“Three,” a cacophony of voices cheered, “Two. One. Happy New Years!”
Its Midnight. The first of the month. January. The year is 1998.
The alarm on the nightstand blared, an obnoxiously high-pitched sound, as the green digital display flashed 00:00 and the muffled sounds of cheers wafted up through the wooden floorboards. No sooner did the alarm go off than the covers were tossed vigorously to the side and a young man bolted upright from his bed with a grin, flashing a wicked row of pointed carnivorous teeth. The man had skin like dark chocolate and black shoulder length dreadlocks swept back so they rained down upon the nape of his neck like a hurricane. He all but flew from his bed, streaking to the sink to splash some water into his face before looking into the mirror to reveal a strapless eye patch plugged into his right eye socket. Opposite to that, there were three eyes on the right side of his face, one in the usual position, another further to the left and a third above that angled slightly downward, creating a lopsided triangular gaze. Each one could change color with magic, but were now dull and grey, as he preferred.
“Wonder what that commotion is,” he mused to himself, even as the last of the cheers faded away. He started his days at midnight, as he figured it was an optimal time for hunting giving him enough time at both night and day to find his targets, regardless of their schedule. Tonight, it appeared he was far from alone at this hour, as he was accustomed to. He lifted his hands to wipe the water that was dripping down his face, simultaneously causing a series of metallic links that was wrapped about his right arm to jangle. The chain dragged on the floor leading to an object stored under the bed. He finished freshening up and walked into the room, still garbed in naught but his underwear, the muscles and battle scars on his body rippling as he stretched his arms and legs out.
He grabbed the chain whipping it down causing a tumultuous wave to run down its length until the object under the bed was snapped out like a harpoon and he caught it in his hand, flipping it to his back while grabbing the chain and wrapping it around his shoulder to secure it in a practiced motion. In doing so he revealed a handle whose pommel the linkages connected to. On the other end, a large sheathed sword, blade hidden, was wrapped disorderly in a black and worn fabric. He opened the closet and put on his black fatigues, holstered his gun, and then threw his cloak, threaded from the same source as the fabric embroiled around his back. The cloak had a hole for the hilt of the sword to slide through so that just the pommel with its heavy chains weaving back through the hole underneath the cloak was showing. Finally, he tightened up his combat boots before going to the television stand, with its box-like CRT tv set to static to provide white noise for when he needed to sleep. On it were two pieces to a face mask. He picked up the first part and tightened the straps around his head so that two large, round, tinted lenses gave his face a bug-like appearance and obscured his disfigured eyes from view. He picked up the remaining part of the mask and snapped it onto the bottom part of the first half, which had two red filters on each side of a cylinder. The gas mask was rated for any toxic environment, and the filters only needed replaced once a month unless he actually encountered a dangerous atmosphere.
His preparations complete, the young man opened the door and walked out into a yellow-lit hallway, incandescent lights buzzing, which had miserable red and grey polka dot carpeting. He strode down it, passing by identical doors to the one he had walked from, each with a three digit code. 322. 321, 320, and so on.
He approached a set of elevator doors, pressed the button with an inverted triangle, and waited patiently. The first elevator sidled open, and out paraded a pair of inebriated patrons, one a scaly saurun, the other a cardinal anemoi. The man stepped aside as he watched the avian and reptilian duo stumble down the hallway while they fumbled for their key. He tilted his head, pausing long enough to watch them for a few seconds, before entering the elevator and pressing the button for the first floor.
A second later he stepped out into the grey tiled with black trimming bar and welcome desk, which had people drinking, laughing, and joking. Chaotic confetti covered the ground like the shavings of a particularly passionate woodchipper. Insane in the Brain, a song that came out a few years ago by Cypress Hill was playing on the large box tv. The man imagined installing it had to have taken at least two people, as not only was it unwieldy, but its cathode ray tubes made it heavy. The video was sourced from a music video collection VHS that was inserted into the player. He gawked at his fellow patrons, looking left, and then slowly right, before prowling carefully to the bar, where the innkeeper was serving drinks.
“Happy New Years!” The bartender exclaimed.
“Uh, yeah. What’s going on?” his voice was muffled through the mask, yet his voice still carried despite the obstruction, revealing a powerful set of lungs on his part.
“It’s a New Years party, you forget it was turning 1998 today?”
The man looked down at the bar and mused out loud, “So we celebrate it?”
The bartender just laughed, “So, what can I get you, Kid?”
“Any new bounties?”
“Seriously, work on a holiday?”
“Well, what do people normally do on New Year’s?”
“Drink, party, and get laid! Were you homeschooled or something?”
“Pretty much raised in a hole in the ground, yeah. I’ll take an aviation cocktail.”
“Yes, sir, still want to hear what bounties there are?” The Kid nodded, and the bartender continued, “Still have the puddies infestation down at the brewery on Fifth. Right now they estimate about a hundred, and they want to be sure whoever clears them out can do it in under two minutes, otherwise,” he popped a champagne bottle for evidence and handed to someone who had been waiting on a drink before the masked gentleman. After that he pulled out the tonics he needed for the aviation.
Detaching the bottom half of the mask, the masked man peeled his lips back to reveal his row of pointed teeth in a good-natured smile before he laughed and said, “I’m bored, not broke. What else you got?”
“Some bandits have been holding up passersby the north gate. Seems they’ve been emboldened by the military being disposed to the front lines. The police are offering five thousand soft Gs per head.”
The bounty hunter straightened up, “What kind of magic and weapons they using?”
“Held them up at gunpoint, pistols if I recall.”
He slouched back down, his voice becoming monotone, “Oh. Is that it?”
The bartender placed the finished cocktail in front of the Kid, who started sipping on it with appreciation. “It is, though if you had come about thirty minutes earlier, you weren’t the only bounty hunter on the prowl. A trio took a hot new bounty on who-knows-what in the warehouse down on Lincoln and Forty-Fifth. Witnesses have had conflicting descriptions, one person said it was a driniad, another claimed a saurun child. Seven people have gone missing so far, however, that is certain. They were offering twenty-five thousand soft Gs for it. How is it?”
“Delicious. Shame, it sounds interesting. Pretty good payout as well, but first come, first serve, right?”
The bartender nodded with a chuckle while he began making a new drink for one of the other patrons, “Also, they were saying there was a sudden appearance of a pair of mirrors there too. Doesn’t match with anything in the TED though, so probably nothing.
The man looked up and the depthless black eyes of his mask peered at the bartender in silence, yet despite his eyes being covered up, there was a fierce intensity to the gaze. After a long pause, and once the bartender started to shuffle uncomfortable under it, the Kid took a sip and then asked, “Pair of mirrors, huh. Were they facing each other?”
“I don’t know.” There was something with how still the Kid had become that put him on edge. He had talked with him numerous nights, but he had never become so… stoic…
The black-clad man nodded, pulled out a fifty, and placed the soft G on the bar, “Keep the change.” He turned away, without finishing his liqueur, and the bartender looked down at it in confusion. He took a moment of realization before calling out after him.
“Let me remind you that it’s illegal to steal another bounty hunter’s kill.” The Kid didn’t turn around, but instead lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave in acknowledgement to the warning before stepping out through the revolving door.
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The three bounty hunters were allowed into the warehouse, which was about a thousand feet across, three thousand feet long, and eighty feet tall, with pallets upon pallets of VHS tapes stacked up and down like a carefully documented spreadsheet. There were a few scattered forklifts parked, and fans in the ceiling could be seen rotating slowly. There was the musty smell of dust in the air, and yellow lines marked where the walkways were so that the pickers on the forklift could work unimpeded.
The first of the bounty hunters was a saurun, towering at six foot six, with a gleaming tan underbelly and desaturated orange scales for the rest of his coat. His sex was given away by the spines on his neck and chin, like that of a bearded dragon, and his slitted eyes blinked rapidly to clear dust out of his eyes, having side eyelids as opposed to an upper and lower. He wore green camouflage fatigues, worn, brown military boots, and bulletproof body armor on his torso, strapped tightly to protect his vitals. He carried a combat knife and two spare magazines on his belt, and a pistol was holstered on his thigh, a SIG Sauer P226 with a twenty extended mag capacity loaded with leaden 9mm bullets. There were a couple of cargo pockets on his front, which bulged full like the throat of a frog mid-croak. His tail dragged heavily on the floor behind him, simple yet thick enough that with a lash he could easily snap a femur in half. Luckily, sauruns were not particularly fast compared to other sentient species, as otherwise they would be incredibly dangerous.
The second member of the party was human, with fiery red hair and narrow, piercing green eyes highlighted by her makeup. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a green tank top with black shorts and boots. She carried a bow on her back and a rapier on her side. A corded necklace laced down from her neck and down into her cleavage. She stood with arms crossed, weight mostly on one leg as she tapped her fingers upon one of her forearms.
The final member was the shortest of the three, a mocha-skinned human with short, curly, black hair. She wore a navy hoodie that was just tad too big, matching sweatpants, and a pair of plain white tennis shoes. Slung around her back was a green bag marked clearly with a red medical cross on it buckled shut. She didn’t have any visible weapons on her, though there was what appeared to be a wooden stick poking out from her hoodie pocket.
The saurun spoke first, his voice crunched like gravel, yet hissed like a soda can, a voice quite typical for his species, “Alright, are we all ready for this?”
“I am, of course,” the redhead scoffed.
“Yes, sir. I’m ready,” the shorter of the pair chipped in, her voice shaking a little. Her brow furrowed as her eyes widened a little, and she scowled.
“Don’t worry, milady, this will be an easy first mission. Just follow my lead,” he hissed
“I don’t see why I would be, Benedict.”
“Mr. Benedict Bagelli, do you know what we’re fighting?” the shortest member asked, her voice quivering more intensely.
“No, Destiny, I do not. Most likely it’s some gangsters, trying to take advantage of the war to try and kidnap and hold them ransom,” the reptilian explained.
“That’s quite observant of you, Benedict. The sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can get approved by the rebellion leader. And I can get a warm bath,” the redhead said, her voice apathetic as her eyes swept the rows of pallets lazily.
The reptilian and the shorter woman both responded in unison, “Yes, milady.”
The three began marching to the center of the warehouse, with the woman drawing her bow so that she was ready if needed. The saurun rested his hand on his pistol, and the shortest woman kept her hands in her hoodie while they walked briskly, their steps echoing in the abandoned warehouse.
Finally, they reached the center of the warehouse, which had a pair of conveyor belts that were currently off. Curiously, there were a pair of mirrors facing each other between the conveyor belts.
“You sense anyone?” asked the redhead, defaulting to the saurun, the only one of the three who had any combat experience, and more importantly knew Enchant Level III.
“No milady but stay on your toes. We do not have homefield advantage.”
“Sure,” she said rolling her eyes. He would detect something living well before they ran into it anyways, there was no need to be so guarded. Not like they had a sniper or anything. She stepped between the mirrors and glanced into one of them.
The mirrors were creating the endless hallway effect since they faced each other, but this was not what brought her to a halt. It was the two children sitting on the floor, with a small redheaded girl reaching out towards the boy. She wore an expensive dress, while the boy wore a butler’s attire. Her mouth slackened, and she started to open her mouth, as if to call out, when suddenly the mirror’s edges sharpened into rows of knife-like teeth.
The mirrors crashed together, narrowly catching nothing but wind as she found herself scooped up in the arms of a black-clad man in a gas mask. She screamed in shock.
“Milady,” cried the saurun, who had pivoted in alarm.
The new arrival, on the other hand, was breathing heavily and said, “Made it.” Underneath his mask, hidden from the others, his upper eye had developed ticks on it and turned bronze, twelve in total, like a clock. Three lines, representing the second, minute, and hour hand, were spinning rapidly. “Think that’s the fastest I’ve ever accelerated.” The hands on his eye disappeared and it faded back to grey.
She shoved him away and fell onto the ground, picking herself with as much dignity as she could muster, “You have some nerve…! Still, what the hell is that mirror?”
The Kid ignored her first comment, instead addressing the mirrors which were now contorting and combining while twisting into a humanoid shape, “Mirrors can’t eat you. That’s a Paradox forger.”
Her head swiveled as Benedict and Destiny reached them, “Did you say Paradox?”
She didn’t have time to finish her inquiry when a horrible metal shrieking erupted from the mass, which had warped itself into a form identical to hers, but with a mirror sheen around it. On its forehead, a vertical slit split open, revealing a rainbow colored eye that shifted and shimmered.
“We can talk after we deal with that, what spells do you know?”
“What does that matter?” the woman snapped.
In response, the forger slammed a hand to the ground and a tree erupted from it, cracking and crumbling the concrete while it branches weaved through the air before slamming down in their direction.
“Dodge!” It was the shorter woman who shouted while shoving the redhead to the side while the saurun jumped aside and the Kid sidestepped. She was not as lucky, however as the branch slammed against her leg with a crack and she crumpled to the ground. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a polished wooden rod. Pointing it at her leg, her voice strained as she roared, “Heal!” As she did so there was a flash of cool light and her leg snapped again in repair before she scrambled to her feet and ran over to the redhead, asking, “Are you hurt, milady?”
“I’m fine, Destiny, just get out of my way!” She drew the bow tight, and there was a flash of green from an emerald dangling on her necklace before a twisted wooden arrow sprung from her fingers and she loosed it. The arrow splintered uselessly against the reflective skin of the clone, hard as metal.
“I told you it’s a forger!” The Kid yelled as he attempted to get closer to the thing even as it pulled out its own mirrored bow.
“I have never seen a forger copy a living being!” Benedict hissed.
“That’s why it’s a Paradox forger, moron!” The Kid failed to close the distance as suddenly two flowers blossomed in the air above the metallic monster and fired pollen down at him from their buds with enough force to shred the conveyor belts apart. He leapt back, spinning in the air so he could land on the recently born tree branch, now piercing the ground. “You! Redhead! What spells do you know, cause clearly it knows Life Level I and III? Anything else I should look out for?”
“I can’t cast either of those spells, so what does it matter?”
The saurun pulled out his P226 and fired at the forger, but its head twisted so that its third eye stared directly at him as a small tree sprung up and absorbed the shots.
“Did you bring a low caliber pistol for bounty hunting?” the masked man shook his head in disbelief.
“I brought a gun, you have a problem,” Benedict’s voice rumbled.
“You brought a peashooter! Is this your guys’ first bounty or something?” None of them responded. “Oh, for crying out loud, you guys actually took a twenty-five thousand bounty for your first job? Are you suicidal?”
The redhead screamed at him while continuing to shoot useless arrows at her target, “You’re doing a lot of complaining for not having any solutions!”
In response a desert eagle poked out from his cloak, and he took a shot at the forger. In immediate response a flower bloomed underneath and launched the creature into the air, where it drew it’s bow and started raining arrows down on them. The four of them took cover while the Kid cursed his luck. He didn’t want to push it, but at this rate one of these amateurs was going to die, which he also didn’t want on his conscious. His primary eye turned bronze, and the twelve ticks appeared before the second-hand advance by two seconds. On the third tick it skipped, and the second hand became stuck on two second.
He glanced around before seeing a branch impaling the short healer overlaying on top of her currently standing there fine. He swung his gun around and shot just as the branch erupted out in an attempt to kill her, splintering it. “Happy New Year’s!” he shouted with a sarcastic flourish of the gun.
“H-happy New Year’s,” she croaked, realizing how close she was to dying.
He swung the desert eagle back at the forger, this time seeing an overlay of a flower appearing above it and launching it back to the ground. He fired once at where it was and immediately aimed near the ground and fired again. The flower appeared and fired the forger towards the ground, but before it could land and reorient itself it found a second bullet embedding itself into its chest, shattering it like glass, revealing a blue wireframe.
The thing screamed, before its frame turned into glowing zeros and ones and faded away. The glass shards froze midair, and then also disappeared into glowing zeros and ones. The hidden eye of the kid turned grey again, and he coughed lightly.
The three looked at him, back to where the forger had been, and then back again. Benedict was the first to start speaking, “Thank y-,” he didn’t get to finish.
“What in the name of the Kingdom was that?” asked the redhead. In response again the Kid coughed. “Did you just steal our bounty? That was a legally accepted bounty, on our part, and you had the nerve to steal it?”
“Milady…”
“What, Destiny? Are you saying I’m wrong?”
“No, milady, I was just…” The Kid coughed a little harder and pulled off the lower half of his mask, his fingers moving as if on autopilot.
“No, what!?”
“… Nothing, milady.”
“Good, now as for you… Are you even listening to me!?”
The Kid of course was not, as he had lost consciousness by this point. Instead, he coughed up some blood, and then fell face first into the ground, breaking his nose.
“What the hell! Destiny, do something!” The redhead screamed in panic.