FURTUM
SIMON
The sibriex only had a single building to their name: Arhestanots, the Fleshworks. It was right at the edge of South Middle, only a few blocks from both South-West Middle and South Central. It was pretty far from the domain of any other culture, which was a good thing. The sibriex might like playing with the toy maker, but that didn't mean they were soldiers.
Arhestanots was a small skyscraper, only thirty stories. Their most sensitive data was secured on floor twenty-five, a floor without windows or any entrance except for one door, closely watched by a dozen cameras.
Simon thought it was disturbing, really, how easy it was to break in. Obviously, he had an easier time than most due to his membership, but he had still managed to hack his way into their data center with nothing but a pad and some off-the-shelf virus programs. He couldn't help but think it would have been much more difficult if they had even a single guard physically watching the door.
But he supposed it was a good thing it was so easy. It was Friday night. It was his last chance to steal the Helix for the Queen of Loveless, and the fey were not known for their leniency. And if there had been a guard... he didn't know what he would have done. And he didn't want to know.
This wasn't the first time he had done something stupid for his sister, but usually it was small things. Stealing candy when they were kids, that sort of thing. Not treason. Well, it was too late to back out now.
He crept through the rows of servers, his breath creating little puffs of fog in front of his face. It wasn't actually freezing, but it was pretty damn close, in order to keep the servers as cool as possible. He had never been here before, but he knew the layout well enough. Even a low-ranked member like himself had access to the blueprints.
When he reached the center of the room, however, he found out that not everything was on the blueprints.
There was... something in front of him. It was hard to tell in the dark, but nestled between three servers was a mass of pink flesh ten feet high and about five wide. It was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and smelled terrible. At least the cold dulled it a bit. Sparse hair sprouted here and there, mostly on the thing's rounded top, which was far too lumpy and misshapen to be called a head. The mound of flesh shrank back as Simon watched, then expanded again, then shrank back...
It was breathing. It was alive.
Then its eyes snapped open, and Simon jumped about three feet.
The eyes were located almost dead-center in its chest, and as big as golf balls. They were a harsh silver, matching the fog and mist of the server room, and positioned just over what he now realized was a closed mouth.
Then the mouth opened, revealing a too-large tongue and broken, twisted teeth.
“Sibriex?” the mouth asked, in a deep, rumbling male voice.
Simon opened his mouth to speak... then closed it again. He couldn't find the words.
“SIBRIEX?” the creature asked again, punctuating its demand with a turret that unfolded out of the ceiling and pointed itself at Simon.
“Yes!” Simon said, finally finding his wits. “Yes, yes, I am a sibriex!”
There was a long rush of air. It took Simon a moment to realize it was a sigh of disappointment.
“Never get to shoot anything,” the creature muttered. Then its eyes fixed on him again. “Password?”
Simon swallowed. “I'm sorry?”
“Password,” it repeated. The turret whirred as it prepared to fire. “Any real sibriex would know the password.”
“I'm new!” Simon insisted. “I don't know any password!”
“It is the fourth thing sibriex are taught, impostor,” the fleshy beast hissed. “You would have learned it on your very first day.”
Simon blinked. Wait, the fourth thing he had been taught was...
“Never leave an experiment unattended, no matter how harmless it seems?”
That rush of air again, and the turret withdrew. “Correct.” The creature grumbled to himself. “Never get to shoot anything...”
“Uh, right,” Simon said a little anxiously. Or a lot anxiously. “Wh-who are you, exactly?” He had been about to say what, but had a feeling that wouldn't have gone over too well.
The mouth laughed, spewing some fluid Simon didn't want to identify all over his black sweatpants and sweater. “They still haven't told you?” The mound of flesh quivered with amusement. “Narek said they were keeping me hidden, but I didn't think he meant from our own culture.”
Simon blinked. Narek Nhang was the sibriex warlord... well, for a loose definition of the term warlord. More like a CEO. He was far more interested in experimenting with the toy maker than politics and violence. Then again, that described most sibriex pretty well.
“I... don't understand why he would hide you,” Simon said slowly. “From anyone, not just us.”
There was a long, long pause.
The fluid on Simon's clothes slowly began to drip onto the floor.
“Frozen hells,” the creature finally muttered. “You're serious. Are you an idiot?”
Simon frowned. “No need to be rude. I just don't get it. However you were made, you're clearly an impressive use of the toy maker. Why wouldn't he want to show you off?”
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“You kids have skewed priorities,” the creature grumbled. He was speaking easier now. Simon wondered if that was because he hadn't spoken in so long and needed to warm up first, or if he had just been faking before. “What do you think the Servants would do if they discovered me?”
The Servants were... hard to categorize. Based in the Cathedral, they were the closest thing Domina City had to an organized religion. Sure, the city had a few churches here and there to every major religion and quite a few minor ones, but none of them had really taken root. The Servants had grown from the city itself, and thus had a much stronger following. Even though most people thought their beliefs were a bit weird, they were highly respected for their humanitarian efforts.
But what would they do if they found a creature like this?
“Probably nothing, actually,” Simon said after a moment. They just weren't hostile in general. “I'm not sure why you'd think otherwise. Besides, they have a lot more on their plate than worrying about one slightly creepy experiment.”
The creature laughed again. “It's cute that you think that. Haven't you ever wondered—wait. What's on their plate right now?”
Simon raised an eyebrow. “Well, they're pretty involved with cleaning up after the screamers. They don't really have time for much else.”
The mound of flesh shivered. “Screamers? That a new subculture or something?”
Simon blinked. Huh. “When's the last time you talked to someone, or checked Fundie or anything?”
The creature's eyes closed. “Ahh... not sure. Six months for the internet... about a month since I saw an actual person.” The mound of flesh quivered. “But that's not so strange. I mostly just keep an eye on our servers here.”
Simon rubbed his hair back. “Right... I'm guessing you stay off the internet to stay out of MC's sight.”
“Exactly,” the creature said. “I don't know what she'd do to me, and don't particularly want to find out. However.” His tone turned serious again. “You're avoiding the subject. What are these screamers you mentioned? Last I heard the Rahabs were the only gang that was still giving Necessarius trouble.”
Simon closed his eyes. “Superpowered zombies.”
The creature chuckled. “No, really.”
“Really,” Simon said seriously. “I figured you wouldn't believe me, but it's the truth.”
“Uh-huh,” the creature said dryly. “I'm sure—” He stopped talking suddenly. “That's odd.”
“What is?”
“My scans indicate you're telling the truth. That's very... odd.” He quivered again. “Do me a favor—see that loose cable behind you?” Simon searched around and found an inch-thick cable next to a nearby server. “Yeah, that's the one. Hook it up to that port there, would you?”
Simon did as the creature suggested, and heard the hum of another machine powering up. “That your internet connection?”
“Yeah...” he muttered, his eyes distant. He licked his lips with a too-long tongue. “One second, I'm just gonna—”
He stopped. Dead still.
Crap, Simon thought. Did I kill him? “Uh... dude? I mean, sir? Are you alive?”
The creature gurgled wetly. Simon couldn't tell if that was a confirmation or one last death throe.
“I'm gonna go find help,” Simon said. Nine Hells if he knew what he'd tell anyone to explain his presence, but he'd think of something.
But just before Simon ran off, the creature recovered. “No, no, I'm fine. Just...” He swore in a language Simon didn't recognize. “Dzhokhk... need a minute to digest all this.”
Simon could relate. The entire city was still reeling a bit. Between the biters, the burners, the bats and the bleeders... it was a lot to take in.
The creature spoke up sooner than Simon expected. “Has anyone been able to determine where these powers come from? What they are, how they work?”
Simon shrugged. “By now, you probably know more than I do. All I know is that Doctor Clarke is working around the clock to figure that out, but he hasn't reported any results.”
“I need to talk to MC,” the creature muttered. “Wonderful.”
“Uh, didn't you just say—”
“Let me rephrase that: You need to talk to MC for me.”
Simon blinked. “Wait, how's that work?”
“We'll set up an anonymous server that I can look at. I might not be as good as her, but I can at least make sure she can't detect me. Then, you ask her questions.” He grinned with that mouth too-full of teeth. “Simple.”
“That's not what I meant. Why me? Surely there's someone else better suited.”
The creature grunted in annoyance. “Did you miss the part where I haven't seen anyone in a month? Nhang and I aren't on good terms.” He quivered. “No, you'll have to do. Tell me your e-mail address, and we can get down to business.”
Simon opened his mouth to complain—then quickly shut it again as a thought occurred to him. He could use the creature. He'd realize Simon was using him, of course, but this was still the perfect opportunity.
“I'll do that,” Simon said slowly, “but first you have to do something for me.”
There was a short pause.
“This is the part where you tell me,” the creature said after a moment, annoyed.
Simon winced. Not the best start. “Right. I need a copy of our Helix. Without there being any trace it was copied.”
The creature licked his teeth. “Hm... simple enough. Of course there's always the risk... I assume you have a flash drive ready?”
Simon almost said yes, but thought better of it. “No. I don't have any with the spare space.”
“Good,” he said, quivering in what Simon thought was a nod. “I half expected you to try and upload a virus.”
That was Simon's worry too, actually. He could imagine plenty of reasons the Queen of Loveless would want the record of the sibriex experiments—but he could think of many more reasons why she would want the creature that kept an eye on their servers dead or incapacitated in some way.
One of the servers that made up his little nest spat out a flash drive, which Simon retrieved carefully.
“That has everything you need,” the creature said. “Check it, if you like.”
Simon did, plugging it into his pad and scanning through it. A quick glance was enough to tell him that it at least seemed in order.
He removed the drive, pocketed it, and bowed deeply. “Thank you very much. I look forward to working with you.”
“And now for your end,” the creature said. “Your screen name?”
“Obyrith576,” Simon replied without hesitation. “Spelled the normal way.”
“Hm, good,” the creature said. “Found it.” His eyes darted up to Simon's face. “When's the last time you updated your picture?”
Simon winced. Long before he got his skin and hair cosmos, that was for sure. “Maybe... a year?”
The creature rolled his eyes. “Well, this is clearly you. I'll contact you soon and give you instructions for the interview.” His tone had a sense of finality to it, and Simon knew it was time to go.
But before he did, a thought occurred to him, and he turned back to the creature. “What's your name, anyhow? You never said.”
The creature grinned, too many teeth shining in the dim lights of the servers. “Aramazd.”