by M. K. Gibson
My underground lair provided the power, plumbing, and water. But the people gave the heart and soul that turned this land into a home and a community we all could be proud of. New life would blossom. Children. Organic, soil-grown fruits and vegetables. These people were the most courageous people I had ever known.
And they were bleeding me dry.
Besides the money issue, they never left the land. They stayed sequestered here. In some ways that was fine. But they needed employment in the city. They needed to realize that they were part of something larger. Like I had to.
Grimm and I walked towards the above-ground garage where his outrider was kept. Since my bike was destroyed, I was without wheels. We walked across the grounds, saying hi to folks and staying to the paths and walkways to avoid marked-off grow sites, when I sensed someone coming at me quickly.
Turning, I saw Vidar leading the way. He was followed by Taylor, the tall, scrawny hick mechanic I met during the attack on Midheim when I foolishly tried using my own internal energy to power the town’s shield generator. With Taylor was his son TJ, a miniature version of Taylor, down to the greasy overalls and attitude. Bringing up the rear was Vali. From the look on his face, he wanted to talk.
My own face read “Piss off, not now.”
“Salem!” Vali called for me. So much for my “piss off” face. I tried to walk away and pretend I hadn’t seen them coming.
“Might as well get it over with,” Grimm offered quietly. He was right, but I was in no mood for it.
As the quartet caught up, I squared myself and crossed my arms, then gave a quick wink to TJ. The boy nodded. I liked the kid; he was always messy and taking something apart.
As Vidar closed in first, he nodded to me. “Be nice.”
I grumbled and nodded back.
Vidar moved aside as his brother approached. Vali was almost as tall as Vidar but leaner, with athletic, toned muscle. The former town leader, now the town drunk. I could already smell the booze on him. Hell, it wasn’t even noon yet. Vali put his open hand out.
“Salem, I—I want to apologize. I feel partly to blame for what happened to you.”
I didn’t move. I stood there, arms still crossed, and looked at his open hand. “Partly to blame?”
I knew this was his mea culpa. It had to be hard considering he was a former Viking god. A small group of onlookers from the town began to form around us. Vidar growled a little. I heard Grimm behind me shift.
“Salem,” he said softly. A small warning.
Vali still had his hand out. “Come on, man. I’m sorry, OK? I know I’ve been drinking a little too much and I get a little rowdy. But who among us hasn’t? Eh?!” Vali called to the steadily growing crowd. Laughs and hoots of encouragements came from the people and Vali smiled.
I didn’t.
This wasn’t about me. This wasn’t about me getting hurt or Vali’s drinking. This was about a man who had become my friend and had lost his way. This was about his apathy. This was time for tough love.
I slapped his hand away. The crowd went quiet. The last time I slapped a god, it was Vidar, right after we met, and right afterward I had one of the hardest fights of my life.
“Sure you want to go this route, boy?” Vali threatened.
“Yup.”
“Your funeral,” Vali said, and he threw a fast overhand right. Well, fast for him. Godly angelic power aside, considering the booze in his system and my cyborg speed and perception, he was sloppy. Slow. Keeping my arms crossed, I moved out of the way and squared up, inclining my chin mockingly, inviting him to try again.
The crowd that had formed around us widened into a combat circle. Vali came in again in a complex attack of fist, feet, and elbows. I bobbed, weaved, and danced around him, lighting a smoke while I did.
“Some assassin,” I taunted. Vali’s face turned murderous. I was walking a fine line and I knew it. Vali rushed in, arms wide as if to take me down into a grapple ground-n-pound. I dropped my smoke, dove to right, twisted and lashed out with the heel of my right foot, tripping Vali, sending him down hard to the ground. I popped up, picked up my smoke and took a drag.
All those nights sharpening my skills in the fighting pits with Vidar were paying off. Bet Vidar never thought said skills would be used on his brother to make him look stupid in front of his people.
“All ya got, old man? Come on. Right here.” I pointed to my cheek. “You want to be a big man? Huh? Big ol’ drunk asshole who gets his friends hurt and damn near blown up? The leader who can’t get through the day without his mouth on a bottle? Come on, right HERE!” I yelled, tapping my left cheek, daring him to hit me.
Vali swung.
Summoning up some of his reserve energy, the faith and belief that those of the angelic lineage drew upon as a source of energy, he moved fast and hard. In a split second he was off his feet throwing a wild right cross at my left cheek with every intention of taking my head off.
Good thing for me I had Nicola Tesla tinkering on my cybernetics.
Gambling on my new shield tech, I concentrated on that spot of my body and braced myself. My head snapped to the side as I tried rolling with the punch. But a loud, wet crack could be heard as Vali’s hand broke on my shield. Vali screamed and dropped to his knees, holding his hand. I remained standing, smoking my cigarette. Taking the last puff, I flicked the butt away, activated the mass inducer in my right tech bracer to give it extra weight, and cracked him hard across the jaw, knocking his drunk ass out. I stood and addressed the crowd, who had gone silent.
“Listen up, people. Spread the word. I am sick of coddling you, wiping your asses, and giving you a free ride. This isn’t about just the money, although that is a factor. It’s about you all finding your purpose again. You need to find something that you can do and be proud of.”
“You brought us here!” I heard a voice yell from the crowd.
“Yeah! We didn’t want to come here!”
“We should have stayed in Midheim!”
I listened to them, not saying anything for a moment. I looked over at Vidar and I swear to god we had a “moment.” He nodded and addressed the crowd.
“Baron Salem is right,” Vidar announced, stunning the gathered crowd of people. “We’ve lost our way.”
“Midheim!” another voice called out. “Midheim forever!”
“No,” Vidar said solemnly. “Midheim is gone. Dead. Gone. Had we stayed, we would have all died. It would not have been glorious. It would not have been something the skalds would sing. We all would be corpses. Lying in the burnt husk and ruin that was once our home. But now we have a chance to make a new home. Right under the demons’ eyes we thrive. In the demons’ grasp, yet they cannot touch us. But we need to become more than what we are. We need to become the very thing we named our town. Löngutangar. The ‘Middle Finger’ to all of demonkind.”
I think that was the most I’d ever heard Vidar say.
Mumbling and half-heard voices rippled through the crowd.
“I cannot hear you. Speak loud or speak not at all!” Vidar roared over the crowd.
“Yes!” came a proud voice. Others joined in. Voices rose in pride. More joined in, yelling out their enthusiasm.
“But what will we do?” came a voice when the crowd died down.
Vidar snapped his head towards it, then looked at me. Reckon I needed to field that one.
“I don’t have a GODDAMN clue! But we’re going to figure it out, aren’t we? We’re humans, we have souls. We have creativity and inspiration if we just dig down deep and use it. So listen up. I have a thing to take care of in the city. So, I dunno, brainstorm or something while we’re gone. Merc group, farming, escort service, or freaking resurrect eBay, I don’t care. But come up with something fast. Otherwise the district is gonna drop a fire bomb on us and burn us alive. Questions?”
Surprisingly, there were none. Master orator am I.
Vidar hoisted his unconscious drunk brother up and over his shoulder and followed Grimm, Tayl
or, TJ, and me to the motor pool. I needed to get away from the crowd before they saw me puke. Because even with the shield, I was pretty sure Vidar’s punch had knocked me about two percent dumber.
After we cleared the ground and had some privacy, I gripped my jaw tightly. “Holy badger balls, Vali is strong.” I rubbed my cheek. The shield worked perfectly, but it didn’t protect me from raw kinetic force. Just like T’s gunshot to my chest. Impact is impact.
“New technomancy?” Vidar asked, and I nodded. “Effective. Better than your oration skills.”
“Oh, shut up. They got the message.”
When we reached the motor pool, I plopped down hard on the nearest steel chair while Grimm went and checked out his Outrider, inspecting his trunk for something I couldn’t see from this angle. Usually he kept a few auto-turrets in there. Once he had the trunk in order, he made sure the fusion power was good and ready to go.
I lit a smoke and felt a hard tap on my shoulder. I didn’t even bother looking up. I just handed the pack over to Vidar, who was looming above me. His smoking habit was beginning to get on my nerves. I wouldn’t care if he had his own, but these were mine. My inner only child never learned “sharing is caring.”
Old-world cigarettes were hard to come by. I had caches of them all over, one of the first things I began hoarding and keeping in stasis. It was how I first made my first small fortune, and how I picked my cover names over the years. But someday, even my vast supply would run dry, and I would be forced to switch to the synth-smokes for good.
Synth production could replicate almost anything. I had my own machine, which I’d acquired some time ago. I’d be damned if I was going to pay a single credit to SynthCorp if I didn’t have to.
Lucky for me, SynthCorp has surprisingly weak security systems and large cargo bays, big enough for someone to get in with a big-ass truck and drive away with one of their production machines. If some nefarious person were inclined, they could just take one. It would also help that said nefarious person had a friend who worked as a bishop and could push the Larceny Permit through.
From my seat I heard Vali groan as he was coming to.
“Salem, I am sorry for what happened,” the god croaked as he slowly sat up. “I’ll quit drinking, I swear.”
“I wish I could believe you, bud. Every addict says ‘Today is the day I turn over a new leaf.’ But I don’t think you mean it. I think it’s the booze talking in regrets.”
“I really am sorry. You have to believe me.”
“No, I don’t,” I said calmly. Grimm looked up from his prep work on the outrider and gave me a stern glare. I ignored him. Grimm and I differ in our approaches.
“Vali, that assassination attempt on me, when we were coming to Dante’s to drag your drunk ass out of there, was a message.”
“Message?”
“Yeah, from Maz.” I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, looking down and smoking my cigarette. “Apparently someone has put a hit out on me, and Maz authorized it because we are behind on our tithes. Maz told me that was his warning and there won’t be another. So, here it is. Either we, as a community, come up with a way to make some credits, or we all die. This community needs a leader.” I looked up, and I could tell the gravity of the situation was getting to Vali. Then his face turned sour.
“They have you,” Vali said scornfully. “Almighty Salem. Hero of the Last Battle of Midheim. They have turned to you now. I don’t feel their adoration anymore. I can’t draw upon their faith in me anymore. At least the troops believe in Vidar. Me? Nothing. They have no faith in me. Just pity.” Vali turned towards his brother, who just crossed his arms and smoked my cigarettes.
Angels and those from their lineage, like the mythological gods of old, drew their power from faith. Belief. The energy our souls give off granted them power. But when men gave up their faith for technology, the old gods withered, became as powerless as demons were in this new world. When the Norse brothers ran Midheim, the people believed in them again, and over time, their power returned. Until I moved them here and fucked that up.
“Boo-fucking-hoo,” I said, lighting another smoke. Vali looked pissed and I didn’t care. He got to his feet angrily and I stood up fast, kicking the steel folding chair away all 80s cop-movie bad-ass style. Which I admit, I always wanted to do.
We got nose to nose. Since he was half a foot taller than me, it wasn’t exactly even. “You want to go another round, bud, take a swing,” I growled at Vali while smoke billowed from my nose. “But I promise, your drunk Nordic ass will be back on the ground faster than you can say “gotterdammerung.’”
“Big hero. Threatening me. Stealing my role. Pushing me aside!” Vali half shouted, half cried. “I finally had purpose! After all these years. Ragnarok was a blessing for me!”
“Then fucking LEAD! DO SOMETHING!” I yelled back in his face. “I didn’t take anything from you. After getting here, you gave up. We made the decision to come here, remember?” I pointed to the group standing in the motor pool. “We made the choice to keep your people safe. Now here you are, with access to medicine, technology, food, and a proper goddamn toilet! I’m so sorry that you don’t have to scrape and scavenge in the wastelands for survival anymore. You’re welcome, asshole!”
Vali turned away and whispered, “No one asked you.”
I went to reach for him, to finish this fight, but Vidar grabbed me first.
“You’ve done enough. Go. Do what you need to,” Vidar rumbled. His normally dark eyes began turning gold, which meant that it wasn’t a request. It meant that the berserker was an ass-hair’s width away from going lunar. Going toe-to-toe with a ten-foot werewolf god was not something I wanted. So I backed down.
“Sure thing, big man. But you need to deal with this. You’ve seen this going on, same as me. Why haven’t you knocked some sense into him yet?”
Vidar visibly relaxed and shrugged. “Brothers.”
I nodded. I had no siblings to relate to. But I did know that we all eventually find ourselves in life, no matter how hard or painful the journey. Sometimes you learn that who you are is not who—or what—you thought you were. Sometimes, you see the monster you really are. But if you’re lucky, you catch a glimpse of the person you want to be and aim for that.
“You ready?” Grimm asked me, breaking the tension.
I nodded. I hopped into his outrider and caught eyes with Vidar, who looked at his sulking brother, then back to me, and nodded.
“Let’s go get my stuff back. Punch it, Chewie,” I said to Grimm.
He rolled his eyes. “I do not know where we are going.”
Oh. Yeah. That would be useful.
“Vault 47. Head towards Razor Bay, then turn north. I’ll guide you in after that.”
“Very well. But if you insist on pretending that you are Han Solo and I am Chewbacca, you would be wise to remember the adage ‘Let the Wookiee Win.’ Because . . . ?”
“Because they pull arms out of sockets when they lose. Yeah yeah yeah. Just drive, old man.”
“Graaaaaah!” Grimm gurgled his best Chewbacca impersonation and gunned the engine.
Chapter Six
A Scorching Case of Urban Herpes
The drive into the city from my land was visually jarring. Ars Goetia, the Central Kingdom of New Golgotha, was a massive technological city space full of skyscrapers, processing plants, mega-rail transports, and various districts, each with their own flavor and vice. It reminded me a little of Blade Runner and Coruscant from Star Wars. In order to accommodate the population, the city was built upwards, stacking itself in a mind-bending network of connections and overlapping platforms.
The supercity metropolis New Golgotha ranged from the former Boston down past the ruins of Washington, DC and into the former Norfolk, Virginia. The city had been built, torn down, and rebuilt during and following the two demon wars. The city hierarchy was simple: The poor and disenfranchised were lower and towards the walls or coast, while the rich were towards the center an
d at higher elevation.
The walls to the west, just beyond my land, sealed us off from the expanse of the wild and the giant Abominations that dwelt there—the dinosaur-sized hell beasts that rose along with the rest of Hell when God left and ensured Hell’s victory over mankind in the two wars.
But giant freaking monsters from the pit walking around and crapping everywhere aren’t exactly conducive to “civilized life” in a city. So our demonic leaders made the decision to kick their cousins out to live or die on their own in the wasteland, the open expanses outside the giant supercities. Some people chose to live there in the waste, away from civilization. Like the people of Midheim had.
Looming death from giant hungry monsters aside, it was quite pretty.
The relative unspoiled nature of my land was a reminder to me of how the world was before. I knew deep down it would never be that way again. But keeping my land pure, from becoming just another ugly technological, vertical, asymmetrical abortion—well, that meant everything to me. It meant the life I lived before would carry on, in some way. Or maybe I was just hanging on to the past.
The world was what it was now: a big bucket of suck.
I lit a smoke as Grimm steered the outrider in silence onto the ramp leading towards the mid-level interchange. I stared out the side of the outrider, lost in thought, watching the city blur by. At least at night the city was almost pretty. Cold darkness lit up by billions of lights. But during the gray November noonday, it was a scorching case of urban herpes. It was as ugly and off-putting as a twenty-credit hooker.
Shops had their daytime neon lights blazing on every level. Aforementioned hookers, male and female, demon and human, pimped their bodies. Holographic displays advertised the latest in cybernetic tech while others advertised open jobs at nearby factories or plants.
I watched as sick people stood in long lines at various clinics, waiting to be seen. All the clinics dealt in their own specialties. Health care was not a priority of the city. In fact, the ruling demon class didn’t care if you were sick at all. If you got sick, it was your responsibility to get well, get back to work, and keep the machine moving.
