by A. J. Markam
I only had twelve seconds left.
Ten feet away, Stig was still teleporting around Minionegger and harassing him with fireballs. He was doing a pretty damn good job of it, too.
“I guess the human got away. Go help Vrox,” Toothy ordered the Beast, apparently referring to Minionegger. “I’m gonna go get started plucking the bird.”
The Beast headed towards Stig. Toothy turned towards the angel, a vicious leer on his face.
“Keep away from me!” she shrieked as she backed up against the wall.
“Say your prayers, bitch,” the demon grinned.
Shit – I guess I HAVE to cast a spell.
I put out my right hand – and saw the faint outline of the beer stein’s glass handle still in my grasp.
No, I hadn’t realized I was still holding it. I was drunk, remember?
I stared at it. The upper part of the handle where it had broken off was exceptionally jagged and sharp.
Huh… this might make a good weapon…
Remember, I was drunk. The fact that a broken glass would make a good weapon would have been obvious to the average sober person much earlier.
Three seconds left on Invisibility.
I ran across the alley, got right between Toothy and the angel, and jabbed the glass handle straight into the demon’s left eye.
I came out of Invisibility as soon as the punch connected, but that didn’t matter. Toothy wasn’t going to be seeing much for a while.
“AAAAAAAH!” he screamed, and stumbled backward as he clutched at his face.
There was no blood, but damn if it wasn’t gruesome seeing the glass shard sticking out of his eye socket.
In reality the attack only shaved off 15% of his hit points, but it was the psychological damage of the attack that was really effective. He kept screaming and floundering around, completely out of commission.
The Beast turned around in utter shock, which gave me time to cast Doomsday on him and Minionegger. Then I cast Unholy Quartet.
Four imps appeared in bursts of smoke and began peppering Beast with fireballs. He roared in frustration and immediately began swiping at them. They didn’t have Stig’s teleportation talent, but they were nimble enough to (mostly) keep out of the way of his oversized claws.
While Beast was occupied, I Soul-Sucked the Minionegger. Stig had done an excellent job of whittling away the yellow demon’s hit points to 32%. Ten seconds of Soul Suck later, he was down to 17% – and then my second Doomsday spell kicked in.
Bye bye, Minionegger.
He screeched and fell down face-first on the ground as ‘500 XP’ shimmered above his corpse.
“Stig, go after the big hairy one!” I yelled.
Stig, bless his soul, leapt right in and started teleporting and slinging fireballs.
The Beast had already taken out three of the four imps in Unholy Quartet, but he’d suffered for it – not to mention my Doomsday spell had detonated on him, too. He was in the red and dropping fast.
You know what you get when you add Unholy Quartet plus Doomsday plus Stig plus Soul Suck?
Dead. That’s what you get.
Three seconds later, Big and Hairy slammed down face-first on the ground and ‘500 XP’ floated up through the air.
Two down, one to go.
I turned around to see what was going on with Toothy –
And got blasted clear across the alleyway.
The reptilian bastard was apparently the proud owner of a force beam power. He’d just been keeping it up his sleeve, waiting for the right moment.
I slammed into the white stone wall and hit the ground in pain.
Back down to 14% Damage.
Not ideal for a final confrontation.
I winced and looked up at the big lizard. While I’d been busy killing his buddies, Toothy had yanked the glass handle out of his socket. His formerly emerald eye was now blood red, though the other was still green.
His face looked like a black-colored traffic light missing the yellow circle in the middle.
“You’re going to pay for this, human,” he snarled.
I tried to brace against the wall to get to my feet, but my combination of drunkenness and low hit points made that a goddamn impossibility. So instead I quit halfway, slid back down on my ass, and prepared to cast a spell.
Unexpectedly, though, Toothy turned tail and ran away, out of the alleyway and into the night.
‘1000 XP’ floated up through the air.
Damsel no longer in distress, it seemed.
“Boss?” Stig asked.
“Let him go,” I groaned as I collapsed onto the ground and closed my eyes.
Just need to… rest…
Suddenly soft hands were touching my face, and the air was filled with the scent of roses.
I opened my eyes. The angel was crouched down beside me, her eyes full of sorrow and pity. I could see her expression because her features were dimly lit by the circle of golden light hovering above her head.
“Oh, you brave and noble soul!” she whispered, on the verge of tears. She had an elevated way of speaking that made her sound like she belonged in a Merchant Ivory film.
Brave and noble soul, huh?
That was a big step up from ‘lying son of a bitch.’
Then it got better.
She helped me sit up, then cradled my head on her soft, ample breasts.
As Matthew McConaughey might say, Alright, alright, alright.
Stig stood there in front of us looking bewildered. “Uh, boss…?”
“Shh, give me a minute,” I said, motioning him away.
“GET AWAY, FOUL DEMON!” the angel suddenly screamed.
Stig stumbled backwards in fright. If he’d had a poop-chute, I’m sure it would have emptied. I know mine almost did.
“CHILL, BITCH!” Stig croaked in a respectable impression of Samuel L. Jackson.
For a muppet, anyway. Especially a muppet who’d never seen Pulp Fiction before.
Where had he – ?
…oh yeah.
I guess my conversation with Robert the QC Warlock had rubbed off on him.
“What the fuck?!” I yelled as I pulled away from those heavenly titties. So sad to feel them go, but I was more outraged at how she was treating Stig. That, and the ringing in my ears.
“He is a demon!” she said vehemently.
“Yeah – he’s MY demon!”
“Uh, you freed me, boss,” Stig interjected.
I shot him a look. “You know what I mean.” Then I turned back to the angel. “And he helped save your ungrateful ass!”
She frowned, though more in a curious way than an angry one. “How can he be your demon?”
“Because I’m a Warlock,” I snapped as I struggled to my feet and dusted myself off.
You can’t really dust off dried vomit and beer stains, but whatever.
The angel stood up, too. I noted idly that she was nearly as tall as I was, just an inch or two shorter.
Alaria’s height, I thought forlornly.
When I looked at the angel, though, I saw something I’d never seen in a woman’s face before.
Awe.
“You are a Warlock?” she asked breathily, like Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday Mr. President.
“Uh… yeah,” I said, not quite sure why that particular piece of information had garnered such a big reaction.
She bit her lower lip. Her full, pink, soft lower lip.
God damn.
Despite my abject physical condition, I started to get a chubby.
Then I looked down at the bounteous cleavage peeking out from the top of her toga, and my chubby got a bit more rigid.
I felt a little guilty. Not about her being an angel – that ship had sailed – but that I was looking lustfully at someone other than Alaria.
Then I thought, Why the FUCK are you feeling GUILTY?!
Fuck that bitch! I’m a free man!
And if I played my cards right, I might be able to take advan
tage of that fact.
Apparently I didn’t need to play my cards at all, because she grabbed my arm and declared decisively, “We should return to my domicile.”
I was assuming that was Merchant-Ivory-ese for Let’s go back to my place.
Whoa.
“Okay… a little soon, but that’s cool…”
“What do you mean, ‘a little soon’?”
“Well, I mean, we barely know each other. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
She looked at me, puzzled. “You saved my life! I think that is enough!”
Daaaamn.
Women worked fast in Exardus.
Though I guess saving their lives helped speed up the process.
I mean, she must have really been impressed by the Warlock-and-rescue thing if she was willing to overlook the grody, nasty, puke-stained state I was in.
“You really want to sleep with me?” I asked, astounded.
Her eyes bugged out, her mouth dropped open, and she gave a dainty little exclamation. “Oh!”
Then – SLAP!
Right across my face.
“OW!” I yelled, then glared at her. “What the hell was that for?!”
“For propositioning me!” she fumed. “How dare you! I am a lady!”
“Then what were you inviting me back to your place for?!”
I wanted to add in bitch! but that seemed a bit excessive.
“To clean you up and get away from the demon! He could return with reinforcements at any moment!”
Oh yeah…
DUH.
“Um… okay,” I grumbled.
“We are not lying together carnally!”
‘Lying together carnally’?
Jesus, what had I bumped into – a walking, talking Book of Leviticus with great knockers?
“Fine, whatever,” I snapped. “Let’s just go before the demon gets back.”
She took my arm and we started walking towards the mouth of the alleyway. Stig started loping along beside us –
“NO!” the angel screamed. “YOU STAY HERE!”
Stig jumped back in fright again.
“What the fuck?!” I yelled angrily as I pulled away. This chick was going to burst my eardrums.
“CHILL THAT BITCH OUT!” Stig croaked. “TELL THAT BITCH TO CHILL!”
“Alright, alright, I’m handling it!” I shouted at him, then turned to her. “What the fuck is your problem?!”
“He is a demon!” she said again, as though that was all the explanation necessary.
“What, and you’re an angel, and angels and demons don’t mix?”
“Yes!”
“Well, he’s my best friend – ”
“Awww,” Stig murmured.
“ – and he saved you, so if you’re going to be an ungrateful bitch about it, then fuck off. We don’t need you.”
She frowned. “Could you please stop using so many swear words?”
I stared at her. “Are you serious?”
“Of course, or I would not have asked.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “We just saved your ass from getting raped, killed, and eaten, not necessarily in that order. And then you go and act like a bigot towards my friend, who helped save you from being raped, killed, and eaten? And all you care about is me using four-letter words? Well here’s another one for you: FUCK… YOU.”
“That’s seven letters,” the angel said, correcting me.
“What are you talk– OH, FUCK YOU!” I shouted again.
“You already said that,” Stig pointed out.
I looked at Stig like I was going to strangle him. “IT WAS FOR EMPHASIS.”
“I still cannot countenance having a demon in my abode,” the angel announced.
“Fine, then – like I said before, FUCK YOU. Come on, Stig, let’s go.”
Stig shook his head disapprovingly as we started down the alleyway. “Bitches be crazy.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “You can say that again.”
“Bitches be crazy.”
I sighed. “Not… no… it’s an expression.”
“Like ‘hold my beer’?”
“Yes, exactly – ”
We were interrupted by footsteps running up next to us.
“Alright,” the angel said huffily, “he can come with us… if he promises to behave. And if you stop using swear words.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Are you serious?!”
“Why do you keep asking me that? Yes, I am serious.”
“Jesus Christ…”
“Who is he?” the angel asked.
That was funny. An angel who didn’t know who Jesus was.
Sort of like an Apple Store employee not knowing who Steve Jobs was.
“Never mind,” I muttered.
I thought for a second about telling her to go fuck herself again. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to start altering my behavior for some bigoted, prissy, stuck-up bitch.
But then I realized that my bed for the last week had been the gutters of Exardus.
It might be nice to crash on a couch for a change.
Not to mention that having a gutter-ific, out-in-the-open bedroom would be a bad, bad way to guard against vindictive demon attacks.
“Fine… whatever,” I grumbled. “Let’s just go to your place.”
“No swear words?”
“Motherf– YES, NO SWEAR WORDS.”
She took my arm again and drew up close to my side.
“And no lying together carnally,” she added.
Oh my GOD.
I didn’t care if she looked like a 20-year-old Claudia Schiffer and smelled like a rose garden – she was annoying as fuck.
Although my arm being pressed up against the side of her rack wasn’t exactly a boner killer.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “None of that, either.”
And with that, we walked out of the alley and into the night.
14
We walked through deserted streets, our way lit by gaslight straight out of Victorian England, except the lamp posts were white instead of black.
As we walked, I paid closer attention to the angel’s appearance – especially her halo. Unlike the way angels are often depicted, with circles of gold hovering over their heads, this was more like a shimmering band of light, insubstantial and ephemeral. It looked like you could pass your fingers through it, like a ray of sunshine. The darkness all around us made it stand out even more.
The fact that it was dark made me think of something else.
“What were you doing out here in the middle of the night, anyway?” I asked, more to make conversation than anything else. The angel seemed content to walk in silence, but it felt weird to me.
Awkward, as Stig might say.
The angel shifted uneasily. “…it is a delicate matter.”
That was Merchant-Ivory-ese for It’s complicated.
“What’s so delicate about it?”
“I had to visit the temple of my god.”
I frowned. “What, can’t you go during the daytime?”
“No, I cannot.”
“Why, is it some sort of nighttime religion?”
“No.”
“Then why can’t you go during the daytime?”
“As I said, it is a delicate matter.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so.”
“I do not wish to talk about it,” she answered primly.
“Okay. Fine.”
We continued to walk on in silence.
“Awkward,” Stig whispered, and I agreed.
We passed through the city streets until we reached a highbrow neighborhood full of fountains and gleaming white high-rises. If Exardus was a marble version of Manhattan, we’d apparently just hit Park Avenue.
But because this was OtherWorld, every neighborhood had a graveyard so players could respawn close by. The cemetery here was just like the rest of the city: gleaming white and fancy. Massive stone obelisks soared over elaborate tombs with fl
uted pillars, and there were several life-size statues of angels carved out of white marble. They looked a little creepy with their blank, staring eyes.
“Hey, look, it’s your peeps,” I joked.
The angel frowned at me. “What are ‘peeps’?”
“People.” I pointed at the angel statues in the cemetery. “Your people.”
“Oh. Yes,” she said in a tone of voice as though I’d pointed at a Toyota and said ‘Hey, a car.’
Awkward.
I didn’t say anything after that.
We kept walking for another 300 feet, and then the angel stopped in front of a particularly luxurious-looking skyscraper made of white marble and gleaming glass. “Here we are.”
I stopped beside her. “‘Here we are’ what?”
“This is my domicile.”
“You live here?”
“Yes.”
From her casual tone of voice, she seemed totally unaware that in the Monopoly game of life, she lived on Boardwalk.
“…the whole building?!” I asked, stunned.
She giggled – a beautiful, delightful, boner-inducing sound. “No, of course not. Just the top floor.”
I craned my neck to see if I could spot the penthouse. I couldn’t. The damn building was at least 30 stories high, and the tallest in sight.
“Holy sh– ”
She shot me a death glare.
“Shitake,” I finished.
“What is ‘shitake’?”
“It’s a mushroom.”
“Mushrooms are not holy,” she said as she led me to the front door.
An orc in a tailored black suit opened the door for us. “Miss Meera,” he rumbled.
“Thank you, Jrak.”
The orc raised one eyebrow as he sneered at me and Stig. “Are these your… guests?”
“Yes.” Then she looked down at Stig. “Well, one of them is. The other I am merely tolerating.”
“Hey!” Stig snapped.
“Not cool,” I growled at her.
“Which one are you merely tolerating?” the orc asked, eyeing my crusty garments.
“Hey!” I snarled at the orc. “I’ll have you know I saved her life!”
“How? Did you knock them out with your stench?”
That triggered a particularly unpleasant flashback to the time I tussled with a skunk.
I was about to Soul Suck the big green bastard when Meera patted my hand. “I misspoke. They are both my guests.”
