《King of Vegas》 1. ¡°Bang.¡± Blue, green, red, and yellow flecks of paper gently fall onto the dusty, sandy earth below. Confetti, and lots of it! Usually, there isn¡¯t so much, so they must¡¯ve just been dense. I feel a hard knock on my side, pushing me around and guiding me behind a thick board¡ªbig enough to cover my crouching body and then some¡ªas all sorts of nasty spells and projectiles rip through the air above us. Black, crackling electricity, sharpened and crystallized beams of water¡ªwow, they¡¯re pulling out all the stops! People really never do take kindly to the confetti-treatment. My sweet savior shakes me by the shoulder, shouting loud enough to stir me from that awe-filled and appreciative state, ¡°Quit spacin¡¯ out, Luce!¡± ¡°But Kiiing,¡± I whine, ¡°that guy must¡¯ve been a Viscount at least! Did you see how much he turned into? Praise me a lit¡ª¡± A sickly green bubble of Decay interrupts my defense, and I stop to watch on with all of my attention as it eats through our little wooden barrier. There¡¯s a tug on the collar of my jacket as King pulls me back, bringing me to my feet with all the suaveness of a samba dancer. ¡°Yeah, yeah¡ªyou did real good. Now help me with the rest of ¡®em!¡± He yells, slamming a pair of gleaming brass knuckles into a swaying shaft made of rainbow. It shatters against him, turning into little more than a fading cloud of light. There¡¯s about a dozen of ¡®em left, the rats we¡¯re hunting. King never really drags me out to the edges of Old Vegas, but he made an exception this time around¡ªhe knows I¡¯ll always be there when the enemies get really tough. And, you know, the enemies really are tough this time around¡ªdeluxe stuff. When this little scrap started out, they had a whole lot of Barons¡ªat least the twenty-five they¡¯d need to ¡°make up¡± for the gap in the chain. That kinda stuff is just in-theory, though: in-practice, they were just cocky cannon-fodder. That¡¯s okay, though! I love flashy battles with no real risk involved, unlike some other battle-maniacs. Or, you know, no real risk ¡®cause I popped their Viscount. He was strong, that one: stuffed to the gills with bright fire and foul language¡ªthink he was in Glory. After he died his lessers looked about ready to either turn tail or rush me all at once. With that kind of reaction, you just know I took out a high-ranking syndicate member. Once King isn¡¯t busy with this stuff, he¡¯s gonna be so happy¡­ And then I¡¯ll get to be ¡®stuff¡¯. One of those lessers I mentioned before decides to take the initiative, swinging a glowing, weeping hatchet¡ªcouldn¡¯t make out whether it was just an entity or an honest-to-goodness conceptual weapon¡ªin the general direction of my head. After stepping back and flashing a grin at this stone-cold-killer, a single index finger of mine pokes at his chest despite the gap between us. ¡°Bang.¡± The poor fella¡¯ is stuffed so full of Whimsy that his guts turn to streamers¡ªand then the rest of him joins the party. Just another pile of pretty paper on the ground with his former boss. A real gun is pretty unreliable¡ªespecially this high up on the chain¡ªbut a finger gun¡¯s never failed me. One¡¯s shooting moonbeams, she falls victim to the old anvil-from-the-sky trick (you¡¯re gonna think I¡¯m joking, but she really does look up when I point above her.) Another sics an entity on me¡ªsome snarling beast that looks like a wyvern and a tiger had a drunken affair¡ªand it¡¯s quickly discorporated by a needle on the nose. It pops like a balloon, rubbery scraps of it floating through the air once it¡¯s done. Its summoner stares me down with raw hate in their eyes, roaring like its entity before being quieted by King¡¯s knuckles¡ªwhich puts a hole in their head big enough to, well¡­ To kill ¡®em, I guess. After a while, I wind up losing track of all the poor summoners the two of us take out. None of ¡®em are particularly strong, just some bits and pieces sent out to eye King¡¯s territory. The other syndicates are real bastards when it comes to their underlings sometimes¡ªthe weak ones, at least. I¡¯m only stirred from that dance of mine by the clapping of King¡¯s hands. No way, is he gonna do it? I whip around, just in time to see a corona of gold forming on the ground, sucking up all the light around it. Nah, it¡¯d be more accurate to say that it¡¯s ruling all of the light around it. In the center, King¡¯s sitting down like a real-deal monarch, chin on his knuckles. And all around his light, those few that survived our little massacre are kneeling¡ªnot by choice, of course¡ªlike they¡¯re trying to bury their heads into the dirt. It¡¯s always a treat when I get to see his field-spell¡­ ¡°Raise your heads.¡± He commands, hand outstretched like he¡¯s pulling on their strings. And then, they do. Their bodies don¡¯t come up much, but their gaze is fixed up right at him. One looks about ready to break down, and another is red in the face from frustration. That indignant guy speaks up, even though his voice is strained. ¡°F-fuck you¡­ You can¡¯t do this, Pussy¡ªyou piece of¡­¡± He stops, his breath hitching, ¡°P-piece of shit¡­¡± He chokes out, ¡°Velvet¡¯s gonna get your ass for this¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, I was planning on that.¡± King says simply, dismissively snapping his fingers. A glittering, spectral halberd swings down from the air, decapitating that unruly subject as if by the work of some invisible soldier. As soon as it disappears, he looks over at the rest of them, ¡°Where¡¯s Velvet keeping the records?¡± ¡°S-she¡¯ll kill us, K.P¡­¡± One whimpers, ¡°You know tha-¡± King puts a finger up to his lips, hushing that lost little lamb. ¡°Whose hand do you wanna die by: hers or mine?¡± He doesn¡¯t give them a second to say anything in return, offering another bit of advice, ¡°Bearing in mind, of course, that she isn¡¯t the one with a blade to your throat right now.¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Fuck¡­¡± That same one groans. ¡°Not a fucking word.¡± The other one¡ªthe only other one left¡ªhisses, ¡°You owe the syndicate your damn soul. Who do you think helped you up the chain?¡± Another halberd removes this yipping hound¡¯s head from his shoulders, and in my very best game-show-host voice I call out, ¡°Oooh, I¡¯m sorry! That wasn¡¯t the answer we were looking for~¡± King glances over at me, and then back to the lone summoner. ¡°You heard the girl.¡± He says, ¡°I think you know how to get out of this, don¡¯t you?¡± Their head hangs low, and then they fold like a cheap table.
Ouranapolis was supposed to be a city of the future. A megacity unlike any other¡ªa ¡°city in the sky¡± that¡¯d make any other society fall to its knees and weep and sob and¡­ Well, then the changeover happened, magic happened. And ¡°city in the sky¡± doesn¡¯t exactly ring true when you¡¯ve got real cities in the sky rather than just extra tall buildings. Some stuck-up bastards call it by its real name, but most people living in this hive of debauchery lovingly call it by its nickname: Ouranofalus. It¡¯s not much of an exaggeration, either¡ªthe architects in charge of some of those pre-changeover buildings really must not have thought very deeply about how they looked. The artificial stars here are no match for the real deal, but the Court of Night is pretty good at replicating ¡®em. Clusters of those twinkling lights are shining up above us, hiding the mass of architecture of the level above. Besides that, the only other light is from shining faux-neon. Countless signs for the seediest establishments you¡¯ve ever been to¡ªno, no, seedier¡ªbeckon you at every turn. Someone to warm your bed, drink for your sobbing heart, food for your soul and loose arteries. The spot we¡¯re headed to now is on the first layer of this wedding cake of a city¡ªthat¡¯s Velvet¡¯s territory. The Red Sheets have a real complex about living on the lowest level, but that¡¯s pretty stupid as far as I¡¯m concerned. At least they actually live in the city proper. In the eastern quarter of this layer, there¡¯s a diner with milkshakes that are to die for. But, as sad as it may be, we aren¡¯t here for milkshakes. A bouncer eyes the two of us¡ªmostly King¡ªup and down, trying to find some sort of reason to run us off like a loyal dog might. I lean to the side, getting an earful of booming music and bad decisions fueled by alcohol. The lights inside flash through even to the entrance in all sorts of inviting colors. This is the Maze, Velvet¡¯s little nest egg. And, as it turns out, the target for two intrepid gangsters. Errr¡­ No, no, what does King always say? ¡°Firebrands?¡± Right, right¡ªthat one. Two intrepid firebrands. ¡°K.P.¡± She says with a nod, a simple acknowledgement. I can tell she¡¯s frothing at the mouth, aching for a fight¡ªthose handwraps aren¡¯t for nothing. But as much as she might want it, she can¡¯t bar the King of Old Vegas from coming in. We¡¯re just a cute couple going out clubbing, no mischief here at all. Step one of the plan: complete. Bet that bouncer¡¯s ringing up the inside security, maybe even one of the bosses¡ªbut I¡¯ve got express permission to go wild! I rush down the stairs, even ahead of King, passing through a sea of swaying bodies and beams of light. The music¡¯s loud enough to mask just about any sound, you¡¯d have to scream to be heard. It¡¯s gonna be killer on my precious little eardrums, but that¡¯s the cost of doing business, I guess. The scenery¡¯s wrought-iron bars and lounge chairs barely visible through the people mashed on top of them. Floor¡¯s made out of real nice tile, reflects the lights from above just little enough to avoid irritating your eyes. And the smell? Man, don¡¯t get me started on that¡ªjust take a wild guess. The DJ is up in her booth, hand pressed to one ear to keep a single side of her headphones in place. Think she¡¯s probably got an amplifier up there, something to get her voice across the floor. Though, for whatever reason, one of the few Sheets goons guarding the place doesn¡¯t take very kindly to my wordless intrusion. A pair of firm hands push me back from the stairs up into the booth, and a rough voice scolds me. ¡°You got business up there?¡± ¡°Sure do!¡± I say, ¡°Got a message for the club, so if you would just-¡± I push my way forward again, only to be rejected and shoved away again. Maybe my reason wasn¡¯t good enough? ¡°Look, lady, how about you go back out there and get yourself a drink or something? Quit giving me trouble.¡± ¡°No can do! I¡¯m in a tough spot, too, you know?¡± Speaking from experience here, these things take a real gentle touch. Trust me. A hand on this loyal, overzealous guard¡¯s chest is enough to open the way for me¡ªand as a real gesture of kindness, they even celebrate my entry with a cloud of confetti. I just love being appreciated. And so, as a girl often does, I take the stairs up and into the prized booth of this exceptional DJ. She looks a bit confused about my sudden arrival, but that¡¯s okay. I pull her aside, away from her vast repertoire of magical equipment, and explain the situation in a way that anyone would understand. ¡°I need to use your microphone real quick~¡± The DJ cocks her head to the side, blinking a few times over the raw noise, ¡°What?¡± ¡°Your microphone!¡± I shout a little louder, ¡°Need to use it, pretty please.¡± She seems a bit annoyed, but otherwise acquiesces to her guest¡¯s request, leading me over to those formation-laden cubes and prisms. Glyphs from all sorts of different Courts cover their surfaces, phonemes all written to aid in this dizzying performance¡ªmust¡¯ve cost a fortune. I stare at it for a second, totally clueless, before she presses something with a huff. ¡°You talk into this.¡± She says, pointing at a knob on a shaft of some kind. Looks sort of like a microphone, I guess? ¡°Oh, thanks.¡± I take the mic into a single hand, the phonemes spiraling down its handle sparking to life as it¡¯s activated. The music cuts, the partying stops, and all those eyes peer up at the booth as if the sun just went out. ¡°Goooood evening everyone!¡± I flash a grin to the club floor, catching a glimpse of King smirking up at me, ¡°This is Lucia Cruz speaking~ I¡¯m here tonight to inform you all that this establishment is now under new management!¡± A few figures below start to make their move, rushing to the stairs to come and put a stop to my little scene. Then, I lose sight of King¡ªhe¡¯s probably raiding their back-room by now. Footsteps sound out behind me, and I offer them my very best, ¡°My advice is nice and simple: fuck off and everything¡¯ll be okay!¡± 2. Brash, intimidating, stupid, and certainly unaccommodating. It¡¯s clear to me Velvet hasn¡¯t sent her best to this place. ¡°Step away from the fucking mic!¡± One of them repeats. I give this overworked puppy of Velvet¡¯s a soft smile, ¡°Hey, hey~ Did you hear what I said, though?¡± ¡°This lady¡¯s crazy,¡± the other says, ¡°let¡¯s just get her out of here, right?¡± Love this part¡ªalways do. Before those two oafs¡¯ eyes can even register the fact that my body¡¯s left their sight, their nerves each fire off red, blaring sirens. ¡°Alert!¡± They cry, ¡°Alert!¡± They weep, ¡°This woman¡¯s got her arm on our shoulder!¡± And then I say, ¡°I took her for discourteous, but she won¡¯t even take you out to get your ears cleaned? Seems like you really need it, too.¡± Rather than whipping around and attempting to slug me with everything they¡¯ve got, both of ¡®em just freeze up. Harsh as I was on them, it looks like they might actually be some of the brighter Sheets¡¯ members. ¡°Alls below,¡± one worriedly sighs, ¡°what do you want?¡± Yeah, nevermind. Seems like sometimes it¡¯s better to avoid jumping to conclusions, I guess. ¡°I want you to get out of here, you and all of your buddies.¡± I restate. ¡°It¡¯d be a big help if you called for backup, actually! Make a nice, big scene about it¡ªget your master!¡± It takes them a few fearful moments to finally step away from me, before looking back as if to make sure I won¡¯t just kill them while their backs are turned. After shooing them again, they run off like the good little strays that they are. With the ¡°security detail¡± dealt with, there¡¯s only one small, eensy, teeny problem left. Looks like most of the customers got the memo to ¡®fuck off,¡¯ but there are a few stragglers left. My fault, really¡ªshould¡¯ve started with the big guns right off the bat. ¡°Oh, beloved Puck?~¡± I call, a hand on my chest for dramatic flair. A gentle gust of wind¡ªsomething like the seabreeze in a coastal town¡ªwhirls around me. The clacking of wooden clogs on the ground behind me and then¡­ Her voice. ¡°Yes, summoner mine?¡± She coos, her tone just as dramatic, theatrical as mine¡ªif not more. My gorgeous sea-sprite always appreciates an opportunity to make mischief. I do too, honestly, but there¡¯s been less of that since I started doing things with King. ¡°Would you be so kind as to shepherd these lost souls home?¡± With a flourish, she steps around me, patchwork hanbok flowing behind her like the waters she came from. Hair like thin sheets of kelp, almond-colored skin and ram¡¯s horns the same color and texture as pearls¡ªone time I asked her if they were the same material, and she just about throttled me out of offense. Guess she thought I might¡¯ve taken ¡®em off her. ¡°In words befitting your station, my dear Fool?¡± ¡°Send these idiots packing.¡± She bows toward me, giggling like a child might, ¡°At your Whims, summoner.¡± The nymph saunters over to the DJ¡¯s equipment (that DJ, by the way, disappeared without a trace sometime after those guards first showed up) and takes ahold of that formation-microphone as if she¡¯d spent her whole damn life doing it. There¡¯s the click of a switch, and then momentary feedback. And I, giddy as if I just had a gift box tossed down in front of me, sit there and wait to see what she¡¯ll do next. ¡°Gosh,¡± she yawns, hand held up to her open mouth, chock-full of razor-sharp teeth. Alls below, she¡¯s good¡ªshe nearly had me yawning! ¡°I¡¯m tired¡­ I think I wanna go home.¡± It¡¯s a lot easier than you¡¯d think to make someone else believe that your desire¡¯s no different from theirs. That¡¯s more or less the idea behind Puck¡¯s little trick. That small crowd stirs a bit, and then they all lift up their heads at once¡ªwhich is, frankly speaking, fucking creepy. Can¡¯t quite hear ¡®em, but it looks to me that they¡¯re just mirroring Puck¡¯s Whims. Monkey see, monkey do, I guess. Before long they¡¯ll all be heading back to wherever they came from¡ªwhatever they think is home. With a silent smile on her face, Puck turns back to me. Clearly she¡¯s pretty happy with herself, and honestly? I¡¯m happy with her, too! ¡°Thanks, Puck.¡± She says, ¡°it was nothing¡± just as that smile widens into a full-blown grin that betrays her humility, patting me on the shoulder with an excited hand. With her work all done and dusted, she withdraws back into my spirit, tucked in nice and cozy in my musculature. Puck really doesn¡¯t like being out much when King¡¯s around¡ªsomething about him sucking all the fun out of the room. That¡¯s all the easy stuff out of the way, I guess¡ªnow I actually gotta pull my weight. King put me in charge of this next bit, after all.
Velvet Alto, boss of the Red Sheets and defacto ruler of the first layer of Ouranofalus, is staring down at me like she just found her childhood puppy tearing her mom¡¯s arm off. ¡°You gotta be kidding me.¡± She mutters, ¡°Luce?¡± The last drunk to leave stumbles past me, mumbling something about his kids. I¡¯m sat on the edge of the sidewalk, just outside of the club¡ªwhere I¡¯ve been for at least ten minutes waiting on her. ¡°Yup-yup. What¡¯s up, Velv?¡± She¡¯s in that outfit I like¡ªa black coat that goes a bit past her waist, worn from the years she¡¯s spent wearing it in this place. She never buttons the thing up, but I prefer it that way. Underneath, a dress-shirt with little sky-blue stripes, so thin that they almost blend right in with the white. Her hair¡¯s gotten longer, too¡ªan uncontrolled mess of red that almost seems hell-bent on eating her pale-skinned face. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. There¡¯s a few barely-restrained summoners behind her, a posse of underlings looking to turn this into a bloodbath. She keeps these ones in particular on a tight leash, though. Wouldn¡¯t do to have your strongest running rampant without you being able to keep an eye on ¡®em, and most of Velvet¡¯s underlings are pretty rowdy to begin with. Well, maybe not so rowdy compared to another¡¯s. ¡°Fucks¡¯ sake.¡± A thumb and index finger work at the bridge of her nose, as if she¡¯ll suddenly get healing hands capable of fixing up whatever migraine is tearing at her tonight. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re actually running with Pussy now.¡± My smile is all she needs for an answer. Her hand whips down, eyes sharpening into a nasty glare. Then, she softens, all that frustration exhaled out with an annoyed breath. She doesn¡¯t want to fight¡ªshe wants to talk. Maybe it¡¯d be more accurate to say that she¡¯s forcing herself to make that decision. ¡°Do you still have my good sweater?¡± She asks. ¡°Err¡­¡± Yeah, that thing¡¯s been ripped to shreds¡ªcan¡¯t even remember what fight I got into that led to it getting destroyed. ¡°I¡¯ll pay you back for it..?¡± She sighs, ¡°You¡¯re shit at writing phonemes.¡± Then, after an uncomfortable silence hangs there for what feels like an hour¡ªso less than a minute¡ªshe asks, ¡°Did you kill my guys in Old Vegas?¡± ¡°Not all of ¡®em.¡± I say, ¡°Just uh¡­ Most of ¡®em.¡± ¡°So you know that I gotta take you out?¡± Makes me feel bad how much concern¡¯s in that tone of hers. She¡¯s worried for me, practically telling me that I should skip town. It¡¯s kinda annoying¡ªdo I look that weak? Damn. ¡°Yup.¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m at Earl, Luce. And you¡¯re a Vi-¡± ¡°An Earl.¡± I gloat. ¡°Don¡¯t bullshit me, you¡¯ve been stuck at Viscount for years.¡± ¡°Earl¡¯s a tough nut to crack, you should know that.¡± She pivots back to her crew, back to me, and then back to them. There¡¯s a moment of hesitation, and then resignation¡ª she barks out a command, ¡°Ready an evacuation order for the layer. Now.¡± ¡°W-which districts?¡± One asks. Oooh, they really don¡¯t know what¡¯s about to go down, do they? ¡°Everything within ten miles, dumbass¡ªgo!¡± She snaps, and they run off. The two of us are left alone with no one else to disturb what¡¯s coming next. This is my favorite part¡ªthis anticipation. It¡¯s like you can feel every nerve in your body, like they¡¯re shivering. Is she gonna start us off, or am I gonna have to? If she does go first, is she just gonna test me, or will she give it everything she¡¯s got? The fighting part is a royal pain in the ass, but this is something else. Her hand darts to her side, drawing a revolver faster than any regular old human eye could process. No wasted movements, no errors or flaws, just a flash of conceptual gunfire from the hip in well under a second from her neutral stance. She might be the best there is in the world at using that weapon of hers. Even if she isn¡¯t, she won¡¯t miss. Nah, she can¡¯t miss. She¡¯s Mastery, the Unerring Sharpshooter. My teeth clamp down on a bullet meant for my heart, stopping it with a small sizzle. I spit it back, trying to ignore that disgusting taste of metal and smoke, and it whizzes past her neck only a little slower than it was on its first firing. She looks, well¡­ A little spooked. The only reason I know about her Unerring Sharpshooter-ness, of course, is because I¡¯m a real heartbreaker. And, to be totally clear with you right now, it¡¯s not my fault she spilled all of her secrets to someone she fell in love with, you know? I didn¡¯t even ask¡ªand besides: it¡¯s common sense that you don¡¯t blab to someone about your gnosis shards until you¡¯ve put a ring on their finger. Even King doesn¡¯t know about mine. With all that out of the way, dear audience, we¡¯ve learned one thing about Velv¡ªand I didn¡¯t even have to stand up! Here¡¯s how I see it: ¡°Unerring¡± seemed pretty content with landing in my teeth, but I know that thing was on a track faster than Every Train¡¯s straight for my heart. I¡¯m sure a Baron would¡¯ve been hit down to the correct valve. But what about a Viscount? An Earl? Far as I can tell, hitting any part of my body is a win when we¡¯re equal on the chain. Maybe it helps if I let it hit a different part of me instead of its actual target? Man, this is why I hate balanced fights. ¡°Son of a bitch¡­¡± She says under her breath. Is she starting to get it? Ah, no¡ªlooks like she wants to test a few more volleys to make sure she¡¯s right. Why¡¯s she so hesitant to pull out her territory? King¡¯s gonna get mad at me, but, I wanna be a little selfish¡ªjust a little¡ªand get rid of all the pity in her eyes before we get down to the real fight. Even if it means it stays balanced all the way through. Wanna play defense, Puck? Against this poor girl? She laughs in my mind, Of course, summoner mine. Three bullets strike against my body, only for some phantasmal grease to send them looping around my torso and then rocketing back into the air around us. Think one of ¡®em hit a window, because I hear some glass shatter loudly nearby. Each of them were glancing blows, less painful than getting grazed. Velvet leaps back, like the distance is some kind of safety blanket. She knows it doesn¡¯t matter at this level, same as I do¡ªit¡¯s just some mental trick. She yells, ¡°Luce! What in the fuck are you playing at here?¡± And then her gun fires again. Bullets whip around me, disappearing after a few orbits. This time I could barely feel the impacts¡ªthink Puck is getting pretty good at this one. I think about her question for a second, and then say, ¡°I¡¯m just helping King out, Velv. Sorry.¡± ¡°Do you know what you¡¯re even doing?!¡± She shouts, forgetting herself, forgetting what¡¯s happening and where she is, ¡°The Lodgemaster¡ªno, the fucking Tenken-bumon! You¡¯re going to bring a shitstorm on yourself that you can¡¯t ever take back if you keep at this!¡± Four bullets she¡¯s sent to my heart, and she¡¯s still going on about my damn safety¡ªwhat¡¯s wrong with her? A low drone¡ªthat sounds a lot like what I¡¯d imagine a whale¡¯s call to sound like¡ªdisrupts the quiet after what she says, almost loud enough to shake the ground. It¡¯s a sound meant to bring unease, to tell you ¡°Get the fuck out of here!¡± For their sake, I hope the people here listen. And if that isn¡¯t enough for some of ¡®em, the stars in the sky blink out, twisting in the inky black only to return as a blood red. They cast a scarlet gloom on everything in the city¡ªand if you ask me, it¡¯s pretty fucking evil-looking. I put my hands up to my face, covering my eyes like a mom playing peekaboo with her kid. Then I ask, ¡°Do you believe me now?¡± ¡°Do I¡ª¡± She gasps in exasperation, almost inaudible under that droning, ¡°What does it matter? Of course I believe you, you idiot! Now, will you stop this crazy shit?!¡° My teeth flash like rubies, catching and reflecting the light from the sky as a smile takes hold of me. She believes me! Finally, fuck! All of this ranting and raving about the powers-that-be¡­ And even now, it¡¯s like she thinks this fight¡¯ll just come to an end because she says so. Why can¡¯t she just get down to it and accept how things are? Even if it¡¯s tough, even if it sucks a little bit, I follow my heart! That¡¯s how it goes¡ªbut this sweet, pretty, simple little dummy thinks I¡¯m gonna cut a Whim short just to avoid causing some trouble? Yeah fucking right. Like a house¡¯s window opening up, my hands fold outward. Infinite potential, infinite possibilities¡ªa shift in you and reality itself, guided by your heart, your passions. The Underside and the Real smashed and sandwiched here into one sublime existence¡ªa territory of Whimsy. The cityscape around us adapts and distorts, that awful red banished from my bubble in favor of bright sunlight. Those wide streets begin to fill up with water to inevitably become rivers, and the sidewalks their stone embankments¡ªlined with strange and beautiful wooden fences. Roots and trees sprout slowly from the sides of buildings, claiming parts of them even as their architecture becomes more complex and fanciful. The sun beams down on Velvet, its teeth and eyes both glowing brilliantly; swaying and rotating pyramids forming a circle all around it. And I ask her, now nearing the end of the thin rope that is my patience, ¡°You gonna use yours?¡±