21st Century Orc

by Gregory Loui

  “Yeah…” Aunt Iron Tusk’s eyes locked with Gore’s as she nodded and jerked her head to the side. She slapped Marrow on the shoulder and growled, “Marrow, go downstairs and get Fin to help you take Bones away. Once you’re there, get your siblings to watch Bones. I want at least three pairs of eyes on him at all times. Oh, and tell Debbie to come up here. I want her with Gore to discuss some things.”

  “Hai, whaea,” growled Marrow as he reached out and lifted Bones from Gore’s hands.

  Her heart stumbling, unfamiliar emotions almost forcing her to stop Marrow, Gore rose to her feet and growled, “You sure you got him?”

  “I’m a little bit stronger than I look,” laughed Marrow as he cradled Bones’s limp body in his arms, his eyes twinkling before softening. “Don’t worry, cousin. I’ll take good care of Bones.”

  “You’d better. Or else…” Gore couldn’t finish that sentence, just shaking her head and turning away while Marrow nodded and exited the room.

  Then Aunt Iron Tusk approached, walking past Gore to the small window, leaning her elbows against the pane. The old orc growled, “You did… well, Gore. Better than I could have expected.”

  “What did you expect?” asked Gore, raising her eyebrows as she leaned against the wall next to Aunt Iron Tusk. Gore blinked then looked down at her clothes. Shit… literal shit stained her white blouse. Gore rubbed her temples.

  “Something a little more violent,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk. She grinned and glanced out the side of her face. “You’ve grown quite a bit since I first met you.”

  “Ugh, don’t go senile on me, old hag,” growled Gore, shaking her head and smiling, hiding her scars. Her smile faded however as Debbie came into the room. Their eyes met, a tremor running through Gore’s heart at the sight. Debbie nodded and moved to the side. “So what did you want to talk about?”

  “Your future. We need to focus,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk, tapping the window pane in a quick tempo.

  “You seriously want to talk about this now? I think it’s a little late to get a life talk from you. I am a legal adult after all,” deadpanned Gore though more to keep herself from thinking about the future.

  “Cut te vurk,” growled Aunt Iron Tusk as she turned around. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Wait, what are you talking about?” asked Debbie, joining the orcs by the window. She bumped her shoulder against Gore’s hip.

  “We don’t have a third rider,” said Gore, sighing and running a hand through her dreadlocks. “I don’t think we’ll be able to compete unless he got off his ass last week. So unless you know someone crazy enough and skilled enough to compete…”

  “That’s not the problem for the Grand Prix,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk as she shook her head. She walked out of the room. Gore and Debbie exchanged a glance and followed. “The problem is who you will be facing. The Warchief will be there, along with all those racers who beat you during the Toretto Trials. Toa. Warriors.”

  “Thank you so much for reminding me,” said Gore, earning a glare from Aunt Iron Tusk as they exited the house onto the street. Crossing her arms, Gore squared off against Aunt Iron Tusk in the ashen courtyard. “And yes, I do realize what you’re saying.”

  “So what are you saying?” asked Debbie, looking from Gore to Aunt Iron Tusk.

  “Without a top-notch team, the chances of you surviving —much less winning— are porangir, tiny,” growled Aunt Iron Tusk as Gore growled, itching to fight. “So I’m going to have to get you one of my boys. Maybe Marrow. And you’re gonna have to train with him. We don’t have much time. The Grand Prix’s tomorrow night. If you’re going to work together, if you’re going to be i roto i te ranja enough to compete with the Warchief, you’re going to have to train from now to tomorrow morning.”

  Eyes blowing up, Debbie gasped, “Wait… that means…”

  “Yeah. I know what it means,” growled Gore, shaking her head and jabbing a finger at Aunt Iron Tusk. “You want me to give up the magic fair. You want me to give up my one chance at getting back into college and rising above this shit hole.”

  Gore pointed at the shattered buildings. Then she turned back to Aunt Iron Tusk and walked up to the old orc, thrusting her head just an inch away from the old matron’s face.

  “You want to stay here. You want me to stay being an orc. To stay as a lesser being than the rest of the society. A criminal. A thief who places all she owns on a pipe dream like the Grand Prix,” growled Gore, spit flying into Aunt Iron Tusk’s face, her eyes roaring red as the rage leapt back into her throat. Her fists curled into fists.

  “Is that what you think being an orc is? You think that orcs want to be criminals?” asked Aunt Iron Tusk, voice echoing as if through an ocean of writhing waves, her eyes turning black. Gore blinked then shook her head.

  Pulling back her fist, Gore opened her mouth to roar, “I think you are—”

  “I think you guys need to take a moment to calm down,” interjected Debbie, leaping in between the two orcs.

  As if just one dwarf could stop two orcs from ripping each other apart… but Debbie could not be defined as just one dwarf. For a brief moment, instead of a dwarf, a skyscraper stood in Gore’s path. Big, brown eyes, more effective than anti-tank rounds, shot through Gore’s rage and into her heart.

  Her temper fleeing from Debbie’s pleading face, Gore gulped and stumbled back. She shook her head, rubbing her temples. She peeked out between her fingers at Aunt Iron Tusk.

  Blight… her rage had almost consumed her again. Made her lash out at one of the few people willing to help her. Gore slapped herself in the face then straightened her back and murmured, “Sorry. I… I lost my temper.”

  “Indeed… at least you did not try to rip my head off,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk, shrugging as she wiped the spit from her face. She glared at Gore for a long time, eyes flashing red before she took a deep breath. “But… I was out of line as well. I just… wanted you to make a choice. I wanted you to focus.”

  “Do I have to choose?” murmured Gore, a question she had struggled with her entire life. Did she have to choose between the two worlds she belonged to? She looked at Debbie then at Aunt Iron Tusk. Then at the Magnum Orcus, fire curling in her fingers.

  Could she possibly give up one side of her life?

  “I believe you must,” nodded Aunt Iron Tusk. She reached out a hand. Only to stop at the younger orc’s glare. “I know what it is like to choose between two worlds more than anyone. When I stood at the edge of Valerian and the Blight, when I ferried hundreds of orcs across the border everyday, when your mother stood on once side of the wall and the rest of our family stood on the other. When I got pregnant with my first child.” Aunt Iron Tusk rubbed her stomach. “I know more than anyone what it feels like to be torn apart by two worlds. And I know that you have to choose. Someday. Somehow. Better now than later.”

  “I don’t want to,” murmured Gore though a small voice at the back of her head told her to be realistic about these things. She had to be. Otherwise the world would crush her.

  She couldn’t fight the world, make it change.

  “You will,” growled Aunt Iron Tusk. “But… I will not stop you if you wish to go. I just wanted to spare you the pain.”

  Clenching her teeth tight, Gore nodded and growled, “Thanks but no thanks. It’s not just that I want to show my project to Agnis. I have to. I’ve put so much time, so much effort into this project. I have to see this to the end. If I give up now… everything will have been for nothing.”

  “I understand. If that’s your wish, I will not stop you. Or more like, I cannot stop you.” Aunt Iron Tusk’s eyes twinkled as she curled her lips back to reveal blackened tusks. “You resembled your whaea for a moment there.”

  “A good start then,” laughed Gore, her voice bitter, looking away. She needed to get out of this place.

  “Indeed.”

  “Wait, what time is it?” asked Debbie, whipping out her scryer, “Oh, that’s lovely. Eleven o’c
lock. Gore, we got two hours before the magic fair starts”

  “Ah shit… I gotta go,” growled Gore, starting to the Magnum Orcus. She stopped midway to the door and looked out through the ruins for her brother.

  For a moment, she reached out to comfort that broken boy. But she stopped before that notion could even take flight, smothered once more by fear and rage and her festering thoughts. Gore shook her head. She had to trust that Aunt Iron Tusk could take care of him. She needed to focus. After all, she had her own problems.

  She opened the Magnum Orcus’s door.

  Then Gore turned to Aunt Iron Tusk and murmured, “Do you think you could take care of him? Try to get him back to normal?”

  “I’ll try. I’ve done some rehab work before but nothing like Bones. Nothing like him…”

  “He’s tough,” murmured Gore, her eyes dropping to the ground, to her heart laying at her feet. She closed her eyes for a long moment. “He’s survived this world. He can survive himself. He just… needs a chance to prove it.”

  Stepping forward, Aunt Iron Tusk smiled and clasped Gore’s shoulder as she growled, “Irāmutu, I think you gave him one.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Magic Fair

  Cold sweat pouring down her neck, her eyes almost white, Gore shook, every fiber in her body rebelling against her control all at once. Her breath caught in her throat in a tight ball. A barrelful of broken glass filled her stomach. Gore stared at the doors before her, at the white light spilling out from within the ballroom.

  A new world lay beyond her if she could just open that door. A new life of endless possibilities.

  If she was just good enough.

  “You gonna be all right?” asked Debbie, pressing her hand against Gore’s arm.

  “I certainly hope so,” growled Gore, rubbing her hands together as she looked around. She sniffed the air. “I don’t still smell, do I?”

  “Eh… I doubt anyone’s gonna smell you in a hall packed full of nerdy students who haven’t bathed in a year.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.” Then Gore frowned. “Also, really insulting to us nerds. Some of us do take showers every few months.”

  “That is true. Though this will have to do,” murmured Debbie as she sprayed Gore with another bottle of disinfect, staring up into Gore’s eyes. Gore could reach down and…

  No. Debbie could never… Gore shook her head and focused on the door. She looked to her other side. To the cart upon which her black box sat humming under a small tarp. Gore shuddered, her heart skipping a beat as she listened to the blood gem’s whisper. Such a frail thing to rest all her hopes and dreams upon. Such a tiny chance to rise above herself.

  Blight… Aunt Iron Tusk was right. Gore wanted to reject her orc self. She already had in so many ways. Refusing the old traditions. Living on her own. Going to college. Was she even an orc anymore?

  But she could never be an elf.

  Gore sighed and rubbed her temples. Too much had happened today. Too many thoughts whirled in her head. Too much gas in the ignition. Sooner or later, she would explode again and maybe this time she wouldn’t be able to piece herself back together.

  “You have to choose,” murmured Aunt Iron Tusk’s voice in the back of Gore’s mind.

  Not yet. Not today.

  Reaching down to grab the handles of the cart, Gore began shuffling forward to the ballroom. She focused on the present, focused on the path before her, on nothing else except her path forward.

  Yet, her thoughts wandered to the ruins of her past.

  A hand pressed onto Gore’s arm, stopping her just before she could burst through the doors. She blinked and turned. Debbie beamed up from below. The dwarf’s trademark smile graced her lips.

  “I’m sure you’ll do great. Just believe in yourself sometimes. Good luck,” murmured Debbie, jumping up to give Gore a peck on the cheek.

  “With any luck… I won’t need any luck,” murmured Gore as she exited the darkened hall into a ballroom of wonder and innovation.

  For a brief heartbeat, an entire century compressed into the blink of an eye, Gore stood there gaping at the various inventions and magical spells her peers had prepared to show off to the world. Hundreds. No. Thousands of world-changing creations. Everything Gore could imagine and more lay in the showroom, just beyond the edge of her grasp.

  Gore whistled and slapped herself, walking through the exhibits, passing by inventions, each more reality defying than the last. Some mundane as more durable furniture constructed through magic, while others excelled in their complexity. She glanced to the right, where new battle armor activated a glint-powered shield as people threw fruit at the student wearing the armor. Then Gore glanced to the left just in time to jump away from a gout of fire. Genetically engineered dragons snapped at Gore from within their all too fragile cages. Blight… how could Gore compete with genetically engineered dragons?

  “You’re shaking,” murmured Debbie, rubbing Gore’s arm. The dwarf’s voice barely rose over the roar of magic and Gore’s own whirling thoughts. “It’s gonna be fine. The judges have seen genetically engineered shit before. Or at least, I hope they have. I don’t come to this stuff much… oh boy… I know that look. Whatcha thinking about?”

  “What? Oh,” chuckled Gore as she realized she was grinning like a child let into a candy store. She glanced into a large vat where someone was running on a treadmill underwater. Tubes ran around the elf’s lithe frame. “Nothing…”

  “You sure?” asked Debbie while they passed by a exhibit where an automated turret created a painting with explosions and paintballs.

  Envisioning an automated turret mounted on the Magnum Orcus for a brief, beautiful second, Gore whistled, “Actually, yeah. I’m thinking stuff.”

  “What a surprise.”

  “I know right?” deadpanned Gore. She rolled her eyes but then murmured with a hush, “I want to take all these inventions and stuff them into the Magnum Orcus. I want to steal all these fool’s hard work and make it my own. I want to—”

  “I think I get it. You have a wet-on for science. Oh wait…It is a wet-on, right?” muttered Debbie, rubbing her chin as they passed by an exhibit where a giant spider spun tapestries of red and gold web.

  “Last I checked, I didn’t have a penis,” chuckled Gore, still searching for her spot. “Though…”

  “Oh, hey, there’s Howard!” cried Debbie, making Gore’s heart stop for a split second. While Gore tried to resume her composure, the dwarf hopped onto the cart and waved to the right. “Hi! Hi! Over here!”

  Gore glanced over a row to see the seven dwarves scurrying around the replicator as it spat out a nude statue. Hair frazzled and puffed up into an afro, Howard snapped around at Debbie and scowled, “Not now! We’re busy!”

  At the dwarf’s words, glint-power cackled into the air, slithering through Howard’s hair and lighting it on fire.

  “Oh shit! Recalibrate! Lower the power!” barked Howard, turning his attention back to the replicator, ignoring his flaming hair.

  “Oh… yeah. Sorry, mister grouchy,” mumbled Debbie, lowering herself back to the ground. “Yeah, we should let them get back to work.”

  Rubbing her hands together, half-praying that the dwarves hadn’t realized the swap, Gore looked away.

  Then Gore found Fin hopping up and down at the very end of the exhibit row. In the corner of the ballroom. Gore sniffed. Mold spores filled the air.

  Of course, Gore growled to herself. Of course, the administration would put the orc in the back of the magic fair. Put her where no one could see her. It was starting to be real petty of them.

  “Huh, you got the corner office,” murmured Debbie, hopping up to wave at Fin.

  She always found a way to look on the bright sight, noted Gore as she angled her cart through the cart. She tried not to bump anyone. Make sure no one could touch her baby.

  Then a familiar voice ripped through the crowd’s murmurs and Gore’s ears, cackling, “Oh, look what the drake dragged
in. An orc. What you gonna show us?

  “Don’t you have something better to do, Tawny?” asked Gore, not even turning around as she continued to her spot.

  But a trio of elves blocked Gore’s path. A heartbeat later, elves surrounded Gore from all sides. Tawny’s little posse.

  “Jagding Blight,” Gore sighed, letting go of the cart and turning around to see Tawny stride down the aisle towards Gore. Perfect as ever.

  The elf waved a wave through the air, ribbons of light trailing her as she stopped outside Gore’s reach. Popping her hip out to the side and flicking her golden locks over her head, Tawny smirked and drawled, “Huh. Nice to see you again, Greenskin. I see you’ve managed to do quite well for yourself outside of school.”

  “What do you want?” asked Gore, crossing her arms while Debbie pressed her back against the orc.

  The dwarf raised her fists and swayed side to side, growling, “I’ll take the ones on the right. You take the ones on the left.”

  Gore raised an eyebrow.

  “Eh,” muttered Debbie, shrugging as she hopped around Gore to Tawny, “Just wanted to lighten the mood a little bit. You guys are so sullen. How about we all just relax and get a drink?”

  “Sure, I can do that,” smirked Tawny, gesturing to the door. “Why don’t we all just step outside? Right. Now.”

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” asked Gore shaking her head. She snarled at one of Tawny’s goons who ventured too close to her cart. They were so tough together but whenever Gore turned her focus on a specific one, the mooks wilted away.

  “Well, I would like for you to drop out of Elvenheim and go back to the Blight. But we can’t all have what we want. That’s just the way the world is. So how about you be a good neighbor and stick to your side of the fence?” hissed Tawny as she twirled her wand in her hands, not taking her eyes away from Gore for even an instant.

  “Not a chance,” growled Gore, stepping forward. The fires curled in her fist. After all that had happened today. After all the bad memories stirred up within Gore. After dealing with her brother… how dare the elven bitch come here and tell her to go back to the Blight. “I was born here. This land is as much mine —if not more— as yours.”