by Sean Davies
Alice heard her wrist-mounted HCD chiming and flipped open her gauntlet. “Right on cue.” She skimmed the usual Corriztis babble to find the information she actually cared about. “They’re on the restaurant carriage, fourth car from the front.”
“Ma’am? There’s something weird going on with the passengers,” Mikey-D said, peering through the scope of his rifle.
“What is it?” Alice asked quickly, hoping that Darkheart and Corriztis hadn’t jumped the gun and killed everyone before they’d arrived.
“They’re all standing totally still and holding sharp objects to their own throats, ma’am,” the sniper replied, checking through each one of the train’s windows.
“It’s Daedrian’s doing,” Alice said, wondering what the limits of the psychic’s powers were.
The Lord Imperator moved over to the intercom and instructed the pilot to bring them in closer, before grabbing one of the drop-cable handles hanging above the mounted rifles.
“That’s really creepy,” Brooke commented, looking at the passengers for herself. “Oh, there’s one who’s moving—an old lady in a green dress, centre of the carriage, right by the window.” She moved aside for Alice to look through the scope.
A wrinkled, white-haired woman was sitting at a table, calmly sipping a cup of tea whilst flicking through a newspaper.
“That’s Darkheart,” Alice confirmed, “which means Corriztis won’t be far. Brooke, keep me in your sights. Trooper Deal, back her up, but also keep an eye on the other train cars. They’ll definitely have more than one trick hidden up their foul sleeves.”
“Yes, ma’am, you can count on me,” Mikey-D said with a salute.
Chloe turned to Alice and looked at her imploringly, as the scout airship hovered over the gap between the restaurant carriage and its neighbouring car. “You’re gonna wish you’d taken me. I think—”
Alice leapt from the side of the craft before Chloe could began debating her orders, down through the plume of rich light-grey smoke endlessly spilling from the Gallant’s wide chimney, and used the unfurling drop-cable to carefully lower herself onto the small inter-carriage gangway.
Before Alice could open the restaurant carriage’s antique door, a light tapping noise sounded from behind her. She quickly turned on the spot, fearing an ambush, and found herself face-to-face with a disobedient Book Wielder.
“Like I was saying—I think I should come along too.” Chloe tried to keep a straight face as she pulled her pink and black book (which had been plastered in cartoon cat stickers) and a regular black pistol out of her greatcoat. “Two Book Wielders are better than one, after all. Besides, I still have that new move of mine to try out… I’ve been practising it loads and it’s starting to use less of my stamina, it’s a definite game changer.”
“O’Kelly,” Alice groaned, before letting out a defeated sigh as the airship rapidly moved away, keeping to its tight schedule.
“Can we hurry up and get inside?” Chloe asked impatiently. “All this fucking wind and smoke is messing my hair up something rotten.”
“Fine, but we’re going to have a lengthy discussion about this when we get back to Outpost Felix,” Alice scolded. “Follow my lead, and stay out of trouble until the time’s right.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chloe said cheerfully. “You know you like me really, even if your tone says otherwise.”
“That’s why I wanted you to stay on the airship,” the Lord Imperator replied flatly.
“But I couldn’t just let you wander onto this train-sized trap on your own,” Chloe said in earnest, “especially knowing that I’ve got the skills to help.”
“Thank you,” Alice said kindly, opening the carriage’s door, “but we’re still having that talk.”
Chloe grinned and followed the Lord Imperator after she’d carefully moved her armoured body through the door.
The fancy restaurant section was filled with antique mahogany dining tables and chairs rimmed with real gold, and a long fully-stocked bar occupied the centre of the carriage, which had an adjoining open kitchen so that the diners could watch their lavish meals being prepared. Every one of the passengers—men, women, children, Supernaturals, and Alts alike—seemed completely frozen, and had some form of sharp implement pressed against their throats, all except for the old lady they’d seen from the airship.
“This is one time I’m jealous of your attire, O’Kelly,” Alice admitted as she awkwardly walked further into the train, taking extra care not to bash into the paralyzed people either side of her.
“Power armour might not have been the best choice. But then again, your defensive barriers ain’t that good until you get pushed into a corner—no offense, Ali,” Chloe said as she peered into the passengers’ blank eyes, looking for anyone with signs of Gloom exposure.
“None taken,” the Lord Imperator replied, knowing that the redhead was completely on point.
“Maybe if you practised more—” Chloe began.
“Not now, O’Kelly,” Alice cut her off, noticing that one of the barmen was sweating and shaking all over.
“Um… Alice?” Chloe said nervously.
“What is it, O’Kelly?” the Lord Imperator asked distractedly, her eyes on the elderly woman who was still sipping tea at her table by the window, directly opposite the unwell barman.
“I’m stuck,” Chloe replied ashamedly. “The fuckers have got me.”
Alice looked around and saw that the ginger Book Wielder was rooted to the cabin’s red carpet, straining violently to make her legs move and to keep herself from raising her own pistol to her temple.
“I can feel the strands of psychic power…” Chloe wheezed, her mouth beginning to stiffen, “but I don’t know how to sever them…”
“Sit tight. I’ll find a way to dispel it,” Alice reassured her.
The Lord Imperator could also feel the invisible threads of power holding her fellow Book Wielder and the Gallant’s passengers in place, all of which originated from the old lady’s head and shot directly into the minds of her victims. Alice was certain that if she focused hard enough then she could negate the strange psychic power the same way she could with magic. She was also certain, however, that Darkheart and Corriztis’ plan depended on her being helpless to stop it, so she reluctantly turned away from Chloe and headed towards the old lady in the green dress; she needed to lull the terrorists into a false sense of security in order to enact her own scheme.
“‘Sit tight’? That’s a good one, dearie,” the elderly woman said as Alice approached, giving her a slow round of applause. “It’s almost as funny as the idea of you dispelling my abilities. You’ll find that your magic has no effect on my telepathic and telekinetic abilities.”
“I had noticed,” Alice lied. “You seem quite a bit older than the last time we spoke—in the shipping yard, wasn’t it?”
The woman seemed pleased. “So you saw through me… very clever. Please, take a seat.”
Daedrian Darkheart used her telekinesis to pull the chair opposite her outwards, and then manipulated its atoms and molecules so that it grew larger and warped from wood into metal, to allow for the weight of the Lord Imperator’s power armour.
Alice stifled a gasp, and sat down carefully.
“Just a little something I’ve picked up recently,” Darkheart said, responding to the slight change of facial expression the Lord Imperator hadn’t managed to suppress in time. “I’ve been able to do it to myself for quite some time—helpful when you’re eluding tyrannical Conclave and Justiciars lackeys—but now it looks like I can affect more or less anything.”
“That’s nice to know,” Alice said, keeping her expression frozen in a mask of neutrality. “So, have you decided to turn yourself in?”
Darkheart laughed. “Good one. Everyone told me you didn’t have a sense of humour.”
“You need better spies,” Alice said with a sly smile.
Daedrian narrowed her eyes. “It’s hard to train people when you’re constantly killing
them. I mean, you blew up the last poor sod. So much for justice,” she snapped.
Alice was shocked. “I didn’t blow him up. You…” Then the penny dropped. “You don’t know what happens to your people, do you?”
“Yes, I do. You kill them for opposing your pal Winston’s unelected reign, or freeze them solid like you did in Barraham, or wipe them off the face of the map like you did in Abilton!” the old lady answered viciously.
The Lord Imperator didn’t intend it, but she found herself laughing hysterically at Daedrian’s naivety.
“The fact that you think such ruthless behaviour is acceptable only proves me and my followers right,” Darkheart hissed, incensed by her reaction, and forced Alice’s body to become as immobile as everyone else’s.
“How old are you, truly?” Alice asked, secretly studying every fragment of psychic energy being used against her.
Daedrian morphed her appearance into that of an auburn-haired girl in her early teens, and smiled menacingly at Alice. “You’ve been defeated by a teenager. How does that feel, Lord Imperator?”
“Pretty embarrassing,” Alice began with a smirk. “Almost as embarrassing as being manipulated and led astray by a deceitful corruption Demon… but then, you are just a kid,” she added, trying to get a rise out of the girl.
“You are so full of shit,” Daedrian snarled, accidentally releasing more psychic energy for Alice to inspect. “If you think I’m dumb enough to fall for that—”
“Nathan Philips was turned into a living bomb after drinking from a tainted glass; Abilton was hit by a chemical bomb that mutated all of the Alts in town; Barraham was struck with a rapidly spreading virus that originated from your followers, and turned everyone into savage lunatics. Now, who do we both know who has a knack for chemistry?”
“Bullshit,” Darkheart cursed nervously.
“Can’t you stop her from speaking?” the barman asked in a fragile voice.
“No. She’s particularly difficult to pin down, let alone silence,” Darkheart replied. “Although… what do we have here?”
Alice’s arm was pulled upwards involuntarily, and her gauntlet was rapidly disassembled until only her bare skin was on display. Darkheart gently slid the turquoise ring of mental obfuscation off Alice’s finger and crushed it into a little ball with her mind.
“There, that’s better,” Daedrian said with a smile, before turning her attention back to Corriztis’ barman host. “Now, I think you’ve got some explaining to do—Demon.”
✽ ✽ ✽
A great distance from the Gallant, Brooke and the sniper Michael Deal watched on through their rifles’ scopes and listened to the events unfolding with their earpieces.
“We should take the shot.” Mikey-D said eagerly.
“No way,” Brooke replied bluntly. “I’m not shooting a teenager, or some poor bloke who became a Demon-sleeve. Besides, Alice hasn’t given any signal yet.”
“You heard the convo—she’s stuck in place like Chloe!” Michael argued. “We should at least take out Corriztis’ host while we’ve got the shot.”
“She’s not stuck, she keeps moving when they’re not looking,” Brooke said irritatedly. “We’re not doing anything until we get a signal. Now, can you keep it down? I’m trying to listen in—Darkheart is pissed at Corriztis… wait, look at Alice!”
Mikey-D zoomed in on the Lord Imperator and saw her slowly raise a hand to the side of her hair that was facing the window, pushing it behind one of her ears before pointing ever so slightly in Daedrian’s direction.
“That’s the hold fire command,” Brooke said, feeling vindicated. “She doesn’t want us to fire on the girl.” She had to admit she was relieved; even before taking in the kids, Brooke knew she wouldn’t have had it in her to shoot one, even if they were one of Mydia’s most wanted.
“Fine, you were right,” Mikey-D conceded bitterly. “But I’m keeping my sights on the barman.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Alice sat patiently as she listened to the two terrorists argue, and all the while she studied every facet of the girl’s unique power, thinking up ways to modify her own rusty Book Wielder abilities to counter them.
“They were only pawns, my dear,” the barman host of Corriztis wheezed. “They were nothing compared to what’s at stake. I knew you wouldn’t understand, so I didn’t tell you.”
“It goes against everything we stand for!” Darkheart yelled.
Corriztis shook his trembling head. “My dear Daedrian, this goes far beyond your silly little ideals. The whole world will be in grave danger, unless I can finish my work.”
“You’re no different from Reynolds, or her!” Darkheart shouted, pointing at Alice. “You even killed the Manager. Edward Anderson was a dick, but he was still our ally!”
“Actually, that one was on Winston—or at least, Omniosis inside of Winston. We’re working on fixing that,” Alice admitted, hoping that being honest would further widen the gap between her two adversaries.
“I thought you’d stopped her from speaking?” Corriztis moaned.
“So did I…” Daedrian paused for a moment, puzzled, before getting angry again. “Who cares, I am so done with you and all of this crap! You ruined my organisation, you twisted—”
“Stop,” the barman spoke softly, causing the girl to fall silent in an instant. “Put your hands on your head, whistle for four seconds, tell Alice your favourite type of animal, and then make sure that she’s properly subdued.”
Daedrian unwilling followed each one of the Demon’s commands to the letter, even telling Alice that she likes ponies.
Alice allowed for herself to be restrained, but blocked any attempts to silence her.
“Master, I cannot stop her from speaking,” Daedrian said robotically. “Hey! What have you done to me, Corriztis?!”
The barman shrugged. “In addition to enhancing your potent powers so that we can subjugate the ancient power at the core for ourselves, just a little loyalty virus. Nothing as barbarically inefficient as the psychic suggestion that has Winston’s mind in pieces… what a waste of a good vessel.”
“Now you see the truth,” Alice said, shooting the Demon a filthy look. “The Justiciars and Conclave aren’t evil—he is.”
“Get the fuck off your high horse,” Daedrian spat furiously. “I lost my whole family because of yours and Winston’s actions!”
Alice forced herself not to flinch.
“Be quiet, girl,” Corriztis ordered shakily. “Hold her still while I move in, and then we’ll be on our way to my facility to finalise the transfer.”
“What’s wrong? You don’t sound all that well, Corriztis,” Alice observed smugly.
“As my intellect grows, my ability to take multiple hosts lessens,” the Demon explained, unconcerned. “Good thing I’ll only need one more. Then your comrade Theodore will be free at last—well, as free as a servant can be.”
“Why me?” the Lord Imperator asked as she sat perfectly still, watching as the barman coughed out a tide of black liquid which quickly formed into the rough outline of a man.
A goofy white mask materialised from the Demon’s watery mass, and answered Alice in a gargled voice. “Because you’re half Archmage, of course. Thanks to the Omni ruining Winston, you are the only thing left on the planet that even comes close to matching my original form and intellectual capacity. Your Vampire Bloodmage friend Theodore has taken me far, but he is only a watered-down splinter of what a true Archmage embodies, as is every other Supernatural out there. Only with your wonderful brain can I finish my work.”
“Thanks for clearing that up,” Alice said, smiling coldly as she scratched her nose.
Before the Demon could react, two Sanctium shells collided with his mask, dousing his liquid form in blazing blue and white fire.
Alice quickly cancelled Daedrian’s powers, causing a wave of panic and confusion to wash over the Gallant’s passengers, and Chloe pushed past them to get to the Lord Imperator.
“Dae
drian Darkheart, you are under arrest for crimes against Mydia and its populace,” Alice said, keeping the girl’s powers contained.
“How…?!” Daedrian sputtered, before grabbing her tea and throwing it in Alice’s face.
The Lord Imperator flinched; the tea wasn’t boiling but it was still hot enough to sting her eyes, and by the time she’d powered through the pain, Daedrian had launched herself forwards and was running up the train.
“Come back!” Alice yelled, trying to barge through the panicking commuters to catch up.
“Shit, it’s like a sea of people,” Chloe cursed from Alice’s side, before discharging her pistol at the historical train’s ceiling. “Forgive me, old girl,” the redhead apologised to the train, as the crowd of people cowered and jumped for cover.
Alice used the opportunity as intended, and gained ground on the teenage terrorist quickly, but she soon had to deflect tables, chairs, broken glass, cutlery, and anything else the runaway psychic launched backwards with her telekinesis.
Daedrian stopped by the restaurant section’s lavatories and placed a hand on one of the golden door handles.
Alice smiled, thinking she had finally cornered the psychic, until she remembered the girl could use her powers to travel great distances.
“Daedrian, wherever you go I’ll track you down!” Alice yelled. “Just stop—it’s over!”
Daedrian Darkheart shook her head and scowled. “I’m so done with you, and Winston, and Demon dickheads, and this stupid planet. Don’t worry—you’ll never see me again!” she screamed in frustrated, disillusioned angst, before opening the door.
“Wait!” Alice cried, sprinting to the psychic’s position, but stopped in awe when she reached the bathroom.
Daedrian had cut a doorway into another world (or perhaps another dimension), and Alice found herself staring at a completely foreign land littered with countless skyscrapers, all covered with bright neon signs and holographic adverts as they reached into a cloudy cobalt-coloured atmosphere dotted with spaceships, drones, and hovercars.