by Sean Davies
Blight shook his head. “Not a chance. I know half of wot ya got in there is priceless, and I wants it all! So fork over da keys and yous can be on ya merry way.”
Genevieve narrowed her eyes, and her ears picked up a faint shuffling sound from behind. “Watch out!” she shouted, whipping around and slashing at some barely visible puppet strings reaching out for her throat. A large group of punk Alts and humans under the effects of Gloom exposure had crept up on their position, and some were manipulating string and wires from their fingertips.
Stitches was also quick to react, and mirroring Genevieve’s speed the Alternative drew his new concealed blade and severed the strange threads.
Unfortunately, Constance didn’t move in time, and strands of thick wire wrapped around her waist and pulled her backwards, right into the arms of a blue fabric Alternative who immediately placed a flick-knife against her bare neck.
The towering Freak, Lil’Flake, vomited two globules of acid onto Olishia and Joran’s rifles, rendering them unusable in seconds.
“Now den,” Blight began, as more of his gang joined him from the alleyway, “I fink we were about ta resolve dis diplomatically…”
“You’re not getting inside my tower,” Quoronastra growled.
The Tropican troopers discarded their rifles and pressed opened the thigh compartments of their power armour, quickly reequipping themselves with plasma pistols and combat knives.
While Connie was paralysed by fear, Genevieve reached under the hem of her skirt to where she had holstered her throwing knives, and subtly pulled each one free. She passed Stitches half of them, while giving him an intent look.
“Den I guess I’ll be takin’ da keys off ya corpse,” Blight said to his draconic rival.
In a flash, Genevieve threw her Katana in the air above Constance, and then expertly launched her throwing knives at the Alts and humans closest to where Connie was being held hostage. Stitches was quick to imitate, and half a dozen people and puppets dropped to the floor in the opening seconds of combat.
Genie was already in the thick of her follow-up attack when Constance flinched in reaction to the blade now falling towards her, and the incredibly fast Vampire Nightclaw somersaulted into the confused Bastardly Blighters, caught her Katana, and slashed off the blue Alt’s arm holding the switchblade.
Constance let out a surprised gasp as Genevieve’s Katana then slid through the head of her captor, the blade glowing brightly as the Spell-forged steel burnt away at the Alt’s corrupted fabric only inches away from her own head. She began to panic, breathing in quick shaking gulps of air as she looked at the Alt’s body on the floor and then up at the ongoing battle; however, Genie gave her face a gentle slap, and the pain seemed to wake her fighting instincts. The Book Wielder snarled and covered her hands in a blaze of yellow fire and lightning, before whipping lashes of electrified magma through her foes while Stitches and Genevieve finished the stragglers.
Quoronastra threw his purple flames at the gang leader and was visibly stunned when the altered human blocked them with two blasts of green witchfire from his pale hands. The Dragon quickly closed the gap between them, ducking under one of Lil’Flake’s giant fists as it swung towards his scaled head, and breathed a torrent of fire on Blight, who narrowly cartwheeled out of the way.
Joran and Olishia of the Tropican Military Forces pelted the massive sack-headed Freak and its human and Alternative backup, singeing their material and flesh. However, they were quickly forced to go on the defensive as Lil’Flake charged them, belching mouthfuls of acidic gunk as he swung wildly with his strong fists.
Quoronastra manipulated his form, and a bladed dragon tail slithered out of his robe and swept the gang leader off his feet. The Dragon thought he had won and blasted his human enemy with a torrent of violet flames, but Blight rolled out of the way and belted Quoronastra with a series of his own witchfire spells.
Meanwhile, Olishia shoulder barged the big Freak in its bulbous stomach and stabbed at its decaying flesh with her knife, while Joran opened his thigh compartment and fumbled for a grenade. Right before Lil’Flake could recover, the blue and white-haired trooper rammed his plasma grenade in the creature’s sack head and helped Olishia to escape the blast radius. The top half of the cereal-loving Freak exploded in a bright blue blast, and the surviving members of the Bastardly Blighters lost their nerve and fled.
Seeing that he had lost, Blight blinded Quoronastra with a close-quarters witchfire flare and scarpered off after his fleeing gang members; the altered human hit the dirt, however, when one of Genevieve’s throwing knives collided with the back of his head.
“Maybe you’re not as useless as you appear,” Quoronastra commented as he dusted himself off, sliding his tail back into his human form.
“You’re welcome,” Genevieve said casually, tearing off a piece of fabric from the closest corpse and thoroughly cleaning her blade.
“Interesting start to things,” Joran panting, leaning heavily on his thighs as he caught his breath.
“I wonder if the Lord Inquisitor had this much fun on her end,” Olishia joked, wiping the sweat from her brow.
“Don’t be silly,” Joran replied. “That woman doesn’t know what fun is!”
The Dragon hurled fire at the corpses, ensuring that they would never get back up again, and Stitches studied Quoronastra’s magic using the glasses he’d been gifted with, enabling him to easily assist with intense mouthfuls of green witchfire.
“Are you alright?” Genevieve asked Constance, remembering her brief mid-battle panic, and that the Book Wielder was a stranger to actual violence.
Connie nodded bravely and rubbed her throat, but she felt far from okay, especially as she studied the chaotic scene around her. The worst part was that she knew in her heart that far more dangerous battles awaited them on their journey to the Creator’s Mantle, battles that they would be lucky to escape from so easily and so unharmed.
Chapter 9
Winston's Dark Imperia
Veronica paced back and forth inside Winston’s mind, trapped within the constricted mountain pass in the dreamscape’s version of Rura, with burning sunlight only a few metres away from either side of her position. Winston's mental self-image sat on the floor with his legs crossed, his eyes closed as though he was in deep meditation. They had lost track of all time, with no word from Cherriesa, and they couldn't tell if they'd been in the same spot for hours or days. All of their efforts to manipulate their environment or manifest a work-around out of their predicament had failed miserably. Veronica had tried to create Sunshield potions, only to be presented with a bottle of weak suntan lotion labelled with a laughing white mask.
“Any luck?” Veronica asked, eyeing the nearby light fearfully.
Winston opened his eyes to find that the tunnel was still abnormally short. “Apparently not. I can't change anything,” he said dejectedly.
Veronica grunted and kicked a loose stone aggressively.
“I don't understand why he doesn't just kill us,” Winston sighed in frustration as he lay down on the road. “All Omniosis has to do is collapse this tunnel, or make it disappear—there's like, a hundred different ways to take us out.”
Veronica thought back to her encounter with the scorpion-Archmage in the woods and remembered how it had allowed her to live, and took Cherriesa’s warning about dying or suffering too much trauma within her husband's subconscious into consideration.
“I don't think he can just kill us,” Veronica replied. “Cherriesa warned me that if I get screwed over in here then my mind will shatter and merge with yours, turning my body into an empty—but still sexy—vessel, and turning you into a drooling wreck for the rest of time.”
Winston scratched his head. “So if it works the same for me, then all Omniosis has to do is keep us tucked away in this fake Mydia until Cherriesa can't maintain her spell any longer and you get dragged out, and my body becomes his again,” he said angrily. “Have I been acting like Omniosis a lot, ba
ck in the real world? The past year's still a bit cloudy.”
Veronica shook her head. “Not really… I mean, you were being a dick, but you were still helping everyone you could, Edward Anderson and the Morriganigh illusion witch aside. That’s why we couldn't tell that something was wrong—even though some of what you did was obviously self-serving, you still were acting in the interest of Mydia as a whole.”
“That doesn't sound like the Omniosis I know.” Winston furrowed his brow. “I wonder what he's playing at.”
“Maybe you had more control over him than you thought,” Veronica guessed. “Maybe he's been after the power while you were trying to guide the world to its future.”
Winston let out a long sigh and pulled himself off the ground. “I can't let him win. He's done enough damage already, and so have I. I'm not going to let him ruin everything again, and I'm not going to let him derail Mydia's destiny,” the Book Wielder avowed, his white eyes narrowing in fierce determination.
“Now you're talking!” Veronica cheered, noticing that the mountain pass was gradually expanding back to its normal length.
Winston closed his eyes, and the dreamscape buzzed with static like an old-fashioned analogue television set. The burning radiance outside disappeared as though Winston had flicked the sun’s light switch. Exhausted, he staggered to the concrete wall and opened his eyes hopefully, smirking when he saw the mental rendition of Rura was blanketed in permanent nightfall.
“Sweetie, you did it!” Veronica applauded, giving her husband a chesty hug.
Winston gave her a quick kiss and then led her to the totalled car. “I don't know how long we've got, so we’d better be quick.” He restored the car to its former glory and moved it to the middle of the road using his willpower alone, before slumping against the sports car’s sleek chassis.
“Whoa, you’d better take it easy,” the Vampire Bloodmage advised, helping him along and into the passenger's seat.
“I hate how real this place can be,” Winston chuckled weakly as his wife hopped into the driver's side.
They finally left the mountain pass, and both gasped when they saw the view. Hanging over the location of the old-world Capital, Imperia City, was a thick plate of discoloured clouds that looked illuminated against the night sky despite their dark hues. A pillar of perpetual hazy light was piercing into the centre of the curdled clouds, and Winston and Veronica both knew instantly what they were looking at. It was the Capital as it had been after Winston had successfully merged it with the Gloom, the first in four mergers that had been required to restore Mydia to its true form.
“At least we have a rough idea what to expect,” Winston said.
“And this means Omniosis is probably at the top of the World GOVT building,” Veronica said, eager to end the foul conglomeration of Demons once and for all, and to get her Winston back in the real world.
The busty Vampire looked up at the dark sky and flinched when she saw that the sun was still out, only to realise it had been dimmed somehow, painted in black, blue, and purple colours that still managed to illuminate the dreamscape slightly.
“You painted the sun?!” she exclaimed.
Winston shrugged and smiled. “Yeah, I couldn't make it set so I just shrouded it with dark colours. It didn't feel that far away, it's just like a ball of energy in the sky... not that any of this is real,” he remarked ponderously.
“We need to get out of your head before we confuse ourselves to death,” Veronica giggled.
“I never thought I'd say this, but I'm looking forward to getting back to normal,” Winston confessed. “Preferably for more than a few months this time.”
“You did say you wanted everything, remember?” Veronica reminded him.
Winston reached over and slowly ran his hand up Veronica’s smooth pale thigh. “I think I can settle with just having you,” he told her with a smirk.
“You're definitely my Winston,” Veronica began slyly, before clamping her legs shut. “But after all this, you're gonna have to work your way back into my good graces.”
“But it was Omniosis’ fault...” Winston protested playfully as he retracted his hand.
“You're still getting punished, mister,” Veronica said wickedly, licking her fangs.
“I’d better order extra ice packs this time,” Winston sighed, pretending that he wasn't excited.
The couple joked and flirted as they sped through the dreamscape, and although they kept an eye out for danger, knowing that the Archmage wouldn't have forgotten about them, none came. Their high spirits were soon dashed when they caught a glimpse of Imperia City, however.
The real life equivalent of the Capital of Rura was imposing enough, with its foreboding steel and concrete walls and tall fancy buildings, but Winston's mind had taken it to a whole other level.
The World GOVT building at the centre of the city was at least two times higher than its real-world counterpart, along with the surrounding tower blocks. It was impossible for Veronica and Winston to tell if the rest of the buildings in the dark city were taller too, as the dreamscape Capital’s walls were enormously oversized and lined with a frightening assortment of gigantic armaments. Airships hovered around the skyline, shining bright searchlights down on the streets below. The same red, black, and white banner was hanging at even intervals throughout what they could observe of the city, and as the couple drew nearer, they could see that it was a combination of the old Imperian and World banners, crossed with the twin moon and large ‘I' of the Inquisition.
As they got closer to the looming city, Winston and Veronica could make out hundreds of troopers in power armour, lining the walls and patrolling the roads leading into the Capital. Most of them were coloured black and red, but the odd few were denoted as superior ranks with a white and gold scheme.
“It looks like the Inquisition rules Imperia,” Winston said as they slowed down to a reasonable speed.
“Why would you imagine the Capital like this? Veronica asked, her face confused.
“Not a clue. It must be Omniosis’ doing,” Winston replied in a grim tone. “Makes sense if this is where he's hiding.”
“It's going to make finding your book a nightmare,” Veronica grimaced.
They travelled towards the northern gate, but were waved down by a squad of Inquisition troopers before they could get too close.
“Been a long time since I've had to do this,” Veronica said as she shuffled her dress down to expose even more cleavage.
Winston chuckled as his flirtatious wife lowered the window and batted her eyelashes.
“Identification,” a trooper barked from behind his black and red helmet.
“I'm sorry, officer,” Veronica purred seductively. “We didn't bring any ID with us, but I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement…”
The trooper peered in the sports car and studied Winston, who waved awkwardly, and then pointed his rifle into the car.
“You’re the Reynoldses!” the Inquisitor barked.
Veronica was quick to react, and as the squad of Inquisition troops began fanning out around the car, she expended most of her energy to unleash a bolt of blood magic that darted from target to target and altered their perception.
The trooper by the window lowered his rifle and waved them along. “Don’t let it happen again; not carrying your identification card is a class-B offense,” he told them gruffly.
The rest of the Inquisition squad dozily moved out of the road, and Veronica pulled away.
“We won’t—thanks, officer!” Veronica said cheerfully, before putting her foot down to get them inside the city before her spell could wear off.
“This really doesn’t feel fake,” Winston remarked, looking back at the affected troops as they passed under the thick steel gate complex. “That blood magic worked exactly like it would’ve done on actual people in the real world.”
“You and Omniosis must share a vivid imagination,” Veronica replied. “Although why either of you would imagine
this is beyond me…”
Veronica had been expecting the psychological version of the Capital to be drab and lifeless, like all the parts of Woodsholme that Winston didn’t find interesting. Instead, she was confronted with a city buzzing with people (most of whom were armed members of the Inquisition), bright electric signs promoting loyalty to the Autocrat and the importance of informing on potential dissidents, troop trucks in the streets, and airships in the violently-clouded sky above. Whilst Veronica was used to seeing Imperia as a hub for the ideals of autocracy, she had never seen it so locked down with military forces, not even in the times of the humans’ Great War; it looked like the Inquisition were there to wage war on the city itself.
As the Reynoldses drove through the dark Capital, a small group of Werewolves, Mages, and Vampires were herded out of a posh apartment block by some troopers in black armour and shoved into a strange white truck at gunpoint.
“Pull over, we need to help them,” Winston implored as he reached for his pistol.
“It’s not real,” Veronica told him in a soothing voice, for her own sake as much as Winston’s.
The Inquisitors slammed the doors shut on their captives and pressed something on the rear of the vehicle. A shearing blue light flared through the seams of the truck’s rear doors, followed by a wave of white smoke from the truck’s top section.
Winston felt ill as he watched the street-side execution, unable to intervene yet unable look away. He eventually forced himself to face the road again, and closed his eyes. “You’re right. It’s not real,” he said quietly, reminding himself yet again that he was actually trapped within his own disputed mind.
As they drove to the Hotel Noir in search of Winston's book, hoping that the arcane tome would assist in their strange predicament, a fanfare played throughout Imperia City causing everyone stopped in their tracks. Even the cars in front of them had come to a halt, leaving the Reynoldses feeling incredibly vulnerable.
Winston looked around. “What's going on now?”