“Spit that out! What the hell is wrong with you. I told you, count them. You count the disks. Then, when they rattle, they work.”

“But aren’t they candy?” one of the GreenGaters asked.

“I swear to god, Chris,” Bruce said, turning from his trainees with his forefinger and thumb massaging the bridge of his nose.

“They’re just not use to them yet, Bruce. That’s why they need you,” Aury responded.

“I’m only doing this for you,” Bruce responded, jabbing a finger at Aury. He turned and addressed the line of hunters dressed in ridiculous costumes that spanned from the Victorian ear through World War Two.

“Your artificer lacks the patience necessary for his craft,” Henry said through folded arms.

“Bruce just likes to do things his own way,” Aury defended. Henry pursed his lips. “He’s the best,” Aury added.

“I said dangle it, you… How?” Bruce barked. “Your dainty little lighters and your dainty little kerchiefs but I say ‘dangle’ and you’re mashing ‘em up in your fist like a damn gluttony spirit. I swear…”

“Like this,” Zer0 offered, showing the class a candy necklace, pinched between her fingers. The group adjusted their respective grips. Bruce huffed away, leaving Zer0 to take over his lesson.

“I’m not Mr. Miyagi, Chris.”

“Miyagi?” Henry echoed.

“I don’t teach idiots. I get things.”

“What else do you think we’ll need?” Aury asked.

“We’ll need to get a bunch of stuff.” He shot a glance of his shoulder. “And I’ll need to fix some stuff too.”

“Which art do you employ?” Henry interjected.

“R & D.”

“Ahh, yes. Alice—our mob’s artificer. She also prefers Runes and Divination.”

“Research and Development, ass.”

“Bruce,” Aury intoned.

“I can’t deal with these idiots, Chris.”

“They don’t get it, do they?”

The group turned to the new voice with a slight southern accent. The young lady—much younger than the rest of the Victorian hunters—stood proudly in the shaft of sunlight that beamed down. She wore a long, dark dress with flowy arm cuts, a gilded lapel, and had a pointy hat tucked under her arm. Her soft, coiled afro pulled down and away in the breeze that rushed through the chamber.

“Gentlemen,” Henry said, extending an arm behind him. “Alice, our artificer.”

“Charmed.”

Aury took a moment to gather himself and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Alice said, taking his hand. “I’ve been interested in your work, Crixus.”

“Aury.”

“Oh…” Alice lamented. “I just figured… You know. Because of your name.”

“Bruce,” Bruce said, grasping Alice’s hand and giving a single vigorous shake. “And no. They don’t fuckin’ get it. Just ‘cause they’re weapons doesn’t mean they’re not sensitive, for fuck’s sake. So, what’s your story?”

“Same as yours, I suppose. I locate artifacts and, when unable to find them, I imbue them as necessary.”

“Imbue?”

“Do you not imbue?” Alice asked, her eyebrows pressing. “How do your artifacts work?”

“Mostly nostalgia. The internet age has some pretty strong ties that hang around. Millennials also haven’t been gone that long—unlike Victorians. It’s not too hard to find stuff.”

“Would you like to see my forgery?”

“Fuck it,” Bruce burped with a shoulder shrug.

Aury watched Alice guide Bruce away from the group with a smirk.

Bruce blinked as the two passed through yet another set of massive wooden doors with huge brazen rings dangling from their centers. Alice pressed her hand to the right most door, allowing them to swing easily, despite their size.

Inside, the sounds of fire and steam hissed and crackled against the smell of char and sulfur. Shelves against the farthest wall stood tall, stocked with neatly arranged wooden and metal objects and vials of liquid, some of which boiled on their own in the ambient warmth.

Alice placed her hat on a round stand tacked to the wall and pulled a pair of necklaces from the worktable, hanging them on hooks behind her. She took a scroll from Its place, neatly tucked on a shelf, and unrolled it.

“So sorry for the mess.”

Bruce blanched, remembering his absolute pigsty of a desk in his workspace, an office in the back of the local retro bar, a bar stocked with old arcade machines, pinball games, and 80’s décor.

“No worries.”

“This is my signet map,” she said, unrolling the parchments, holding the corners in place with small, metallic paperweights. “These symbols were important during the mid to late 19th century. Just the basics, really. The real fun comes when I blend.”

“Blend?”

“Blend! When I take components from some signets and combine them, making new imbuements. You don’t blend your signets?” Alice’s eyebrows pressed against the beaming smile on her face.

“Not really…”

“Then how do you craft your artifacts?”

“I don’t really craft. I mostly find stuff that had some meaning from the turn of the century. So long as they’re not knock offs they usually do the job.”

“I think we can help each other.”

Bruce and Alice continued to banter and exchange ideas, Bruce gruffly stabbing concepts at Alice who deftly diffused his tone with a glance or a question. Bruce trotted off and returned with a sack of artifacts and fresh scroll was rolled out. Alice armed herself with a quill and Bruce pulled out his iPad, gliding his finger around the smudged glass.

After some shouts, thumps, and a small explosion—Alice stuck her head out of the door and assured the hall that everything was okay—the two emerged with cards and candy and all manner of random plastic danglies and beeping toys. Scrolled into each one were different symbols marked in 90s glitter pen or colorful scratch and sniff marker. Images of floppy disks, polar bears donning sunglasses, and frogs with cans of beer covered the bottoms of aqua and purple splashed disposable drink cups and troll dolls with freshly primped neon hair.

“That’s a lot of gear,” Zer0 announced as Alice and Bruce trudged into the makeshift training area in the center of the main hall, bags thumping as the hit the cold marble.

“Thanks,” Bruce groaned, standing and rubbing his hips and lower back.

“Not sure that was a compliment,” Zer0 added under her breath.

“We need to break these guys up into teams. What do you think?”

Alice agreed with Bruce, nodding resolutely, pulling cups and toys from her bag, passing them among the other hunters who inspected with faces varying from interested to disgusted.

“How do these even work?” a young lady in a bolder hat and pantsuit asked.

“There are three primary functions: defense, offense, and arrest,” Bruce barked.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Teams of five,” Alice added.

Pepper watched from the distance as Bruce and Alice stood at the front of a team of hunters, all holding random objects and standing in varying degrees of readiness. His head cocked as orders were announced and stances changed.

After several minutes, Pepper adjusted his beans and toddled to Zer0. He patted her leg then reached one arm up, squeezing his mitt into a fist and back open several time. Zer0 rolled her eyes, reached into her hip pocket, pulled out his phone, and handed it to him. He tapped her again. She met his eyes aggressively shrugging her shoulders. Pepper pointed at one of his paws. Zer0 rolled her eyes again, this time adding a huff. She reached into her other pocket and handed him his screen glove.

Pepper walked up to Bruce, who was rocking back and forth from heel to toe with his arms crossed. Pepper swatted his cargo pants. Bruce furrowed his brow and glowered downward. Pepper touched his ears and extended an arm. Bruce grumbled, reached into the baggy pocket along his calf, pulled out a pair of headphones and handed them to the bear.

Pepper marched toward the corner of the hall, gloved, with a massive phone under his arm and a pair of headphones dangling around his neck. The ear pads almost touched the floor.

He sat down, plugged in the aux jack, affixed the pads to his ears. He swiped, touched, and looked up. Bruce and Alice spoke inaudibly, Bruce making sharp gesticulations and Alice defusing them with her now practiced manner. At the other end of the hall, Zer0 looked on as 15 people of all ages watched Aury’s quick movements with random plastic toys and packets of confections, explaining details and lecturing. The introduction of Eye of the Tiger started playing in Pepper’s headphones.

Pepper’s unblinking plastic eyes glistened as the scene sped up. Flashes of pictures of Aury waving an arm and candy falling out of Bruce’s pockets; Zer0 closing her eyes in concentration and Alice furiously scribbling notes.

The song ended and Pepper stood, noticing it was suddenly hours later.

“What happened?” Pepper asked, pulling his headphones to the green cloth that would be his neck.

“We figured you fell asleep,” Zer0 said.

“I must have… So what’d I miss, eh? Anything sparkly?”

“I think we’re finally getting it,” Bruce said.

“Let’s hope so,” Aury added.

The group sighed together and marched through the entryway with Pepper’s headphone cord dragging several feet behind.

----------------

Sweet tobacco smoke snaked skyward as Aury squatted, squinting into the distance. Visons of a battle and a boy and a scar flashed in the tendrils that reached up until the thump of shoes and the pat of cloth feet split the silence.

“What you thinkin’?”

A soft hand touched his shoulder.

“Nothing,” Aury responded.

“Come on, Chris. What’s up?”

“I’m fine,” Aury said, standing up. He pinched his cigar between his fingers, flicking ash to the pavement.

“So what’s the plan there, Chumbawumba?” Pepper asked. Bruce’s face scrunched so hard his forehead looked like it was sprouting another mouth. “What?”

Aury bit down on the wooden tip of his cigar, reached into his pocket. His zippo clicked open, sparked, then clapped shut.

“Let’s get moving,” he grumbled, dropping his cigar and grinding it with his heel.

Pepper looked down at the mangled cigar as the group moved forward. The wooden tip was gnawed to the point of splitting.

Pepper’s feet blurred as he struggled to catch up.

“Oy! Gibface!” He shouted. A man in pin stripped pants and a dress shirt looked back. “Yeah you. Make yourself useful, eh?” He reached his mitts into the air. The man glanced around with pursed eyebrows. “What ya lookin’ for? The Queen ain’t gonna save ya. Crack on, yeah?”

He picked Pepper up and set the beanie baby on his shoulder. Pepper would have gawked if his face was able.

A massive, building eclipsed the peach sky, casting a mountainous shadow across the potholes in the parking lot. Fading yellow parking lines bounced in and out of view by the light flickering from screaming parking lot lights.

“What’s that?” Pepper whispered.

“That’s the Happy Warehouse,” A woman in a bolder hat said.

“It used to be owned by Mr. Calvin, the guy who owns the amusement park at the wharf,” a different man said.

“They stored all the unused equipment here before they closed down. Now it’s a right nightmare,” the man carrying him continued.

Aury stopped suddenly at the highway guardrail that separated the parking lot from the rest of the world. The sound of his zippo sounded out echoed by several others behind him. He sniffed and stepped over the rail.

“You figure we’re the first ones here?” a man in a heavy, industrial coat and suspenders asked. Bruce shushed him.

“Yeah,” Pepper added. “Keep it quiet.”

Bruce glared at Pepper, who shrugged in response.

Aury hunched and hurried across the parking lot, hunters from different factions following in a single file. He pressed himself flat against the brick wall next to the side entrance to the building.

He looked behind him, raised a finger to his lips.

Aury yanked the door open and tiptoed in.

The massive warehouse floor was littered with fiendish clowns covered in cobwebs, staring down with chipped smiles. Skeletons of old rides and mobile food carts pressed against the walls with colored umbrellas poking up, folded and covered in dust. An ancient wardrobe stood, tall and coffin-like in the corner, staring down at the group as they fanned out.

Aury’s lighter sounded out again.

He exhaled a breath like he’d been holding it in all day and stood up straight.

“So, what now?” One of the hunters asked.

Aury walked toward the center of the warehouse floor, turning in place, taking in every corner of the massive room, struggling to make out the details in the fading sunlight that crept in from the sooty windows, three stories up.

“Let’s find our positions,” Aury offered.

“We practiced this, people,” Bruce continued. “I want us all paired off and in our positions. Defenders up front to catch.”

The hunters found their assigned partners and moved into a practiced, circular pattern with two pairs near the front and side entrances. Aury and Bruce took their places near the center with Pepper and the Greengaters tightly around them. Zer0 tucked herself in the very center, closed her eyes, and listened.

“What do you think, Z?” Bruce asked.

Zer0 touched her stomach and grimaced

Pepper’s black, safety eyes scraped around the room then fixed on Zer0. He watched her eyes roll back and forth under their lids until motion behind her caught his attention. He watched the hunter in the boulder hat furrow her brow the same time as Zer0 did.

“Something’s not right,” he heard Zer0 say in the distance. Aury’s zippo flipped open.

“What’s that,” the other hunter asked, as she padded toward the corner.

“Something’s not right, Aury,” Zer0 said again, her eyes opening, her first three fingers jamming into her solar plexus like she was trying to feel her lunch through her skin.

“Is that Hulk Hogan?” the hunter asked.

Aury’s head whipped around, his eyes fixating on a bright red, plastic lunch box with an image of a mustachioed man, flexing, and wearing a bandana.

“Don’t touch it!”

A blast sounded out, an explosion of black smoke and green eyes.

“What cha gonna do, brother!?” the unnatural voice shouted as four of the hunters fell to the ground.

“They’re already here!”

Heads in every direction shot toward the commotion of thick, black fog as hands fumbled for weapons.

“One, two, th—th—three…” one of the hunters stuttered.

“Little late, my hulkamainac.”

She was swooped into the air by her collar.

“Pullout your weapons!” Bruce shouted, throwing a packet of pop rocks to the ground near the door. A pop and sounded out as a dark being, like a drawing of a goblin scratched furiously in scraping black ink, screamed and sizzled into a puddle of crimson candy, grasping at the air. “Everything!” he shouted as Zer0 snatched him by the arm and pulled. A thud sounded out as a hunter fell from the rafters with crunch, her boulder hat delicately fluttering down after.

Zer0 and Bruce gawked and at the unnatural bend in the hunter’s neck and vacant look.

Huffs and grunts pulled them back to the fight. In the corner, Aury flung packets of candy with a necklace dangling in his other hand.

“Seven!” he shouted, shaking the necklace. A deep, resonating thump echoed, scattering demons out and away from him in a blast pattern. “Zer0!”

Zer0 bit her lip and dug her hand into her bra, pulling out her pog.

“Malcom Xavier, mother fuckers!”

A beam of white-hot light burned as she pulled the focus in a circle around her to the sound of shrieks. Another hunter screamed as he was pulled, clawing the floor, into the shadows behind one of the clowns.

Bruce grunted. Pepper watched him soar through the air, landing with a clunk, bringing a disposable drink cup with a drawing of a floppy disk onto a pill bug creature. It was instantly miniaturized as the cup slammed down. Bruce groaned as he got up then stomped on the cup, green ooze creeping out, painting a spot of sticky goo on the concrete floor.

“Chris!” he shouted.

Pepper watched the carnage like it was in slow motion. A massive insect stabbed its forelegs into the chest of a hunter. Another bludgeoned an imp with the twirly, yellow end of a bop-it.

From the corner of his plastic eyes he saw Zer0 holding her stomach, her pog depleted and her eyes rolling again. And Smog creeping around the derelict rides and toward the center.

He shot, his little green legs a blur as he ran toward the center of the room. He stopped instantly, twirled to the side dodging ball of phlegm then jumped, narrowly missing a stray pincher. He dove, his mitts hooking onto Bruce’s calf pocket. He swung himself up and scurried inside. He emerged holding a massive game boy. It let off a single ding as the Nintendo logo scrolled onto the screen and he shouted.

Demons fell and dived away from the onslaught from the little bear’s gatling weapon.

“We have to get out of here!” Bruce shouted. “Pepper! The door!”

Pepper shifted his focus to their right as Zer0 called out.

“Everyone out!”

Aury dove. He hit the ground and rolled onto his knees. He shook the necklace and watched another wave push back the incoming horde of demons, glowing eyes and snarling teeth glinting in the fading daylight.

“Go!” he shouted, advancing into the fray.

Bruce threw a ring pop onto the ground, the shards shooting in every direction, peppering the incoming demons with confectionary shrapnel. “Come on!” he shouted. “Pepper! The door!”

Pepper hopped out of Bruce pocket and ran to the door, stopping short. He turned on his would-be heel and lifted his game boy, mashing buttons, watching demons fall and scatter as pixelated Tetris blocks turned randomly, over and over.

Another thump rang out, pushing demons back in a blast pattern.

“Henry!” Aury shouted.

“Bye and bye, shabbaroon. Bye and bye,” Henry said calmly as he stepped to the side, deftly dodging a swooping claw, scattering a handful of Magic Grow capsules in front of him. The demon shrieked as tiny, neon dinosaurs emerged and swarmed, tearing chunks out of its flesh before they all fell, lifeless to the ground.

“Look alive, Arthur!” He shouted.

Arthur, Second Head of the Greengaters, smiled as he whipped a skinny, braided, leather belt in the face of Smog the Shadow, who snarled contemptuously. He chuckled and turned to run.

The team look in horror as Arthur stopped his advance and touched his chest with his fingertips. He looked at his hand.

“Henry?”

Henry’s eyes dilated as he looked at Arthur’s hand. A black slime crept down his fingers to his wrist before he fell to his knees.

“Henry?”

Arthur’s chest burst open, spewing to the ground as Smog stepped out of the puddle, a forked, red tongue licking its yellowing teeth through a smile.

“Arthur!”

“Go!” Aury shouted, snatching Henry by the frilled collar. He dragged him backward, screaming and fighting, through the door and into the light as hissing and grinding echoed from the Cauldron, the last of the vortices in the city.