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ty-talks-comics · 5 years

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Best of Marvel: Week of October 16th, 2019

Best of this Week: Absolute Carnage #4 - Donny Cates, Ryan Stegman, JP Mayer, Frank Martin, Jay Leisten and Clayton Cowles

God is Coming and Eddie Brock is ready for him.

Things have not been looking good for Eddie, Peter and the rest of the heroes of New York. Carnage’s brutality and efficiency has seen him gain the upper hand at every turn imaginable, allowing him to snatch up codices from almost everyone he’s encountered. Ghost Riders haven’t been safe, Spider-People haven’t been safe and even girls with magical powers over hell haven’t been able to stop Carnage’s warpath.

The last issue saw him take the appearance of Eddie Brock to infiltrate The Maker’s lab to steal the codices from Captain America, The Thing and Wolverine, taking everyone by surprise and seeing the Hulk use the Venom Symbiote himself. This issue follows up on that excellently by showing us the fallout of Hulk merging with Venom, Eddie dealing with the loss of his other again and the heroic efforts he makes to protect his son.

The book begins with an amazingly drawn and explosive punch by Venom Hulk. Carnage is laughing as he’s being put through a wall while clawing at Hulk’s eyes. The Symbiote is barely able to contain all of Hulk’s massive musculature as it appears to be tearing apart around his fist and forearm. The use of blur around the edges of the page sell you on the velocity of the punch and all of the rubble flying out as they go through the wall shows just how heavy and impactful the blow was. For added measure, there’s even a pigeon just flying by as it all happens.

As the fight is going on, Eddie and Peter take Normie and Ethan to The Maker’s armory to protect the kids from the Symbiote Zombies and Norman Osborn himself. Eddie is dead set on protecting the other heroes, but Peter tries to convince him to stay down with the rest of them. This issue gives us one of the best glimpses of the inner heroism of Eddie Brock as he looks at Spider-Man with the most desperate look possible, one eye stitched closed and asks him to let him do this. Spider-Man does and Eddie gathers Cap’s shield and maybe some kind of electric glove to go and protect everyone. Presumably, the events of Amazing Spider-Man #31 take place while Eddie is out fighting.

The next few pages are just strings of awesomely paced and spectacularly drawn fight scenes. Eddie, armed with the shield, fights his way through Carnage’s hordes and Miles Morales as an infected symbiote re-emerges. (Sorta ignoring the events of Miles’ own tie-in) Elsewhere, Venom Hulk and Carnage continue their romp around the warehouse district as Carnage is surprisingly holding his own against the black and green giant. Frank Martin and the various inkers really set the mood for the fight. The fires glow bright in the backgrounds with a vibrant red and white coloring to it, almost like a fiery mist. Rain crashes down around them and the inks are dark in the perfect places, really bringing out the deep red in Carnage’s color scheme as well as the black veins that now coil around his body. As Carnage mushes Hulk into a wall, you can feel his expression of pain and rage, accentuated by the glowing green of his eyes.

Pinned under Cap’s shield with Miles bearing down on him, Eddie decides to use the shock glove to blast the symbiote off of the young Spider, allowing the two to finally re-team as Miles runs down what he learned while hearing Carnage’s thoughts. He warns that if he gets Hulk’s Codex and the Venom Symbiote, he’ll be unstoppable. In a surprise upset, Carnage overpowers the mind of the Hulk, turning him back into Banner and rips his spine right out as Eddie and Miles show up. It’s a disgusting scene as they always are with Cowles making sure to put as much emphasis as he can by giving it a nice “SHRIPP” sound effect in big, bold, red letters over an entirely black background.

Before we know it, Carnage is covered in the Venom Symbiote, becoming an ultra badass. Ryan Stegman has done a lot to redesign some of the elements of some symbiotes, but this Black Carnage is somehow so much cooler and so much better. He looks like a demon knight with the pauldrons with spikes, an improbable neck guard/collar and Maleficent-esque horns all crackling with hell energy. Eddie begins to lose all hope upon seeing him, but that feeling is washed away when Captain America, The Thing and Wolverine all show up to help in the fight.

Miles grabs Eddie and tells him that the Maker’s machine that was supposed to destroy the codices did no such thing and instead saved them all. The last moments of the book show the Doverton Avengers fight a losing effort against Carnage while Eddie punches the machine, giving his own inner monologue about how he feels something creeping up inside of him. The hope that he thought was lost. Surrounded by all of this blackness and despair, Carnage and all of his bringers of Death, Eddie punches his way to the light.

As the penultimate issue to Absolute Carnage, have to say that this event and the various tie-ins that have accompanied it have been absolutely amazing to read. I usually decry back to back event stories, especially since we had just come off the heels of War of the Realms, but Absolute Carnage fit the aesthetic of everything I love in stories. It’s dark, it’s bleak and it’s Absolutely Brutal.

Ryan Stegman can do no wrong here as his art style is amazing from start to finish, he has an eye for action scenes and makes great use of single a double page spreads to bring out the most in every scene. Even when the fighting is confined to a few panels, he manages to spring as many infected as he can into the space, making things feel claustrophobic and dangerous. Frank Martin’s colors give this book life, however, when they’re burning with darkness or glimmer with small glimpses of hope. They complete the amazing package by pulling the emotion out of you, whether you’re terrified or you have a bit of hope only or it to be ripped away.

JP Mayer and Jay Leisten help him by making sure that the pages have the perfect amount of darkness to them. The inks are phenomenal and really help to give off that feeling of hopelessness and danger in every scene, even better that most of this story takes place at night so the mood is always set.

I love that Eddie Brock is starting to be seen less as the villain who used to eat people’s brains and more as this responsible every-man that’s been caught in an extraordinary situation. When he got the Symbiote back at the end of Lee Price’s time in All-New, All Different Marvel, I never expected him to get this much heart. That’s the main thing that Donny Cates has contributed to this character, that feeling of heroism.

Eddie’s becoming a much better person than he ever was in the past, but at the same time, we know that he can never fully escape who he was. Even at the end of this issue there was a transcription of his first time in jail when he first met Cletus Kasady and it was so weird to see how unhinged Eddie was not too long ago.

As Absolute Carnage draws to a close (and with Venom Island on the horizon) I can’t wait to see what direction his story takes and how Eddie Brock could possibly see Avenger status in the far future. High recommend.

#marvel comics #comics #marvel horror #horror #absolute carnage #carnage #cletus kasady #eddie brock #spider man #venom #donny cates #ryan stegman #jp mayer #frank martin

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kentuckywrites · 6 years

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Again

Doug and Pongo have a sparring match.

Doug never cared for flashy or stylish things. He was always one for efficiency, especially out on the field. He wanted things to get the job done. And his colleagues were well aware of this, so they were shocked when he went and bought himself a new sports car. It looked like a God damn Hot Wheels got inflated with helium, he had thought at first.

He had to admit, though: it was one hell of a drive. It was fast, powerful - needed a charge often, but it was worth the satisfaction it gave him. None of those factors, however, contributed to the initial purchase. It was the safety features that drew him in. The car could’ve been uglier than an insidius, and Doug would’ve bought it.

After all, Pongo needed to learn how to drive a car, and God knew the kid needed the safety measures put in.

The first day he’d been behind the wheel, he’d been nervous as all hell. Sure, the kid was a natural at driving Skells, but Skells had almost nothing in common with cars. Cars had pedals and shifts, Skells had buttons and levers and command consoles for arts. Pongo was hesitant to even get in the car, he was so nervous. Then Doug promised him a bought of training if he was able to drive around the commercial district a bit, and he was in the driver’s seat in seconds.

Today, as usual, this promise had excited the blank-eyed Interceptor. It had been a week since the last drive, and Doug was wondering as he drove if Pongo was getting worse instead of better. He needed constant reminding that red lights meant STOP and that it was not okay to stop in the middle of the road to look at people walking their dogs. Doug had lost count of the number of times he’d felt his heart pounding so fast, all because Pongo came to such sudden stops to admire dogs. As much as Doug was a dog person, he was not a traffic loving person.

Thankfully, after the commercial district drive, there were no such incidents involving dogs. However, on the way to the hangar Pongo waved hi to someone - and proceeded to almost run over them. Doug was able to get his hand on the wheel in time to steer him straight. The guy Pongo almost ran over shouted a long list of profanities and something about ruining his God damn suit again. There was emphasis on again. Doug only sighed, deciding not to ask about the history behind that. He told Pongo to park in the usual spot: right outside the entrance to the test hangar. On some special days he would tell him to park at the diner, just to practice his slot parking. But it was too busy today. Pongo would hit someone’s car - again.

That was an again Doug didn’t really want to explain.

After Pongo parked successfully next to the crane, he jumped out with a big grin. The boy was a few inches shorter than Doug, but he’d been noticing a little strand of hair perking up on Pongo’s head. He wasn’t sure why Pongo was using so much force when he was brushing his hair. If he kept that sort of force up, his whole head would be covered in short strands like that. Hell, Doug had even heard rumors that that was how Bozè lost his hair. It’d been long and golden silky, apparently. Couldn’t have been much worse than Doug’s mullet from high school.

“So what are we gonna practice today?” Pongo jumped up and down as they went inside, “Or am I gonna learn something new? Either way I am suuuuper excited!!”

Doug couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. “You should be. I got a plan for you.”

The test hangar was empty when they entered. Completely empty. Doug would’ve placed a bet that the Outfitters were out partying at the diner - again. It had been a full week, a full week, since the Core was restored. He thought the partying would’ve stopped by now.

But the lack of distractions would be good for their session today. There was a rack of weapons for them to choose from against the far right wall, and they went to it. Doug picked up a photon saber. Pongo, a longsword. Unsheathing it from its case, he made sure the blade was in tact. “Alright, ready! What have you got for me?”

“Actually, before we do anything else…” Doug raised a finger, “Put the longsword away.”

Pongo blinked. “...What?”

“You heard me. It’s time you started picking up other weapons,” He explained. “As much as you love your current set, you may not always be able to use just the assault rifle and longsword. A good BLADE learns to adapt to the missions they’re given and pick up weapons that will help them and their team in battle.”

Hesitant, Pongo sheathed the sword and placed it back on the rack. “So...what should I use?”

Doug shrugged. “Pick something that speaks to you. I’m not expecting you to master whatever you pick, just test the water with them.”

Pongo gazed over the options. It was hard to tell if he was focusing on any specific weapon. Doug still thought it was a weird mim modification to have. Did he want people to think he was blind or something?

He watched as Pongo reached out towards a shield. Doug prepared himself to help out; if Pongo chose to try using a shield first, it was possible he’d be overwhelmed by its weight. But when Pongo picked it up with his right hand, he seemed to have no trouble keeping it up. He even bounced it up in his hand to get a better grip.

“Shield, huh?” Doug said, “Can’t say it wouldn’t suit you. Wanna test it out?”

Pongo ended up shaking his head. “Maybe not today. But I do want to find a melee weapon first.”

“Well, you’ve got options. Javelins, dual swords, knives, photon sabers -”

“Can I test one of those out?” Doug blinked in surprise as Pongo interrupted him. “Sure. I know a thing or two about them, I could give you a few extra pointers if you want.”

Pongo took a saber hilt off of the rack, observing it carefully. “I mean, I like it, but...where is the blade?” That got the Harrier to let out a heart chuckle. “C’mon, you haven’t seen me turn mine on before? There’s a button near the arts panel on the hilt.”

He fiddled around with it and eventually pressed something with his thumb. The blade extended out of the hilt and towards Doug, who was too late to jump back. The point of the blade was millimeters from his nose. Pongo managed to notice and react accordingly, which involved him stepping back, pointing the blade at the ground, and spewing out a thousand “SORRY!”s.

“Hey now, it’s alright,” Doug reassured him, “Just make sure you point out of harm’s way next time.”

He turned around and grabbed his own photon saber’s hilt, which was hanging off of a clip on his armor. Igniting the blade, he put a bit of distance in between them and turned back to face Pongo. Both of his hands were now on the hilt, just like how he would grip his longsword. It wasn’t good for him to stay overly attached to that thing, Doug knew, but if he really sucked with the other weapons, he wouldn’t push it. Better to try something new and fail than to never try it at all.

“The first thing you’ll notice is how much lighter it feels compared to the longsword,” Doug explained, “And for the most part, just imagine you’re using the longsword. But be careful, the saber is lighter, but that means it’s faster. Take your time with it for now and don’t feel like you have to swing a thousand times per second.”

Pongo nodded, focusing his attention on where his hands grasped the hilt. He adjusted his grip, placed one foot in front of the other, and assumed a near perfect fighting stance. Looks like that longsword training helps him with the basics, Doug thought to himself.

Pongo began to slowly mimic the moves he usually made with his longsword, testing the water with the new blade. Doug was content watching for now, and he’d point out any tips he thought the boy might need. But so far, Pongo was handling it better than most new recruits did. After a minute or so, he let his left hand fall to his side, realizing that the saber could be held comfortably with one hand. The slashes became quicker, more precise. Doug had to admit, he was pretty impressed, though the moves were still on the basic side. There would be a fun way to test how far he could really go with that saber.

Doug drew his own saber, a silver hilt accompanied by a seafoam green blade. “Alright, let’s try sparring since you’ve got a general idea of it.”

Pongo looked up, a tentative grin on his face. “Are you sure? I mean -”

“Of course I’m sure.” The Harrier interrupted, “You were quick to learn the basics. See how similar it is to the longsword? Just use some of those same techniques, and you’ll figure things out as you go.”

Pongo blinked once, and the grin turned into a smirk. “Alright then. Ready?”

“You bet.”

Pongo barely gave any time for Doug to get a good footing. That was one of his strengths: his speed. In the first moments of the spar, Doug discovered that Pongo was taking his words of advice to heart. He was using a lot of longsword moves, though the lightness of the weapon gave it a bit of an edge. None of his strikes delivered the same punch as a longsword, but that was to be expected. After a while, Pongo stepped back, quick breaths escaping his parted lips.

“I can feel it. This is not as strong as my longsword.”

“But here’s the kicker that I think you might like,” Doug said, “The photon saber specializes not in offense, but in buffs. Healing teammates. Making sure your team stays up, even when you fall.”

Pongo’s eyes widened. “I...I want to be able to help my team. I always told myself I would help others by being strong -”

“And strength isn’t always everything. People have different skill sets, you know. And you handled that saber well for the first try, so maybe it’s worth coming back to it next session.”

He nodded. “If that is alright with you, then...yes, I want to learn how to use the photon saber.”

Pongo retracted the blade, gazing at the hilt for a moment before taking a step towards the weapons rack to put it back. He didn’t get far, however, when Doug heard Pongo’s comm device ringing. It had perhaps the most annoying ringtone on Mira. Stupid fucking nyan cat theme song, now Doug wouldn’t be able to get it out of his brain for the next hour.

Pongo took it out before Doug’s ears started bleeding and, eyes widening, said, “Oh goodness gracious, I am going to be late! Ah, thank you so much Dad, see you next week!”

He quickly placed the photon saber back on the rack and jogged off without realizing what he’d called Doug. The Harrier facepalmed.

Not again.

#xenoblade x #Again: Short Story #Doug

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ramblinganthropologist · 7 years

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Inkjournal Day 25 - Five Years from Today

Summary: It’s fall again in Denerim, and King Alistair finds himself waiting once again for Cahel to get his pumpkin spice fix. The more things change, the more they stay the same as the leaves change color and winter winds rush in. Truly, fall in Ferelden was wonderful; now if only his husband could stop stealing his goddamn hoodie. Setting: That Modern Dragon Age AU, Post Blight Word count: 1230

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Fall had come once again to Ferelden, as it always did. The leaves turned crimson and golden while they littered the ground with color, blown by the winds of winter showing their fangs. The days were beginning to grow short once more, so errand runners of all kinds hurried about the busy square in Denerim's main shopping district. Just one more errand perhaps until the night drew in and with it colder weather.

It would have been a beautiful sight if he wasn't so bloody congested.

Alistair sneezed into a napkin for what felt like the thousandth time that day alone. His eyes still burned, even with the drops in them. If not for the business he had later, it would have been allergy medicine and a nap for him.

Sadly, being the King meant he had to be awake and lucid; that was the price of wearing the stupid crown.

“What's taking him so long?” He frowned as he peered past the glass shop front, decorated with promotions and bright pictures of pumpkins. Starbucks was still fairly busy that time of day, but the line wasn't so long that it would take the time that it had. Had he run off or been intercepted?

Something warm pressed into the back of Alistair's neck, causing him to jump and turn. Maybe because he had spent the last five years ruling, but his reflexes weren't as sharp as they could have been. If that had been a knife, he would have been done for.

Luckily, it was just a coffee cup.

“Did I scare you?” Cahel was beaming as he handed over the offending article, gripping his own drink in his free hand. Once again, he had gone for what Alistair jokingly called 'a glorified coffee milkshake' rather than coffee at a bloody coffee shop. He was a weird one, no doubt about it.

But they were married, so he was kind of stuck with it.

The king pouted as he took a sip of his drink – his husband had remembered how he liked it. “I'm going to make it a law you can't do that, you know.”

“Oh and what's the punishment? Are you going to lock me in the dungeons?” Cahel snorted as he whirled on his heel, so his front was to Alistair. His eyes and tattoos so perfectly matched the sky, and the red of his hair was still in harmony with the leaves around them. He was made for fall, or at least his husband had realized that since their wedding day.

Now there was an idea... pity they were in public.

Alistair chuckled softly as he reached out to take the elf's hand. “Oh, don't start on that again. You'll have your mother believe you've got me tied to the rack when we're alone.”

“Hey, it got Eamon off our back last time he asked.”

Cahel's fingers were cold from his drink, but Alistair was more than happy to warm them up as they started their walk together. With how busy both had been, it was nice to get a bit of fresh air without anyone bothering them. If that included caffeine in the mix, all the better.

They stopped at a table under a tree, more the better for people watching. The elf still liked to perch on the edge of his seat as he slurped away at the magic that was pumpkin spice, and by now his husband had just grown used to it. It was one of his quirks.

“Can I have some of that?” Alistair reached out his hand towards it. When Cahel shifted it back, he added, “I promise just a sip.”

“Last time you said it you drank the whole bloody thing.” Still, he nudged it back over to allow the king to steal some. Really, the indirect kiss factor shouldn't have been a thing to them still, given they had been married for years. They could kiss whenever they wanted, and often did.

Still, both of their faces turned a pleasant pink, and it wasn't because of the sudden wind that churned up the leaves in front of them. Sometimes, it was just nice to be silly like that, especially when they were alone.

After a small amount of time, Cahel took back his drink. He scowled as he shook the plastic cup, listening as the remains of the magical pumpkin spice concoction sloshed against the sides. There was a lot of air there, more than there had been before.

“Creators, you drank like half of it!”

“I did not, you're making it up.” and yet Alistair had a little whipped cream on his nose to further hint at his dastardly thievery, a mark he made no effort to wipe away. When it came down to it, sometimes it was damn good to be the king.

Rolling his eyes, Cahel reached across the table to wipe the evidence off his nose. His allowed a slightly cheeky grin as he popped his finger into his mouth to lick it off, eyes practically sparkling. Motionless, Alistair couldn't help but think he was the luckiest man in Ferelden.

Well, apart from the allergies. Those sucked.

It would have been a perfect afternoon, but the sudden vibration of a cell phone drew the king's attention away from his prince. He sighed as he pulled it out of his pocket, grimacing once he realized who it was from.

“It's Eamon.”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

Alistair didn't, of course. Instead, he read the text he had been sent. Eamon needed him back for some last minute work, apparently crucial. On the Eamon scale of severity, that meant some mildly annoying paperwork that had to be done inside.

Great.

Sighing, the king stood up. “I better get back. You can stay here if you want; nothing says the both of us have to be miserable.”

However, Cahel joined him in the walk back to the castle, still sipping at the remains of his drink. Even after five years, he still used the sleeve of his over-sized hoodie to shield his hands from the cold. A very familiar hoodie, actually, now that Alistair looked at it.

Well, that explained where his Ferelden Mabaris sweatshirt had gotten to again.

“You know if you want I can get you your own.” He tugged on the hood for emphasis. His husband chuckled and swatted his hand away, breaking out into a light sprint until there was some distance between them. When he was safe, he whirled around to face him.

“I like this one. It smells like you.”

And then he was gone, heading back towards the castle at a fast pace. Well, two could play at that game. A grin stretched Alistair's face as he broke out into a run after the elf, kicking up leaves with every step.

Even though a lot had changed in five years, there were still some things the same. The leaves were beautiful, it was getting colder, and his husband was a bloody hoodie thief. Well, there would be plenty of kisses in punishment once he caught him.

Truly, he had to admit fall really was one of his favorite seasons, even if it did mean dying every morning. It wasn't perfect, but it was still pretty good.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing #Cahel Mahariel #Alistair Theirin #Warden x Alistair #That Modern Dragon Age AU

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solotheloso · 7 years

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A BOON BARELY GIVEN - CH. 1

I felt the beast’s breath as it roared, a blast of heat washing over me as if I were standing in front of a furnace at full blaze. A curious stench, too, one that stank like rotten fruit and the crackle of lightning. I stood my ground even as I was rocked onto my heels; showing weakness would be a very bad thing at this stage.

“Hold, beast,” I shouted, sternly. You had to be stern with these types, otherwise they were likely to pluck your limbs from their sockets if they thought you couldn’t do anything about it. The blue-white glow of this one’s eyes didn’t even flicker, and it heaved in another massive lungful of air. It was unimpressed and prepared to show it.

“Hold!” I bellowed, stamping my foot hard into the shredded asphalt for emphasis. It stung a fair bit, but I was rewarded for my act of frustration as the creature balked for a split second. It was just a moment, one tiny fraction of a second, but it was enough time for my mana to worm its way into it and hold it there. It let out its lungful in a hacking wheeze, then glared at me like I’d just pissed in its corn flakes.

“Relax, big guy,” I said. “I’m just here for parley.” I stepped around the creature in a slow circle, clockwise. It didn’t move, just followed the sound and sight of me with tilts of its head. This was part of it. Walking the circle was a decent form of binding for things such as this, a ritual as old as the shamans and mystics.

The beast– the aberrant, as it was rightly called– rumbled and shifted its enormous weight. “Parley?” it spat. “A thing such as you cannot parley with us!” Flickers of blue-white played across its eyes and down its stony body, ending at the tips of the giant monkey-like fingers that dug furrows into the parking lot.

I rolled my eyes. “I think the fact that we’re having this conversation proves otherwise.” A rolling of thunder. I thought for a moment it was the swelling clouds that had been gathering above the city all night, but it was just the aberrant emitting a deep stone-on-stone growl of what I assumed was intense hostility. I resisted the urge to gulp and tried my hardest to suppress my sweat glands. “The work is strong, large one, it’s a fair parley and you know it.”

It tossed its head like a bull and pawed at the ground in a frustrated gesture. It had no horns, but the pronged crown growing out of what served as its skull could certainly do the job of them, I was sure. “Speak!” it growled. “Let this be done!”

I kept my pace moving around the aberrant. That’s very important, they said, never release the circle until business is complete. “I understand that one of the shrines was destroyed recently. The one in old town, near the factory district.” It froze, its death glare settling into what I assumed was merely a contemplative gaze.

“What do you know of this?” it rumbled.

“Very little right now,” I admitted. “I only know of the incident, not the culprit or the method.”

“Then what?” It snorted and raised its eyes to the sky, tracing the clouds as they boiled and churned.

“It’s why your folk are on the prowl tonight, isn’t it?” I waved a hand vaguely towards the city proper. “I haven’t seen this many aberrants out and about since the murders back in ninety-four.”

It shuffled and slapped a huge palm against the asphalt. I felt the vibration through the soles of my shoes and imagined what something like that might do to my ribcage. “Why do you mention? Do you taunt us?!”

“No!” I said quickly. “I’m not taunting you. I’m making you an offer. I’ll find the one that did it.” It stopped shifting its weight and bared its teeth at me. They were as thick as my wrist and each one came to a dull point, reminding me of a big dog’s teeth. Not for cutting and slicing so much as for ripping and tearing. The teeth of a predator.

“What could you offer that we do not possess?” it said, scornfully. I raised a hand and ticked off fingers as I spoke.

“First, I found you in under three hours. From zero information to an exact position, and I don’t even have your name.” It blinked. “Second, you weren’t able to tear my head off the second you saw me. Third, I worked a barrier spell out of whole cloth just before I started this sentence and you didn’t even seem to notice.” The aberrant gazed at my feet, where a faint light shimmered wherever my shoes made contact with the ground. It snorted and tossed its head again, though this time the gesture felt less hostile than before.

“Acknowledged. You have skill and guile. But what have you to gain from this? From…” it seemed to move the words around in its mouth, as if they were unfamiliar. “…assisting us?”

I paused, considering my words carefully. This was the delicate part. I decided to go the honest route and hope for the best. “I want an animus.”

The creature recoiled and for a split second adrenaline flooded my body, as it looked like it was about to pounce like a giant cat and turn me into red marmalade. But it settled back a moment later, then started to emit a warbling crackle that I only realized was laughter after several long seconds of confusion. “You are bold!” it grated. “But why do you think we would give you this?”

“They might be rare for us, but for your folk they’re just a fact of… life? Existence? Being?” I shrugged. “Something like that. Anyway, I know you can give me one and I also know you would never do it for free.”

“We are not in habits of giving anything, soft child,” it snarled. It had ceased simply keeping its gaze on me and now started turning to follow me as I walked the circle. This time, it was I who lost their temper.

“Enough games, aberrant! You’re damn unlikely to find anyone else willing to do your dirty work for you, let alone able.” It gnashed its teeth as I continued. “I know you won’t make any headway without my help. I know what’s holding you back.” I delivered this last sentence with the emphasis one gives a hearty ‘fuck you’. Not the most diplomatic behavior, I know, but I’ve never been known for my impulse control.

I’m not sure if it was the content of my statement or the tone, but I thanked my lucky stars I’d kept walking, as the aberrant immediately bristled and slammed its stony fists into the ground, sending fragments of pavement and clods of dirt flying into the air. One struck my cheek at a bad angle, careening off and leaving nothing but a fleck of blood and a sharp sting behind it. I cursed, and without missing a beat I enacted my contingency plan. I reversed direction with an about-face pivot and began to walk counter-clockwise. Widdershins. This time I didn’t look at the aberrant, just focused solely on my feet and the yard of ground in front of me.

“How dare!” the creature shouted. I didn’t respond, just kept walking. There was a grinding sound. “You insult us! Cease your games!” I kept walking. The sound slowly grew louder and the nape of my neck began to tingle. “Stop!” it bellowed. “Stop now!” Left foot, right foot. The tingle became a burning that held the promise of a blaze. “Enough!” Something in its tone made me look up, and I saw the creature huddled against the ground, crushed downward a good three inches into the pavement by some unseen force; an unwilling supplicant.

“Enough,” it repeated, more softly. “Your point has been made. Your will is strong.” Satisfied, I turned again, resuming the clockwise path. A bead of sweat ran down my back and it took all I had to keep my knees from wobbling.

“I had no plans to do that”, I lied, “but I felt it necessary to impress upon you just how serious I’m being right now.” It only huffed in response and looked off toward the end of the street. Hell, did this thing have pride? I’d never known the aberrants to possess any more individual personality than was strictly necessary to serve their purpose. This was a new development. I continued.

“Like I said, I’m serious. I can do this, and I know you can hold up your end when I do.”

It looked back at me. Was it my imagination or was its expression just the slightest bit resentful? “You ask for something beyond your station, but…” it shook its head. “Yes. We will consent to this bargain.”

I let out an inward sigh of relief. “Then I need your name. To seal it.” It nodded and lifted a primate-like paw to press against its chest, where the sternum would be on a human. It spoke in a low monotone, barely more than a murmur but somehow it cut through the night air like a knife and I didn’t miss a single bit of it.

“Zhouku, sentinel of the Blessed Black,” it said. I finally stopped walking, almost reeling for a moment from the sudden dizzy spell that overtook me. I lifted a hand and pressed it over my heart and spoke as the sentinel had, pushing my mana into the words and thinking nothing else. I spoke the name that was mine and mine alone.

“Sam, usurper and mage of the bloody wind.” I watched it carefully for a moment, but it had no reaction beyond lowering its hand to the ground. We had sealed a bargain with our souls– or what served as our souls, in its case– so neither of us was concerned that the other would get violent. It just wasn’t how things were done.

“Sam,” it said, slowly. “Sam. If you know as much as seems, you know time is short in this matter, yes?” I nodded.

“I know. Until the essence of the shrine is restored, the whole construct is at risk.”

“Yes. And if the construct falls–”

“Things are gonna get weird.” It gave me a strained look. I shook my head and continued. “How long do we have?”

It shuffled slowly on all fours towards the entrance to the parking lot. I wasn’t fooled by its ambling pace. I had heard of how explosively fast its kind could move if they decided to. “With fortune? Until the new moon.” Before it faded from sight into wherever things like it go, it spoke one last time. “Be swift, Sam. If you cannot deliver to us, you will have no concern of seeing the consequences of the fall. We will have wrath for your slights.”

I shuddered and looked up into the night sky. The bright crescent of the moon peeked out between the clouds, casting a ghostly light over the abandoned parking lot.

Four days.

#writing #fiction #urbanfantasy #prose

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