Dubstep Succubus

by Aaron Siverling

  Then, any thoughts I had on the subject disintegrated when I actually paid attention to what she looked like.

  She was hot.

  Three inches shorter than my five foot ten, she had straight, waist length white blonde hair, creamy pale skin, big blue eyes, an angular, striking face and a body that was perfectly proportioned between slender and curvy.

  She was also an Aegis Light Elf.

  I thought back to what I remembered about Light Elves.

  It wasn't much.

  They were mega aligned with "good" magic and the description of their special ability went like:

  Light Elf:

  Inner Light: (Buff) (Passive) All Light Elves are naturally gifted in, and resistant to, Light Magic. This includes Fire Magic, as well as blessings (buffs) and restoration. For them, these magics are easier to learn, easier to cast and cost less energy.

  Which means, they can be massively overpowered within specific limitations.

  Her pointed ears were an extra three inches long and her sky blue eyes glowed with an inner light. She smelled like sunlight.

  Before I could ask how she could possibly smell like sunlight when I didn't even know what sunlight was supposed to smell like, she let out a shriek.

  “Love and Light! Your face!”

  I blinked, confused for a second before I remembered.

  “Oh, yes. Those things really do a number on you don't they? By the way I’m 24601-01. It's weird not being able to send a designation isn’t it? Don't worry about the lisping, my teeth are new fangled. I'm from Midian by the way.” I grinned despite the pain the expression caused.

  She looked me up and down, taking in my pointed ears, smooth black horns, my wolf yellow eyes, sharp claws and, of course my grinning fangs.

  “Of course you are,” she said, with a sigh. Then she frowned and I thought she might of tried sending me her own designation. Then she said, “I am 24112-04. I'm from Aegis.”

  I made a show of looking her up and down, taking in her gloriously fantastical elvishness.

  “Of course you are,” I said, with a smirk.

  Her eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?”

  She made a move as if to put her hands on her hips before remembering the stick she held. After an awkward second she lifted her chin and put her hands on her hips anyway, while holding the stick.

  I should probably mention that unlike Ms. Sunshine, I'm nothing special to look at. Thin and lanky, messy light brown curls, once green but now yellow eyes, a round face that was neither handsome nor ugly but would have probably gotten me carded until I was about two hundred.

  I was European descent with skin permanently tanned to professional surfer levels. Likely due to one or a few of my ancestors having dark complexions. I don't know the specifics because I never got around to taking a genealogy test.

  I basically looked the same as I had before being imprisoned in the Grey Hell. Except for the extra bits.

  “Do you have any combat skills?” I asked. “Other than ‘Stick Whacking’ I mean.”

  She glared at me. “I have a stick stabbing skill, too.”

  I looked at the stick and saw that it was indeed rather sharp.

  I took an extra step back. “I mean, do you have any defensive or attacking spells?”

  Her glare gave way to an embarrassed flush and she said, “On my world I was a priestess, a healer class they don't have here. Well, not the same kind of priestess, anyway. So I took the Restoration Mage class. I have a touch range regeneration spell called Minor Health Regeneration.”

  "Ah. I'm a Force Mage. I got Force Spike. It spikes things."

  "Uh huh." She didn't sound impressed.

  “Well, your healing spell may be useful in a party but out here it's, well, less useful than a big stick. But hey, at least you can heal my face…”

  She drew herself up and used her racial skill Haughty Gaze Of The Terminally Arrogant on me. “Well, in that case, I should probably save my mana for myself then.”

  “Hey! I selflessly ran towards danger in order to save you from those Whatsit face eaters! Heroically persevering in the face of… my face. And after saving you, I, the hero that I am, offer to let you level up your skill upon said face! And then you reject my face! And why are there so few synonyms for the word ‘Face’?!”

  During my mini rant she slowly positioned the pointy part of her stick between us and watched me like I was a crazy person.

  For some reason.

  Then she went silent for a few seconds before saying in a tentative tone, “Um, visage?”

  “What? Isn't that from Elder… oh wait. You said visage not vestige. Hmm...” I shook my head. "You know what? It's not important. And it's not ‘Mana’ here, it just magic. Check your book.”

  She slowly lowered her stick from 'I Face Stab You Now' position to 'I Maybe Face Stab You Later' position and asked, “Book? We get a book?”

  I shrugged. "Whatever people from Aegis call that thing that shows stats. In my world we have this...”

  I summoned my Soul Tome.

  When the black book unfolded itself into being it did so jerkily. Rapidly twitching and pulsing, almost like it was alive and growing at an unnatural pace. When it was fully formed the triangular, sharklike toothed edges separated. Its pages flopped open, spilling over the “teeth” like black multilayered tongues.

  The resulting look on the Elfs face was two parts fascination and one part disgust.

  I could understand her reaction. Soul Tomes look awesome.

  The Elf looked at the book for several long seconds before saying wearily, “Of course. I forgot you used those.”

  “Well, I showed you mine so…”

  She let out a delicate snort and, evidently deciding I wasn't a threat, she dropped her stick.

  Raising her arms, palms up, her skin simmered like a still pond reflecting a sunrise.

  Liquid light dripped off her, changing color as it pooled into an azure blue oval of energy. Glittering golden script flowed into spirals, bright silver filigree etched itself into being around the frame of the manifestation.

  “Of course.” I couldn't help but smile. "Can you even read that?”

  She lowered her arms, looking irritated. "I'm not illiterate.”

  “What language is it?”

  “Um, English. Are you literate?”

  “English? It looks like Elvish, or what I think Elvish would look like.” I held up my book for her to see. "What's mine look like?”

  She stepped closer, peered at its pages and said, “Like demonic chickens from Hell scratched through a Forsaken Shade’s flesh and let the innocent soul spill through.”

  I looked at her, then at the book, then back at her and said, “Coooool!”

  She rolled her eyes.

  I was about to ask about getting healed again when she reached out and gently placed a hand on my face.

  As she did, a golden glow and a spreading warmth washed away the stinging, throbbing pain I had been ignoring.

  The smell of sunlight and something I couldn't put a name to grew stronger and I had to fight the urge to sneeze.

  When she pulled her hand away I held up my own burnt hand and gave her a pleading look.

  Her smiled thinly, as if she were reluctant to do, but she healed my hand as well.

  “Ahhh, yes… much better. Thank you.”

  She stepped back. "Its nothing.”

  “Oh. Well gracias, then.”

  “... what?”

  “You know, because in English when someone says ‘Thank you’ you say, ‘You're welcome’ as in, you're welcoming the gratitude they're giving you.”

  She stared at me.

  “And in Spanish when someone says ‘Gracias’ you say ‘De nada’ which means ‘It's nothing’ as in, the effort I put into helping you was no problem for me.”

  She stared some more.

  “Sorry. No importante.”

  Awkward. Silent. Staring.

  Then the Elf as
ked, “Is everyone from Midian weird like you?"

  “Pshaw!” I pshawed, “Weird like me? Nah, I'm special weird. Most of them are normal weird. You know, the boring kind.”

  “Well that's... anyway. I'm headed for the closest thing that resembles civilization. Thanks for the save.”

  “Bye!” I said cheerfully, then a sudden thought struck me. “Hey, do you happen to know where the closest thing that resembles civilization actually is?”

  She stopped mid turn and I saw her close her eyes. Then she mumbled something before turning back to me.

  “Do you?” she asked.

  “Nope!” I said cheerfully. "But I have a heightened sense of smell to help guide me. That's how I found you. Well, that and the screaming. Okay, mostly the screaming but your smell helped!"

  “You found me by my smell?” she said incredulously.

  "Forest Elf." I pointed at myself. "Heightened Senses."

  She wrinkled her nose. “You've been smelling me?”

  “Yes. But in a non-creepy manner." I grinned toothily to reassure her and said, “You smell like sunlight and… stuff.”

  She did not look reassured so I tried again.

  “Well, it wasn't your weird body odor that let me find you. It was the smell of your blood. It turns out that the smell of blood is very attention grabbing to my race and why do you look even less reassured than you did before? I'm trying to reassure you and… why are you backing away from me?”

  She stopped backing away from me.

  I took a deep breath and said, "Can we start over?” I held my hands up and made sure not to smile. "Hello. I heard a scream, smelled blood and came as quick as I could to help. Would you like to travel with me to the closest village? If so, I will protect you as a temporary tank from Whatsits while you heal me.”

  “From… what?”

  “The Whatsits. You know, those burning smoky things with human teeth.”

  I still had my hands up in a "I'm unarmed! Don't fear me!" gesture, not moving and trying to look helpful.

  She studied me for a few moments before saying, "Your name."

  I blinked. "Huh?"

  "Your name. You could at least introduce yourself."

  "Oh! Right. Sorry." I smiled sheepishly and put my hands down. "I forgot we don't have name plates hanging over our heads here. My name is Ruin."

  The Elf, already pale skinned, went white and took several quick steps away from me.

  "Ruin! You're Ruin? The Ruin? Why are you here?"

  "I'm… um, the same reason you are?" I stepped forward and asked, Why - "

  "No! Get away from me!"

  She lunged forward and I automatically backed away but instead of attacking me, she grabbed the stick she had dropped and pointed it at me.

  "Whoa! Whoa! Relax!" I put my hands up again and she twitched at the movement. Making a few jabby motions at me as if in warning. So I calmly put my hands back down again and said, "Look. I'm not - "

  "I said get away!" She shrieked and stabbed her stick at my face.

  I was so surprised I didn't back away fast enough and the point stabbed me under the eye and right into the bone.

  "Gah! Ow! Why?! Ow! That stings!" I pressed a hand against the smoking wound and glared at her. "Why would you do that! Why is it always the face?!"

  She dropped the stick and pressed her hands over her mouth, eyes wide as she yelled in a frantic, if slightly muffled, voice. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I thought for sure you would dodge that! I didn't think you'd just stand there! Why would you just stand there?!"

  "I was surprised and confused!" I yelled back. "I'm still confused! What is your glitch?"

  Her wide eyed fear gave way to confusion. "I… I know who you are."

  “Yes! Because I told you!” I took a hand away from my face and said, "Okay, so I may have a bit of bad reputation. Maybe I distress people. That's not a face stabbing offense!"

  "I already said! That it was an accident!" And now she sounded angry.

  She, was angry at me? Really?

  I started to laugh but stopped as she flinched away from the sound.

  I sighed. "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. Reports of my grrr'ness," I made a motion that was half finger waggle and half cat scratch, "have been greatly exaggerated."

  She looked away, biting her lip as she asked, "Why do you do that? Laugh I mean. I saw a video of you at the Cross Creek breakout. And when you were getting beaten by Punishers when they rounded up the last of the Runaways. And a few other vids, too. In every one you were laughing and smiling, and doing it when nobody in their right mind would be."

  I was silent for a long moment before saying, "Heartache makes me smile. Pain makes me grin. Fear makes me laugh. Maybe my laughter is a weapon, my smile my armor. A way to keep the suffering at bay. Maybe to... hide my heart from those who delight in tearing such things apart? I don’t know. All I know is that it's safer to laugh than to cry. It's just… who I am."

  I shrugged, not having any other answer for her.

  She gave me a long, hard look. Then, taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and walked over to me.

  Looking slightly embarrassed she cautiously held her hand out for me to shake.

  “Thank you for helping me,” she said. "My name is Aeria. Would you like to group up and find some civilization?”

  She pronounced it Air Ree Ah. Not area.

  I grinned and shook her hand as I agreed, thinking that things were looking up. Now I just had to get used to talking with my new teeth. And for that I just needed lots and lots and lots of practice.

  ♦♦♦

  Divide The Conquered.

  Once a month, one of the four worlds earned a Rest Day. The winner was the world whose residents earned the most points.

  On the Rest Day every world gained access to the Arena. A randomly pre-generated world where you can find rare ingredients, hunt unusual creatures and fight in gladiator style matches.

  Those who did the most work, who were the most productive and made the least mistakes earned the most points for their world.

  Those who did the least work, were the least productive, who made mistakes or broke the rules lost points for their world.

  You could also earn points in the Arena by fighting. The better the fight, the more points you earned.

  The high earners were inevitably the people who could multitask the best. Those were the people who could compartmentalize the input they received from their body and from the game.

  Very few people in the last generation could of done the same as effectively as a Subadult.

  We were born into Augmented Reality.

  We walked down the street wearing virtual costumes with digital pets running around our feet. We typed, tapped and swiped through spiral keyboards while listening to music, sharing pictures, watching videos, playing games, reading chat streams and talking to each other in real time.

  Open overlays in common AR streams were mostly advertisements, signs, tagged reviews, digital public art or anything else an individual wanted to show in a public format.

  Even at its least cluttered an AR display typically had the time, date, various social media icons in one corner of your vision and text streams spinning at skimming speed in the other.

  Some had wearable tech which used gestures and voice commands but most of my generation had a neural lattice that added thought control.

  We used to have the world at our fingertips and those who created the Grey Hell used it against us.

  They put us in Chains and split us into different worlds. They used the Arena as a distraction and a single day of rest as a reward.

  Every aspect of the Grey Hell was targeted towards breaking us down, exploiting us, dividing us and controlling us.

  It worked.

  Chapter Four: I Have A Song In My Heart. And A Pocket Dimension Full Of Burning Eyeballs.

  “It's the end of the world as we know it!

  It's the end of the world as we know it!
>
  It's the end of the world as we know it!

  And I feel fiiiiine…”

  Aeria groaned. "Of all the songs you could of picked, why that song?”

  I stopped singing long enough to say, “Because it's funny, and it's been stuck in my head. Besides, you said you wished we had music.”

  “Well, pick something less… just pick something else,” she said irritably.

  “Something with a little more bounce in it?” I asked.

  “Yes. Please.”

  “It's a small world after all!”

  “I will stab you in the face,” the Elf intoned.

  Yikes. "Everyone's a critic.”

  We continued down the narrow dirt road in silence.

  The discovery of the road had been partly a lucky break and partly due to my new sense of smell.

  Aeria had continued to be wary of me, no matter how widely I smiled or how enthusiastically I laughed, so I'd ranged ahead, taking point while she followed behind.

  The immense amount of information I received from my olfactory sense was staggering. Literally. A few times a scent invaded my nostrils, assaulted my brain and sent me staggering.

  I had to cover my nose in self defense and retreat, crying tears for my dead and dying brain cells.

  The Aegis Elf, of course, laughed at me whenever this happened. She also snickered whenever I accidentally stabbed my tongue with my fangs.

  I resolved to find some sort of revenge on the sharp eared girl.

  When I got over the sensory overload I was eventually able to separate and sort the smells. I found that while many were simple, others were complex and layered.

  I really was like a puppy in a park, sniffing everything and anything with delighted curiosity.

  I found that Whatsits smelled a little like a dying campfire and overwhelmingly like rotting magic.

  Yes, magic has a smell and different types of magic had different types of scents.

  I had plenty of opportunities to learn this when we were attacked.

  I defended us, less than expertly I admit, and had to be healed a few times. Though I did eventually get the spell to work as intended.

  Since we didn't know how to form a party, I received all the experience for killing Whatsits but gave the Whatsit eyes to Aeria as compensation.