Being put back down from the shadows' hold onto the dirty ground of the Sunken City did little to lessen the humiliation Decanov felt at being treated no better than an unruly pet. Judging by the grimace on his scarred face, the boy who called himself an inventor fared no better on that matter. That made one thing they had in common, he supposed. At the very least the two wouldn't have to be manhandled any further, though the little time they had spent in this compromising position in front of Silhouette's latest guests was more than enough to keep the two calmer than usual, too busy holding onto their bruised egos to fight any further.
Still, the engineer would be a poor scientist if he let something as trivial as appearances and emotions get in the way of his analytical mind. The new trio of individuals waiting before the orphanage, past its front gate but still a healthy distance from the door the doctor, the youth, and their common employer had just exited from, wary specters already peeking out of the walls behind them to keep an eye on the meeting.
Having ghosts watching did wonders to dissuade anyone from trying anything untoward. Few were ready to handle the paranormal, especially a group on their territory.
The locals were a mixed bag. A tall pale creature, humanoid by the loosest terms; a human in the second half of his lifespan, certainly a wizard judging by his eccentric robes; and a poor excuse of a cyborg, her arm a pitiful pile of scraps put together with the unnecessary flair flourish those fools with dreams of apotheosis via metal all shared. The lot was a sorry sight, perfectly at home in these ruins of Zalcien's past. Still, there had to be some value to them if they were deemed worth meeting.
"Everyone, this is my latest contact from the surface, the doctor Ivan Decanov. Doctor, allow me to introduce our neighbors, each an expert in their field who is more than happy to provide a service, for a fee of course."
On the one hand, being introduced without his authorization annoyed the engineer somewhat. On the other hand, his was a face easy to recognize, and at no point did he mention he preferred to stay anonymous for this outing. If anything, he had been the one asking to be connected to the rest of Silhouette's activities. Still, he'd take the time to bring us this issue later. The robot would usually have no trouble complaining, but his favorable view of the shadowy man combined with his earlier humiliation did cool his temper. For the short term, that is.
A black tendril guided his gaze toward the wizard first, his blackened hand pulling at his beard, a long sinuous thin strand of hair that turned from white at its base to black at the tip, not unlike a recently used wick.
"This is Mesker Duskenfer, a wondrous sorcerer, as well as our provider of magical contracts."
"My expertise lies in exorcism, particularly of the demonic sort, but lately I found myself becoming a consultant for all matters regarding the arcane."
Given the pointed stare the fiery eyes of the mage sent Silhouette's way, Decanov could easily guess who was responsible for changing his routine. He could empathize, but at the same time, he was more than aware the dark polite troublemaker brought more good than ill.
It was always good to have someone who could deal with unnatural matters at hand, a fair share of the bizarre world of magic escaping the scientist's grasp.
It was even better to have someone versed in dealing with demons around.
Those bloodthirsty beasts had a habit of jumping into any spatial rift accidentally created during experiments, and though Decanov was talented enough to avoid causing any such incident himself, he had been present for one. Two floors down from his temporary workshop, an idiot caused a fracture in their lab that let in one of the children of chaos. Luckily the Union arrived swiftly, and the casualties were kept low, though they did keep the doctor under heavy surveillance for a week, thinking he was the reason behind the accident.
The metal man extended an arm, and the mage in turn shook his hand.
"I can appreciate a man who keeps those creatures away."
"Ay. However, do try to stay cautious. I know Silhouette can take care of the common demon, but it'd be much simpler to call me if anything happens. Your people have a crystal ball for that."
The scientist fought back the urge to raise one of his prominent eyebrows. He had not been informed of this matter. He knew his employer had some talent, he had survived an encounter with Abrakaboom after all, even if the Villain had merely been playing, but taking care of a demon without any exorcism training was remarkable. Either the black figure knew more than he let on, or he had more offensive power than some crime lords did. Either way, he wouldn't complain about a stronger protector.
"Next is Motiro, a pack leader."
The strange pale humanoid, a digitigrade creature with a long neck that led to a too-wide head crowned by short thick horns pointing to the sides, let a rumbling hum echo from its chest to its throat, its beady black eyes making its stare harder to decipher. It tilted its head, its long flopping ears dangling with the movement as the muscled flap of skin that acted as its upper lip that went on to cover the lower half of its face twitched idly once or twice.
"We track, we hunt, we fetch. Dead or alive. We also trade our flesh and prey, machine."
This time he did move his eyebrows, though it wasn't born out of curiosity or confusion but a wave of growing anger. Not at the creature's services, for even he could benefit from alchemical materials in his designs, but at its choice of words when addressing him. The facial gesture was accompanied by the clenching of his fist, the sound of his metal fingers curling becoming much louder in the tense silence.
"What did you just call me?"
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
The last of the three, the dark-skinned Amazonian cyborg's eyes alighting with realization behind her black glasses, leading to her quickly stepping up between the robot and the beast, the latter's lip pulling up from its face, revealing the fearsome fangs in its jaws.
"Call down, fancy pants. Motiro ain't being racist, that's just a speech pattern thing. It calls everyone by what it sees 'em as. Mesker's wizard, I'm cyborg, tall and gloomy over there is shadow, short and cranky is pup..."
The beast stopped its snarl and lowered its erringly long arms, claws relaxing.
"Was this the source of your rage? I apologize if my words wound you, robot."
The robot huffed.
"Apology taken. 'Robot' will do for now."
Everyone calmed down, and some didn't bother hiding their sigh of relief as the conflict in the making was defused. The wizard shook his head, his blackened forearms crossed in front of his chest.
"What a childish reason to spark your wrath. For a scholar, you have a tumultuous temper."
"There is no better reason to let loose the fire in one's heart than the dismissal of their personhood, primate, even if it is done via a weaponized truth."
The old mage let out a minuscule burst of air through his nose, his pink eyes looking to the side as he spoke once more.
"Fair enough."
The cyborg faked a cough, bringing the attention back to herself, her thumb pointing to herself.
"Anyway, you met the twig and the killer, so now's my turn. Marie Musaraigne, my big thing's cybernetics, but I can do pretty much anything with enough copper and duct tape. I'm the tech to see in these parts."
The metal man looked at her artificial arm, the white surface making way for transparent plastic at times to reveal the veins of glowing blue fluids beneath. He grimaced and scoffed.
"Please, do not mock me. If you are an expert, then I'm a god. That arm of yours puts so much focus on aesthetics it foregoes practicality. It would only take a flick of a finger to disarm you, and make all the auxiliary systems you installed in yourself useless without their primary power source."
"The hell are you saying, rectangle face? Who are you to judge a design? You're just a Draskian pile of bolts, barely able to walk."
Her words only met the dead stare of the engineer whose only answer was to prove his claim by stepping forward and lightly hitting one of her blue veins with one of his cubic fingertips. Her arm rattled, its glow flickered on and off, and at once flowing liquid froze and turned black. The mage and the beast exchanged a look as they watched their common friendly acquaintance's face grow red, and both silently vowed to search for a third party to check on all systems she had installed for them.
"That wasn't a flick you jerk! That thing's reinforced, you had to put a ton of force behind that!"
The lights of her arm turned back on and returned life to the limb just in time for her to point her finger at the robot's unimpressed face.
"You aware that this material doesn't absorb vibrations, no? It is resilient enough to withstand hits on its own, but not stop kinetic force from spreading inside. Remove some of your luxury add-ons and you'll have the space to rework a proper defensive structure, as well as more protection for whatever energy source you choose."
The cyborg's pride was wounded, but hearing constructive criticism rather than mere insults and accusations did ground her enough to simply roll her eyes.
"Whatever. I don't need the approval of a guy who wears a lab coat with no shirt to do my thing. I'm the best technician in these parts, and my apprentices and I are your best shot at getting anything done without getting a blackout or an electrocution."
Her two oldest neighbors reluctantly gave up on their recent vow. She wasn't wrong, even if occasionally things did catch fire or produced sparks. Not to mention the trio had a good relationship and had agreed on lowering their fees when dealing with one another. Motiro needed resources to protect their nest and feed the pack while Mesker would rather spend his money for his experiments than make sure his fridge wouldn't explode. If worst came to worst, he could just go back to his previous appliances of enchanted objects. They were wasteful and had the nasty habit of tainting everything with odd smells and tastes, but they worked.
Two dark tendrils rising from the neighboring shadows hit one another in an odd clap, and all present turned to Silhouette.
"If everyone is done with pleasantries and sowing the seeds of discord, I did not simply call you here for an introduction to the good doctor. I have something I hope some of you can help me with. Behold."
More tentacles moved and deployed what had at first appeared to be a strange rolled-up carpet, but revealed itself to be a strange and alien lifeform, somewhat similar to a cross between a ray and a jellyfish and whose underside acted as some sort of invisibility veil.
The reactions were mixed. Marie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the body, Motiro's dot-like nostrils flared as its claws flexed from its fingertips, and Mesker hummed in appreciation, lightly pulling at his beard.
"What's that, a failed invisibility cape?"
"No, cyborg. This is a kill, a fresh one at that. A prey not of this realm."
"Indeed, this is a beast that does not belong to this realm."
"Allow me to elaborate: I struck down this creature while in Zalcien, and I believe it might be the infamous Nightsnatcher. It showed no sign of sapience, though it had some animal intelligence in the way it tried to hunt."
"Nightsnatcher? The thing that even the Union can't find? You're sure, dark lord? No offense, but if the big buys couldn't catch it, how could you?"
"He told, Musaraigne. The beast hunted him, not the other way around."
"Yes. Many a predator meet their end not by another's fangs but by the struggle of their prey. It likely noticed the danger the Heroes posed, but failed to see the same in you, shadow."
"While I am thankful for your feedback, these are things I'm already aware of. Could any of you tell me more on what this creature could be, and where it might have come from?"
"What are you looking at me for? Weirdos like that aren't in my portfolio."
"Its scent. It is a predator, but no master of its territory, marked by death but also fear. A nomad, ever moving, ever hunting. Its body... This is a lost lamb, separated from the pack, no, the school."
"Like fish?"
"Yes. Strength in numbers, both to eat and not be eaten. But this one... You said it attacked alone? Then its kin isn't here. It would have joined them otherwise."
"Thank you, Motiro. Mesker, what of you?"
"Yes, yes, I expected myself to be your true target. I might have to alter my prices if you keep on calling me to be your magical guide. Still, I believe I can help. This entity's morphology would make it either spatial, eldritch, or abyssal and thanks to Motiro's analysis, I can narrow this down. Abyssals rarely form groups, and that white skin further drives me away from this hypothesis. Yes, I believe what we have here is a bottom feeder of the void, though whether that is the emptiness of space or the hollow between realities still eludes me."
"Couldn't you analyze its mana? Is that not what you did with me?"
"Who do you take me for, an acolyte? I already did. Sadly, creatures of these spaces tend to naturally block such scrying. All manners of detection grow much more effective when the regular senses are useless, and the means of hiding do so as well. The bizarre properties its maw shows lead me to think it is eldritch. It would take a much more developed examination to be sure. With my tools. And my rituals."
"I get the message. Since you're the only one with a clear idea, sure, I'll entrust it to you. There is something else I'd like for us to discuss when you come back with the results."
It was about time James finally got proper magic lessons.