by Logan Jacobs
“Go, Marc Havak!” Artemis screamed. Her face wrenched into a snarl as she held a demon at arm's length with her left hand, while her right had one pinned to the desk with the barrel of the gun. “The gate is ready. Go!”
The room was a broiling ocean of demons. We were about to be overrun. Crippling fear shot through me, and my mouth tasted like metal. Indecision gripped my brain in a vice. Time seemed to stop for a split second that could have been an eternity.
I turned to look at the path to safety, out of this hellscape of a moon. Ten more short feet and the nightmare would be over. I could rest. Safe. Sound. Secure.
Then I looked back at Artemis, still gorgeous even amid this sea of snarling horror, her face a raging mask of defiance. Great uncle Joe always said that he and the rest of the guys he was in the war with were just regular people who managed to rise to greatness when fate gave them the chance. Heroes weren’t some gung-ho caricature rushing into battle with no fear. Heroes were the everyday joe-bag-o-donuts who managed to screw together enough courage to rush into battle despite the fear. That bravery was what you did in that split second when you made the choice to run, or stay and fight.
As everything speed back up to normal speed I made my choice.
I took off in a dead sprint toward a diode to my left as it crackled with energy. I figured if I hit the thing hard enough I could knock it over into the crowd of demons and give us a second or two to make a run for it. The base of the diode looked sturdy, so I’d have to hit it hard and near the top to knock it over which meant I needed to run as fast as I could. Thinking of Artemis I pumped my legs like pistons on a death machine hot rod hell-bent on destruction.
A battle roar rushed from my lungs, and just before I hit the diode stand I lowered my shoulder and launched myself like a linebacker sacking a quarterback. The Kevlar-like plastic of my armor saved my shoulder from dislocating as the force I’d built up slammed into the diode. I tumbled to the side, and the diode tipped over into the snarling mass of demons. As it hit the floor the energy coming out of the top split and multiplied like black snake fireworks a million watts strong and danced out into the room.
I heard a series of squishy pops, like if you overcook a hotdog in a microwave, and saw the energy branch out around the room as if shot from a turbo-charged Tesla coil. Every demon it landed on exploded in a ball of bright fire.
Scrambling to my feet I skirted the grasp of a demon and headed for Artemis who still held her own, barely. As I reached her, I brought the barrel down on the head of a demon as it went in for the kill and knocked it to the floor. Artemis spun and put her last bullet into the demon’s head. I grabbed her by the shoulder and flung her around toward the gateway.
Our feet slid on the blood smeared floor as we scrabbled toward the blackness of the gateway. I could almost feel its subtle pull reeling us in. We were neck and neck on a race for survival when I felt my hackles rise, and I knew there was a demon about to take us down. Artemis turned to look at me as I shoved her ahead of me into the gateway.
“Marc--“ she cried, her face a mask of surprise, just before she blinked out of existence.
I felt the claw pierce my armor and sink into my shoulder just as I spun to face the demon I knew was on my heels.
My feet tangled, and I tripped and fell backward, the demon above me, its grotesque mouth almost at my throat. My arm thrust forward, and the barrel slammed into the creature's mouth with the sound of teeth shattering as The Eradicator fulfilled its namesake one last time.
“Not today, Satan,” I yelled as I pulled the trigger, “Not today!”
The demon’s head evaporated as I careened into the darkness of the gateway. I had time to manage one small smile before my atoms were torn apart.
Chapter Six
One second I was in a room full of demented once-human demons, the next, every single molecule in my body exploded outward, got shoved through a straw, extruded like quantum Play-doh, and then slammed back together with great prejudice. The fall I had started in the mat-trans room continued here, wherever here was, and I fell three feet to the floor and landed flat on my back. The Newton’s cradle arms slowed to a standstill above me.
I laid there for a long second, just breathing.
“Ow,” I finally muttered. Then it hit me. “Where the hell is Artemis?” I shouted.
Six short, stubby, ugly, yet very strong alien hands reached in from above and somehow pushed me to my feet. I was in a room very similar to the one I had just left, except, no demons. It looked better used and more lived-in.
Three small, incredibly ugly, alien creatures made sure I was steady and then backed away quickly. I was going to ask where they were going, but then the room turned into a damn merry-go-round for a second, and it was all I could do to keep from puking. I bent over, held myself up on my knees, and took several long, deep breaths. Beads of cold sweat like hangover morning dew popped out on my forehead as saliva flooded my mouth.
“Oh, boy,” I muttered as I felt my stomach start to churn and clench. “You will not throw up. You will not throw up,” I chanted.
A few more deep breaths and the saliva flood of biblical proportions receded, the sweat dried up, and the angry vice around my stomach slowly relaxed. I stood up, still a touch light-headed but, for the most part, none the worse for wear. The little alien dudes looked at me with awe-filled eyes. They shot glances at each other, spoke in what sounded like garbled consonants, and walked back over to me.
I passed a hand over my eyes, wiped away the last few remaining drops of sweat, and looked around the room. I didn’t see Artemis anywhere.
“Hey, where is Artemis, you freaky little space leprechauns?” I yelled at them.
The ugly aliens didn’t seem concerned at all. They had moved on to recalibrate the machine or something technical because all of them had gone to a console, or lever, or something as they made themselves look busy.
“Hey,” I yelled as frustration and anger welled up inside me, “you little cosmic Hobbits! Where’s the girl who should have gotten here just before I did?”
They either didn’t understand or didn’t care.
Neither was acceptable.
I reached over and yanked one of the little dudes off the ground by his shirt collar. He was surprisingly dense, but thankfully I didn’t drop him. He started to flail about and squeal like a ferret. I pulled him up, so we were face to face.
“Look here, Tyrion, I know you know what I’m talking about so get with the talking!” I threatened, my voice booming. The little guy jabbered in a language that was surprisingly deep and resonant that I did not understand in the least.
“Gah!” I uttered in frustration and was just about to let the shithead down when another voice, more resonant and booming, came from behind me.
“Put the Bunsaighdiúir down, human!” the voice commanded with a tone that was used to people doing what it said. I was already in the process of doing so as the little dude wiggled furiously, and his collar slipped out of my hand. He dropped the remaining foot to the floor where he hauled ass.
I turned and found myself face to face, or rather face to massive pectoral muscle, with a seven-foot tall, two-hundred-forty pound, well-muscled humanoid being with a ram’s horns that curled out of his temples and extended to the back of his skull.
He looked to be in his mid-fifties and was dressed in what I can only describe as Conan the Barbarian meets The Devil Wear Prada. Or D&D smashed with Spelljammer. WoW combined with Overwatch. However you wanted to tackle it, he had on a pair of tan, skin-tight animal hide leggings that were lined with black pinstriping like slacks on a 1940’s mobster. A pair of chocolate brown Ren Faire boots covered his feet, accented with gleaming brass buckles that ran in a horizontal line from ankle to brim, with matte black tubing that laced up the front in an ornate pattern.
In the other direction, his bits and pieces were covered with a loincloth made from spun chrome fastened with a wide leather belt that closed at his belly butt
on with a hammered silver buckle in the shape of a hexagon. A mean looking pistol was attached to a magnetic holster that hung down from the belt and buckled to his thigh with ornate clips shaped like scorpions.
The Space Conan was bare-chested, because of course he was, with a 300 type blood-red cloak falling from his back complete with chest accentuating straps wrapped around his shoulders to keep it in place. Dark leather bracers with neoprene sleeves covered his bulging forearms, bright LED displays embedded in them. His hands were clasped in front of him on the pommel of a long sword with the tip pointed down, almost leaning on it as his stern, unblinking eyes bore into me like a drill.
He looked a lot like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, almost uncannily so.
“Thank you,” Space “The Rock” Johnson said in a tone that did not thank me in the least. “He was just doing his job and didn’t understand a word you were saying. I see you are upset, but that is no reason to act like an asshole.”
I was going to argue with him, but he did make a point. Wasn’t the little Brunswager’s fault.
“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just that--” I said worriedly. “I need to find my friend. She should have come through the mat-trans seconds before I did.”
“Artemis is fine, human,” he assured me with the hint of a smile on his stern lips. “Once it was clear you were coming through the gate in one piece, she was taken to be debriefed, to receive the information about your calibration trial, and to prepare for your arrival in our training facility.”
“Oh, good,” I gushed as relief washed over me. Space “The Rock” Johnson just stared at me intimidatingly. “Um, yeah, I mean, cool. Good. She was alright if you like that whole hot, funny, intelligent, adorable, and also kind of badass thing.”
“Are you still talking, human?” he said with not even the slightest hint that he might be joking or busting my balls. “Well, at least you didn’t puke. That is something.”
“Um, nope,” I replied, not sure what else to say. “Puke I did not.”
He raised an eyebrow at me from behind the pommel of his sword and made me wonder if The Rock was actually a member of an alien race.
“So, hi,” I said and reached out with my right hand. “My name is Marc.”
He didn’t move a muscle, but I’d overcommitted to the handshake, and my momentum carried my hand right through his hands on the pommel of the sword. His whole body shimmered like a bit of not-fully-rendered CGI, and I saw a small red sphere hovering off the ground about four feet behind him. It had a big glass eye in the center of it that projected what I surmised to be a hologram.
“I know what your name is, fool.” He chuckled. “You are Marc Caleb Havak, chosen champion for the planet Earth.”
“Whoa,” I interrupted, “are you a freaking hologram?”
“Yes, I am,” he answered with a frustrated sigh. “Your powers of observation are boundless. Now, as I was saying, I am your designated trainer for however long you may last in the Forge of Heroes,” he said with a flourish. “You may call me simply Grizz.”
“Hi, Simply Grizz,” I said in an attempt to be cheery. “Nice to meet you. Grizz is a pretty cool name. Is it short for anything?”
“Yes,” Grizz answered curtly, then just continued to stare at me intently.
Looked like I would not be having a Rocky-Mick relationship with this guy.
He strode past me and through a large sliding door out into the hallway. I assumed I was supposed to follow, so I did.
Once through the door, I found myself in a very long hallway that went on endlessly in both directions. Grizz was nowhere to be found. I was about to turn around and go back to questioning the Beowolfs when Grizz appeared just off my left shoulder.
“I hope you move faster on the battlefield, human,” he said. I jumped from the surprise.
“Holy shit!” I yelled angrily, “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Good,” Grizz growled, “you need to be scared, human. This is no game.”
“It’s kind of like a game, really,” I said with just a touch of sarcasm.
“Yes, technically, it is a game,” Grizz sputtered, “but a game of death!”
His hologram paced around me, longsword propped on his shoulder.
“The Crucible of Carnage is no child’s play or flight of fancy,” he said, his voice heavy with respect. “No, this is a contest for the survival of galaxies and the glory of victory.”
“That’s what I keep hearing,” I said, not able to keep the sarcasm at bay this time. “I still don’t even know what the fuck is really going on. Four hours ago, I was getting kind-of asked on a date, and now, I’m supposed to be the savior of my entire goddamn planet.”
Grizz had stopped walking and just looked at me, his one eyebrow raised again.
“And while I’m asking some things,” I spouted off, “what the hell kind of name is Grizz, anyway?” I hadn’t known half those feelings were in there, much less aware that I apparently really needed to let them out.
“Hmm,” Grizz mumbled as he rubbed his chin, “there may indeed be a fire in you after all. Either that or you are colossally stupid.”
“I’m going to save you the trouble of guessing, Grizz,” I barked. “I must be colossally stupid for standing here and arguing with a damn hologram!”
In a blink, he was in my face, all seven feet of him looming over me, a sneer of feral ferocity on his face.
“You do not know even a fraction of what you do. Not. Know. Boy. I could be a creature of light, able to blast you into atomic sludge, or a Whisp Glamor from Rocraltha able to enter your body through your pupils to turn you into a meat puppet.”
Grizz took two steps back and swung his mighty longsword down in an arc toward me. I watched as the electrified blade sliced through my body without doing any damage.
“You are lucky I died in the Crucible a century of your Earth years ago,” Grizz said as he sheathed the longsword in a back sling. “What you see here is just the electronic ghost of what I once was. My name in the language of the Ar-X'ans-Oturi, my people, is a long and illustrious one conveying valor, courage, and savagery. It was spoken with reverence and pride. It would be incomprehensible in your nonsense language, so I shortened it to something you could say. Grizz.”
“Thanks,” was all I was able to eke out. This guy meant business. He was sort of mean and a bit of a dick, but dammit if I didn’t like the guy. Something about him reminded me of my Great Uncle Joe, maybe it was the blunt honesty. Uncle Joe had a knack for cutting through to the core of something really fast and was never afraid to tell you exactly what he thought whether you liked it or not.
“So, are you a playback?” I asked.
“It is more complicated than that,” Grizz answered. I could see he was genuinely struggling with how to answer. “Think of me as,” his holographic eyes closed as he searched for the words, “a snapshot of my mind in the days before I died.”
“Okay, yeah, I think I get it,” I said excitedly. “Like your brain got uploaded into a computer.”
“Exactly!” Grizz yelled. “This sphere houses my personality, memories, everything that made me... me. Until the day I died. That experience I missed out on, having been compiled just two hours before my final match.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, “that must be weird, huh?”
“You have no idea,” Grizz said almost under his breath.
The wall of the hallway became a large floor to ceiling window as we continued to walk. A massive alien city, looking both ancient and futuristic at the same time, spread out before me in a sprawl of skyscrapers, ribbons of crisscrossing roads with speeding hover-cars, and more beings walking the streets then the mind could comprehend.
“Whoa,” I mouthed out of pure reflex.
“It is an exquisite sight, is it not, human?” Grizz said with reverence right beside me. “Hopefully, it will not be the first and last glimpse of Valiance City you get.”
Three large moons sat on the horizon, glowing
as bright as any sun, sending rays of blue moonlight cascading over the bright metal towers of the massive city. On the other side of the sky, I could make out the image of three large suns in a permanent state of solar eclipse, their orange fiery outer centers covered by dark discs of nothingness.
“I hope so too,” I said in a soft whisper, and I very much meant it. As weird as tonight had been, and it had been really freaking weird, I was still amazed at all the things I had seen and done already.
The window finally ended, and I found myself in a high-tech, state-of-the-art training facility. At the far end of the room were a big bank of computers and various other fantastically futuristic gadgets and gizmos.
Artemis stood in front of the computer, her back to us, as she studied readouts and typed into a small keyboard. As we got close, Grizz cleared his throat in what I assume he thought was a nonchalant gesture, but sounded like a battle cry.
Artemis spun on her heels and looked at us, and a smile burst onto her gorgeous face as she rushed over. She looked as good as new. Not a scratch on her, and her jumpsuit, zipper still at half mast, was clean as a whistle.
“Shut the front door!” Artemis blurted out. “You’re finally here! I knew you’d make it.”
Artemis ran over, jumped into my very surprised arms, wrapped her legs around my hips, and kissed me hard on the mouth. Her lips were warm and very soft and tasted like cherry chapstick. I could feel every inch of her legs as they held on tight around my waist, and her pelvis gyrated into my stomach. Her firm, full breasts pressed heavily against my chest. I would have faced a hundred more moons of doom for a welcome like that.
I felt the briefest flicker of her tongue against my lips before she pulled back, her face excited and flushed red, and hopped off me. She held her hand up, her palm facing me, in what I assumed was a request for a high-five. Not to leave her hanging, I obliged, which, given the fact that a second earlier we had basically been dry humping standing up, seemed a little odd, but she seemed thrilled.