Chapter 36 - Remodeling
Apati
Nyx
This was it. The part of the family vacation where you visit your bromate’s secret and still-very-much-alive family and they rope you into doing some “light remodeling work” for zero pay, entirely at your own expense, and using all of your hard-earned loot.
Either that, or their creditors would hunt you across time and space.
See? Blackmail. That’s how I knew we were already friends – already family.
And it was better than I’d ever imagined.
The remodeling, I mean.
And there’d been plenty of opportunities for imagining back in Anchon. As I hauled the silverfin, and shoveled crap, and braved the marshes without a spirit – my broken, beaten, and bloodied vessel often throbbing in pain. As I did literally all of the shit work only to have the other villagers cheat me out of those silly wooden chits. Out of dinner. Also, breakfast and lunch and this new thing I’d just learned about it. It was called brunch.
Imagine that, a meal right between breakfast and lunch? Crazy.
I just kept learning new ways the villagers had mistreated me…
Anyway, you remember, right? Holonomics? The Rules? The mantras? A legal and economic system built up around a bunch of poetry? Yeah, it was terrible.
Which is why I had a few notes.
Okay, a ton of notes. Too many probably.
Luckily, my mind is a steel trap.
Which was fortunate because I’d been handed a perfect opportunity – the chance to finally turn my dreams into horrifying reality… and to, uh, also avoid being gruesomely murdered or hunted by yet another group of Guides. The chance to remodel not just an underground sewer lair, or a gas station, or a kitchen, or a cute bed and breakfast, but an entire city. An entire culture. The whole thing. From the ground up. Even lower sometimes.
Apati technically had more than a few underground storage areas.
Also, an extensive tunnel system.
Now, I know what you’re probably thinking.
Does enduring a lifetime of torture at the hands of a bunch of backwater villagers make me qualified to design and implement brand-new economic and political systems? To force my new and untested technology on these cranky lizard people? To upend their entire business model and replace it with something of my own unique design?
No… no, probably not.
But, counter point, does it matter?
I mean, we all have an immortal spirit, right? And these vessels seem temporary, don’t they? Kinda flimsy? Plus, aren’t all our fleeting endeavors ultimately doomed to failure? Look at Anchon! Yeah, in shambles and taken over by the Order of Apollo. Or Apati? Built by a conman who peaced out with all of their hard-earned money. Or what about my lair? My swimming pool? My heated bath? Do you have any idea how long those took to build? And where are they now, hmm?
Yup, gone – just vanished back into the Flow.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that, given enough time, everything falls apart. Everything. Vessels. Tools. Lairs. Towns. Socio-economic systems. Even relationships.
Like when you discover that your adoptive father was apparently running a long con on your entire village and very much at your expense? Oh, or that your sister was actually his favorite – which you knew deep down, of course, but at least it had gone unspoken? You know, so that you could still pretend? Or when your bromate keeps his totally-not-dead family secret and then lies to them about your [Bromance]? Also, how he keeps avoiding your questions about that really interesting ancient forge – along with the rest of his family…
Which doesn’t bother you at all. Not even a little fucking bit.
Anyway, my point is that it all falls apart.
No matter how hard you try to hold it together…
Which is actually awesome, right?
Because that means none of it matters! That we shouldn’t be afraid of tearing down something old, or building something new, or disrupting the status quo or killing a few hundred… thousand people. Because it’s all meaningless anyway and will be washed away by the tides of time. Because our lives are just an inconsequential horror-fueled nightmare with an inevitable end that most people won’t remember.
So, when life hands you shit, you know what you should do?
Exactly! Throw it at the wall and see what sticks!
And I’m a disruptor.
Which means my shit always sticks.
But you don’t have to trust me.
I can prove it. I have a plan.
After many cycles in a lightless abyss and facing the relentless and gruesome prospect of being murdered on a daily basis, I learned something.
Hobbies are important. They keep you sane. Or sane-adjacent.
And do you know what’s the most important step to any new remodeling project?
You’re probably going to say materials and labor.
Which is wrong. It’s morale.
Now, just hear me out before you judge. Say you want to build a highway through a screaming bamboo forest, right? One made of monkey shit? That you had to squeeze out of each monkey? One by one? While they screamed and clawed and stared up at you – pleading for death? You need something to get you through that.
Over that murder hump, as I call it.
Something that will let you wrench that precious poo-crete from their squirmy little bodies without pondering the karmic weight of subjugating an entire race of creatures – dooming them to an existence of suffering and death for your own benefit and uncomfortably reminiscent of how your adoptive, conman father treated you.
In my case, that was easy.
The monkeys were clearly shit-flinging, knock-off rats with no respect for others’ property rights that needed to be taught their place in the furry pecking order – one way, way below my perfect murder babies.
Then, boom! I can twist those suckers, no problem.
Which brings me to my point – morale is about telling a story.
And any good writer knows that starts by considering your audience.
In this case, the residents of Apati. Fang’s secret family.
Over the last few days, I’d learned that there was only one thing they had in common. One thing that could reach their dead, shriveled hearts. One thing that got them up in the morning and lulled them into a hissful sleep each night. One thing that had prevented them from killing each other off cycles ago.
Loot. Cold. Hard. Loot.
So, my first step as CEO was to call a meeting. Yeah, that’s right. A meeting of the entire town. More than a thousand murderous lizards and a sprinkling of other minority races filling the courtyard outside the Fin-Fan factory. Of course, they were all ecstatic to see me again. Screaming and clapping and shouting and chanting my fake name…
What? Why are you looking at me like that? You don’t believe me? Again?
I can prove it, though! Look at Fang’s mom—
“What is this?” Manslaughter asked in disbelief, staring out at the crowd. “Why are they chanting his name? This is madness.”
See? Told you it was real.
“Just wait. It will get worse. So much worse,” Fang hissed in pain.
He’d been onboard with the plan until he read the speech I’d prepared, then he was nothing but a wellspring of negativity. Maybe he was just bitter that his family was accepting me so easily – that they’d welcomed me into their steamy embrace.
How even his mom was starting to look at me with that smoldering—
“No, it is because you tricked me,” Fang snapped. Ahh, my mouth still had no filter. “And this so-called “plan” is a steaming pile of kraell shit—
“You know what, if you can’t say something nice, then you…”
I started strong but trailed off uncertainly, my brow scrunched in confusion. I was getting the weirdest sense of déjà vu. Fang just watched me, his snake eyes squashed flat.
I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t finish. It just felt… wrong somehow.
“Nevermind. Just watch,” I snapped. “My plan is going perfectly so far.”
It hadn’t even been hard. Especially since most of crowd remembered me from the party the night before and Pietr was “tickling the pipes” inside the Fin-Fan factory, those tortured screams getting the crowd’s adrenaline pumping – also, their prey drive humming. It also helped that my precious babies were dispensing a fresh batch of friendship juice to the crowd – one we’d whipped up with most of our remaining bloodfruit.
Luckily, we’d brought plenty.
We threw one hell of a pa—um, meeting. Yeah, that’s what I was going to say.
And just when the excitement reached its peak, I pulled out a tube of bamboo, caught the crowd’s attention, and hauled Cole up onto the stage with me. He looked really nervous. He hated this part of the plan for some reason. I had to wrap him up with my arm chain and drag him on stage as he clawed at the stairs and sobbed uncontrollably.
“No, please… please don’t make me be a part of this! They’ll kill us both! I’m too young and pretty to die. There’s still so much for me to live for. Like—like maybe all of my older siblings will die and I’ll inherit a fortune! It could still happen—”
Normally, this would have set a weird tone.
But, remember, your audience is important.
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Fang’s family loved it.
Yet I had something even more amazing planned.
“How are you all doing?” I asked, my voice booming through the tube.
The answering roar was overwhelming, wrapping me in layers of pulverizing sound and more than a little steam. Like a hot “sound hug.”
“So, pretty good then?”
Another roar. That looked like a yes.
“That’s perfect. Because I have some news. You’re all fired!”
The resulting silence was sudden and utterly deafening.
All of them were just staring at me with those murderous yellow eyes, Cole sobbing and shivering and shaking behind me. Ahh, yeah… this could be why he was nervous.
Okay, before you judge me too, just wait until you hear my reasoning!
“Sorry. There’s no choice. We’re out of money, we have no way to continue paying your salaries, we have no product, no way to ship in more with the sea serpents and the Order of Apollo setting up camp in Anchon, no inventory left to sell, and our creditors are likely already on their way here to collect on the company’s crippling debt,” I explained, listing out each of our problems on my fingers.
See? Mind like a steel trap.
Except, I still had the notes written on my other hand…
Fuck. They were gone – just blood-red streaks now.
I may have forgotten to account for the steam. And Fang was laughing at me off stage, but I couldn’t let him win…
Yeah, this was, uh, fine. I’m pretty good at improvising anyway.
“Plus, this town was designed and run like crap,” I continued. “Like who is even in charge? And how did they get that job? Probably nepotism, right? Or fraud? And is it really okay to kill your sexual partner? Every time? Wouldn’t some sort of law enforcement system help cut down on that? Also, ensure a stable population and workforce? Maybe some schooling for the few males left? Survival training of some sort? Buzzkill would be great at that. He’s always running away from our relationship…”
The crowd didn’t seem to love any of that – the silence suddenly filled with the sound of scraping metal and the whirring grind of a few hundred power tools spinning up to speed.
Hard to know what triggered them there.
That was fine. I just needed to keep going…
“But you shouldn’t even be mad! You’re owned by the company. It says it right here in your employment agreement,” I said, waving the contract tablet. “You’re just assets. All of you. Not just Fang’s mom, which is weird…”
I trailed off, double checking the contract.
For some reason, they didn’t love that either. Although, the upside was that Fang tried to stab me for the crack about his mom – only for Manslaughter to put him down with a punch to the back of the head. I couldn’t tell if that was because she was flattered or wanted to stick to the plan. Either way, that earned me some points back with the crowd.
Like I said, it’s incredibly important to know your audience. Vital really.
Fortunately, that also bought me enough time to make my point.
“Except, you aren’t assets if I fire you, right? Which means our creditors can’t collect on your slave—err, employment contracts. I’m trying to protect you. Although, again, technically Fang’s mom is still an asset… because her ass just can’t quit.”
Ha! Fang’s mom even hiss-laughed at that one.
And Fang looked so upset. Oh, shit, he was about to make a murder misty—
Time to hurry this thing along!
“Anyway, as I was saying, you are free to leave. To flee before the creditors get here. I just… I just couldn’t see any harm come to you – my new friends. My new family.”
I’d just blown their tiny lizard brains. I could tell. The crowd was just staring at me with wide eyes, impotent power tools whirring down slowly.
Which left them weak. Confused. Vulnerable.
Susceptible to an emergency infusion of morale.
Yup, you guessed it.
I sold them one hell of a story.
“Or… you could stay and help me fix this mess,” I offered to some skeptical hisses.
“I know – I know – you’re probably asking yourself why, right? Why should you trust this rationally-challenged sapien that entered into a bromantic relationship with your estranged brother Buzzkill? That’s fair.
“The answer is experience,” I replied with my biggest smile ever. For some reason that got a really strong reaction. I knew it would come in handy somehow.
“Most of you have already heard about my humble beginnings from the surprise party. Orphan. Broke. Hollow. How I’m a humble, self-made sapien. How I’ve managed to do this many, many times before – survive against impossible and overwhelming odds, I mean. Yet I faced that overwhelming torrent of shit head on. I went to therapy – worked on myself. And in the end, I rescued my family from the toxic confines of the Flow’s silver-ranked rectum with just garbage, murder, and a dash of blackmail. And just look at me now?”
With a wave, the murder babies emerged from a trio of ratholes, pandering to the crowd with their huge, blood-red saucer eyes and hugging their [Battle Daddy] tight. I’d only had to hide the demon monkey sliders in the spines of my battle onesie. It worked great.
And just in time. Fang exploded out from under his mother’s foot. Thick vapor swept across the stage even as Manslaughter hauled back the ratskin curtain with her exquisitely toned arms to reveal my recreational vehicle, light spirits blazing through the adult kraell skull mounted on the front. Vapor spiraling around the turret placements. The giant cage in the back. The extra storage space on the roof. It was a thing of beauty.
Meanwhile, Pietr picked up the beat, wailing music roaring – a whining, rising crescendo that sent a shiver of electricity up my back.
“I have it all! A Death Wagon!. A fashionable battle onesie that even Fang’s mom wants to pry off me?” That got a pretty big shout out from the ladies.
“The love of three of the most precious murder babies that had ever graced the Flow.” That got a bunch of “ahhs.” Which was fair. They were adorable.
“And the companionship of a cold blooded sociopath who obeys my every command! My little pet lizard. Hopeless virgin. You know him as Buzzzzzkilllll!”
Pietr knew the signal and the wailing increased in pitch, mimicking Fang’s screams.
Ahh and now the traitorous trash goblin was hesitiaintg – frozen on the edge of the stage. Unable to decide whether to try to kill me and feed into my amazing plan or resist and let me keep talking. I knew this would happen.
Which is why I did this. I wasn’t proud of it…
I pulled out a fresh nimbus gem and waved it at him, his pupils dilating in a split second as they caught sight of that precious gemstone.
“Buzzkill, fetch!”
The nimbus gem hurtled over the crowd. Fang paused for only a moment – a split second of indecision where he weighed his pride against the tingly reward of pure power.
Then he was gone in a blur, mist exploding across the stage. He leaped off one of his clones, then another, then snatched that gem. Only moments later, Fang was back on stage, snorting a line off his claw as his clones fell into the crowd of his sisters, the savrans ripping them apart savagely and roaring their approval as they exploded into more mist.
They fucking loved it!
“See? He even does tricks. I’ve trained him so well.”
Fang glared back at me, but what could he say?
Hadn’t he just claimed the same thing about me?
Plus, he didn’t have a bamboo tube so no one could hear him.
Now, I just needed to tie this all up in a neat bow of rat intestines.
“To top it all off, we’re already retired,” I continued. “Yeah, we’re actually on the bloodiest and most dangerous family vacation the Five Rivers has ever seen!
“And you can have the same! A sweet ride. Beautiful murder babies. A co-parent that knows his place in the lair!” I roared through the tube, the crowd screaming in approval now. “I’m offering you the opportunity to take your lives in your own two claws – to become the bloodthirsty villains of your own story. A chance to own a piece of Fin-Fan, Inc.”
Oh, I had them now. A thousand glowing yellow eyes focused on me.
A thousand voices chanting my name. Or, well, close enough.
I’d had nightmares just like this, but this one was going so much better…
“That’s right,” I continued as the screaming died down a little. “If you stay, if you remain employed by and actively working for the company, you will receive an equal share of the profits and voting rights. If you choose to leave or stop working in the future, the company will buy back your shares at market value and you will be free to go live your life. Retire! Go on a vacation of your own! Or stay at home! Raise a family… or not – because there aren’t any men strong enough to handle you. So maybe you pick up crochet? You wouldn’t even need the needles with those claws, right? Maybe get a few poison kittys to keep you company, I guess?”
My sisters-in-law were looking at each other weird now.
Shit, I was losing them again.
“Anyway, here’s the best part…,” I trailed off, my voice growing quieter and Pietr dropping the tempo. “Since you’re all getting in at the ground level, that means there’s still huge room for growth. Because we’re already planning to expand aggressively with one of our up-and-coming new product lines.”
I held up a softly glowing vial of what appeared to be blood.
And it was. Kind of. We’ll get to that later.
“I call it Friendship Juice… or FJ, for short,” I announced. “Highly addictive. Almost dangerously so. Laced with a proprietary blend of special herbs and spices that will guarantee your new friends keep coming back again and again and again until you’re either out of product or they run out of money. We even have a killer new slogan.
“FJ - The taste of friendship.”
Oh, they absolutely loved that. Especially when the babies used the bamboo sprayers, hosing the whole crowd in a bloody crimson mist, their fanged snouts raised wide to the sky and revealing row after row of incredibly sharp teeth.
But I wasn’t done yet – not by a long shot.
“That’s not all!” I roared, keeping up the momentum. “We’re also offering a new employee retention program to help fill out our ranks and reduce your workload. For a limited time, we’re offering membership to outside employees. Anyone who wants can sign up to become a shareholder and employee of Fin-Fan, Inc. And for every person you get to sign up, you will receive another share in the company!”
A collective gasp escaped the crowd.
“That’s right. The sky’s the limit! Sign up 20 new employees? Boom! Twenty new shares. Retirement just came a little earlier, ladies! You’ll be out there… like murdering everything in sight in no time at all!”
That one got a huge response. Okay, they liked murder. Got it.
“And we haven’t even talked about voting rights! One vote per person, regardless of share ownership. All major decisions by popular vote. Elections every 10 cycles. You will finally have a say in how this place is run. Your voice will be heard!”
Just not right now. Again, because they didn’t have a tube.
“And as for me?” I asked, placing a hand to my chest.
“I won’t take a single gem in compensation.”
This was the part that Fang had hated. But it was important. Critical really.
Now I just needed to finish this – bring it home.
“So, the real question isn’t why should you trust me to remodel your city? It’s why shouldn’t you be rich? Why shouldn’t you own your own recreational vehicle? Have your own babies? Find your own bromate? Go on your own vacation?”
“The real question is why shouldn’t you trust me?”
“All you have to do is believe in me.”
Like Elder Gracen hadn’t. Like Fang should. Like my babies did.
And like I hoped all my sisters-in-law would.
And with Cole by my side, they did.
His spirit spread through the crowd like wildfire, those shadowy spiderwebs threading across scale and skin. Leaching that sweet, sweet nimbus and feeding into the narrative I was spinning. Taking advantage of the dash of death shroom I’d added to the friendship juice – along with a few mild hallucinogens, because why not? The result was a mad kaleidoscope of power that tumbled and rushed and roared its way back onstage and welcomed me into its searing, clinging embrace. One strong enough to bend reality around me.
They no longer saw a stranger. A sapian. The Hollow.
They saw a rockstar. An entrepreneur. A one-man wrecking ball.
One here to clean up a clusterfuck and build an even bigger one from the rubble.
And they would all be a part of that! They would own it, technically.
The combined roar was enough to shatter glass all down main street, Fang’s family combining their spirits into a torrent of steam that rocketed up through sky in a swirling column nearly a mile wide. Which seemed dangerous. I really hoped that didn’t have a major and unforeseen effect on the local weather.
And while Cole’s spirit gaslit Fang’s entire family into trusting an unstable madman with their lives and livelihoods, the spiderwebs pulled away from my skin to form a perfect clone of myself. One with depth and heat and weight and with Cole reluctantly pulling the strings as he hauled himself up from the stage floor – apparently, no longer convinced he was going to be lynched. Honestly, he started getting pretty into it.
Gassy-Me kept talking – kept making lots of promises.
And then, well… my part was done.
They looked pretty damned motivated to me.
And before you start in on me, I already know what you’re going to ask. I mean, Fang did too. Almost immediately, actually. Although, he was screaming it at me instead of just standing there and glaring and looking super confused.
Why was I giving away the whole company?
It’s a fair question. I’ll admit, it’s a little out of character for me…
I’d like to say it was to trick Fang’s sisters into taking the fall with our creditors if my plan didn’t work. Or to help gaslight them harder – you know, to make them think they could “trust me.” Or even because I’d seen how hard they worked, how much they’d given up – trading the tantalizing thrill of murder for operating a canning machine. How this company had taken away the best years of their life and left them with a slew of mental health issues that inevitably showed up in their personal relationships. Probably because they hadn’t gotten the [Therapy] they richly deserved.
But the answer was simpler than that.
I figured it would piss off Tom.
Because he’s still alive – we all know that right?
You know, the guy that had run off with all of their money? My adoptive conman father? The self-proclaimed king of capitalism?
He’d bet all of his money on himself. Not his favorite, Leandra. Or, you know, me? His second favorite. A budding and misunderstood business genius.
So, naturally, I planned to prove him wrong. To turn this company into an economic powerhouse that would take the Five Rivers by storm. To build an empire that made his little con look like child’s play. To create so much wealth that the combined weight would be enough to bury him alive under a mountain of nimbus gems.
Fang had made a weird choking, gurgle sound at that part.
But, here’s the best part… I wouldn’t own any of it. Not a single gem.
First, because it didn’t matter. We’ve already covered that.
Second, because I didn’t really want the responsibility and stress of running a company that would hopefully create many, many incredibly jealous enemies. Cole could do that. Plus, he deserved a chance to work on his confidence issues – to be the boss he’d always pretended to be. And what better way than by learning to gaslight his employees? I was already working on his imitation battle onesie. It would look exactly the same as mine but without any of the defensive features. It was going to be great.
But finally, and much more importantly, because fuck Tom.
I was going to create a mountain of wealth and then burn it in front of him.
And you know how I know it’s going to work? Fang.
He hadn’t looked at me like this since I burned his trash mountains. You remember that? Back in the hell sewer? It was glorious. He just stood there beside me, staring at the crowd, watching his dreams of endless nimbus crumble around him.
See? Like I said, my shit always sticks.