Patricia Wilson
Stories
10
Chapters
3,347
Words
163.4 K
Comments
0
Reading
13 h, 37 m
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Truth raced down the highway on his stolen iron horse, scarf wrapped over his face, demon perched on his shoulder. The sky burned red, as the war he started raged below it. He was responsible for the sky too- the volcanic eruption he set off was vomiting ash into the air and blotting out the sun. A good beginning, but only a beginning. Before the apocalypse really got rolling, he had one more head to take. King Rat. The Most Powerful Man In The World. He would kill Starbrite. A few slight problems there.…-
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The Shattervoid swarmed around their lost girl- uncles and cousins the size of mountains and rivers. Aunties who stepped between the stars. Brothers? Sisters? Sibs of the sea of stars? Truth had lost sight of Sally. He must still be within her, he knew, but it felt like he was standing in the void. Awkward as a work friend at a family reunion. Worse- the family didn’t speak his language. Or, rather, he didn’t speak theirs. He could feel the conversation more than hear it. Pulses of cosmic energy that…
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The High Level glared at him. The base was shaking steadily now. There were booms coming from upstairs, and the walls were shaking. He could smell the sulfur reek. Was it getting hotter? “The Hell do you think that actually achieved? We tattooed restrictions directly on her. Fuck it. Playtime is over.” The old lady pulled an amulet, obsidian, mirror polished and etched with orichalcum spell formulae. Incisive screamed a warning and Truth rushed her, firing as he went. The needles bounced harmlessly…
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For once, it wasn’t the fault of Truth’s horrible education. He just didn’t think. There was a lot going on. The sulphuric gas, heated to some five hundred degrees, wouldn't combust without oxygen. He knew that but had forgotten it for the moment. So Truth ripped open a base full of fresh, cool air without wondering what would happen if he did. The boiling hot gas jetted into the base, hit the cold, oxygen rich air, and exploded. Truth didn’t even get a chance to see what was in the room before…
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There was a sticky feeling to the moment. A second that stretched past all normal bounds, tugged long by fear and lucid madness. Taffy time, glued to a fool’s fingers. Truth had no idea what the hell was going on with the phoenix. Not one clue. Nothing good, if the whole base was He called Cup and Knife into his mind. This was wrong. This was so wrong. This was an utter perversion of how the world was supposed to be. Even if you thought that God took this world from demons and gave it to humans,…
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The maintenance crew was fighting now, all against all. Crude, clumsy swings. The suits were stifling, like trying to fight underwater. It must have been a nightmare. Can’t see. Can barely feel. Danger everywhere. Everywhere. Can’t run- job’s not done, and this is Starbrite. You get the job done, no excuses. And then the Phoenix, screaming. Shaking the poison air with its cries. They fell over. Their suits were built to resist the heat, to withstand abrasion. But this much heat? Deliberate…
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Truth watched the squad of workers going into the tunnels on the scrying mirrors arranged on the supervisor’s desk. The supervisor wasn’t keeping a close eye. This operation happened several times a day, every day. Not much to see after the eightieth or ninetieth time. Trut was watching eagerly. He didn’t know anything about what was going on out there. As they marched through the gate, he spotted one bump into another, shorter, one. The shorter one violently recoiled and the body language got very…
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Truth looked over the ritual space. After careful examination, looking closely at the micro-engraved gems, the achingly precise line arrangements, the Enochian cyphers written into the floor then filled with mythril; after a detailed forensic examination he reached a firm conclusion. In his defense, he consoled himself, there were clearly big pieces missing. There were several engraved circles, squares and triangles where things were clearly intended to be placed. Whatever wound up slotted in there would…
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Truth had an unusual problem. Well, he thought it was unusual. It hadn’t ever come up for him before, but maybe he was underestimating the challenges faced by other people. He nodded to himself, as he wedged himself up into the corner of the wall and the ceiling, relying on his inhuman strength and conditioning to hold him in place. Yes, other people had their own struggles, their own burdens. Who was he to assume what problems they did and did not face? Perhaps this was just one of those questions…
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Truth crouched like a gargoyle or a particularly malevolent pigeon or perhaps just an over-ambitious rat, on the metal gantry over the Prototype Lab. The Shattervoid girl was laughing now, an awful sound in his head. He wondered just what those curse tablets were doing to her. If it could be worse than five years of abuse, isolation, fear. Pain. Twelve years old. When he was twelve… Well, when he was twelve he was trying to haul scrap out of the canal, running errands, hiding in trash from gangsters…
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