by Lee Bond
Zorno knew himself. He was a drug addict, a failed soldier, a mostly failed criminal, and prone to fits of anger most luminous in nature.
But what he was not was entirely stupid. Dominic Breton was dangerous, and strong, and completely fucking insane, but there was a shot there, and it was something they had to take, even if it might mean all their deaths.
The gang leader rose shakily to his feet with old Mamie’s help. “What did you have in mind?”
Dom peeled off another wild smile. “Glad you asked, squire. Come, let us depart this place for somewhere less conspicuous. I shall tell thee a tale of wondrous science that should allow us to reshape all that we are, and of the other three who hunt the very same treasure. It’ll be a dangerous journey, aye, and I reckon we should swell our numbers, so when I’m done here, if anyone knows of other gaggles as are looking to become better than they were, speak loud and clear.”
The ex-Book Club Regular watched Zorno rescue his broken mace. That one was going to have to go, and in the most bloody way possible, wasn’t he just? Once they got another gaggle or two in the mix and there were enough of them to deal with the other three and whoever else came their way, poor old Zorno was going to go the way of all gearheads.
It was just going to take more effort to splash him properly, hey?
No matter.
Dom caught a flash of dried red stuff on his knuckles and he smiled.
He were up for the brutality of it all.
Weren’t he just?
An Accidental Crashing of Parties Yields a New Position in Life
Agnethea raised her hands and made a tut-tutting sound in a desperate bid to calm her captive audience, but it didn’t look like it were going to work as effectively as she’d rather hoped; one of the men in the crowd –a burly looking fellow for all his well-managed coif and fancy looking button down shirt- had taken it upon himself to ‘end all this foolishness once and for all’ and had managed only to get himself folded into a small ball and thrown against a far wall. She was being told by the quiet voice in her head that he were going to live and all would be well in a manner of days, a fact everyone in the room had to know, but …
It were the appearance of things.
The Queen of the Golemnic Nation –currently and thankfully a nation of one- raised her hands once more and stomped her feet loud and hard. The floor 'neath her dainty feet groaned loudly. The noise was enough to get their attention, and the crowd stopped panicking.
Agnethea smiled prettily. “Now, as I was saying before Master Bradshaw got it into his head to push a gentle woman as myself around in public, I am dreadfully sorry for literally crashing this party.”
Here, she indicated the gaping hole she’d torn into the roof of this grand ballroom, and the tables and chairs and everything else she’d more or less careened into like a falling meteorite.
She continued on, voice full of apologetic tones. “I am told that this is quite a special party, something called a … a sweet sixteen? That it is something that you Outsiders do for a young woman when she reaches the age of womanhood?”
“Y-yes.”
The voice in Agnethea’s mind whispered a name, and so the Arcadian noblewoman rounded on the young girl, smiling.
“Now, I can tell you with utter sincerity that my own sixteenth birthday is so far in the hoary past that I can scarcely recall it at all, but I do know that the flowering of a young girl into a young woman is something wondrous and special and does indeed deserve a party of the most amazing sort, and here I’ve gone and dropped right in from the sky above. Constance, I do greatly regret all of this, I truly and sincerely do.”
“I… it’s …” Constance didn’t know what to think or say or do. Her mother’s hand was clenched so tightly on her arm that she was going to have bruises, the cake –sixteen levels of delicious and aromatic scent-cake delivered from some solar system or something very far away and more expensive than was reasonable- was all over one of the walls, half her presents were destroyed, Malcolm MacTierney’s right arm and leg were broken when the slender woman with the long silver hair had crashed into him, Mister Bradshaw was badly injured, none of their calls were going out to the police or the security teams for the building and to make matters worse, that bitch Melissa Scranton could barely contain the look of gloating satisfaction that the party was ruined off her fat bitch pig face.
She was going to demand a do-over. That was what. A do-over, with twice as many of everything.
And to make certain that nothing like this ever happened again, they were going to do it somewhere with indestructible walls and ceilings.
“It most certainly is not all right.” Aurelia Hoopersmythe, Constance’s mother, rose from her chair, straightened her entirely disheveled dress and continued right on. “Who do you think you are, barging in here like this and causing all this kind of fuss? You’ve completely ruined …”
“I do believe,” Agnethea interrupted, bending down to scoop a glittering bauble free from a blob of cakey goodness, “that we already covered how dreadfully sorry about all this I am. Do try and keep up, Mistress Hoopersmythe, else we shall be here all day.” The diminutive woman cleaned the bauble up and saw with a bright smile that it was a diamond bracelet. She slipped it around her own wrist –eliciting a gasp of outrage from young Constance- and smiled prettily at it before continuing on. “And as to who I am, I am Agnethea deRois, late of Arcade City.”
“Impossible.”
This, from one of the men in the back. The voice in her head whispered the name, but Agnethea wasn’t arsed enough to remember, she was more interested in rooting around through all the presents and whatnot that young Constance was to’ve received. A few other men and women tossed their disbelief into the mix, forcing her to stop, an artfully gilded mirror in her hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, whether or not I come from Arcadia is a moot point.” Agnethea looked at her reflection in a small, pearlescent mirror with gilt edges, tsking quite sadly. “You know, prior to meeting my death, I had the most wondrous ebony hair. Now it’s gone all silver, and I can’t recall now if my hair was this color when I was a normal human girl and it’d gone black over eleven thousand years or if this is some kind of perverse fetish from Master N’Chalez. Even more distressing, I can’t tell if I like it or not, and if I choose nay over yay, if there’s aught I can do about it. You, Master Bradshaw, I should sit your arse back down there against the wall or I will do more than fold you into a ball and play hopscotch with you. There is a thing you are all missing out on, here, one that even a dullard from Arcadia would’ve noticed straight off. Can anyone guess what that might be?”
Constance raised a trembling hand. “You … you aren’t hurt. From … from the … from when you crashed.”
Agnethea clapped her hands, artfully managing to not drop the mirror, which she tucked into a bag when she was done. “I shall be taking that with me when I go. Constance my dear, you are a treat, yes you are. That,” she addressed the crowd overall, “is exactly right. I am not hurt from my collision through that roof, which I am told, is comprised mostly of steel-VII, which I do not care to know about, and ferrocrete, a thing that is also of extreme disinterest to me. I shot through it like a bullet through a barrel, and e’en though velocity may have gotten me through it more or less unscathed, hitting this here floor, which is tougher still, should’ve turned me into summat resembling a runny, thin gruel. And yet here I stand, positively radiant and healthy enough for all I’ve been through. Tell me, oh Constance, since you are a step above the elders in this room, where do you imagine I might’ve fallen from?”
Constance said nothing, merely flicked her eyes towards the hole in the ceiling, through which everyone in the hall could see the darkened Stack 17.
“Just so, just so.” Agnethea hoped that her friend Ariel Bishop was faring well under the powerless circumstances of her base; of all those Arcadians held by Outsiders, the Golem Queen couldn’t help but feel that she’d somehow managed t
o draw the long straw in being held by the courteous young girl.
Though she wished no ill will against the Elder Gearman, Agnethea certainly did hope that the younger, brasher Gearman and the sodding mess that was Mirabelle had fallen afoul of the worst sorts of things that could happen on the Outside before breaking free of their respective prisons, if for no other reason than she didn’t like either one of th…
“Oh, do stop trying!” Agnethea’s harsh voice cracked like a whip and the man attempting to place a call on some sort of handheld device flinched so violently that he dropped said device on the ground, where it cracked and belched a single plume of smoke. “I am further told that no calls from any device in this large and rather presumptuous room … no offence, young Constance, but really, it is more than you needed for such a gala, dearie … will never reach the outside. And with the situation occurring across the road, it will be rather a long time before anyone thinks to check the outlying areas for damages or troubles. I’m told that the elite on the top fifteen floors are currently occupying the majority of all neighboring emergency services in their understandable bid to be free of perdition 'ere the darkness floods all. Now would not be a good time to require major medical assistance, Donald Winberg.”
Aurelia Hoopersmyth had had it.
Between being lectured by a woman who’d literally fallen through their ceiling and watching her pick and choose through the host of gifts for her daughter and pocketing the best, this continual ‘I am told’ nonsense was getting on her last nerve and she wanted answers; if someone in this hall was responsible in some way for this whole disaster, if this was some kind of protracted robbery … she wouldn’t put it past some of Connie’s more outré friends.
“And just who,” Aurelia demanded, using the tone of voice she used on Connie whenever the girl was acting up, “is telling you all of these things? Who precisely is helping you keep us from calling for help? Is this nothing more than a robbery?”
Agnethea opened her mouth to hotly deny that she was a common thief but closed her lips almost immediately. She certainly couldn’t claim that she wasn’t taking things, as the delightful satchel –some sort of soft, gauzy ivory number with very pretty golden clasps- were near full to overflowing with jewelry and other bits and pieces that’d caught her fancy.
“Well now. This is somewhat embarrassing for me, now I think on it. Let me see now. I’ve been murderer, monster, butcher, fiend and then Queen. Most recently I was instrumental in a regicide, though mostly ‘gainst my will. Sort of. I am still quite hazy on how I feel about all of that. I reckon I shan’t know which side I’ll fall ‘til I meet the man again. And with The Dome down and a single Golem roaming the backlit alleyways and streets of Stack 17, one whom I most definitely shall separate head from shoulders, I suppose I am no longer Queen, neither. But thief?”
Agnethea caught the eyes of a few of the men and young boys spread hither and thither through the jumbled partygoers, as they were growin' all manner of surly once again. As much as she weren’t even remotely concerned about what they might do, she really would prefer to keep the mayhem down to a dull minimum. Each of those she locked eyes with settled down immediately, wild animals confronted by the top bitch.
She tapped her lips, mumbling the word ‘thief’ back and forth as she did so, roving the piles of gifts in search of anything else worth taking.
The word fell from her lips once more, and she nodded with abrupt decisiveness. “Aye, thief it is, and so I am. But in regards to your question, Aurelia of the ridiculous last name, no living thing in this room aids me, and none certainly allowed this to happen. ‘twas all happenstance. Throughout my long and long life, I’ve more or less fallen into a new career, though never with such … ah … specificity.”
“Then who on earth is your inside man?” Aurelia demanded, eliciting nods and grunts from the other captives.
Constance opened her mouth then shut it, opening it again at the kind insistence of Agnethea. “It’s not possible.”
“My dear girl,” Agnethea gave a little bow, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned both Inside and Out is that there is nowt in this Universe that is impossible. Why, the very man I seek refers to this vast madhouse as the Unreal Universe, and of all the impossible things I’ve witnessed ‘ere now, he himself is the most Unreal. Why, upon a time, he was transformed from man into giant robot! A great, clanking machine man tall as the tall …well, not in comparison to Outside, I suppose … but aye, a great maudlin machine man, roaming the countryside being quite depressing.”
“Connie, dear, what is it? Who is helping her?” Aurelia moved to stand beside her daughter.
“It’s … it’s the AI.” Constance said, unable to believe it. The woman … Agnethea … hadn’t used a single device since picking herself up off the floor and while there were cybernetic augments available on the black market that could allow someone to interface with an AI mind, there still remained the lengthy process of gaining physical access to the orb itself, which was also something that hadn't happened. “I don’t know how she’s doing it, but she’s … it’s … it’s talking to her. It has to be. And for whatever reason, it’s helping her.”
Agnethea curtseyed. “Just so. You are a wonder, Constance. Would you like to join my band of merry thieves? Well, I’ve not got one yet, but if I am to be Agnethea, Queen of Thieves, I shall require a band. Though your lifestyle is quite opulent and indulgent, one that will no doubt transform you in time into the very thing you loathe most in this world, you are quite intelligent and quick witted. There is always room for someone such as yourself by my side, and in a short time, I shall begin a grand adventure to secure the Most Important Thing on this planet.”
The offer caused much stirring and had more than a few of the young men in the crowd –all of whom no doubt considered themselves to be the one to pluck young Constance’s ripe flower- looked poised to leap into action should Agnethea do anything more than repeat her ridiculous proposal but it was Aurelia –no surprise to the Queen of Thieves- and her shrill voice that broke the silence once more.
“She’ll do nothing of the sort!”
Agnethea cast a wintry gaze down upon Aurelia. “Is there even a Master Ridiculous Last Name or is it just you, appearing in both roles, destined through time and space to be a terrible ruination upon your daughter? Allow me to be clear and precise for you, Aurelia: we each of us make our way through this world, and there does come a time when e’en a mother must cast her children loose into the world. I assure you, ‘neath my … what 'neath The Dome is an ‘Enforcer’?”
This word –more than anything else that’d happened, including a woman colliding into a table full of presents and an absurdly expensive cake- caused everyone to shuffle nervously from foot to foot. A distinct layer of panic rose up into the air, a definable odour of terror that Agnethea knew very well indeed.
“They’re … they …” Mind still riotous with adventurous images of the two of them sneaking across the Universe in some kind of grand adventure, Connie struggled to find the right words. She could feel all her friends willing her into silence, to just let the Enforcer whisk the madwoman away, but while this strange lady was … intimidating, it hardly seemed one of Trinity's most powerful soldiers would come for her; more likely, the all-powerful hand of the machine mind was being set against whatever was happening inside Stack 17’s darkened corridors. “They…”
“Why don’t you ask our AI?” Aurelia demanded snidely, face darkened with bitter vitriol.
“You truly are a despicable cunt, aren’t you?” Agnethea demanded icily as she walked over to a random spot on the wall, turning her back to the assembled audience as she did so. Over one shoulder, whilst she ran a hand across the unremarkable area, she reminded everyone to remain where they were else they found themselves bounced off the ceiling a few dozen times. “And I would ask the artificial mind, but it tells me there are some things it cannot broadcast across the, er, oh my, that is quite a mouthful, hey? This
thing called the quantum substrate. It cannot … should not … chatter such things across the open air lest this Enforcer person pick up on’t and come ‘round. From the manner in which you are all behaving, I warrant an Enforcer is someone to be both feared and admired.”
Bristling with radiant hostility over being called ‘cunt’, Aurelia Hoopersmyth suddenly reared up and lurched forward. Screeching like a lunatic, flailing her arms around in a manner resembling a young child deploying the fine art of fighting for the first time in her life, Aurelia got within striking distance, whereupon Agnethea simply reached out and grabbed her by the throat in a vise-like grip.
Continuing to run a hand over the flat space on the wall, Agnethea looked past the caterwauling loon and made eye contact with Connie, who had the decency to look aghast at her mother’s uncontrollable antics. “What say you, Mistress Constance? I could spare you a life of incessant haranguing and domineering demands with a simple flick of the wrist. Whatever diet your mother is on to have her look so thin and healthy has turned her in a thin thing of skin and bones. My friend tells me that there is no Master Hoopersmyth now, which, should your mother pass away here and now, would leave you in charge of a considerable fortune. Then you would be free to live your life howsoever you choose.”
Constance Hoopersmyth looked back and forth at her friends, her close family, at her mother, and let slip a secret little smile. “No, I’ll be fine. Daddy left me a trust fund Mommy knew nothing about. For when I turned sixteen. I have more money than she does now, and I plan on petitioning Trinity for the whole lot any day now.”
Aurelia wailed and started blubbering great huge tears.
“Ugh.” Agnethea tossed the woman off to one side, intentionally aiming her towards the remains of the huge cake for comic effect. The disconsolate matriarch of the ruined House of Hoopersmyth collided with the pile of sponge cake with a wet plop and lay there, refusing to move until the authorities arrived. Gentle sobbing could be hard through the thick layer of meringue.
