by Sean Davies
Silvario shook her hand. “Tomorrow it is. We’d be more than willing to lend you all the support you need to help mop up the other problematic members of our races around the world afterwards.”
“Our patience is at an end with them.” Cherriesa’s voice was pure spite.
“You have yourself a deal,” Alice said. “But don’t think about screwing me over in the future. I have powers of my own, you know.”
Cherriesa smirked. “You come here wielding a spell-forged hammer, and you brag of your powers to us. Do you take us for weaklings and fools? No mere Book Wielder is a match for the Trinity of Old.”
Alice grinned as she made Silvario’s book drop out of the air. He looked slightly annoyed and tried levitating it back up again, but no matter what he tried or how hard he strained, the book remained on the ground. He tried to cast some simple spells from his hands. Alice could sense them in his mind and she forced them to fail.
“What is she doing?!” Cherriesa demanded.
“She’s cancelling out my powers,” Silvario gasped.
- - -
A distraction was what they asked for and a distraction is what they’ll get, Kitty Cat thought to herself. It was a hot early evening in south east Industria. The sun was setting, and she was having the time of her life.
“Boom!” she shouted as she sent a bolt of force magic into the front of a shop. It blew outwards, showering glass, dust, and debris out onto the road.
She carried on strolling down the road, shooting her assault rifle or spells at fleeing civilians, terrorising the fuck out of the town of ‘who-the-fuck-cares’. Werewolves and Vampires from her gang ‘the Anarchy’s Ascendants’ ran or leapt along the top of the buildings, jumping off to kill some people, throw some cars, or mangle some property, and then jumping back up again. She was currently having a little contest with the other Mages, Vampire Bloodmages, and Werewolf Shamans, to see how much devastation they could cause without levelling the whole town. A group of young attractive girls made a run for it, but a male Bloodmage violently ruptured their circulatory systems and they fell to the ground with blood gushing out of every orifice.
Kitty Cat cackled and called out, “What happened there? They turn you down, super stud?”
“Fuck you!” he shouted back.
“Yeah, you wish buddy!” She cackled and sent a fireball into another shop, and it went up in a towering inferno.
Somewhere across town, a small group of dark clouds spiralled together and zapped some surges of lightning down into the town. A huge explosion billowed into the air and the darks clouds dispersed as quickly as they had formed.
“Whoa – someone just took out the DVO petrol station!” one of Kat’s people shouted, and the rest of the gang hooted and cheered.
A Werewolf man in human form ran out into the road in front of them, his hands outstretched in a stop gesture. “What the fuck are you doing? The Inquisition or the Trinity will come!”
“That’s the point, stupid!” Kat snarled. “Now, you joining us?”
“Of course I’m not! What you’re doing is... is pure lunacy!” the Werewolf shouted back.
“Ah, shame,” Kat said sadly, and then shouted, “Someone take this wanker out please!”
A cloud of bats materialised into a female Vampire Nightclaw behind the Werewolf. “Gladly, Kitty Cat,” she said as she snapped his neck all the way around, before flying off in her bat swarm to cause more havoc.
“Thank you!” Kat shouted as she flew off. She could just about hear her phone over the sound of explosions, roaring flames, and screaming worthless humans. It was Kaine. “What do you want?” she asked rudely.
“The Inquisition are sending a few airships,” Kaine replied. “Put up a little bit of a fight, and then go lay low for a while. Hit up another town the other side of Industria when you feel like you’re in the clear.”
“Okay, got it. Bye-bye.” She hung up and passed the info onto her gang. They would take down at least one airship for good measure.
- - -
Winston had taken Veronica out for a nice meal at fancy restaurant just down the road from the Hotel Noir. He had chosen to wear a dark blue suit for the occasion, and Veronica dressed in a half classy, half slutty little black dress. He had hoped that the meal would cheer her up a bit, and as they dined on some of the finest cuisine in the Capital, she began to get back to her old self for a while.
He had told her about the Archmage and the plan to restore the world to its rightful state after he’d got back from the radio room, but by then, Lucius had already begun sending messages and calling the relevant high ranking gang members about Winston’s partnership and the plan. Veronica had not been best pleased on multiple accounts.
The first was obviously that she hadn’t been told first. The second was that the scheme sounded completely insane, and the third was her distrust of the Archmage. She had argued passionately with him and he had defended his actions, backing up each point reasonably and diplomatically. She finally gave in, admitting that to her strange senses it felt like he was walking down the right path, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Veronica had been civil with him since, and promised to support his decision to go along with the Archmage as long as he promised to be on guard, but she was obviously still very upset.
The news about Marissa Aluniana hadn’t helped matters either. They both knew that it was obviously Mortissa’s handy work, and the realisation that the death toll of innocents would only increase as the plan to merge the worlds continued hit them both quite hard.
She’d picked up a bit during the main course, mainly because of the amount of effort Winston had gone to make the evening perfect. All the courses were booked prior to their arrival and he had picked out all her favourite dishes. The staff topped up their glasses all night with expensive champagne without even asking first.
It was when a waitress brought over dessert that Veronica’s mood had picked up immensely. She had a slice of chocolate fudge cake with a big dollop of ice cream on one plate, and a very expensive looking diamond encrusted silver engagement ring resting on a white napkin on another. Her jaw dropped at the realisation of what Winston intended to do.
He walked up to her, picked the ring up off the napkin, and got down on one knee beside her in front of the whole restaurant.
“Veronica Hedgemoore,” he began. “I love you with all my heart, and no matter what fate has in store for us, I want to spend the future with you. Marry me.”
Veronica went bright red with embarrassment. “Yes, yes of course I will!”
He slipped the ring on her finger, got up, and kissed her passionately to the applause of the restaurants’ customers and staff.
“You are getting fucked so hard tonight, sweetie,” Veronica said loudly and carelessly. “But please don’t use my last name again. It’s embarrassing!”
“You won’t have to worry about that for much longer,” Winston smiled. “You’ll be Veronica Reynolds.”
She giggled and kissed him again.
They finished their meal and left the restaurant hand in hand, walking around the back of the building to Winston’s flashy white sports car.
Veronica grabbed Winston’s arse as he unlocked the car. “You are so going to get it, mister.”
A bullet slammed into the back of Winston’s head and ricocheted off in a flash of red magic. His ring of protection had saved his life, but he could feel its power waning. He pushed Veronica out of the way, who was still recovering from the shock of the initial gunshot, as another round from a tall building opposite them shot towards him. The large high calibre sniper round stopped inches from his face. He didn’t want it to hit him, so it didn’t. A second later, the bullet phased completely out of existence. Was this one of the abilities the Archmage had bestowed upon him?
Veronica snapped to her senses and got to her feet quickly, using her telekinetic powers to throw the silhouetted figure of the assassin off the
roof. The would-be assassin dropped his rifle, but quickly recovered and readied himself for a good landing. It was a Vampire Nightclaw, and falling unhindered was one of their skills.
Winston focused on the falling figure, and it landed ungracefully with a thud and a snap. A female voice screamed and moaned in the distance. Did he do that?
Winston’s attention was snapped away by a male Mage dressed in a pair of jeans and a grey hoodie walking out of the shadows. An untransformed female Werewolf leapt over a fence to join him, wearing the similar casual clothing, and finally the female Vampire Nightclaw from the rooftop came walking along. She was covered in mud, her inconspicuous clothing caked in her own blood, and her expression was that of pure hatred though her wounds had already healed completely.
“A Trinity hit squad,” Veronica said in an amused tone.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” the male Mage began. “You might get to keep your treacherous hides if you come with us.”
“Oh, please. We’re killing these little shits now, whatever the case,” the Vampire Nightclaw spat back.
“Get in the car, Winston,” Veronica said to him quietly. “Drive away and bring help.”
“No way, I’m not leaving you!” Winston said defiantly.
“Oh, how cute...” the Werewolf woman said. She started to grow hair all over her face and body, and swelled out of her clothes. It wasn’t long before she was a massive Brutebeast with a wide drooling jaw filled with vicious teeth.
The Mage tried hurling a spell towards the lovers, but Veronica deflected it. The Werewolf Brutebeast stormed towards them, claws outstretched and ready to eviscerate them, but Winston just glared at her. She kept running towards them as her transformation reversed, and soon she had to stop just short of the couple as she realised she was nothing more than an angry naked lady. As Veronica deflected more spells, Winston got out his lighter and struck it, manipulating the fire to engulf the baffled and now powerless Werewolf. She screamed and ran around wildly for what seemed like a lifetime before collapsing into a charred smouldering heap.
The Vampire Nightclaw had used the bedlam to disappear into the shadows. Veronica was engaged in flinging spells and deflecting them with the Mage, but Winston was ready for the Vampire’s stealth strike. The shadows materialised magically into the Nightclaw within striking distance of the couple. The Nightclaw had a sharp combat knife raised ready to lash out at Veronica, so Winston sent a blast of fire towards the assailant. She quickly back flipped out of harm’s way, but Veronica telekinetically launched a big metal dumpster in her direction. Winston used his strange newfound ability to make sure the Nightclaw’s powers would not be available as the heavy metal dumpster crushed her against the back wall of the restaurant. With an unpleasant squelch and a snap, the Vampire was killed and disintegrated into ash.
Winston looked at the Mage and could almost sense the spells that he was calling into his mind. Winston just chose for them not to work, and they didn’t. The Mage strained and struggled madly before a look of pure terror appeared on his face. He realised that he too was now powerless and raised his hands in surrender, trying to back off.
Veronica cruelly snapped his leg bones with her psychic powers, and he slumped to the ground screaming and begging for mercy. “You ruined my engagement night, you old prick!” she said, raising her hands and readying another spell to finish him off.
Winston held her back and spoke politely. “I’ve got this – and don’t worry, babe, we’ll make up for this little inconvenience when we get home.” He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the Mage’s forehead, and as the Mage pleaded softly for his life, Winston pulled the trigger.
- - -
The Governor wiped the sweat from his brow. He was back in his old office at the top of the World GOVT building in the Capital City, but it didn’t feel the same as it did before. With the help of the Shadow Circle he and the rest of the old staff, the ones that hadn’t been shot by the Inquisition, were back at work at their old posts. The Governor himself wasn’t really doing much, as they made all the decisions now. He just sat around waiting for new instructions from Lucius and Winston. He’d tried calling for one, both, or all three of his drop dead gorgeous ‘personal assistants’ for a bit of fun, but since his bout of hiding in the Hotel Noir he was having trouble getting it up, even for women of their calibre. He’d given up with sex now. It was embarrassing enough being overweight and on the job, let alone going floppy all the time too, so he just sat at his desk all alone in the silence, drinking far too much.
Sometimes he watched the city below, but even that had become a depressing scene as of late. ‘His’ MPK’s patrolled the streets regularly, equipped the walls with anti-air guns, and did the odd bit of fighting and killing with pro-Inquisition civilians. The whole place seemed darker than it was; or that might have been from all that he’d seen lately. He’d known about the Supernaturals for years, but he’d never known about them. It was late in the evening now anyway, and he couldn’t see much except the lights below and the stars above. He was getting tired but he didn’t want to leave. Being at the top of the building made him feel slightly more secure, but in his heart he knew he wasn’t safe anywhere now.
It was when the Shadow Circle were escorting him into the World GOVT building that he seen his first glimpse of the puppet people. The Shadow Circle Supernaturals and some MPK’s had the Inquisition captives at gunpoint, and were marching them into a ‘hole’ in reality. Standing beside the hole was Winston, and a big puppet man in a dirty black and white suit that reminded him far too much of his own self. The puppet man had tipped his dusty top hat to him and smiled with a golden toothed grin. The Governor shivered in fear as the Inquisition troops were dragged into the hole by more scary looking puppet-things. He never thought that he’d actually feel sympathy for the Inquisition until that moment.
He poured himself another glass of whiskey, and his hand was shaking so much that he had to focus hard to keep the liquor flowing into his glass and not onto the desk. He took a big gulp, and almost spat it back out as a suited member of the Shadow Circle let himself into his office. He had a big smile on his face and was carrying a big black rucksack in one of his hands.
“Hello, Mr Governor,” the man said.
“Yes, hello. What... what do you want?” the Governor stuttered.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I’m just here to deliver a few treats on behalf of the gang. You know, as a thank you for being a good sport in these difficult times.”
“Oh... okay...” the Governor stammered back, still wary of the man. Had his usefulness already worn out?
The man put the rucksack by the desk and knelt beside it. The Governor watched in silence as the man placed bottle after bottle of ridiculously expensive liquor in front of him, followed by cases filled with all varieties of cigarettes, cigars, and drugs. Finally, the man got up and placed a big unmarked glass bottle on the desk directly in front of him.
“Something for the nerves, Mr Governor. We’ve noticed that you’re having a hard time, and this should do just the trick.”
The Governor looked at the pure black water within. “I don’t suppose... it’s a bit embarrassing, but... would it help with getting it up? Like, down there,” he said, pointing to his crotch. “The stress has... taken its toll.”
The man smiled kindly. “Oh, definitely. It will take care of all your problems. You see, it’s a magical formula. Think of it as a cure for all ills.”
The Governor picked up the bottle, appreciated it for a moment, and then begun unscrewing the top. “Oh, really?”
“Just to warn you, it tastes really bad,” the man cautioned, “but make sure you drink it all up. It’s the only way it will work.”
The Governor looked down at the black liquid within the bottle. It smelt incredibly rank, so he pinched his nose shut with his fingers began downing the whole thing while the man from the Shadow Circle just smiled and watched.
The gang member was right; it did taste awful. If anything, it tasted like death.
- - -
After the attack, Winston and Veronica had indeed recovered their engagement night. The sex had been the perfect mixture of both love and passion and filthy kinkiness. As ever, she was half angel and half devil, or at least a good thirty percent angel and seventy percent horny devil, but it was just one of the many things he loved about Veronica. He was tremendously exhausted but he was unable to fall asleep.
His mind raced with thoughts of his strange new powers so he decided to have a flick through his book, and it showed him about negation magic and its applications. It also showed him about reality manipulation, which was how he’d stopped the bullet and made it disappear, but the knowledge was just too complex for his mind to grasp at the present. He tried going back to bed, tossing and turning for a bit, before finally giving up. He decided instead to visit the Gloom and see how they were faring with the impending merger. The Trinity’s bodged assassination had given him an idea.
Winston got dressed in some casual clothing, created a portal, and left reality, closing it behind him. He made his way down the unpleasant version of the Hotel Noir, giving Lanky a bar of chocolate when he reached the reception desk, and asked for Olex to take him to see the Mayor and Omniosis. The Alt happily phoned ahead on the reception’s old fashioned broken phone, and it wasn’t long before Winston was on his way.
As he ventured out into Gloom City on the back of his favoured Spidercar, he was shocked by the amount of Alt activity. They were everywhere, talking in groups or busy running errands, most of them armed with makeshift melee weapons ready for the merger. He recognised some clockwork modified Alternatives from Pollutia, all dressed in faded hi-vis vests, overalls, or dirty boiler suits, and most had gasmasks on too. They wielded a varying selection of glowing green brassy weaponry, both close combat and ranged. Tank versions of Spidercars stormed heavily down the roads with big cannons on their backs in place of a passenger section. Winston also noticed some Alts in blue military greatcoats and feathered hats marching along smartly, with flintlock rifles resting on their shoulders. He assumed that they were the Commodore’s men.
