Andrew woke up, lying face-first on the damp cave floor, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. His body ached all over, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. He felt exhausted, drained, as though he had never felt before.
"My God," he groaned, his voice filled with frustration and resentment. "What a nightmare," he cried, and he rolled over, staring up at the ceiling of the cave. Just a bad dream, he told himself. None of that was... there's no such thing as Backyard beings...
Then he remembered where he was - the strange, crystalline cave, the spiders' web threading it now nothing but bits of silk lying in cold puddles. And, flopping and struggling in those puddles were the assorted beings who'd been trapped in the web.
Andrew sat up, taking in the scene around him, and he felt his blood run cold as he did so. It... it had all been real... it all had happened. He couldn't believe it... How is that possible?!
He stared at the remnants of the spider woman's web, at the tangled pile of bodies which had once been living, breathing people. He felt his heart skip a beat, and he swallowed heavily, feeling his throat tighten with emotion.
The thought hit him like a brick; how many of these people are dead?
It didn't matter. Some of them were alive, intermixed with the drained, savaged husks the spiders had fed on.
His priority hadn't changed. Protect and serve. The standing water from the melted ice seemed to have weakened the strands. Andrew began unwrapping the bound forms of the entrapped victim's, the weakened silk tearing from their skin like wet tissue without ripping their skin.
Andrew struggled to his feet, his joints aching, his mind still thick with confusion and fear. But he was on duty now, he was a police officer, and this was no time to let his fears hold him back.
He began to unwrap the first person he came across, his fingers numb from the cold and his clothes soaked and heavy with snow. The task was not an easy one, and it took Andrew many long and painful moments to free the person, but at last the person was free.
Andrew stumbled backwards as the person collapsed to the ground, coughing and sputtering.
"Can you stand?" he asked the man.
"Yeah..." the man said, rubbing out his sore, stiff joints.
"Good. Help me unwrap the rest of these people." Andrew said.
Andrew took a moment to steady himself, then he stepped forward and began unwrapping the next person, his movements as deliberate and precise as he could manage in his exhausted state. The task was an arduous one, and eventually Andrew had freed the five survivors. He felt his heart race, his blood pumping through his veins, as he surveyed the group.
Thank God, he thought. At least there are some survivors…
Andrew leaned against the wall, his breath coming in great heaving gasps, as he glanced over at the other survivors. He cleared his throat. "Are you all okay?"
One of the Telescope Dragonflies presented itself, buzzing at Andrew's shoulder.
"Thompson, Thompson are you there?" Mason's voice came through the little cyborg bug's speaker.
"Mason? What is it?" Andrew asked.
"You've got to get out of there now!" Mason urged him.
"Negative. I'm still extracting civilians." Andrew said. His breath caught as he noticed Chikita's ice-over earlier hadn't spared all of those caught in the web. A large, burly figure was encased in ice.
"Aw hell." Andrew muttered, hobbling over to the frozen figure's side and flicking the lighter in hand.
"We're sending an extraction team, but you've gotta move, that-"
The message was garbled.
Andrew kept the flame to the human ice sculpture's form, hoping he could just thaw him out, none the worse for wear.
Chikita's voice seemed to linger in his head, asking him what the point of carrying all this baggage was. If he hadn't felt obligation to protect these people, he wouldn't have entered the spider's nest in the first place, to say nothing of the inconvenience of trying to shoot down the jorogumo without hitting any of those bound victims. How much easier that fight would have gone if he didn't need to be mindful of collateral damage.
The frozen man's casing began to steam and thaw.
"Hang in there, buddy, I'll get you out." Andrew said.
Andrew felt relieved when the man finally began to thaw, but he felt an overwhelming sense of despair when he looked again at those who hadn't survived. His heart sank as he thought about those who had died. What was this all for? he asked himself. What did they die for?
He felt tired, drained, and he suddenly felt unsure of himself. What am I doing? Is this all really worth it, he wondered. Does it even make any difference in the long run?
The survivors, still disoriented, congregated near the tunnel leading out through the culvert.
"Go on, the path should be clear. A rescue team will escort you to safety!" Andrew told them.
The ceiling began to stir, and shake. Crystalline dust fell from overhead.
"Now what?" Andrew craned his neck up toward the darkened vaulted ceiling.
Mason's warning via Telescope Dragonfly had not been a mild suggestion.
The ceiling exploded inward, great chunks of crystal and stone collapsing as a massive figure fell into the cave with the ruble.
Tarnish landed in a deep squat, stinger-tipped tail swishing side to side.
"You again?!" Andrew shrieked, stupefied that the skeletal brute had survived being buried under rubble back at the hospital, and tracked him here to finish what they started.
Andrew looked up at the towering figure of the skeleton, his heart racing, his legs trembling with fear. All of his doubts and fears came rushing back to him in one great, overwhelming flood of panic and confusion, and all at once he forgot what he was doing, why he was doing it.
The skeleton seemed to sense his fear, and it let out a menacing screech, its jaws rattling and creaking as it lunged forward, its massive claws slashing out towards Andrew in one great, sweeping arc. Andrew cried out, trying to dodge away, but the skeleton was too fast.
He'd hardly even had time to process the ranks of civilians he'd unwrapped from the adhesive webbing before Tarnish came crashing in. It was a blur of faces. He realized now, in the slowed frames of reality as the creature lunged for him, that one of those escapees was slightly in front of him, dazed and stumbled, an obstacle between Tarnish's grasp and Andrew's prone, vulnerable form.
"Look out!!" Andrew desperately tried to tackle the civilian out of the way.
It was in vain. Tarnish's massive hand closed over the man's head like a vice, squeezing tight as it lifted him by his face, muffled screams absorbed into the bony palm. Andrew collapsed and barked his knees as he failed to intercept the attack, and watched in horror as the victim was lifted into the air by the vicious bone abomination.
Groaning, the man's struggles were cut short as a white spike burst out the back of his skull. His body trembled and jerked, suffering spasms as the spur cut through countless brain connections in an instant. Andrew numbly processed that Tarnish had expelled a bone spike from his palm while holding the man by the head, smoothly grabbing and killing him in one graceful motion. As blood trickled from the spike and dribbled down the dead man's legs, plinking on the crystalline floor, Tarnish retracted the spike and tossed the body aside like an empty sack.
Andrew watched in horror as the dead man tumbled to the ground. His mind felt blank, numb with shock and grief. He couldn't process what had just happened. It was all so fast, so unexpected, he thought, trying to make sense of it all. He couldn't help but feel that some part of it was his fault, that if he had been quicker, or smarter, he could have prevented this, but it was too late now, too late for anything.
He just stood there for a moment, his legs trembling, his mind still reeling from the brutality of it all.
"Everyone get behind me! Run for the exit!" Andrew screamed to the remaining survivors as Tarnish took to his full height again, tail swishing. The chamber echoed with the panicked cries and screams.
"You go nowhere." Tarnish boomed. As before, he fired a volley of bone javelins from his angular, jagged body, and the arc fell, piercing the ground in front of the exit, sealing off escape. One of the javelins caught a survivor with their back turned, and they were a survivor no more, suddenly staked to the ground through the back.
"Bastard!" Andrew took up the fallen machete, and advanced on Tarnish.
Andrew felt a wave of pure, raw anger course through him, and he rushed at Tarnish, brandishing the machete. His blood boiled, and he felt as though his heart was about to explode. He wanted to rip the skeleton apart, to kill him for what he had done to the survivors.
He swung the machete with all the strength he could muster, but the blade simply bounced off Tarnish's bones, not even leaving a mark. Andrew felt his strength begin to fail him, and he stumbled back as the skeleton let out another scream, its jaw creaking and screeching.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
He's bigger than last time. Andrew thought, remembering how the beast had drained biomatter from the back of a fallen cop through that hypodermic tail of his. It was clear that the beast had attached itself to the hospital to prey on those trapped inside, taking special advantage of the sick and injured, too feeble to leave their beds. Not a great power boost, perhaps, but a banquet to be sure. Yes, Andrew realized Tarnish was easily twice as big - and sturdy - as he had been in the hospital when they'd first encountered each other, and dumb luck had left Andrew the victor, the monster buried under rubble.
How many? Andrew wondered. How many people did this son of a bitch eat before coming after me?
Tarnish's jaws fell open, glowing with a blue-white light. Andrew knew from prior experience that it was about to shoot another energy blast from the dark hollows of its echoing throat. The flare filled his eyes as he stumbled under the blast, this time spherical rather than a beam, and he felt the super-heated machete burn in his hand. He dropped it with a hiss as the energy ball exploded against a far wall, and he saw bits of molten metal fall to the floor.
The machete he'd dropped had been reduced to an empty handle, the blade wholesale melted by the blast. Through the steam now filling the chamber, Tarnish's tail flew toward Andrew, seeking to sink into his neck and begin bleeding him dry. Andrew caught the tail in both hands, straining desperately to keep it at bay. To his horror, the barb at its end began to spin rapidly until it was a whirling blur, like a drill stretching toward him.
Even as Andrew's feet slowly pushed back, his insubstantial weight overpowered by Tarnish's strength and mass, the stinger grew longer despite the deadlock, Tarnish channeling the reserves of biomatter it had assimilated into generating more bony material. The spinning stinger began to graze Andrew's chest, then push in, slowly piercing it. Andrew grunted, then screamed in pain.
Then, there was the sound of shattering ice. A bulky hand grabbed Tarnish's tail, and ripped it out of Andrew's chest wholesale.
Tarnish screeched in shock as the interloper whom Andrew's efforts had finally freed from his ice encasement ripped the tip of his tail clean off.
Standing tall, with a herculean build as though a chiseled statue carved of ebony, a broad-shoulder, muscular Senegalese man stands, dressed in a black speedo and traditional arm and leg bands. He smells of fragrant oils and lotion, and musky sweat.
Andrew's breath caught as he looked up at the massive figure of the man who had just saved him, standing tall, his broad chest and wide shoulders radiating a powerful energy. He was like something out of a storybook, a hero from a legend, and for a moment Andrew felt as though he was in the presence of a god.
But then the shock wore off, and reality set in. That thing... it was going to kill us, he thought. Us and everyone else down here. And suddenly he was angry again, angry at the skeleton for what it had done to the civilians.
But his strength had reached its limit. He faltered, and fell to his knees, hissing.
"Save your strength, friend." the large man's thick African accent eased him. "My thanks for freeing me from the ice. You let Hamadou step in for now." the huge man grinned as Tarnish stumbled backward, clutching its tail.
The skeletal abomination's wrath turned to cold, smug ire, as an eager tone crept into its voice. "Well, look at that. Finally, a worthy meal to amalgamate into my designs." it rasped.
The man named Hamadou adopted a strange wrestling stance of some kind, his hands moving closely in front of his face, palms open, fingers almost grasping, as though playing patty cake with an invisible playmate, interlocking fingers. Looking at him though, Andrew somehow felt the great pressure and grip strength those fingers could exude, and pictured them locking onto an opponent, turning them around, binding them, clinching, surgically finding and exploiting the windows in their opponent's form.
Andrew watched as Tarnish and the large man faced off, an air of grim determination around them both. He felt a sense of foreboding deep in his gut, as if he knew what was going to happen even before it did.
And then, suddenly, almost as if by some unspoken agreement, the two charged at each other.
The sound of smashing bones, grinding teeth, and twisting metal filled the cavern as the two titans clashed, each hit sounding like the crack of thunder in the close quarters of the cavern. The floor shook around their feet, and tiny fragments of rock and crystal flew up from the impact.
Andrew's head was spinning, and he watched with wide eyes as the two combatants traded blow after brutal blow, the massive weight and strength of Tarnish pitted against the relentless precision and speed of the Senegalese man. The force of their collisions was astounding, and Andrew winced from the noise and the sheer power each strike seemed to hold. But they each refused to back down, and the fight raged on, each landing heavy, thunderous blows on the other, the air around them seeming to shimmer as they struck, giving way to their might and brutality.
The sound of screeching static snapped Andrew out of his daze. The telescope dragonfly buzzed into Mason's voice. "Thompson, you hear me?"
"Huh?" Andrew looked to the bug.
"A squad's setting charges to clear the spikes blocking the escape route. Tell the survivors to back up!" Mason said.
Andrew looked to the escape route leading back out through the culvert, the horde of people he'd freed from the cocoon pressed up against the bone javelins Tarnish had laid, their arms desperately pushing between them like prison bars as they tried to escape this chamber where Tarnish rampaged.
Andrew quickly obeyed Mason's command, yelling to the survivors to back up as he backed himself up as well. He glanced back at the battle playing out behind him, and watched as the two opponents traded blow after blow, neither seeming to gain an advantage over the other, the air between them seeming almost electric as they fought tooth and nail to best each other. Andrew's heart was pounding, and he felt like he was watching a boxing match between two titans, each blow more deafening and jarring than the last.
It was only now that he got a good look at the variety of people he'd released from the confines of the web. Now that the shrouding ether for had fully worn off, and their features became defined, Andrew saw that the crowd were an eclectic mix of city dwellers and people he could only assume had come from other "possibilities"; men and women in antiquated medieval, tribal, and nautical garb, and a silver-haired pretty woman that Andrew slowly realized appeared to be a high fantasy elf.
Andrew was shocked by the variety of faces he saw amongst the crowd, and he briefly wondered if he had somehow stumbled into another universe, another dimension. But before he could ponder the situation any further, there was a series of loud booms, followed by a deafening blast, and the bone javelins blocking the escape route suddenly gave way, collapsing to the ground in twisted piles of rubble and shards. Andrew looked towards the exit, and saw that the path was clear, the survivors already making their way up the tunnel towards safety.
A squad of soldiers in black tactical gear, boasting high-power automatic weapons, flooded in.
"Go, go, go!" one secured the escape route, ushering the people Andrew had freed out, to relative safety. The rest spread out into the chamber, training their weapons on Tarnish. Hamadou, winded and slick with sweat, fell back, rejoining Andrew's side as the Institute soldiers closed in on Tarnish.
The soldiers looked like a well-trained army, their black tactical gear and dark goggles giving them a frightening, militaristic look.
Andrew watched as they surrounded Tarnish, pointing their guns at the creature and shouting at it to surrender, but the monster just stood there, its mouth creaking open and shut as it let out a low-toned growl. The soldiers fired a few warning shots into the air in an effort to get the creature to submit, but it didn't work, and the soldiers exchanged worried looks before opening fire. A hail of bullets rained down upon the creature, piercing through its exposed bones and causing it to screech in pain before collapsing to the ground in a heap.
"Let's go!" Andrew shook Hamadou's shoulder, and pointed down their exit.
The Senegalese man nodded, and joined Andrew in fleeing down the tunnel, as the soldiers advanced on the fallen Tarnish.
Outside, Andrew caught his breath, and surveyed the huddled survivors. A host of men in tactical gear, like the ones fighting Tarnish, were gathered 'round, doing a head count and providing blankets for the shivering civilians. Andrew got another good look at them and realized the anachronisms once again. Before him were a naval man from some bygone century, a gladiator, a host of medieval peasants, and the aforementioned elf, intermixed with Station Bay citizens. Unfortunately, the drunk driver Andrew had released into the fog, ignorant of its dangers, was not counted among this group.
"Damn it..." Andrew muttered under his breath.
Andrew let out a heavy sigh and shook his head as he surveyed the survivors, most of them looking completely shell-shocked by what had happened. Some were crying, others were shaking, and many seemed to be trying to make sense of it all.
"Are you ok?"
Andrew turned around and saw Hamadou standing behind him, a look of concern on his face.
Andrew nodded, feeling shaken but alive. Hamadou had saved him back there with the skeleton, and Andrew was grateful to him for his courage and strength. The men in tactical gear had already begun moving the survivors onto a bus, and Andrew felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he watched the people who had been rescued from this horrible place leave.
He turned back towards Hamadou, looking at him with gratitude and admiration, but also with a certain degree of wonder.
They began loading the survivors onto a transport bus bound for the safe house.
Andrew, conferring with Mason in a haze of memory, clutched his stomach wound and dropped, curling up in a ball and shaking. He had bad tremors, and was really feeling his sheer, exquisite pain and exhaustion now that the adrenaline had worn off.
Hamadou noticed the pain Andrew was in and came over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Are you ok, brother?" he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.
Andrew nodded, managing to get out a few broken words. "Yeah I'm... I'll be ok," he said through clenched teeth, trying not to let the pain show on his face. His body felt weak and tired, his heart beating painfully in his chest, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He just wanted to lie down and rest, but he knew he had to keep going.
Hamadou regarded the grip of his destroyed machete, which he had evidently recovered from the cave before escaping. "That was my favorite knife, too." he clicked. He wished he'd gotten the chance to see how Andrew had wielded it against Tarnish while Hamadou was still thawing out. This random beat cop had an unlikely warrior spirit, powered by even greater conviction. He almost thought he could see that spirit reflected in the ephemeral ether fog all around them.
Mason analyzed the proteins that comprised the jorogumo venom permeating Andrew's wounds via a telescope dragonfly's sensors, and set to work synthesizing an antidote, a process made more difficult by the unreliability of higher technology in this disruptive fog.
Andrew stayed with Hamadou as the survivors from the cave were loaded onto the bus. He felt a sense of relief knowing that they were safe now, and he wanted to thank Hamadou for everything he had done. He also couldn't help but admire how Hamadou had handled that beast, and he was inspired by his courage and strength. Hamadou was a brave and valiant man, and he was someone that Andrew looked up to immensely, even after such a little time of knowing him.
"You handled yourself well back there." Andrew gave a delirious grin up at Hamadou, hissing as Mason administered the cure and dressed his stab wounds.
Mason regarded the bus as it stalled. The telescope dragonfly network was still monitoring the fog patterns, the bus stalled while their scouts tried to determine the best window to begin the drive back to the hospital, without taking a wrong turn into another dimension, or running afoul of more details. Mason surveyed the eccentric collection of displaced survivors gathered under their care, realizing that these apparent time travelers may be able to offer valuable information on the nature of the fog's temporal links, by way of their testimony. He surveyed the lustrous bronze armor and weaponry of the apparent gladiator, clutching his sword like a safety blanket, shellshocked. If it was a costume, it was a damn convincing one.
Andrew grimaced at the feel of the bandages being applied to his wounds, but he was grateful for Mason's care. He knew that without him, he likely would not have survived the encounter with Tarnish, and he was grateful to him for saving his life.
He looked around the group of displaced survivors, taking in their varied outfits and weaponry. He couldn't help but wonder about their backstories, what had led them to this place of danger and misfortune, and why they had been drawn here in the first place. Was there some connection between them? Was this just a coincidence?
Mason, recognizing the unique opportunity presented by these unexpected survivors, approached the group of individuals with a mix of curiosity and caution. He knew that their presence could shed light on the nature of the ether fog and its connection to other worlds and times.
"Good evening," Mason greeted them, his voice carrying a blend of authority and intrigue. "I couldn't help but notice that you all seem to be from different eras and realms. I'm Director Mason, and I represent a task force studying the phenomenon that has brought us together. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions to better understand your experiences."
The men in antiquated navy garb, the Roman gladiator, and the high elf exchanged glances, acknowledging Mason's request. They recognized the significance of their arrival in Station Bay and the potential impact it could have on unraveling the mysteries of the ether fog.
Mason began his interview, focusing on each survivor in turn, seeking to learn more about their backgrounds and experiences prior to being drawn into the fog.
"To start with, if you don't mind sharing, could you tell me your names and where you come from?" Mason inquired, his gaze shifting from one individual to the next.