I got to spend the evening with Spydalow, and it went as expected. You remember him, right? If you’ve seen that viral video of the insane parkour stunt or the one about the vigilante soloing a gang of heavies, it was one of his. Spydalow is THE Bleedcaster when it comes to clout. Every night he broadcasts his acts of parkour and vigilantism while his loyal patrons eat it up. Word on the net is that Spyda makes about six figures per broadcast and claims this is enough to keep the lights on and get him a nightly ramen meal. I found it hard to believe, but I stumbled upon how he made it work. Spydalow lived in a small cube apartment with barely enough room for two people; living a frugal life was how Spyda kept costs down, but, for some reason, Spyda kept this from his diehard subscribers. When pressed on this, Spydalow was mum. Much like his true identity, Spyda kept his spending habits close to the vest.

-OHLert w/Jenny Sampson; Bleedcast nightly.

Her face felt cold. Roxanne Belmonte stirred on a rough floor that felt like stone. She felt awful. The incoming pounding of her head signified a migraine and possibly a concussion. She was starting to lose count of them now; not good. Her eyes opened slowly; each orb took a moment to adjust to the light. In front of her, a stone wall came into focus.

How did I get here? She thought. Her hands felt cold. She tried to use them to help her sit up, and they clanged against the floor. That’s not how that sounds, and she looked down at her arms. Roxanne found her hands encased in metal that went up to her elbows.

“Aw man, for real?!” Roxanne huffed as she adjusted herself. Whatever wrapped around her arms shined brightly and reflected her face at her; Roxanne thought she looked like hell. Her bright red hair was displaced and went off in multiple directions while her bronze face sported marks; was that a bruise? Her face tattoo—two black arrowheads above her right eyebrow and one below her right eyelid—hid it decently but having a bruise on her face was a huge bummer.

Priorities, she told herself. You’re in a strange place; how about some focus?

Roxanne took a second to breathe and tried to make sense of her surroundings. She was in a stone room; that much was obvious. A heavy door on her right and simple horizontal bars made of iron kept her locked tight. Beyond her cage, up ahead, was another; that one shared the space with a similar cell adjacent to it. Roxanne imagined that it continued like so for her side as well. She attempted to contact Azonne, her AI companion and partner but felt nothing.

As if it were never there.

Good time to panic, she thought.

Roxanne glanced down and was relieved to see her uniform was still on. The orange armor that made up her chest was a welcome site, as was the white oval in the center. These were positive signs. She tried wiggling her fingers within the bonds to see if she could feel if the rings were still on her finger, but there wasn’t enough clearance to decide one way or another.

Roxanne sighed. The tickle in the back of her mind, a sensation that indicated a connection with her predecessors, was dulled. It was an eternal state of euphoria that only existed along the ends of the hairs on her arms. Now? Barely a vibration. Roxanne again let out a long exaggerated breath. How the hell did this happen? I was on my way to Old Earth last I checked.

By her count, it had been a year since everything with Wes Gibson went down, the so-called ‘Black Zero Incident.’ Roxanne got chosen to wield the most Powerful Weapons in the Universe, while her best friend—Wes, as mentioned above—had been conscripted to be her eternal enemy. These so-called weapons were a pair of golden rings known as The Cyntaf. These rings channeled energy collected at the dawn of time and were passed down throughout the ages until given to Roxanne.

Roxanne spent her time post-Black Zero back on Izanami and became more acquainted with her abilities. She had wholly put off telling grandmother what she was planning to do and where she was planning to go once the dust settled. Honestly? Roxanne had been putting off the trip as a whole. Was she going to Old Earth? Roxanne was afraid of what she would—or likely wouldn’t—find in that place.

Such an unknown scared her.

She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to meet her parents, never mind how likely such a thing would be.

Regardless, Roxanne gave herself a deadline. She knew herself; without a date set in stone, she’d meander forever. So it had been settled in her mind, ready or not, Roxanne was leaving the planet on that day, period; end of story; no takebacks. So the day came, all packed up and set to go; Roxanne had every avenue checked except for one: She had never told Millie. That grandmother was less than pleased was putting it charitably.

Roxanne was almost glad about the kerfuffle; she primed to use that as an excuse to shut it all down. Guess I’m not going, oh well! But Roxanne underestimated Grandmother. Millie resigned to let Roxanne go because she felt she had little choice in the matter. From her perspective, Roxanne was headstrong, and it was almost impossible to change when she set her mind on something.

Roxanne put on a brave face and accepted Grandmother’s decision, even if she wasn't sure why she wasn’t looking forward to it.

The trip to earth became somewhat of a sightseeing one, as being the latest ring-bearer had her bombarded by distress calls that she wasn’t sure she could ignore, so she didn’t. Millions of worlds, stars, and civilizations lay in the expanse between Izanami and Earth; hard to forget that too. She also told herself it was necessary, for altruistic reasons, of course, because the more she used her abilities, the better she got at it.

Pretty soon, most things were second nature, and Azonne quickly offered praise. Roxanne’s companion took the form of her direct predecessor, who sacrificed herself to save Izanami. Partially an AI and source of power, it used Azonne’s visage and her memory to honor her. It strengthened their bond with Roxanne and allowed Azonne a place in the pantheon beyond being just another in a long line of billions.

The distractions were many for Roxanne, but she welcomed them. The chance to elongate the trip because she was still nervous was very appealing. What if everyone there was dead? News from OE was almost nil for a decade. Was there actually a point to going there, or was it purely a selfish endeavor?

Not long after she was born, her parents gave her to their parents to take her to Izanami; humanity had left Earth in droves over 900 years before. The why was a long story, but it was in her best interest. Old Earth was supposedly little more than a tribal wasteland at the time; who knows how it has fared since she was born? With keeping in touch impossible, her grandparents could only offer vague hopes that they were still alive. Roxanne always aimed to find out, and now that she bore the mantle, she could, but the closer she got, the more her anxiety grew. The questions she asked herself became more uncomfortable. Eventually, she started going out of her way to answer distress calls, or better yet, she just stopped at a planet to get to know a local population.

Most civilizations had their own myths and stories regarding the mantle, so she was highly regarded or thoroughly worshipped on such trips. It was a coin flip where each one landed, but she actively rooted against the outcome that included ceremonious worship. Those were the most burdensome visits to pull off. Eventually, finally, Roxanne decided to stop putting it off. Indeed, the next jump would be to earth, as it’d been long enough. The memory was clear as day. She opened a gate into The Bleed like she usually did; her powers made that Childs play.

But then, nothing.

Until now, somehow in a stone prison, sulking on a stone floor, feeling like a GravCar had smashed into her no less than 50 times. Roxanne tried to stand; shackled like this made it awkward. Feeling no connection to Azonne made her heartbeat rapid. She hasn’t felt this alone in, well, in a year at least.

It was hard for her to remember life before being chosen. She was just a smart kid; gifted but lazy was how it went. She hated that. She wasn’t lazy. She just had trouble giving a crap. It was not the same thing. If only they could see me now.

Roxanne heard the sound of metal hitting on stone. Someone, or something, was marching toward her. She gasped inwardly when the figure came into frame. It was at least 10 feet tall and wide as a GravCar to boot. It had a humanoid body type and wore bulky, heavy armor around its chest, shoulders, forearms, and shins. The arms and legs were unarmored but clad in black fabric and relatively skinny, like branches on a tree trunk. It wore a helmet with large green rounded glass eyes. The shape of the helmet was insectile and reminded Roxanne of a mantis.

She tried searching her memories for maybe some Intel on the creature but drew a blank. The lack of answers forced her to flinch. She felt empty, so bereft of her connection. The creature clicked at her; was it trying to talk? She stared up at it from her cell and wondered what this thing expected from her.

As if to read her thoughts, a broadcasted voice said: “Step back!”

Roxanne cocked an eyebrow. The voice emanated from the creature but came off more like a recording. She decided to comply and took a single step back. The cell door raised open. The creature clicked some more, and the voice spoke again:

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“The prisoner will walk!” Roxanne eyed it cautiously before the guard stepped back to give her room to pass.

“Come!” the voice bellowed, louder. Roxanne hung on to what little of her composure she had left and did as commanded. She stepped out of the cell. An orange glow forced her to squint her eyes. The hall was an arched walkway with lamps hanging every few feet. On either side of her were cells, all empty. She could see just more hallway up ahead, followed by a change of direction.

The creature gave her a shove on her back; the hand was massive and almost caused her to fall over. She picked up her pace but had a huff about it. They came to a T junction, and another similar creature awaited her. It pointed to her right; she turned right. There was a din seeping through the stone walls, like a low rumble.

“Listen,” Roxanne started. “What is this all about? Where am I?”

More clicking. “The prisoner will be silent!”

“Or what?” She glanced behind her. “Gonna kill me before you plan to?” What did she have to lose? There was little doubt she wasn’t marching to her death right now. She looked down at the clamps around her arms. She could barely feel if the rings were still there. No room to shift or wiggle, but maybe…

She closed her eyes.

She could feel something faint. Distant, but there. It toyed with her just by being there. She could taste it like a thirsty person in the middle of an oasis. The din grew louder, forcing her to open her eyes. They were coming to an opening, and it became clear what that sound was.

It was a crowd.

They had emerged into a coliseum. Thousands of similar-looking creatures stood jam-packed and on their feet all around Roxanne. There were all kinds, some armored like her escorts, others not. Roxanne’s skin crawled; she felt like she had just walked into a hive. The din had become a constant buzzing that chilled her to the bone.

The fluttering sounds of the wings some of them possessed had her clench inwardly. Still, she couldn’t help but stare at the whole thing. This arena was a vast bowl-type stadium, not all that functionally different from the kind used in her world for sporting events. Stuff like that never ceased to amaze her, the similarities many disparate cultures seemed to have. Thus far, it had been her experience that most sentient species in the galaxy share common physiology: upright, bipedal; it was the same here. In some way, it created an uncanny valley effect for her.

Here were these seemingly humanoid creatures with bug faces and insectile wings. At this point, she wondered if she’d ever get non-plussed about it. Would it ever be old hat or boring? It felt strange to consider the future when stuck in an alien world, seemingly powerless—and most likely getting escorted to your execution—but Roxanne found it helpful.

At the other end of the stadium lay a seating section different from all the others. The unit’s ornately crafted outer shell had carved-in swirls and etched-in symbols. It stood higher than all the other seats, with a balcony that fed into an enclosed area. On this platform were two guards, both spitting images of the ones that currently escorted Roxanne toward the center of the dirt field.

Behind the balcony guards were two other beings; one was seated. Roxanne could say nothing about it besides that the figure was hooded and not even looking at her. The other was armored in a similar style to the guards, but with massive round shoulder armor and large chest pieces. The orange armor felt familiar to Roxanne. It resembled hers in many ways, but it wasn’t that alone—something tugged at her mind. A white half-circle is chiseled on the chest, with three carved triangles underneath it.

Why was it so familiar?

What was this place?

The big one held up a hand, and the crowd grew silent. It looked sharp, like two claws with an opposable digit. To Roxanne, it looked like the middle, ring, and pinky fingers had fused while the thumb and index finger were free and prominent. A golden band sat on the giant claw, and Roxanne’s chest tightened. That couldn’t be what she thought it was. The monster stepped up in the box, coming to the edge and towering further over its guards. A dark red cape hung off the back of the armor, and the glass bubble eyes of its mask were orange rather than green. The bottom half of the creature was similarly armored, with an elaborate boot design. On the other claw, too, was a golden band.

“This is the pretender,” it said, loudly broadcast throughout the arena. It sounded as manufactured as the last; were they doing this for her?

“She mocks the symbol of my house!” It continued. “It travels around out there, pretending to carry on MY lineage. She mocks us…,” the air filled with buzzing; they wanted her to know what they thought of her. Roxanne bit her bottom lip. She wasn’t a fan of where this speech seemed to be heading.

She started taking in the rest of her surroundings. She was so preoccupied with the crowd that she didn’t notice all that befell her. Bones, of what kind she couldn’t say, lie scattered throughout. Dried blood darkened patches of dirt in every direction. Even burn marks scorched into the walls told their own stories. This place was where things came to die.

“Should we destroy it?” In unison, the crowd holds their claws vertically, a sign of approval. “Or should we play with it?” The talons went up again.

With a sound, Roxanne’s clamps disengaged from her arms. They detached with a hiss of air and fell uselessly to the ground in front of her. Roxanne shot a look skyward; she could feel that tickle again. She rocketed to the sky and reached out mentally for Azonne. They would know what to do. It could give her a battle plan, a strategy to call on, a skill she could use, things learned by all her predecessors that now lived on in her.

But there was nothing.

Still, something was wrong.

The creature leaped from its box and charged her, blasting her out of the sky with an energy beam. Roxanne hit the ground hard and kicked up a plume of dirt and debris. Before the blast connected with her protective hard-light aura, she noticed the beam emanating directly from the golden band around its index claw.

It was hard to tell at a distance, but with everything else she was feeling—and considering what it had said—it seemed to her that this creature had its own set of rings. The energy even felt familiar when it collided with her, but it couldn’t be the same, could it? Had Azonne kept something from her? She had little time to parse these questions as the armored giant sent another plume of energy toward her. She rolled out of harm’s way; the beam pierced the ground and spat another wave of dirt.

It felt strange to her. Some things were coming naturally to her while other things weren’t. These were things she had done before, she realized. Somehow she was cut off from the sight, so it made sense. She couldn’t access new abilities because Roxanne hadn’t built the muscle memory. So she would have to rely on what she had already done, what her body knew how to do, and she would need every bit of it right now.

Roxanne lept to her feet and rifled herself toward the armored creature. The HUD in her peripheral vision offered little information beyond her racing heart rate. She threw a punch, and the monster swatted it aside quickly; she was telegraphing. She tried producing a strand of light to harden and attack with, but she was too slow. The creature had shot her point-blank with unholy plasma and sent her crashing right back down to the ground below.

She has had easier fights.

Her mind spun. Being so cut off was throwing her for a loop. She felt less like the mantle bearer—the wielder of the most potent weapons in the universe—and more like the supposedly lazy nobody, just like everyone thought she was. The armored being landed a few feet from her with thunder. She stood up slowly and assumed a fighting stance, the name she couldn’t recall. The thing looked at her with a closed-out posture, head to the side.

“Are you ashamed?” It asked.

[https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/939246405011251231/1027239396136722493/IMG_20220920_114047.jpg?width=464&height=670]

Roxanne didn’t answer. She had things to say, things to ask, but she suspected that an answer would not be forthcoming. Roxanne pushed forward and threw a wide punch on purpose, hoping to slip in a sweep but, again, was off; too slow. She lacked confidence feeling so alone and on a limb. The creature let her punch zip past a mile wide and then grabbed the arm. It spun her to face him and, in a blink, unleashed a blast point-blank at her face. It sent her flying about ten feet, landing on a pile of discarded bones. The aura took the brunt of the force.

The only thing that hurt at this point was her pride.

Casually the creature strode up to her and held a hand in the air. The crowd seemed to know what that meant as they all held their claws down in unison. Even Roxanne could tell this probably meant nothing but bad things for her, but she got up anyway. If this were going to be the end, she would make them earn it.

The creature’s outstretched hand crackled with energy; Roxanne charged at it. She hardened her aura, rocketed straight on, and they collided. The force created a shockwave that sent a billowing wind throughout the crowd. The monster had stood its ground; it barely moved an inch. Roxanne floated there uselessly for seconds before deciding to strike with a point-blank blast of her own.

Finally, it staggered.

Feeling she had an opening, Roxanne’s confidence grew. She flew toward the creature and threw a quick punch, followed by two more. The giant took a step back with each thrown blow, one by one, before finally stabbing and snatching her by the hair. Roxanne screamed and slammed down to the ground. She stirred and attempted to get up but was shoved back with a boot almost the size of her torso. The giant kept its foot on her and played to the crowd. Their hand glowed brightly.

Welp. Roxanne shut her eyes; it was a good run.

There was a long second of silence, however. Roxanne opened one eye; the creature had paused. The other one from the luxury box was there beside him. It wore a hood that covered its facial features in total, but it was clearly of the same species. It stood beside the giant with a hand on its hip.

Somehow it was keeping the other one from smashing Roxanne to mulch. It wore a long white gown with ornate orange trim stitched into the fabric. Long white sleeves hung loose on their arms and covered their hands, while the dress draped to the ground and covered its feet. The giant glanced at the other figure with a nonexistent expression thanks to the helmet; its body language spoke of annoyance. It hunched over like it was sulking.

“This one would be more useful alive, don’t you think, my son?” The voice emanated from the creature itself, which took Roxanne by surprise. Maybe the real-time translating the ring typically did was fully functional now that she had limited access to her powers. “She could serve as a warning to those who mock you.”

“It’d serve just as easily dead!” The giant replied, the voice artificial same as before. So much for the real-time translation, Roxanne thought, more confused than ever.

“But wouldn’t you like to learn the depths of her imitation? Clearly, her rings are more than mere fakes.” The giant considered this for what felt like an eternity to Roxanne. If this was going to be her end, then she wished they had gotten it over with already. Eventually, the giant turned away, throwing its cape around it as a silent form of dismissal.

“Ugh, Very well! It shall live,” it stated. “For now.”

However, before Roxanne could register that she was free to try anything, the shackles had returned to her arms and clamped shut as if they had an agency of their own. Roxanne, forced to her feet by her old friend, the guard, noticed the one in the dress staring at her. Roxanne stared at them right back before finally asking the question that had been on her mind since first waking up:

“Where the hell am I?”

“You’re on Uzrath,” they said back. “Mind your tounge unless you want it cut off.”