Very excited about some ideas I had yesterday while writing this chapter. Might have to go back and rework some earlier chapters so it will jive, but should be very cool overall. Remember to rate this fiction if you like it. And to let me know of anything I can improve upon. Been a long time since I've written for pleasure and I just want you to know I'm having a blast.
Chapter 3 - Meet Cute
As Volcano Croc sat buried in rubble, he heard a voice.
"OK, we're getting the hang of this. So orange is accelerate, soft is decelerate, sex is Decelerate Fast, green turns left, red doesn’t do squat, and now we know itchy makes us spin like a motherfucker. This is workable. Totally workable. Ideally we’d have figured out how to turn right by now, but fuck it, it’s still early days.”
Volcano Croc froze.
There was no way.
There was no freaking way.
Even if she had joined Midgard there were at least 666 other earths she could have ended up on. Probably more.
No way she had ended up on this one.
No way.
There was a hiss from above, and the sound of rubble shifting.
“Motherfuckers, we KNOW you’re not trying to interrupt our fucking flying practice. You're looking at a paladin of motherfucking justice, and we will fucking end you.”
Nope. That was her. The royal "We" was a dead givaway.
“Well,” he muttered to himself, “So much for playing big fish in the small pond. I wonder if she remembers me?”
Cecilia the White, universally known throughout Hel (but never where she could hear it) as “That White Bitch”, had been dropped onto Earth 667.
May god have mercy on their souls.
Volcano Croc would have been very surprised to learn the Cecilia wasn’t in fact the most famous Hel veteran to land in New London. He would have been even more surprised if he’d seen what that player was up to.
“”””
Earth 667 – New London – A Familiar Traffic Light
“”””
The man once known as Horde Slayer was delightedly sticking and unsticking his hands from each other.
“Fantastic!” he exclaimed.
He was still stuck to the traffic light, of course, but he felt his discovery that thinking about expensive toffee caused his hands to become magnetic was certainly a step in the right direction.
“City Hall, here I come.”
“”””
Earth 667 – New London – Industrial District
“”””
Shaman Dude was bored.
Shaman Dude had run out of things to hit.
With the enthusiastic help of the powertool wielding construction workers, the small group of molemen who had worked their way up the long, narrow pipe had been demolished quickly. Shaman Dude’s stick had been put to full use.
And now he was bored again. Shaman Dude hated being bored.
And this was very upsetting to Shaman Dude’s spirit companions, whom he had forgotten existed. They had quite enjoyed the rush of happiness they felt from him through their link during the fight. They didn’t at all like the feelings they were getting over the link now that the fighting was done.
They had a brief discussion amongst themselves, quickly inventing a language they could all understand. They discussed how nice they had felt a moment ago, and how bad they felt now.
They discussed what had changed, and eventually reached a conclusion.
They discussed what should be done, and eventually reached a conclusion.
Shaman Dude was taking a closer look at the drainage pipe, slowly talking himself into crawling in to see if there was something to hit.
He didn’t notice his spirit companions leave.
“”””
Earth 667 – New London - Far Enough Away From the Streetlight
“”””
Once she had judged herself far enough away from the man and the streetlight, Blue Mystery lost the molemen tailing her with very little effort. Frankly the most difficult part had been unfolding herself once they had passed her by. It took her over twenty minutes. She just couldn’t remember where everything went, and was discouraged to find what seemed to be several extra parts.
She ended up settling for “good enough” in her haste to get going. She resolved to smooth out (or at least artfully reposition) the lumps before she arrived at city hall. She was excited to talk to another player and didn’t want to make a bad impression.
So she was very upset when she lurched around a corner to find a ghostly otter leading a solid wall of molemen towards her.
“””””
The artificial intelligence currently swimming through the streets of New London wondered idly whether he and his brothers had gathered enough creatures to make their retarded brother’s mind sing again, or even whether the creatures had any correlation to the singing at all.
They had very little data to go on where his poor brother was concerned. Just a series of spikes in the singing that correlated with his making physical contact with similar creatures.
But it was more than enough to justify further testing.
“”””
Finally Free, Doctor Magnetism had not made it very far from his intersection, mostly due to the severed streetlight that still clung to his back. He was resolved to get the embarrassing lump of metal unstuck before he arrived at city hall. He was excited to meet another player and didn’t want to make a bad impression.
So he was very upset when she burst around a corner and started sprinting toward him in a literal jumble of arms and legs.
“I can explain!” he shouted in panic.
“Run!” she shouted in panic as she passed him.
Thinking back later, she would remark at how quickly he followed her order. There was no hesitation. He reacted as if that had been the plan all along, and he had only been waiting for her to give the word. He kept up with her with the easy grace of a man who was prepared to do so all day, despite the burden he carried.
Meanwhile, Blue Mystery was stumbling along on two left feet and, occasionally, an elbow.
“What are we running from?” he asked curiously.
“Ghost Otter and Molemen,” she replied, trying to keep her eyes facing forward.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Bitchin’” he replied. “How big is the otter?”
She looked at him out of the corner of what she was pretty sure was her left eye, wondering how his optimism had lasted this long in-game. “’bout normal otter size, but it’s got about a million molemen following it.”
“Seen molemen already. Not particularly worried about them. They couldn’t even hurt my pole.” He pointed over his shoulder toward the severed piece of metal adhering to his back, “I beat the pole they couldn’t beat. Ergo they can’t beat me. That’s logic.”
Blue Mystery was opening her mouth to tell him where he could shove his logic when they almost collided with a southbound spectral stag leading another group of molemen through an intersection.
Blue Mystery felt an uncomfortable tug as Doctor Magnetism calmly hooked her by one of her arms and spun her 90 degrees. She was moving in a new direction almost before she realized there had been any danger, and she wondered later just who her strange companion had been before joining Midgard.
“Let’s not get too far ahead this time,” said Doctor Magnetism. “I want to see where the stag is leading them.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because they’re trying to attack it, which I find interesting. And they’re failing, which I find even more interesting.”
“”””
The stag spirit had established a loose system to lead the molemen along. It had been very successful so far, and the artificial intelligence was quite proud of it, in its own mechanical way. It would wait for the molemen to catch up to it, then turn and kick one of them in the face. Then it would run forward about block in the direction it wanted them to go, before pausing to wait again.
For a while now it had been aware of two new presences following along slightly ahead of its herd. The stag was not interested in leading them to his retarded brother, so he did not kick them in the face when they passed nearby him (the artificial intelligence of the stag having loosely translated kicking someone in the face to mean “Hey, follow me!”).
Finally the stag arrived at the space they had left their retarded brother. Proudly leading a large horde of molemen and wondering whether his brother would sing again.
The stag was quite vexed to find his brother had wandered off somewhere.
“”””
“It seems pissed,” remarked Blue Mystery, watching the stag toss its head about.
“Sure does,” agreed Doctor Magnetism distractedly, “What do you suppose those construction workers are being so busy about?”
Blue Mystery noticed the group of workers for the first time. They certainly did seem to be very animatedly doing something in a group around a drainage pipe. Several of them appeared to be gradually letting the slack out of a rope.
“Looks like they’re lowering someone into that hole,” she hazarded.
“”””
The stag was pleased to see his poor brother hadn’t stumbled off far. But he was worried that his brother wouldn’t be able to see the gift he had brought if he was down in this hole. So he grabbed hold of one of the strips of non-brother that his retarded brother wrapped around himself and began to pull him towards the surface.
“”””
Shaman Dude was caught by surprise when he started being pulled back up the hole. He almost started to shout up at the workmen manning the rope before realizing he was being pulled up by his outfit, not the rope. One of the voices, which had become muted without his really noticing it, had come back with a vengeance. It babbled excitedly in his head, showing him pictures of sunlight and the smell of blood. He looked up toward the circle of blue at the top of the shaft, hearing panicked shouting beginning to break out, and then back at the ghostly stag pulling him skyward with its teeth.
“Good boy,” he said.
“”””
When the stag dove into the hole the molemen started lurching toward the group of construction workers.
“Well,” said Doctor Magnetism, placing himself between the horde and the workers. “Break is over, I guess. Time to prod buttock, as Gran used to say.”
“Your Gran sounds like a classy lady,” offered Blue Mystery, preparing herself.
“Oh my goodness no,” laughed Doctor Magnetism, “Horribly racist woman. Made the best ginger cookies I’ve ever eaten, but just an awful human being when you get right down to it.”
And then the molemen reached them, and there were no more words.
“”””
When Shaman Dude made it to the shaft entrance, he was surprised to find two other players already attacking his prey. He didn’t begrudge them the experience points, as they had been defending his construction workers, who he already viewed as his personal property. Also his stag seemed to have brought enough for everyone.
“”””
The stag watched his retarded brother race towards the gift he had brought, his mind singing brightly through their link. The stag gloried in the song for a moment, savoring its success.
The song was complex, chaotic even. Unbearably intense yet serenely flowing. Once again the song showed definite spikes whenever his poor brother made physical contact with one of the creatures. Even more interesting, though, were the tiny spikes in his brother’s song that occurred whenever his brother saw one of the other two presences make physical contact with a creature.
This gave the stag an idea. The boldest of the five spirits, the stag decided not to wait for his brothers’ arrival before testing its theory. It felt an almost naughty pleasure from acting without consensus, but the stag was allowed a certain level of autonomy if its brothers weren’t present, and it took advantage of that loophole by kicking a moleman in the face directly in Shaman Dude’s line of sight.
The stag was delighted when a huge spike in the song carried over his link, bigger than any he had ever felt before, and somehow whispered to the stag personally instead of shouted out to all the brothers indiscriminately. He shared his discovery with his brothers, most of whom who would be arriving with their own presents shortly.