Aphrodite stared silently at Brock, the two of them alone in the deserted avenue. She fiddled with the sash of her coat, then lowered her eyes with a sigh.
“Fine. I guess I owe you one. What’s the address?”
Brock gratefully jogged over and pulled out his magiphone, showing her the location. She cocked her head to the side.
“Huh. Looks like we’re neighbors. I’d say ‘what are the odds,’ but this place craps out coincidence like a goose that decided to mainline sketchy street tacos. Follow me.”
She set off in a confident stride, hands in her pockets, and Brock hustled to keep pace. The street they were on was narrow and winding, and the only light came from the scattered streetlights, half of which weren’t working. He felt like he was walking at the bottom of some abyssal trench.
“Uhhh,” he began hesitantly, “is everything around here like this?”
Aphrodite snorted.
“Hardly. This is the Pit. No one lives here, which is why we were using it for the party. Didn’t want to make a mess somewhere the natives might care about.”
She cut into a midnight alley, and after a minute of dodging various piles of things Brock didn’t want to think about too closely, they emerged into a broad thoroughfare, warmly-lit by glowing windows, illuminated signs, and strings of orange lanterns. Numerous people of various species and even more varied clothing were walking in pairs and groups along the tree-lined paths running down the center of the street, and mechanized conveyances cruised by in their designated lanes. A large sign posted on a thick metal pole next to the road read ‘Absolutely NO Goondams,’ and several sheets of paper with the caption ‘MISSING BIKE’ were taped in place lower down, a picture of a futuristic blocky red motorcycle covering their upper half. Small tags with contact info fluttered gently at the bottom of each missing poster.
Brock looked around in wonder. It looked like a bustling city center full of enough nightlife to make even Tokyo or New York jealous.
I wonder why the behemoth-shearers thought this place was so bad. It seems amazing.
Aphrodite turned left and headed down the sidewalk, Brock behind her still gawking like a yokel. The majority of the buildings flanking the thoroughfare were three to five stories tall, and looked to be filled with entertainment establishments of one type or another on the ground floor. Crowds of chattering people entered, exited, and loitered outside on a regular basis, but the types of business were scattered with no sense of cohesion or consistency that Brock could determine. There were gourmet restaurants shoulder to shoulder with dive bars, karaoke joints adjacent to mystical libraries, strip clubs and smoke dens and snail races and dozens of stranger things all flashing their names and wares in an overload of color and sound.
A body suddenly flew through a pair of swinging doors just in front of them, landing in a moaning heap on the sidewalk and narrowly missing Aphrodite’s feet. Mocking laughter could be heard from within the smoky interior before the doors swung shut once more. Aphrodite stepped over the twitching form without breaking stride, and as Brock scrambled to keep up, he saw it was a middle-aged man wearing a limiter and a matching set of black eyes.
“Aren’t we going to help him?” he asked breathlessly. Aphrodite shook her head.
“That’s the High Score. Anyone who goes in there deserves whatever they get.”
The name sounded familiar to Brock, and after a second, he placed it.
That’s the bar George the chef told me to meet him at. Doesn’t seem like Aphrodite’s a fan of the place, though.
“Why’s that?”
She wove her way through the crowds, then halted at a crosswalk, waiting for an opportunity to cross the oncoming traffic.
“Because it’s filled with assholes who think killing people is no big deal.” She turned to look at him. “They keep a tally of how many NPCs - their words, not mine - each regular managed to wipe out before they were caught, and they’re always looking for recruits to set a new record. Hence the name.”
A floating ideogram of a walking figure appeared in the air in front of them, and Aphrodite set off across the street, Brock trailing behind. They seemed to be the only ones using this particular crossing.
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“Look, you’re obviously new here, so let me give you some advice. There are three types of people from our world in this world, Brock.” She held up a finger. “Those who still think everything’s a game, and can’t wait to unleash their powers again, no matter what it takes or who they hurt.” She held up a second finger. “Those who’ve given up, who just want to try to fit in and make as normal a life as possible for themselves.” She held up a third finger. “And those who are tired of being discriminated against for a choice they never had a chance to make, and want an opportunity to make the most of their new life. But that requires trust, and the natives aren’t real keen on trusting us no matter how much we try to convince them otherwise.”
“Wow, that sounds-”
The truck slamming into Brock cut off his response and sent him flying headfirst into a large tree trunk like a javelin. His vision blacked out, and distantly he heard a horn honk angrily and disappear. When he came to, Aphrodite was standing over him, gazing down thoughtfully.
“And then apparently there’s you. That truck came out of nowhere.”
“...hnghhh... yeah... it didn’t feel great.”
“No, I mean it literally came out of nowhere, ran you over, then vanished. What the hell kind of power are the natives letting you run around with that does something like that? Seems a bit more excessive than the normal gintama nonsense they condone.”
Brock crawled back to his feet. His clothes were scuffed and slightly muddy, but otherwise seemed unharmed. He gave a brief prayer of thanks that he hadn’t ended up naked.
“I dunno,” he said truthfully. He was about to add, and I don’t think they do either, but Bindy chose that moment to fly out of his pocket.
“Brock! You have arrived at your destination! Great job! You’re doing excellent! Please rate my assistance on a scale of pi to i!”
Brock gazed dumbfounded at the tree.
“...this is my apartment?”
Some sort of furry creature the size of a small dog chittered angrily from a lower branch, shaking its fist and both tails at him, and Aphrodite giggled.
“Not unless you’re willing to evict Seymour there, and he’s not one who’ll go down without a fight.”
The creature flung a nut at Brock and pegged him square on the bridge of his nose.
“Ow! What the hell?”
“Told you. Ignore Bindy, it’s terrible at directions. Our entrance is right over here.”
“Hey! Mister Brock should not ignore me! I am here to help him with whatever he needs! I am a wonderful asset! I have three million, nine-hundred sixty-five thousand and twenty-eight recipes for asparagus! Asparagus soup! Asparagus with soup! Asparagus soup with-”
Brock wrestled the magiphone back into his pocket and followed Aphrodite to a small metal door set between a store offering nothing but comically oversized swords, and a boutique hair salon. She motioned to a small square of what looked like ivory set into the corroded metal.
“Go ahead. It should open to your biosig. Pretty easy way to tell if you're allowed to enter someplace.”
Brock tentatively pressed his thumb to the pale square, and sure enough, after the sapphire sigil appeared, the door swung inward. Beyond was a well-lit foyer with robin’s egg walls and a black and white checkerboard tile floor. A variety of potted plants adorned the floor and walls, and a series of clear tubes that looked like hamster tunnels snaked across the white-trimmed ceiling and through the walls to both sides. There was another pale square next to the inside of the door frame, and Aphrodite pushed it as she stepped inside. A blue sigil, different than Brock’s, flared, then winked out.
“Security system,” she explained to Brock’s questioning eyebrow raise. “If you enter the building without touching this panel or the one on the door, well, you’re not going to have a good time. Lady Razoralia,” she called, “you here? Got a new tenant.”
They waited for a moment, but nothing seemed to be happening. Aphrodite shrugged.
“She’s probably busy at one of the other shops. She’ll get you checked in later. Stairs are over here; we’re on the third floor.”
She led Brock to a curving spiral of birch steps coiled around a pillar at the rear wall. Dark green ivy grew along the banister’s length, and Brock was startled to see small insects with bulbous orange posteriors crawling amongst it. When he put his hand down for balance, they carefully separated so as not to get trapped beneath his palm.
“Fireflies,” Aphrodite said. “They act as night lights when it gets late, and keep the ivy trimmed. Don’t worry about squishing them - they have pretty tough defensive magic and good reflexes.”
Brock shook his head in marvel. Just when he thought something felt familiar, along came another new experience to knock his perceptions of reality out of whack. They passed one landing, then stepped off at the second. A small hallway that ended in a large window alcove was before them, a neatly painted white wooden doorframe with a matching door to each side. A ball of what looked like pure fire hung in a silver lattice cage above them, bathing the brief passage in warm yellow light.
“And that’s...?”
“Firefly nest. Where they sleep.” Aphrodite took a step towards the door to the right. “And this is where I sleep. You’re the other one.”
Brock stepped towards the left-hand door, then paused. He wanted to say something, but wasn’t quite sure how to say it. Finally, he settled on a simple word.
“Thanks. For showing me the way here, and, well, stuff.”
Aphrodite’s hand hung just in front of the biosig panel, her back to Brock.
“...likewise. You’re the first person I’ve seen stand up to Hardick like that.” She turned slightly, showing her face in profile. “Did you know he wasn’t going to be able to kill you?”
“I didn’t think about it,” Brock said honestly. “I just wanted him to stop hitting you.”
“Well, thanks.” She blinked. “Good night-”
Dirty green luminescence erupted all around them, a pentagram bursting into life on the floor below, and Brock and Aphrodite dropped into a lightless abyss.