Even though he'd mastered his gifts Cian always hated 'shapeshifting'. For one, it wasn't as exciting or sexy as other arts of transformation known to magi kind. There were no smoke or mirrors or contortions of the body and face--just tricking the minds of others into thinking who they were looking at was someone else. Cian had never been able to escape from himself. That was the problem. Now? He wished he was simple Cian, fighting with his friends and not someone grossly unqualified to be assisting Sydney's dark mage 'Shadow Unit' in hunting down a terroristic summoner.
Cian looked to the other cops, and pantomimed holding a pistol that wasn't there. Having assumed the identity of Officer Kenneth (thanks to Daemian's devilish interference), Cian followed the small squadron of riot police stalking their way through the twilit hallway of the Customs House lobby. With Daemian and Spike dealing with that...thing in the harbour directly, Cian had been tasked with hunting down Redback, wresting whatever summoning implement Firebird's assassin-for-hire had used to conjure and bind that otherwordly horror in the harbour.
He was starting to sweat. Keeping up the façade was a constant process of feeding energy. Cian knew little of the science behind the magick, only that his cellular reserves and mitochondria were all burning up energy to fuel his glyph. A few strange, second glances from the moustached officer on the right told him he was starting to lose his grasp. On his left, the woman with the tired eyes kept looking at him and blinking, her mind on the edge of realizing something was 'off' with Officer Kenny (the real chap somewhere in a back alley, drooling on himself).
Cian couldn't keep this up for much longer. Besides all that, his gut told him something was seriously amiss here too. He chalked it up to stress. It was, after all, a tense situation in a somewhat eerie locale. The architecture in Sydney's CBD was something out of a beautiful, twisted fairy tale--a fusion of gothic and Victorian sensibilities, with a sprinkling of 'vampire'.
Redback was no doubt aware of their presence--hiding and waiting, as spiders were wont to do. And once he noticed that they didn't come to hand over the Chalice (Goddess knows where it really was), he would retaliate, either by assaulting them or sicking that creature on the innocents of Sydney.
The officers, with this in mind, softened their footsteps as they walked onto the House's transparent, glass floor. Cian could see into the basement below.
"Something's wrong," Cian said without thinking.
The four other officers, guns at the ready, turned their heads to him, glaring.
The moustached man took him aside, pushing at his chest with considerable force. He leaned in close. "Don't get soft on us now, Kenny," he whispered aggressively. "And don't blow our cover either."
Cian didn't exactly like being shoved around by authority, but seeing the anti-magick cartridges strapped to their guns, it was probably best not to bite back. Besides, Cian was distracted by the metallic cuff around the officer's wrist. He too (in this form, anyway), had one fastened to his hand, as did the others. It took him a few moments to work out what the bracers were.
Dampeners. Most police wore them, naturally. Plenty of criminally predisposed magi out there who wouldn't spare a second thought at chucking a lightning bolt at anybody who got in their way. Cian was no fan of police, but he understood why they wore heavy duty anti-magick gear like these.
And as Cian realized just what was bothering him, gnawing at his better judgment, he noticed movement in the reflection of the glass floor.
Then, it hit him--just as Redback descended from the ceiling. If these cops were wearing dampening bracers, then how come his magick was still working on them?
Simple: because the bracers weren't working.
"UP TOP!" an office said, withdrawing their gun.
A little too late.
Redback's boot collided with the officer's face, breaking their nose instantly. The dark spellbreaker used their face as a springboard, jumping up into the air and avoiding a hail of bullets.
Cian, who didn't actually have a working gun, hit the deck and covered their ears from the hail of fire. He army-crawled off the floor, out of the fray. As he did, Cian heard the bodies fall--Redback's toxic touch working in the immediate.
"Tag!" Redback laughed as he flipped behind the moustache officer and touched him on the neck with his bare hands. "You're it. And you're it! HAHAHAHA!" The man convulsed, spittle falling from his mouth, as he collapsed to the glass floor, cold and dead.
Fear shot its way through Cian's heart, but even so, he had known fear like this before. His illusion broken, he looked over at the nearest pillar and pressed his back to it, re-casting his spell to make it seem as if he was part of the wall. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold it.
The officers lay in a circle around Redback, who surveyed his work, tipping up a fallen cop's chin with his boot and examining their face to make sure they were dead.
"You know, Cian," Redback started, "You really did show a lot of aptitude. I was one of the few who complained that Rage went too hard on you." He walked around the perimeter of the floor, head on a swivel, looking towards where Cian may have run off to. Cian held his breath.
"Quite frankly, I think old Ragey was jealous. Your star rose far too quickly, is all. You were humble. Kept your head up and your eyes down." Redback punched the pillar in front of him, then moved on to the next. "Oh please, you couldn't have gone that far. I know your little parlour tricks, boyo."
Cian tried to still his breathing. He knew he couldn't hold his magick before breaking, and he couldn't run either.
"Bet you're wondering how I disabled those dampeners too," Redback said, drawing closer and closer. "I don't think you realize Firebird's reach. We're always...a lot closer than you think."
At last, Redback stood in front of Cian. Cian froze, still as stone. He was sure he couldn't see him. But it didn't matter. If Cian ran, the illusion would break, and Redback was far too quick.
Suddenly, a groan from the floor drew Redback's attention to the cop. He was still alive. "Tch. I hate when that happens," Redback said.
Cian slowly exhaled, quiet enough.
Suddenly, Redback whipped around and lunged for him. "FOOLED YA! HAHAHA!"
His fingers were inches away from Cian's face when they...stopped.
Cian, craning his neck out of their toxic reach, blinked. Redback wasn't moving. Was he teasing with him; playing with his food?
But no. He had quite literally...stopped.
A cough alert Cian to the presence of someone else in the room. Standing, half illuminated by shadow, was a simply enormous figure obscured by a strange, canine-mask.
"Before you ask," the giant ask, in a voice deeply elegant and playful, "time freeze."
Cian's jawed dropped. He looked between Redback and the man in gold. "...What?
The giant shrugged. "Yeah, exactly like in science fiction." He stepped forward. "Deus ex machina...I know. So lame, Cian, right? But seeing as you're still alive, you can forgive the cliché. Er...again. Geez, Mr. Iron, now you. You boys really need to stop putting yourselves in these situations. Gets terribly old for the audience."
Cian swallowed. "Who the feck are you?"
"Just a token mysterious character with ambiguous goals and intentions. You know. The usual." The masked man looked to Redback. "Now, my powers are pretty good, but even my magick has its limits. He may have summoned that Lovecraft, but when he did, the book he used from the Black Library burned itself--as designed. He has NO control over it now."
"Shit," Cian said, forgetting where he was.
"Yeah, 'shit' is right. Faeblood, you need to go help your friends and get a handle on the situation." The caped man held up a finger. "In most timelines, you succeed. But Daemian isn't going to be able to complete the ritual alone. That thing out there has regenerative abilities. It cannot be damaged...except for one place. You need to get its middle eye to open. Then..." The massive man poked himself in the face. "Ow. But you get the drift."
Cian was confused as hell, but had no room to argue. He looked up at Redback. "Okay. Then, what...about this arsehole?"
The man in the mask grunted. "Unfortunately, he can't die or be dispatched here--it'll mess with the outcome I'm trying to wrangle. Leave him with me and go to your friends, Faeblood."
Suddenly, Cian connected the dots. "Lord and Lady almighty...you're that Gold Mask guy! You saved White Tiger from this arsefeck back in Vegas too!"
"Well, technically that was that nice security guard, but I pointed him in the right direction." The figure bowed, with a dramatic sweep of the arm. "Gold Mask. Jackal. At your service. I go by many names. Now, get moving. And...tell Spike I'll see him very soon."
Feeling like his heart might burst out of his chest, Cian nodded to the figure and dashed off.
The giant figure in the regal cape looked at Redback, frozen in time but already slowly moving forward, coming unstuck. Jackal grunted. "Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag now. If it isn't Russia's greatest love machine. How long have you been watching me?"
In the open floor above, overlooking the lobby, two pallid hands braced themselves against the glass barricade. Semyon Grigorivich, a smiling ghoul, looked down at their betrayer. "Long enough, my dear Jackal. I think we might need to have a serious talk about our partnership."
---
A tidal wave carried boats, and their doomed, screaming occupants, rolling towards the shores of Circular Quay, already flooded by the beast's first assault. Thankfully, the city's Shadow Unit of mages, and the affiliated police, had managed to evacuate the onlookers. Emergency vehicles clogged the streets of The Rocks and Barangaroo.
A swarm of winged demons fluttered and shrieked in the abomination's face, clawing at its eyes with infernal fury. The monster swatted at some, but more flung themselves on top of it, lashing at its rubbery skin and tearing open wounds that leaked green, glowing ichor. It was all the summoners could do to give the boats fanning out around it, in the shape of a pointed star, cover to get closer to their quarry.
Illuminated by the creature's ghostly glow, Daemian's eyes stared straight ahead at the beast from another world. Damn it, Joseph. If I die, you better date someone just as cool as me. He bit his lip, deciding whether or not he should summon Brax. He'd told him he would conjure him up if the going got tough. They were a tag team after all.
But...no. Daemian flirted with death all the time. Dying was easy (probably) Watching others die, however...
The dark magi nodded to his companions, dressed in their dark cloaks and sinister masks. "Alright, mates, listen the fuck up. I'm not really good at this leadership thing. I tend to boss people around or force them to do what I want. I'm also not very good at words. But we got this big ugly fuck who's messing with our beautiful city, and we're not going to take that laying down, are we!?"
The masked figures responded with hisses and clicks, in fiery agreement.
Daemian grimaced. Shit, they're A-level demon summoners. Traded in most of their humanity by now, no doubt. These people knew about sacrifice, clearly.
Did he?
Looking down at the dodecahedron glowing in his hand, Daemian turned towards the Harbour bridge, where Spike was waiting on the empty bridge.
And panicking. To the left and right of him, abandoned vehicles--old model cars that looked like something a wealthy Dr. Frankenstein would drive around town. Spike considered jumping in and hotwiring one (yes, he knew how) and driving off.
"I'm just one guy!" he said to nobody. "I just wanted to be a spellbreaking champ, not some...super hero!" He sighed, already defeated. "I can't do the shit Deadboy and White Tiger can do, or even Colt. And where the hell is Iggy Astro?"
Meanwhile, in a lavish spa several miles away from the epicentre of destruction, Iggy Astro splayed out across a masseuse table, getting a deep tissue massage from a hunky, dark-haired man. Yawning, Iggy threw a glance at the TV, where a news helicopter was doing a panoramic sweep of the ongoing giant monster disaster in Sydney Harbour.
Iggy regarded the scene on TV for a few moments, before he turned his head away and mumbled, "A little lower, please."
In the Harbour, the giant monster let out another unearthly bellow, and threw its tentacle out at the crow demon assault. Its hit swept several out of the sky, down into the sea. On the boat below, several summoners around Deadboy clutched their hearts in agony, crying out, as the soul bond to their demonic kindred severed.
Daemian cringed, but forced himself to ignore the pain around him (for once, a pain he did not wish to see). The Configuration of Martense floated above his palms, and he pushed himself into a trance, eyes glowing violet. He began reciting the dark tongues, while off in the distance, his fellow summoners did the same. Particles of blue light began floating up from the bottom of the sea. It was working. Slowly. Too slow for Daemian's liking.
The aberration writhed, sensing an attack on its being. The monstrosity, having tossed aside his airborne assailants, turned its two eyes towards the fleet of demoniacs below. The creature let out a low hum, and a slit in the center of its forehead opened up--revealing a huge, orange, shining eye. Its luminosity intensified. A crackle in the air proceeded a flash, and then...
The beam of light, louder than anything Spike had ever heard before, cut through the water--turning the seawater into vapor in its path--and completely incinerating the boat of summoners in its way. Only steam remained.
On the boat a few feet away, Daemian, still focusing on his ritual, began to tear up.
However, on the shore, a dogpile of the self-same dark summoners suddenly found themselves squirming on top of each other, unsure of why they weren't dead, and why they had suddenly ended up on the promenade. Grunting, their leader adjusted her plague doctor mask and looked up.
Sitting at a table outside a closed cafe, a middle-aged dark skinned man in koala pyjamas raised his mug of tea to her. "Cheers, love," Uncle Daniel said. "Don't tell Lachlan I gave him a mulligan."
Of course, from his perspective on the bridge, Spike only saw the boat vaporized, and not Uncle Daniel's teleportation intervention.
"FUCK!" Spike screamed, taking his hands off his ears. "Shit, shit. How can this get any worse?"
"Hey, Spike!"
"Now I'm hallucinating Buck being here," Spike whined, until he realized that the handsome, tall man in the leather jacket bounding towards him was, in fact, his friend, boss, and current crush.
"You gotta' be freakin' kiddin' me!"
All smiles and determination, Buck jumped into Spike's arms, giving him a tight hug. "I just got into town and suddenly Sydney is being attacked by a giant monster. Spellbreaking is nuts, y'all!" His mood did not fit the scene at hand. In fact, he regarded the giant as if it was a particular challenging opponent, one Buck was eager to attack. "Er...don't tell my daddy I'm here, got it?"
"Last thing on my mind right now," Spike said with shaking timbre. Oh Goddess, now I have to protect Buck too. "Buck, what are gonna do? You don't even have powers."
The dark-haired son of spellbreaking's greatest hero gave Spike a quick glare. "We gotta distract it right?" he said, reaching into his leather jacket. He withdrew a--
"IS THAT A FRICKIN' GUN!?" Spike screamed.
Buck cocked the handsome revolver. "I'm from Texas, Spike. You don't think I know how to shoot a gun?"
"AGAINST THAT THING?"
"Calm down, Yankee! This has got anti-magick bullets in it. And boy, do they make this thing kick like a mule." He winked, twirling the gun in his hand. "Just don't ask how I snuck this through customs. Also, cover your ears. Now."
Before Spike could protest, Buck took aim and fired. With the distance between the bridge and the beast, Spike didn't think a bullet could possible travel that far, or that Buck's aim was that proficient.
Thankfully, he was wrong on both counts. A spray of crystalline light, and a geyser of green blood, shot out from the beast's head--only for the wound to quickly reseal itself. Still, it did the job. The creature's roar shook the bridge with violent reverberation, as the monster turned its sights on the two men standing at a distance.
"Distraction complete," Buck said, smiling. He threw up a middle finger at the monster. "Come suck on this, you slimy fuck!? Buck's got more bullet for ya!"
Great. This guy who isn't even a spellbreaker is braver than I am. "Now you've pissed it off! And it's coming this way!"
Buck frowned at Spike. "I'm giving Deadboy more time. If you want to run, be my guest, dude."
As if Spike would make himself cowardly in front of his crush. "I hate that you're making me be brave right now."
"You think I would be here if you hadn't inspired me?" Buck said. He reached into a (different) pocket and withdrew a familiar baseball card. "Looks like you could use this. Served me well."
A hundred emotions rushed inside Spike's head, and for a moment he forgot all about the giant, three-eyed creature currently slithering towards them. Wordlessly, Spike took the card back, staring down at in wonder.
My...heart. "So...you saw your mother?"
Buck nodded, solemnly. "Yes. You were the only person I told ahead of time."
"What? Why?"
"I dunno," Buck said, shrugging and turning away before Spike could see the red on his cheeks. "Because I just trust you for some reason? Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Yankee--there's a lot of stuff you do that really makes me think differently."
There was too much going on right now for Spike to properly absorb this information, or what this meant, and it wasn't as if he was normally quick on the uptake by default. Spike opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "Buck...I think I'm hearing music." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Reminds me of...ice cream."
Buck stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. "Uh...what?"
The tinny, circus music drew closer. Spike looked over his shoulder, at the gap between the abandoned cars. "No, I'm serious, what the hell is that sound?"
The vehicle was midway between a colorful, child-like ice cream van and something out a dystopian science fiction film. Mad Max meets Mr. Softie. Two, geared up, muscular spellbreakers--wearing outfits not unlike the ones Spike had seen first-hand at certain fetish nights--stood up from the sun-roof. They were already a sight, ignoring the fact that both men had a different bird's head, relative to the size and approximation of where a human head might be.
The discordant ice-cream jingle cut off as the van did a wide arc, burning rubber, and landing just inches away from a stunned Spike. Two other spellbreakers jumped out from either side door--one, a short, punkish girl with Asian features and a mohawk (and hundreds of jagged metal objects sticking out of her skin) and a giant man in ghoulish clown makeup with pink overalls strapped over his bare muscular chest.
"HELLO KIDDIES," the creepy, muscle-clown boomed at Spike, who was several seconds off from pissing himself. "sXS all-star champs here to save your seppo arses! You didn't think we'd let our old mate Deadboy get blasted by a cyclopean horror, did you? Er...I mean, it wouldn't be the first time."
Stunned, Spike's jaw hit the ground. Buck, however, acted as if he'd just been blindsided by celebrities. "OH MY GODDESS!" Buck exclaimed. "Ice Cream Man! And...and Reza Blaydes! And is that Swoop and Bin Chicken up on top?"
The hook-billed spellbreaker cocked its head to the side and 'CAWWED' the affirmative.
Spike shook his head. "Deadboy's old crew! Yes!" He pointed to the monster bearing down on them, "HELP. US."
The short girl sprouted blades from her fingertips. "Right-o, you giant, green c***t. Let's get 'em, boys. Swoop. Bin Chicken. Fly us up to that ugly fuck and we'll buy Daemian some time."
Spike couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're gonna, like, kamikaze them?" He looked at the height of the (moving, angry) monster, and the drop to the harbour below. "Are you nuts?"
The punk girl smiled. "100%! chock-full, chook!"
Buck, however, was impressed. "Shit, can you come work for us?"
"Don't you dare pouch my best gal, Buck Tamberly!" Ice Cream Man said, as Swoop hopped off the truck--wings sprouting from his back--and grabbed onto his shoulders. "But if we live through this, we gotta' talk collaboration! I'll put Bruce in touch with your team!"
"After this?" Spike shouted, gesturing broadly to the chaos.
"Hell yeah!" Ice Cream man said, as Swoop lifted him up. "You GSA legends came into town and now things are more exciting than ever! Been too long since I wrestled a kaiju."
Bin Chicken grabbed onto Reza, lifting her up into the Sydney sky. "WOOOOOooooo!"
Spike and Buck watched them with a mix of horror and amusement. "Aussies are a different breed," Buck said, admirably.
Swoop and Bin Chicken made a forked arc in the sky, diverging course around the beast as it swept at them with a tentacle. The birds circled behind it and dropped their respective payload, Reza and Ice Cream Man now in free fall towards the monster's 'shoulders'.
"CHOCOLATE, OR VANILLA!?" Ice Cream Man shrieked, as he conjured up two glowing, radioactive ice cream cone projectiles, sending them careening towards the beast. They exploded with frozen, poisonous light, blinding the creature. Somehow, the seasoned spellbreaker landed perfectly on top of the beast without injuring himself.
The creature groaned. Unable to use its eyes, its middle ocular--the one that had taken out the boat of summoners--opened up wide. Energy sizzled inside its orange, electric iris.
"Not so fast, FUCKER," Reza shrieked, as she turned her body into a living missile. "EAT SHRAPNEL!"
Hundreds of Reza's jagged, metal bullets sailed towards the monster's gooey eye, embedding themselves into the vitreous and forcing the creature to shut it tight. Steam radiated from the slit.
Reza landed on its other shoulder, acknowledging her clownish comrade across the chasm. She looked up, assessing the situation. "It's melting them with its heat. I reckon it's gonna open its peeper again and try and shoot Deadboy and his summoner chums. It's evolved to assess the nearest threat and dispatch it."
The evil clown man shook his head. "How the hell you know that?"
Reza shrugged. "Certificate IV Eldritch Horror Zoology at TAFE." She waived towards Buck and Spike, on the bridge. "You're up!"
"I'm up?" Spike squealed. He sighed and looked at Buck. "Okay so...I need you to punch me."
"Sounds fun," Buck said, without questioning it. "But why?"
"It's how my glyph activates," Spike blurted out, hands akimbo. "The harder the hit, the stronger I get. It's like, the energy of it that converts into my power."
Buck stared at him incredulously. "Really? So all those times I saw you fight and get knocked around, it was helping you?"
"Buck--I'm not a scientist! The only other time it's worked different is when Iggy kissed me. Something about emotions."
"Oh." Buck tucked the revolver back inside his coat. "So like, do you think a kiss from someone you like--or...who likes you--would make you even stronger?"
"I DUNNO, BUCK, WHY ARE YOU ASKING THIS? JUST HIT ME!"
"Hmm. Okay. It's gonna knock you silly though."
"Fine, just--"
Buck grabbed Spike behind the neck and pulled him in closer. His kiss was soft at first, then strong, deep. There was power behind it. And yearning. It was a hunger, animalistic, with passionate intent.
And, true to what Buck had said, it was like a smack to the face. Or a hit of some divine drug. Spike melted. There was no monster. There was no chaos or destruction. There was no GSA, Firebird, or thoughts of failure or success. There was only him and Buck, and this moment.
Well, not just him and Buck. As Buck embraced Spike, Cian--panting and out-of-breath--darted from behind one of the cars. "Guys," he said, stammering. "You gotta' distract the creature while Daemian....Oh." He stopped.
Unaware of Cian's presence, Buck pulled back, just as shocked as Spike--as if it had been the blonde hunk who had kissed him instead of the other way around. He cleared his throat. "Been wanting to do that for awhile. Maybe I got caught up in the moment? Not surprised I had to make the first move, but..." he scratched his neck, backing off. "How do you feel?"
When Spike looked up again, he was on fire.
No, literally. Orange and blue tongues of flame lapped off his body, and his glowed with cool, turquoise light. Burning golden, images of his glyph replaced Spike's pupils, inside the halo of his irises.
"Like...a fuckin' champion," Spike said, crystal clear. Without another word, he walked over to the largest car he could fine--a streamlined, torpedo of a sportscar--and picked it up as if it were a throw pillow. "Someone order up a half-pint hero?"
"Okay, Spike, don't get too---OH GODDESS, IS THAT A CAR?" Buck blinked, in disbelief. Hadn't Lily mentioned something like this before? She called it...
"Overdrive!"
"Hellll yeah." Spike said, holding up the bottom of the car--with one hand--and flexing his bicep with the other. "Strongest man in the world, right here. But...I can't do it alone. Oh hey, Cian, when did you get here?"
The muscular spellbreakers, saturated in his own sweat and ruddy faced, crossed his arms. "Been here long enough..." He nodded to Buck.
Spike, car still in hand, grimaced. "Hehehe. Well...you know..."
"Mmhmm."
Swoop and Bin Chicken zoomed down and plucked Reza and Ice Cream Man off the monster's shoulders before they could be thrown into the abyss. As Reza sailed through the sky, she pointed down at Spike, dazzled but what she saw. "Look at the Yank go!"
Sauntering over to the edge of the bridge (with a car hanging over his head) Spike looked up at this new allies. "It's all the Vegemite on toast I had for breakfast!" he said sweetly.
The Magpie-headed Swoop warbled with excitement. "Shit, and he likes Vegemite--he can stay with us. COME ON, SPIKEY, DO THE THING!"
It was then that Spike remembered...he was notoriously terrible at his aim. "Uhhh...."
Vision cleared, the beast opened its middle eye, staring straight down at the little human in his path. The monster roared, and tendrils of electricity danced across the luminous surface of its burning eye, as it gathered up energy.
It was going to incinerate Spike, Buck, Cian, and the Harbour Bridge with them.
Spike took his moment and aimed for the giant eye. "GAAAAHHH!"
Sure enough, the car sailed through the air.
...And completely missed the monster by several feet. Nobody said a word. The only sound came from the PLUNK made by the car as it landed in the waters below.
"...Crap."
But, on a boat several meters away, Deadboy's eyes changed color--from purple to neon green. He smiled. "Good enough, Spikey."
Pillars of light cut through the air at five equidistant points around the creature. Distracted from his target, the creature instead turned its eyes towards Deadboy's boat.
The demoniac, wrapped in hellish green fire, threw double middle fingers at the monster. "SUCK MY TAINT, LOVECRAFT--YOU RACIST FUCK!"
The sound of air rushing in overtook the harbour, deafening its roar. The pillars of light converged over the monster, and then...a flash. Blinding.
Gone.
To Be Continued
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