20 – A Dire Situation Forces Alliances

The situation shifted so abruptly that Erika felt like someone had plucked her from one timeline and thrust her into another.

The Art and The Aeon abandoned their fights entirely. The former sprinted across the room, worm-like tendrils extending beyond her porcelain body to wrap around the wrist of the newcomer. Erika didn’t know if she had been trying to protect Rick, but she managed to grab the nude woman just before the woman grabbed a stunned Rick.

The Aeon ceased teleporting around with The Stalker and instead appeared directly at The Adjustment’s side. The Adjustment thrashed back and forth on the ground, alive, for now, but clearly in a great deal of pain; her spider-like legs lashed out at random, keeping The Aeon from rendering proper aid. The Stalker, realizing she was freed from her pursuer, immediately teleported behind The Art and aimed.

A flash of yellow erupted from The Stalker’s revolver, followed quickly by a bolt of violet. A sigil appeared behind The Art’s head, the same as what happened at the museum, but before it could pulse, the violet struck it dead on.

That slight delay was enough for The Art to fling herself aside, still clinging to the nude woman’s arm. Whatever sense she used to see must have encompassed the back of her head as well.

The yellow sigil and violet light shrank abruptly, tightening down to a bare pinprick.

All sound vanished, like it had been sucked toward the shot. There was nothing left, no distant sounds of sirens, no scuffle of fists and tendrils, no clatter of chitin against the ground. Erika couldn’t even hear her own breathing. It left Erika with a sudden feeling like she needed to pop her ears.

The sigil returned with force, sending a sudden cacophonous shockwave throughout the room. Bottles and glasses at the bar shattered, lights exploded, Rick went flying back—he landed just a hair away from The Adjustment—and the porcelain making up The Art’s body turned to sand.

The Art’s true form, a bundle of tangled worms all writhing together, collapsed on top of the nude woman.

“нⷩiͥiͥ,̓ hͪiͥiͥ,̓ hͪiͥiͥ…”

Erika shuddered, wondering what manner of being would laugh at being enveloped in something like The Art. The Fool struggling in her grip reminded her that she had a captive, earning himself a glare.

“You know who that is?” Erika hissed, glad that the sound had come back. “That woman with the tattoos.”

The Fool shook his head. It was almost imperceptible, but Erika felt the slight shake in her hand as she kept gripping his jaw.

Erika hesitated, flicking her gaze to The Warrior. The woman fiddled with her bandolier, as if she couldn’t decide what color shell to load into her shotgun. Michael was nowhere to be seen. Unable to take cues from either of them, Erika shoved The Fool away from her, pushing him toward the rest of his team.

He glared at her, eyes moistening as he tried to open his mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath that didn’t seem to help before he quickly spat out, “Sanatus.”

A strange, semi-translucent heart appeared before him. Not a Valentine’s heart, but the organ, complete with severed arteries and veins cropping off it. The oddest thing about it was the arms. It had arms capped with little, four-fingered hands. One of those hands reached toward The Fool’s face. It barely touched him before he silently waved his hand, pointing toward The Adjustment.

Figuring it was some kind of healing monster this time, Erika promptly ignored it and rushed over to Rick.

Anna was already there. Together, they helped him get back on his feet again.

It put Erika entirely too close to the thrashing worms that was The Art and the being in the middle of it all. The nude woman grasped at a fistful of worms and tore them apart again and again, each time with a giggle, but The Art never seemed to run out. Every few seconds, one of the worms would twist in on itself, forming into a sharpened needle that would plunge into some part of the woman’s body.

That just elicited more giggles as the woman tore The Art out of her arms.

“My sword,” Rick said, looking around in panic. “My—”

The sword popped into his hand, still sheathed. He let out a small sigh of relief before Anna yanked him back, away from a sudden swipe from the tattooed woman. Though it wasn’t aimed at her, Erika hopped back in the opposite direction, putting her closer to The Aeon, The Adjustment, and The Fool.

Flat, dead eyes poked out between The Art’s tendrils and the nude woman’s off-white hair. She stilled abruptly, ignoring The Art’s continued attacks as she stared at Erika.

“Foͦuͧndͩ yoͦuͧ.”

Erika threw herself backward as the nude woman lunged. She just about tripped over the prone form of The Adjustment. It was only The Aeon who stopped her from crashing into them.

The Aeon reached out, touching both The Fool and The Adjustment. All three turned to rapidly fading static, leaving just her, stumbling backward, and the woman.

And The Art.

Erika was fairly certain that if she had been punctured by so many tentacle-needles, she would be dead by now. The nude woman didn’t even care. She wasn’t even trying to rip The Art off anymore. Her eyes were locked on Erika, staring unblinking as her bare feet slapped against the ground in relentless advance.

Shoving her hand into her pocket as she hopped to regain her balance, Erika considered her options for a bare instant. She wasn’t quite sure where her bat had landed in all the chaos, which meant she wasn’t quite sure where to pull the bat from, but she knew where the arcade toolbox was. Erika started pulling things. She gripped a hammer in her right hand, but her left hand went in for a file—which she flung—a screwdriver—thrown as well—and a box of nails—tossed.

The file missed completely, flinging off over her shoulder where it shattered the ground on impact. The woman leaned slightly more into one step, pushing her more to the side, letting her dodge the screwdriver. A fissure erupted around the area it landed.

The nails sprayed out from the box mid-flight, filling the air with tiny, sharp spikes. The woman didn’t try to dodge. She swept a tentacle-covered arm through the air, swatting away the majority, but plenty more pinged off her. Each one forced her to stop, staggering her, but not enough. The ones that missed cratered the floor, but they didn’t cave in the woman’s face when one struck her in the dead center of her forehead.

There was something strange about this person. Something beyond the nudity and giggling. Erika’s mind immediately jumped to the idea that she was an Outsider. Something like The Fixer. When those nails struck her, it wasn’t like Erika wasn’t trying to break her. Yet there was some oddity, like she wasn’t exactly a part of the world, not bound by the same rules. The exploit Erika used to crack open whatever part of reality she desired simply didn’t exist within this woman.

It worked on her, evidenced by the stutter in her steps with each nail, but not to the degree Erika expected.

The woman took another step forward. Erika took a step back.

She wanted to turn and run, but something in the back of her mind, some little niggle of thought, warned her that if she turned her back on this creature, that fist would puncture through her chest this time.

Erika curled her fingers tightly around the hammer. If breaking the woman’s bones normally didn’t work, she would just have to try harder. She could break an iron fence. She could break a gold bar. She could break, without a doubt, the unbreakable glass that The Warrior had made. This thing in front of her might be partially outside the normal world, but the part of it that was here…

It was going to have a bad day.

Erika swung her hammer, wishing it had just a little more reach. The woman dodged, simply sliding to the side in time with her next step. Having paid attention to the way she dodged the screwdriver, Erika expected that and immediately swept the hammer back up and at an angle.

Erika’s hammer arced up, catching the woman’s wrist as she reached for Erika’s throat. The blow landed with a jarring, metallic thud—no shattering of bone, no familiar crunch. Her wrist snapped nonetheless. Erika intended for the effect to break her entire arm, shattering it as thoroughly as possible, but it stopped at one of the thick bars of her tattoos.

She stared at her limp hand, giggling once more. “Goͦoͦdͩ,” she said in that strange, dual tone, lips peeling back to reveal too many teeth.

Erika yanked back, twisting to avoid another sudden lunge. Long, sharp fingernails grazed the skin of her neck.

The only reason the woman hadn’t caught her was the tentacles wrapped between the woman’s legs, stopping her from taking a full stride forward. She looked down, face dropping to a blank scowl, as she ripped several of the worms off her body.

Erika didn’t let the distraction go unpunished. She stepped forward again, swinging down her hammer, aiming for the back of the woman’s bowed head.

The woman swept her broken arm up, knocking the hammer away without even looking. Her other hand, covered in black slime from the worms, latched onto Erika’s face, clamping down around her mouth and nose. Panic hit Erika as she tried to suck in a breath and couldn’t, only to break out of the grab with a hasty jerk of her head.

It wasn’t painless. Sharp, lancing pain streaked across her face as the woman’s sharp nails cut through her cheeks. Erika snarled, about to smash in her face with the hammer.

A blade speared through the woman’s chest, dark red blood dripping from its tip.

With a jerk, the blade jutted through even further. Erika flinched back as hot droplets of blood splattered against her face.

Rick stood just behind the nude woman. Erika had been so focused on her that she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings. He stood with his back straight and shoulders squared, sheath gripped in one hand. His expression wasn’t one of panic or agitation, but of calm, detached neutrality. Staring with a flat expression, he ripped the sword back, yanking the woman off balance, before slamming it down with one hand.

It struck just to the side of her shoulder, cleaving a gouge from her neck to her sternum.

Several of the worm-like tentacles flopped to the ground, squirming and writhing still. The woman, however, just stared down at the blade. It didn’t look like she could quite move her head properly, not with the blade slicing half through her, but she still didn’t scream or panic or act like she felt any pain at all. Rather, if there was any expression on her blank face, it was one of annoyance, like the sword wasn’t anything worse than a mosquito.

“нⷩiͥiͥ—”

Erika struck the side of the woman’s head with her hammer. Something felt like it broke, and the woman collapsed, unmoving. She didn’t know if the woman was alive and, frankly, did not care.

She had a slightly more concerning problem to deal with.

Rick, wrenching his sword out of the collapsed woman, stared at Erika with eyes that weren’t his own.

“Rick,” Erika said, voice hard. She didn’t take her eyes off him even as she took a slow, careful step backward. “Sheathe your sword.”

Erika didn’t know where The Eclipse had gone. The Art was still squirming over the unmoving body of the nude woman, but the others had vanished with The Aeon. They could be two steps behind her for all she had looked around. Similarly, she didn’t know where The Puppet was. All she could see was Anna in the corner of her vision, aiming the gun at Rick now. Given that Erika was so close to Rick and that the pistol had come from The Warrior—it was probably loaded with all kinds of strange effects—Erika hoped she didn’t fire it.

“Rick,” Erika said again, tensing herself to move. “Sheathe your sword. Or I’ll break it right now and we’ll have to hope that the curse doesn’t get stuck in you with it shattered.”

He seemed to be struggling. His left hand, the hand that held the sheath, trembled and shook. The corners of his lips twitched, and the muscles around his eyes tensed and relaxed repeatedly. For a moment, Erika worried he was having a stroke.

With a loud, guttural shout, Rick turned the sword toward himself and flung it into the sheath. Panting, he twisted the little welded clasps, locking the sword in place, before he dropped to his knees.

Erika rushed to him, reaching him just before Anna could. Together, they dragged him back, moving well away from the still unmoving body of the woman. They made it a good ten feet before Erika heard a voice behind her.

“Ignis.”

Erika turned with a scowl and a groan. The Eclipse had not fled the hotel after all. They were gathered together at the far end of the lobby, over near the bar. She couldn’t see The Adjustment, but The Aeon was crouched partially behind the bar, likely tending to her still. The Fool stood at the front, his formerly white clothes coated in a layer of debris and filth.

Interestingly, the molten rock monster reformed with its chest fully intact, but its arm was not. Several fingers were still missing, along with a chunk of its hand.

“Fool is a fitting title,” The Warrior shouted out before Erika could act. The Puppet hadn’t vanished either, it seemed. She leveled her shotgun at the rock monster. “You think I prepared only one spell capable of taking down—”

“нⷩiͥiͥ…”

Erika stiffened, turning back toward the nude woman, eyes wide. There was no way she survived having her head nearly cleaved off and Erika’s hammer cracking her skull, yet there she was, stirring, fingers twitching, breathing.

She wasn’t up. Not yet.

“Agent,” The Stalker called out before Erika could take a step toward the woman with her hammer raised. “Don’t move.”

Erika paused, trusting The Stalker for just a moment.

A large delivery-style van phased through the side wall of the hotel. Three steps forward, and it would have flattened Erika. It wouldn’t have phased through her. She could tell by the way it didn’t phase through the nude woman.

It slammed into the woman with a meaty thud, flattening her back against the ground.

The side door of the van slid aside. Erika didn’t know how Michael was already in there and, frankly, she didn’t care.

“Get in,” he said, speaking just as a bright flash of nuclear green light struck Ignis.

Erika didn’t need telling twice. She jumped inside. Anna practically threw Rick at her for her to haul in while Anna climbed in at the side. The Stalker teleported in, leaving a static copy of herself fading away in the middle of the lobby.

The Warrior, furthest away, simply turned her shotgun on herself. With a cocky grin, she pulled the trigger.

The Warrior popped like a balloon, reappearing in the passenger seat. She immediately leaned out the window, loaded a shell into her shotgun, and fired it at the hotel bar.

Erika didn’t get to see the effect of the off-blue light. The van was already in motion, pulling a tight one-eighty in the hotel lobby that no normal van could have managed. Michael slammed the side door shut just as The Warrior finished rolling up the window.

They passed through the wall of the hotel, emerging back on the street outside. Several cop cars were blocking it off, but they did nothing to stop the van as it careened forward. The cops themselves dove out of the way, their uniforms torn slightly like they had already done so once. A few loud pops pinged off the side of the van—gunfire—but nothing penetrated.

Of course not. This was some fancy thing The Warrior had made. If she could enchant a hotel window to stop bullets, a whole van she had enchanted at leisure wouldn’t be stopped by such a thing.

For a brief moment, Erika got an image in her head of The Warrior, dressed in a flowery sundress, sitting on her back underneath the van like some kind of mechanic.

Shaking her head, Erika leaned back against the van door. There were no seats in the back, just a few racks with a few guns on them. Rick was still shaking out the last tremors from his possession. Anna handed her gun back to Michael, unfired, before she sat down near Rick. The Strategist, as expected, was the one driving.

The Warrior leaned around the passenger seat, grinning widely. “Well,” she said. “Wasn’t that fun?” She half turned without waiting for an answer—probably knowing nobody was in a mood to give her one—and looked to The Strategist. “I need better taunts. The Fool is easy enough because, like, honestly? I know The Eclipse has traditionally taken and inherited names of tarot cards, but do they draw lots to see who gets stuck with The Fool?” she said with a cheerful laugh.

The Strategist didn’t respond. He stared straight ahead, concentrating on driving through a few other buildings. Likely to ensure they lost any pursuers who couldn’t ignore physical matter.

“Who was that naked bitch?” The Stalker asked, folding her arms with her gun still in hand, finger on the trigger. “Didn’t recognize her.”

“Never seen her before,” The Warrior admitted with a hum. “Did you recognize what kind of creature she is?”

The Stalker pursed her lips, glowering as she shook her head slowly. “No.”

“Was she like me?” Erika asked. “Or The Fixer?”

“No. I don’t think so… There was something weird about her.” The Stalker’s eyes shimmered as she looked back through the van, but her face twisted in annoyance.

“You didn’t recognize her either,” The Warrior said, ignoring The Stalker to address Erika. “I could see it in your eyes.”

“No, but I know she’s with The Mummy,” Erika said. “She was there for me. They have some way of tracking when I break things. It hasn’t been a problem in the past, at least so long as I left the area quickly, but we weren’t there that long after I started. Maybe she was just in the area.”

It seemed… convenient. Too convenient, even. Erika was thinking back, trying to remember whether she had broken anything else prior to the fight starting. She had pulled out the kitchen knife, but that sort of thing hadn’t been tracked before. Or… it had been tracked, but nobody had acted on it to keep her unawares that they could.

That thought disturbed her.

But even then, it would have only been about ten minutes in advance of the fight starting. So either they were getting faster, or they were starting to track her when she wasn’t doing anything.

Either case didn’t sound good.

“I need to talk to The Fixer,” Erika muttered.