“You think some nyctal just mAnAgEd to get know-how to build a ‘U.A.-’ uh … field propulsion craft? Amy asked.

Mr. Perk looked her in the eye. “Amy, what do you think nyctals are? The future is already here. It’s been here for thousands of years.”

She gave him The Look. It was the uncomfortable smile of a ‘sane, normal, person’ who realised they were in the presence of some conspiracy nut. He’d seen it many times. Each time, he hated it all the more.

“You’re a raspberry-flavoured atmospheric beast the size of a city block, and you think I’m ridiculous?” he asked, growing heated. “You know what? Forget nyctals. We live in a world of steel and plastic, brought to life by the power of lightning. Our creations think without brains and move without legs. We talk to each other from halfway across the globe, with a system that can neither be seen nor felt. We live on a ball floating on nothing, spinning on nothing! We don’t even know what gravity is, only what it does! Amy, have you ever seen an atom? I’m not talking about orbs orbiting orbs like the textbooks show you. That’s not what an atom looks like. Real atoms are over 99.999% empty space, like a mansion occupied by a single insect. Our bodies are mostly nothingness, yet we are solid. Has our world ever not been strange? What does ‘not strange’ even look like?”

“For starters, maybe getting out of my face?” Amy suggested.

He saw her point. Apparently, he’d crawled across the table just to get all up in her business.

Amy pushed him back to his seat with a firm, gentle tentacle. He looked away, arms folded as he contemplated the professional, level-headed man that he was not.

“Look, there’s realistic-weird, then there’s unrealistic-weird,” Amy reasoned.

“Every major shift in science looks unrealistic-weird at first,” Mr. Perk countered.

“I hear you, but don’tcha think this is a biiiiit too big to hide from the general public?” asked Amy.

“Hide? Hah,” he shook his head. “Amy, everyone already knows. The best secrets are the ones you don’t have to keep. It’s the perfect marriage of truth and falsehood: a half-truth everyone knows, but no one takes seriously.”

“Takes what seriously?” Amy asked.

“The age of mythology,” he answered.

Amy huffed a one-note chuckle. “Okay.”

Mr. Perk huffed back. “It’s like talking to a goddess who doesn’t believe in goddesses.”

Her tentacles shot out again. This time, they stopped a metre’s length before she smoothed her hair back under control. He was right. She was reacting to those words, specifically. What was it that triggered her? No … maybe not her, per se. Her body language didn’t match the tentacles’ behaviour. Were her tentacles reacting on their own, against her will? What about the organs that spawned earlier? Could he use these trigger words to throw her off? She seemed to be getting better at reigning in the reaction. Still …

“יְהוֹשֻׁעַ,” he probed.

No reaction.

“What was that?” Amy queried.

“There are many accounts of U.F.O.s responding to certain words, just like you,” he explained. “I wanted to test it.”

She scoffed. “I didn’t even recognise that word.”

“That was the point. It was meant for the A.M.E., not the you part of you,” he explained.

She shrugged. “Assuming your faulty logic holds true, guess I’m not a U.F.O, huh?”

“I think there’s a connection,” he claimed.

Amy thought for a moment. “Hm … so then that leaves …?”

She laughed. He pointedly ignored her.

“You think I’m a goddess?” Amy howled.

He didn’t answer, eyes scrutinising her tentacles as they spasmed a bit at the mention of that word.

Her laughter ceased. “Oh, you actually do? Dude, look at me. I can’t even tolerate daylight. I’m struggling against some jerk in a buggy-eyed building!”

“Vimana,” he corrected.

“Yeah, whatever,” she waved away. “Don’t you think maybe a goddess would be a biiiit more impressive than this? Just a thought.”

“Ὄσιρις,” he uttered.

She frowned as her tendrils flared briefly. “… What are you-?”

“בַּעַל,” he pressed.

Her tentacles screeched, manifesting blades that flailed about. Mr. Perk lurched back. He could actually hear them slice the air! Amy looked a bit embarrassed, but she settled them soon enough.

She glared at him. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to keep doing that.”

“No need,” he assured.

She rolled her eyes, but there was genuine curiosity within them. “Satisfied with your findings?”

“Somewhat,” he replied.

“Still think I’m a goddess?” she probed.

Her tentacles twitched ever so slightly.

“No,” he stated simply.

“Then what do you suppose I am?”

“Something that hates gods.”

On that reply, her tentacles stopped moving. The ocean went silent. He looked out to sea. The waves were frozen. Not icy. They simply didn’t move. His heart pounded. If she did anything remotely like that thing earlier, he’d find a way to nope out of there, no matter what. He turned back to Amy. It wasn’t just her tentacles that stopped. Amy seemed to have … paused, somehow.

…

Had he broken her? Did he win? Could he leave? Mr. Perk half-expected a freestanding door to open out of nowhere. Nothing like that happened.

He returned his attention to the frozen Amy. Was she even conscious? He moved a finger in front of her face. Her eyes didn’t even follow-

Her face had warped to a frenzy of toothy tentacles. She was pouncing. She was huge. Those tentacles crashed down at him like a tsunami. His reflexes threw him backwards. He should have fallen, chair and all, but something held him in place. He realised several of her tentacles had already reached him, snaring his wrists, his torso, his skull, gearing up to pull him in. It took him a moment to understand that she wasn’t moving. Again, like a nightmarish statue.

… Was that really true, though?

His rational mind pushed through the fog of terror, urging him to look at the waves again. He did. Some of them had broken. So, she and the world were moving, but the frame rate had dropped, or something like that. Even so, she was so fast that she’d moved this much between frames?

He made feeble attempts to break her grip as panic reasserted itself. It was like wrestling steel. His heart faltered as he gazed into her tentacle-warped face. Somehow, he understood that he was looking at a mouth. It was wide open before him, for him. Soon, she would move again. It would be over before he could blink.

“Oh, God …” Mr. Perk gushed. “OhGod!OhGod!OhGod!OhGod!”

“You should watch what you say,” Amy suggested.

She was normal again. They were seated like before. It was like the nightmare hadn’t even happened.

“I think the A.M.E. tried to kill you just now,” she explained, rubbing her tentacles soothingly. “I stopped it, but it took a lot of- hey, are you okay?”

Did she … seriously not remember what just happened? He almost told her, in very strong terms, then stopped himself. What would she do if he brought it up? She was in his head. Was something preventing her from realising what happened, or was she playing dumb? Both good cop and bad cop?

“So, all the fairytales are true, huh?” Amy smirked. “Countless cultures, different truth claims?”

“N-no. Not every one, and not in every way,” he clarified, desperate to move on. “And yet common threads persisted. The Native Americans have stories that closely mirror Genesis 6. Divine beings, hybrid giants, a flood … key details vary, but the commonalities are blatant. Every ancient culture has a flood story, and hybrids like chimeras and demi-gods keep popping up. How do you explain that?”

“Conceptual cross pollination and intertextuality, maybe?” Amy shrugged. “They could have been talking to each other, at some point or another.”

“Yes, but remember, these stories weren’t meant to be fables,” he asserted. “They were supposed to be history. Yes, there’d be lies, and corruptions, but you can’t throw the baby out with the bath water. The most powerful lie is a half-truth.”

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She still wasn’t quite buying it, even after all that. Shadows of The Look remained on her face. Anger tightened his chest. She couldn’t just do all this to him, then patronise him like this! Regardless, tentative curiosity was on her face. Was he starting to get through? Based on her ping comment, apparently Amy was a gamer. Perhaps it was time to speak her language.

“Ever played Assassin’s Breed?” he asked out of the blue.

Her tentacles pricked like a dog’s ears. “No … but I’ve looked into the lore. It’s very interesting.”

Mr. Perk leaned closer, his passion for the subject taking over. “Is there a part of you that says: ‘Yeah, that sounds like it could have happened, but something feels off. Really off’?”

Amy stared at him for a second. “… Yes, but that’s just a feeling. Everyone’s got a feeling. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Except when it does,” Mr. Perk smirked.

He plucked the hair from his mauby and finally took another drink, seeming satisfied with himself.

“You look like you think this was a mic drop moment,” Amy teased.

He gave a noncommittal grunt. At this stage, he wasn’t sure if he cared what she thought anymore. He was just tired, and still a little shaky.

“So … how do nyctals fit into this conspi- uh, theory?” Amy asked carefully, like she was talking to a ticking time bomb.

He snorted at her tone. “History is repeating itself, and it’s grimdark science fantasy.”

Amy’s hair danced, slow and thoughtful. A small smile dawned on her face like the first rays of daybreak.

“Eh, I dunno,” she mused. “From where I’m standing, things look pretty noblebright. Even if I can’t be The Big Good, maybe I don’t have to.”

Mr. Perk froze and put down his cup. “You … already knew?”

“In a vague way, yes,” Amy confirmed. “Breed’s lore helped me contextualise what Norman is.”

Mr. Perk stared at her. “… What … Norman … is?”

“Yeah,” Amy nodded. “Y’know, just before my mind got sucked out, he started opening up to me. Did some party tricks, except they weren’t tricks. Parkour, hawk vision … fruits. That’s Norman. Just, casually, Norman. It’s also, really, not. Half-truths, as you said.”

He blinked. “Isn’t Norman … normal?”

“Yep,” Amy confirmed. “He’s just slightly more normal than the rest of us.”

Mr. Perk grew suspicious. “Why are you telling me this?”

Amy rested her chin on the back of her wrists, smiling mischievously as she waited for him to figure it out.

…

… Ah, of course. She was an atmospheric mind eater. If she didn’t want him to know something, she would simply snatch the memory. There was no way he’d leave this place with knowledge she didn’t want him to keep.

Amy nodded, satisfied with his conclusion.

He cleared his throat, trying to move on before she decided to carry it out. “How much did Norman tell you?”

“Very little,” Amy grumbled. “I raided the brain of some guy with much higher connections than you do. That’s the only reason why I know anything. Norman drops hints and refuses to elaborate. It’s frustrating.”

Mr. Perk hesitated. Much like the mauby, he was actually starting to … well, not exactly dislike her. Talking to her wasn’t so bad. That was not ideal. He couldn’t afford her as an ally. It was objectively wrong, but any means of disrupting her efficiency was vital, even if it meant sowing seeds for the destruction of her relationship.

“…. Ever thought of brain-raiding Norman?” probed Mr. Perk.

“Lots of times, yeah,” Amy shrugged. “Probably wouldn’t work, tho.”

Mr. Perk paused. He expected the cliched: ~Of course not! I could never do that!~ However, once the seed was sown, it would be impossible for her not to think about it. As it turned out, the seed was already sown. He was very late to the game.

Amy’s smile was smug. “Mr. Perk, you’re much more naïve than I thought. Of course ideas like that are gonna pop into my head. I’m an atmospheric mind eater. More than that, I’m human. We can’t fully stop whatever twisted thoughts come knocking. Actually doing them is a different story.”

“Could you see yourself actually doing them?” he explored.

Her eyes narrowed, but her smile remained. “With. Ease.”

He stared at her. This leg of the conversation wasn’t going the way it should. Not at all.

“‘Some say that someone who is incapable of cruelty is a higher moral being than someone who is capable of cruelty’,”Amy quoted. “‘I would say that’s incorrect, and it’s dangerously incorrect, because if you are not capable of cruelty, you are absolutely a victim to anyone who is. That doesn’t mean that being cruel is better than not being cruel. What it means is that being able to be cruel, and then not being cruel, is better than not being able to be cruel. In the first case, you’re nothing but weak and naïve. In the second case, you’re dangerous, but you have it under control’.”

Mr. Perk didn’t know what to say.

“Pretty metal, huh?” Amy commented. “Maybe you should switch gears a bit. If I’d think like this when it comes to love of my life, what do you think I could do to you? We’re all alone. No witnesses. Whatever happened to you could die with me, assuming I’m not immortal. So, why don’t you quit these callow little attempts at manipulation. Cooperate. Now. For the sake yourself and anyone who relies on you.”

“If you’ve got all the answers, why are you talking to me?” Mr. Perk asked testily.

“Because you may know something I don’t, and you did,” Amy replied. “Some interesting thoughts bubbled up from your mind as you spoke. Never heard of a vimana before, but it doesn’t surprise me. I could just search your memories myself, but you know your mind better than I do, so it’s easier to have you pull them up in conversation.”

“Why don’t you just eat them?” asked Mr. Perk.

“That would be the easiest method, yes, but I’m not quite sure if you deserve that,” Amy admitted. “You know, if you weren’t a flesh-sucking goblin trying to make me eat his mind, I think Norman would like you.”

He scoffed and folded his arms. “What? You think we should hug it out and become some big happy team?”

She beamed warmly. “I’d like that, actually.”

“What’s to say the ‘flesh-sucking goblin’ won’t default back to his flesh-sucking ways?” he challenged.

Her smile turned predatory.

“̷̮̹̋̈́I̵̮̍̿’̷̧̾d ̷̯͒̍ͅliké̵͎͔ ̷͔̀th̴͕͆͑a̸̜͖̔͌ṯ̵͈̀͠ ̸̧̳̌evę̸̙̒n̴͖̬̊ ̵̣̓m̷͕͇͠ơ̷̥͠re,̵̹͌͝”̵̹̺̊ she declared, a tapering tongue slithering between sharp teeth.

Mr. Perk looked at the ocean. Anything but her hungry eyes would do. He once fancied himself to have nerves of steel, but they melted in the face of a predator like her.

Amy’s grin receded. “Sorry. I just … having an excuse to feed is always nice. Besides, I’m still not sure what to think of you.”

Mr. Perk side-eyed her. “This isn’t the behaviour of normal, well-adjusted people.”

“Yes, well, most people under your circumstances are smart enough not to judge me, so maybe you should zip your snippy little lips,” Amy quipped. “Ever thought about that?”

He shrugged. “Yes. It was pretty stupid.”

“Ugggh! This is so annoyingggg!” Amy groaned, flopping onto the table. “Total opposite of Mr. Brusque! He couldn’t admit his faults if his life depended on it! I can’t just let you go, so why don’t you give me an

excuse so I can be over and done with ittttt?”

If she weren’t some eldritch horror bent on eating his soul, it might have been kind of cute.

“I don’t eat souls!” she snapped, before looking up at him. “Hang on … lemme just … hmmm …”

Amy’s hair tentacles sniffed at him. He felt them probe to the depths of his mind, then deeper still. They touched something. Poked at it. There was resistance, like a barrier. He got the feeling that he really didn’t want her messing with whatever it was.

Mr. Perk cleared his throat and tried to guide her tendrils away. They warped around his hands, ignoring his efforts. He spoke, mostly to distract her from whatever she was doing to him.

“Look, I’m sorry. You seem … well … somewhat evil, but self-controlled,” he began. “I don’t think you and your boyfriend deserve any of this, but I’m not just living for myself here. You’re in my head. You know why I gotta do what I do.”

Amy withdrew her tentacles, sobering up. They wrung each other at the tips. She looked … awkward? … Ashamed?

“Guess I really am evil,” Amy concluded. “I should be trying to empathise with you. I just wanted to extract some useful info before you go on your roaring rampage of revenge … though it’s not like you could do much until I dig you out of the rubble.”

He felt her pity.

A dawning foreboding curdled in Mr. Perk’s gut. She’d expressed pity towards him before, right after she caught his bullet. Why? Did she know something he didn’t? … No … NO …

“Huh, you’re pretty smart,” Amy commented dispassionately.

“No, just- just tell me what you know!” Mr. Perk snapped.

She sighed. “You’re doing all this for your little sister. The Landlords were holding her hostage, so you’d follow orders, but … I’m so, so sorry. They fed her to a keychain months ago-”

Mr. Perk roared.

The dreamscape shattered under his wrath.

Amy felt a tiny portion of aerosol pull from her control. Of course, ‘tiny’ for her was enough to fill a small house. She was about to yank it back, but it wasn't every day she found someone who could do this.

Why not see what happened next?

~~~

The collapsed car park trembled. Quaked. Rubble blew asunder as a figure erupted into the sky, burning red.

~~~

Hiding under a bridge, Mr. Lim’s clingshot shuddered violently. Why was it acting like this? Was it damaged? Oh, maybe it was because he was mind-bendingly terrified. Some of his fear must have carried over to the clingshot. He’d piloted it while scared before, yet this was a first. Then again, he’d never been more scared in his life. Amy had wiped out most of the buildings in one fell swoop. Why was she fighting like this? She was supposed to be soft-hearted!

“Anyone out there?” Mr. Perk radioed in. “I can help.”

Mr. Lim almost jumped for joy. “Mr. Perk, I’m-!”

His voice was lost among the dozen or so other snipers. They swarmed the channel, begging for backup.

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP!” Mr. Perk snarled. “Mr. Lim, you spoke first. Tell me where you are.”

There was something about the way Mr. Perk spoke. Mr. Lim’s instincts whispered warnings. Then again, this was Mr. Perk. As long as he thought they had his sister, he was a lapdog.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Mr. Lim exclaimed. “Mr. Perk, I’m under the … uh … Reaping Bridge!”

“’Goodness’? No,” Mr. Perk growled on his private channel. “There is no goo̸̪̠̅dness here.”

The dark turned crimson.

The bridge tore apart as something crashed through stone and concrete to reach him.

~~~

“Eyes on the entry points,” Mr. Grey warned. “Radio silence.”

“But why? Don’t we need to let Mr. Perk know where we are?” asked Mr. Galock.

“No … we absolutely-do-NOT,” Mr. Grey snapped.

Something didn’t feel right. Mr. Perk’s tone dripped thinly veiled, murderous intent. More than likely, he knew.

Holed up in an abandoned warehouse once serving as a mechanic’s garage, Mr. Grey and his comrades manned three clingshots. Laying down suppressive fire on Amy was no longer their concern. The mission was to survive. That was all.

Mr. Blicky seemed to pick up on the threat. Too bad he didn’t pick it up all the way.

“Mr. Lim, are you still there?” Mr. Blicky whispered into the radio.

Mr. Grey’s clingshot slammed his against a truck. It lurched and dented.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU!?” Mr. Grey roared.

Mr. Blicky shoved him away. “Claws off! I contacted Mr. Lim, not Mr. Perk!”

Mr. Grey was livid. “Blicky, if he’s working with Amy, ANY radio signals might be the death of-!”

Something crashed through the roof.

Red.

Mr. Grey fired off a shot. Didn’t wait to see if it hit its mark before he fled, took cover behind the truck.

Red blades cleaved the vehicle so fast that metal melted on contact. They tore it in half, revealing their master.

“̴̪̂͛̓̇D̴̛͙̭̈̔͐I̸̫̝̟͈̚ͅD̴̙̪̠̿ ̷̡̮̳̜̺͇̔̍̍͂̂̀YǪ̵̹̺̽U̴̲̩̞͓̦̟̍̒̎̚ ̴̘̓͗̒̆̔͜KN̵̩̲͔͖̩̈́̓͑͑͌̊͝O̵̧̗̐̈͗ͅW!?” raged Mr. Perk.

An inferno of crimson aerosol blazed around him, head to toe. Bladed, red rings reminiscent of wings rippled down his body, keeping him aloft. Two withdrew from tearing the truck apart. They reminded him of Amy’s jellyfish-like flight skirt. They also brought to mind a biblically accurate angel.

It didn’t matter. Mr. Grey’s clingshot was already aiming for his gut.

The hypersonic round fired. Shredding the air, it ravaged the garage with a mini whirlwind. The bullet went through the wall, through two buildings and across the sky. Mr. Perk had moved, but not fast enough. When it came to compressed cars hurtling at several times the speed of sound? All it took was a glancing blow.

Mr. Perk’s arm was gone.

He reeled from the air and crashed behind heaps of scrap.

“Yes. We knew,” Mr. Grey sneered, preparing another shot. “It was the world’s greatest inside joke! She cried your name!”

He fired again. The scraps shattered and scattered like marbles. His shot burrowed through floor and soil, sinking deep into the Earth like a stone in the water. The warehouse trembled under its might.

“Was it this keychain?” came a darkly serene voice from behind. “Was it … yõ̷̲̘̼̒̓u?”

Mr. Grey felt hot fingers caressing his chain. Red light seared at his back. Most unnerving was the calm in Mr. Perk’s voice. Blunt wrath had sharpened to bladed focus. That blade was upon his neck.