5/19/54
ALEXANDER GALDUR
The tide of monsters washed over our forces. Discordant screams echoed from everywhere, but my eyes were fixed on Max as he was submerged. Suddenly, the air distorted like waves in a tight beam of magic. It struck the center of the spiders’ swarm before a shockwave of sound turned nearly every monster into a messy splatter on the ground.
I was thrown back, taking Deimos with me to the ground. We lay there in a groaning mess of limbs before wobbling to our feet. My head was a bell and it was ringing. Doubles swam through my vision as I swayed over to Max. He was there, pinpricks of blood covering him from numerous bites. Already, some were beginning to swell, no doubt the spiders’ venom having been enhanced with magic.
I was pushed aside by a sudden stampede of medic and healer-types. They attended to Max before any others being he was the first one to get caught in the sudden spider-wave. Magic was quickly employed with Anna being one of the people working on him. The warmth of her fire made my ears tingle as the ringing subsided. Whatever cuts and scrapes that had been accrued quickly sealed up as well, the feeling calming in my monumental panic.
Breaking from my stupor, I leapt up, letting a wild rush of light fill me, and I landed next to Anna. She looked momentarily surprised, but she kept her focus and continued healing Max. Anna had always been the kind, warm, and smiling face of our group, but her serious expression and the series of floating embers swirling around her made her seem like someone else. The flames suddenly all launched forward and attached themselves to Max. His wounds healed over rapidly, and a black liquid began oozing from each of his bites. His pained expression softened, becoming peaceful and calm. Anna reported on his condition.
“He’ll be out for a while and delirious even longer. Lucas, you should go with Deimos. Let us medics do our job.”
I was still holding onto Max’s hand, “No, I-I need to stay with him! What if- what if something like before happened again! I need to stay and protect him.”
She became indecisive between deciding whether to let me stay with my friends or whether to send me away. Before she could speak, however, a warm, swollen hand came to hold onto my arm weakly. Max, one eye swelling shut, mumbled in his delirium, “No… Not me… Find her. Help… her.”
Her?
“Her who? Max, who needs help?” I asked in my panic, hands shaking while holding onto him, his body limp and hot in my arms.
Clumsily, he began to write on my arm in his ink. Instead of his runes, he wrote down an address. He slipped a key into my hand before his hand lost its strength and fell, his eyes shutting with them. I read it and nodded. If I couldn’t help Max with his condition, then I could at least do him a favor.
----------------------------------------
Max didn’t live in the dorms; he lived in a rented apartment in Oak Park Townhomes. It had a pool, a gym, and seemed like it shouldn’t be able to be afforded by someone who was barely considered an adult. I was with Deimos, him wanting to follow me to act as a voice of support and reason. When we found his door we only took a moment before opening it. The inside was nice: basic apartment furniture with Max’s knickknacks lying around to give the place some flavor. Strangely enough, hair was everywhere; I didn’t realize Max shed so much.
Wandering around the apartment, there were a few odd items that stood out. Some oddly colorful toys filled a basket in the corner, and next to it was a small… bed-like pillow thing. A scratched up piece of shaggy furniture shaped almost like a tree was next to it, and there was a shocking amount of hair there. The hair was black and white; did Max have gray hair already? Maybe he has Graves’ disease. In a different corner was a box full of what looked like sand with a noisome odor radiating in an area around it.
All of this was odd, but what was concerning was the look of tension and worry on Deimos’ face.
We were still looking at all of Max’s weird paraphernalia, but a sound came from behind us. A caterwaul. After all this time bounty hunting and facing off against animals, something in my brain just switched on, and I crossed the apartment in record time. With a kick, the door flung open and Max’s bedroom was revealed. Still adhering to the basic, clean aesthetic of the apartment, there on the bed, something small and fuzzy was stretching. A cute little black and white cat.
It was furry, but all the fuzz was standing on-end with my sudden intrusion. Its mouth was frozen in the middle of a yawn, its sleek, white fangs on display. I didn’t know what kind of magic it had and I don’t want to know; I’ll put it down before it’ll get the chance to fight back. I was in the air, descending, lightning and light trailing behind me as I prepared to slam down onto the beast.
“Alex, wait!” Deimos yelled, an illusionary clone suddenly appearing before me with hands jutted forward.
“Why?” I asked, landing with my fist still raised, electricity crackling from my weapon.
Deimos’ clone sat on the bed next to the cat. Why? Why would he stop me? It’s a monst-
“It’s not a monster.” Deimos said, interrupting my thought.
I looked between his true self and the cat, “What are you talking about?”
“It’s not a monster. It’s just an animal; no mutations. Yet.” He added at the end.
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve had this feeling ever since we’ve come here. The toys, the scratching post-”
“What’s a scratching post?”
He ran a hand through his hair, “Something pet owners buy, Alexander!”
“... What’s a pet owner?” I ventured. I didn’t get the best education and it’s not the kind of thing I like to flaunt about.
“A pet… A pet is an animal that someone takes care of and cares for. It’s extremely illegal. A pet owner is the owner of a pet. Look at all the toys, the small bed, the damn scratching post! Max is a pet owner, and he’s taking care of that.” Deimos ranted, agitation eating at him.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
I looked from the cat to Deimos to the cat to Deimos, “Max… committing a crime? You-you can’t be serious. I once watched that guy apologize for hitting someone in sparring, and you’re saying he’s a criminal?”
“I know, I know, but… Alexander, look around. You can’t deny it.” He said, a conflicted glint in his eyes.
I was silent. Max, a criminal? There’s no way. There’s no way! He’s a good person and too afraid to do anything bad! He’s not one to put people in danger. I once saw him cry over an ancient movie called Old Yeller!
… That movie was about a dog. A pet.
4/22/54
Max was sobbing. Anna, Max, and I were enjoying a movie night after a particularly successful hunt, and she happened to have a movie called Old Yeller. It was… sad. Max is a very emotional and empathetic person, so if it was sad to me, to him, it’d be devastating. And it was.
Anna put a hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay, Max. Just, cry it all out, ‘kay?”
I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just said, “Want to talk about something; take your mind off of it?”
He shook his head, “No, *hic* n-no. I-I-I’m okay. It’s just… so sad. That poor boy. It must be so lonely to lose someone close to you. He must be so lonely.”
My heart froze in my chest. I placed a sad hand on his unoccupied shoulder.
5/19/54
“He’s lonely.”
“What?” Deimos said, looking up from his cold sweat.
“Max. He’s lonely. This cat… this must be his way of keeping some company.”
“That’s… That does sound like him.” Deimos conceded, the stress oozing out of him as he collapsed in a chair.
“... So what do we do now?” I asked.
Deimos was quiet. Contemplative. He sighed before answering, “We’ll stay quiet. We wait for Max to come back, and we start getting some answers.”
----------------------------------------
We returned to the subway where DME workers were still cleaning up the aftermath of the fight. Cages rattled with enraged monsters struggling against their new bonds. With every slam against their confines, a crystal and a surrounding array made of crystal powder that was etched into the metal glowed brightly to reinforce the cages. People had similar restraints that would produce magical retaliation if any of them acted out.
I weaved through the throngs of prisoners and guards, Deimos close behind, and I came upon the medical tents. I ducked inside and looked for Max. He was among a group of people that all looked inflicted with some toxin. Some had puffy blue lips and extremities while others were sanguine and feverish. Max fell in the latter category as he moaned and groaned like a bibulous college student.
“Hey, Anna.”
Anna, who had been tending to Max and a few others, turned around. Her face was covered in a concerning amount of blood that was all concerning colors. Plural. It looked like she’d just slit the pride flag’s throat.
“Lucas? You’re back?”
I walked next to her and Max, Deimos by my side, “Yeah. We went to his apartment; we couldn't find anything. It must’ve just been the delirium.”
She nodded, “Sounds about right. You should probably check in with the Captain, you know. Max won’t be up for at least a day, and you should go get paid.”
“Alright.” I said, sending one last glance at Max. When we left, we didn't need to look around too much for Captain DuBauer. On a stack of boxes, she was sending orders around, her voice booming while directing people back and forth. She caught sight of me and yelled, “You! Over here!”
I complied, swiftly marching over. She pulled out a booklet, wrote some things in it, and ripped out a check. She handed it to me and said, “Alright. Your job’s done here for now. Once you give your after action report, you’ll be dismissed.”
It was all so quick—the after action, the medical check ups, the being ushered about—that I only managed to absently nod along and leave, Deimos no longer following me as he had his actual job to do now. He said that I should head home—process what just happened. Now that he said it, I noticed a numbness at everything happening. Deep inside me it felt like a hastily constructed dam was holding back a torrent of emotions. The sunlight was blinding.
On the way to the dorms, between the people, bodies lay. One particularly gruesome death saw a DME worker gutted like a fish. His face was mutilated, but at a glance, he looked concerningly like Max. A Zoo worker with fiery red hair was impaled on a glass spear that had been driven through her chest and into the ground. A man with almond skin had holes riddled in him. The shadows obscured the details of their faces.
I changed course from the dorms. I needed to do something. I don’t feel like being around the dorm right now. Besides, I needed to go by the bank anyway and cash-in that check.
It was a quick trip there, and when I was done, I felt hollow once more.
… There was one place I could go. If relaxing left me feeling bad, then the answer is to just not relax. There was somewhere real easy to lose oneself in their work, afterall. It’s time to punch some bounties’ noses through their fucking heads.
5/20/54
DEIMOS DUST
Yesterday was pretty busy. Today was worse. Yesterday was still when people felt shell-shocked from the battle, and thankfully the Captain wasn’t so hide-bound as to ignore that. Now, though, with twenty-four hours to have recovered, we were all totally better. Just… D. A. N. D. Y.
I grit my teeth while sorting out a pile of paperwork and answering inane questions as some sort of AAR two: electric boogaloo. Alexander was doing much the same. Of course, I assumed he was. Mercs and DME members were sorted into different areas.
He hasn't been around all that much since yesterday. When I got back, he wasn’t there, and by the time I woke up, he was collapsed on the couch. He was in his work attire still, a faint healing mist rolling off of him from his gear. Along with that, blood, his and someone—something—else’s, was dried across him. He also had fat wads of cash and his bounty hunter license on him, his star rating having been raised to two.
I was almost surprised to not see bottles of empty beer littered around because of how much he looked like a drunk having come home from a bar fight. I did notice that he bought a pair of “Raymond’s Bedazzled Lockpicks,” a famous competitor to the “Ryman’s Bedazzled Lockpicks” series. They were both notoriously expensive, so I wondered how many bounties did he take on during that time to afford them.
Before I could start pondering the pros and cons to each type of lockpick, a hand lightly tapped on my shoulder.
“Um, Mr. Dusk, sir. Anna Andrushko told me to come and get you. She wanted me to tell you that Maximillian Wells is awake.”
… Oh. Today just keeps. Getting. Better.