The first time I met the Shoemaker, I’d just killed someone. He saw it all. Saw how quickly, how cleanly I did it. He said he wasn’t sure he cared or not until he saw why. Not much later, he was standing in front of me. He told me to follow him back to exactly where I’m standing now. Said if I really wanted to help people, he could help me do that.
I’ve been working with him ever since.
Today is a lot like the first day I met him. He analyzes everything. Sees things I can’t. Beneath the microscope, magnifying glass, or just the perspective of his intellect, there are ways to rebuild the world. Or so he claims. I just bring him what he needs. But that’s all business as usual, and something about today is off. I can tell. Something in his eyes. I just don’t know what, and I also can’t tell if he’s getting annoyed by my questions.
“Not a physicist, but maybe an engineer or something?” I probe.
He grins, then moves to the next broken cellphone I managed to find. With the same practiced precision, he takes it apart, removes what’s useful, then moves on after coughing a few times. Probably from all the dust in here.
“Downtown is getting more dangerous for you,” he changes the subject while analyzing some circuit boards I brought in.
Something about me today led him to that. Observant as ever. “What gave that away?”
“Three knives on you. You always carry four. You had to give one up to keep them away from you.”
Makes sense. Good deduction too. I would’ve taken it back from the man its currently buried in, but it was in an artery of his. It needed to stay there if he wasn’t going to bleed out.
“Can you make me a new one?” I ask, hoping what I’ve brought is worth the trade to him.
He nods, pulling open a drawer behind him in the dim storage room. “I have a few on hand. Take the one you need.”
Nice. Especially since our interactions haven’t moved far past functional. Neither has our exchange of materials. He’s never offered me weapons before. I thought it was because of how he’s seen me use them, but my informal “partner” isn’t known for being the giving type either. Then again, he’s not known for much beyond his title. The rest is all rumors.
I move through the musty shelves and counters that serve as his workshop to the rusting toolchest and find what I’m looking for among the collection. It’s even better than the one I lost. Sharper too. I tuck it into the sheath at my left side.
“Still no chance of you relocating?” I pose after watching him discard some rechargeable batteries I thought might be useful.
He scratches at the gray stubble on his face, then offers a simple shake of the head. Thought as much. He’s got too much going for him here, but he wasn’t wrong before. Downtown is only getting worse. Just like in all the other cities. Me coming to see him is getting harder, so is bringing him goods of the old world, and now he knows it just from one missing knife. Probably why he’s so generous with this trade from his private stock. He needs to outfit his runner. And if I need outfitting, I’m assuming he needs something. I’d offer to bring him other supplies, but he always seems to have what he needs to survive. My perception of the dangers he faces are irrelevant. I just hope they stay that way as long as he and I are working together.
“When will you be leaving?” he asks next, having neatly sorted what he’ll use and what he won’t.
I shrug, then unsling my pack and take stock of what I have. Canned food, not sure what it is. Enough for a few days. A few canteens of purified water. Some jerky. My weapons. Twelve rounds left in my pistol mag. Not nearly as many as I’d like, but it’ll have to do. Hatchet. Some extra clothes and poncho. It all stinks. Sweat, blood, and mold. After I sort my equipment, I look up to see him standing over me crinkling his nose. I guess human odor is a bit more potent than the mildew and dust he’s surrounded by in this place.
He turns and motions for me to follow. “Come on.”
This is new. “What’s up?”
No answer. I just follow him deeper into the compound he keeps. Dimly lit, shelves upon shelves of assorted electronics and mechanical looking things. Small metal pieces with slots, some constructed into shapes, some not. I smell oil. Chemicals. Heated metal like a machine shop or garage. He moves to a beam and flips a switch when we’ve moved into a particularly dark section. More lights reveal what I already smelled. The underground area continues farther than I thought. A lot farther. Skeletons and frames of different vehicles line the area.
Why is he showing me this?
I keep following him through his collection until we get to a smaller, concrete nook that curls back to the main storage area. In it I see some rusty pipes coming from the floor with knobs. They curl overhead into a spout.
Is that...?
“You stink,” he tells me. “I can smell you from ten feet away.”
I haven’t had a shower in years. Mostly rivers and lakes for me and hardly ever any soap. As I keep inspecting the nook in wonder, I don’t even notice he’s disappeared until his footsteps shake me from my wonder. He puts a clean towel and a bar of soap on the floor.
“Just this. Nothing else. Don’t wonder off and let me know when you’re done.”
“Understood,” I answer with open gratitude, not wanting to do anything that might get this gift taken back. But... “Just tell me why.”
He starts walking away, coughing as he does. “Anyone can smell you coming if they’re downwind. I need you alive.”
Touching. I even chuckle at the answer. Function over everything else. He’s consistent. I take a moment to consider what he might try to do when I’m naked in this compound of old-world relics, deciding it’s best to keep my gun near me. Maybe my knives too. I don’t think he’ll try anything, but it’s best not to chance that. Even in the age before the shutdowns I didn’t take risks with guys. Not ones I didn’t trust.
Do I even trust him? He did give me a knife...
A shower is too tempting to pass up. I sort my things, strip down, then turn on the left nozzle. The shower sputters a few times, pipes groaning. Then the water comes out steady and cold. I turn the nozzle on the right, the pipes groan again, and then...
Holy shit, the water is actually warm. Hot water...He’s got hot water. For a moment, I wonder what other marvels and lost luxuries he’s got in here, but then I’m too swept up in relief and sensation to care. I start splashing it all over, watching in amazement as layers of dirt, grime, and old blood start to melt off of me. And then there’s the soap, my God, the soap. I haven’t smelled like flowers or whatever this is in over a decade. It takes me back to what things were like before the pandemic. Before the lockdowns. Before the Exees. Before everything when it was all so much simpler.
All that from a shower and a bar of soap. I think I stay in there for an hour as I lose track of time, but if the Shoemaker cares, he doesn’t let me know it. I’m left alone until my skin starts to wrinkle. The nook is full of steam, and I’m feeling better than I have in years. I have to make myself leave. When I gather my things, I realize my clothes are missing.
Shit...
But why are my weapons still here? Same with my boots and pack. Poncho too. And why are there...
The new clothes are almost the same color as my old ones. Olive green cargo pants, black hoodie, denim t-shirt that’s a loose fit like my original. The socks are new. Wool. Actual wool, and I’m growing more amazed by the second.
What is this guy up to?
“I’m not coming around the corner until you get dressed,” he calls from somewhere in the compound.
“Where’s my stuff?” I call back.
“I’m washing it. Is there something else you need?”
I’m drying myself off and sorting through the pile of clothes with my foot before I answer him. When I see there’s no underwear, I’m a little annoyed. Not that my old set was anything special, but it was still something.
“Where’s my bra and-”
“I didn’t know your size or...preference.”
That gets me to stop dressing myself. “You got everything else right.”
No answer this time. This is awkward for both of us. I’m about to shout another question when I hear him coughing again. This time it doesn’t stop. It gets worse. I put on everything else and sling my weapons over me and start moving toward the sound of the coughing.
It doesn’t take me long to find him. The fit subsides a bit after I get there but he’s still leaning on the fender of the one of the trucks in this warehouse or whatever it is. There’s pink froth at the edges of his mouth he’s trying to wipe away. Below him is a pile of women’s underwear. I’d laugh, but the urgency of his condition kind of overrides my sense of humor.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles.
“Uh huh,” I answer as I start sifting through the pile of underwear, taking what I need so we can both avoid that awkwardness. Then I stand up and move toward him.
“Let it be,” he waves me off. “Nothing you can do about it anyway.”
“You going to tell me what’s going on?”
I catch a glimpse of the crimson on the back of his hand he wipes behind his back. “You already know.”
I barely know him, but I find myself sad at the news. What’s wrong with him? The fact that he thinks there’s nothing I can do about it means he knows something I don’t, and that it’s bad. He knows I can’t help him, which means I can’t help his condition, but given how generous he’s been, he wants me to help him somehow related to our usual business.
“You need medicine,” I conclude, drawing a nod from him. “What kind?”
“You’re volunteering?”
I shrug. “Just paying you back, if anything. You’re being pretty giving today, and I think that’s got something to do with this. Everything else has to do with something you haven’t told me.”
He grunts, but nods, then gathers up the pile of underwear and starts moving back toward the main storage area. “Meet me when you’re ready.”
Solace
We lived as sparks, cast upward by fire’s neglect.
Dancing.
The vibrancy of our steps alive.
Shadows between a thousand candles.
And as the radiance faded, the ash floated away, caught by reckless winds.
Into eternal skies of cold and night.
The reaching arms of frost ensnared our feet.
We fought both wind and ice, and in that conflict we remained.
Embattled.
Embittered.
Until new life emerged from our weary souls, and dust became breath.
The winds of our past howled.
The light of our future days called.
Into the darkest depths we went, and there found serenity.
A tranquil release within nothing.
And everything.
A Thing Between Gamers
So the title says it all. If you’re not a gamer, I apologize as some things might be lost in translation. But having said that and getting to the point, I think we’re all coming to recognize the relevance our digital interactions can have in this age of a pandemic and prolonged isolation. So if you fancy a tale, sit down, grab a drink, and hear me out. This is a story about gamers, written for fun by a gamer, but also because I think the human elements at play are very much worth recognizing. Especially now. You never know when something as seemingly mundane as a successful raid is going to mean a lot more than you’d expect.
To start off, some context. Mission: a three-part raid. (Group of gamers cooperating to complete a series of objectives that range from time trials, combat arenas, navigation puzzles, and group coordination tasks.) Previous attempts: part one successful on several occasions. Part two: one previous attempt. Three hours of effort that resulted in failure. Had to quit right before the end. No rewards. Nothing. Bad taste in mouth.
Fuck.
But after a break, I wasn’t going to give up, even though I was really frustrated at a time where life was already speedbagging my nuts, figuratively speaking, and I think I’m not alone in that situation after last year. I wanted to wind down and just enjoying gaming again. I got off work early the night the events I’m about to detail took place. Time to give it another go. I sign on.
This instance starts off like any other. Got a group of dudes who are cool. We communicate, help each other out with some tips. Going great. First section done within minutes. I like these guys, we got this. Then we get to the second section. A bit of a puzzle but also a combat section where two of the group need to hold their position against strong enemies. Bring it on. I’m playing tank. I love being on the front lines and get all giddy whenever the objective is “hold the line.” This is my jam. Obviously there are more elements at play, but I’ll deal with them after I get done giving computerized enemies lobotomies with my katana.
Leeeeroooooy!
First attempt at the second section and we’re crushing it. Then one of our group disconnects.
Fuck again.
This sucks because it means we can’t progress. You need four players to pull this raid off. Getting frustrated and thinking I’ll never beat this thing. But cue Bonnie Tyler because one of our group sends out a mass invite and a hero answers the call. Now’s when things get interesting.
See, most of the time, the group would have just disbanded and started over. We would’ve wasted maybe twenty minutes, so no big deal, but I’m taking note of how my two remaining party members are staying with it. They’re cooperating. They’re helpful. And each one communicates in their own way efficiently and with intention. We want to get this done, and dare I say, we’re enjoying gaming with each other. Now we’ve got a fourth, and I’m smiling when I hear him and his friend riffing with one another, then bring me in on the jovial introductions. I realize it’s going to be a good night.
Time for some more context, and some made up names for identity protection purposes...
First one: Mango. He’s our assassin. Been talking with me throughout, been patient, cool, and cooperative. Always looking out for me as I dive into groups of enemies like the Batman I suspect he his. Knows his stuff and is here to get the job done. Plus he has group vanish, so I’m already a fan. But the biggest thing is I’m enjoying the teamwork, so hell yeah Mango, I’ll happily drop smoke bombs that let you one-shot the brutes we’re fighting. Get some.
Second: Scorpion. Our support. The one who’s always there for you like your favorite drink after a rough day or watching little kids fall off bikes. It feels like he heals the soul as well as my virtual avatar when I’m about to die. Strong silent type too. He doesn’t have a mic, but he uses the gestures, emotes, and pings available in ways that are easy to understand and help us out. Clearly this ain’t his first rodeo, and the enemies that go near him pretty much evaporate from the bombs and combos he uses. Nice. Hell yeah for gamer Moses. He knows what to do and where to go when we don’t. Also, Scorpion, if you read this, for narrative ease, I’m just assuming you’re a guy. Sorry if you’re not or don’t identify as such.
And the one who answered the call, the third member of my group: Oni. Comes in cool as a cucumber and ready to throw down. Runs assassin too and keys in on me when I tell him I’ve got smoke bombs to help him out. And then the jokes and one-liners start coming from him like Deadpool and I’m laughing as much as I’m playing as we do a one-two combo of back-to-back super abilities and take out a whole group of enemies. Fuck yeah, be the lethal cheese to my macaroni, Oni.
With our team reassembled, we all breathe a sigh of relief as we’re able to continue. Or stand stoically in Scorpion’s case but I think he did the sigh too. Nice. And as previously mentioned, things are going great. We get each other’s movements, know each other’s cues, and beat the second section on the first try with our new roster. Fiancé is upstairs doing freelance, gamer cat is in position on my lap as he knows I’m going to be here for a bit.
Hell yeah I’m going to be here for a bit. It’s gonna be a good night.
So we move on. We get the bonus objectives along the way, and suddenly I’m in flow. In my zone, and just enjoying myself for the first time in a long time. Even when we get to the parts that take us a few tries since we have to coordinate so much. Nothing a little trial and error didn’t fix, but we learn more about how the others operate too, so we’re still gaining ground. And we get a few laughs along the way from things like me realizing my lack of explanation made Oni jump to his death on one occasion.
My bad, Oni. My samurai poured one out for you while we waited for the instance to reload.
Before I know it, we’re at the final section. This time without the massive headache that came with the last attempt I made, and in record time comparatively to my last effort. It’s looking good, and then I’m prompted to ask the question:
“Have you guys done this before?”
I already knew Scorpion’s answer. The way he was destroying enemies was one thing, but he led us to every bonus objective and shows us tricks along the way all without saying a word.
Gamer Moses leading his Israelites across the desert. Or the Gorge of Shadows, in this case.
But I asked Oni and Mango anyway because I was hearing their remarks and observations as we got closer to the end. They talked about how cool the environment was, recounted previous attempts of their own, and then prompted my inquiry when they said they’d never gotten past part two of the raid.
They said no.
In some situations, others might have huffed in annoyance at that. Oftentimes, it’s not fun taking someone with no experience through a complex section of a raid. But none of us did. We were all lost in the excitement of our teamwork and reaching a new level of the game. So now I realized something pretty cool: those three hours I spent before that ended in frustration weren’t wasted after all. Despite how agonizing it was to learn from repeat failures and have my patience tested when I was already mentally taxed from outside influences, I could at least help these guys out now by sharing the knowledge I’d gained through those failures.
My samurai’s thirst for revenge was rivaled only by his desire for redemption. We’re gonna beat this thing tonight. Here we go, Wan. (I call my samurai Wan.)
So a quick briefing, some time for some Q and A, and then we’re off. Mango and I start off doing our part while Scorpion and Oni hold the line. A little trial and error again as we all get the ropes, and even for me as I forget to explain certain elements to Mango and Oni, so we have to start over. No worries there. They’re all patient with me and learning fast, Scorpion is just as stoic and eager to keep going, and we’re all still laughing and having a good time. Then we’re all in the groove. Doesn’t matter that we have to retry a few times because we’re enjoying ourselves so much.
“Is anyone else afraid to let go of the climb button?” I ask as my samurai reenacts Cliffhanger by dangling from a grappling hook above an endless chasm of death. We all chuckle and agree.
“Fuck you, fat boy!” Oni laughs as he drops a brute right in front of me with a degree of enthusiasm I’d thought was reserved only for someone listening to a Queen song. Mango and I have a good laugh.
And one of my favorite lines...Say it again for me, Mango...
“Vanish is up.”
And now I know whatever we’re doing is going to be a cakewalk as we turn invisible and ghost past enemies. Wan has time to take a pull from his sake gourd. Fucking right, Mango.
Meanwhile, Scorpion drops his one-thousand, five-hundred and thirteenth kill. Not actual numbers, but holy shit he’s basically a blender of death as the limbs and blood of our enemies go flying, all while healing us with his class abilities. I like to think he’s laughing too, listening to us.
A few more attempts, lots more laughs, and some more intense moments as our characters are all surrounded by enemies and fighting for our lives to carry one final crystal obelisk to its designated spot, and then: boom. Done. Elation and virtual high-fives all around as Mango, Oni, and I all cheer at our latest accomplishment and Scorpion plays his virtual flute, dooting a victory tune. A triumph of perseverance. A testament to teamwork. A victory for the human spirit.
OK, maybe we can’t go that far, but the world of Covid sucks and we all need our small victories.
So then we’re in the lobby again, everyone still laughing and having a good time, talking about the loot drops that we got and lamenting how they weren’t the ones we were looking for. RN-Jesus (Random Number Generator, but RN-Jesus sounds funnier) just wasn’t feeling generous, but hey, you don’t need good loot drops when you had that much fun. And we’re all gabbing away about how we can’t wait to try the third section. Maybe not tonight, but man, that’s gonna be awesome.
Then Scorpion readies up after changing his character. We all recognize it at the same time. He conveys it without saying a word. The confidence...He wants to keep going. Moses has another tablet for us to read, and it says, “we’re doing this thing.”
It’s getting late, but I can’t help it. I have to ask. “You guys want to do this tonight?”
“It’s not midnight yet, so hell yeah,” Mango is first to answer followed by Oni’s emphatic agreement.
Fuck. Yes. Saddle up, my dudes. I’m ready to rock.
“Confirm you’re ready?” the game asks.
Is that even a question? The loading screen is already fading and we’re all charging through the giant gates of the final boss.
“Kill an angry-ass bitch,” Oni states our objective. “Got it.”
That’s exactly the kind of pre-battle speech I needed. Man, I’m having fun.
This time around, I only have the knowledge of what I’ve seen from guides. After the three hour debacle of my first attempt at part two, I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes heading into part three. Still, knowledge doesn’t exactly equate to experience, and there’s a bit of a learning curve as we make our initial attempts. Where to stand, what to do, what not to do, what enemies to prioritize. And all the while, we’re trying to support Scorpion as he acts like our Achilles and basically goes one-man-army, taking the fight to the final boss, one on one. He’s patient enough with us as we fail a handful of times. Brief messages are sent offering instruction and we keep improving, and then we’re back in our groove.
Then...A player has disconnected...
Fuck. No way did that just happen.
Scorpion is gone. I try frantically to take up the reins and go do what he was doing. We try our best, but we end up failing the instance, then face the reality that we’re on our own at the very last phase of the whole thing. I’m thinking of what we can do, which friends I might be able to invite that can help us. Only then do I realize none of them have gotten as far as I have so they can’t join, and short of sacrificing gamer kitty to the gamer gods, I’m running out of options.
Oh...wait...Scorpion has reconnected. Well that changes things. Gamer kitty gets to live another day. Close call.
“I got him,” Oni tells us, and I’m pretty sure we’re all smiling ear to ear at that point. Smooth move, Oni. Way to be on the ball.
Here we go. I’m holding my position. Mango tells me what’s coming and where to focus my attention. Oni tells me when Scorpion is away to do his thing, and I lend support across the way as much as I can between taking down enemies on my end. The boss’s health bar is chipping down. Switch sides. The enemies are getting stronger, but so are we. Health bar at its last few millimeters. We all make our shots, land our strikes, and then...
Final cinematic rolls and Mango and Oni are cheering. Thing is, I’m not, because I watched the guide and know there’s one more phase to this thing so we’re not out of the woods yet.
“Final damage phase,” I tell them. “We gotta find the boss, then take her down with a whole bunch of enemies around.”
No hesitation from Oni or Mango. They’re refocused and ready to go. We’re not losing this thing now. But...holy shit that was cool just getting this far! And we’re all still laughing because of it.
Then it’s up. An army of enemies is between us and the final boss, and with the same panache I would expect of him at this point, Scorpion is leading the charge. I’m right behind, Oni and Mango next to me. Before I can do anything, Scorpion is using his ultimate ability, and I’m watching him take chunks the size of Montana out of our target’s health bar.
Scorpion, you beautiful bastard. Should I have expected anything less?
We all focus on his position. Target acquired.
I drop a smoke bomb for coverage to give us time to end this thing, trying to build up my ultimate so I can follow Scorpion’s lead. We all land a surprise attack on the target because of it, and holy fuckknuckles, the massacre that follows is something Jason Vorhee’s would be proud of. It looks like that scene from Game of Thrones season 6 (when things were still good) when Meister Pycelle gets jumped by the group of kids all armed with shanks, except now it’s fully grown samurai and assassins with swords stabbing away with glee as we go full, completely necessary overkill to beat the raid.
Pack your bags, boys. War’s over. Mission accomplished.
We’re all cheering and congratulating each other. Each of us is making our characters bow to each other and play the victory doots on our digital flutes. We’re talking and laughing and all the while, we don’t have a care in the world as we get our loot, some of which is actually useful this time. Thank you RN-Jesus! I got me a souvenir to remember the raid by. And as we continue to chat and bask in the glow of victory, we all got some new digital friends out of it too. We add each other on our lists, saying how we’re going to run through the hardest challenges together next, and I’m sincerely hoping we do. Alas, all good things must come to an end, and Mango is the first to say he’s gotta hit the hay. But that’s a good idea. The timing is perfect and we won. We sign off and look forward to the next session.
It’s back to reality. And I’m not going to end this story with some cheery moral like “the friends you make along the way” or something trite like that. I think Oni, Mango, Scorpion, and I share similar thoughts on that. We may never meet each other, but it would be cool if we did. We may never game together again, but it would be awesome if this became a regular thing. We’re gamers. We get it. Especially in a world that’s becoming more digitized as a pandemic and technology roll along.
What I think makes me want to write this and reflect on the experience is the stuff that’s unsaid. Scorpion, Mango, and Oni didn’t know I spent a three hour effort before trying and failing to do something for fun and ended up getting frustrated for it. They didn’t know that before that, I’d been seeking outlets for the building depression and anger in my life, and when reading and writing didn’t help, I turned to video games with mixed results. They didn’t know about how my career had effectively been destroyed by the pandemic, that I’d spent the last nine months trying to rebuild a broken training enterprise and was still trying to do so to little avail. None of them knew about the wedding my fiancé and I had to postpone along with plans for starting our life together as we reconciled losing a whole year to circumstances outside of our control. They didn’t know about the shootings in our neighborhood that we had to shelter from and still do since that’s just kind of a regular occurrence where we live. They didn’t know about all that stuff and how it’s been building up to levels that have actually compromised my health. Few people do.
And I didn’t know how much I needed a win, even if it was something as simple as beating a raid with a group of strangers.
Kind of funny how the smallest things can shift your perspective, even if for a moment. Thankfully, as I climbed into bed with my fiancé and she cheerfully told me she’d finished all of her projects, I got to have another moment of gratitude and mutual happiness with her as we both relished in the joy of our respective endeavors. Despite everything else going on, I started counting the things I was grateful for, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to say I did that because I was given something to remind me of each and every one.
Yeah. I really needed that win. I really needed that experience along with the many others like it I can recall now that I’ve been given a good reason to. And as I do, I start to remember who I’ve shared it with and how much I appreciate them. Family, friends, a group of random gamers.
So...Cheers, my dudes. Thank you. That was one hell of a night and I’m looking forward to the next one. I hope this isn’t getting too sentimental, but I am a writer. I guess I have to explore all elements of humanity from time to time. Trust me, my friends, most of whom are in D&D groups with me, get it and I appreciate them for tolerating it. But hey, this little story, that tolerance from my friends all brought on by a hobby we love...I’d like to think we get it. It’s a thing between gamers.
After another weekend away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, I spent some time doing some "fun" writing as I like to call it. Most of the time, it's just me writing because the voices need to be heard. Or escape, at the very least. It helps me center my thoughts and focus on what I really want to write, or provides material I can reference or use later. I think I have archives of the stuff piled up over the years. It's amazing how often I go back to it when I remember that little nugget of something I wrote that I'd really like to put into whatever the current piece is.
Confluence Origins...I'll be working on the title if this is something I find worth actively pursuing. If nothing else, it's good to be thinking of the next project while querying and submitting proposals for Confluence itself. There's certainly a story to be told there. What kind is what I'm trying to figure out at the moment. Till then, there are long walks in the snow, good books to read, and experiences to help me find the voice for it.
Wishing you health and safety as always, dear reader.
It's my wonderful fiancé's birthday, and though we go about our normal, weekly routines, I thought it worth mentioning. Always supportive, ever helpful, she's the best partner I could ask for, so I think it worth mentioning to any reading this what an amazing person she is. Happy birthday, babe!
But while we count down the days to the weekend getaway I've planned for us, I reflect on my writing and the particular itch to keep doing so that's arisen since submitting my novella. The desire to craft another story, another adventure...I can't be stifled long. And as I go about submitting my novel, I think about the next project that might be worth such efforts. I can never stop. I don't think I could if I wanted to. And as F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, "you don't write because you want to say something. You write because you have to say something."
I'm still on my journey to writing the next work that will truly inspire. As always, thanks for being with me along the way. I'm going to keep brainstorming on the next idea.
Nothing new to report at this time. I've been gifted with an easy day while a snowstorm passes through my area. I've always liked the feeling of knowing I can be safe and warm inside while the snow flies outside. Then again, I've always been partial to winter. It exudes a sense of tranquility and stillness to me. Both are things I feel we need more of in our lives, so busy do we find ourselves with the activity of daily routines and in the case of recent months, survival.
More submissions to make and a birthday for my fiancé to plan for in the meantime. Much to be grateful for. I hope you're reading this from a place of equal contentment and safety, dear reader. Further bulletins as events warrant.
It would be so easy.
I’d heard many say they thought the same thing to themselves just before acting. The thought was followed by regret for those that survived the deed, though Confluence has a myriad of ways to ensure the act is permanent. Even Allos have found their reasons and methods. Now I wrestle with mine.
I never used to do this in Heaven. Now...Here...
It’s different.
The bite of the knife makes me feel. The cuts are better. Preferable. Physical pain I can stand. It’s the stuff within that’s so much harder. The voices in my head telling me I have nothing left. That I should just let it all go.
It would be so easy.
Three cuts tonight. Better than most after a day when I’ve lost someone on my watch. Normally I’d have done eight, but I know this isn’t a healthy practice. Especially with where it leads. The cuts are perfect and deep thanks to the refined alloy. Much easier than the steel I’ve used in the past. So much easier.
I’m watching the waves lap at the shore. Watching, wondering, waiting. I’m not sure for what. Part of me wants to throw myself into the depths of the Crimson Sea. Let it end that way. But for some reason that doesn’t seem as preferable. Not as noble, maybe. Or as quick. Then my mind jumps to a different thought, but a laser seems too abrupt. One quick swipe of the plasma sword would be just as effective, but that’s too barbaric. Thoughts of dishonoring Heaven drift through my thoughts next, their presence recurring in rhythmic beats like the waves washing over the beach. I’m driven back to what I’m called to do. What I still believe I’m meant to do.
Droplets of blood drip from my forearm. Down into the sand. The granules coagulate as macabre reminders of what I’m brave enough to consider, but too afraid to do. Brave enough to hurt myself, but not end. The blood hardens in the sand, beginning to fade from the present already. Just like my thoughts of following through on anything further. And now the regret starts, but it’s hard to feel even that. It’s just an obligation at this point. Something I know I should feel, so I make myself.
They wouldn’t want to see me like this. Lycien, Auzha...the dozens before them. They’d be saddened at the sight of their friend sitting on a beach, knife in hand, harm already done, contemplating the motivation for why he hurts himself as well as the hesitation of why he won’t go further. But they fade. Just like all other thoughts. Blending into the void that is my mind whenever I lose someone.
I act before I can think about it. Another cut. This one deeper. It bleeds fast. Heavily. The pain that comes with it brings my focus back to anywhere but where I just was. On the gentle throb of my pulse, pushing the blood from my veins. Drop by drop. Something else to focus on. Something else to quiet the voices. To quiet the thoughts that make me want it all to just stop.
Back to reality. I’m here. I don’t want to be anywhere else. That’s maybe saddest of all. What else am I going to do? But here I am. On the beach, after the battle, contemplating loss. Pain. Regret.
Suicide.
The blood drips. I watch it fall into the sand, knowing that tonight won’t be the night. Tonight can’t be. The demons didn’t kill me, and there are others here. Stay alive for them, Mitailis. Stay alive and try to do some good with what time you have left, however short. Hopefully short. Whatever lies beyond this dimension, this life, maybe it’s better than this. I live by faith. I’ll die by it, if I can. Such is the hope, anyway.
A heavy sigh escapes me, but I know it’s time to move on. A quick prayer, healing light that I feel I don’t deserve answers my call, and I press the warmth to the cuts on my arm. They heal, as they always do. Only the feintest scars remain, masked by the thicker ones that a demon put on me long ago.
Same place. Cut the same place. They won’t notice then.
I put my vambrace back over my forearm, wondering if I should go find the others. Then I reconsider, remembering Thraxi left not too long ago. I remember that I’m in an encampment with Clairvoyants that can read my mind, and someone else in my head after what I’ve just done is the last thing I want. I bury this deep. So deep I know it’ll only come back unbidden when I’m at my lowest again.
I’ll deal with it then, as I’ve always done.
Each time, I wonder if it’ll be different. Maybe next time, this little scenario I’ve played out so many times in a desperate bid to be free of the pain I can’t heal will finally come to fruition and I’ll do the demons’ job for them.
I shake my head, heave another sigh, and think on how pathetic that really is. Mitailis, mighty angel of vengeance, laid low by his own sword, forever remembered in disgrace as the one who decided it was all just too much.
Not today, at least.
The waves crash into the shore and the water sparkles brilliantly in the sunset. I bury the drying droplets of blood in the sand.
----------------------------------------------------------
There are more. An old instinct and familiar scent draw my focus. There’s a smell of something sweet in the air. Very sweet.
Hatred.
It’s not coming from the encampment either. The aroma drifts toward me, intermixed with the salt and brine of the sea. Something is in the water. Or near it.
I pull myself up slowly. Stretch. Adjust the vambrace at my right and left, tapping a button on the left interface that magnetically pulls my shield to a node at my back. Allos technology has made some things easier since I came to Confluence, that’s for certain. Including efficiency both during and before battles.
My sword would be next were it not for an Ilyuin trick I picked up. The wizards of that dimension will know more about the manipulation of the material worlds than I ever could, but I’m glad they taught me a thing or two regardless. A lesser but still effective form of their power. I use that gift now to will a blade of light into existence at my right hand. It’s as hard as any steel and strong as any plasma blade. The weapon that’s as much a part of me as my beating heart. I slide it into a loop at my left hip, then check the rest of my armor. I need to make sure I’m ready for whatever is out there. Hatred means a demon cunning or strong enough to control their baser instincts.
Eight dead...I think they could use a little vengeance as much as I could.
Thraxi is back with the others, too far away to help in case I need her. Then again, I don’t think she or anyone else should be involved. Formidable as they all are, the demons have proven just how deadly they can be. Centuries of fighting my kind have produced monsters as calculating as they are ravenous, and if this one is what I think it is, my allies shouldn’t be anywhere near it. So I start walking toward the beach, an indifferent countenance maintained though my eyes scan everything that moves.
I make it to the shore, dropping to a knee and scooping up a handful of wet sand. It’s something to do as I await my foe’s arrival. They’ll be here soon. I know as much as the sweetness in the air becomes a delicious taste in my mouth. When I look up at the setting suns, I find what I’m looking for.
Emerging from the water first from a veil of building steam is a set of upturned horns. The elongated and feline skull is next, eye sockets filled with orange fire. A maw of twisted but jagged fangs appears. Below that is the rigid, armored form. Blackened plates, bladed and spiked with rusty razors shift and glide over its twisted but humanoid body. In its hands it carries a curved glaive, the elegance of the weapon contradicting the savagery of the monster making its way toward me.
I let the next wave wash the sand from my palm, then rise. A clench of my left fist along with a thought launches the shield at my back to the nodes on my left forearm, potent and programmed magnetism locking it in place. I don’t draw the sword yet. Instead, I take a few steps to my left, keeping my right shoulder toward the approaching enemy. He moves just as deliberately. His body is tense, but his posture calm. We’ve both fought this battle a hundred times in our head before we reached this moment. Now we replay each instance, glimpsing those we’ve won.
“You...” it starts, joining me on the beach as the waves wash over our feet. “I know you well, Mitailis.”
My breathing is steadied. I force my heart to slow. No words from me. Not yet.
It switches its glaive to its other hand. “The ones that have fallen to your blade speak of you with fear. Should they?”
“I didn’t live this long by being lucky.”
“Heheheh...didn’t you?”
My head lowers, a mechanized visor folding over my face in response. It coos again.
“More of us seek you now. We always will.”
I draw my sword, body relaxed as both it and my shield stay ready at my sides.
Its eyes shift to the weapon of light. Then back to me. “You’ll fall eventually. Just give me a few moments.”
“I’ve heard that promise before,” I reply, then start stalking forward, wings spreading wide as my body goes rigid, my entire demeanor shifting in a heartbeat.
One heave of my wings brings me to my foe, his glaive leveling in an attempt to end the fight quickly. Clash of steel, my shield sliding forward as I lower my shoulder. I feel his weight against mine for a moment with a shudder. More metal screams and groans before he flies back, tumbling across the water from my initial assault. He growls, then pulls himself upright. I set my feet, shield before me, sword behind me, point leveled toward him. He’ll come to me next.
And now it’s his turn as he rushes forward, feet moving in a blur that belies his armored stature. The glaive slices low as I step back and away, then circles overhead before slamming down. My shield turns the attack aside, then my sword slices to counter. He blocks with the shaft of his weapon, spinning it again and swiping for my side. Block. Block again from the butt he tries to crash across my jaw. My sword darts in, the point slamming into his plated belly.
Hell’s forges have made some improvements.
The blade bounces wide, and my right wing shoots forward just in time to catch the blade of his polearm before it cuts into my neck. My left joins the fight next by lunging forward, the metal feathers slicing across his chest and knocking him back but not cutting through the layered sheets of Hellish alloy. He stumbles, but resets his feet, another growl escaping him followed by a soft chuckle.
This won’t end as quickly as I was hoping, but I don’t mind a prolonged fight. It’s the opportunities it affords him to go after others that puts me on edge. I just have to keep him from escaping.
He sniffs the air. “You’re not the only one who can sense it. I smell your fear, Mitailis.”
My body relaxes again, shield and sword ready as I pace around him. “I fear you’ll talk me to death, demon. What an ignominious end that would be.”
“I’d heard your wrath was legendary. Where is it?”
“Wait.”
He levels his glaive, point staying trained on me as I pace back and forth before him. I wait for another advance, but it doesn’t come from his most apparent weapon. Instead, a small firearm unfolds from a mechanized arm at his back, blasting a metal slug into my chest before I can raise my shield. My armor stops it, but the hit takes the wind from me as he closes in. Both wings fold in front of me to deflect his attack, the barrier of bladed, metal feathers certain to hold fast. Except there’s no impact. When I realize why, I spin fast and to my left, deeper into the water and just in time to avoid his slam from above that shudders the sand and parts the waves in an angry spray of steam. Then he’s closing in again, weapon at his back firing.
Another slug catches me in the shoulder, but I spin with the hit and swipe a wing across my body toward his throat. He slides beneath it, my shield catching his thrust, sword drawing sparks from his armor as it clashes with his pauldron and again as it cuts across his belly. Another slug slams into my left arm, this one boring into my armor. A fiery lance of pain shoots through my bicep, but I growl through it and swing upward with a vicious backhand that sends him tumbling away again.
This time I don’t let him breathe. My wings launch me forward through yet another barrage of slugs that my shield absorbs before I close in on my opponent. I keep him close this time. Inside the reach of his glaive, I wait for my moment, watching the aim of the contraption at his back, noting its Allos make and the Hellish bastardization of their tech. It twitches. I block a backhand from his right fist. Spin. Slice, wings cut behind my sword as I rotate. Only one catches the target, but it’s all I need as I hear metal break. His secondary weapon falls steaming into the shallow waves, but his polearm comes whirling around, slamming into my shield so hard I’m taken from my feet and sent flying. My wings correct my flight, feet finding the sand yet again as I brace for his approach.
A roar, then a gout of flame blasts from his demonic maw that I weather behind my shield. I stay moving, this time to the right. Dodge one thrust. Deflect the next. Riposte and slide low, catching him in the armored shin and thwarted yet again by the stubborn plate he wears.
Time to change tactics.
I withdraw, wings taking me airborne as a flick of my wrist and a thought pull my shield magnetically to my back. I alight on the beach again, taking my sword in both hands. If I can’t break through the armor with one arm, I’ll just use both.
He wants to see my wrath...I’ll give you all the wrath you can handle, monster. Come on...
He’d be smiling if his skeletal visage would allow him to do so, and his cackle and the brightening flames of his eyes compliment my suspicion as he spins his glaive once, levels it, and charges again. My left wing turns aside his thrust. Right wing cuts across, forcing him to dance back as I quickstep to close the gap, sword leveled and lunging. He deflects the attack, but my wing swipes in from the left, slamming into the side of his leg. It buckles, driving him down to a knee as mine fires forward, spiked point driving under his chin and shattering bone as I send him tumbling backward. He falls onto his back with more steam roaring upward. My sword is already descending. He raises the haft of his weapon to intercept. It’s his only option.
Metal rings. His weapon parts in two. My sword gouges into his chest, cutting a vertical line down the armor and drawing the first cry of anguish from my foe. The scent in the air changes as I feel something savory in my mouth.
His fear tastes even better than his hate.
Then he’s swinging with his bare fists as he tries to rise. I block the right haymaker, plant a foot onto his shoulder, then shove him back as I flip the grip on my sword. My weapon plunges down with all my strength. Another metallic shriek followed by one from him. The sword is buried to the hilt, pinning him to the sand. When he reaches to withdraw it with his left, I move back just far enough to let my wing deal with him. A backhanded swipe from my leftward limb slams into his armored gauntlet. Even through the clash of metal, I hear the bones in his arm break. For good measure, I slam my right into him next, bending the metal even further as his limb takes on the appearance of a twisted lightning bolt. He groans in pain, turning his gaze upward to meet mine as I tower over him.
I take my time, savoring the taste. “Tell the others when you get back to Hell. Tell them I’m waiting.”
His broken jaw tries to form a few words, but it’s all an indecipherable gargle. I plant an armored boot on his chest again, then rip my sword from his shoulder. A quick turn of the blade, then I part the upper portion of his head from the fractured jaw with a clean slice. He spasms once, limbs and fingers twitching. Burning tar and molten ichor leak from the cavity that was once his head, the waters of the Crimson Sea eagerly licking at the dissipating form of a greater demon fading back to Hell. The red water feels symbolic to me, somehow. As if the blood the demons have spilled has come back to claim vengeance, however slight.
The image is one I hold as his body dissipates into ash. The sound of approaching feet gets me to turn, weapon ready. My breath is quickened, but only for a moment. It’s just Thraxi and a few of the others coming to investigate the skirmish. My form relaxes, and I dismiss my weapon with a thankful nod.
“Just cleaning up,” I offer them.
The same Allos field medic approaches me, visor white, then purple. “You’re injured, Mitailis.”
I turn a puzzled look to her, then to Thraxi who’s now taken on a larger, muscled and bipedal form. She points to my arm. It’s then I notice the blood pouring from the bullet hole there.
I guess the slug went a little deeper than I thought.
“Haven’t had time to meet all of you yet,” I start over, looking to the Allos who’s already extending a retractable syringe, sterilizing ray, and sedative spray from her forearm. “I’m Mitailis.”
She chuckles, visor turning pink. “Acknowledged, Mitailis. I know who you are. I’m Serenity. Please hold still.”
Fitting, as most Allos names tend to be. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for looking after me.”
A pair of narrow tweezers unfold from the layers of her forearm next, the instrument digging into my flesh after she mercifully applies the numbing spray. Then she withdraws the barbed slug, small chunks of arm coming with it. A spray of blood, then it’s over. I’m praying again as she works, and as I press my hand to the flesh just above the wound, the injury fades fast. There’s a scar, but that’s it.
I’m more irritated by the hole in my armor at this point.
I look to see Thraxi waving off the others, a few of them laughing in amazement at what they’re seeing. This isn’t the first I’ve taken on a greater demon alone. Probably won’t be the last.
“He’ll tell you more about it when he’s ready,” Thraxi diverts a few curious Allos who want to know how to mimic my tactics. “We’ve all had a long day.”
Yeah...it has been a long one. Not necessarily the worst, though.
Shutdowns in 2020 seem to be a recurring factor of living. While I relish solitude on a general basis for the opportunities it affords, the isolation does hit closer to home this year, especially as Thanksgiving draws near and we're no longer able to gather as family. I hope that isn't the case for you, dear reader, but if it is, I hope you're able to make the best of the holiday regardless. Even in this uncertain year, I've found there's always something to be grateful for. Even a new day.
In other news, my writing continues, submissions resume, and I hope to further this passion of mine into a career. Such was an opportunity I came to appreciate during the shutdowns--the chance to really write what I've always wanted.
Happy Thanksgiving all! Have a safe, wonderful holiday wherever you are!
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