Dubstep Succubus

by Aaron Siverling

  “Of course,” Cherish said, her head in her hands.

  “Hey!" I glared at the women. "It wasn't me.”

  ‘HE KILLED CALLIE!”

  “It wasn't me.”

  “HE KILLED MY NEIGHBOUR!”

  “Why do these things happen to me?”

  “GUARDS!”

  “It wasn't … oh great! Now that songs stuck in my head again!”

  Then I spotted the woman laying face down on the floor a few feet behind my accuser, blood soaking her back.

  “Two,” I pushed past the screaming women and stepped inside “Watch the woman and make sure she doesn't leave.”

  “Confirmed.” Her irritation disappeared when she saw what I saw.

  The woman's shouts cut off when I pushed past her and I quickly bent down to check the bodies wrist for a pulse. When I didn't find one, I tried at the neck and found none there either. The nauseating revulsion I felt when I touched her still warm skin was a surprise.

  With realistic VR and AR games I've seen death up close and personal before.

  But this was different. I could feel that she was dead. Somehow, with that first touch, I could feel the complete absence of life. After touching her wrist I had to force myself to check her neck.

  The smell was the worst part. It wasn't decay exactly, she… it, smelled dead.

  "Ruin? One? Are you okay? You…" Cherish brushed her mind over thoughts before abruptly jerking back. "Oh gods… that's… I'm sorry. I - "

  “No pulse," I said aloud, deliberately interrupting her and letting my voice carry. "The skin is still warm but slightly cooler than normal. Rigor mortis hasn't set in at the hands but it has in the neck. Which means, that if it works the same way here as it does on the Outside, that this wasn't recent. Time of death is likely between two to four hours."

  “How do you know that?” Cherish asked.

  “1940’s Detective VR,” I explained. “They may not be completely accurate, however.”

  I wondered why her blood was liquid and Cherish caught the thought.

  "The blood will mist when a soul is in the body. When the soul is gone, the blood turns liquid. Or back into liquid. I don't think the Natives decay as fast as we do, though."

  I nodded as I examined the scene, looking for anything out of place, muddy footprints, used cigarette butts, glasses with lipstick on the rims.

  Okay, not really. But I did take a look and sniff around the body, then around the rest of the shop.

  I looked behind the counter situated at the back wall and checked the backdoor to find it locked. There was also another locked door, which I presumed to be a storeroom or closet.

  “One. The guards are coming.”

  “Good,” I said and walked out the door.

  I saw several people, some Half-elves in uniforms and a few Centaurs, some guards and some soldiers, rushing toward me. I waved them forward and called, “Over here!”

  They focused on me and the crowd moved to let them pass.

  I saw Private Hoe among them and when I called his name he sped up. I told him the situation as soon as we were close enough to talk without shouting.

  His expression was grim as he used one of the wrist communicators to call for the Guard Captain.

  “Why are you listening to him?” the woman yelled. "He's the one who did it!”

  The Private paused, looking a little unsure himself, as to why he listened to me. Stepping back from the both of us he said, “Well, it's just that… I know him and my uncle, the Captain of the cities militia, knows him. And so far he has shown himself to be honorable."

  A voice from the gathered crowd called out, “Junk cognition! Association and Appeal to Authority Fallacy!”

  “Thank you random citizen!” I put so much sarcasm in my voice I hoped the speaker choked on it.

  “My name's Terrence!” The voice called out again.

  “Thank you, Terrence!” By which I meant 'Shut up and die, Terrence!’.

  Then I addressed the watching guards and pitched my voice towards the crowd.

  “I am not the murderer. This can be easily proved because until half an hour ago I had been in the presence of a Guard since entering the city. Fifteen minutes ago I was in a diner eating pizza. Delicious, delicious pizza… oh Gods that pizza… what was I saying?”

  “I know you're trying to be flippant to avoid freaking out right now," Cherish said, "but they don't. Try to restrain the urge."

  “Oh. Yes. As I was saying! The victim had been dead much longer than that. Nothing appears to be broken and the coin box behind the counter is still intact with money in it. All of which means I have no motivation for the murder. In fact, it is extremely unlikely that any Fallen did this. They would gain nothing from it. This looks personal.”

  The crowd had gone silent as I spoke and when I stopped, there was a wave of quiet muttering.

  I waited a few seconds before raising my voice again. "Also, that means the murder is most likely this chick." I jerked a thumb at my accuser.

  Her eyes bugged out and her face paled. Then flushed red as she shrieked, “No! That's a lie! A lie! He's a lier! Who are you going to believe? Some monster outsider or one of your own! You can't think it's a coincidence that a murder just happened as soon as they all showed up!”

  A voice from the crowd rose again. “I call junk! Ad Hominem, the ‘attack the person not the argument’ fallacy. False Dilemma, the ‘you're either with us or against us’ fallacy and the Questionable Cause 'causal fallacy'! All are invalid arguments!”

  “Thank you random citizen!” I was glad someone was finally my side.

  “The names still Terrence!”

  “Ugh, thank you Terrence.”

  My accuser tried again, using depressingly obvious rhetoric. It was like debate classes in this world were electives or something. Terrance, meanwhile, shot down every one of her arguments in a matter of fact tone.

  This was not an unfamiliar scenario on the Outside. Adults attempting to use fallacies against Subadults. Then Subadults calmly pointing out how they were invalid formal arguments or weak informal arguments.

  That's what happened when you had an entire generation go through debate classes in their formative years.

  Every Fallen in the crowd knew she was lying, badly. And obviously. The natives however, were a different story.

  “This isn’t good.” Cherish said.

  “I know,” I saw the crowd shift restlessly, saw doubt and nervousness creep in. “I’m a stranger in a strange land here.”

  “What's going on here?” A voice, loud, deep and so heavy with authority he generated a reverse gravitational force. Pushing the crowd away from him as he strode forward.

  He was an Orc, human tall with broad shoulders and greenish brown skin. His face was rough with a heavy jaw, lower canines protruding slightly from his bottom lip and a head with no hair to speak of.

  His eyes were as hard and sharp as a bloody blade glinting in the sunlight. When he turned those yellow eyes in my direction I could feel his willingness to cut me down where I stood if he thought it necessary.

  "Not an Orc." Two cautioned me. "A Half-orc. Don't refer to him as an Orc. It's considered rude. I'm not sure why."

  "Confirmed."

  He wore black leather armor that was old, scuffed, roughly repaired but clean and obviously well taken care of. He also wore a guards sash and sword at his hip.

  Historical accounts of medieval judicial practices and "interrogations" ran through my mind as his eyes met mine.

  Cherish must of had similar thoughts, because the sudden chill of fear I felt from her was strong enough to make me grin. As if the fear were my own.

  “Don't do it, One.” Cherish warned me.

  I restrained the urge to say the first thing that popped into my mind.

  Instead, a laugh bubbled out of me. A giggling cackle that made the guards around me backup a few paces.

  I forced my teeth together, trying to bite down on the laughter and ki
ll it.

  I could smell the fear coming from my accuser and Cherish grabbed the woman's arm to stop her from running.

  All the while the Half-orc, who had never stopped moving forward, stared at me.

  On the Outside, multiple recordings of this incident from bystanders, along probable public outcry, would protect me.

  It was different here. I knew I was the outsider, the unknown quantity. I could very well be thrown in prison for a crime I didn't commit, despite all the evidence of my innocence.

  Cherish's thoughts were so close to mine I caught the edges of an escape plan formulating in the back of her mind.

  While she planned for the worst she said, "Here, public opinion works against us. There is currently no representation for the Fallen. Just like on the Outside, there wasn't representation for Subadults in positions of power."

  I understood all that. I knew that laws could only do so much to civilize society. Representation in the public's awareness is what encouraged equal treatment.

  While all this went through our heads the Half-orc came to a stop about fifteen feet away from us. He folded his arms and again asked, “What is going on here?”

  The woman jerked her arm out of Cherish’s grip and started yelling. Jabbing a finger at me as she went through several variations about how I was a murderer and how I needed to be killed or arrested or both.

  The Half-orc just stood there, not saying anything, just listening.

  He waited until she started repeating herself for the third time before putting a hand up. When he did she went quiet.

  When the mutterings in the crowd started and he put his other hand up, instantly silencing the crowd as well.

  I clapped.

  "Wow! Impressive! I wish I had the power to make someone yelling insults and obviously inconsistent arguments shut up with a raised hand.”

  “Ruin.” Cherish reminded me. "First impressions, remember?”

  “Oh please, you know I suck at those! Like a giant mutant amphibious sucker fish with a fetish for - “

  “Ruin! Try! For me?”

  “And for Five. Who is here somewhere.” She added.

  I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her, barely, and turned to face the Half-orc who, I was now certain, was the Captain of the guard.

  In rapid succession I discarded the first three things I was going to say. I reminded myself that I wanted this authority figure to not be mad at me.

  I cleared my throat. Opened my mouth. And with an awkward wave I said, “Heeeey…”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  Cherish face palmed.

  "I told you I suck this!" I whisper yelled at her. "Like a giant organic vacuum cleaner designed by Cthulhu if Cthulhu had a fetish for - ow! Alright! Fine!

  “Ahem... I am 24601-01. My name is Ruin. I'm a Forest Elf. My home world is Midian. I like long walks over shot piers - ow! Cherish stop hitting me! Okay! Fine! Oh and I'm not a murderer. She is.”

  At the last part I pointed at my accuser.

  He turned to look at her and she sputtered half formed protests. The smell of her fear sweat was competing with the smell of the dead woman's blood. Both of which I could smell on her.

  The Half-orc raised his hand again and she stopped talking, again.

  "Millie, you've had your say. More than your say."

  "Millie!" Cherish said. "So that's her name! I wanted to ask her but it felt kinda… like it was the wrong time to do so."

  Then the Half-orc turned to me and asked, “You claim to be innocent in this, do you have proof of such innocence?”

  I told him everything, the timeline of where I was, witnesses to that fact, the condition of the body and how that fit into the timeline.

  "All this is very easily verified, which will prove that I am completely innocent.”

  “Innocent only in this specific case!”

  “Shut up, Terrance!” I snarled into the crowd.

  The Captain gave me a hard look, well, a harder look, and had two guards go and verify my alibi. Then he turned back to me and asked, “What specific evidence do you have that Millie is the murderer?”

  “And why should we listen to you!”

  “Gods above Terrence! If say another word! I will do something so terrible, so horrific, so abominable, so enthusiastically violently violatingly permanent to you. The shadow of your soul will be burned into the genetic memory of every person who witnesses it! In the aftermath, the very earth will crack open and the hordes of Hell will pour forth to give me a standing ovation! The Devil himself will shake my hand and say, ‘Dude, that was awesome!’ And the angels in Heaven will weep tears of despair as they attempt to calculate the amount of paperwork such an act would generate!”

  For a long moment. Not a single word came from the crowd.

  Then Terrance called out, “Sorry!”

  “THAT'S IT!”

  I started forward but Cherish grabbed me around the waist and leaned back. My feet flailed in the air and clawed hands grasped for someone who frantically shoved himself through the crowd in the opposite direction.

  I heard a loud “Ahem” and I froze, remembering the situation I was in and Cherish’s admonishment of “First Impressions.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm good now.”

  “You sure?” she asked as she put me down.

  “I'm sure.” I said back.

  I looked over to see the Captain no longer with his hands folded, but with one at his side and the other resting on the hilt of his sword.

  “Are you… typical of Fallen?” he asked.

  Before I could answer another voice in the crowd (not Terrence) called out, “No! He’s Ruin! Ruin is special!”

  Every Fallen in the crowd seemed to be of the same mind, nodding their heads and murmured their agreement.

  I straightened my shoulders and puffed out my chest. "I am special. Aren't I?”

  When I looked back at the Captain he didn't have his hand on his sword anymore. Instead was rubbing his temples and grumbling, "This is my life. I choose this. I could of been a baker. I like baking. I'm good at baking."

  Then he stopped and looked back up at me. "It was a valid question. Why should we listen to you.”

  He looked like he was a hair's breadth away from arresting us all and sorting it all out later if I didn’t give him a good answer.

  “He is right.” A woman's voice came from the crowd and when she spoke people quickly made room for her. "For what reason should we value of your opinion in this matter.”

  It was a Half-elf women in a snow white dress that reminded me of a Roman toga. She was mature, the lines around her eyes and mouth seemed to have been etched with smiles and laughter rather than sorrow and sadness. Her red hair was streaked with white and her movements were smooth and unhurried.

  People spoke in hushed tones but I was able to hear the words “Priestess” and “Death” and “Four Gods”.

  Everyone moved out of her way as she headed towards us.

  When she left the crowd she nodded at the Half-orc with a slight smile before saying, “Captain Orkus.”

  He nodded back, his scowl lessening slightly as he said, “Priestess Adel.”

  "Orkus?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. "What. Really?"

  Cherish winced and glared at me but the Captain just sighed and said, "I didn't pick it. It's a very common name among Half-orcs. No one's sure why."

  "Back to the matter at hand?" The Priestess interjected and stepped directly in front of the door to gaze down at the dead woman.

  With a sigh, she said, “When it rains…”

  “Its acid rain…” I finished for her.

  She looked at me oddly and said, “... no. When it rains it pours.”

  Before I derailed the conversation further into trainwreck Cherish stepped in. "Adel. It's nice to see you again.”

  The Priestess smiled. "And you as well Cherish. Although I wish it were under better circumstances.”

 
Then she turned toward me, looking at me appraisingly. "And you must by Ruin. I have heard many things about you.”

  I bowed to her with an elegant, courtly flourish I had spent hours perfecting in front of a mirror in order to impress a girl I met once at a pancake restaurant.

  The bow ended with me taking a step forward, scooping up her hand and kissing the back of it.

  “I have heard very little about you but from when I have heard, and what I see before me,” I looked deep into her eyes, “you are as wise as you are beautiful.”

  Her eyes widened, Cherish groaned aloud and the guards gawked, open mouthed.

  “Well, that's… very forward of you.” She cleared her throat and I let go of her hand as she said, “While I appreciate the flattery and your flirting is amusing, why should we - “

  “Flirting!” I drew myself up. "I not not flirt or flatter beautiful women. When I say a beautiful woman is beautiful, it is with complete and utter, truthiness and sinceritiness!”

  “Ruin?” Cherish said.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “Focus,” she said.

  “Oh, right.” I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders and said, in my most serious voice, “Well, to answer your question. I have learned from the greatest detectives my world has to offer. Sam Spade, Philip Marlowe, John Taylor and Harry Dresden, just to name a few. I already know what happened here, if you so desire, I will explain.”

  Adel looked over at Orkus who gave a tiny shrug. She turned back to me and gestured me to continue.

  “Excellent!” I clapped my hands and rubbed them together vigorously. "Now here's what happened - “

  “Wait.” Cherish broke in. "If you're the Priestess of Death, can't you just ask her soul or ghost or whatever to find out who killed her?”

  The Priestess smiled sadly. "Priests don’t work that way. Our power comes from the Gods. The Gods, or the A.I. game controllers as you call them, have hard limits to how much they are allowed, or are in fact willing, to interfere.”

  “Okay.” I raised my hand like I was still in school and said, “I know this is totally off topic but I have to ask. Why?”

  The other Fallen in the crowd started whispering and the general tone seemed to follow my own question.