LUNA IS BORED

I look like a creepy-ass doll. This observation was, oh so kindly, fluted at me from the collection of blades on my fingertips not only that, but it was also, unfortunately, completely accurate. Dressed in an extravagant Victorian styled outfit that, thank God, wasn’t one of those ball gowns that looked like they could host a small family of two-to-three depending on the exact make, no, my particular brand of creepy doll-ness, thankfully, came with pants. My outfit consisted of a black waistcoat, a dark grey undershirt, and a white shirt under the undershirt, coupled with my glorious pants. This description omitting the customary Victorian frills and embellishments, as well as the subtle red highlights in everything. I also had one of those absurd tiny top-hats, you know one of the ones that stick out at a nigh-impossible forty-five-degree angle, whilst sitting in a bed of flowers. The flowers in this case were jet black but had little red thorns on the vines they were entangled in. All of this served to highlight my eyes. Big and red as they were. Even so, I still looked creepy, and weirdly extravagant. I kind of liked it. It’s not something I would wear in public given the choice, but unfortunately, I wasn’t given the choice. Luna had chosen what she would wear this morning when she left her home, and I was going to have to deal with the embarrassing consequences.

I sighed and left the room. Chanelle was at her desk, collecting her things, looking as if she was about to head home. Unfortunately for me, she finished right as I was passing by and, seeing as we were both leaving the building, it was a little awkward seeing as not twenty minutes ago I did the magical equivalent of holding her at knifepoint. I was about to say something, but a quick impulse from Spvhanha shut me up. I had to be a tough heartless bitch if I didn’t want to get chewed up. I replied with a counterargument, basically stating that I wanted her to, if not like me, than at least not want me dead to a sufficient degree that she’d take the large saw I could see strapped to her hips and use it to end the lifelong matrimony between my head and neck. Although now that I think about it, dying again wouldn’t be too big a deal. I’d be back in a different body, likely in a different place. It was a little reassuring knowing that if I died it wouldn’t be the end. It made me feel a bit like a videogame protagonist. If I died, my life counter would just tick down by one, and I’d respawn from the last checkpoint. Shame I only have one life left, I wonder if there’s a way to get mo… before finishing the thought a flash of orange eyes shredded through my mind and I stopped in the hallway. A chill running down my vertebrae like a team of firemen rapidly evacuating a building down a staircase. Their heavy boots stomping their way from the base of my skull to the tip of my tailbone. Chanelle paused briefly to look at me before continuing on her way to the exit. I took slow deep breaths. Right… right… I had been warned about this. I shouldn’t look for a way to escape, death was inevitable no matter what, even if I escaped, Death would come for me.

I picked up my pace, catching up to Chanelle. “Know any good places to eat around here?” I asked. My voice sounded a little fake, even to myself. She glanced down at me. “There’s the cafeteria on seventh but if you want good food, you’ll have to leave the bubble and go out into the real city,” Chanelle replied succinctly, possibly as a signal to me that she didn’t want to continue conversing with me. I, however, blatantly ignored that and trundled on like a bulldozer with cut brakes and a cinder block on the accelerator. “Well, where do you plan on eating now that you’re off work?” I asked. “Home,” she said. “And if you weren’t going to eat at home?” I asked. Chanelle sighed. “Then I would go to the fucking cafeteria. Do you know that irritating people like this can get you killed around here or are you just a brat with a death wish?” she said. “No, I’m a sweet innocent child, no one would ever do anything to me,” I said. Activating my best baby-voice. It wasn’t that hard considering I still had a baby voice, and it was actually harder to not sound like a child than it was to do the opposite. “Luna, you’re a dark-elf not a ten-year-old, and while most people around here would balk at killing someone that looked like a child, not everyone is so soft. Not everyone has the luxury of trusting those who appear innocent. It doesn’t take a lot of development before someone can pull a trigger after all.” “Huh… that’s kinda fucked up… but more importantly, I’m Cheshire, not Luna.” “I’m aware. I’m also aware of the fact that you should be going by Luna in public so as not to rouse suspicion. “Does anyone even know what Luna looked like? From what I know of her, she seemed like a shut in who just advertised herself to become the head without actually doing any work.” “I suppose that’s true. Most people don’t even know that Luna isn’t human. Either way, I’ve associated your visage with the name Luna, and I’m not going to put in the effort to change,” she said. I frowned. “That’s rude,” I chastised. “I’m aware,” Chanelle said flatly. “Fine, make your jokes, but keep in mind, I’m you new boss and I am absolutely petty enough to dock your pay over slights against me,” I said. Chanelle froze. I turned to face her. She fixed me with a cold, deadly glare. “Listen to me girl, if you so much as touch my paycheck for anything other than a raise, I will spill you onto the pavement. Do you understand? In fact, just for that comment you’re going to give me a 50% raise. I’ll expect it by tomorrow.”

A chill went up and down my spine, but Spvhanha gave me a poke. “Show no weakness under any circumstances. If you want to be the alpha, you can’t balk to any challenge to your authority.” I sighed, and carefully expunged the mirth from my expression. Reminding myself of the fact that death was no longer an uncertainty, just an interruption, I channeled the energy of waiting in line at any sort of government office with no phone. The sheer apathetic boredom that made one want to see someone pull a gun on an attendant just so that something could happen. The true mind-numbing enchantment of the most dead-hearted voice calling out a number that somehow wasn’t yours for the umpteenth time, but somehow managed to be a perfect variation of your number that made you suspect that you might be the next one up… again. Visage adopted I looked at her through my eyelids, well I looked at her waist at least, she was very tall, and my eyes were half-closed. Then I spun on my heel, blatantly ignoring her. “Duck in three… two… one… NOW!” I listened to Spvhanha’s advice and ducked. Immediately I felt the disturbance in the air as what was, presumably, a large saw flew into the space previously occupied by my precious brain and skull that would certainly try its best against the tremendous force with which the saw was thrown. I felt Spvhanha tug on my arms and I followed her lead, my had whipping back. My fingers flicked open, and I felt a closed fist slam into my palm with enough force to break a bone. Lucky for me, and even luckier for my delicate child-bones, I felt Spvhanha absorb the force, stopping the hand dead. I felt the two of them exert pressure against each other, Chanelle to crush my hand, Spvhanha to grip her fist with more force than I thought possible. My hand hurt like hell as the hypothetical rope in their reverse tug-of-war match. I was glad I wasn’t facing her as I grit my teeth with the pain. I felt something warm and wet running between my fingers. I knew I had to say something. And after a very brief back in fourth with Spvhanha, we decided less was more. I curled my fingers, Spvhanha’s clawlike form sliding into the tendons in Chanelle’s right hand, almost immediately her fingers went limp as the muscles clenching them were separated from their charges. I heard Chanelle groan in pain behind me. She immediately tried to alleviate the pressure on her hand, lowering herself closer to my level. “Try something like this again…” I began, but I didn’t finish. Letting the dead quiet room fill with the sounds of her groans of pain, and fat drops of blood hitting the tiles. Tick… tick… tick… tick…. I released her, freeing her hand. As I walked towards the swinging glass doors in front of me, I called out. “Pleasure working with you,” I said, before gently kicking the shattered doors open. The responsible saw sitting a few feet outside them amidst a pile of broken glass. “The price for the door will come out of your pay,” I said.

I wandered through the base of the Grey Nightshade guild. It was a collection of buildings of various purposes, spread out in the bubble. The pocket dimension taking the form of a massive… well… bubble. The walls of which were a silvery grey with a pearlescent sheen. It was actually quite beautiful, there was a particularly large gleam on the walls, mimicking the sun. According to Luna’s memories the gleam would mimic the actual location of the sun if I were to leave the bubble. Currently I was just exploring. I could’ve used Luna’s memories to find any specific location I wanted to, but where would the fun be in that? So, I continued wandering around mapping out locations, I did use Luna’s memories to identify buildings. It generally wasn’t a good Idea to wander aimlessly in here, and looking around like a tourist was one of the key signs of aimlessness. Instead, my appearance was that of someone with a specific destination in mind. Eyes forward, gaze lightly focused on a specific point, but still looking around. I had somewhere to be but wasn’t in much of a hurry. Around here, it was the visage of the important, higher members of the guild. We never hurried to where we were going because we knew that whatever was happening would wait for us. Although now that I think about it, I guess I kind of am one of those important members of the guild. It was an odd realization. I was a crime boss. A don. The biggest fish in this pond. I let out an exhausted sigh. I was so screwed. Not only would the church of Lumina kill me on realization of who I was, now they would kill me on realization of who Luna was. Or at least they would throw me in prison, but I’m no more inclined to be imprisoned than I am to be killed. Although now that I think about it, imprisonment might be worse. Death just means I start over in a new place without the problem of the Grey Nightshade Guild to deal with, imprisonment is kind of a massive waste of time. I laughed at the realization. How nonsensical does my life have to be that I’m more worried about going to jail than I am about being murdered to death… again.

I glanced at the next interesting-looking building and identified it. It was the RnD building. Technically it had some actual name that Luna had vaguely known. It started with an L, but everyone just called it RnD. I shrugged and wandered in. Looking around, I found a directory, which was basically just a large poster telling people what was on each floor, but that’s pretty much all I needed. There were departments for just about anything a criminal organization could need, tools, weapons, vehicles. I was about to leave but I decided to go to the department of weapons research and development. Really only because it sounded cool. They probably had guns and stuff. I got on an elevator, moved to the requisite floor and got off. Looking around It was a lot less exciting than I thought. It was really just a bunch of rooms with number plates lined in hallways. I frowned, disappointed. Or at least I was until I saw a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Large letters above the door spelled out, “Department of Weapons Research and Development” I walked down the hall and examined the door. Beside it was the requisite plate with the room number, as well as a clipboard hanging on a nail. It was labeled “Available lab technician” followed by a bunch of time slots covering the current week. But none of that was what drew my attention. What did was an lattice of sticky notes arrayed over each other, taking up every available time slot for the week, and across all of them was written one name in permanent marker. CANDACE. Looking closer I noticed that at the bottom corner of the sticky note wall, was writing in sloppy handwriting, “Debbie why the fuck is this even here?” I snickered at that and pushed my way inside.

The DWRnD lab was very spacious, but I barely had the opportunity to take it in, before an ornery voice called out from behind a large table. “Debbie, get the fuck out! If you want to talk to me, just send me an e-mail so I can ignore it!” The voice sounded young but oddly raspy. I snickered again “I’m not Debbie,” I called in the direction of the voice. There was a humanoid form there, but it was clearly mechanical, kind of like an android, but it was partially disassembled, wires hanging out of the face and open chest cavity. It looked rather disturbing. I heard an electric drill stop. “Eh? What do you want? If you have something for me to fix just leave it on the table!” She called, raising a hand above the large worktable in the middle of the room and pointing off to one side. I wandered around the side of the large worktable so I could get a look at who was presumably Candace. She was under the chair where the android sat, taking a drill to its hip joint. She dropped a thick bolt into a tray and crawled out from under the machine. Standing, she grabbed the leg and lifted it off the android and dropped it down onto the worktable with a grunt. She looked over at me and arched an eyebrow. “Y-need somethin’?” she asked looking at me. She was short, a little taller than me, couldn’t be older than eighteen, had short black hair tied back in a ponytail, and her lips were quirked in a way that made me feel like she was telling some sort of joke I didn’t understand. “What are you doing?” I asked, I’d wandered in here because I was bored and curious, I might as well bother the employees. Candace looked back at the mechanical leg in front of her. “Switching out the servo in the knee joint since the old ones aren’t precise enough for proper balance,” she said. Grabbing her cordless drill and changing the bit. “Then why’d you put those one’s in, in the first place?” I asked. “Because I’m a moron and got them mixed up. But really, I’m just doing this in the meantime while running the stress tests on the cooling system. Now, as much as I like talking about things I care about, I doubt you just showed up here for the express purpose of learning the way of the Candace,” she said, as she started quickly removing screws from the frame of the leg. “Honestly, I just wandered in because I was bored,” I said. “Cool, in that case, play with anything you know how to use, and if you don’t know what it is, don’t touch it,” she said, absentmindedly. “Seems like rather lax safety regulations.” “I’m the lab tech, not your mama. If you want to lose a hand, it’s not my problem. Really, it’s Debbie’s problem but she’s a bitch so who cares,” Candace said. I snorted in surprise at the blunt statement. Looking around I noticed three blocks of silvery metal, all attached to tubes. The tubes all lead to different radiators, each with running fans. All the metal blocks were each being blasted by their own blowtorch. “I’m guessing these are the cooling system stress tests you mentioned,” I said looking at the torches, blazing with bright blue flames.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Yep, Aico puts out heat like a motherfucker when she’s under load, so I need to make sure the cooling solution is pretty robust,” Candace said. “Aico?” I asked. “She’s in the tank,” Candace said, pointing over her shoulder to a large cylindrical tank in the corner. In the center, suspended in the water was some sort of densely layered… computer… chip? I wanted to say computer chip, but it was in the shape of a cube, it was also open, letting the water run over all the little bits of metal. “That’s… Aico?” “Yeah, she’s the main project here. Currently she’s bound to the fish tank to keep her cool, but if I want to give her a body, I’m going to need a smaller cooling solution.” “Ah, so that’s why you’re making this,” I said gesturing to the android leg. “Bingo,” Candace said, smiling as she pulled a large black metal cylinder out of the leg. She set it on the worktable and grabbed an identical cylinder and began shoving it into the leg. “Who’s Debbie?” I asked. “Some bitch; she keeps telling me I have to let other people use my lab, which I like, already do. But she keeps saying I need to be nicer and more accommodating. Pfft, we’re fucking gangsters, hardened criminals, scoundrels of Scandinavia. We don’t need to be coddled,” Candace let out a fake sigh and said, “I swear, if she wants to mother everyone, she should either go work in a fucking orphanage or get her tits out and let people suckle on ‘em,” Candace finished. I suddenly began choking on the air in my throat. My body half-caught between breathing and laughing. “W-what?” I called between wheezes. “If you’re asking that question, I’m pretty sure you heard me right,” she said, sounding almost smug. “You sound way too smug,” I said, calling her out on it. Candace, for what might be the first time in this conversation, actually looked up at me, taking a pause from what she was doing. “Why wouldn’t I be smug? I takes a lot of effort to be so vulgar. People write books on the art of vulgarity,” she said, deadpan. “Do they?” I challenged. “Mhmm,” she said, getting back to her leg. “Now you wouldn’t happen to have one of those books on hand, would you?” I asked. She snorted derisively. “Of course I do, the queen of vulgarity can’t be caught unarmed under any and all circumstances.” “Care to fork up the book then?” I said, smiling viciously, anticipating her to backpedal. “Nah, I’m busy,” she said gesturing toward the leg. She was now looking into the cavity with a pen light, she’d taken the cylinder, which I presumed was the aforementioned servo, out once again. “My room’s back there though, book should be on the top shelf of the bookshelf, furthest to the right,” she said, pointing off to a corner where there was, indeed, a door. “Wait, you live here?” “Yeah. Debbie hates it, but I told her if she wants to kick me out, she’ll have to get within range of me shoving my foot far enough up her ass I could tickle her prostate with my toes,” she said. I snorted another laugh. “Women don’t have prostates,” I said, feeling like I was being baited, but still needing to say it. “Who’s to say if that’s really true, only way to find out is to go on a steel-toed adventure through a certain woman’s bowls until we find it,” she said, kicking her boots against the concrete floor, which produced a faint metallic-ish noise.

“Okay so, you’ve told me enough Debbie slander to fill a phonebook, but I barely know anything about you,” I said, hefting the wheel to an angle grinder in one hand while pointedly facing away from the welding taking place behind me. I always wondered why the process of magically fusing metal was called welding, while using the same process for wood was called joining. “What do you want to know?” Candace called. I set down the grinding wheel and moved to the large tank containing Aico. The computer chip firmly mounted in the liquid. It still felt weird calling it a computer chip, chips were supposed to be flat, weren’t they? And this was a cube, about four inches on each side. “Honestly I have absolutely no idea what to ask,” I said honestly. “Ask anything, I don’t have many secrets,” she said. I just shrugged and figured I might as well start small. “What’s your favorite color?” “Blue, like any other basic bitch,” she responded. I smirked. “Where are you from?” “Here, born and raised,” “How did you learn to make this stuff,” I asked, mostly wondering how someone could learn to make a massive computer chip before hitting the age of twenty. “Lots of study, practice and caffeine. Notice, that sleep was not on that list,” she said conspiratorially. “What do you do for fun?” I asked. “Plenty. I make cool shit, test the cool shit, use the cool shit I made to blow shit up, that sort of thing. Oh, and you can turn back around now, I’m done with the welding,” she said. I did so and saw what she was working on. It looked like she was making a new frame for the leg. “Blow shit up you say? Where might I find such activities taking place?” “Usually the shooting range, but for all the big stuff I look into finding something that needs demolition. If you wanna come just call me, my number’s on the in case of emergency poster over there,” she said pointing to it. I glanced at it and copied the number into my phone. Suddenly a laptop began beeping on the worktable. Candace stopped what she was doing and moseyed over, removing the thick gloves she had on. She shut off the blow torches heating the metal blocks, which I now noticed were about the same size as Aico. “Alrighty… results, results, results,” she said, rubbing her hands together. She looked over the screen for several seconds. “Nice I was kinda rooting for this one, if for no other reason than it would be much easier to work with than all the other crap,” she said. Which one is it? I asked examining the overtaxed cooling systems. “B,” she called from the computer. They were all labeled with embossed metal plates. The plates read: 1, B and mk.2. “Care to explain the naming convention? I asked. “There has to be a little madness to every method,” she said.

Entering a place that was both my home, and also a place I had never been, was a profoundly strange experience. Luna’s apartment was so fundamentally different from mine, that we may as well not even be of the same species… ignoring the fact that we aren’t of the same species. The point is it was weird entering that place. It was oddly cramped, not because of my undiagnosed hoarding tendencies, which definitely weren’t my cover for being a lazy-ass who didn’t want to clean her damn apartment, but because the place was genuinely quite small while also being, at the same time, quite large in a way. Seeing as I was essentially in the body of a child. The countertops came up to my chin, the couch was up to my waist, and the refrigerator was a towering monstrosity I would never be able to climb… which was why there was a step ladder. And that was another thing, not only was everything massive, but this was also clearly a place well inhabited by one of the vertically challenged. I say challenged, but at a height of no more than four feet five inches, It was probably safe to say it was less a challenge and more an ass kicking. Either way, the apartment was liberally sprinkled with cleverly hidden away ladders and step stools, to assist the little lady in reaching things on shelves at around my previous eye level. It was actually a little surreal. Not just the Improvements Luna made to assist in her living quality, but just the memories I had of this place. My body using reflexes I didn’t know I had, to hit light switches I didn’t know existed as I entered rooms. It was honestly odd to think that this is what my life now is. The fact that I knew the oven drawer had been converted to a platform on which Luna could stand while cooking, the fact that I knew her favorite blanket was a super soft blue and green queen-size comforter that she’d brought from home. The fact that I knew where every hidden gun compartment in the apartment was. The one by the front door, the one in the toilet, the one in the oven, the one in the couch, the one in the laundry room, etc. It was like the most potent feeling of déjà-vu. Except with the extra trippy measure, of the automatic muscle memory, hitting switches I didn’t know about, and putting extra force into that one stubborn door that needed a bit of extra oomph to open and close properly.

Pray tell my oh so attentive mind construct, what do you think a criminal overlord does on the day to day? Scheme? Plan heists? Make examples of her army of dumb brutish goons? Well, maybe some other crime boss, maybe in some other place. But here? Me? Oh, no, no, no, my sweet mind construct. Here in the Grey Nightshade Guild, our illustrious leader whiles away her time in only the most important of… paperwork. I wish this was a joke. I wish I could laugh about it with you, but laughter was merely the first casualty in the war between my psyche and the reams. But I do still need to do it despite the fact that a lot of the paperwork is digitized, for some god forsaken reason, there still manages to be just enough non-digitized inked-up tree corpses to attempt an assassination on my will to actually deal with this shit. At least fulfilling my promise to take the cost of the door out of Chanelle’s pay was easy. I just contacted a building company, who apparently don’t give a shit about working on a building run by a criminal organization, got a quote for the repair costs, and docked Chanelle’s pay so that the cost of the door is recuperated over the course of six months. Also, just for the record, Chanelle doesn’t just get paid, she get’s fucking paid. Chanelle makes in a week what I used to make in eight months at my old job. Although now that I’m thinking about Chanelle, I’m remembering how awkward it was coming here after yesterday. Seeing her at her desk, and just not mentioning the fight. I grit my teeth, pausing in my skim reading of the document. Although now I’m realizing that I have absolutely no idea what I’ve been reading for the past five minutes. I sigh and flip back to the previous page in the folder, looking for something I recognize…. I have to use the bathroom.

Taking that as the lifeline it is, I get up. Leaving the paperwork, that I swear is trying to kill me, where it is I go to the bathroom. Passing by Chanelle is still awkward, I just have no idea what to say. Should I even say something? Would it make it worse or better? I can see her taking it either way. No, I should probably say something, but what? I can’t say anything that would make me appear weak, that would undermine the whole point of the fight yesterday, but if I’m mean it’ll definitely make it worse. However, if I say something too neutral, she’ll probably assume that I was feeling bad about it which still undermines the whole point of the fight. I groan. Leaving the bathroom, I return to my office. As I walk past Chanelle’s desk I glance down at her. She met my gaze evenly. Not knowing what to do I just watched her, staring into those ice blue irises. I let out a sigh through my nose. I don’t want to be some hardened heartless bitch, It’ll only be a matter of time before I screw that up, might as well just be me and damn the consequences. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday,” I said. Chanelle arched an eyebrow in an expression I was suspecting was hardened gangster lady for: shock. “Let me level with you, I’ve firmly decided I’m not going to act like some cold-hearted bitch just to get you to respect me or whatever. As much as I probably need your respect seeing as you’re in prime assassination position, I don’t care. You’ll either like me or you won’t. You’ll respect me, or you won’t, but I’m not willing to go chasing after it,” I said. meeting her eyes evenly. And god damn if that shit wasn’t hard to do, she just had this I’ll break you over my knee if you so much as fart in my general direction look to her. We just kind of stood there for several seconds, looking into each other’s eyes until finally, her face softened. Not to anything that could be considered friendly, dear God no, it was more akin to going from diamond to steel. She stuck out her hand in a manner that I immediately recognized, and we shook. Her hands were bigger than mine on account of my general tininess. They were also calloused, a little boney, and oddly warm. “Chanelle Owlfang,” she said. I smiled “Cheshire Limington,” I said, as we released our hands. “Also, what kind of name is Owlfang? Owls don’t even have teeth let alone fangs.” Ah, there it was. Chanelle’s face had returned to its rightful place at the tippy top of the Mohs hardness scale. “You really wanna go there Limington? That genuinely has no meaning, other than sounding vaguely posh.” “Hey! My name has a meaning, it means a town on a river,” I said proudly. Chanelle just gave me a flat look.