The suit remained, refusing to disengage before every last Fae in the vicinity was dead. However Myles had kicked that problem over to the others. His gluttonous storage space had already absorbed more than his fair share and he was letting everyone else fill their tanks and grab their choice of loot. Equipment apparently not playing by the same rules. But since he could probably gobble up what was left of the Whistlers giving the others first pick and time enough to top up seemed the right move. Myles dangles his legs over the roof, he had perched himself on top of the old petrol station. Officially, his reasons had been to keep a look out and be useful wile he rested, he would never admit the real reason was purely because of his inner child.
Two shots rang out as one of the Barrington's double tapped a Whistler. Several minutes passed as Myles watched the others search out the few still living, Charlie munched happily on the dead ones and probably a few near dead who just didn’t have the energy to protest. A few more bangs before a final shot and the armour disengaged. As of that moment, there was not a living Whistler in the whole of the UK. However the remainder of the feud played out, Myles had, from when the others had said, become possibly the most expensive prey maybe ever. He was so lost in though he nearly missed the woman behind him. She gave him a contemptuous poke with her foot. Myles rose to face her on the garage roof. She wasted no time in speaking.
“Even at this size you look small.” Said the woman looking down her nose at Myles
“But tell me human, what did you think of them?”
“The Whistlers?”
“If that is the current nom de plume then yes, the Whistlers.”
A glance told Myles what he needed to know, alabaster skin, black, hair and a shimmering green dress. The creeping sense of wrongness you couldn’t quite put a finger on. But if her identity wasn’t obvious enough, her right and was on her hip the other was missing. If this was who he was 99% sure it was. What he didn’t understand was the french accent. Myles would need to play this extremely carefully, diplomatically and most importantly he would need to concentrate pretty hard.
Myles held out his left hand in greeting, his smile a picture of polite innocence.
“I’m Myles Endeavour we haven’t properly met”
The woman scowled and slapped his hand away.
“Alright, the Whistlers. I don’t know if you are fishing for compliments, or if you want me to gnash and wail complaints at you. So what I really think about the Whistlers and please listen closely so I don’t have to repeat myself, is stuff it up your arse and get to the point.”
The woman looked like the shit on her shoe was talking back, though from her perspective, it was.
“I came here with an offer. A debt arduous to collect is still a debt and if you won’t do the right thing and die you may instead prove useful in other ways. My minions.” She waved a hand at the muddy field of dead Fae “Are sturdy, useful, but slow to breed, it will be generations before I recover their numbers sufficiently, I will need new help and you represent an interesting opportunity. The porcelain throne is once in ascendance and bending the knee ill suits a Queen. One of the great folly brought to heel and raised up would be a powerful deterrent.”
Myles continued to stare, but curiosity overpowered his good sense.
“I need to ask, are you some kind of meat puppet? You are clearly physical and I’ve got a horrible feeling that dress is made of your own skin.”
“That is remarkably accurate. You are not the first of your kind I’ve had to deal with though you remain more persistently alive than most. But making my avatar, what you described as a meat puppet, fully human, prevents that wretched mistake from activating. It lets me see you as you are supposed to be. It is more effort than a psychic projection but your kind are not to be trusted with those.”
Myles began to frown.
“How do you fit so much ego into such a small body? Never mind, I work with someone just like that. Do you happen to head up the HR department in your jar of piss reality?”
“It seems manners and patience were too much to expect from the filth of this world. So let me lay it out clearly for you. First, Yes, all humans are a resource and I’m rightfully in charge. Second, I’m coming for you, next crack in the walls I find, be it wide as the moon or the barest hairline crack I will break into this filthy world, all of me. My full majesty will bear down upon you and obliterate you. I will scour you from this world. You owe me for the insult, for the minions and for not fulfilling your duty as prey. But because I’m better than you, I will give you a chance. Swear servitude to me and work off your debt.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“I fail to see what the benefit is. Not to mention your pink groupies tried to kill my loved ones while a tiny part of you rode shotgun..”
“Shitfilth like you value you lives for some reason. I’m not only willing to let you keep yours but offering to let you dedicate your life to me. You people can’t be lacking the wit to see the honour and privilege to see the golden opportunity I am giving you… are you even paying attention?”
“I take it back, your ego isn’t fitting in meat sack, it’s leaking out all over the place. Anyway, my next question might seem like a non sequitur, but it is very important so pay attention. Did you know the UI of the Trigger is customisable?”
“what are you gibbering about human?”
“The User Interface, how we manage the Trigger. Mine pops up in dark blue rectangles, but I could make it different colours if I wanted, green or maybe purple if I’m feeling fancy. I can even change the shape. Bigger, smaller maybe round off those ninety degree angles off a little bit.”
“I fail to see how any of this is relevant. Are you going to accept my gracious offer or not human.”
“Trust me, it’s incredibly relevant to this conversation. I can also alter how my familiar sees his UI. His name is Charlie Murderpaws. One of your subordinated tried to kill him and I think probably did, I was very upset about it. Anyway, it took a lot of concentration but Charlie has been seeing a small round, bright red UI. I’ve even been moving it a bit and he has been having a great time.”
The meat puppet the being known as mother was controlling stared at Myles unable to grasp whatever it was the hairless monkey was on about.
Myles stared back. His face remained a mask of neutrality even as a small rail of blood left his nose.
Mother, unused to muted mortal senses and distracted my Myles failed to notice the tiger sized domestic house cat. Charlie pounced at the red dot on the side of her face and sank his fangs in. The flesh doll shrieked in rage and fear as Charlie Murderpaws played with his new toy, feline instincts takings over as the razor sharp claws on his back paws were brought to bear on the flesh dolls abdomen.
“Assuming the WiFi is still running, my answer to your job offer is nob off Stumpy.”
“Myles, why do you have a dead hooker?’ Asked John Marquis. “Did you at least pay her first?”
“She isn’t a hooker.”
“Dad, why does your student have a dead hooker?”
“Myles, stop your cat eating that dead hooker.”
Myles, closed his eyes and counted, he was already getting grumpy from the rain. After waving to get their attention his friends had joined him on the roof… after twenty minutes of ignoring him while they continued looting. He finished counting and with calmer nerves pulled his cat away from the disembowelled fairy homunculus. He didn’t know how close to human it was and probably for the best if Charlie didn’t get a taste for long pork.
“This was some kind of projection, a meaty projection. From that eldritch tart who keeps trying to kill me.”
“They are called Living Dolls Myles, not meaty projections.” corrected John Barrington. “The ancient fairy folk used to make them to flex their power. Smooshing together a bunch of organic matter from across dimensions isn’t easy or efficient. But do it right and you got yourself a crying, talking, sleeping, walking living doll. Great for infiltration, individuation or just plan walking it out for an old fashioned dick measuring. The young ones revived the practice in the early 80’s but it’s still a rare sight. Most importantly, what did she want?”
“Job offer apparently. Not that I would have taken it in a million years, I’d rather trust Rusty with the rest of my jam.”
“The jam reference seems weirdly specific” Said Dyna.
“That’s because Myles gets weird about jam, he caught someone double dipping his special jam at the office an it took HR weeks to smooth things over
“I can still see Marjorie's stupid toad face lit up as she got to tell me off” Grumped Myles. “
“What did you do?” Asked Dyna
“Officially nothing. you see, it’s not my fault if people helped themselves to my food. But actually it was lots of soluble fibre in a spiced stone fruit jam in a very fancy jar and giving off festive aromatics.
“We called it The Brown Christmas, it was just before we took a weeks holiday” Said John Marquis, the memory causing a small tear to form. “Everyone wanted to try it. Marjorie took it down to HR for them to enjoy.”
“Oh shit.” Said Dyna.
“Yes, very much so” Said John Marquis.
“I’m not going to sit back and let people create a hostile work environment.” Said Myles.
“You turned the top and bottom floor toilets into a hostile work environment.” Said John Marquis. “You could smell it after we got back in the new year… you can still smell it on hot days.”
“This is wildly off topic and while I love a good jape as much as the next person, Myles’ dead hooker said something very important you need to know about John.” Said Llex
“Myles, your watch is talking?” Said John Marquis, pointing at the miniature computer.
“Oh yea, secrecy. Well, cats out of the bag now. Hello Other John I’m Llex and we were probably going to tell you about me sooner or later…. you seem to be taking this very well”
I’m stood over a dead hooker arguing about jam with my friends who all have super powers, so when viewed through that lens a talking watch is a very manageable psychological hurdle.
“Not a hooker.” Said Myles “Llex, could you please tell us what I missed and or didn’t understand.”
“When Mother’s meaty projection made her recruitment pitch to Myles it suggested the Porcelain throne was in ascendancy.”
John Barrington looked like someone had walked over his grave.
“I knew time was short, but this…” He trailed off
“Dad? If you need us to destroy a porcelain throne, you’ve just heard what Myles can do.”
“It was one time.. maybe couple of times. Look, don’t judge me just because I can predict the actions of greedy people.”
“We need to talk about this and I will explain everything. But I can’t put this on you with everything still going on, you need your heads in the game… and I need time to think.
John Barrington played up his image as far as Myles could tell, but he saw none of that now. He saw a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The three depended from the roof, the drop being only a little tough on Trigger enhanced bodies. Myles was left alone to deal with the corpse. the corpse had had brought them up to help with.
“Maybe I should just leave it for the birds?’ He asked Charlie, who made no effort to hide his drooling. “Should I lock her up in a trunk or something? No, I should show her the respect she deserves.”
Myles rolled the flesh puppet off the roof with his foot and let it hit the concrete with a satisfying thud. It couldn’t be left out in the open, fortunately Myles thought of just the place to stash it.
Job done, he hopped in the car and they were once again on the road.
In the Fey realm, Mother roared at the indignity. She would see Myles Endeavour in person soon, she could feel it.