"So, names. Names would be good", Boris said as he lay Mila and Rowain by the fire the traveling gunmen had started in the heath of the saloon-hotel.
"Name's Gannon, Gannon O'Reilly", said the Irishman who seemed to be their charismatic leader. "This is Lenny Eggs, you may know him by the moniker of... Edgar Price?", he said, gesturing to the thick-moustachioed, elongated man to his right. He waited for Boris to recognize the name, but continued when he clearly did not. "And this is Iwamoto Ren", he introduced the scruffy Japanese man on his left. "Intense-lookin' feller over by the fire is an I-talian by the name of Orsino Corsico. Now, if you wouldn't mind the same courtesy?"
"I'm Boris-4. Mila-3 over here, Rowain-5 next to her on the left."
"Why the numbers?" Lenny (Edgar?) asked.
"Well, those are reset numbers... ah, I guess you wouldn't be familiar with Exos. Lemme explain." Boris removed his helmet, and a shock of thick, straight brown hair fell over his eyes, which were wide with shock, if anyone could see them.
"Um... oh... uh..." Boris ran over to his fellow Guardians. He removed Mila's helmet, and saw not the familiar black-and-purple-painted mechanical face of his girlfriend, but instead a pallid Russian woman whose long, black hair spilled out over her face and shoulders. He pulled off Rowain's helm to find a woman whose general features and shock of curly red hair implied Irish descent, but whose dark complexion implied otherwise.
"Uh... don't suppose you guys know what, uh, robots are?"
"What, now?" Gannon asked quizically.
"Uh... yeah, never mind, forget the whole Exo thing for now. How do we heal them?"
"I'm afraid I'm not sure ya do, par'ner", Lenny/Edgar said with a strange tone, like an amused grimness. Boris weighed his options here. He could, perhaps, given enough time, generate enough Light between Scooby, Dexter and Clyde, to either heal Mila significantly at the possible expense of Rowain's life, or heal Mila to a more or less functional level and stabilize Rowain, leaving them with no further auxillary Light until a safe room.
However, he didn't trust these men. They may have bought them some time, but he got a distinctly uneasy feeling from them. At the very least, these men were amoral crooks, if not something more twisted. Every wire in his... every hair on his body stood on attention. He didn't think for a minute that bringing out a ghost right now would be a good idea.
He considered taking them out. His guns were better, his armor more advanced than people of their time had ever dreamed of. But they still outnumbered him, and the girls were completely vulnerable, and these men were from this goddamn place, so who knew what they were capable of...
Still, Boris did not know first aid, and if he didn't do something soon, Rowain and Mila would die. He considered waiting for the men to fall asleep, but he had no way of guaranteeing he wouldn't fall asleep first. He also had to worry about hunger, and didn't know if they did. He assumed not.
"So where're you guys passing through from?" he asked.
"We been on the road since west Missouri. Passed through a lot of country on our way out here. First time in town in I don't know how long, and we get hit by freak storm of the decade, looks like", Lenny/Edgar said.
"Where you headed?"
"Back out west, where we belong. Some rotten business pushed us east, and we think time's come to push back out to the desert. 'Cept the desert's gone tundra."
Gannon stroked his long goatee with an anxious jitter. "I shudder to think how cold the old country must be if the winter here's so rotten."
"So you're all from different countries, right?"
"Yeah, mate. Ren's from a Japanese city by the name of Kyoto. Orsino's from the I-talian city of Forlí, Lenny's a Missouri river boy and I been here six years after the first boat from Belfast. All met up robbin' the same train out by Tombstone. Ran together almost a year now."
"Robbers, eh?" Boris forced a chuckle.
"Don't be tellin' me yer an officer of the law, looking like such", Gannon forced a chuckle in kind.
"Well, not exactly."
"Bounty hunter?" Lenny asked, with a sinister hint of purpose.
"Something more like that, yeah. Big game. Not guys like you. Picture more... rogue generals and warlords."
"Oh, we got ourselves a special soldier! I'll drink to it, won't we lads?"
"Is this the best time to drink?" Ren asked.
"Bloody fuck, we're not goin' back out in that bloody storm tonight, you daft cunt! We're stuck in a saloon fer fuck sake, what else are we gonna do? Disrespect our new friend? His bloody girl is bled raw, I say he deserves it! Eh?" Gannon gestured at Boris to confirm.
"I... why not, sure."
"See? He doesn't wanna fuckin' die, I don't wanna fuckin' die, let's drink so we don't freeze and fuckin' die"
"Morire è vivire", Orsino muttered, continuing to stare into the fire.
"Fuckin' say it in English! We all speak English! Your fucking fascination with this little habit of yours, I swear!"
"To die is to live", Orsino repeated himself.
"Wh-- shut up, you... well, fuck. I'm goin' behind the bar."
"Windsor, we're at the Met! Anything to watch out for inside?"
"First, get inside!"
"You OK?"
"I'm currently dancing around trying to stay alive and not kill the civilians currently trying to murder me."
"What!?"
"Cultist killed himself, Red Bull of Spain attacked me. I killed the bull, it was possessed or something, and now everyone on the film set is trying to kill me. I don't want to leave the area until you have a sightline from the Met. I'm assuming that--"
In the corner of each Guardian's helmet interface: Offerings remaining: 30
"--yeah. You see that? Cultists want us to kill, I bet it's their chance at salvaging the ritual. Why else would the bull go down so easily, right?"
"I dunno, guess that makes sense. OK, so the lobby is... big, open, full of Egyptian and Mesopotamian art. There's some kind of control panel... oh woah, the fuck?"
"What is it?", Windsor panted.
"Uh, it looked like some kinda floor chart, I picked the next one up and now everything has changed to an exhibit of marine life and the Maori's relationship with the ocean. I'm gonna hit the highest floor... OK, we're in like... this weird funnel room. Looks like a backroom or something?"
"Funnel--white floor?"
"Yeah!"
"That's the theatres! Offices should... watch the flat walls. You see an office door, you take it. Do NOT let any performers see you. It'll be obvious who is one. And... how's your Light?"
"Huh?"
"I'm able to use my Light. It's how I've been evading this crowd. It's weak, I can't do everything, but I can jump, and I can heal, albeit very slowly. I might be able to rez, but I'm not trying to find out right now."
"Uh... well, now that you mention it, I'm not feeling as much like shit as I was 20 minutes ago..."
"Thought it was in my head, honestly..." Liesel commented.
Aktaf meandered around til he felt Liesel tug at his sleeve and lead him through a side door. Immediately ahead was a hallway, carpeted with a mixture of blues, pinks, blacks and yellows that were so blended as to have the overall effect of "grey" even if it did not contain the actual color. To their left, a dimly-lit---"
"Office!" Aktaf threw the door open and pointed his weapon around the room. Liesel shut the door as she entered. The room was cramped by poorly-arranged desks and file cabinets, and blinds were drawn over the windows. Peeking out through them, Aktaf relayed what he saw to Windsor as Liesel secured the room.
"OK, first thing you gotta know is that above the cloudline, it's daylight."
"Interesting. What else you see?"
"The towers roll back... er, I honestly can't tell because the sense of scale is still miserably fluid. Looks like there's a hill, and the towers kinda... stick straight out of the ground, like they aren't built to be level with each other?"
"How far away is the financial district?"
"Pretty... close, I think? Maybe 20 minutes by sparrow. Although, uh.... I know it's dark down there and you're being chased, but can you see across the water? Is... İstanbul on the other side of the river where Jersey should be? Hagia Sophia is right there. And it's dwarfed by a football stadium near you..."
"I see the stadium."
"Agh, dammit. I can see the players in the stadium. From all the way over here... Windsor, I don't think I'm reliable as far as locking the shape of the city. It's completely and utterly fucking with my perspective."
Suddenly, the doorknob jiggled. Aktaf and Liesel held their breath and snapped to attention. A muffled voice asked complainingly who locked his office, then wandered off, disgruntled.
"Windsor, we're gonna... come to you..."
"And how're you planning on doing that?"
"Train?"
"Good luck. Stay safe. I wish I could be more directly helpful. Stay on the line."
Exiting the mosque, Chandragupta felt immediately in the night air a sort of sweetness and longing. A sort of mystic whimsy juxtaposed against dark severity. Paradoxically ominous sanctity.
"Ariadne. Do you feel that?"
"Depends what you're talking about."
"There's a few things going on, to be fair. This is the Valley of the Radio Towers. It's an extremely common entry point to the Four Winds Bar, and also a place of egress. The fact that an instance is bound to the Necropolis is... worrying. Not that I expect people to just be dropping in, but... not great. Ariadne, in all likelihood, we'll be passing through here when we look for Alois. Today, though, we're taking advantage of how easy it is to travel. I think I know how we can find Windsor, at least. Maybe even Rowain, though that's a shot in the dark... come on. There's a road that snakes through here. Along the way, sometimes, are wooden totems. They can be used to find things, people, places. They're often used for rituals... any rituals. They're like... fetishes that can be purposed by any group for whatever needs."
"Fetishes?" Freya asked in confusion.
"Ritual objects. Not sexual. Usually."
"And... if anyone can use them..." Eldris began.
"Yes, it is entirely likely that our particular Mystery Cult is making use of one or more. Might have a fight on our hands. Hopefully we'll just be able to find Windsor and, by extension, the rest of them. Keep a lookout for demons and ghosts and whatever other crap is lurking in the forest. We'll be lucky to get through unmolested."
Boris was, after only a few drinks, more or less inebriated. He could barely focus on the task at hand. Gannon bellowed with laughter nearly unceasingly. Lenny nauseously grinned along. Ren remained quiet and reserved, slowly nursing the same drink he started with, even as Lenny and Gannon slammed down round 12. And that creepy fuck Orsino remained crouched in front of the fireplace, staring endlessly into the flames, largely silent aside from the occasional prayer muttered in Italian.
Boris stood, holding the table for balance, and swayed over to Rowain and Mila. He checked their pulses. Still alive. He fought the urge to pass out. He had to subjugate... he needed these guys out if the equation... well, he needed...
He needed to stay awake. And he needed to be able to fight. He was markedly less worried about Gannon and Lenny. They seemed to be in their own world of clumsy drunken shenanigans. Ren surveyed the room like an eagle, probably serving as bodyguard for his friends. And Orsino. What the fuck was Orsino's deal? Fucking staring at the fire and muttering about death in Italian.
Oh, shit. Was Orsino a cultist? Boris decided to dangle a little bait.
"Scooby... see if you can't share some Ligh' wi'the girls."
"I'll be exposed, Boris..."
"Yez, you will. I've got you."
"You can't metabolize that alcohol."
"I've got you."
"That's comforting...." Scooby fluttered out and began healing Mila and Rowain to the best of his ability. As Boris had suspected, Orsino's gaze was drawn away from the fire, his deranged eyes fixated on Boris's ghost. Boris turned to catch Ren also staring, but something was different about the energy behind his and Orsino's stares. Ren's was curious and wary. Orsino's was that of a predator who's just seen his prey.
Alas, Boris could not just kill the man without due cause, else he and the girls would be slaughtered by the rest of them. He needed Orsino to go for the kill, and he needed to make sure he was the target. How to do this? How to make himself more of a target than the nearly-dead unconscious women he came with? Only one thing came to his mind. It might not have been the ideal thing, but it was all he could think to do.
"Hey, Ren. You seem sober enough t'follow explations, yeah?" Boris said loudly, waving over the Japanese stoic, who set down his drink and approached the spot where Boris's ghost funneled Light into Mila and Rowain, whose wounds began to very slowly improve.
"I'm listening", he said, glancing at Orsino before turning back to Boris.
"I wanna splain what'n Exo is. Remem'r from earl'er? We're from a very different time than this, you prob'ly figured from the clothes and everything. This lil' guy is called an Exo. He fixes us up when we're or'inarily too busted to live. It's called a reset when that happens. It's top-secret state'a the art military technology. Won't be invented for another 4,000 years. Even time travel comes first."
"Lui sta mentendo", Orsino said.
"Che?" Ren responded.
"Mentisce. Ci prende per gli sciocchi."
Ren drew his pistol on Boris, and turned back to Orsino. "Come lo sai?"
"So chi è. Sono tra quelli che cerco."
"We've found Orsino's bounty!" Ren shouted. Gannon and Lenny stood at the closest thing to attention they were capable of.
"Ah, shit. Ghosts, all of you, pour everything you got into Mi", Boris said before drawing a handcannon and firing. He managed to hit Lenny and Gannon before being himself gunned down by Orsino and Ren.
Who, in turn, were shot by Mila.
"I did it, Mi. I got us out of this jam", Boris rasped.
"Not exactly, but we did take care of the immediate threat. Still injured though."
"Ah, we can take care of that."
"How?"
"Uhh.... just trust m--"
A shift in scenery, and something new in the corner of their once-more helmeted vision:
Offerings remaining: 26/30
"Oh shit, what's this mean?"
"So yeah, that's why we need to stick close together and stay focused."
"But Chandy, here's what I'm not understanding", Freya said. "The road changes at will, yes?"
"Yes."
"But knowing landmarks anchors it to a specific path?"
"Yes."
"So if I know, say, that traffic light a ways back, I can count on ending up at this generator here?"
"If you expect to, yeah. There are setpieces and they're linked together and if you memorize how they match up you can walk that path again. The more you do it, the more that path solidifies for you. If you aren't sure where you are, it'll kinda randomly generate until you do, one way or another. It's pretty simple."
"I have a question though, Chandy", Eldris interjected. "If this is the Valley of the Radio Towers, where are the, ah.... radio towers?"
"They're not usually visible, ironically. They loom over the whole forest, but being in the valley themselves, it's easy for them to get blocked out by the treeline. Being that we're passing the Small Generator Station, we're on track to get a pretty nice vista of them soon enough. They'll appear close here; it's actually fairly difficult to, er, actually reach the radio towers, and even if you did, erm, you might not want to. They're not entirely dissimilar to sirens. They tend to get this... hold on people, that draws them nearer and deeper into the forest. Which, of course, is always dark. The Valley is a set shape during the daytime, which rarely comes and passes quickly. It's not very mystical during the day, which has its perks and downsides. Not dangerous, but also much less interesting and useful."
"How much farther until we reach this altar or whatever?"
"Not that far beyond the sight of the towers. We'll reach the crest of this hill, see the towers, then head to the bottom of the hill and there should be a house. It is a dark and dangerous house, but we need to harness its altar. I advise keeping armed and alert."
Soon they reached the hill's apex, and in the distance approximately, at least so it appeared, a mile away, were a trio of tall, slender lattice towers, made visible by the loud red lights which blinked periodically along their lengths. Indeed, to behold them gave rise to complicated feelings, of longing and devotion under a veneer of deep primal wariness.
"I won't stop you from looking at the towers, but you must not allow yourself to give in to their siren call. We are in the heart of the Valley. If we stay pure in our focus, we could end this tonight."
"Aktaf... did you kill someone...?"
"I was about to ask you that! Because we have not."
"This must be taking into account the rest of our fireteam..."
"What's supposed to happen if we reach 30 deaths?"
"I don't know! I get the impression it's probably nothing that benefits us."
"Yeah, that makes sense. So what's the gameplan, Windsor? If the red cultist is dead, and the bull is dead, what's... what's next?"
"I don't know! I'm... I'm going to head up Wall Street, see if I can navigate towards the World Trade Center. Head up, get a view, see if...maybe I'll notice something you didn't. I'm spitting in the dark here."
"Well, I'll have you know I am filled with the utmost confidence right now. Definitely not worried at all."
"Don't be so pessimistic, guys!" Liesel interjected.
"Yeah, you're right..." Aktaf admitted. "OK, Windsor, we're still gonna head your way. We're leaving through the theatres now."
"This is the place."
"This is the house? Can you really even call it a house?"
"It's more homey on the inside. It's intact, at least. And it really does look like a house."
"This is a bunch of fucked-up sheet metal rusted together into a shape vaguely resembling some kind of building."
"C'mon, Freya, you oughta be used to this sort of thing by now!" Chandragupta teased as he jumped into the knee-deep water and waded past the tall reeds and decomposing old road signs that pocked the marsh. Following close behind, the others waded after him into the much-larger and statelier interior, which resembled the home of a well-to-do family of perhaps the 1920s. Dimly-lit only by a red glow from deeper within, the four of them stalked forth towards the light source. Passing through a living room and a dining room, they found, in place of a kitchen, a room dedicated to a strange altar, one which radiated a heady, reverberating power, neutral yet strained through a sieve of darkness and malicious intent.
Startled by an inhuman cry of some unintelligible language, the fireteam turned to see they were surrounded by a wall of cultists, distinguished from the others by the presence of more gold chains about their bodies, and that their skull masks were deformed and mutated. They brandished makeshift medieval weaponry; morningstars made from bricks and bikechains, mauls made from metal pipes, baseballs and nails.
"Not today", Chandragupta wrathfully declared, initiating a Stormtrance and paralyzing the lot of them. "Use your Light! It may be weaker, but you should be able to pile it up or something! Just barrage them!!"
Eldris flung a blizzard of flaming knives, killing those stunned by Chandragupta. Freya laid a tether by the door, and Ariadne waded through the ensnared cultists delivering point-blank burst fire to their faces. Left and right they dropped, an increasing variety of weaponry flying from their dying hands. Small, bladed pyramids. Bottles with triggers. A Vex slap rifle. Bullets threaded on chains.
Chandragupta powdered the altar with various sacred dusts. The room began to gradually shift to a bluer tone. He focused...
Offerings remaining: 9/30
"Windsor! Chandragupta for you!"
"Patch him in, Akhenaten!"
"Hey, Windsor? It's Chandragupta, can you hear me?"
"I can hear you! What the fuck's going on out there!?"
"Cultist enclave in the Valley of the Radio Towers! And we can use Light again! It's even stronger now that we've taken out the red priest."
"Chandy, noooooo...."
"What?"
"You don't see that? The offering tally? It dwindles whenever one of us causes a death?"
"Uhhh none of us have it!"
"I haven't been killing anyone. Not since the Red Bull of Spain."
"You... you killed the Red Bull of Spain...!?"
"It was possessed! A high priest killed himself and the bull attacked me!"
"Oh--ooooohhhhh... that makes sense... Windsor, we... we're almost done, but... this last part is gonna be a liiiittle hard."
"Better tell me fast before you kill the last few cultists, then!"
"We're all going to the Royal Crypt. Full Light. But we're going in duos, and there will be no communication until we stand before Basileos Megán and Archaeos Therón. And, we don't have a chance to prepare for them. We're gonna... we're just gonna rawdog the kings."
"So we want to kill people?"
"Well, I mean... we're not supposed to find it easy. We really lucked out with this little cloister here, eh?"
Ariadne gunned down yet another of the cultists. He fell backwards and knocked down a shelf, upon which was a gun, and while it was the least bizarre weapon of all that she had seen, the sight of it hit her almost like a flashbang. She picked it up. Inspected it. Checked every last detail to make dead sure it was really it. Time slowed down and the world fell away as she studied the gun in her hands.
The room dissipated before Ariadne's eyes as she holstered The Hummingbird, still clutching its grip.
Submitted November 30, 2019 at 07:47AM by KhazemiDuIkana https://ift.tt/2rAJcHx
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