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Cyber Fables Archive: Chapters 5 ~ 10
🕑 Added 2024-07-05 20:34:03 +0000 UTCChapter 6
While Riley went to the back, Brant bombarded Artemvian with questions.
“So… that guy you captured the other day… you say he was a Werewolf?”
“Yup. Just a mutt though.” Artemvian answered, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Two possibilities. One is that a traveling Veritas Lycan, a True Werewolf, ended up biting someone. Since he’s a lone wolf and doesn't have a pack nor any interest in forming one, he leaves the guy behind. Voila, one kidnapping and murder once a month.”
“Especially with the lack of nature around here.” Artemvian said the last part wistfully and if Brant didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that Artemvian looked sad.
“What… exactly is a werewolf?”
“Depends who you ask. Some say they’re descendants of Ishtar’s jilted lover, the Shepherd whom she turned into a wolf out of boredom. Others trace it back to King Lycaon.” Artem put the sandwich down, slightly leaning forward. “It also depends on what you consider a Werewolf. Someone who can change at will regardless of the moon? Perhaps they can change at will only during the Full moon. Or maybe they have to change, regardless of what they want.”
Artem shook his head. “Then there are Skinwalkers, Awal… too many shapeshifters to blur the lines between a True Werewolf and what people think are Werewolves. Those things called newspapers and magazines have become a poison, muddling the pool with misinformation. Not enough diligent researchers in your generation, I tell you.”
Brant swallowed, feeling a sudden chill. “You didn’t tell me the second possibility?”
The mage’s eyes shone. “There’s a pack of Werewolves living right here in this City, a pack led by Veritas Lycan.”
Riley walked out of the door and Brant actually yelped. She shot him a look and shook her head.
“Brant, watch the store.” Riley turned, motioning to Artemvian. “You, follow me.”
“Yes, boss.”
Artemvian followed Riley past the double curtains next to the bar counter with the sign ‘Employees Only’. As they walked, he saw something like a storage room with boxes of liquor and other food stuff. At the end of the hallway were two sets of stairs, one leading up and one leading down. She led him towards the second floor.
“What’s down there?” Artemvian asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Medical Room. We do autopsies and first-aid treatment for our clients when they get injured, especially if it’s not something worth going to the hospital for.”
“I did not know you’re a physician.”
“I’m not. Brant is.”
“Potato-mage and Physician?” Artem quipped. “I believe I’m in love.”
“He’s straight.”
Artem deflated like a balloon pricked with a needle, stammering. “I’m also stra-, I was just making a-, never mind.”
At the top of the stairs was another hallway, with four doors. The decor around here was a bit different than the bar below. The faint fragrance of candles reached his nose, pleasant and mild, not too strong at all. The walls were a color of lavender and he saw that the doors were solid wood. Either Mahogany or Utile. Regardless, it was nice to see some real doors for once, not those lifeless boorish metallic things that the people of this world employed.
Riley let him into something set up like a meeting room. A small table sat in the middle –a coffee table, Artem believed– and soft leather couches were set up on either side. Without waiting for permission, Artemvian plopped himself down, feeling his weight sinking in.
He realized that these rooms served a purpose. Kind of a backroom where Riley could take her clients who required a bit more privacy, away from prying ears.
“Is this for… your more prominent clienteles?” Artemvian asked, his eyes twinkling. “I’m honored.”
“Save the honor for after you complete this request. Because if you fail, I’m pretty sure you’ll end up dead.” She sat opposite of him and slid him a tablet.
Artemvian took it and found that the screen was already filled with photos and words, outlining the request.
“This is an escort request. The requester is Lawrence Yu, one of the division commanders for the Hammerheads.”
The gray-haired mage flicked through the photos, finding an emblem composed of a hammerhead shark leaping out of the water.
“He wants you to escort this young lady to the East Shore Bay.” Riley folded her hands on her lap. “Her name is Kim.”
The next photo was of said young lady of eastern descent. She had an oval face with pointed lips, eyes almost too large for her face with green pupils tinged with pink. He saw that on either side of her cheeks were lines that lit up at certain points, almost rhythmically. Like her eyes, her hair was light green with pink highlights running through them.
The girl was pretty, in a sort of unnatural way. Not Artem’s type but he wasn’t being hired to seduce her.
He never got any fun jobs.
“Nooo, of course I don’t get a nice little undercover job where I fall in love and get married.” He muttered, mostly to himself. “Always monsters, daemons and hellfire-blasted devils-”
“Are you listening?”
“Ah, yes. Please continue.”
She shot him an annoyed look. “Intel suggests that another division commander of the Hammerheads wants to stop her from leaving the country. You’ll likely face resistance from members of the Hammerhead gang.”
“Definitely not a fun job.” Artem sighed, flicking across the pages.
“...”
Sensing that Riley was upset, angry, hungry, or annoyed (none of which was good news for Artem), he looked up and realized that it was none of those things.
She was worried.
“This job is dangerous.” She said, her tone empty of the brevity that Artemvian’s possessed. “I want you to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”
“Uh… but you’re the one giving me the job.”
“Yes.” Riley snapped, tucking a stray strand of white hair over her ear. “I realize that.”
“You… you haven’t been a broker very long, have you?” Artemvian asked.
Riley didn’t answer back.
He took that as a ‘yes’.
Which explains a lot. Most brokers would welcome a potential mercenary with open arms, but she had been guarded since their first meeting. She gave him a job, prefacing it with the fact that three other skilled mercenaries failed. Obviously she hadn’t meant for him to take the job, she had wanted to scare him off. Now, she was worried that she was sending him into danger.
She was young, much too young to be a broker and hadn’t gained the hardness of heart necessary to send men into their potential deaths, no matter how willing they were. But it wasn’t Artemvian’s job to make her feel better. If she meant to stay in the Broker business, she’d get better.
Or just burn out.
Artemvian shook his head, telling himself to not stick his nose into where it didn’t belong. “I’ll take the job.”
“Here.” She passed him a smaller version of the tablet, what Artemvian knew was a ‘phone’. “A burner phone. Meet the client at the location set in the phone by noon tomorrow. If there’s any problems, they’ll contact you.”
Taking the phone, Artemvian stood up. “Anything else?”
“Don’t forget our deal.” Riley was back to her usual self. All business. “You pull this off, and I’ll help you become a new person in this city. No questions asked.”
“I remember.” Artemvian answered, walking out and using one of his new favorite words. “Don’t fuck this up. Got it.”
***
The next day, Artemvian walked around Nero City trying his damndest to follow the GEEPEE-YES.
“More like Gee-Pee-No.” Giving up on the small device, he decided to ask for directions.
After receiving numerous disdainful looks, Artemvian finally found the place he was looking for, a nondescript corner. Artemvian took out a bag of potato chips that he had bought, content to wait for his clients. He had taken a total of two blissful bites when one of those white ‘cars’ came screeching down the corner. The rear door opened to reveal a young man with sunglasses like his own, dressed in a black and white suit.
And he had a gun pointed right at Artemvian.
“Get in.” He said.
Artemvian paused with a potato chip in his hand, midway towards his mouth which was comically wide open.
Then, mustering all his years of experience as a mercenary and assassin-mage, who dealt with daemons and rogues on a daily basis, he replied, “Wha?”
“I said-”
“Chang, please. Stop.”
Artem took that moment to pop the potato chip in his mouth, letting a loud crunch escape. He noticed that the woman’s voice was heavily accented; she was obviously bilingual and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was someone of Eastern Origin. Most likely, this was her second language. The woman in question leaned out of the car, revealing her face.
Pink highlights mixed with neon green.
“Ah, Kim!” Artemvian smiled.
Then holding the chips out, he asked “Potato Chip?”
Chapter 7
“Ah, Kim!” Artemvian smiled.
Then holding the chips out, he asked “Potato Chip?”
“Keep your voice down.” Chang hissed.
“Mr. Delacreu, there isn’t much time. Would you please accompany us in the car?”
“That’s why I get paid with the fat coin purses.”
Artemvian got in the white car, realizing that the interior of the car was set up like a room. In an instant, he identified what was a ‘fridge’, except miniaturized. There were seats on either side so that the riders could talk to each other; a small sliding that they used in prison kept the driver separated from their conversation. While Artemvian was admiring the interior of the car, Chang and Kim began to argue as they moved.
“He’s useless. I pointed a gun at him point blank and he couldn’t react. Boss got scammed by that woman. Once this is over-”
“It’s too early to make judgements, Chang.” Kim soothed –whom Artemvian assumed was Kim’s guard– Chang. “Mr. Delacreu. Do you know what this job entails?”
Artemvian wasn’t listening. He was looking out the window.
“This thing is fast.” He whispered, amazed by the scenery blurring into wavy lines of color.
Chang rushed across the seat, grabbing Artem by the collar in both fists. “You listen here-”
Except Artemvian flicked a hand dismissively towards the young man and an invisible force of air slammed him into his seat.
“Oof!” Chang crashed into his seat with enough force to knock the wind out of him and out of pure reflex attempted to take out his gun.
Artemvian stopped looking out the window and looked at Chang.
Just looked.
“Point that gun at me again, young man.” Artemvian’s voice was low and laden with a presence that seemed to reverberate throughout the back of the limo.
Chang paused, something at the back of his head screaming that he was in danger.
Kim sucked in a breath, usually when someone said something like that, they followed it up with a threat and promise. If Artemvian threatened Chang as stressed as he was right now, she wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t follow it up with violence.
But Artemvian surprised both of them.
It hadn’t been a threat.
But a dare.
“Do it.” Artemvian’s eyes were calm.
One moment he had been just a plain normal man, salt-and-pepper hair with dark brown eyes. Completely unnoticeable. Now, Chang couldn’t notice anything else but Artemvian.
“I-”
Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t normal.
“Mr. Delacreu. Please forgive Chang. He’s been on edge the last couple of days.” Folding her hands in her lap, Kim bowed at the waist. “I sincerely apologize on my subordinate’s behalf.”
Artemvian turned his gaze to Kim and abruptly the suffocating presence was gone. “Not at all. And yes, I was briefed by Riley who did a superb job. I do hope you’ll smash that like and subscribe button for her.”
Kim and Chang shared a look with each other, confused by Artem’s random injection of lines that an online streamer would say.
“You’ll be safe with me. Though at the speed this thing is traveling, I’m afraid I won’t have much to do.” As soon as he said it, Artemvian mockingly covered his mouth with both his hands.
“W-What?” Kim looked around, her mind unable to keep up with the quirky mercenary. If it wasn’t for the casual display of power that Artemvian showed against Chang just now, she’d also think that Riley scammed them.
“Blasted Hellfire, I just jinxed us.” Artemvian looked out the window, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.
Frowning, Chang did the same but he noticed something that Artemvian –who wasn’t from this era– couldn’t notice. They were being trailed by four cars, belonging to the Hammerheads.
“Fuck! We’re being followed! I thought we lost them!” Chang took his gun out. Reaching over, being extra careful not to threaten Artemvian in any way, he banged his fist on the driver’s side. “Step on it! We’re being followed!”
“Whoa, this is new.” Artemvian laughed as the car began to swerve left and right, slipping past other cars.
Then the explosions and shootings began.
“Shit!” Chang grabbed Kim and shielded her with his body as an explosion rocked the car.
Artemvian had half a second of vertigo, the bottom of his stomach dropping in freefall before everything became subject to gravity, crashing down with nearly four tons of metal.
Kim screamed.
“Aren’t you an Aeromancer? Do something!” Chang yelled at him.
“...” Artemvian was silent.
“M-Mr. Delacreu?” There was a momentary break in the explosions and shootings as their limo gained speed, weaving through traffic in such a way that the other cars couldn’t keep up.
Chang frowned. “Hey, Mercenary. Are you alright? You look… blue.”
Artemvian glared up at Kim, his client and Chang, her bodyguard.
The two stiffened.
Then Artemvian groaned, grabbing his stomach. “Ugh… I don’t feel so good.”
“He’s fucking carsick…” Chang was in utter disbelief. All sign of the power that the man displayed was gone and the tiniest bit of respect that Chang was building was no more.
Brrrrrrrmmmmm
Brrrrrmmmmmrrrmmmmmm
Men on motorcycles began surrounding the limo.
One of them pulled up next to the limo, gun aimed at Kim.
Annoyed, Artemvian pointed a finger at the man. “Separate.” He hissed.
Like a rubiks cube coming apart into individual pieces, or a jig-saw puzzle that fell to the ground and losing its form into the tiny parts that made up the whole, the gun in the man’s hand fell apart; falling to the ground.
Then Artemvian let loose.
His index finger glowing blue, Artemvian drew a circle in the air made completely of mana. He fixed his gaze on another biker, this time coming towards his side of the window. The explosions that were still happening outside made it difficult to concentrate but Artemvian finished the spell in his mind, holding the imagery of what he wanted to happen perfectly still in his head.
“Separate. Separate.” He whispered, then breathed on the circle.
“Separate.”
The last word rang out and the spell circle became translucent, disappearing from view. But Artemvian could still sense his spell circle. It buzzed with power against his senses as it expanded; growing to form an invisible dome around the limo. The dome couldn’t be seen by anyone and for all those that he had left out of the spell, they’d be oblivious.
Except the bikers.
As soon as they came inside the dome and held up a gun, their guns fell apart.
Kim was staring at him. “Wh-What? How’d you do that?”
Artemvian’s stare was flat as he waggled his fingers. “Magic.”
Chang hadn’t seen what Artemvian did, he was busy looking at a screen that showed them what was firing the explosions at them. “There.” He muttered, pointing a finger at the screen. “They have a Freak with them.”
Artemvian leaned over, staring at the screen. Standing halfway out of the roof of one of the cars was a young man, his unruly red hair running wild in the wind. The youngster put his palms together and concentrated and a moment later, a ball of fire shot out of his hands, followed by the sound of another explosion. The limo driver banked hard and they dodged it by a hair.
“Fuck! I can’t believe they’re sending a Freak after us!” Chang cried out, frustrated.
Artemvian couldn’t help but ask. “What are Freaks?”
Chang looked at him like he was stupid. “What are Freaks?” He pointed at the screen. “That’s a Freak! And eventually he’s going to hit us! Unless you can do something, we’re all dead!”
He looked to the screen again, studying the red-haired man. With careful deliberation, Artemvian closed one eye, the other fixed on the screen.
“What are you doing?” Chang loaded his gun, scooting over to the window. The young man was obviously agitated about how helpless he was in this situation.
“Looking.”
Then his Other Eye opened up on top of the Limo.
To those with the ability to look at Mana, they’d see what looked like an eye that opened up in the air. To those without Mana Sight nor Mana Sense, they’d see nothing. With his Other Eye, Artemvian studied the man who was throwing the fireballs at them.
His hair wasn’t just unruly.
It was made of Flames.
“...Not in a contract with an Ifreet. Is he descended from one?” Artemvian spoke to himself, uncaring that Kim and Chang were listening to him.
Deciding that Sight wasn’t enough, Artemvian closed his Other Eye. Then, he sent out a concentrated pulse of Mana at the young man. It was an extremely crude and crass way of checking someone, no subtlety. But right now, the ‘Freak’ was an enemy who was flinging fire at them and causing Artemvian’s car sickness.
The sensation of checking someone with his Mana was always a delicate procedure, like doing surgery. But with his impatience getting the best of him, Artemvian did the metaphorical equivalent of grabbing a bug in his hands and poking around with his finger, turning it this way and that.
It hadn’t even taken one second.
“He’s… part Ifreet. But extremely faint… almost non-existent.” Artemvian looked at the screen, his attention fixated on the Ifreet descendant. He chewed on his bottom lip. “Werewolves and Ifreet… ”
In the screen, the ‘Freak’ was unconscious, his eyes rolling back and vomit dribbling down the corner of his lips onto his shirt, plus a wide-spread burst of vomit that stained the roof of the car. Hands quickly grabbed him and pulled him inside.
All Artemvian did was manhandle him… just a little. Not even a lot. It could even be taken as a firm handshake back where he came from among rival mages.
He found Chang and Kim with their mouths open in shock.
Artemvian shrugged.
“Oops.”
Chapter 8
The limo cruised peacefully.
“So a Freak is someone who is born with a special ability? Like the one we saw before.”
“Yes. There are also Freaks who can turn invisible, or those that can turn into beasts.” Kim explained. “They’re called Freaks because they look different from us.”
Artemvian nodded. “So Freaks are probably descendants of either Spirits of Mythic Creatures… maybe even more that I don’t know about.”
Chang made a face at Artem’s mention of Spirits again.
“It’s not a fairytale, Mr. Delacreu. They’re real people who had a special gene within them awakened at birth. They call this the ‘Freak’ gene that awakens in about 10% of the population. There are even entire families that work to preserve the ‘Freak’ gene.”
“Uh huh. I got it.” Artemvian’s tone implied he did not understand at all. “The Specials, they’re the same thing except they don’t look different?”
“Bingo.” Chang answered.
“Talk about judging someone by their looks.” The gray-haired man complained. “Tell me about the types of Mages again, if you please.”
“There are Elementalists, mages who specialize in controlling fire, water, lightning… those things. Biomancers, who use their magic to control the very forces of life itself. Mentalists who read thoughts and can change people’s emotions. Spatials that use portal magic, though I heard Spatial Mages are near nonexistent now. Then the outliers, those whose magic doesn't fit into any of the four categories.”
“What about someone who’s mastered all of those?”
“Impossible.” It was Chang who chimed in. “People’s Mana Signatures are decided at birth, if they even have enough talent to be a mage. They can’t just suddenly decide to become a Biomancer when their Mana is already attuned to being an Empath. There are the rare few who display talent in more than one area, but you have better luck being hit by lightning.”
Artemvian held himself back from striking Chang with lightning just to prove a point.
The magic in this world was… weak, to say the least.
If Mages were born with an innate talent and attunement for one specific area, that would severely limit them in their scholarly pursuits as well as what they could achieve as a Mage. If these two were to be believed, then there should be a reason why Mages were being this way. Back where Artemvian came from, Mages were rare, yes, but they weren’t limited in what area they could pursue. They could do anything with their mana, anything.
Sure, someone might feel more comfortable using Fire spells versus Portal spells, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t use portal spells altogether.
“It could be that the Magic in this world started out similar, that Mages innately contained Pure Mana. However, something must’ve happened where people with similar talents started marrying people with similar talents. Then over thousands of years, they could lose the ability to cast spells outside of their specialty altogether. Likely creating a mage extremely specialized in one thing but incapable in all others.”
“What could have happened to cause something like that though…”
“Did you say something, Mr. Delacreu?”
“Ah, nothing.” Artem tore open another bag of chips, getting crumbs all over the seat as he began to snack on them. “So Kim, are you Lawrence Yu’s daughter?”
Kim’s pink-green eyes widened and looked to Chang for help.
“She’s not.” Chang said almost at the same time but Kim’s reaction had been more than enough.
“I knew it.” Artemvian smiled slyly. “Why would an influential man send a random girl away and hire an escort? Only one answer. She’s his daughter. So what are you trying to escape?”
Kim didn’t answer, looking nervous.
“Oh come on. I think I should’ve earned your trust by now.”
It was true. Artem’s easy going attitude was off-putting for the serious-minded Kim and Chang. However, the Mage –or Special, they hadn’t decided yet– was capable. More than that, his calm demeanor and unchanging humor kept them grounded, especially during the attack. It was obvious the man was a veteran in these jobs and the two felt safe with him.
“The Hammerheads, our motto is that we’re family. All of us. The boss is supposed to be our Father.” Kim began. “Months ago, the Hammerheads wanted to make an alliance with a gang from New Haven; called the Turtlebacks. Father, the Boss, not my biological father –Lawrence, decided to marry me off.”
“...Was he ugly?” Artem asked, rather innocently.
“He’s a drunk, a gambler and an addict. In other words, just your everyday joe schmoe.” Chang was looking out the window, his chin resting on one hand. “But rumors had it that he had a habit of beating his woman… and that he got married once before. Just happened to kill his wife on their wedding night.”
“Oh, that oughta do it.”
“I’ll die before I let that buffoon have Kim.” Chang said and met Kim’s eyes.
Artem noticed the use of possessive language and saw the two for what they really were. The couple (by Artemvian’s estimation) stared at each other and Artem could’ve sworn the birds sang and puppies rolled around in flower beds at that very moment.
He cleared his throat, announcing that he was indeed, still here. Kim and Chang finally managed to look away from each other.
“Well… now that’s all taken care of, why don’t you two grab some rest?” Artem could tell that the sun was setting. Shadows were stretching and the last heat spike of the day was finally waning. “It’ll be nightfall soon and you two have a long night ahead of you.”
Kim soon dozed off, but not Chang.
“Mr. Delacreu. What are you?”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve never seen a Mage like you. I thought you were an Elementalist, an Aeromancer. But you’re not. You… are you an Outlier?”
“Something like that.” Artem said, his thoughts still trying to piece together the state of Magic in this world. “I’m not sure to be honest. I had thought that the Laws of Magic were immutable… but in this world, they have changed. Or rather, they behave differently for you people but not for me. My magic still obeys the laws of my world.”
“Or maybe I’m looking at it from the wrong angle. It’s not that the Laws of Magic changed, it’s that you people have changed and it affects you differently.” Artemvian finished. “There are remnants of my world present here… but weak. So very weak.”
“I think I’m just starting to realize that I might be too far from home and how alone I really am.”
“I, uh… ok.” Chang had not understood a word of what Artemvian said. “So you’re not from around here?”
“Nope. From somewhere very far.”
“What did you used to do?”
“I worked for the Empire. Hunted daemons, killed enemies of the empire. Not too different from now.”
Chang nodded, hearing only what he wanted to hear. “I see… you helped people, even back home.”
Artem sat up straight. “What?”
“I said you helped people. Like how you’re helping Kim and me now.” Chang took a breath. “I know I might not get a chance to say it later… but thank you.”
“I mean it. Really.”
The Mage was silent.
A minute passed by and then another.
“...You’re welcome.” Artemvian finally spoke but no reply came.
Chang had fallen asleep.
Artemvian looked at his hands, stained with the blood of innocents and guilty alike. Always on the road, hunting down Daemons that were a threat to the people, executing criminals and training new agents of the crown that would do the same as him.
But did he ever get to see the face of the people that he was helping?
…Had he ever been thanked by someone before?
It was always ‘good job’, ‘this is your next mission’ or ‘hurry, something happened’. From the Emperor, or a Statesman or a Prince and really, anyone who was so far removed from the everyday life of citizens that they could not be bothered to say ‘thank you’, a basic human decency when someone did something for you. Why would those people say ‘thank you’? Everyone else was their lesser and the blasted fools thought it was their right, a divine mandate, to rule over others.
“Thank you… huh.” Artemvian whispered, looking out the window and seeing Nero City basked in the glow of the setting sun. “That’s a first.”
***
“We’re here.” Said the driver through the closed clasp.
The three of them got off.
“Thank you for using Alfred Security Services! See you again soon!”
Artemvian barely had a moment to react before the limo with scorch marks and dents swerved out of the docks.
“I hate these automated services. All business and no care.” Chang spat to the side.
The dock was full of metal rectangular objects, large enough to hold hordes of men; like the Trojan Horse albeit easier on the eyes. Chang referred to these as ‘containers’, and pointed to a boat in the distance. “There. That’s our ticket out of here.”
Kim turned to Artemvian. “Mr. Delacreu. Thank you.”
For the first time since their meeting, Artemvian noticed that Kim had a slight bulge on her stomach. Almost unnoticeable. He reached out with his Mana Sense, infinitely more delicate than before; like the slightest of touch so soft that one could barely notice it.
“You’re pregnant.” He whispered, realizing what was at stake.
Kim blushed and Chang looked to the side.
Artem grinned. “It was my pleasure. Now get to the boat. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Take care of?” Chang barely finished his sentence before there was the sound of shattering glass.
No one had noticed the Mana Shield, made of hexagonal plates, came up behind the group. Just as fast, there was the sound of gunfire, loud and snappy. One, twice and three more. Artemvian’s Mana Shield splintered as numerous bullets drilled into it, but held.
“Damn. I saw the video of what you did to the bikers, didn’t think you guys hired an actual Mage.” A man stepped out of the shadows and with him a dozen other men.
Still smiling, Artemvian turned to face the man. The last obstacle before Kim and Chang could have their happily ever after.
“Finally,” The former assassin-mage said, rolling his shoulders.
“A job worth being paid for.”
Chapter 9
The man who appeared in front of them wore a black trenchcoat that stopped just around his knees. Underneath, he completed the monochromatic ensemble with black t-shirt, black jeans and a black sneakers. Someone you could see anywhere in the seedy underbelly of Nero City, except for his bald-head with the tattoo of a Hammerhead Shark. Additionally, one of his arms of was made completely out of metal; but not with visible metal gears and bars. The whole thing was encased in what looked like a flexible metal casing.
Catching Artemvian staring, the man lifted up the metal hands.
“Like my baby? Latest model. Paid a pretty penny for this. Those CybMera Call guys charged an arm and a leg for this. Literally.” Then the man lifted up the hem of his pants to reveal that one leg was made of the same material, encased in shell-like metal casings.
But Artemvian hadn’t been staring at the cybernetic enhancements.
“I like your jacket.” He said, grinningg ear to ear.
The man frowned.
Then blurred.
No explosions.
No warning at all.
He just blurred.
Artemvian didn’t even blink as the man’s fist stopped an inch in front of his eyes, the metallic hand ready to pluck out his eyeballs. And he probably would have lost his eyes, if it weren’t for the Mana Shield between them. The man’s steel arm had punched through Artemvian’s shield but didn’t possess enough power to bring his body through as well.
“Wow. Clean break.” Artemvian looked at his shield, rather dryly.
“I’m going to pluck out your eyes and wear them around my neck, mage.” The man snarled.
Then the palm of his metallic hand opened up.
“WATCH OUT!” Chang cried out.
With practiced movements, Artemvian reached inside his leather jacket and took out the Electric Switch Blade that he was gifted by the thugs on his first day in this world.
Then he promptly shoved it into the outstretched palm.
The results were immediate. The Electric Switch Blade short-circuited and exploded in Artemvian’s face. But it had also stopped the man from firing.
Artemvian coughed, waving his hand in front of his face to clear the smoke. But the man didn’t let the slight explosion bother him, he rushed him; borrowing speed and strength from his cybernetic limbs to close the distance. Swaying back, Artemvian –still coughing and clearing the smoke with one hand– flicked a finger with his other hand, like trying to flick someone on the forehead.
A solid blue burst of mana fired from the Mage’s hand and then slammed into the man’s ankle, causing him to fall flat on his face on the ground.
“Mr. Delacreu!”
“Artem! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Artemvian cleared the rest of the smoke away. “Hmph. No smashing the like and subscribe button for that guy… whoever he is.” Then as if noticing his clients for the first time, “You two still here? C’mon. Git. Off with you two.”
“But-”
“Kim.” Chang grabbed Kim’s elbow, shaking his head. “We have to go.”
Chang gave one last piece of advice. “Artem… that man, he’s one of the top enforcers for our organization. Plus who knows what kind of gear he got tricked out with by ChyMera Calling. Don’t underestimate him.”
One loud bellow and the ship began to belch out smoke. With one last forlorn look at Artemvian, Kim and Chang ran off towards the boat; which coincidentally was named ‘The Sunset’.
Seeing this, Artemvian smirked. “Man. I’m such a sucker for young love.”
“Fuck…”
Artemvian looked back towards the gangster who was getting up, trying to wipe the blood off of his chin. A small Mana Shield crystallized between his sleeve and his face, stopping him from doing so. Frowning, the gang enforcer looked at Artemvian, confused for the first time.
“Don’t get blood on my jacket.” Artemvian ordered, obvious disapproval on his face.
“I’m going to pluck your eyeballs and that damned tongue of yours, smartass.” Without waiting for a reply, the man rushed towards Artemvian again.
The moment they had met, the man began this encounter with violence. Those bullets, if Artemvian hadn’t blocked it, would have killed Chang and himself, while the third had been aimed towards Kim’s swollen belly. The man knew that Kim was pregnant.
He had meant to kill the baby and keep Kim alive. So that she could still be useful to their organization… even as a shell of her former self.
A killer, through and through, willing to do what it took to get the job done.
For the first time since coming to this world, Artemvian felt rage simmering from his chest.
The man took out a gun from his pocket and began firing towards Artem, while his cyberware arm began to hum, a meter on the side slowly filling up. Artem held out a hand and flicked his finger again, sending out two mana bolts directly towards the man’s knees. With his other hand, Artem began to draw a circle, simultaneously putting up another shield without any casting or actions.
“Predictable!” The man veered to the side, trying to get around the Mana Shield and flank Artem from the side.
“Vocare. Vocare. Vocare.” Artemvian repeated Three times.
Three.
The number was significant in many religions. In Artemvian’s world, the Crucified God used the number Three to proclaim himself, declaring absolute truth. The Three Aspects of the Buddha. The Three States of the World: Solid, Liquid and Gas. The Three Canvas which made up this world: Sky, Earth and Sea.
Countless other meanings strewn throughout his world.
Once, Artemvian had been obsessed with finding out the connection between the significance between the number Three in the Laws of Magic versus the various Religions of the world.
But right now, he wasn’t Artemvian the Researcher.
So he chanted three times, using the sacred art of Magic that he loved to kill the man in front of him.
There was the sound of space-time fabric ripping, a sound that grated against the two men’s very soul. It wasn’t something they could describe to someone else, it was the feeling of their hairs standing on end, goosebumps rising from their flesh.
Primal fear of something going bump in the dark and not wanting to leave the safety of your covers.
Not wanting to look out the window for the fear you might catch something peering at you, from the corner of your eye.
The portal opened up right behind the man and two pale skinny arms reached out, grabbing him in an embrace.
“What the fuck is- AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH.”
The arms were attached to a creature, vaguely humanoid and resembling a woman but with an elongated snout and ears, more like a huge dog with a wide muzzle. Her fur-hair stuck to her skin, mattered sickly black-red blood and she howled, a soul-wrenching cry as she pulled with all her strength. The gang enforcers bones crunched audibly and as he screamed, she kissed him, bringing the alien curves of her breasts close to his back in one undulating motion.
His eyes widened and blood poured out his mouth. As she ran her claws across his chest, he arched his back in a silent scream.
Crack.
With one sharp movement, she snapped his spine.
Then the portal closed, leaving the man broken and weeping on the floor.
The scent of something sharp reached Artemvian’s nose. The man had soiled himself.
“Oh great, the coat’s ruined.” Sighing, Artemvian went over to a wooden crate and sat himself down, crossing his legs.
“W-Wha wus… tchwacial…. Tchwacial…”
“I know. You think I’m one of those ‘Spatials’, the ones that can open up portals to summon other beings. I’m not.”
“That was the Spirit of the Werewolf that I snatched from John Doe. I extracted the Werewolf Spirit and stowed it in my own pocket dimension, synchronized to my Mana Signature and ready to be used.” Artem explained, his fingers shaking as it took out a bag of chips from within his pocket. “Didn’t want that… what was it? Pharmaceutical Company? To check John and find something… use his corpse for experiments. He was innocent.. Kind of. The least I could do was take the Spirit out and make sure his body returned to a normal human’s.”
“A female werewolf must have bitten him.” He shook his head, continuing. “I had thought that the Werewolf spirit would be weakened, just like the Ifreet Descendent, but I was wrong. It was just as strong, if not stronger than the ones from my world.”
He sighed as the man’s whimpers quieted down, replaced by mumblings of a dying man.
Once again, Artemvian had killed.
Was this life meant to be the same as before?
The ‘Sunset’ blared its horns, sailing away from the docks breaking Artemvian out of his musings. Smiling and shaking his head, Artemvian finished the rest of his potato chips and walked away, the sunset illuminating his path.
Chapter 10
Three days later, Artemvian found himself at Riley’s Joint.
Artemvian came early, too early for anyone to be at the Bar. He sat at the counter, watching videos on his phone and snickering to himself.
“Hehehe… How do they train their cats to dance to music like that?” He flicked his fingers, scrolling down to the next video. “Ahahahaha! They’re making the Cats do a skit about married life! Ahahahaha!”
He flicked his finger again and fell silent as a woman in workout-clothing demonstrated how to do a ‘Squat’.
“Artemvian?” Riley called, coming out from the back. “Why’s your mouth hanging open like that?”
Artem turned his phone off so fast that it made the Hammerhead Enforcer from the other day look like a turtle. He coughed into his hands. “Nothing.”
Riley, already used to Artem’s peculiarities, brought out a briefcase. “70,000 doilies.”
Artem nodded. “I thought you said 50,000 doilies.”
“Lawrence Yu was impressed, not only did you get Kim to safety, you eliminated a high-ranking enforcer from a rival division. So he put in a little extra.”
Artem opened the briefcase and found it filled to the brim with Doily Cards.
“Artemvian. Do you remember what we discussed before?”
“Yes. Identity, then bank account and then… no more Doily Cards. I get it.” He took a handful of cards and stuffed it in his pockets. “But you told me that an Identity will cost 500,000 doilies. This isn’t nearly enough.”
“You forgot one thing. Deepweb registration. All the good mercenaries are registered on the Deepweb with a designated Broker.” Riley brought out her laptop, putting it on the counter. “If you really are serious about being a Mercenary in this City, Deepweb is a must. That’s where all the big-fishes play.”
“Huh. You think I'm a big fish? I’m flattered.”
Riley stayed silent.
Footage of Artemvian’s fight against the Hammerhead Enforcers was flying over the Deepweb –courtesy of the Voyeurs– and everyone asking for the identity of this man. Some of the more skilled hackers already knew that he was connected to Riley somehow. The only upside to this whole ordeal was that the video was full of static and the containers hid a lot of the battle from view. But the Mana Shield as well as the Mana Bolts were more than enough to cement Artemvian’s reputation.
People were starting to look for the Mysterious Mage whose true skills remained hidden.
“Big enough to make pocket change.” She finally allowed, and a ghost of a smile graced her lips. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”
Artem shook his head. “No. I’m not.”
Riley nodded, both relieved and worried. “You didn’t answer your phone for three days.”
Just how skilled was Artem if he could go toe to toe with a high-ranking Enforcer? Was it possible he was skilled enough to face off against a Gang Leader? Maybe even against the mercenaries of ChyMera Calling?
“I was… busy.” Artem replied, feeling the weight of the gun in his pants pocket.
“Then take a look at this.” She typed away on her laptop and flipped it so that Artem could look at it.
Another case file, except it looked much less official.
“A41. No one knows his real name. He’s my contact among the Web Spiders.”
“Who are the Web Spiders?” Artem asked. This city was just full of illegal organizations, like law and order existed precisely to provide a place for those people to thrive in.
“Hackers. They can hack anything, alter any documents. A41 agreed to get you a new identity, if you completed this job for him.”
“It says here, he wants me to find someone. Isn’t this a job for the Voyeurs? Those peeping toms?”
“They’re refusing to work this case.”
“Kidnapping then. Someone… or something with enough sense to avoid those camera thingies.”
The way Artemvian said ‘something’ made Riley look away from the man’s face.
His eyes… looked haunted. Chilling and the light played tricks on her, making his cheekbones sharper, his features almost gaunt and hungry.
“You think it can be another one of those… Genetic Experiments you caught the other day? The Werewolf?”
“No. That’s why I said kidnapping. Why would a murderer take the person away? Unless it was personal….” Artemvian used the touchpad to look at the photos. “This the person?”
A woman with curly red hair and a round face looked back at Artemvian from the screen. She had crow’s feet at the edge of her eyes and laugh lines in her face. Portly enough to be happy but not overly enough to be unseemly. Someone normal in every way possible.
“Her name is Helen Papier, former stripper at Pink Bodies. Up until more than 20 years ago anyways. Now she runs the place.”
“Hopefully, will continue running the place after this is all over.” Artemvian grunted. “Is that the last place she was seen?”
Riley took the laptop back to her side and typed in it. Artemvian’s phone buzzed.
“I just sent you addresses to Pink Bodies and her place.”
“What is this Pink Bodies place?”
“A stripper joint.”
“What’s a stripper joint? Like… like Riley’s Joint? I thought you were a Broker, not a stripper.”
Riley’s glare could have melted Ancient Glaciers. “Women take their clothes off for entertainment.”
“Uh… Blasted hells.” Artemvian coughed, realizing he just indirectly insinuated that Riley was a whore. “I… see. Like a brothel or a whorehouse.”
Her glare sharpened.
Artemian nodded and made to get up. “I’m off then.” Reaching to the side, he grabbed two bags of chips and stuffed them in his inner pockets.
Riley rolled her eyes.
“Wait, Artem. Before you go,” Riley stopped him and when he looked back at her, she continued. “...If the Voyeurs didn’t turn up anything and one of the Web Spiders is reaching out to you instead of someone else, it’s probably because it’s dangerous. Right now, rumors about you are all over the place.”
“Ooooh, Am I trending?”
“It’s not a joke. Chances are, this is going to get dangerous… and messy.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe you need back-up on this one.”
“Nah.”
“But-”
“I do need your help with something else though.” Artemvian rummaged in his pockets and took out a post-it note, handing it to the Broker. “Get these for me.”
She took a look at it. “Wood? Metals?”
“Limewood for my staff and Elm for… for whatever I end up making. I need Platinum and White Gold, as well as Copper and leather.”
“Why can’t you just go to the park and bring something down?”
“Because Limewood represents justice and judgment. Elm has always been touted as having anti-demonic properties. I can’t just use any type of wood. I need to use wood that has meaning, meaning that I believe in.” Artemvian opened the briefcase again, grabbing another fistful of Doily cards and stuffing it in his pockets. Closing it, he passed it to Riley. “Use this.”
“Make sure the wood and metal are in their natural state. A big branch for the wood and raw ores or bars for the metals. Spend it all if you need to.”
Artem had realized something during his fight with the enforcer.
When the Enforcer had broken through his shield, Artem had been surprised though he didn’t show it. It wasn’t until later that night he thought through the true meaning behind that. Sooner or later, he’d come up against people who were strong enough to shake off his spells and even get through his defenses. He couldn’t continue like he was now, relying on drawing circles in the air with his fingers.
The technology of this world was deep and vast, Artemvian had a feeling he had barely scratched the surface of what was possible.
So he wanted to be prepared.
“I’m going to check out her place first.” Artemvian left, leaving Riley standing there with his briefcase in front of her.
As she scoured the online auctions for what Artemvian asked for, Brant walked in through the door, whistling.
“Morning, boss.” He eyed the briefcase and laptop. “Mr. Delacreu was here?”
“He just left for another job.”
“Which one this time?”
“Missing person. An old woman.”
“Strange. Didn’t he turn down that other job? The one where they were going to pay him for robbing that rich guy?”
“Yeah… he did.” Riley stopped typing on her laptop, leaning on the counter. “I wonder what made him accept this one…”
***
Comments
Alex
it’s a drug…
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