ã€ŠDuplicityã€‹


 Prologue - Part 1

    ¡°Lyman Leepsky here to let you all know your lives could be changed for the better RIGHT AWAY! Are you bored, sad, unsatisfied, have terrifying mental issues that loom over your existence? Well, tomorrow I¡¯ll be unveiling my new project all across the world, wherever you may be, and I¡¯ll be sure to fix you right up! My certified, 100% legal methods recommended by real doctors, will leave you feeling like a new person faster than the pain suddenly moved into your brainspace! Just go to your nearby search tool, and look up The Paradise Program to learn more, and sign up with this once in a lifetime chance to be one of the lucky four to try the program early!¡±

    The commercial blared to an old figure, sulking under the sheets of his bed with a plate upon his lap. The meal consisted of brazed fish, and some various pickings, covered in a golden honey glaze, shimmering in the reflection of the television¡¯s light. To others, quite a feast indeed. To him, it hardly looked appetizing.

    He brought the fork to his fur coated mouth, with a slice of fish skewered in its prongs. He ate it quite quickly. It was rather chewy, but he hardly minded, food is food.

    Within about ten minutes, he¡¯d finished and reached over to his bedside table. Upon it was a bell with a handle, meant for calling attention. He rang it.

    The door slowly opened within seconds and a small, although tall for his kind¡¯s size, rodent-esque figure walked through the door. The room¡¯s size seemed made for his stature, and he was taller than the door handle. He had one floppy ear reaiming on his head and a cheap, yet snazzy looking suit on. His skin was covered in a coat of white fur and he held out his hand to take the old man¡¯s plate, who held it out dismissively, not able to look over.

    ¡°Master Stygian, do you need anything else?¡± he said in a deep, yet refined accent which didn¡¯t fit his fluffy appearance whatsoever.

    The man turned his slick furred head to the bipedal rabbit, the curled horns on his head scraping against his pillow he was propped up against.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m heading to bed. But first, the bathroom. Could you help me up, Archibald?¡± the man asked, his voice a tad grouchy and monotone, but not unkindly toward his butler. Their voices held similar class, on a listen, they were almost the same, but he held small differences to the rabbit.

    Archibald, without a word, helped the man to his feet. He was a large otter, around half a human¡¯s height, with a mustache and a small pair of ram¡¯s horns on his head. Nestled between them was a bed cap, matching his blue and white woolen pajamas.

    He trotted rather awkwardly across the hall to his bathroom on two legs, holding his butler¡¯s paw to balance himself in his tired state. He went in alone and shut the door behind him.

    After emptying his bladder, he stared into the mirror, grooming his moustache with a tiny comb made for this sort of thing. He made his way to the door and opened it, he was about to enter the room where his life would begin to spiral out of control.

    Archibald greeted the otter and began to take him across the hall, but suddenly, another rabbit came racing toward them, out of breath.

    ¡°Stygian, you have to come, it¡¯s your son!¡± he huffed alarmingly. And in an instant, Stygian was rushing away with him.

    Nove was far from average, an outsider, someone that was generally thought only trouble. Nove, among her species, did not fit in.

    She is a woodworker by passion, and has been for almost her entire life. But, her species doesn¡¯t like that.

    Nove is a Halicanth, they are like swamp goblins, basically. Large ears, dark green skin, save for some like Nove who are more pale. They are aggressive isolationists. They call it independence, but Nove knew otherwise.

    And Nove had a sister. Had, specifically, in past tense. She was ¡®independent¡¯ too.

    And now that her family left her tribe, they had all separated after their own stances on this single issue destroyed them. Now, Nove was alone. Alone in a forest, with the rain pouring through the trees.

    She knelt beneath a mighty oak, chisel in hand. She was carving a pattern into it, it was curving, wistful, and free. She was free too, free to go wherever, as long as she could weather the journey. She didn¡¯t feel free though. She was bound to a single task. Find and free her father, and then maybe her mother, but it¡¯d be an afterthought.

    Actually, fuck mom. She is just dead weight if they were to be a family. She was the one who started ¡®The Fight¡¯. The same one that ended in her sister¡¯s death, her father¡¯s imprisonment, and her family''s separation. Nove did miss her sister, but she also did resent her standpoint on the issues plaguing her old society. In fact, she wanted to stay with the tribe.

    Her standpoint was so strong in fact, she was willing to let her own father die.

    He was to be executed for his radical viewpoints. Alliance with the humans? Alliance with anyone that wasn¡¯t Halicanth is unheard of, and with a repeated, insistant voice like his, it meant the death penalty.

    Nove was fond of the humans from what she heard, although after she went out on their little family trip and saw what they did to each other, let alone her father, she was more than displeased with them now. And while she didn¡¯t miss home, she didn¡¯t love it here either.

    ¡°Bloody fuck, what the hell am I doing with myself.¡± she silently whispered in her favored language of English, looking into a fresh puddle forming among the grass. As she saw herself, the pale green Halicanth, with her fluorescent veiny orange flaps of ears contrasting against her shaky, unsure black hair, she felt unease. Uneasy that if her father had already died, she¡¯d be alone. So hopelessly alone.

    She wanted to scream, but held it back. She was hardly a proper lady, but if she were to scream, she¡¯d not only attract wild beasts, but she¡¯d sound like one herself, like her disgusting tribe.

    So she waited, under the tree, on the brink of tears. Waiting for the rain to cease, so she could continue her lonely march towards a location she didn¡¯t even decide. Her mind was scattered, she couldn¡¯t think straight, and in that moment of chaos, a figure emerged from the rainfall.

    ¡°Hello there. Nove, is it?¡± the well dressed figure said, inviting the soaking Halicanth under his umbrella.

    A middle aged man sat in city traffic with a cellphone to his ear. If the dreary sky looming over the cars wasn¡¯t enough to get the drivers honking, the exuberantly long wait ahead was gonna do it. And they were already at it. The man didn¡¯t seem like he was as peeved at this situation as his compatriots in purgatory were. Humans will be humans though, however annoyingly stupid they may be.

    ¡°We have several cases for you, Mr. Idly.¡± said a female voice through his smartphone.

    ¡°Mhm, go on then Marsha.¡± a voice replied smugly, his accent a little Irish.

    ¡°We have a homicide to a respected colleague of-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t do petty murders Marsha, you know this, ayun?¡± Mr. Idly interrupted, a tad peeved.

    ¡°Yes, Drew.¡± the female voice replied calmly, as if she got this crap quite a bit. Like what the fuck does ¡®Ayun?¡¯ even mean? It didn¡¯t sound like she cared, you should, though!

    ¡°We have a respected billionaire weapons expert suspected of laundering money.¡± she continued.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    ¡°We¡¯ve captured like three war criminals this month, anything interesting?¡±

    The honking continued, to Drew¡¯s dismay. Dumbass humans, angry at nothing.

    ¡°Traffic, huh?¡± Marsha asked. ¡°And it¡¯s gonna rain. You depressed?¡±

    ¡°I told you, Marsha, you have to try to be more subtle. Or make me laugh. Neither of those you¡¯re really good at.¡± Drew explained kindly. He was always careful to not offend those he plans to get something out of later, maybe giving them something as menial as a bit of advice would yield something far greater in the future.

    ¡°Fine.¡± she didn¡¯t sound happy. ¡°We have a certain Lyman Leepsky in town. He¡¯s the therapist chap from the telly. He¡¯s suspected of violating-¡±

    ¡°Fuck yes! How the hell did you find Lyman fuckin¡¯ Leepsky? The man only shows his face in his commercials then vanishes!¡± Drew exclaimed, getting a couple stares from inside his neighbored cars.

    ¡°Drew, are you a fan of his or something? Or did he do something to you?¡±

    ¡°Something like that, yeah.¡± Drew replied, not really answering the question.

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s one of his offices he¡¯s been seen at, even if he¡¯s not there it¡¯d be a good place to start.¡±

    ¡°Address?¡±

    ¡°434 Jules Street, out in Manchester.¡±

    ¡°On it, Marsha! I could kiss that sexy ass of yours!¡±

    ¡°Drew Idley!¡± she gasped. Indeed it was a bit of a tasteless comment, but part of her liked it, and it disturbed her.

    ¡°Bye, Marsha Lark!¡± Drew mimicked her, chuckling to himself as he hung up the phone. He didn¡¯t like Marsha¡¯s boring personality that much, but she somehow got a changeling to fall for a human, which was incredibly difficult. And she was rather helpful too. But she was just another body, and not much else, and he wanted to tell her that respectfully.

    Normally he¡¯d not care, but around the rest of the MI6, he had to appear as if he had some shred of care about working for them, and not be as reckless as his favored facade. Although now that he¡¯d found Leepsky¡­ maybe he¡¯d just cut himself loose soon. Once he had Lyman¡¯s head on a platter, what use would they be?

    Definitely more than he thought¡­

    Elsewhere in the same city a short figure adorning a hood upon her head trekked down a street, checking people¡¯s faces as she went. Despite the ragged outfit, she still shivered as the cold crept through the fabric. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t just the cold. The figure did feel it¡¯s biting, despite their lack of conventional organs, but her fear may be contributing more to the situation.

    It had been a long week, and ever since she¡¯d fled the monastery, she¡¯d not spoken to another person for anything other than perhaps a bus fare. And she¡¯d slept on the cold hard ground, hoping nobody would come by into an alley and kill her. Of course nobody would do that to a human, but they would to a Sycanthe.

    She wasn¡¯t cut out to live like this.

    Something in her mind told her she should, perhaps it was just a dark voice, one she should avoid. It told her that after all this time, from this week to before her stay at the monastery, she should be better at roughing it on the streets.

    Her eyes welled up with tears, shimmering like diamonds on her crystalline face, perfectly smooth and cleanly cut like a gem. It was that same beautiful face that her parents turned a blind eye to, the same one they sold to gain a temporary ally in the temporary war they fought.

    The most miniscule voice told her she was a hero. She¡¯d allowed her race a time of peace that¡¯s lasted years now, all through her life. No¡­ No¡­ the voice was so unbelievably wrong. Shame on her for even thinking that.

    The Sycanthe, being directly connected to Wyld magic, but extremely sparse, were a hot commodity among the rich and powerful. Not only did they have the largest library in the world of magical texts and spells, most of which have been unheard of to human mages, they can remember lots of it. Sycanthe were that of a walking library, and this teenager''s existence was treated as nothing more than knowledge for the scholars of the world, and a jewel for the rich to brag about.

    She was on the brink of crying in public, and she was already getting people staring at her, more than usual. Even if you didn¡¯t know what a Sycanthe was, their face would instantly leave you guessing what it was, leaving her always wondering why they were staring.

    Without realizing it, she¡¯d walked past her intended destination. She removed her hood when the people around her had fully dispersed. Her ¡®hair¡¯ glimmered even under the cloudy sky, with little nodes of crystal jutting up from her hairline. It was curly and modest for who she was, but, like her body, it was one uniform thing. It rustled a little like normal hair, but it wasn¡¯t in strands, instead like a sculpture made of glass. It was an off pink faded into a bluish purple, just like the rest of her body.

    She gazed up at the building, her hood no longer blocking her vision. She wiped away the tears in her eyes and sniffled a little, it made a noise, as if there was snot, but nobody could see it from the outside of her. It didn¡¯t look like the place, it was a dumpy building, but the sign said otherwise. The interior didn¡¯t look terrible, at least compared to the state of the exterior, covered in bird droppings. While birds did fascinate her, their ability to defecate at this rate sure didn¡¯t.

    Without another thought, she moved to the door, marked with a ¡®Closed¡¯ sign, and swung it open, realizing she needed to push, not pull. A bell chimed as she walked inside.

    Upon entering the room, the air inside smelt considerably more fresh, and the feeling of the warm air conditioning on her ¡®skin¡¯ calmed her down a little. The atmosphere was pleasant, with sky blue walls and a couple of plants that were certainly fake, but still did their job.

    A man came from a door at the back of the room. She instantly recognized him, his costume as overly flamboyant as on the TV. He was Lyman Leepsky, and he looked more like a mannequin for a ringmaster Halloween costume than a therapist.

    His threads were green with a touch of yellow upon some garments, like the ring around the base of his top hat. Everything, from his coat¡¯s exuberantly long trails, which were dwarfed by his cape, which, along with his trails, reached the floor, to his bowtie covered in little rubber ducky prints which was wider than his own head.

    ¡°Julia? I¡¯m so glad to finally meet you in person!¡± he jived, seeing her forlorn expression and not bringing it up.

    ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t think I¡¯d meet you in person, in fact, Mr. Leepsky.¡± Julia stuttered, brushing her ragged, dirty jacket.

    ¡°Franbizzle, my crystalline friend! You won the contest, I should be hosting a jubilee in this very vestibule! Sadly, I don¡¯t have the budget for such things, but no matter, you are welcome to spend the night, if you feel so pressured!¡± Lyman exclaimed, his hands making movements like that of a cartoon character, and his mouth animated with joy as it produced gibberish words Julia couldn¡¯t comprehend. Although, she did hear the option of spending the night. She would have passed him up on any other day, but her sadness incurred her to consider it much more closely.

    ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s very kind of you.¡± Julia said weakly, her eyes still trying to take in all the little intricacies of the therapist¡¯s costume.

    ¡°I know, I¡¯ve heard it all before.¡± he said, tipping his hat. ¡°Now then, I don¡¯t see why we can¡¯t start our first session right away! So why don¡¯t you trot on into the back and I¡¯ll whip up some wonders for you, miss?¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± she said, unsure of herself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid!¡± he replied, sensing fear in her voice. ¡°I have PHD¡¯s for a reason, you know!¡±

    He¡¯d forged them.

 Prologue - Part 2

    Stygian had reached a new low.

    There was his son, his own fur and blood, a million cuts covering his body and face down on a spinning wheels long needle, which barely reached the other end of his blood-soaked neck, poking out the back.

    Stygian had been driven over to his son¡¯s estate in quite a rush, he was still in his pajamas. His lucidity didn¡¯t allow him to fully comprehend the sight before him. He was speechless.

    There were several detectives in the room and a cop car outside, along with an ambulance. Despite this, it was nearly dead silent inside the crafts room, its curtains shut, making it rather claustrophobic. The golden glow of the light upon the blood, the quiet chatter of the rodent authorities talking amongst themselves, Stygian began to sink back into reality.

    ¡°WHO DID THIS!?¡± he finally shouted at the top of his lungs, getting everyone in the room¡¯s attention.

    A white mouse figure, as tall as Stygian, approached him. He wore a blue policeman¡¯s outfit and held out his golden badge. ¡°Stygian Thornswoggle, was it? I¡¯m Officer Milford Mannings, and I am so sorry about your son, quite a grueso-¡±

    ¡°Skip the pleasantries, cop.¡± Stygian butted in, saying the ¡®C¡¯ word like he was hocking up mucus. ¡°Who in the heavens did this? An assassin? Rouge soldier?¡±

    ¡°Well, if you¡¯d asked me three years ago, I¡¯d have come up blank, but with the cold war raging on¡­ most possibilities are open to suggestion. Tell me, Mr. Thornswoggle, did you have any enemies?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a retired general, enemies run in the business. I¡¯ve never been into a warzone, but I have killed a couple men, though.¡± Stygian replied blankly, calming down a little as the pain set in.

    ¡°It could just be someone looking for vengeance, then. Do you remember the names of the men you¡¯ve killed? I could look into it when I get back to the station¡¯s computer. But to be honest, this is more a job for the AVC, I don¡¯t get many homicide cases, and since you¡¯re wealthy...¡±

    ¡°Yeah, whatever. I¡¯m going back home to sleep. I¡¯ll deal with this tomorrow. I¡¯ll have my butler dig up the names. Tell someone to brief me when I return in the morning.¡± Stygian yapped orders around. His mind was still in shock, but not vigilant enough to keep himself awake.

    As he reentered his car, Archibald hopping into the driver seat, his mind began to race. He remembered his child fondly. It was his only one, and while he didn¡¯t talk with him much, his early years had so many memories. He just wanted to say goodbye.

    His son was to inherit the family fortune, part of the noble family to the President of Staglia, a large nation to the north of the Equator. Now, that fortune would go to¡­ who? He had nobody left in his lineage.

    He couldn¡¯t think of it anymore. It was for tomorrow. Maybe he¡¯d just take some sleeping pills to drown out the madness. He saved them for special occasions, he¡¯d been addicted to tons of different things in his life, and was wise enough to limit his own dosage by now. And of course, it wasn¡¯t just drugs.

    He had this kind of personality that would drive him to take up new addictions, but he was working on it. His selfishness, addictive personality, and senile mentality were things he hated about himself.

    He was doing it for his son. So he¡¯d want to see him again.

    Nobody wanted to see him, he was a terrible person, he knew it.

    As he exited the car however, he realized someone did want to see him. Someone he knew, in fact. Someone he didn¡¯t want at his estate at 1 in the morning.

    ¡°Look who¡¯s finally back, didn¡¯t want to greet me?¡± said a female voice from the front porch. She sipped on a pina-colada with a little umbrella for extra style. Why she had energy at this hour and where the hell she even got a pina-colada from was hardly the first question, although not far down on the list of crap Stygian wanted to ask her.

    ¡°Niece.¡± Stygian grumbled, not bothering to address her by name.

    ¡°Out for a midnight joyride in your¡­ what kind of car is that? I can¡¯t recognize it.¡± she continued incessantly.

    ¡°Your cousin is dead, Vanis.¡±

    <hr>

    Nove didn¡¯t join the man. Nove stared at him deeply, her yellow eyes currently crimson with insomnia, but didn¡¯t join him.

    ¡°Well well, why is a hopeless little Halicanth like you out in the rain, so far from South America?¡± the figure asked, ribbing her. She wasn¡¯t happy.

    ¡°Screw you, I¡¯m not hopeless.¡± she said blanky. Her eyes stayed focused on him, but she hesitated to make any movements. For a second, she thought she might actually be hopeless. But she¡¯d not want help from whoever this was. I¡¯m sure you may have a clue as to who it is, though.

    ¡°Yes, but you are young and stupid. And immensely unequipped to fare well before the challenges ahead. Your father is¡­ brave, just like you, but he¡¯s also trapped, and the people who are holding him miiiight not want some nosey little squirt like you plocketing about their reserve. But hey, you¡¯ve got pretty ears, so I¡¯m sure a fellow ear enthusiast would be happy to help. So if I could borrow yours, in a non-literal sense, and perhaps we¡¯ll¡­¡±

    ¡°I hate people who talk with nothing to say, scram.¡± she said boldly, not noticing the firearm in his pocket.

    ¡°Nove. I always admired your fortitude against your people.¡± the man continued, not giving any thought to her opinion on verbal harassment. ¡°But, I didn¡¯t realize until hearing your voice how that gesture doesn¡¯t extend to just them. You¡¯re a rebel, aren¡¯t you?¡± he giggled. Nove wanted him to die. She loathed the way he showed no respect. Not to her, she was used to that, even saw it as an admirable trait. No, Nove was pissed because this guy was trying to show her respect while simultaneously harassing her. His angle was unclear, his motives were concealed.

    She was being beaten, and she hated to lose.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.¡°How the fuck do you know all this shit about some dirty immigrant Halicanth?¡± she asked, degrading herself in the process.

    ¡°Oh, I dunno.¡± he said. And then there was a pause. A quick one, around 3 seconds, where time seemed to slow. The rain being the only moving thing in view.

    And then a jolt. She suddenly found herself at gunpoint. Standard pistol. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you tribal savages know what a gun is, so I¡¯ll inform you. If you make a move, I¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°Turn that thing upon yourself, pervert. I wanna see your racist blood mixed with the rainwater. Because I¡¯m smarter than you can comprehend. I know if you wanted me dead, you would have pulled the trigger by now.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ gotta make sure to write down your cockiness. You sure like being a grade A dickwad, don¡¯t you, Nove? Now, I see ¡®Miss Halicanth Rights Activist¡¯ doesn¡¯t like being talked to, so how about I offer something? Your sister, your father, maybe your mother. I know where they are, and I can help you get them. But since you don¡¯t like listening, I suppose things might have escalated a little, sweetheart.¡± he snickers under his own breath, holding the pistol with one hand, trying to be a badass. And if his costume weren¡¯t drenched, he might look pretty cool. Instead, he looked deranged, tired, and, indeed, a little intimidating.

    ¡°What the hell do you mean, my family, my dead sister? Who are you?¡± Nove asked, still wet, now confused, still mad.

    ¡°Now look who¡¯s interested. I understand loss like yours. I don¡¯t feel it anymore, since my family met their end long ago, but I digress. Dear Nove, I am Lyman Leepsky, the best therapist in, perhaps the world! Please don¡¯t mistake me after this day for another title without the ¡®T.H.E.¡¯. My actions are far more pure than your own, and you are in the presence of a god without his throne.¡±

    Nove rolled her bloodshot eyes.

    ¡°You, Halicanth, are definitely worthy of my time, for you will help me cleanse this world of sinners, make them saints, and discard the jaffe. That includes your un-happy family. Don¡¯t you want them to be together? Aren¡¯t you tired of not being loved or understood? I can give you them, and the mental skill to fix it. All of it. Maybe even help your people, you poor thing. Can I also add, you look charming? Even without clothes. I¡¯ll get you those too.¡±

    Good lord, fuck this guy.

    ¡°If you accept my offer, you¡¯ll be in exotic lavish luxury. All you have to do is take a walk with me.¡± Leepsky grinned, his drenched hair almost covering his glinting eyes.

    Nove was smarter than her people. Actually, she was a lot of things ¡®-than her people¡¯. Paler, craftier, prettier, kinder... to name a few. But her people saw these things through tainted eyes of envy. She rarely received kindly comments from anyone other than her father. But through years of rigor and hardship, she¡¯d lost some of those things.

    The kind, open girl she once was, gone. Replaced with a bitter shell who¡¯d seen the world for what it was now. The best she could hope for of her family was seeing her father, nevermind the rest of her family. The bridge had collapsed long ago, it just took a little time until the coyote noticed gravity would lead him to plummet to his death.

    What kind of a future would she even have? Maybe some nice house with her father if she was lucky. That was the best case scenario. Of course the worst case scenario was unfathomable, anything was possible. Any amount of horror could occur on her journey to Dad.

    If this loon was getting her half the crap he was offering, heck, even some clothes would be nice. She rarely wore them as her people didn¡¯t care about nudity, but she liked having an outfit personally, and it meant warmth¡­ She missed that quite a lot.

    The rain was cold, and the sky was only going to get darker. She thought about the pittering upon her roof back at home... No, she wouldn¡¯t call that a home any more. The rain was so soft though, now it felt as each droplet was another voice telling her to say¡­

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. Off we go. I¡¯m glad you-¡± Lyman began, but Nove shut him up.

    ¡°If you say one more fucking word, I¡¯ll be as good as gone.¡± she demanded.

    ¡°Your loss.¡± he said, putting his gun away and extending an untaken hand before they walked off through the downpour together, each at a distance.

    <hr>

    Drew is not one of many changelings. He is perhaps the only one he knows. He is immortal, but he obviously wouldn¡¯t let anyone know that, since he¡¯s a right trickster.

    Humanity has had many myths of trickster gods. Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Norse, all have someone who wants to cause trouble. And the Celts were no different.

    The Morrigian was a mythical goddess who had goals and motivations unknown to all but herself. The Irish believed she helped rivers and forests, but Drew was none of any of this. He was definitely male, and he didn¡¯t help shit. And he certainly wasn¡¯t a deity.

    Drew did, however, have goals that only he knew, and even then only recently. Before that, he reveled in freedom and near psychopathic levels of trickery, deception, and plain ol¡¯ fun.

    And before that¡­ oh¡­ before that¡­ Quite a time indeed.

    Anyway, Drew was just a nickname he¡¯d given himself. A singular constant through his existence. His original name was quite long, and he didn¡¯t really like it all that much. Drew just had this zing to it that he just loved.

    But, why he joined the MI6 is another question entirely. One whose answer will be revealed with a bit of time.

    For now, Drew remained focused on Leepsky, as he arrived at his establishment. He parallel parked right out front, in the disabled person¡¯s spot. Peering in, he immediately saw the man in question talking to a girl, her height caused him to think she was young, but upon closer inspection, she probably was just short.

    Without hesitation, he waltzed across the pavement and through the door, the bell chiming to announce his entrance.

    ¡°Hello, scumbag! Been a while!¡± Drew grinned as Mr. Leepsky stopped in his tracks, his skin going pale in fear.

    ¡°He¡¯s back, Lyman.¡± the therapist heard a voice say.

 Prologue - Part 3

    Vanis sat up in bed, still about as shocked at the news as she was upon hearing it. She¡¯d left the window open, the moonlight pouring in with a cool summer breeze rustling the thin curtains. She was in the attic... Typical Uncle Stygian, never having rooms prepared in his eight bed nine bath ocean view mansion.

    She was a white otter, almost seventeen in age, with two childish ponytails the same color as her fur. She didn¡¯t have rammish horns like her uncle, although she always thought they looked super quirky and would make all the boys want to go out with her. Instead, she had golden tassels growing from behind her ears, as the females of their species all had. They were a part of her, unlike her hair, she couldn¡¯t just cut them, in fact, they were sensitive.

    With them, she could feel just as well as she could with her fingertips, but unable to control them directly, they were just pretty at that point. Although she knew some of her friends, still growing theirs in, could control them a little better, brushing them around, and she read of adult otters who could lift things with them. But for now, she was still immature.

    Her cousin came to mind again. They were good friends back in the day, probably the best. Stygian, along with many others, weren¡¯t good enough for her. Years later, they moved, and she¡¯d only get to see him each year around her birthday when her parents went on their honeymoon, which seemed to coincide perfectly. She¡¯d come early this year, and was expecting to see him when she arrived at the mansion. She¡¯d not seen him for two years this time, and really missed him. Now those two years would become a lifetime.

    She thought what his final minutes must have been. Kai had died, and the further she went, that fact only made her more sad.

    Within a couple minutes of terrible thoughts, she found herself dizzily hobbling over to her uncle¡¯s door, the alcohol and sleep depravity taking its effect.

    It was to her surprise when she found her uncle already awake upon opening the door.

    ¡°Hmph¡­ can¡¯t sleep either?¡± he asked quietly. Vanis was unsure of whether he was giving sympathy or not.

    ¡°No¡­¡± she said disrespectfully at a normal volume.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a clue what I¡¯m going to do with myself.¡± he muttered solemnly. This wasn¡¯t like the Stygian Vanis remembered at all.

    ¡°Hmm.. there¡¯s always therapy, uncle. I wouldn¡¯t want you doing anything drastic.¡± the white otter suggested, pulling out her phone.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to commit suicide, if that is what you were thinking.¡± he scolded, staring into her eyes. She looked ready to fall over on the floor.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get you set up with a therapist anyway.¡± Vanis said, flopping into a chair and tapping away at her device. The back of the phone sported an upright feather icon made of silver. ¡°I won this free coupon for a month of sessions, I¡¯ll let you have it.¡±

    ¡°What? Why do you have something like that?¡± Stygian asked.

    ¡°I enter a ton of promotions and contests and stuff. This guy called Lyman Leepsky wrote me personally saying I¡¯d won.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ I saw that guy on TV earlier¡­ seems like a right nutcase.¡± the general sighed.

    ¡°I think my mom knew him, I never met him though. He seems alright to me, just trying to sell his new product.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need therapy.¡± Stygian said stubbornly, crossing his arms.

    ¡°But it isn¡¯t therapy, Lyman is doing some sort of new method that isn¡¯t-¡±

    ¡°Why are you even up at this hour, Vanis? I don¡¯t want it. Go to bed. We¡¯ll worry about Kai tomorrow.¡± Stygian said dismissively, wanting the conversation to end.

    ¡°Fine Uncle, just know I tried to help you, but you refused it, this is why I never liked you.¡± the female otter said, marching out of the room.

    ¡°Vanis, wait!¡± Stygian gasped, reaching out a hand, but she was already gone. He slumped into bed with a frown on his face.

    He was depressed at how he¡¯d acted. Age had deteriorated his kindness, but not his hearing. As soon as he heard the clicking from his window, he turned his head in an instant as it opened, the lock fell to the floor as the glass swung open.

    And in stepped Lyman Leepsky, in the flesh.

    ¡°You should have listened to your adorably annoying niece, Stygian. But I figured your stubbornness would get in the way. So I am now going to forcefully get you to visit my establishment.¡± the therapeutic kidnapper whispered as dramatically as possible while stuffing a white cloth doused with some type of sleeping agent into the otters little black nose.

    Before he could scream, he was already knocked out. He probably didn¡¯t hear to the end of Lyman¡¯s sentence. And that night, nobody would know he was even missing until morning¡¯s light.

    And by then, he was already having his first, and last, session with Dr. Leepsky.

    <hr>

    Leepsky stared at Drew on the other side of the room, unable to make a move. There was a short awkward pause without any sounds as the two made eye contact, Drew¡¯s grin causing the false therapist to sweat.

    ¡°Yes hi, welcome to Lyman Leepsky¡¯s Paradise Program, we are currently closed, get out.¡± Leepsky said, dropping Julia¡¯s hand and waltzing up to Drew, trying to kick him out.

    He forcefully grabbed the agents shoulders, turning him around and pushing him through the open door.

    ¡°I know what you came here for, but I¡¯m with a custom-AGH!¡± Lyman whispered into Drew¡¯s ear covertly as they walked. But within seconds he had a gun and badge in his surprised face.

    ¡°I¡¯m Drew Idley with the MI6, I¡¯ve just come to do a routine sweep of your building Mr. Leepsky, and would appreciate your cooperation.¡± he explained, pretending to forget what happened under a new mood.

    ¡°Oh of course! Come on in.¡± Lyman stuttered, sweating more, but holding his composure. Meanwhile, Julia looked upon the scene unraveling before her with abject confusion.

    ¡°Perfect! Well, show me around, I¡¯ll only take up mere moments of your time.¡±

    Lyman knew this was a lie. He¡¯d seen the authorities before, and a ¡®routine sweep¡¯ meant ¡®we¡¯re gonna find false evidence and search for the next couple days looking for what we want¡¯. But he knew Drew, even through his form. He purposefully spoke in the same accent he remembered to scare him, but Lyman wouldn¡¯t have it. However, whatever Drew was going to do would be worse, and Lyman would do whatever he could muster to stop him.

    Lyman led the agent, with Julia awkwardly watching the person she was supposed to trust show off his secrets. The backrooms were a tight mess of hallways with a couple of doors leading to friendly, yet lifeless offices with nobody in them. The three seemed to be the only ones in the building.

    ¡°Here we have our patented ¡®Meditative Lyman Therapy¡¯ rooms, where I perform the sessions that make the patients open up and learn to enjoy their month of sessions with me.¡± Lyman bullshited. These rooms had dust all over the tables, bookshelves, and fake plants, as fake as the scheme itself.

    Drew noticed, made the connection, but said nothing. However, Lyman, as if he was reading his mind, spoke up. ¡°The dust is just because we¡¯ve not opened officially yet. I¡¯ll have a cleaning crew come in on our opening day.¡±

    ¡°This place looks pretty finished to me, why haven¡¯t you opened yet?¡± Drew asked in his ¡®agent voice¡¯, a serious tone he reserved for this job.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to set up a simultaneous completion of over five hundred offices world wide, and counting. I¡¯m just trying to serve the greater good here, why not come back and check for misconduct when each of those rooms is filled with happy customers?¡± Lyman said, slyly advertising to Julia while he did his tour. Gotta love a multitasker.

    ¡°I already see a ¡®happy customer¡¯ right here, Mr. Leepsky. And I don¡¯t think she¡¯s enjoying walking around this crappy place with us.¡± Drew pointed out, looking at a quiet Julia walking behind them at a bit of a distance. He gave her a light smile when she perked up to him, but she didn¡¯t smile back. This was the last thing she wanted to happen, she almost wanted to kick the agent out as well, even if Lyman was a fraud. She was sick of being on the run.

    Lyman led them through the hall as it curved to the left, right past a big metal door with ¡°Employees Only¡± on it. Drew took Lyman by his massive collar and pulled him backward, forcefully swinging him so he could see the door.

    ¡°So laddie, why do you have a supervillain¡¯s door inside your therapy office?¡± Drew asked silently, his head perched upon Lyman¡¯s shoulder.

    Lyman stuttered for a second, looking at the door himself with a very different gaze from Drew¡¯s.

    ¡°That¡¯s a little lab¡­ I do my experiments there to determine-¡±

    ¡°Cut the crap and open it, Leepsky!¡± Drew shouted, Julia jumping a little at the auditory spike.

    Leepsky sighed. ¡°Well, you see sir, I don¡¯t have the key. And without the key, I cannot-¡±

    ¡°THEN FIND IT!¡± yelled the agent, losing his temper.

    ¡°Sure. You don¡¯t have to raise your volume at me, sir.¡±

    ¡°An¡¯ quit callin¡¯ me that!¡± Drew irishly shouted back, beginning to tap his foot on the floor impatiently.

    <hr>

    Nove and Lyman walked through the woods silently, the rain had now parted, leaving a nice fresh, but damp scent in the air. Birds chirped, fluttering from branch to branch, hunting for any stray worms that were out after the rainfall.

    The Halicanth stayed quiet. Leepsky occasionally threw an icebreaker her way to lighten the mood, but she wouldn¡¯t have any of it. Nove eventually began to drown him out, not even acknowledging his existence until they reached a road. Conveniently, there was also a plot of farmland on the opposite side of the road. It stretched outward for about a quarter of a mile until hitting another treeline. Nove had seen human farms before, and this one was no different. In fact, she knew quite a bit about the human world, despite their isolation from humanity.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Her tribe''s people would often attack human encampments in the jungle. ¡®The Slicers¡¯ they called them, they¡¯d just come here for wood and take down a large part of the forest before packing up and leaving. But, often they¡¯d die before doing so, even more often they¡¯d die in their sleep. If there was anything that Halicanth were good at, it was killing things. They¡¯d do so with ruthless efficiency, and their innate control over fauna would allow them to murder hundreds and reap the rewards with little resistance. While Nove never learnt these tricks, the coffers her tribe returned with were always interesting.

    Shiny trinkets, strange foods, and books. She¡¯d learnt English from them, and learnt a lot about human society. More than her tribe, who never bothered with the paper and ink, did.

    But she¡¯d never heard how annoying the humans could be. Lyman kept talking about getting a bus fare, and asking her if she knew how farms, buses, public transportation and a plethora of other things you¡¯d teach a toddler about how they worked. She was not a fucking idiot¡­

    Either way, after they boarded a bus bound north, Nove decided to get some shut eye, despite some stares at her appearance, and surprisingly, Lyman let her. Obviously, he only did it so she¡¯d make no attempt to escape, but she didn¡¯t know that.

    When she awoke, it was to Lyman forcefully dragging her out of her seat. They were at some sort of human port. A reasonably sized one with many massive boats, and large multicolored shipping containers stacked upon each other.

    It was night, and there was a low lying bunch of clouds on the horizon, making Nove feel uneasy, it was quite eerie.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be in England by the next dawn. Whereupon you shall accompany me to my quaint office.¡± Lyman said softly. Nove realized he was talking less, odd, but hardly terrible.

    ¡°Why England?¡± Nove replied, walking beside him after they checked in to the ferry.

    ¡°Because¡­ I live there?¡± Lyman answered, confused. Nove didn¡¯t respond to it.

    They walked up a long plank to the boat. Nove looked off into the sea. Was she really this fucking stupid? To make it this far and now¡­ good lord¡­

    Too late to turn back now. And little did she know it, she¡¯d not ever go back. Everything would change.

    <hr>

    Leepsky returned with a ring of keys. Not just a couple keys though, there were around a hundred on one ring, and all of them were very different from one another. Some were bronze, silver, brass, all different shapes too, some looked straight out of some fantasy world. They jangled about as he brought them over to the door, frowning.

    Hesitantly, he picked one almost instantly, as if he knew what each one did, it was silver and bulky, like the door. Slotting the key into the hole, he peered back at Drew and Julia, one much more anxious to get in than the other.

    But despite what Lyman currently thought, he had no choice but to let them in, and hope he could rectify what was to come.

    He unlocked it, and the door swung open.

    Inside, a dark room, but when the lights automatically flared to life, the truth became obvious.

    ¡°Well Lyman, I didn¡¯t think you were this sick, but I guess I am wrong¡­¡± Drew said, smiling as he put an arm around his back, soaking it in.

    ¡°Is that an otter?¡± Julia stuttered, staring at the four cryostasis pods lining the back wall, two filled, two empty.

    ¡°They aren¡¯t dead, this is the secret of the program. They submitted themselves willingly, I can assure you.¡± Lyman said, showing them inside.

    Two bodies were inside the pods. One of a brown otter in what looked to be a nightgown with fish and crabs polka dotted over the outfit and a mustache below his black nose. His face held a frightened expression, his eyebrows rough and old, greying a little, and he had signs of incoming wrinkles.

    The other was a pale green creature with large pointy orange-inside ears on either side of her equally pointy head. Her hair was black and fairly unkempt, and she looked fairly slender, as her ragged underwear hardly stayed on, and wasn¡¯t held close to her body. Good fashion sense.

    ¡°What is this?¡± asked Julia with unease, peering at Lyman frightenedly.

    ¡°Julia, dear, it would be best if you wait in my office and show no malintent. Thank you.¡± the apparently illegal therapist said to her in a kind but intentionally soulless voice.

    ¡°I¡­ want to see what this is, though¡­¡± she asked. No longer afraid, more confused after remembering she had an agent next to her.

    ¡°Well then, let me explain the program a little better, and if you tell my competitors about this before it¡¯s release, I¡¯ll-¡± Leepsky paused, realizing Drew¡¯s cold, yet utterly devious glare in his direction.

    ¡°Ahem¡­¡± He continued, pointing to the chambers like he was selling a car as he walked to the corner of the room, not breaking eye contact. There, a large velvet curtain hid something. ¡°These chambers I¡¯m using to hold the patients in a short term stasis until we are ready for their procedure, with this.¡± he smiled, sweeping away the curtain with a flourish.

    Oh boy¡­ magical item time.

    So, you¡¯ve seen a vacuum, right? I¡¯m sure you have if you live inside a house, or else you must be a slob. Or homeless, like Julia, and for that I am sorry and hope you do find a house soon.

    Where was I? Oh yes, vacuum. Well think of that, but much bigger, big enough to fit a human inside. It had a tube leading up to a sci-fi inspired main terminal which was ten times more neon than it had any right to be.

    ¡°This is the S.U.C.C.!¡± Lyman exclaimed, marveling at his creation.

    ¡°Is that an acronym or something?¡± Julia asked innocently.

    ¡°No. It¡¯s the S.U.C.C. Or the Suck for short.¡± the therapist deadpanned.

    ¡°You literally said the same provocative word twice.¡± Drew moaned. Oh great now I¡¯m doing it.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s on the nose, and I do think that is best, because it¡¯s such a complicated machine, it could use some simplicity.¡± Lyman tried to follow through. ¡°But not only does it suck, but-¡±

    ¡°It can blow?¡± Drew snickered.

    ¡°NO! It can fix your mental problems though!¡± shouted Lyman, running over to the controls.

    ¡°Excuse me Lyman, but why the FUCK did you build a giant ass vacuum that fixes mental problems?¡± the agent asked. Julia was starting to get the vibe Drew knew Lyman a little better than he was letting on, odd¡­

    ¡°It came to me in a dream¡­¡± he replied whimsically, fanning his hands outward. Drew remained enthused, but unimpressed at the whole thing Lyman had going here.

    ¡°Basically, people get sucked inside and then it spits them out good as new up in the head. Don¡¯t ask about the semantics.¡± Leepsky continued.

    ¡°You know, I¡¯m thinkin¡¯ I will, jackass. Is it ethical? If you¡¯re doin¡¯ CRISPR or gene editin¡¯ shit, I¡¯m fuckin¡¯ you up here and now.¡± Drew said angrily, he became a lot more irish when pissed off, apparently.

    ¡°Gene editing is sooooo 2019¡­ I have better methods which are state of the art and infinitely better than last year¡¯s fads.¡± grinned Lyman, clearly in his own little world of amusement.

    ¡°And those methods are?¡± the agent said, stepping forward to take a look at the machination.

    ¡°No you don¡¯t!¡± gasped the therapist.

    ¡°I have a search warrant, Lyman.¡± he replied, keeping his path.

    ¡°Can I see it?¡± was something that should have left Lyman¡¯s mouth before he decided to pull out his pistol and shoot Drew in his leg, narrowly missing his kneecap. He fell to the floor and Lyman turned on the machine, aiming the vacuum directly onto Drew, it instantly began to create wind currents which rusted papers on a desk yonder, and leaves on the potted plant. With resistance, he was slurped into the S.U.C.C.

    Julia watched in horror, she wanted to run, but something held her in place¡­

    ¡°Sorry to make you watch that, dearie. He¡¯s gone now.¡± Lyman said, turning off the suction and staring at the mess on the carpet in disgust. ¡°God, why do people have to bleed on the fabrics¡­¡± He ignored what he¡¯d done and immediately walked over to Julia.

    ¡°Now then, how about we fix that head of yours, hmm?¡± Lyman smiled, then turning to the cryostasis capsules and unlocking them.

    There would be a lot more S.U.C.C.-ing in this room within the next two minutes.

    Around that time later, Lyman sat in a comfy seat as he waited for Nove¡¯s body to thaw a little. The cryostasis was a bit messy, but despite the clunkiness, it hadn¡¯t failed him yet.

    Until now, at least. But not in the way he thought it would.

    Nove began to show signs of life, much earlier than anticipated. He thought she was warm blooded, but maybe not? That may be messing with it.

    Slowly Lyman got up and approached the groggy Nove, ready to drag her into the S.U.C.C.

    But then, she opened her eyes. Her orange bloodshot pupils peered into his frightened gaze for only a moment, only a mere moment¡­ before he booked it over to the controls, leaping over her.

    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± she exclaimed, turning to Lyman as the suction turned on.

    ¡°Sorry Halicanth, but I personally don¡¯t feel like-¡± but he said nothing else. Nove grabbed him in her struggle, pulling him in with her, gobbled up by the mysterious device.

    And over the following hours, all five of them would indeed leave the building. At least their bodies would, but their consciousness and very soul wouldn¡¯t be seen back here for a long, long time¡­

    <hr>

    April 5th, 2021, 6:46 AM: Just Outside Ravensdale, Washington State

    The early morning hours were eclipsing the night with small, delicate rays of sun passing through the morning fog. It was beautiful to a young man, who walked through the forest to his job as a park ranger. He was heading up to his watchtower, but first was making some rounds through the forest. But little did he know, he¡¯d find some unconscious bodies lying in a pile in the middle of the woods within the next five minutes.

    And little did he know he¡¯d just been roped into their scheme.

 Chapter 1 - Im Not Your Friend

    Many people hated Lyman Leepsky over the years. Lyman was simply a guy who¡¯d been to many places, met many faces, and most of those faces hated him. He was a bringer of sorrow and deceit. A straight up cheat and a liar.

    But certainly he¡¯d not gone public with this hate. The people he messed with were selected intentionally so he¡¯d not be found out. He was crafty, and had been for a while.

    He used every opportunity, every person, and made sure he could harvest as much good will as possible. Good will that could be turned into gains, he¡¯d made many favors in his days, Quid Pro Quo.

    Seemingly overnight however, he had to make a move to save himself, and he called it ¡®The Paradise Program¡¯. He certainly wasn¡¯t in paradise as the name suggested right now.

    Lyman awoke among the heap of people he¡¯d ripped from their lives. Groggy, lightheaded, dizzy, and with blurred vision. He was lying on something wet¡­

    Nove.

    ¡°Disgusting creature¡­¡± he thought to himself, still not fully grasping the situation.

    But it hit him quite quickly.

    ¡°Lyman¡­ Lyman Leepsky¡­ what in the ever loving fuck have you done this time?¡± said a voice from above. As if he was waking up in the morning, late for school, Lyman sneered and winced at Drew, whose words he couldn¡¯t fully make sense of until he saw the changeling¡¯s face.

    ¡°Well, uhm¡­ Drew, could you save the hostility?¡± the therapist mumbled, coming to his senses and leaving the floor. The floor in question was dirt, the kind that annoyingly sticks to your clothes, like a wannabe mud, but less sloppy.

    They were in a forest, fog and morning dew shading the ground in a spooky atmosphere. The trees stood out, and the warmth of the sun caught Lyman on the back of his neck.

    ¡°Yeah, sure. Sorry for how I acted before.¡± Drew sighed, sweeping his ginger friz from his forehead. The gel was old and it was frazzled again, and itching him to a point of annoyance, not to mention the bugs.

    ¡°Excuse me, did I hear an apology slip out like a fart?¡± Lyman tauntingly asked in slight awe.

    ¡°Yes, breathe it in...¡± the agent huffed, rolling his eyes and wiping off his brown trench coat from the dirt just the same as Lyman did, just with a less disgusted face. Someone obviously cared more about their clothes than the other. ¡°Where are we, Leepsky?¡± he asked.

    Lyman looked up at him, and then around. ¡°No clue, trickster¡­ not a clue¡­¡± he muttered.

    ¡°Look, I honestly don¡¯t care about what the others think of you, and I wasn¡¯t coming there to that shop for business¡­ it was purely a personal matter. Between us. But while we both have blood on our hands, we probably should come together to fix this. Then we can go our separate ways.¡± Drew explained with a serious face.

    ¡°I do so agree, help could be desired, and in a time like this, a truce must be made. But this doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re even.¡± said Lyman, tying his ragged brown hair up in a ponytail.

    He¡¯d been taunted for it before. Male ponytails are strange to others, apparently, but Lyman did it as a ¡®fuck you¡¯ to the general public. Not often mind you, only when he saw the world against him. Only when he was at great odds.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t take you for the¡­ type to-¡± Drew began, giving Lyman an odd look out of the mild shock of seeing this new habit of his friend¡¯s.

    ¡°The others, could you check on them? Your outfit is expendable.¡± Lyman piped up, changing the subject.

    Drew sighed and knelt down in the not-mud, examining the three people on the ground. ¡°Since when did you enjoy fashion?¡±

    ¡°Since fairly recently. Those commercials are demanding that I wear something flashy and vibrant to get the viewers attention, I suppose I just enjoyed it.¡± Lyman said without his usual flare. He¡¯d dropped it with nobody he wanted to impress in the surrounding area, although he did enjoy speaking vibrantly too, it calmed him.

    ¡°How did you even set up shops ¡®all across the world¡¯, aren¡¯t you opposed to working with anyone long term?¡± Drew asked, checking pulses.

    ¡°All the better that we find out what happened and why we¡¯ve all been drugged and thrown into a forest.¡± Lyman answered with a non-answer.

    ¡°I am still with the MI6, and I do need to come back with an answer. Speaking of, you have a phone? In case we need to call the ambulance.¡±

    ¡°Look at the nature spirit, asking for technological assistance... You¡¯ve broken house, it seems, Irazen. And yes, in fact, I do own a phone.¡± Lyman smirked upon using the changeling¡¯s true name. Watching Drew grovel and ask for his assistance, which he did provide, was quite entertaining.

    He revealed from his pocket a pink phone with kitty ears and a small tail emerging from beside the charging port, his smile dropped. ¡°Say anything about this to any of them and I¡¯ll¡­¡±

    ¡°Do what?¡± Drew grinned, standing up.

    ¡°Leave you in this damn forest.¡± Leepsky grinned back, like a cheshire cat finally fooling his victim. Drew then noticed the phone case was meant to resemble that same cat.

    ¡°Noted, I suppose I¡¯ll have to work for my damn truce then.¡± he said.

    ¡°Well, the GPS has no idea where the hell we are¡­¡± Lyman said, investigating the map app. ¡°It thinks we¡¯re on Mars.¡±

    ¡°Definitely not in Kansas anymore.¡± Drew said, eyeing the phone.

    ¡°Wrong Fairytale.¡± the snazzy man replied, shaking his head. ¡°I thought you were a nature spirit, you should know these things¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey, I didn¡¯t say anythin¡¯ before, but I¡¯m still a human.¡±

    ¡°You were a human, you turned into a spirit, and now you wanna turn back.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re too deep in your own degeneracy to be questionin¡¯ my wants an¡¯ desires.¡±

    ¡°HEY!¡± a voice shouted over the tension¡­ and it wasn¡¯t one either of them knew. The therapist and the agent both turned with surprise to the source of the voice...

    ¡°Hello, I know we do look like we are burying a teenager, child, and an otter¡¯s corpses in the middle of the woods, but I have an extremely good explanation that will sort all of this out, ranger.¡± Lyman said with a fake smile through the fog to the man in the mist. He began to sweat again.

    <hr>

    Vanis didn¡¯t like her uncle all too much anyway, but leaving it like this with him even made her a bit depressed.

    She sat in the sunroom, despite the rain pouring in on the windows, lightly tapping the glass and slowly driving her crazy until she got up out of the chair in a tizzy.

    As she approached the door, she was met with Archibald. The rabbit had a forlorn face and a tray with her breakfast in hand.

    ¡°Thanks Archie.¡± she said. She genuinely liked him and considered him a good servant, her uncle probably saw the same, which is why Stygian entrusted him to be his right hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a while, Miss Vanis, I apologize for the terrible timing with your arrival. I¡¯m doing everything in my power to find Master Stygian.¡± Archibald said, setting the peanut butter and blueberry jam sandwich onto a side table.

    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡± Vanis replied, feeling mutually responsible for his disappearance.

    ¡°I don¡¯t feel ready to put another of the Thornswoggle family into danger. But, you can help here in the mansion.¡± the butler said, walking toward the door, but not fully through it.

    ¡°I have made my own family do my bidding, I¡¯m sure I can lead some sort of assault team or-¡± she said recklessly. Archibald shook his head in denial.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°There is no way I am letting you do that, Vanis. You are the acting princess of the household and-¡±

    ¡°Princess?¡± Vanis interrupted, her face turning smug. ¡°And what does that imply?¡± Archibald frowned, knowing he¡¯d have to say the truth.

    ¡°It means you are the highest ranking Mammalian in this household, and you can tell the servants what to do.¡± he sighed, forced to comply.

    ¡°Mmm, me likey! Are there any limits?¡± Vanis drooled at the thought, her lifelong dream becoming real. Back at home, she¡¯d been able to get what she¡¯d wanted from her family, at least when they were around. But now with a battalion of butlers, she¡¯d have anything done she wanted at her beck and call.

    ¡°The servants here have a pay grade. Stygian keeps their wages reasonable to the jobs that they do, but obviously they wouldn¡¯t do anything you asked.¡± explained the butler begrudgingly. He always told the truth to the nobles, no matter how bad it made him look.

    ¡°Oh, I love you Archibald! I see why uncle chose you now.¡± Vanis said, ready to hug the white rabbit, who held back, but failed anyway and was forced into the embrace.

    ¡°Just please don¡¯t do anything unwise¡­ Your mother has asked me to report back to her if you are getting into any trouble, so don¡¯t make me have to do that, Vanis.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Vanis huffed dismissively, she now looked up at the rain, daydreaming of the possibilities.

    <hr>

    Lyman and Drew decided to go into the man¡¯s ranger tower, willingly of course, each lifting an unconscious body in hand. The ranger brought Stygian, who awoke halfway up the stairs, giving the man a heart attack with the fact the otter could speak.

    ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m calling the police¡­ actually, I might call the government, or Area 51. I don¡¯t want any trouble with whatever this is, thank you.¡± the man stuttered.

    ¡°Yes! Call the police, good sir! Where in the dickens did this madman take us to? Why am I covered in dirt and nettles?¡± Stygian proclaimed, ushering the man to dial the emergency number.

    ¡°That won''t be necessary.¡± Leepsky said calmly, ripping the ranger¡¯s walkie talkie from his hand and chucking it off the tower deadpan. ¡°These are just mutant lab experiments which we are burying. The government doesn¡¯t like loose ends. Which is why, after we take a breather here, you¡¯ll be swan diving off this tower to your death.¡± he gestured to the sixty foot plus gap of air between the top of the watchtower and the dirt.

    ¡°I can¡¯t do that!¡± the man shuddered in fear.

    ¡°What the FUCK is going on?¡± Nove growled, awake again.

    ¡°Ah, well, we have someone to demonstrate this method of suicide. Nove, would you mind leaping to your death? Edgy teens do it all the time.¡± Lyman continued in symphony with an utterly heinous comment.

    ¡°I¡¯m twenty fucking three, and you¡¯ll have to make me, dickface!¡±

    ¡°I should wash your mouth out with soap, Halicanth!¡± Stygian said, knowing what Nove was.

    ¡°Yeah, she swears quite a bit¡­ Where are we, Mr. Leepsky?¡± Julia asked roughly, she¡¯d come out from her portal induced coma quite quickly.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m trying to figure that out myself, Julie Dear¡­¡± the therapist asked the air.

    ¡°Do you have a phone? I hear those have a map in them.¡± the crystal girl asked Lyman.

    ¡°Okay boomer.¡± Drew chortled immaturely.

    ¡°What?¡± Julia asked, puzzled, to the agent¡¯s obvious enjoyment in his foolery.

    ¡°Well, the gang¡¯s all here. And we have a guest star, too. A cameo from¡­ what¡¯s your name kid?¡± Lyman asked, leaning into the park ranger¡¯s ear.

    ¡°Cristobal¡­¡± the man replied, still confused beyond all compare.

    ¡°Crazy Chris! Quite the nice hat you¡¯ve got there, Chris!¡± Lyman piped up, introducing him as if he were the main event of tonight. He was a medium built man in a green rangers uniform, with little buttons, a toolbelt with a badge and radio, and a brown hardy-looking backpack. He was latino and had curly, but short black hair, covered by a wide brim hat the same color as his uniform. He almost looked like the spitting image of a prime park ranger, but also so boring he¡¯d get lost in a crowd.

    ¡°Excuse me, who are you¡­ and what kind of magic is this?¡± Cristobal asked, now more scared than anything. Lyman took offence.

    ¡°Good lord what rock have you been under? You fucking ingrate, you¡¯re in the presence of Lyman Leepsky, the greatest human in history!¡± he announced, and he believed it.

    ¡°What is the green one wearing, makeup or something?¡± the ranger asked, looking toward Nove.

    ¡°That¡¯s a Halicanth. She won¡¯t hurt you, but she¡¯ll whine about wanting to.¡± Leepsky grazed passive aggressively. Nove kept her mouth shut though, she wasn¡¯t stupid enough to fall into Lyman¡¯s verbal trap.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me you are just burying radioactive mutants, and now you¡¯re telling me you¡¯ve got magical creatures? Something is not adding up, ringmaster.¡± Cristobal ruffled, closing in on the well dressed therapist¡¯s gaze.

    ¡°Good. That means I am definitely doing my job well. Another victory for Lyman Leepsky! Now, do you have any idea where we are?¡±

    ¡°Earth? Where the hell are you from?¡±

    ¡°Leave the questions till after the performance. Now, more specific if you don¡¯t mind, my good officer!¡±

    ¡°Ravensdale, Washington¡­ This is the national park.¡± Cristobal explained, still scared and confused.

    ¡°And¡­ you¡¯ve never heard of magic?¡± Lyman asked, beginning to frown.

    ¡°Um, yeah¡­ are you crazy? You¡¯re saying it¡¯s real?¡±

    With a depressed look, Lyman turned around and gave a fake smile to the group as he began to speak. ¡°Well, there¡¯s your answer. We¡¯re in an alternate universe. No magic, nothing but humans, and in the middle of some winky dink town.¡±

    ¡°This is all your fault!¡± screamed Nove, looking ready to kill Lyman.

    ¡°Gosh, what¡¯s the-¡±

    ¡°YOU LIED TO ME!¡± she continued, drowning out Lyman. She swiped his collar and pulled his head so close he could smell her breath, which was nasty.

    ¡°She¡¯s quite a loose cannon¡­¡± Stygian whispered to Julia, stepping away from the chaos.¡°I¡¯m Stygian, Little Miss. And who are you?¡± he smiled, the pair moving into a corner of the room, not really helping silence Nove¡¯s continued yelling.

    ¡°Julia. Are you a mammalian?¡± she asked, knowing the answer, but checking to be sure. She¡¯d prefer not to accidentally offend one of the people she was stuck here with.

    ¡°Yes¡­ My people call me a noble, but I feel like a failure right now.¡± he sighed, only now realizing that he wasn¡¯t going to be able to find who killed his son. ¡°My only child¡­ he was assassinated last night, and¡­¡± Stygian couldn¡¯t bear to continue.

    ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ I don¡¯t know if I can help though, I¡¯ve got a bunch of issues myself.¡±

    ¡°We all do, that¡¯s why he brought us here.¡± Drew approached, overhearing them over Nove rambling something about elephants. How she even got there will remain a mystery.

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± Stygian frowned.

    ¡°Lyman wanted all of us because we all apparently have something wrong deep inside. His therapy program proved it, by inviting in those who are unwell in the mind. Whatever he has planned now, or whether this was a mistake at all, is beyond my mind, but fuckin¡¯ ¡®ell I¡¯ll get to the bottom of it!¡±

    ¡°You know him?¡± Julia asked, remembering her doubts about the topic.

    ¡°Only what I saw in the case file.¡± Drew replied, tilting his head in innocence. ¡°I¡¯m Drew Idley, for future knowledge. I¡¯ve got ¡®ta feelin¡¯ were gonna be sein¡¯ each other quite a bit from now on.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Stygian agreed.

 Chapter 2 - Cabin Fever

    ¡°If these readings are correct¡­ I believe we have a bit of an issue, assistant. I¡¯ll need you to investigate.¡± said a man¡¯s voice, stark, cold, commanding. He rose from his chair in front of a cloud of smoke, it emerged from a crystalline pool of swirling water, rising into the air and projecting a map through the mist.

    He saw disobedience as the man didn¡¯t even bat an eye at his announcement. The targeted listener wasn¡¯t in the room, an error on his part for not seeing this before speaking.

    The man cast a spell, shifting his hands in strange shapes until a gust of wind blew the mist away. The pool stopped swirling, and of course, the map vanished too. The water seemed to drain away as the indentation in the floor rose back up and looked simply like a stone pattern on the already stoney floor of the dim room.

    The man walked out of his study, random books and tomes lining the walls, crystals and ornaments hanging from the ceiling, and into a small corridor. A three way fork, straight ahead stairs, to the left a glow, and he chose to go to the right.

    As he continued, the sound of welding grew louder coming from a wooden door reminiscent you¡¯d find in a castle or a mansion¡¯s wine cellar.

    He swung open the door and looked at his assistant, who took off his welding mask as he entered.

    The room was small, it only had some bare essentials. A bed, mini fridge, and a TV with a couple of DVD¡¯s next to a TV box that definitely got used more often. On a bedside table, a couple of books and an empty beer bottle.

    On the other side of the room, the man sat in a small chair at a workstation full of tiny metal parts and various little bits of tech. Sprockets, circuit boards, metal framing, and wires. The man was a little overweight, and wore a working class jumpsuit meant for mechanics, although, sprawled across the bed was a black suit and tie, he¡¯d changed clothes.

    ¡°Grand Quetzal.¡± he smiles, taking off the mask entirely and ripping off his oil soaked gloves. ¡°Needed anything, boss?¡±

    ¡°Your contributions indeed succeed the other scoundrels in my service.¡± the Grand Quetzal says in response. ¡°I require more.¡±

    ¡°How can I assist?¡± he asks, coming to his feet.

    ¡°I¡¯ve detected interdimensional activity from in town, I¡¯ll need you to investigate.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to make it quick, I was supposed to get home within thirty minute, and my family might suspect something is off. But, yeah, just tell me where it is and I¡¯ll suss it out.¡± the man explained.

    ¡°Up in the woods, near Guard Tower 134. Make haste if you wish your personal time.¡±

    ¡°As instructed, sir.¡±

    The Grand Quetzal shut the door behind him, expecting perfection. Every fine error could be ironed out easily. He didn¡¯t have the time for mistakes.

    <hr>

    About a miserable hour later, the group was still up in Cristobal¡¯s tower discussing their options to move forward. Stygian had begun to snap, shouting at Lyman about his kidnapping and the fact he¡¯d probably killed his son too.

    Obviously Lyman probably hadn¡¯t done such a thing. Probably.

    Drew was backing Lyman, he was busily trying to figure out where they could get something to eat. And looking at Stygian¡¯s hunching, unfit body, he¡¯d probably be hangry within the hour, if this wasn¡¯t already his stomach talking.

    Julia was quietly trying to get her two cents in. Unlike Stygian, she was trying to talk a little more civilized than Stygian currently was. Odd, given how Stygian¡¯s long life had been leagues more civilized than hers.

    Nove was over her tantrum. She was currently having an existential crisis in the corner realizing she¡¯d failed her father and her family. She¡¯d not admit it to anybody though.

    And Cristobal was tied to a chair, frantically looking for a way to escape. It then hit him he had duties that hadn¡¯t been completed for over an hour and he¡¯d just been caught up in the chaos. Although, he also realized, if the other rangers noticed he was missing due to his jobs being unfinished, this would be the first place they¡¯d search.

    And another although, unfortunately for him, he hardly spoke to them¡­ today would probably feel like a normal Friday to them¡­ No matter. His weekend fill in would be in tomorrow morning, but would he last that long?

    ¡°SHUT THE FUCK UP, OTTERFOLK!¡± Drew shouted, turned around and holding out his gun threateningly.

    ¡°Welp. He¡¯s gonna shoot him.¡± Nove sighed, looking up from her knees. This feels like a good time to mention Lyman had only supplied her with basic undergarments after their encounter in the woods. The whole bus ride, boat trip, and past hours had been pseudo-naked and she was starting to realize why humans wear so much clothing. It may have been Spring, but it was still freezing outside and she was getting goosebumps, which Halicanth could get apparently.

    She¡¯d also gotten stares, but she was pretty sure it was her race more than creeps. But it was mostly the cold that pissed her off and made the pain doubly painful.

    Awkwardness aside, she kinda wanted to rip that gun out of Drew¡¯s hands and put a bullet in Lyman, but remembered he may be the only one that knew how to go back.

    ¡°The only way we¡¯re getting out of here is if all of us get along!¡± Julia yelled, finally letting it out.

    ¡°She¡¯s right. I wish you¡¯d stop yelling at me.¡± Lyman huffed, glaring at Stygian.

    ¡°No, he should keep shouting at you. You kidnapped him.¡± Drew added, turning back to Lyman¡¯s now caseless phone. He smiled remembering the embarrassing casing was still inside his pocket, removed temporarily.

    ¡°Hey, are you the type of person that gives your prisoners food, or...?¡± Cristobal spoke up.

    ¡°You¡¯re only a prisoner because you tried ta gonna call the cops on us, ayun.¡± Drew replied, still trying to get his plans ready.

    ¡°Only because I thought you were killing people in the woods. But, food?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m doin¡¯ that asswipe, I really want to kill you, so don¡¯t test my fockin patience! Have some of your own, why don¡¯t ya?¡± Drew scowled to him, honestly the intensity in his words got his point across well enough.

    Nobody talked for around a minute before Drew gave in. ¡°Ya¡­ know any eateries? This phone is fucked.¡± Drew swore in shame.

    ¡°Sure. I know a place. But they probably won¡¯t take kindly to a bunch of fairy tale creatures walking into their place.¡± Cristobal smirked, Drew coming to untie him.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll go alone witch ya. Julia, take my gun. You seem ta be the most level ¡®ead here. Make sure Lyman doesn¡¯t try anything.¡±

    ¡°And what¡­ I¡¯m¡­ supposed to shoot him?¡± Julia asked, fearfully taking the black device of death.

    ¡°If he¡¯s smart, you won¡¯t ¡®ave to.¡± Drew replied. He and Cristobal walked to the door, leaving Julia in a panicked state.

    <hr>

    ¡°So¡­ you primitive human¡­ what¡¯s it like livin¡¯ in this shithole town a¡¯ yours?¡± Drew asked, driving the car while Cristobal sat in the passenger seat.

    ¡°You are speaking as if you aren¡¯t human¡­¡± he replied, looking out at the pine trees, their nettles impervious to the harsh winter that had since passed.

    ¡°I¡¯m not. But I can change my form to look like one if I want. I¡¯m a changeling.¡± Drew sighed, focused on the road. He had to admit he missed the forest, city life bored him. The colors of the marcescent and deciduous trees with the morning light reflecting off their foliage, it reminded him what a nature geek he¡¯d been. Still was... Although, his time as an agent kept him away from the vast outdoors. A part of him hoped that they¡¯d be stuck here. He had Lyman now, he¡¯d gotten what else he needed from his job which shan¡¯t be spoken of just yet. He was free, and ready to start life anew. Back in the forest playing his pranks. However, he felt too old to be doing that now¡­ too large to even climb a tree.

    But could an immortal trickster spirit become old? Perhaps he wasn¡¯t as immortal as they told him. Perhaps age would eventually begin to set in. Perhaps he wasn¡¯t even immortal, but simply slowed in aging. After all, back in those days, before the transformation, he was shorter, faster, he had more stamina and less body hairs. He was growing, wasn¡¯t he?

    He couldn¡¯t admit it, not even to himself.

    ¡°What¡¯s it like, as a changeling?¡± Cristobal asked, curious. ¡°Where did you even come from¡­ your world?¡±

    ¡°From what I¡¯m seein¡¯, there are glaring parallels to yours. It¡¯s pretty decent¡­ I¡¯d say the only difference I¡¯ve seen so far is the lack of magic. But as a changeling, I¡¯m not gonna say more. We keep our secrets close ta¡¯ da chest, ayun?¡± Drew replied.

    ¡°Sure¡­ but Drew is an odd name, is that like a disguise or something? I¡¯ve read folklore about your kind, and they usually have aliases. Oh, up here by the way.¡± the park ranger signaled.

    ¡°No. It¡¯s my birth name, but it¡¯s grown on me. My changeling name is a mouthful.¡± the changeling sighed, turning off and onto a small side street into a quaint town at the forest¡¯s edge.

    ¡°This is Ravensdale. Not my hometown, but it¡¯s my home now.¡± Cristobal said, showing the rustic 1900¡¯s American architecture in all its¡­ well, it wasn¡¯t super glorious or anything. But it definitely packed a big charm and reminded Drew of apple pie, he¡¯d hardly ever even been to America in his world, but he knew something about cheeseburgers and apple pie being staples of catering there.

    ¡°Well, I have to say it¡¯s not terrible.¡± Drew said, looking at a brown brick building which looked to be a cinema. He knew that because the giant sign which read ¡®Cinema¡¯ on the front and the list of movie names he hadn¡¯t heard of plastered on the front. Peak comedy.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that owes a thank you¡­ Here, the Diner is just ahead. By the way, I¡¯m not really sure if I¡¯m dreaming or not.¡± Cristobal said, pointing to a chrome plated restaurant with a lot of class. It looked like nostalgia incarnate. The red booths, the black and white tiled floors, the owners vintage car parked outside the door, this place was owned by someone very fond of the 60¡¯s it seemed. The neon sign was illuminated in the daylight, it read ¡°McConra Diner¡±.

    ¡°And, whatcha mean by ¡®this isn¡¯t your hometown¡¯? What place that I haven¡¯t heard of do ya hail from, ayun?¡± Drew asked.

    ¡°Buenos Ares, down in Argentina.¡± Cristobal said with a hint of pride as they exited the car, talking over the roof. Drew gave him a nod and they walked to the shiny door.

    Upon coming inside, a man who Drew presumed to be the owner gave the ranger a hearty wave. He was an overweight blond man with black rimmed glasses in his thirties. He wore a red and white themed restaurant workers uniform and apron.

    ¡°Cristobal, funny seeing you here. Shouldn¡¯t you be at work?¡± the man asked, approaching them. His voice was quite direct, but also a tad greasy and intellectual.

    ¡°Just drove back when Drew here showed up in the middle of the woods. His car broke down and I drove him back to get a meal while we waited for the tow.¡±

    ¡°Wish I had a heart like that. Anyway, welcome to Ravensdale, Drew. I am Bentley McConra, but everyone calls me Ben.¡±

    ¡°Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. McConra. I¡¯m not stayin¡¯ in town long, or maybe I am¡­ I¡¯ve found myself short on¡­ uh, anythin¡¯...¡± Drew mumbled irishly.

    ¡°Well, anyone with a nice suit and trench coat can stay in this town as long as they want for all I care. Now, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re hungry, why else would you be here?¡± he asked, purveying the breakfast patronage today to see if they needed anything. There weren¡¯t many people in today. Drew counted maybe seven, including a family of three, all enjoying meals.

    ¡°I take it you like this thematic, right?¡± Drew asked, looking at the aesthetics as Ben showed him to the counter. There he gazed up at the menu, looking at the sandwiches, shakes, and breakfast options available. This guy had quite a budget for a restaurant like this, all decked out. Or maybe he was gouging prices or something money money something. Drew didn¡¯t know what the humans did these days.

    ¡°I¡¯m a bit of a 60¡¯s fan if it didn¡¯t hit you in the face. I used to work making cars with my old man when I was a teen. I loved the style and the charisma in them. But my love extends beyond automobiles of this type.¡± he said, going behind the counter to serve him.

    ¡°Ben, you talk about yourself way too much.¡± Cristobal sighed, turning a chair around and sitting in it backward as he waited for Drew to order.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ you¡¯re right. What¡¯ll it be?¡± Ben said.

    ¡°Five grilled cheeses to go. One vanilla shake.¡± the agent requested. The owner''s face turned.

    ¡°Five?¡±

    ¡°Guess I forgot to mention my friends.¡±

    ¡°Eh, shouldn¡¯t complain about more money. Haha!¡± he chuckled, writing the order down and clipping it to the clothesline of orders above the kitchen¡¯s porthole. A young blonde woman inside the workspace turned, nodded, and went back to her work chopping onions and putting them into an omlet.

    ¡°Your daughter as your chef. Smart. Always wanted to have a kid. Only to do my chores for me.¡± Drew snickered, Ben following suit.

    ¡°How¡¯d you know Silla was my daughter?¡± Ben asked, leaning on the counter.

    ¡°I¡¯m a people person. I¡¯m MI6, if you know what that is.¡± Drew replied, peering back at Cristobal, who was still sitting, fidgeting a bit in boredom.

    ¡°Yeah, British intelligence. Why are you here in the US? Some sort of homicide I¡¯ve been out of the loop on?¡± the waiter asked.

    ¡°Ah, actually a little worse than that. But... can¡¯t say much more than the fact there¡¯s been a kidnapping. I¡¯m hunting the culprit. Might actually stay in town a while since I heard the villain is in the area, ayun.¡± Drew lied. He was pretty good at making up a large fake story that¡¯d fit his needs at later dates. The group probably could stay here for the time being. Worst case scenario, he could just skip town and vanish if they were catching on.

    At least, that¡¯s the worst case he could envision. This entire town would be the epicenter of something far worse soon.

 Chapter 3 - Darkness in Daylight

    ¡°Lyman? What do you desire the most?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t really thought about that, to be frank¡­ I suppose I¡¯m good where I am right now.¡±

    ¡°No, but really. Everyone always wants something more.¡±

    ¡°I guess I¡¯d want nobody to endure what I did. But now that I¡¯m here, I just want to forget about that.¡±

    ¡°You still have your debts, don¡¯t forget about those. Remember who helped you and your mother out of that shithole?¡±

    ¡°Eh, when they said debts, they just meant helping a beautiful brunette with magic like that of an 8th grade science project.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t to be trifled with. And neither am I. The Mithril Court isn¡¯t a bunch of pushovers. I¡¯m starting to think you have no respect for them.¡±

    Lyman leaned in, whispering into his colleague¡¯s ear.

    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    <hr>

    Admittedly, Lyman wasn¡¯t too scared about what was going on. He suspected this device had something to do with dimensional shenanigans, but he didn¡¯t suspect the full extent of what had happened.

    Either way, he was still a little nervous, as he was in a room of mildly bloodthirsty vagrants he¡¯d just betrayed, and his plan had gone south just as he¡¯d nearly completed it after all this time.

    ¡°Lyman?¡± Julia said, walking up to him nervously. She¡¯d just come in from outside, where Nove and Stygian were sitting so as not to be near the therapist.

    ¡°What is it, Dear?¡± he asked, looking up from some maps.

    ¡°Why did you do this?¡± she questioned shyly, sitting down beside him in another chair.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you want to ask?¡± asked Lyman, surprised. ¡°I was expecting it was your turn to rag onto me.¡±

    ¡°Uh, not really. I¡¯m just here to give you some company. You look sad.¡±

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you mad?¡± Lyman asked further, tilting his head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t hold grudges against most. But¡­ the people who I do¡­ I make sure they suffer for it.¡± she whispered. She was kinda scary to Lyman all things considered. He noted it and moved on. ¡°But¡­ uh, yeah. Not you.¡±

    ¡°Well, I did this for¡­ a reason that will be revealed in the future. But don¡¯t worry dear, I have no intention of harming you, or them, despite their anger. In fact, I was trying to help you¡­ truly, I was.¡±

    ¡°Sadly, I don¡¯t trust that.¡± Julia replied quietly, shaking her head. Lyman sighed and went back to work, letting her decide to leave the room herself.

    But she wasn¡¯t gone long.

    ¡°Ummm¡­ Lyman, could you look at this?¡± she asked, a little urgently, reentering. Lyman took a little bit, but he stood up after a moment and walked with her to the balcony of the watchtower.

    Stygian and Nove were both looking over the banister at something moving below them. A figure, but it wasn¡¯t moving humanly. It was more of an amorphous shape of darkness posing as a human, darting through the woods.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Stygian said for the group. Lyman suspected something, wanted to speak, but then stopped himself.

    ¡°Whatever it is, that shit is getting near to the tower.¡± Nove grumbled, feeling a bit uneasy.

    It reached the bottom of the wooden stairs, standing still for a moment, it looked like a humanoid figure, albeit distorted at the edges. It looked like static on a television brought to life. Like somebody turned this figure¡¯s skin into it. It brought a hand up, making sure they could peer into what could be called its ¡®eyes¡¯. It gave them a slow wave as it began to vibrate rapidly.

    ¡°Get inside. Now.¡± Lyman ordered. Nobody objected.

    Before they could even get through the door, the figure had already zipped up to the balcony. It had some sort of super speed, and it was looking straight into Lyman¡¯s eyes with its empty pits. It produced a constant static noise, except it sounded louder and more real than a broken TV, it sounded like something from the void.

    ¡°Other door, go go go!¡± Lyman huffed, ushering the others to the opposite entrance to the building. The group practically broke it down in their frantic rush as the static figure walked toward them, unable to move quickly at all times probably. Lyman quickly deduced the creature needed some sort of warm-up before moving fast. That¡¯s probably what the vibrating was.

    As they went out the other side and attempted to wrap around to the stairs on the opposite end, the figure began to vibrate inside the building, it was getting ready to move again, Lyman thought with fear, looking through the window as they ran.

    Stygian nearly fell straight off the tower with fright as the figure zipped right in front of them, making an electrical sound that sounded ear piercing compared to its constant static noises, which were already pretty noisy.

    But the creature just stood there, waiting for one of them to make a move. They were in a standoff.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Stygian gasped, wishing he had a weapon.

    ¡°We jump.¡± Lyman said, not moving an inch. Nove, standing the closest to the banister, took a glance over the edge. There were around forty feet between them and the ground, and it was a drop onto the concrete base of the tower if they didn¡¯t clear the gap. No way they¡¯d not break their legs from the fall, forget running from Static Man after they land.

    ¡°Got any better ideas, asshole?¡± the Halicanth asked aggressively.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not interested in fighting this fellow.¡± Lyman said with doubt, the figure still standing there. Why it wasn¡¯t striking was beyond them. It was quite awkward.

    ¡°We¡¯re agreeing it¡¯s male now?¡± Stygian rhetorically polled.

    ¡°A Sycanthe couldn¡¯t survive that¡­ the only way we¡¯re getting out is through him.¡± Julia shuddered.

    Static Man took a step forward, and straightened his posture, the four misfits leaping backward in surprise. His form began to vibrate again, he looked different though, unlike his previous charging for speed.

    It began to speak.

    ¡°Who is out there?¡± a woman''s voice said. It sounded like it was coming from a speaker. Like the voice wasn¡¯t really there.

    ¡°Oh, I suppose it¡¯s just a frightened young lady.¡± Stygian sighed.

    ¡°Miss Laurane, it¡¯s just me. Death.¡± said a different voice from the same body, a dark sinister tone. ¡°You must not listen to him Laurane, leave now, follow my voice.¡± said yet another voice, this time a calm middle aged man.

    The static man then stood aside, ushering them to leave.

    ¡°What the hell? Is it quoting a TV show?¡± Lyman cringed, questioning in his head if they were actually free to leave.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ creeping me out¡­¡± Nove said, holding her ground.

    ¡°It was simply tracking you, Laurane. He doesn¡¯t want you dead, but I think he wants your help.¡± the calm middle aged man said from the static creature.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably trying to talk to us. I suggest we should follow it¡¯s advice and leave with our lives.¡± Lyman deduced aloud.

    ¡°I will see you again¡­¡± the dark voice said, as the static creature began to vibrate. It zipped down the stairs, trailing out into the woods, leaving a static residue in the air from its wake.

    ¡°So¡­ this world has magic after all! Quite interesting!¡± Lyman chortled, marching back inside.

    ¡°We almost died, wacknut!¡± Nove shouted, following him and the others as they entered the small room and collapsed into the three chairs, Nove returning to the floor.

    ¡°Keyword: Almost!¡± Lyman said cheerfully, standing up, holding out a map.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Julia asked, coming closer to look at an area circled red. The area seemed a tad more rocky and there seemed to be a building there. It had the words ¡°Wang Fen Motel site¡± written there.

    ¡°A motel¡­ Can you read English?¡± Lyman said snarkily.

    ¡°Not very well¡­¡± the Scycanthe confessed, unamused at the therapist¡¯s attitude.

    ¡°And how are we gonna stay in a motel? The people in this world seem to hate magic.¡± Nove groaned.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll sneak you in obviously, kids!¡± Lyman chortled. In his defence, indeed, they were kind of following him like lost sheep.

    ¡°We may want to ask the irishman what he thinks.¡± Stygian said, unknowing Drew was actually pulling up outside as he spoke.

    ¡°Gosh, is anyone else extremely famished?¡± Lyman said, standing up. He looked out the window and saw his food arriving.

    ¡°Well, speak of the devil.¡± Stygian said with a smile as he hobbled over to the door. He¡¯d run but he was feeling a bit under the weather at the moment due the hunger and the fear. But he could definitely run. Just not on two legs.

    They all followed, coming down the stairs to meet the agent and the ranger, the former carrying two to-go bags full of warm grilled cheese sandwiches in one hand and a paper cup three quarters full of vanilla milkshake in the other.

    ¡°You better have gotten chips!¡± Lyman scowled jestingly.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I didn¡¯t, tubby.¡± Drew smirked, lightly shrugging.

    ¡°Don¡¯t insult him, he got us food.¡± instructed Julia, walking over to Drew and grabbing a sandwich from the bag.

    ¡°She is right, Lyman¡­¡± said a voice. Only Lyman heard it, and he knew it all too well. ¡°Get away from them for a minute. I need your attention.¡±

    ¡°I have to step away for a moment, I¡¯ll take the sandwich though.¡± Lyman said, pushing his way through the others already surrounding Drew to grab his breakfast. Stygian frowned, he definitely thought Lyman was more selfish than even him.

    His captor stumbled off into the woods as the others sighed and looked at one another.

    ¡°Well, whoever wants to ditch him, say I.¡± Nove said, looking at everyone. At first some members of the group thought it was a joke. But they quickly realized Nove was not joking.

    ¡°I¡¯d say we don¡¯t... With monsters like that roaming around¡­ we may need all the help we can get.¡± Julia said between bites, shuddering at the thought of that creature coming back.

    ¡°Monsters? What are ya talking about?¡± exclaimed Drew.

    ¡°This human¡­ actually, more of a creature perhaps made of television static chased us around a bit while you were away. I don¡¯t think it wanted to harm us, but it seems to have left as quickly as it came.¡± Stygian explained to the changeling.

    ¡°More magic creatures? Are you sure I¡¯m not dreaming?¡± Cristobal stuttered, pinching himself to test if he really was asleep. Unfortunately for him, he wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Does this mean¡­ hmm, maybe we aren¡¯t the only magic people in this universe after all, ayun¡­?¡± Drew thought out loud, puzzled.

    ¡°I guess¡­¡± Julia sighed, sitting on a small boulder while she ate. The others began to eat as well.

    ¡°That¡¯s for us to discover, I suppose. But I¡¯m thinkin¡¯ we¡¯ll like it here if we are stuck. The natives aren¡¯t jerks like the Brits.¡± said the agent with a hint of xenophobia.

    ¡°Yo, Cristobal.¡± began Nove, looking his way. ¡°What¡¯s the Wang Motel? Lyman suggested we stay there for the night.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ well, it¡¯s a last resort. The place is nice, but the guy who runs the place¡­ not so much.¡±

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°I guess she¡¯ll be used to it.¡± Drew chortled. Nove looked at him and growled a little, she looked ready to bite his head off.

    ¡°It¡¯s better than no roof, I say.¡± Stygian gave his opinion.

    ¡°Are there any other hotels?¡± Drew asked, turning to his guide.

    ¡°Um¡­ well¡­ unless you want to stay at Vista Lodge, which is one hundred something a night, Wang Fen looks like a good option.¡± explained Cristobal.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you have a house, Cristobal?¡± asked Julia, smirking devilishly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have room for guests.¡± the park ranger replied, breaking eye contact for a moment, then looking back for a second.

    ¡°Sure¡­ sure.¡± the Scycanthe said sarcastically, going back to eating.

    ¡°Do you have mood swings or something Julia? Because now you are starting to scare me.¡± Nove said, wide eyed.

    Julia said nothing.

    <hr>

    ¡°What do you want, I¡¯m busy!¡± Lyman muttered under his breath as he walked through the woods carelessly. He currently was walking through grass that went half way up his shins and was probably filled with tiny little bugs and larger scarier bugs. Lyman had hardly ever been into nature¡­ like ever. He¡¯d probably never climbed a tree, at least not recently.

    ¡°Look what you¡¯ve done now, Lyman.¡± said a female voice to him. It was angry, but a tad monotone.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a good answer.¡± Lyman responded with a Lyman-esque response.

    ¡°I just want you to know what you¡¯ve lost.¡± the voice continued. ¡°The Old Ones will know you¡¯ve failed them now, and you have nowhere left to run. Your time was up long ago, and you knew they were only keeping you around because-¡±

    ¡°I know, I know.¡± the therapist interrupted, coming to the end of the grass and leaning against a tree.

    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to use your powers yet, Lyman?¡± she asked, as Lyman sighed, staring off into space.

    He thought about what he¡¯d done, where he was, how he¡¯d survive. So far he didn¡¯t need his powers, his powers killed someone he cared about last time he used them. He didn¡¯t care about or stick around many people often, so it was definitely a massive blow on his self worth.

    ¡°Lyman.¡± the figure said, interrupting his thoughts. Before him stood a figure. She was tall, taller than him, wearing red high heels and had wavy long blonde hair and a white lab coat over a short, tight skirt revealing her leg to halfway up her thigh. Her form was just an illusion, he knew it. But she, her soul itself, it was there, he believed. She was real. But only he could see her.

    ¡°Harriet. I won¡¯t use you. You¡¯ve been good to me, but I cannot watch as your form takes control.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve held me back, and I would prefer an eternity with you than an eternity in whatever is in the next life.¡± Harriet replied determinedly.

    ¡°It¡¯s not like you have a choice.¡± Lyman stated.

    ¡°I would prefer you stay alive. That way I don¡¯t have to leave this world, and I¡¯ll still have you.¡± explained the splinter soul.

    ¡°Oh gosh you are so pathetic and needy sometimes.¡± replied Lyman. ¡°Just know that I don¡¯t condone using this magic of mine.¡±

    ¡°They taught it to you for a reason. These powers belong to you.¡± Harriet said.

    ¡°One of the many reasons I am doing what I am currently.¡± Lyman replied, adjusting his tie. He was sweating, yet it was nipping cold. ¡°And for your information, they gave me them for their own interests. I find it embarrassing to use them.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see your stance on that when you are being chased down by Viola, Azbycx, or one of the others.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see indeed.¡±

    ¡°And aren¡¯t you afraid of endangering the subjects?¡± Harriet asked, stepping forward to Lyman.

    ¡°They are useless to me now. I¡¯m considering actually just getting rid of them. Kidding, obviously¡­ unlesssss¡­?¡± he asked with a smirk, approaching her too.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you need them. But¡­ you always intended to keep me around, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my love.¡± he agreed, beginning to make out with her, although to anyone else, he was smooching the air. Like a psychopath.

    <hr>

    Stygian and the others were currently in Cristobal¡¯s car on the ride up the hills to Wang Fen Motel, next to another place they discovered. The Darted Grotto, a beautiful little tourist attraction in a quaint cave where plants were able to grow, covering the walls in verdancy.

    ¡°Do you know anyone here, Cristobal?¡± Drew asked from the back of the car, crammed to capacity. ¡°It¡¯d be nice to have some friends.¡±

    Cristobal, who was driving, remained focused on the road as he spoke, like a good driver. ¡°I thought I already said I knew Wang?¡±

    ¡°I meant like... are you two friends?¡± the agent replied. Julia had to sit on his lap due to lack of space and Lyman kept turning his head back from the passenger seat in the front and chuckling at his discomfort. He was sure it was some kind of ¡®payback¡¯ for his actions back in England, but it wasn¡¯t really that good. It just was more of a dick move by Lyman. ¡®If you want revenge, do it well.¡¯ Drew always said, but he kept his mouth shut this time.

    ¡°Eh, arguable, not besties or anything. Why are you guys so obsessed with getting my help, by the way?¡± the ranger asked, turning off onto another street.

    ¡°Well, you seem pretty normal about things. And you are a helpful sort.¡± Lyman chimed in as they passed by a graveyard. Stygian winced at it, remembering he¡¯d also miss his son''s funeral, something he¡¯d hoped he¡¯d never see, but now really wanted to attend. Funerals are weird like that.

    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, you guys, I don¡¯t mind helping you. As long as I¡¯m not some sort of prisoner. I¡¯m just looking for answers, and I wont rat you out. I don¡¯t really want the attention.¡±

    ¡°What a charming young man you are! You must get a ton of females and then some!¡± Lyman chortled. Cristobal ignored it, he seemed to frown in fact.

    ¡°It¡¯s just up here.¡± the ranger sighed, turning off again onto an even smaller dirt road and slowing his speed. They drove up a small hill to a plateau where they saw a large enough victorian hotel with around three stories. It seemed to be undergoing renovations in some areas, but half of it looked fully operational.

    When the words ¡®Wang Fen Motel¡¯ came to most of the group¡¯s mind, they expected some run down, trashy bed and breakfast with little faculties and terrible staff. This wasn¡¯t trashy, but it did look haunted as all hell.

    ¡°Can we perchance turn back? That Vista motel is looking quite a bit superior to this establishment¡­¡± Lyman chattered, looking at the building with fear.

    ¡°It looks beautiful¡­¡± Julia gasped.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ¡®andle the checking in.¡± Drew stated, getting out with a blank expression.

    He bravely approached the building which could only be described as a ghost mansion. The exterior fit well in the forest, it seemed upkept decently on closer inspection. The intricate wooden architecture actually impressed Drew. He was never really fond of it, compared to the magical woodwork from the Wyld.

    The world where Drew came from was very strange. The world was normal once, but after the pioneers and discoverers of magic, The Mithril Court, as they were known before they all separated, dabbled in unknown magics far beyond their control, they unleashed something.

    It wasn¡¯t evil, it was nature in and of itself breaking under their control, and thus a grand mutation spread across the entirety of Europe, part of Africa, and Western Asia. This mutation changed things, unleashing the rules and laws from another dimension into their world. It was known as Wyld, and while the Mithril Court he was once part of remained cautious of its power, some even opposing it. Drew was one of the few curious by it.

    While the world has learnt to live with the mutated animals and magical races living among them, there is still discomfort among many humans in their dimension, and Drew is all too happy to have left that behind now. What magic could truly do to their world is a scary thought, and while he understands their points, he finds their fear of the Wyld unjustified for what it has brought. All the benefits of a magical world outweighed the occasional beast attack, he thought.

    Drew opened the door, wondering what would greet him inside. Apparently not a soul. Or a ghost, or anything living or dead. Just a lobby, lit by a small crystal chandelier and housing a desk, some dead plants in pots, and several brown leather seats partially covered in white cloth.

    ¡°Hello?¡± the agent hollered into the room. There was a staircase up to the second floor, leading directly into a hallway which probably led to the rooms. There was another similar hallway on the ground floor, and a door to some sort of breakfast bar.

    Out of the breakfast bar came a man with balding black hair, turning grey too by the looks of things. He wore a bellhop uniform and had a stubble covered chin and a pointy nose. He hunched over like a goblin as he shuffled up to Drew, who internally felt amused, sorry, and disgusted by the man. The former taking priority.

    ¡°What you want, ugly? We¡¯re closed, read the sign!¡± the man said with a haughty and rough Asian accent.

    ¡°My friends and I would like a room. And I have no damn care if this place is closed, ancient one.¡±

    ¡°Wang Fen motel has the right to deny service to any of its potential patrons and annoyances.¡± the bellhop recited. The changeling thought this might be Wang Fen himself. Probably due to the plastic card unclassily pinned to his uniform that read ¡®Hello! My name is: [Wang Fen]¡¯ in bold lettering.

    ¡°You¡¯ll reserve us a room, or I¡¯m casting a spell on you. Got that?¡± Drew joked. He often jested with complete strangers like this. Why? Because it was fun! Why else?

    ¡°Ohhhh, you are one of those guys¡­ check in during the night.¡± Wang replied, crossing his arms. He was pretty animated for an old man.

    ¡°I¡¯m not kiddin¡¯, mothballs.¡± Drew ensured.

    ¡°So¡­ You¡­ really do wizardry?¡± Wang sneered, pointing a skinny, shaking arm toward Drew, who then had an idea.

    ¡°Why yes, little puny man! And I will use it to turn into a beast that will kill you if you don¡¯t reserve a room for us right now, ayun?!¡± Drew announced overdramatically at the top of his lungs. He was already into the role so well. Trickery was truly where he felt his fullest.

    ¡°Fine! You win, wizard! You can have your stupid room with your threats! But you still pay like everyone else! Got it?¡± he surrendered. ¡°But, how do I know you not liar like your magical human friend who was in two nights ago?¡±

    ¡°Friend? I¡¯ve got no fucking friends in this town. Get me my damn room or I¡¯ll cast fireball and burn your beautiful hotel down. With guilt, nice place indeed, so don¡¯t make me do it.¡± Drew ordered. He was unsure what other magical creature would live here, in this world. Either this was a madman¡¯s ravings, or¡­ maybe there really was magic in this world. His friends said of their encounters with it in his absence, but he¡¯d thought they were just making it up. He hardly trusted anybody, himself included.

    ¡°I¡¯ll prepare your room.¡± Wang replied begrudgingly.

    ¡°Make that five rooms, Doctor Mungbean!¡± he yelled as the entrance door swung open behind him.

    ¡°Oh. You aren¡¯t yelling in sheer terror.¡± Lyman said in relief, sighing. ¡°AGH! MILLION YEAR OLD HOBGOBLIN!¡± he shrieked, immediately turning the gun upon the old man, nearly giving him another heart attack following the several ones he held back prior.

    After calming down and watching Lyman lower his weapon at Drew¡¯s physical urging, Wang spoke. ¡°You have some nutjob friends, wizard man.¡± he said sarcastically, walking over to the desk. ¡°Rooms ready in thirty minutes, come back later. Get some fresh air, weather is beautiful out this time of year.¡±

    He leaves the room, vanishing down the first floor¡¯s hall and into another room. Lyman and Drew looked at each other in confusion¡­

    And then they laughed their asses off.

    Hopefully the beginning of their stay here would keep their levity alive.

    Lyman hoped for more though. Relative ease of returning to his world. If not that, then he wanted happiness, physical safety, and the security of his secrets.

    And boy¡­ he really had a lot. So much so, as he thought, he stopped laughing, blankly turned around, and marched out the door. Drew couldn¡¯t understand why, and couldn¡¯t make the connection at the time, but he knew. He definitely knew enough to pin Lyman to a cross.

    And if the situation arose, he¡¯d crucify his old friend for his own gains.