Queer Werewolves Destroy Capitalism

by MJ Lyons

  At one point in those depths we came up on a structure that broke the rocks and mud of the river bottom. Ji-min was confused, were we so close to the other side already? He took a step, and a buzzing came through our suits. The ground below him shuddered and a terrible wrenching of metals screeched through the water. The ground split in half before him and he began to slide.

  Somehow my gauntlet reached out and caught his arm, hooking around the verges in his armour. I pulled with all my might, helped by the power of the demon-possessed armour.

  “Warning,” the voice came through my helmet again. “Captain Vasiliev armour unit integrity weakening. Release before rupture in pressurization.”

  “Don’t let go!” Ji-min screamed, his terror ringing through my helmet. I swore at him and told him to get ahold of himself, and the side of the structure.

  Even with the armour it was a strain, but he finally managed to get his hand on the metal siding, and I released his arm, pulling him up by hooks on the back.

  He remained in a crawling position in his armour, panting. “How . . . did you . . . talk me . . . into this?”

  I was tempted to kick him back down the hole, but instead lowered myself to the ground beside him in an awkward squat. I surveyed the structure before of us with my armour’s demon vision, which dipped downward into a deep, curved bottom, a number of levels between us and the farthest we could see. This wasn’t a tower, but looked like a fishing boat made of metal on an unimaginable scale. Where the massive boat had ended up was merely another sign from the water goddess of the hubris of the Ancient empire.

  Soon the river bank inclined upwards ahead of us. Ji-min was now just as anxious as I to get out of the water, we spent over an hour scrambling up the algae slicked, mucky side of the old river. It felt like, more than once, we would get ten feet up only to grasp at nothing and slide fifteen feet back, but soon we found the underwater terrain flattened.

  “We’re in an old stretch of greenery, that’s why there’s so little sign of the Ancients’ structures,” Ji-min said, consulting a map he claimed was visible inside of his helmet and pre-dated the fall of that lost empire.

  The spirit within the armour told us we were “critically low on air” when a purple glow began to break through the water from above. Every step through the resistance of water and muck seemed to take an eternity, but I watched as Ji-min’s armour wavered and disappeared, and soon I followed. As he stood dripping, Ji-min muttered an incantation and the helmet lifted off his head, and I followed suit. We both took grateful gulps of air.

  We stood on the opposite bank of the river, the ruins of the soul city before us glimmered like dying embers as the sun dipped low in the west. We had walked through the realm of the water goddess, she who oversees a world of life and death, and we lived.

  “We’re close,” Ji-min said late the next morning.

  I was joyous to be mostly unarmoured and barefoot again, Cheonjiwang strapped to my back, my feet moving swiftly through the ruins. Even Ji-min walked along with his helmet carried beneath his arm, exalting in the fragrant breeze as we worked our way out of the thick of the city and into the southern mountains.

  Shortly after escaping the depths of the river, we had managed to crawl into a squat, burned and washed out dwelling of the Ancients. The two of us fell out of the back of the armour suits, our knees weak from nerves and exhaustion, giggling nervously, tears streaming down our faces. We pulled a single bedroll from Ji-min’s waterproof chest and my companion set the pair of demon armour on guard before we passed out in each other’s’ arms.

  Before we’d fallen asleep I kissed Ji-min and asked, “Should we succeed . . . and I’m still dubious . . . how will we get back? We won’t be able to go underwater again with what we’ll have.”

  He nodded sleepily, and nuzzled his nose into the crook of my neck. “We’ll find a way.”

  I was relieved. I prayed I wouldn’t need to enter the realm of the water goddess in such a way again until after I’d taken my last breath, and was returned to the water with my ancestors.

  Later in the afternoon we saw a column of smoke rising in the east, a distance away from the direction we were cutting through the ruins. There was a relatively intact structure of three levels, perhaps a home once, so I quickly scaled the side. Ji-min called up that he was impressed by my athleticism, and was admiring the view from below.

  I pulled Cheonjiwang over my shoulder and spoke the spell to call forth the bow’s magic eye. The eye focused, following the column to the source of the fire. There seemed to be a small, rough village by the water, based on the side of a small hill covered in trees, although much had been cut down. The huts clinging to the side of the hill were irregular, and from the lurching motion of the people moving about the village I could tell it was a community of shades. “They’re far enough to not be trouble, but close enough to keep an eye on,” I called down.

  After we broke our fast, we continued our hike up the side of the mountain, into a small dale between two peaks. “This was once a place for scholars of the Ancient empire, an academy of wisdom,” Ji-min explained. What was left of the buildings were smaller but still imposing, but also somehow more . . . comfortable looking then much of what we’d passed. I tried to imagine the young of the lost empire moving through the great archives and enormous halls of learning, their lives lit up by dancing lights, the demons that they summoned into the world empowering them, making what they could accomplish in their brief lives godlike. For what we sought at this place of learning was a power they must have stolen from the gods.

  Ji-min put on his helmet to lead us to the sanctum we sought. We rounded the ruins of a series of buildings where the Ancients’ academy met the mountain. There was a squat, stone structure with a heavy metal door in the front set into the mountainside. Around that door lazed a few dozen cats.

  “ . . . The hell?” Ji-min’s voice crackled from his helmet.

  The cats dozed in the sun, or cleaned themselves, or else went about their business of terrorizing small creatures of the world. A few gazed at us indifferently but made no motion to move, so we had to step carefully, as not to crush any of them, a more difficult task for Ji-min in his armour. He left one full set behind to guard the outer door, but advised it to leave the animals alone.

  “This should not be open,” he murmured, anxious, as we walked through the doorway and began down a ramp deeper into the mountain. “Could someone have found this place before us?”

  I barely paid him any attention as I glanced about in amazement. We were in an underground palace, or temple of sorts. The walls were gleaming metal or a shining white stone, impossibly clean, and the architecture was unlike anything I could describe. The air was cool, but not unpleasantly so. The sanctum hummed with life, no doubt some vestiges of the Ancients still alive in this place. It was positively infested with cats. Hundreds of them. We shooed the little devils out of our way every step we took.

  We came through another heavy metal door, wide open, into a long, cool room with banks of metal shelves. Strange structures seemed built into the shelves, and the hum was at its loudest here. Ji-min took a step forward, and a high female voice suddenly echoed through the sanctum.

  “Honoured spirit, we can’t understand you,” I called out. The voice continued to speak, with an inflection that seemed to be a question.

  Ji-min, still in his armour, seemed stumped, so I took a step forward and placed my bow down on the ground.

  “Spirit or demon or god of the ancients, whoever you are, we come to beg your aid,” I said, bowing deeply to the being. “I am Choi Hyun, prince of the Kingdom of the Sacred Mountains. My companion is Ji-min, a warrior and scholar of the Warlord Lands. We have learned of the power held in this place, and have come to seek it, to use it to unify our people. Please, help us.”

  There was a short buzz, and then a moment of silence. “Curious,” the voice came again in the language of our common tongue. “You speak an amalgamate vocabulary drawing
on a handful of root languages. I will continue to assimilate your vocabulary and improve my interface.”

  There was another buzzing, and light flickered before us. Suddenly a woman in snow-white robes, her long, dark hair pulled back prettily, stood before us. She was not unlike the dancing lights of the Ancients we had seen in the soul city, but she seemed to examine me, and then Ji-min in his armour, aware of our presence, glowing like a star.

  “Are you with the People’s Army?” she asked him, cocking her head to the side slightly, studying his armour.

  “Uh . . . no,” he answered, confused, a concerned look on his face. “I come from the north, a place we call the Warlord Lands.”

  “As your companion mentioned,” the spirit, or goddess, said, smiling politely.

  “Are you the guardian of this place?” I asked, and she turned to me. “Who are you?”

  “You may call me Hye-rin,” she answered, bowing slightly. “I am the Project Edion Vault clinic interface and sole technician.”

  A demon of the Ancients? Or a benevolent spirit? She took in my blank stare, seemed to consider me a moment and then smiled. “I have maintained this facility for the centuries since its living caretakers perished.”

  Ji-min spoke an incantation and removed his helmet. “We’re looking for a power we believe you hold. We’re looking for the power to make a child.”

  Hye-rin smiled and bowed. “Follow me to the clinic intake, please.”

  What followed, after meeting the sanctum’s guardian spirit Hye-rin, was one of the strangest conversations of my life. The spirit led us into a small study, as bright and clean as the rest of the sanctum, lit by the Ancients’ technique of heatless fire contained in strange glass devices.

  She had us both sit in oddly designed but comfortable seats and spoke at length about the miracle we sought. I still don’t understand most of the words she spoke, of the Ancients’ arcane powers of “cell division” and “cell differentiation.” Of “induced pluripotent stem cells,” “primordial germ cells” and “creating viable eggs in vitro.”

  “I just have a few questions before we get started,” the spirit said, sitting across from us behind a thick, sturdy metal table. “What is your home address or addresses?”

  Ji-min and I exchanged dubious glances. “Uh . . . I’m from the Warlord’s palace, perhaps a week’s journey north?” he replied.

  “I’m from the Royal Village, in the land of the People of the Sacred Mountains,” I stated, and she gave me an odd look. “It’s . . . a few days northeast from here . . . in the mountains . . . as the sparrow flies.”

  She considered our answers a moment, then nodded. “I’ll put in your records that you are currently looking for a permanent home. Do either of you have knowledge of any diseases or chronic illnesses that run in your family?”

  “Uh . . . my father died recently, but it was of old age,” Ji-min said, glancing down at the table in front of him. “My mother died in childbirth, but that’s not uncommon where I’m from, unfortunately.”

  I reached over and took his hand, “My mother is alive and well, and healthy. The people of the Sacred Mountains are a hardy people. I never knew my father, as is our way.”

  Hye-rin considered this a moment, then nodded, smiling politely. “How long has it been since you decided to become parents?”

  After an hour of struggling through her questions, Hye-rin finally led Ji-min and I further into the sanctum, what she called her “labs.” The tools and artifacts within were of such an alien design and complexity that I could not even begin to guess what religious or arcane use they were for. Glass and metal reigned supreme, as well as a brittle but lasting material used by the Ancients called “plastics.” Ji-min eyed these inner sanctum rooms hungrily—as a scholar of the Warlord Lands he coveted the technology of these lost people, and here was a temple impossibly preserved. The sanctum had an infestation, though. Dozens of the pests occupied every room, and they came and went as they pleased, a great nuisance underfoot. Hye-rin could walk right through them, and they seemed uninterested in the guardian spirit.

  “What’s with the cats?” Ji-min asked as he nudged one with his foot. It gave him a disdainful glare and stalked away, tail twitching furiously.

  Hye-rin stopped and considered the little beasts. “They are descendants of those left behind after the collapse. When I realized the caretakers of this place were not returning, I sealed Project Edion’s doors. The project managers kept several cats as pets, and my life-sustaining protocol meant I could not let them die. I made their life cycles a priority in my subroutines and began synthesizing the food meant for humans to match their dietary requirements. I find their company . . . pleasant.” She smiled down at the mangy beasts who lounged around in the inner sanctum and ignored their protector. “After centuries passed without outside contact I opened the vault doors to alleviate reliance on my life sustaining systems, and to allow them to come and go as they please. This allowed them to hunt, and to mix with the feral population, benefiting the population’s genetic diversity.”

  Ji-min and I glanced at one another as she motioned for us to follow her.

  We were led into what looked to be living quarters, furniture of the odd designs of the Ancients decorating the space.

  “As you have no current permanent address, I am giving you access to the project director’s quarters during the term of gestation,” Hye-rin said, motioning us in. There was a bed, the sheets an impossibly pristine white. A small area that appeared to be for preparing meals was sectioned off, complete with a table and chairs. Further on there were other rooms, for recreation and washing, as I learned, which the Ancients primarily did in doors. They had a fondness for magically prepared hot water, something we would make use of over the months. The room was, happily, without cats.

  “As I have deemed you fit for the project, there remains a final requirement to be . . . ascertained,” she gave a polite smile.

  We looked at her, waiting for the spirit to elaborate.

  She cleared her throat, “The lab systems require a series of genetic materials to produce viable primordial germ cells, which will go through dozens of iterations before we can construct the required gametes. We will require skin, hair, saliva, blood and sexual emissions.”

  A wry smile played over Ji-min’s face. I raised an eyebrow, “I have little idea what she means.”

  Hye-rin and Ji-min shared a look, and she motioned at a small compartment in the wall. It opened and there were a number of glass and plastic instruments and containers. The spirit asked us to place the “materials” into the compartment “as they are acquired” and she would do the rest.

  With a final smile, she vanished.

  Ji-min walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me waist, pulling me in. “We made it.”

  I pulled away. “My love, I understand what we came here to do, but I have no idea what’s going on . . . what more does that spirit need of us?”

  He gazed into my eyes and thought for a moment. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Never was the difference in our cultures more apparent than in that moment. My people had adapted to the world as we came into it, turning to the gods of the mountains or the goddess of the water for prayer and guidance when needed. We moved through the world freely, but there was so much about the world around us we did not understand. Ji-min’s people clung to artifacts of the past, hiding in their underground palaces, coming out only to wage war and raid the sites of the Ancients for their forgotten treasures. However, the sliver of the Ancients’ wisdom they possessed, passed down through the ages, was their greatest strength. Their complex understanding of the world.

  Ji-min pulled me in for a tender kiss. His hands began to work my armour off, letting it clank to the floor. He said this is the power that we sought. The spirit would take our essence and turn it into those things that a man and a woman could bring together through lovemaking to create a child. She could make a child that was half of my people and half of his.
Half of Ji-min and half of myself.

  What she needed was, among a collection of small sacrifices of ourselves—which would not be painful or lasting, he said—a sample of our fluids, produced by coming together intimately.

  I smiled, “That I understand.”

  The broader, muscled man pushed me backwards and I tumbled onto the bed. He climbed on top of me and began at my neck, kissing his way down, nudging my robe apart, tasting my chest. I groaned and leaned backwards into the material of the bed. The cushioned softness of this material, coupled with the roughness of his mouth, made my back arch.

  “Keep going, my warrior,” I breathed.

  He had my robe open and kissed down my front, running his tongue through the thin line of hair just below my belly button. He followed it to the wiry tuft of hair just above my length, which awaited him eagerly. I gasped at every inch of his journey.

  I leaned over slightly to unclasp his tunic, but he admonished me, “My prince,” he tsked. “We are collecting medical samples. We must be slow and methodical, and make sure your emissions are pristine and ready to process. You can collect mine afterwards, but right now we must focus on yours.”

  “I think my ‘samples’ will include some of your spit,” I purred as he took my length into his mouth. As his lips began to slide up and down, I began to thrust without thinking. We had been too exhausted the previous night to join, so I had some energy saved up.

  After spending a few moments deep in his throat, my body convulsing beneath him—he had picked up the skill required quickly, and with enthusiasm—he lifted my legs and ran his tongue beneath my stones, working down the crack until he found the tender entrance to my fundament, my backside. The warrior had me almost singing. He pulled his tongue away for a second, “You taste as if you’ve been on the road for days on end,” he growled, smirking. “You need a wash, my filthy prince.”