by Davies, Sean
“Of course, Lord Inquisitor,” Jonathan said slyly. He pressed on the stone and spoke to it. “Master Silvario, we are ready for you.”
“On my way now,” Silvario’s voice spoke back.
The communication stones were old and very rare, a relic from the age before the Shadow Wars. Alice wished there were more available as it seemed a much more efficient method of communicating than relying on radio and phone transmissions.
A human sized blue and white oval shape appeared not far from Jonathan, and the portal warped and distorted reality around its seams in a way that was both mesmerising and frightful. Silvario stepped through wearing an extravagant gold and silver coloured robe, and the portal closed behind him. He was still out of breath from creating the portal that had brought them all to the dockyard in the first place.
Even though Industria City was still technically under their control, with rebel forces successfully holding back the Archmage’s forces well outside of the city’s boundaries, Silvario didn’t want to take the risk of being out of the Catacombs for too long. Alice could understand the old Mage’s trepidation, because although the puppet-like Gloom Freaks were clearly not human, they were hard to detect whilst wearing an obscuring outfit. She had also been told that they were even more deadly in the real world than they were in their native environment of the Gloom.
“Are you okay master?” Jonathan said, going to the aide of Silvario.
“Yes, yes,” Silvario said in a frail yet defiant tone, but he still accepted Jonathan’s assistance in walking him to the containers. “Let us animate these Autons quickly and return to safety.”
“Tut, tut, tut.” A dock worker wearing baggy clothing, a bright orange hard hat, and a hi-vis jacket came out of the shadows and shook his finger at them disapprovingly. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Move along,” Alice said sternly, “we’re on Inquisition business.”
“Inquisition business, you say?” the dock worker said in an amused voice. “You hear that, gang?”
Shrill and horrid laughter echoed through the docks, as more dockworkers crept out of the shadows or peeked out over the edges of stacked up containers. They held hammers, crowbars, bolt cutters and other tools brandished menacingly.
A shiver crept down Alice’s spine. “Freaks...”
Silvario took a deep breath and held his hands out towards the Auton containers. “Deal with them quickly,” he ordered as he began sending the wisps of magic flowing into the machines.
Alice sent a duel barrage of fiery blue plasma bolts from her wrist lasers into the face of the first Alt, melting the puppet’s orange helmet and igniting its fabric, and then the others charged. She quickly drew her more powerful submachine gun from its holster and fired wildly into their ranks.
The two Inquisitors fired a prolonged lance of plasma energy from their rifles across the charging Alternatives. Many were cut in half and set ablaze in blue fire, but after Alice’s initials shots they were ready, and so those not caught in the sweeping beams dodged expertly out of the way with graceful acts of acrobatic mastery. With their guns overheating, the Inquisitors’ advanced black rifles switched to regular ammunition, and the Alternatives took the opportunity to advance quicker.
Alternatives began leaping from the tops of the containers. One dropped directly onto the back of the male Inquisitor and scratched at his face with its elongated pointed fingers, so Alice quickly rushed to help and swung her hammer at the foul creature. The spell-forged hammer smashed into the Alt’s side, and in a flash of white light it was torn asunder and sent flying. Bits of grey stuffing floated in the air like snowflakes as Alice helped him up and swung her hammer at another assailant.
Silvario kept his attention focused on the Autons within the containers, sending the greenish blue wisps of magic into their complex circuitry. He had used a great deal of power opening the portals, and he was ashamed at how much the ancient magic was draining him. His old master from the Mage’s tower of Desem had taught him well in the ancient ways of animation and translocation magic, but Silvario’s greatest and strongest talents had always been that of his cunning and diplomatic manner.
Alternatives kept trying to close in on Silvario before he could bring the Autons to life, but Jonathan sent them flying with waves of force magic, impacting them into the sides of containers with so much force that they exploded in a puff of padding and material.
The two Inquisitors were managing to hold out against the tide of assailants with the help of Alice and her spell-forged hammer, as an array of wrenches, crowbars and hammers flew at them from random directions. Even thrown with supernatural force the missiles could only dent their power armour, but one caught the female Inquisitor on the side of her face and knocked her to the ground. The male Inquisitor, with blood still streaming down his face, unleashed another lance of plasma energy from his rifle until it overheated once again. With another swath of bright blue plasma fire the Alt’s numbers were thinning drastically, but the group worried how many more were on the way.
“I’m done,” Silvario wheezed.
“Alice, quick!” Jonathan yelled, throwing more waves of clear force magic into the disguised Alts.
Alice ran over to the containers and yelled, “Autons, help us!”
The armoured robots clambered and leapt out of the rectangular containers, and they immediately clashed with their foes from the Gloom. They shot deadly hails of plasma fire from both rifles and wrist mounted lasers, and raked with their razor sharp metal talons and energetically charged swords, tearing the puppets to pieces.
In turn, the reality-empowered Alternatives retaliated in full force. They kicked, punched, bludgeoned, scratched and smashed away at their mechanical foes, until they were nothing more than piles of scrap metal twitching on the ground, squirting out oil and other fluids from their wiring.
Alice, momentarily distracted by the puppet versus machine carnage, was jumped by a group of four Alternatives from above. They body-slammed her into the ground, her submachine gun and hammer falling from her hands, and she knocked her head hard against the sharp shingled floor as the Freaks pressed her limbs down with unnatural force. She struggled in an attempt to get her wrists into a decent firing angle, but even with her suit’s strength-assisting servos it was hopeless. The two frightful creatures holding her arms chomped and clattered their big white teeth together as they closed in on her exposed face, and her terrified expression was reflected in their soulless round black eyes.
“Get the fuck off her!” Jonathan yelled angrily.
Alice wriggled and wriggled futilely. She tried pressing herself further into the ground, and she closed her eyes as the teeth grew ever closer to her face.
Suddenly, the Alts hissed and screamed. The noise was awful and hurt Alice’s ears, and she could hear the sound of fizzing too. At once, the weight on her limbs was almost gone. She opened her eyes to see the foul unholy creatures dissolving over her, writhing and squirming as they melted away like ice being doused in boiling water. Standing over her was a very angry looking Jonathan. He was holding a child’s large toy water pistol, and she’d never seen him so cross. Being dazed, it took her a while to realise that he was hosing them down with bleach; it was like acid to the filthy corrupt things from the Gloom.
Jonathan took Alice by the hand and attempted to lift her up, but being a Mage didn’t do anything to boost his physique, and her streamlined power armour weighed a great deal.
Alice dozily picked herself up off the ground and gave a thankful smile to Jonathan. She checked the back of her head and found that she was bleeding underneath her hair. She felt quite drowsy.
“Are you alright?” Jonathan asked with concern.
Her head was pounding, her thoughts took too long to form, and her vision was blurry. “Yeah thanks, I’m fine.”
Around them, the skirmish had been won. The Autons were ruthlessly executing the last of the Alternatives, and the male Inquisitor was helping the female one
back onto her feet. Silvario was slumped on the ground and panting like dog. He reached into his robe and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with strange coloured liquid, swigging it all down, and within moments he was back on his feet composing himself.
“Autons,” Alice slurred. “Defend Industria City and its people, and aide the efforts of the Inquisition and its allies!”
The Autons finished their bloody work, saluted, and headed towards the city.
“That should help keep Winston out,” Jonathan said.
“Hopefully,” Alice said, trying to stay balanced. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Definitely. We’ve lingered for too long,” Silvario said. He closed his eyes and focused hard.
Another blue and white interstice opened up before them, slightly larger than the one Silvario had entered from, and the group walked or limped through.
They were in one of the Catacomb’s generic plain grey stone tunnels, with everlasting magefire torches illuminating the place and giving everything a calming bluish tint. By the portal, two Trinity guards were stood to attention in silvery grey armour that was engraved with light blue runes. They wore helmets with their visors down, and from the top spewed long plumes coloured purple, yellow and red. They were armed with assault rifles and had sheathed swords on their hips.
A blonde haired Vampire Bloodmage was waiting for them by the guards. He looked young as most Supernaturals usually did, but he moved slowly and purposefully like an old man, and his red eyes clearly held a great depth of knowledge. He wore smart clothing from a few eras past, and had the mannerisms of a doctor or some sort of practitioner.
The Vampire approached Silvario but the Mage dismissed him with a wave of his hand, so he went to Alice next. He pressed his hand to her brow and a warm surge of magic coursed through her head. He quickly moved on the other Inquisitors who reluctantly let him heal them.
After they were all fixed up, Silvario lead them down the tunnel and through one the Catacomb’s many permanent pulsing blue portals, into a living area combined with a banquet hall. Long wooden tables were set out row after row, covered in expensive old cutlery and magefire candelabras. There were also leather sofas arranged around the sides of the room in bookshelf lined recesses, and even a few televisions and portable radios. Members of the Inquisition and the Trinity of Old mingled freely. Some were very uncomfortable in each other’s presence, but others were a bit too comfortable with each other for Alice’s liking. She’d heard plenty of stories about the ‘mingling’ between the two factions. It seemed strange considering that they should be natural enemies, but sharing a common threat had brought them together. She wouldn’t be dropping her guard around the Supernaturals any time soon, though.
“I’m heading back to Central Isle,” Alice said. “I need to check on the radio reports.”
Silvario gave her a pleading look with his old purple eyes. “We have a favour to ask of you, but please have a little rest first. Jonathan will bring you to us when you are ready.”
He walked off before Alice could even argue. She scowled, for she had business to attend to back on Central Isle. Following the death of General Wallace, General Azalea had been communicating less and less, and over the past fortnight she had not received one single report from Tropica. Alice needed to know what was going on.
“Come on, let’s get you out of that armour,” Jonathan said helpfully. “You’ve got dried blood all over the back of your head.”
Alice grumbled but allowed herself be led to one of the adjoining rooms. There were corridors filled with little rooms intended for Supernatural habitation. Some were permanently occupied and others were just for temporary stays, and standing at one end they seemed to go on forever. She had stayed in one of these rooms before on an extended mission and she had to admit that they were quite cosy for an underground dwelling.
The room inside had floral light blue tapestries hanging over the stone walls, a comfy looking green double bed, and an assortment of brown and beige rugs on the floor. The furnishings were very old fashioned but quaint, and there was a wooden door that led to a bathroom.
Alice placed her hammer on the bed alongside her submachine gun and began fiddling with the armour’s auto-catches. She felt a lot better since the Bloodmage had healed her head, but she was still completely exhausted. She hadn’t been sleeping well and her missions assisting the resistance movement were ever so taxing, but it still beat sitting around doing nothing. She hated the feeling of being powerless.
“Here, let me help,” Jonathan said, standing behind her.
“What do they want me to do?” Alice asked, as his hands fumbled for the catches that would automatically release sections of her power armour.
“They need you to cross over into the Gloom,” he said as the little catches by her shoulder plates whirred. He detached them and put them delicately on the floor before moving onto her torso armour.
“The Gloom?” she asked, feeling confused.
“Our potions are probably running low.” He pressed on the catches hidden underneath her spine panels they all spun, causing the armour to baulk outwards before separating in half.
Alice placed the front half down by the shoulder plates and Jonathan put the back section next to it. After that, it wasn’t difficult to get her arms and legs free. She sat down on the bed and sighed tiredly.
Jonathan stood in front of her, placing his hands delicately upon her bare shoulders and caressing them gently. She reached up and placed her hands on top of his; whatever he was doing was so relaxing. Suddenly, she realised with a jolt that she was only in a strapless white bra and underpants. Alice looked up and saw the desire in Jonathan’s handsome purple eyes. She flinched away, blushing heavily.
“A little privacy please?!” she shouted.
He blushed as deeply as Alice was, and moved away. Cleary embarrassed, he apologised thoroughly and left the room.
Alone, Alice sighed again. She couldn’t believe how easily she’d forgotten herself. It was like she had been caught up in a current and drifted naturally along without thinking.
The bathroom was antiquated but had all the regular comforts of a modern one. The bathtub was big and copper coloured, and being used to showers she felt like baths were a nice treat, so she turned the taps on full pelt and let it fill up with very hot water. Dealing with the Freaks always made her feel dirty, not to mention what had almost just happened with Jonathan.
Alice sank in the pleasant bath and exhaled happily before lowering her face beneath the hot water. She scrubbed the blood off the back of her head and emerged again, resting her head against the tub.
As she washed, she thought about Jonathan. How could she be so careless as to let a Supernatural of all people get so close? Alice prided herself on being a virgin – her duty and her faith had always come first – but then her Twin Goddesses had turned out to be twin Archmages who’d resisted Omniosis back in the times before time. She often had to remind herself that her religion wasn’t entirely correct. Her upbringing had been so devout and pious, and it seemed like madness to question or doubt it, but the facts were the facts. She wondered how many other things she could be mistaken about.
Her thoughts wandered back to Jonathan. The way he looked at her, the look of longing and passionate desire clear on his handsome face… how could he look at her like that? Alice knew she was far from ugly, but she wasn’t anything special either. She was definitely no Cherriesa; that was for sure. She looked down at her naked body and cupped her breasts after she’d washed them. They were a good handful in size, and she thought that her dark brown nipples were quite pretty. Maybe that was what he liked about her? But then there were plenty of girls with bigger busts out there. Alice kept in very good shape, a drilled in habit of a militaristic upbringing, so her stomach, legs and backside were well toned. Was that what he liked?
Alice slammed her fists into the water, sending splashes out of the sides of the bath and onto the bare stone floor. She was s
o angry at herself. Why was she so obsessed with this line of thought? It seemed odd now, but she had never really thought of herself as a woman before, except for the butterflies she used to get in her tummy when she’d talk to the old Autocrat Edgar Aurelius II, Goddesses bless and guide his soul. And now she was picking apart her looks because some half sophisticated, half cheeky Mage wanted to bed her? Alice shook her head. No more. She wouldn’t let herself think a second longer about the matter.
Scrubbing herself harshly, she forced her mind onto what the Trinity wanted. A trip to the Gloom spelled great danger for her, what with Winston’s crafty alliance with the evil puppet-things. Why the hell couldn’t they send one of the other Book Wielders? Flicking through her book every now and then and being able to negate the powers of others surely couldn’t put her ahead of the ones that had been doing it for years, decades, and maybe even centuries. She would have to try and get a hold of Azalea afterwards. As much as she cringed at the fact, the Inquisition needed the alliance with the Trinity if they ever hoped to defeat Omniosis, though she hated to admit it.
Satisfied with her cleanliness, she treated herself to a moment’s rest in the hot steaming water. Alice closed her eyes, and there he was again. She was angry with herself, but at the same time so relaxed that she couldn’t even be bothered to fight it. In her mind she was back on the bed, with Jonathan looking so intently down into her white eyes. She imagined his hands moving down from her shoulders and undoing her unflattering bra. Alice’s chest rose and fell as her breathing increased, and the surface of the water bobbed in gentle waves as she guessed what his hands would feel like on her skin, or squeezing her breasts, or playing with her nipples. Without registering it, she was already pulling on them herself. Her legs rubbed together as she pictured their long and passionate kiss.
With a jolt, she realised that her fingers had run through her wet black pubic hair and down into her pussy. It felt so good and she wanted to so badly, but she couldn’t, she wouldn’t. Alice sat up and splashed the water against her face, running her fingers through her soaking brown hair. What had gotten a hold of her?