Mitch paled, grimacing, tears streaming down his cheeks, so awful was his pain. Pain of the heart and soul as well as the flesh. "I thought, I had hoped… but when I found out Father had killed him, that he hadn't even left the area… knowing what I would be required to do… I buried everything in anger. Cloaked myself in anger. So I wouldn't choke on despair.”
John gazed sadly at his mortally wounded brother. “So what happened? Mitch 32 was close to defecting, so you gave him a push to take the kids that fled with us to the base and escape?”
Mitch almost laughed, though a single chuckle turned to a tortured wheeze. “God, John, don’t you get it? That was years ago. Lucy, Emily, even Carl. They’ve all done this before. That’s why the magic comes so naturally to them. Their souls remember. They’re all clones, John. Just like you and me.”
John glared and spat. “And if you had just been strong enough, strong enough to stand up to Father even once! We could all be adventuring right now. Emily, Lucy, and Carl would still be alive. I’d still be an idealistic fool spared the horror of seeing my own family decapitating me, realizing how utterly contemptible they found my very existence! I would be spared the screams echoing through my skull even now!”
Mitch shuddered with shame. "I know. Only seeing that monster's head right here, before us, do I realize what a pathetic little puppet I've become. Had become dozens upon dozens of times over. And the few times, the all too few times I was able to resist… oh God, John. You thought an hour in the pain vat was bad? Imagine day after day after day, that damned Doctor Zeal carefully calibrating everything to make sure the pain was just horrific enough that I couldn't escape into madness. And once I was at the breaking point… far, far, impossibly far beyond the breaking point, a new me would suddenly be born, screaming, with every last memory of those horrific sessions forever blazed upon my soul."
He chuckled softly even as he wheezed with pain. “This, what you did to me, John? A merciful death I don’t deserve. Even as I writhe with pain… you’ll never be the monster Dad was. Never.”
John flashed a mirthless smile. "who says I'm not going to stick your head in with dear old dad, so you two can deafen each other with psychic screams for all eternity?
His brother’s eyes widened at that, genuine terror and despair aging and warping his otherwise pristine features.
John chuckled coldly. “To think, you idiot, you could have had it all. A naive brother that loved you. A stupid girlfriend who actually thought you adored her, and friends that just liked your style. All your fear of Father brought you is a lingering death here, in an inquisitor’s den, all hopes of the beautiful life you had left behind now forever out of reach. Too bad you’re going to die here, brother. You would have liked what I did to our old place, minus all the bodies, of course.”
He gave a sad shake of his head. “You could have been living in a territory tied to Faerie, right now. Who knows what wonders and adventures we all could have shared, playing the heroes of Arcadia, if you hadn’t betrayed me.”
He bent down and tapped his gasping brother’s head. Despairing eyes locked with his own. “And don’t think for a moment that I can’t read your thoughts. Your dying wish to be able to bring us all back and start fresh is a fool’s dream!”
Mitch paled when Sade handed John his vicious two-handed blade, too terrified even to scream with his mind.
John smirked, gently resting his killing blade upon his whimpering brother’s neck.
Before lifting the blade away.
“You know what? I think I’m going to wait. I’m going to let you savor absolute despair for awhile before finishing what I started with dear old dad.”
He flashed a bright smile at a bemused-looking Sade. “Shall we, love? Places to be and people to kill and all that. Hell, I got an entire council to get through before the night is done. So toodles, brother. See you soon to finish this off!”
With a final mocking chuckle and wave for the one surviving terrified-looking servant, John clasped Sade’s hand, and the pair left the retro-futuristic laboratory and made their way up the stairs past extravagant architecture, ornate furniture, and portraits that reminded John of 17th century European nobility as much as anything else.
John frowned. The luxurious noble's parlor he now found himself in was a jarring contrast to the massive downstairs laboratory with its flashing computer lights, countless bubbling vats and beakers, and the oversized fish tank-like affair chock full of bobbing heads. As far as John was concerned, the discordance just underscored how utterly insane and psychotic these Highlords truly were.
They wasted no more time, heading towards the entrance, John's exquisitely enhanced senses detecting neither hide nor hair of another living soul.
John smiled to catch sight of the gently rustling trees just a few yards away from the manor, stopped cold by Sade’s suddenly tight grip.
Intense obsidian eyes peered into his own. “I can’t help but note that it’s only the inquisitor’s head bobbing in that fish tank of a pain vat, not your brother’s.”
John shrugged. “Either way, he’s got six inches of Elementium sticking out of his belly.”
She arched her brow. “An Elementium blade that hadn't even been activated, relying on its edge alone to tear through. And you clearly missed anything vital. He wasn’t even leaking that much when we left." Her lips curved in a bemused smile. "A blade you were quite content to leave sticking inside of him, when you could have torn it free with a twist."
John shrugged. “I grabbed his blade, didn’t I?”
Sade nodded. “True. And you left a half-
million credit sword and shield you could have claimed as well. And I won't even go on about the fact that you left him in a doctor's laboratory, where regeneration vats and magical healing potions are sure to be found, potions Mitch would find far more useful than either of us. And what about that polite servant we left downstairs whom neither of us bothered killing? And don't think I missed all that crap about no hope of starting over."
She poked him in the belly.
John winced.
Her pokes were armor piercing.
"Admit it. Since he's the one who knows how to use the cloning vats best, you're halfway hoping he goes back home and does the things you said he'd never be able to do. Making his stupid dying wish a reality, as if any of us monsters could actually start over."
Her gaze grew soft as he frowned and looked away, her fingers gently tilting his head back with surprising strength. "What happens if he actually does bring a clone of you back, John? Plague Queens might be immune to the discordant resonances that come from multiple clones inhabiting the same planetary body, but you, dear lover, are not."
John shrugged. "I'm hoping it won't matter. I think, now that I'm aligned with Faerie, I'm, well, different from every other version of me. Maybe if he's lucky, that John will be spared the nightmare life all the rest of us suffered. Maybe... hell, maybe he can even be happy."
He winced under her probing gaze. "I’ll bet you think I'm being a complete and utter fool."
“It's okay," she said, squeezing his hand. "Mitch was a bastard, but not such a bastard that he didn't at least try to make your friends’ deaths seem no more real than a bad dream. At least to them. It was all a show for your father’s sake, so maybe this time around he wouldn’t put Mitch in a pain vat right alongside you. From what I can read from your mind right now, he was almost as much of a victim as we were."
John swallowed, cheeks flushing. Soft hands caressed his cheek, drawing his eyes to her own.
“I couldn’t bear to kill my own sisters either,” Sade said. “And if I could finesse a way we could all be happy-go-lucky girls again, free of all taint and exploring Jordia as adventurers, I’d embrace that dream in a heartbeat.”
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