Axel
Tuesday, 1st of March, 199 A.C, 17:00
“You have been cordially invited to Veridian Academy’s annual celebration of scientific progress and cultural impact. This day-long event recognizes the hard work and accomplishment of our faculty, students, and alumni. Members of the VA community change the world every day, and that includes you! So kick back and enjoy as we show our appreciation for the people that make VA the most prestigious university in Spark.” - Letter from VA’s high office of campus affairs
Geoff and I made slow half-circles around each block. He took the counterclockwise arc while I took the clockwise one, splitting up to cover ground faster. We had our eyes open for any sign of Psychons, which we were to report upon confirmation.
As Kent put it, it was boring work but important all the same. We were helping with cleanup work so that everyone else could spend the new year putting their losses to rest or toasting their survival.
We finished our routes without incident and bumped forearms. I complimented his putting in so many hours for this, to which he replied that the same could be said for me.
“That reminds me,” he said, sitting down on the pavement to massage his leg, “are you sure about that donation? I’m sure they’ll appreciate it, but you earned that money fair and square.”
He was referring to Kylie and Steph, the two Soul of Spark members who I had watched almost get killed last night, and whose medical bills I was paying with my share of the wall guarding money. They didn’t need to know how much more I was getting paid because I was Veiled.
“They need it more than I do,” I replied. “I mean, that’s why we’re all here, right? Mutual aid?”
Geoff furrowed his brow. “Even so, that’s just too much.” He looked me in the eyes and, apparently recognizing an earnesty in them, let out one of his deep-bellied chortles. “Hey, I won’t stop you.”
After a moment of silence, he gave off one of those thunderous sighs that only dads are capable of, then got up and patted me on the back. “You’re good people, Axel.”
I didn’t know about that. I decided to reply with, “I do my best, Geoff.”
“Well,” Geoff grunted, “I should be getting back. Gotta slap some dinner together for Rachel.”
I nodded. “I think I’ll stay out a bit longer, cover a few more blocks.” We were not too far from Impulse’s safehouse, I noticed. That would be a natural endpoint for me.
Geoff started off. “Stay safe now, ya hear?” We waved and went our separate ways.
The going was slower now that I had to make a full circle around each block. The sun dipped below the horizon a few minutes in, forcing me to work off of Chipper light instead. Not exactly ideal circumstances, but I kept trudging along. It was very tempting to just say screw it and hop over to the safehouse, but I wasn’t about to go back on my word over something as trivial as an evening walk.
The safehouse finally came into view ahead. It stood out, the only house on the block with the lights on. The critical side of me figured that was a security risk, but the tired side was just happy to be done for the day. My eyes were sternly reminding me that I hadn’t slept since yesterday afternoon.
A sound made me stop. There was a scratching coming from the building next to me, two away from the safehouse. It sounded like a large rodent picking through trash inside. I got low and crept closer, my adrenal glands wringing out the fumes of the fumes from last night.
Someone could optimistically call the building a house. Its wooden planks had long since rotted, leaving a caved-in second story and the *idea* of the front steps and porch. The door was, miraculously, still on its hinges, but its days of staying closed had long since passed.
I carefully tested each step to make sure I wouldn’t fall through the floor. Following the scratching sound, I passed a ruined kitchen and turned right to see a set of stairs leading down.
Of course it would be hanging out in the basement. Because what I really needed right now was some Halloween nonsense.
I kept the beam from my Chipper trained on the stairs as I made my descent. Several steps were missing, and several more squished down as I plied them. Not wanting to take any risks, I was often forced to take two or three at a time.
Still, I touched down on the concrete floor without breaking anything. The air was thick down here, but disturbed. A film of dust blanketed storage shelves and exercise equipment, and yet several trails had been cut through the floor, footprints and handprints that were from something not quite human.
I trepidly turned the corner, bracing myself for a fight.
Something was there, in the middle of the room, hunched over a collection of small carcasses — rats, squirrels, and the like. Most had been picked clean, and the few that still had flesh clinging to their bones were made quick targets for the *thing’s* feeding.
It looked up and froze as my Chipper’s light landed on it, half of a squirrel corpse in its mouth and the other half in its hands. It was… a hard being to classify. It was clearly a sort of Psychon, from the dark, misty substance making up its body, but something in my gut was refusing to define it as one. It couldn’t be a shade, despite its humanoid appearance. It was too… detailed for that.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
It was small, but not childlike. It wasn’t *adultlike* either for that matter. It had a long, matted head of hair with feathers intertwined, the kind you’d see on a crow or raven. Outcroppings of similar feathers ran in patches across its body. Blood trickled from its fingers and down its chin as it stared at me with eyes that were all black, save for red irises that I could have sworn glowed in the dark.
I inched my hand down towards my pocket. I couldn’t tell if it was mesmerized by the light or by my face, but regardless it made no movements as I got a hold of my knife and slowly brought it out.
City regulations suggested that I call the Watch in a situation like this. Not being a huge fan of privately owned cops myself (and not wanting to risk them confiscating my knife), I would prefer to message Impulse. But… I could deal with one Psychon without my Veil, right? I had done it before.
The sight of the blade broke the Psychon’s trance. It darted to the left and melted into the shadows. I swung my Chipper’s beam around but only revealed a rusted treadmill. Bringing my knife arm out as a deterrent, I sidestepped my way closer, keeping my back against the wall.
A crash came from behind. I spun as the thing let out a gurgled shout and lunged for me. It bit down on my forearm and knocked me to the ground, sending sharp waves of pain up my arm. I instinctively went to activate my Veil’s healing, forgetting that I had left it at the safehouse this morning.
My instinct from fighting Lupi was to get its teeth out of me stat, but, strangely, as soon as I hit the ground it loosened its jaw and let go. I prepared to kick it off when it went for another attack, but that second strike never came. Instead it pushed up my sleeve and stared at the wound it had made — a round ring of puncture marks, like a human bite if most of the teeth were canines — with a countenance I had never seen from a Psychon. Maybe it was the humanlike face letting me read more into the expression, but I noticed a patient curiosity in the way it tilted its head and watched the blood well up from the holes in my skin.
My own curiosity got the better of me. I could have easily stuck at it with my knife, but instead I waited to see what it would do next. My arm was throbbing, but already the pain was subsiding.
When it was satisfied with the amount of blood coming out of me, it nervously bent its head down and began to slurp it up. It was a strange experience, made stranger by the realization that I had never actually properly studied what Psychon ‘skin’ felt like. I had, as a rule, tried to minimize my physical contact with the beasts, and even on the one occasion I had been pinned to a Taurus, I was too zonked out on my Veil for my brain to register the texture.
It was like someone had taken a cloud and squashed it down until it was a mostly solid substance. I could hardly call it wet though, other than the blood that was getting in the way. It was more so that it didn’t feel all there, or maybe that it didn’t feel like it *should* be there. And yet it was.
The bleeding slowed and it drew back, getting off of me and sitting down in a strange perch that gave the impression that it wasn’t used to its legs. It looked up at me with a lowered head and slightly furrowed expression. Was that… guilt?
I put my knife away — slowly, so that I wouldn’t spook it — and pulled my sleeve back down, putting pressure on the wound with my hand. The thought occurred to me that letting a creature already covered in blood contaminate a lesion was a great way to get an infection. Hopefully soap and water would do the trick.
“You’re just hungry, aren’t you?” My voice surprised me, and it clearly had an effect on the Psychon (was it a Psychon?) because it skittered back a good half meter.
“Hey,” I continued, trying to wrangle my dry throat into something soft, “I don’t want to hurt you. If you don’t want to hurt me, anyway.”
The thing tilted its head again and studied my lips. I couldn’t tell if it understood what I was saying, but it was listening at least.
“Okay,” I tried, “How about this? I” — I gestured towards myself — “will get” — I did a little walking man figure with my index and middle finger — “you” — I gestured towards it — “more food” — I put a hand to my mouth and pretended to chew. “Ok?” I put my thumbs up and nodded.
It stared at me blankly. Hmm.
I pointed to me, then to the pile of bones, then did a sort of piling motion with my hands.
The thing looked to me, then to the pile, then back at me. It considered something for a while, then mimicked my thumbs up and nod. Its attempt to smile could… use some work, but I appreciated the effort.
“Ok,” I said, nodding without the thumbs up. I rose, half expecting it to attack me now that my guard was down. Thankfully, it simply watched as I walked to the stairs, and returned my wave as I took the first step.
That was… strange, I thought. Even stranger was that I fully intended to follow through on my promise. If I remembered correctly, there was some leftover chicken in the safehouse fridge. I would just have to get it out without raising suspicion. And then get some sleep. Holy *shit* I was tired.
***
Sable
There was an envelope on the kitchen counter. I hadn’t put it there. My servant hadn’t put it there.
No delivery address, nor return address. On the back, a green wax seal was the only indicator of its origin. Stamped into the seal was a tree with three branches. VA’s emblem.
I picked up the envelope and brought it to the table so I could sit down while I opened it. I was still wobbly on my feet from the loss of blood, even a couple days after New Year’s Eve as it was, and I didn’t want to risk a fall.
Once I was properly seated, I popped the seal open and carefully took out the envelope’s contents. Other than a neatly folded letter, there was a bundle of admission tickets to their annual gala. The paper was mostly redundant, congratulating me on the invitation and babbling about the event, which was nothing but a glorified PR booster.
I would have not given the letter a second thought had there only been one ticket. Well, I might have tightened up security in a vain attempt to get VA to stop breaking in whenever they sent a missive, but other than that. I counted ten tickets however, and each was labeled with the moniker of an Impulse member.
So that was their play.
I tucked the paper and tickets back into the letter. I could simply pretend that I hadn’t received anything, but I supposed the invitation wasn’t an optional request. No, this would be our next hurdle as a squad. Not some big monster or mercenary company, I thought with a sigh, but *corporate politics*.
Joy.
End of Part 2