By Dave Eber
"...Daughter..."
Pi Tui floated in a sea of gray mist. She looked around, confused. She wasn't sure where she was, or how she had gotten here.
"...Daughter..."
"Father?" Pi Tui looked around, her long dark hair drifting out gently behind her. She felt as if she were trying to move underwater. Before her, the gray mists became churning, dark cloudsthat formed a giant face.
"Hear me, daughter!" The voice was deep like thunder, and echoed as if it came from the bottom of the deepest chasm.
"I'm here father! Where are you?"
"Help me. Release me."
"How can I help you? Where are you?"
"Release me. Find me, and free me." The clouds began to swirl once again, and the face began to dissipate.
"Father!"
Pi Tui, the Queen of the Ice Pagoda, sat bolt upright, her eyes wide and her heart racing. Butterfly and Breeze, her guardian tigers, looked up attentively from their place at the foot of her bed. Pi Tui looked around her bedchambers and caught her breath. It was the same dream, again.
The legendary Prof is a short, mean-tempered woman who resembles a walnut with a shock of white hair and glasses. To look at her, you wouldn't think she was the leader of a heavily armed, possibly insane, band of underground militants. I was facing her on the edge of a filthy wasteland known as the Junkyard, a vast stretch of hills and valleys made up entirely of the refuse of all of human history, as well as history that never was. An exile once told me that everything that had ever been lost or cast aside could be found there, trickling down through the countless depths of time and space until it ended up in that vast, stinking pile. But that was just nonsense, the diseased ramblings of a hopeless drunk who had been cast aside himself, kicked out of the real world and left to spend the rest of his days rotting in some backwater distimed village. I didn't have time for any of that. I was here because I had a job to do. For years the Prof and her crew had been running around the Inner Kingdom, supposedly wreaking havoc and upsetting the status quo. I was here to get to the bottom of it, to get behind the lies and the half-truths and the innuendos and find the real story.
"Turn the camera off, Gus." The Prof was in an foul mood. I was going to have to turn on the charm for this one.
"Come on, Prof. Haven't I helped you out a bunch of times in the past? Who tipped you off about those cultists in Cleveland? Did you already forget about that time in Madagascar? And what about that incident with the Spaniard?"
"She said, turn it off." One of the Prof's cronies stepped in front of me, her face inches away from mine. She was a small Chinese girl with long, dark hair. There was something feline and feral about her. The Prof's band called themselves "The Dragons." I had worked with them before, going quid pro quo for favors and information. They were like the Jammers, but smaller, tighter, more focused -- and without so many monkeys. Whereas the Jammers were prone to half-baked politics and half-cocked eruptions of violence on a regular basis, the Dragons kept things simmering below the surface until they came to a boil. The end result of this would be an orgy of chaos and destruction that would make the Tet Offensive look like a schoolyard brawl.
"Bei," the Prof said, warning in her voice. The Chinese girl backed off, sullen at having been deprived of the opportunity to tear my throat out with her bare hands. There were a couple of other Dragons hanging around, looking faintly bored or amused by the whole thing. I didn't know much about the woman named Suong Xa. The name sounded Vietnamese, but she looked Eurasian. Word had it that she had bailed the Jammers out of a tight spot by showing up with a team of commandos from the Ice Pagoda two years ago. Then there was the man they simply called "The Gunman." He was some kind of foreigner, maybe Persian, maybe Turkmen or Uzbek or Kazak. There were rumors that he was an Islamic terrorist, but I didn't buy it. He was too calm, too relaxed. He didn't have that furtive, fanatic glint in his eye. There were also stories that he called himself "The Golden Gunman," but with the potential for litigation there, this was obviously untrue. The last member of the group was a man named Silver Jet, another shady character with an obviously false name. I had met him before, and as usual, he looked like he had just stepped out of a society gala. There wasn't a single hair out of place, nor a speck of dust on his dinner jacket. What kind of a mutant freak never wears anything but a white tuxedo?
The situation suddenly took an unexpected twist when a platoon of Ice Warriors showed up. Their leader announced in a thick Russian accent that the Queen of the Ice Pagoda wanted to meet with the Prof. His voice was perfectly cultured, but he had the eyes and hands of a Cossack. The Prof told him that she'd see if she could work it into her schedule, and the Russian stiffened. This was no laughing matter. You don't turn down a meeting with the Ice Queen. She'll drop the hammer on you so hard you'll never see the light of day again. The Russian insisted that the Prof come with him, and everyone tensed up. I could feel the bad vibrations coming through the air. The Dragons are a dangerous crowd, not used to the finer points of diplomacy. Years of living on the edge have made them paranoid, edgy, and prone to sudden spastic fits of violence. But the Prof relented and told the Russian that she'd come along. The other Dragons moved to follow, but the Russian told them they weren't invited. The Prof told him that if they didn't go, she wouldn't either. She was pushing her luck, but this time, the Russian gave in, and the Dragons followed. No one told me not to, so I did the same.
Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in the Netherworld
by Gus Andropolous
unpublished memoirs
Silver Jet craned his neck up to look at the Ice Pagoda as he crossed over the frozen waters that surrounded it. Onion-domed towers and storied Chinese towers, all made of solid ice, mingled together behind frozen walls. The ceiling of the cavern disappeared into darkness, yet the palace itself seemed suffused with a gentle luminescence, and there was a gentle quietude reminiscent of a snowfall at dawn. A pair of guards stood at attention at the gates, their samurai-style armor made from perfectly sculpted, unmelting ice. The captain leading the platoon nodded to one of the guards, and the outer gates swung open smoothly and noiselessly. Surrounded by clusters of snow-dusted pines, the main tower of the Ice Pagoda loomed before the Dragons. Silver Jet caught his breath and stopped, causing the ice warriors to eye him suspiciously.
"Hey, what's the matter?" the Golden Gunman said quietly, gently nudging Silver Jet.
"I... I've seen this place before."
The Golden Gunman furrowed his brow. "When?"
"I've been dreaming lately... this place, an old man, a beautiful woman...." Silver Jet looked over at the Golden Gunman, his eyes distant. Then he remembered where he was, and he moved forward again.
The captain led the Dragons inside the main hall of the Pagoda. A white-haired Japanese man in rich robes of green, blue, and purple silk appeared before him. The captain stopped, and then bowed.
"By order of her Imperial Majesty, I have brought the one known as 'The Prof,' along with her companions, before her."
"Thank you, captain," the Japanese man replied, his voice quiet and mellifluous. He turned toward the Prof. "Welcome. I am Akani Hideo, chief of staff for her imperial majesty, Pi Tui, the Queen of the Ice Pagoda." As Hideo spoke, he looked over the Dragons, then stopped when his gaze fell on Silver Jet.
"You," he said. "What is your name?"
"Silver Jet." Uncertainty flickered across Hideo's face for a moment, and then he turned back to the Prof.
"Her majesty is expecting you. Please follow me." With that he turned, and walked toward the opposite end of the hall. The Dragons and their escort followed. As Hideo reached the double-doors, the guards opened them, revealing a vast chamber of ice. Banners of red and purple satin contrasted sharply with the ice-blue walls. Small knots of courtiers dressed in silk kimonos and furs sat on benches scattered about the throne room, watching the arrivals with some interest. Gigantic crystalline pillars ringed the room; a halberd-armed guard stood stone-faced before each one. Light refracted though the faceted crystalline ceiling to bathe a massive throne of ice in subtle rainbow hues. Butterfly and Breeze looked up at the Dragons from either side of the throne. Sitting between them was Pi Tui, the Queen of the Ice Pagoda. She wore elegant silk robes of pale violet, deep red, and ice blue. Her midnight-black hair was long and lustrous, her skin almost porcelain-white. Akani Hideo approached the throne and bowed his head respectfully.
"Your majesty, I present The Prof and her companions: Bei Tairong, the Gunman, Suong Xa, and Silver Jet." The Ice Queen nodded slightly, and Hideo bowed again and stepped aside. The Dragons glanced at each other uneasily. Hideo had never asked them their names.
"Welcome to the Ice Pagoda." Pi Tui's voice was flat and distant."We are honored to have you here."
"What is it you want from me, your highness?" A quiet gasp went up from the assembled courtiers. Butterfly and Breeze suddenly stood up and padded toward the Dragons. The Dragons began moving into a defensive posture when the Ice Queen spoke.
"Do not be alarmed. My pets are merely curious. If you make no untoward action, they will not harm you." The Dragons watched warily as the tigers sniffed around them. Only Bei Tairong seemed relaxed.
"I've asked you here to offer my condolences for the death of Kar Fai. He was a wise man, and I understand he died honorably in battle. You have our deepest sympathies."
"Thank you," the Prof replied. "Why else did you want to see me?"
The Queen's expression did not change. "I have a favor to ask you, and an offer to make."
"I'm listening."
"Recently, two scientists from the future came to me, seeking shelter. They came, fleeing the civil war of their own time, and offered me their services in return for asylum. I have granted them refuge, but I do not entirely trust them. I need someone knowledgable who can oversee their work, and none of my subjects can perform this task. I would like you to undertake this task. In return, you will have full access to my research facilities, and safe harbor for all of your group."
"No thanks. Neither I nor my companions are interested in becoming your vassals."
"I do not wish to make you my subject. You would be free to do as you pleased."
"We'd be living in your palace. That would make us your subjects, whether you intend it or not. What's more, anything we did would eventually come back to you. Our enemies would become your enemies, and vice versa. We don't need that."
"My enemies are already your enemies. The Dragons are not known for having friends among... " Suddenly, the Queen stopped speaking and stared at Silver Jet. The Dragons all turned around, and saw Butterfly and Breeze lying at Silver Jet's feet. They were on their backs, paws outstretched and bellies exposed. Silver Jet stared down at the purring tigers, and then looked up, his face a mask of confusion. He met Hideo's gaze, and the steward looked back at him in wonder and awe.
"It is you," Hideo whispered, his voice quavering. "It is you!" Hideo turned toward the Ice Queen. "It is him, my lady! He has returned!"
The Ice Queen looked at Hideo, her eyes widening. Then she looked at Silver Jet, and her icy demeanor cracked. Without warning, she leapt off her throne and into Silver Jet's arms, burying her head in his chest. The throne room was utterly silent, except for the gentle purring of Butterfly and Breeze. Bei and Suong looked questioningly at each other. Even the Golden Gunman's normally stoic features betrayed a hint of surprise. Finally, Bei Tairong broke the silence.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Pi Tui looked up at Silver Jet. "You don't remember, do you? All your memories are gone." For just a moment, a flicker of recognition passed across Silver Jet's face.
"I've seen you before," he said. "But only in a dream."
"Trust me," she said, and then she kissed him. Silver Jet's eyes widened in shock, but his arms encircled her body, though he was barely aware of it. After a moment he closed his eyes and returned the kiss. Finally, Pi Tui pulled away, and Silver Jet opened his eyes and gazed into hers.
"I remember," he said softly.
"What's going on here?" the Prof asked, quietly. Pi Tui reluctantly turned toward her. She had one hand resting possessively on Silver Jet's chest as she spoke.
"Before I was exiled here, Jin Sha was my consort." Pi Tui looked into Silver Jet's eyes as she spoke his true name, looking for recognition. "He was destined to be my prince and champion."
"I don't understand," the Prof replied.
"The man you call Silver Jet was once Jin Sha, the most noble and brave of all in my empire, and my beloved. I had chosen him to be my consort, and bestowed upon him spells granting him long life, health, strength, and eternal youth. Never would the dirt of the earth touch his body, nor would sweat ever rest upon his brow."
"Well, that explains a lot," Gus muttered quietly.
"All this I granted him and more. But before we could be wed, the filthy animals cast us down, and forced us into exile." Behind the Prof, Bei stiffened, and Suong Xa gently put a hand on her shoulder. "In the confusion of our flight to the Netherworld, Jin Sha disappeared. I feared he was lost to me forever. Pi Tui's hand slid down from Silver Jet's chest to gently grasp his hand. Her face was glowing with joy.
Silver Jet had been staring, dumbstruck, at Pi Tui. Finally, he regained his composure and spoke.
"My Queen, I remember now. But as I was loyal to you, so I am now loyal to the Dragons. I have pledged the Prof my service, and cannot break my word." Silver Jet turned to the Prof. "Pi Tui is my one true love. When she kissed me, all my memories returned. I cannot forsake my beloved any more than I can break my word. Therefore, I must beg you to accept her offer. With me as her consort, you need never worry about losing your independence, and I need not break my word."
The Prof stared at Silver Jet, dumbfounded. He looked back at her with wide, hopeful eyes. Then she threw back her head and laughed.
"Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" She turned to Pi Tui.
"I'll accept your offer, on these conditions: First, I can leave at any time, second, I'll answer only to you, or to Silver Jet on your behalf, and third, even if things don't work out with these scientists, I'll still have your support."
"I accept your terms." Pi Tui replied. "Hideo, begin the preparations for the wedding immediately!"
"Gladly, your majesty."
Pi Tui turned back to the Prof, her face warm and flushed. "You and your companions will, of course, attend the ceremony."
The Prof laughed. "You couldn't keep me away, your majesty."
"Then let there be celebration!" Pi Tui let out a shout of joy, and the room broke into jubilation. The courtiers crowded around the Dragons, offering their congratulations. Amidst the noise and sudden excitement, no one noticed a silent figure standing in the shadows, watching everything.
Akani Hideo led the Prof, followed closely by Bei Tairong, through a network of tunnels that ran beneath the Ice Pagoda. The contrast with the surface was stark; whereas the palace above was like a winter fairytale, the complex below was barren and utilitarian. Electronic surveillance cameras and motion sensors tracked the trio's movements as they passed through solid-steel blast doors and past soldiers in modern combat gear. It was, the Prof noted, a far cry from the other Monarchs, who still lived as if their world had never disappeared.
"We're approaching her majesty's research and development facility," Hideo said as he approached a door flanked by a pair of Ice Warriors. "This is where you'll be working." The guards snapped to attention as Hideo pulled out a magnetic keycard and fed it into an electronic lock. The light on the lock went from red to green, and the door slid open. Even the Prof's eyes widened slightly at what she saw. The room beyond was filled with racks of sophisticated computers and a variety of high-tech equipment. Technicians and lab assistants moved purposefully about the room, working on different tasks. It was an ultra-modern science lab -- the last thing the Prof expected to find beneath the Ice Pagoda.
"Allow me to introduce you to the scientists you'll be working with," Hideo said. He approached two men in white lab coats. The first had rich, chocolate-brown skin and wide eyes set beneath a mop of kinky black hair. The second had a solid, square build, café au lait skin, and short, almost nappy hair.
"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, there's someone I'd like you to meet. Dr. Ngubane, Dr. Damiri, this is the Prof." Damiri nodded politely to the Prof, but Ngubane's eyes went wide with surprise.
"Dr. Dao," he said, "is that you? I thought you were dead."
"I don't know anyone by that name," the Prof said icily, "and neither do you, if you want to keep working here. And breathing." Behind her, Bei Tairong narrowed her eyes menacingly. Ngubane's face fell, and he swallowed.
"Of course. My mistake."
"Her majesty has placed the Prof in charge of this facility. That means she'll be supervising your work. You will report directly to her, and she will keep her majesty apprised of your activities. Do you understand?" The two scientists nodded.
"Excellent. I'll leave you to get acquainted with the facilities. Have the guards summon me when you're ready to leave." With that, Hideo bowed slightly, turned, and left the room.
"Well, gentlemen," the Prof said, turning back to the two scientists. "Let's get to know each other."
"Scribe!"
"Yes, your majesty?"
"I wish to compose a letter."
"Very good, your majesty. As always, I am ready to serve."
"Excellent. Let us begin." Huan Ken took a swig from his tankard. "My dearest sister," he began. "We are most pleased to hear that you have been reunited with your consort, and we are overjoyed to hear the news of your impending nuptials. Of course, we know that you will be inviting us to your wedding, and we would be happy to do the honor of presiding over your ceremony. After all, who better to marry off a queen, than a king. Your warmest regards, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera..." Huan Ken raised his tankard to his lips, then frowned upon finding it empty.
"More wine!" he bellowed.
"Will that be all, your majesty?"
"No! Bring beer too!" Huan Ken replied as a servant refiled his tankard. He took a long pull, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now get that message to my sister immediately!"
"Of course, your majesty."
"So," she said to herself, "my sister has found her long lost love."
Ming I sat alone, brooding, in the darkness of her throne room. The latest news from her spies in the Ice Pagoda had left her most displeased. Not only was Pi Tui getting married, but her husband-to-be was a Dragon. Their marriage would mark the beginning of a formal alliance between the Ice Queen and the Dragons. Granted, the Dragons were little more than insects, but even so, their alliance could shift the balance of power in favor of her sister. This was unacceptable.
Ming I uttered a sharp command, and a servant scurried into the throne room and knelt before her.
"Have a message sent to my brother," Ming I said. "We have much to discuss."
"You summoned me, your majesty."
Silver Jet knelt on one knee in the Ice Queen's anteroom, his head bowed. Pi Tui smiled and rose from her divan.
"Please, do not kneel. You are my beloved, not my servant."
"I am always her majesty's servant," Silver Jet said, rising.
"Oh, Jin Sha," she said, drawing him into her arms. "It has been so long. I thought I would never see you again."
"Please, your majesty, call me Silver Jet. It...it is the name I use now. Jin Sha feels like something out of a dream."
"Silver Jet?" Pi Tui wrinkled her nose in distaste, then smiled. "Very well, my love. But only if you stop calling me 'your majesty.'"
"As you wish, my love." Silver Jet smiled, and then pulled Pi Tui close and kissed her. When they parted, he saw a shadow flicker across her face.
"What's wrong, my love? What troubles you?"
Pi Tui pulled away from him, and stared into a corner of the room. "My dreams of late have been dark and uncertain. My heart should be singing with joy, but a sadness weighs upon it heavily."
"Tell me," he said as he stepped to her side and took her hand gently in his.
"My father. His spirit calls out to me. He is...imprisoned somewhere. He calls out to me to free him. I do not understand it." Silver Jet's eyes widened. He looked away from Pi Tui, then turned back toward her.
"My dreams, too, have been strange of late. I've seen visions of this place, of you, and... of an old man. In the dream, the old man told me I could have my heart's true desire if I helped him. I didn't understand the meaning of it at first, but now I realize he was leading me to you. Your father brought us together."
"My father..." Pi Tui looked at Silver Jet with awe. "I understand now too. My father's spirit has been imprisoned. He needs me to free him, so he brought you to me. He brought me my champion. My love, I beg you, please help me find my father and free him." Silver Jet cupped Pi Tui's chin in his hands and looked into her eyes.
"I am yours to command. You never need ask. As you wish it, so it shall be done."
Pi Tui embraced Silver Jet once again, then looked up at him.
"But where will we begin? I have tried using sorcery and divination to locate him, but to no avail. He is cloaked in fog and shadow."
Silver Jet looked away, deep in thought. Then he looked up again.
"I don't know, but I know someone who might be able to help."
The Ice Pagoda is what the world would look like if the Tsars had conquered the world in the 16th century and then decided to turn Chinese, move to Alaska, and indulge in a lot of psychotropic drugs. On any given day, you might find a Russian Boyar chatting with a samurai warrior, a special ops commando, a blue-skinned Eskimo, and a polar bear. This madness goes on and on, but nobody seems to notice. I had been cooling my heels there when Silver Jet came to me with a proposition. I had been roaming the place on my own for hours, the other Dragons having long since scattered. There was no one to talk to -- or anyway, no one who would talk to me -- but I hadn't left because it isn't just every day that you get an invitation to the Ice Pagoda and I was determined to stick around until something turned up, or they threw me out into the snow. So I was hanging out in one of the lounges for a few hours, drinking Vodka on the rocks -- which seemed to be the house favorite -- when Silver Jet found me. It seems he needed some information. The Ice Queen's father -- or rather, his ghost -- had gone missing, and Silver Jet had promised to find him. Problem is, he didn't know where to start looking, but he figured I did, or at least, that I would know someone who would know someone who would. In return, he promised me exclusive coverage rights for IKTV. So I smiled and nodded and let him think I was thrilled at his offer, even though the wedding gig was small potatoes. Sure, it was a big story, and would pay the rent for a few months, but any hack can cover a state wedding. No, what I was really after was the chance to travel with the Dragons, to see who they were and how they operated. To get inside their heads and see why they were on everyone's hit list. What's more, I could tell that this wasn't just going to be a trip to the corner store. Finding the ghost of the father of the bride was going to be a heavy-duty operation, the kind of thing that was going to involve fast-taking, underhanded dealings, and the spilling of blood. It would be a wild and dangerous run, and I knew that before it was over, some ugly truths were going to be exposed to the light. It was going to be a savage journey into the dark heart of the Netherworld. That was the real story. And besides, at that point I was so bored that I would have agreed to anything.
Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in the Netherworld
by Gus Andropolous
unpublished memoirs
Rebecca Dupress, head of Ascended operations in the Netherworld, adjusted her glasses as she read the latest intelligence report. General Aurelio Oliveira sat opposite her, waiting patiently while she finished reading. Finally, she set down the report and looked up.
"We have a situation, General."
"Ma'am?"
"Our operative in the Ice Pagoda reports that the Ice Queen is planning to marry one of the Dragons, a man by the name of Silver Jet. This marriage will mark the beginning of a formal alliance between the two, with the Dragons moving their operations to the Ice Pagoda itself. What do you make of this, General?"
"The Dragons are a miniscule organization with operatives scattered throughout the junctures. They have no discernable goals, agenda, or ideology. They seem to exist mainly as a spoiler faction within the Secret War, and although they have recruited some talented individuals, they amount to little more than a few dozen individuals with no formalized chain of command. In short, they are little more than a nuisance.
"And yet, General, intelligence reports indicate that they've managed to involve themselves in several major battles and operations over the past few years, often decisively affecting the outcome. They disrupted our operation to capture Dr. Curtis Boatman over two years ago, they were responsible for the death or disappearance of a number of agents in the year 1855, they were heavily involved in the events surrounding the 1970's juncture, and they were also involved in the incident in Hong Kong earlier this year which left one of our top agents dead, another seriously wounded, and a third missing."
"Yes, ma'am."
"They've managed to accomplish all this despite the fact that they have little in the way of cohesion or resources. What could they accomplish, I wonder, if they had the backing of the Queen of the Ice Pagoda? It's something I'd rather not find out. We cannot allow this wedding to happen."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Our latest reports indicated that this Silver Jet, along with a handful of other Dragon operatives, recently departed from the Ice Pagoda. We don't know their destination, but analysis suggests that it's somewhere within the Netherworld, rather than in one of the junctures. This is our opportunity, General.
"Very good, Ma'am. Shall I dispatch the Raging Tiger Division to intercept them?"
"I think not, General. We don't want to make our presence known in this matter. That would invite retaliation from the Ice Pagoda. We need to take out the Dragons in a way that doesn't tie directly back to us." Rebecca paused for a moment, lost in thought.
"Call up the Broken Wheel Brigade, General. It's time for them to go hunting."
Dr. Jean-Marc Ngubane sat alone in his chambers, a small, dim, chilly room. He pulled out what looked like a pair of bat wings punched through with computer chips and connected by thin traces of silver metal. He unfolded it to reveal a numeric keypad, and winced slightly as he plugged the device into an I/O port in his arm. He hit a series of keys on the device, and then held it up to his ear and spoke.
"Ngubane, reporting."
"Go ahead."
"Something unexpected has developed here. I was introduced to my new supervisor today." Dr. Ngubane smirked. "I think you'll be very interested in her identity, Dr. Boatman."
"Tell me more, Doctor."
"Our father's spirit? You cannot be serious."
Li Ting regarded his sister with a cool gaze. "I scoffed at first as well, but I have the same information from several trustworthy sources within the Ice Pagoda. Silver Jet left the Pagoda with a small band of companions earlier today. Apparently, he's going out in search of our father's ghost."
Ming I frowned. "But why? Does she seek his forgiveness, or some other sentimental nonsense?"
"I am not sure," Li Ting replied, "The rumor circulating in the Ice Pagoda is that our father has been calling to our sister in her dreams, asking her to free him. Pi Tui believes his spirit has been imprisoned somewhere, and so Silver Jet is undertaking a quest to free him."
Ming I gazed into the distance, lost in thought. "This changes things. I had called you here to discuss joining forces to put a stop to this wedding, but this is a much bigger issue." She suddenly stared into Li Ting's eyes. "We cannot allow our sister to gain possession of our father's spirit. His knowledge would give her a decisive advantage!"
"Nor can we allow anyone else to hold him. As of now, someone may have his spirit in their possession. That means they may have access to his secrets. Secrets that can be used against us."
Ming I rose to her feet. "We must take possession of his spirit. What do you propose?"
"The Dragons are already looking for our father's spirit. I say we let them. We follow them until they discover his location, then kill them and take his spirit for ourselves."
Ming I smiled. "We would be killing two birds with one stone. Not only would we prevent our sister from gaining our father's spirit, but we would also put an end to her wedding as well."
"Exactly. I suggest we combine our forces. You are an expert when it comes to creeping in the shadows. I will assign command of a troop of elite warriors to one of my most trusted warlords. You use your forces to secretly follow the Dragons. When they've found our where our father is, my warriors will strike. I assume you have someone up to the task?"
Ming I smiled again, her face cruel and mirthless. "Yes, dear brother. I have just the right person in mind. Chamberlain!"
A figure stepped out of the shadows at Ming I's command. He looked vaguely human, but his skin was gray and leathery, and appeared to be stitched together. More horrifying though, were his eyes. They weren't just empty sockets, but rather, they were filled with a darkness that radiated malevolence. He bowed before Ming I, then turned to face the Fire King.
"This is Chamberlain, my finest creation and my most trusted servant. He will find out what we want to know, and then he will ensure that all the Dragons die. Chamberlain, do you understand your orders?"
"Yes, your highness."
"Very well," Li Ting said. "Then let us begin."
Zino the Greek was a florid, heavyset man with a receding hairline, a curly black beard, and the faint odor of uncooked fish. He looked like the kind of guy who, in another time and place, would have been hitting up immigrant shopkeepers for protection money, or plotting the slaughter of the neighboring village over sheep-grazing rights. However, in the Netherworld, he was the foremost information broker: a collector and purveyor of secrets, rumors, half-truths, and occasionally, cold hard facts. He made his living buying and selling information, and he was good at what he did. Good enough that he could afford his own little palace in a dark corner of the Inner Kingdom, stock it with a bunch of hired thugs, and pretend that he was some sort of prince holding court over his subjects. Everyone put up with it, because they knew he was the man to see when you needed to know something that no one else knew. That's why I was here. I figured a mission of this critical importance demanded that we spare no expense. Sure, I could have messed around with a half-dozen two-bit street hustlers and maybe struck gold, but time was of the essence, and this was no monkey-boy assignment. So I went straight to the best. There was, however, a downside to this approach that I hadn't fully anticipated.
"Tell me why I shouldn't have you chopped into tiny pieces and fed to my dogs right now?"
Zino's voice was a deep, gravelly rumble. The Dragons behind me tensed, and I offered a weak smile. Good god, that's all we'd need right now.
"Zino, come on. I thought we were friends."
"My 'friends' pay their debts, and they don't try to cheat me."
"What are you talking about? When have I ever done you wrong?"
"You lying little..." Zino's face darkened, and for a minute, I thought he was going to lunge out of his chair at me like an enraged grizzly. "You owe me for the last three times you were here. You've got a lot of nerve coming back again."
"What? I gave you good information in trade."
"You gave me garbage!" Zino roared. "All your so-called 'inside--information' was a bunch of unsubstantiated rumors at best, and outright lies at worst. Do you think I don't have other sources? Do you think I don't check things out for myself? What kind of fool do you take me for?" There were veins pulsing in Zino's neck, and the air was thick with bad vibes. I decided a new approach was called for.
"Zino. Look, I know some of my past tips may not have been fully up to snuff, but I'm here to make it up to you and then some. These good people with me are emissaries of the Queen of the Ice Pagoda on a very special mission. Why, just the question they're going to ask you is going to be a gold mine for you. With this bit of info you'll be living high on the hog for the next three months, and of course, the Ice Queen herself will be very grateful for your help."
"Cash or goods only, and it's triple the price, and maybe then I'll let you walk out of here alive."
I smiled weakly, again. "C'mon, where am I gonna get that kind of money? Besides, what do you need that for anyway? I'm talking about the Ice Queen here, Zino. This is top-shelf here. A once-in-a-lifetime deal. You won't get an offer like this again."
"Forget it, you maggot. If you're really working for the Ice Queen, then get me a crate of those Ice Rifles. Then we'll talk."
Zino was going to be a tough nut to crack, but this was just the opening round of negotiations. I knew I could break him down eventually. Like most dealers, Zino was also a junkie. He had better control than most, which was why he was the best, but I knew that in the end, he'd never pass up a big score like this. It was just too tempting. I'd drop a hint that I'd go to one of his competitors, and that would be enough to get him going.
However, we never got that far. Suddenly, there was a heavy barrage of gunfire nearby, and one of Zino's thugs came rushing in, his face white and sweaty.
"Boss! We're under attack!"
"What?" Zino roared, rising from his seat. Outside, the gunfire became more persistent. "What are you talking about?"
"There's maybe sixty to seventy guys out there with guns. They've got the place surrounded!"
"Who are they?"
"I don't know, boss! They look like marauders, but they ain't showing any colors, and I've never heard of 'em!" The gunfire was now rattling steadily, like rain on an old tin roof.
"What the hell do they want?"
"I don't know, boss! They just showed up and started shooting! They got three of our guys already." Suddenly, there was a loud whooshing sound, and the wall exploded, sending huge chunks of shaped stone hurtling through a couple of Zino's slower thugs. The Dragons were all fine, of course, flying masonry being a more or less everyday occurrence for them. Zino picked himself off the floor and looked around, wild-eyed. His clothes were matted with dust and there was blood running out of a gash on his forehead. I looked past him through the gaping hole in the wall. I saw what looked like typical Netherworld scum, a cast-off mix of history's garbage looking for a soft target. But they were too well-armed, and moved with obvious discipline. What's more, marauders would try to kill everyone only if they didn't surrender. Why do things the hard way? People you let live are people you can rob again and again. No, these were no bandits. I thought that maybe Zino had let slip one secret too many, had told the wrong thing to the wrong person, and that this was payback. But no, it was too convenient for us to be here when they attacked. Even as the Dragons drew their weapons, I knew there was only one explanation. Somebody had put a hit out on us.
Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in the Netherworld
by Gus Andropolous
unpublished memoirs
The skin and darkness zealot moved swiftly and silently along the ridge line, a whisper in the darkness. It stopped at the top of the ridge, where Chamberlain waited with a tall, bronze-skinned Arab. He eyed the zealot, and Chamberlain, with barely concealed loathing.
"There are about sixty to seventy of them, my lord. They have the compound surrounded, and outnumber the defenders about three to one, or possibly more. They will overrun them in a matter of minutes."
"Who are the attackers?" Chamberlain asked.
"I do not know, my lord. They bear no markings, but they are well-armed and disciplined."
"How are they positioned?"
"About half the force is at the main gate on the western side, which is largely open. The remainder are divided evenly on the northern and southern sides, where the hills and warrens that surround the compound make escape difficult."
"Very good." Chamberlain turned to the Arab. "Lord Fakhir, I suggest that your warriors strike swiftly against the attackers at the west gate. My zealots will use the distraction to attack the north side. This should provide an escape route for the Dragons trapped within. Once they have departed, we will disengage. Do you concur?"
Fakhir-al-Din stared darkly at Chamberlain. "As you say."
"Excellent. Let us move quickly then. We do not wish to see the Dragons die just yet."
"That's it? Only one of you has a gun? Are you kidding me?"
Zino the Greek looked around, wild-eyed, from one Dragon to the next. Silver Jet looked concerned, Bei gave him a warning look, Suong just shrugged, and the Golden Gunman ignored him entirely. He turned back to face Gus.
"I thought you said that you were working for the Ice Queen. Now I find out that you're Dragons!"
"Relax, Zino. We've got everything under control. These people are professionals." At that moment, another RPG hit the outer wall, sending everyone scrambling for cover as melon-sized chunks of rock careened through the air. When Gus lifted his head again, he found himself face to face with Zino. Zino's face and hair were coated with dust, making him look like an angry ghost, or possibly an enraged pastry chef.
"Under control? Under control?" Zino was screaming. "You brought this down on my head, and you don't even have any damn guns!"
"Quiet!" Suong snapped. "Listen." She motioned with her head toward the main gate, and everyone grew silent.
"They're still shooting," Silver Jet said, "but not at us."
Suong darted over a pile of rubble to get a better view. "I can't get a good look at what's going on, but it sounds like they're under attack. Something is drawing them away from the main gate."
"From over here, too," the Golden Gunman said, gazing out of a gaping hole in the north wall. "They've stopped shooting, and I don't see them."
"Is this some kind of a trick?" Bei asked. "Maybe they're trying to lure us out."
"I don't think so," Suong replied. "They've got more than enough men to take us. They don't need to resort to tricks like this. Something is drawing them away from us."
"This is our chance," Silver Jet said. "We'll break for the north side. We should be able to slip out through the hills."
"No."
Everyone turned to face Gus.
"What's the matter?" Silver Jet asked.
"Sorry, we can't go." Gus turned to face Zino. "Not until you tell us what we need to know."
"Are you crazy?" Zino sputtered? "Get the hell out of here!"
"Sorry Zino, but like I said, this information is top priority."
"You bring this down on me, and then you expect me to help you out? Go to hell!"
"Like you said, we brought this down on you. That means those bad men with the guns out there are looking for us. The only way to get rid of them is to get rid of us. Or maybe you could try negotiating with them, but I think dealing with us is going to be a lot easer."
Zino's eyes narrowed. A bead of sweat dribbled through the dust on his face.
"Better make up your mind fast, Zino. They could be back at any moment."
Sunless Sea, north bank. There's an old woman, lives in the ruins. She's a seer. That's your best shot."
"A seer? What do you take us for, tourists?"
I don't have the information you want, ok?" He said it like it pained him. "I'm not making this up. Her name is Cassandra. She's the real deal. If anybody knows, she does. Now get the hell out of here!"
"Thanks, Zino. You're a good man."
"Just shut up and go already!"
"Best advice I've heard all day," said Silver Jet as he drew his sword. He led the way out of the compound, heading north at a dead run, with the rest of the Dragons at his heels.
We met the preacher on the edge of the Dragon Graveyard, a vast cavern in a remote corner of the Netherworld. According to legend, the Graveyard was the ancestral resting place of the dragons -- the place where all the dragons came to die, or where they all ended up after they died, depending on who you asked. It certainly looked the part, with vast reptilian skeletons that towered over us ominously. But you can't trust anything you see in a place where the very fabric of reality can be reshaped at the whim of anyone with the right kind of mojo, so there was no saying if these were even real bones, much less real dragons.
We had come out to this godforsaken place to shake the heat off our tail. There were plenty of quicker ways to get to the Sunless Sea, but all of them involved passing through places where we might be spotted. The Inner Kingdom is a depraved, fetid place, filled with desperate scavengers and murderous thugs who wouldn't think twice about slitting our throats, much less selling us out. It's the constant shifting of reality -- it makes them mean and desperate. We didn't know who was after us, but we figured the best way to shake them was to stay out of sight. And so Suong had led us into the forgotten corners of the Netherworld, through desolate tunnels and empty caverns where no one ever goes. The only things out in this wasteland were demons, demon-hunters, and the few fools who were insane enough to brave both of them. Naturally, we met all three at once.
We heard the shooting first: quick, staccato bursts of automatic weapons fire interspersed with the methodical, resounding echo of high-caliber rounds. Then we heard the screaming. It wasn't the sound of men, although we heard plenty of that too, but rather a foul and unearthly howling and snarling, the sort of thing that would leave you sitting bolt upright in a cold sweat in the middle of the night years after you heard it. These were the sounds any sane person would run from as fast as possible. I don't know if it was a collective death wish, or some kind of shared insanity, but the Dragons moved toward the noise instead. We crouched down behind the cover of a rocky outcropping Peering over carefully, we saw was a chaotic three-way battle. A trio of demons were fighting with a team of Buro monster hunters, and both were also fighting a lone man who was wreaking havoc on both sides with a pair of Desert Eagles.
Now, demons are demons, and there isn't much else to say about them. On the other hand, the monster hunters were the jackbooted swine of the future, violent thugs from a fascist regime that had turned to self-cannibalization in a bloody civil war. It says a lot about a society when even demons consider it vile and hateful. Obviously, the Dragons felt the same way, because they leapt into the fray as well, taking on both man and demon alike. Silver Jet led the charge, his silver blade shining and keening in the darkness. It tore through the demons like they were tissue paper. Both sides fell back against this sudden onslaught, dazed by the sudden speed and ferocity of the Dragons' assault. In moments, it was all over. It was then that I noticed the preacher down on his knees before Silver Jet, his head bowed.
"Praise be unto you," he said, the hint of a Texas twang in his voice.
"Are you ok?" Silver Jet asked.
"I am unharmed," he said, his head still bowed.
Silver Jet looked around nervously. "Um... good."
"Hast thou been sent by the Lord, to aid me in my trials?"
"What?"
"Art thou not an angel of the Lord, come to smite the demons?"
"Er... no?"
The preacher looked up, and I noticed he was wearing a priest's collar. "But thy raiment is so white and pure, and your weapon shines with holy light. Surely thou art a servant of the Lord?"
Silver Jet was clearly not getting this. I stepped forward. "Hi there. I'm Gus. What's your name, sir?"
"Forgive me. I am the Reverend Zebediah Paine."
"Hi, padre. This is Silver Jet, and this is Suong, Bei, and, um, the Gunman." I extended my hand to him, and helped him to his feet. He looked to be in his early thirties, solidly built, with close-cropped blonde hair and desert-tanned skin. There was a bandolier of throwing knives strapped across his chest, beneath a well-worn leather duster. He looked like a cross between a U.S. Marine and a cowboy.
"Sorry, but we're not angels. We're just travelers like you."
The preacher's face lit up, and he smiled. "Ah, then you're also champions of the Lord, sent to hell to battle the spawn of darkness."
"Yeah..." I drawled. "That's right." I could see the preacher was long since far gone. He had the light of fanaticism shining in his eyes, and it was obvious that he could snap at any moment. This would have to be handled with finesse.
"So, Father, what exactly was going on here?"
"I was wandering these caves in search of prey, when I came upon this foul horde in combat with these armored men. I thought that they might be heavenly knights of some sort, and so I rushed forward to help them. But when I opened fire on the demons, they turned to attack me. I don't understand."
"Ah, well, you see, they were part of a capture squad, and you were trying to take away their prize. They weren't trying to kill those demons. They wanted to capture them."
"But why?"
"Well, there's a civil war going on, and so these guys were out looking for some new recruits."
"A war in Hell among the demons? Have Satan's minions turned against him, or do they vie for power within his unholy kingdom?"
"Something like that." I changed the subject. "How is it again that you ended up here Father?"
The preacher's face darkened, and he looked away from me. "When I was alive I... I had a crisis of faith. My wife was killed in a car accident, and I abandoned all hope. I leapt off a mountain to my death. As punishment for my sin, I was sent here, to Hell."
The preacher looked back up at me, his eyes shining once again. "But instead of being confined to eternal torment, I found myself alone, unfettered, and armed. Once I realized where I was, I realized what my purpose was. In his infinite mercy, the Lord has given me a chance for redemption by choosing me to fight the minions of evil directly.He has appointed me the task of slaying the demons wherever I should find them!"
"Go on," I said, smiling. It was best not to upset him. Meanwhile, my mind was working feverishly, trying to figure out how to get us out of this mess. The preacher was quite clearly a stone-cold madman. One wrong word, and things could get ugly very fast.
"Since then I've been wandering the trackless wastes of Hell, trading for food and water in the wretched villages of the lost souls, and hunting the demons on their own ground. I have seen many strange things in my time here. To tell the truth, it's not quite what I expected."
"It never is," I said. "Anyway, it's been a pleasure chatting with you, but we have to be going. Glad we could help you out."
"But I thought I would join you. We've all been given the same task. Has not the Lord sent you to me, so that we might fight side by side, and further His greater glory?"
I put my hand on his shoulder, and smiled. "We'd love to have you come along, but you see, we're on a mission of our own. This is a very ominous assignment, with overtones of extreme personal danger. We've all got our own part in this you see, and your path is not our path. We've all got to do what the good Lord commands us."
"I... suppose we do," the preacher replied, frowning. "If this is the Lord's plan, then who are we to question it?"
I bowed my head and intoned "The lord works in mysterious ways." The preacher bowed his head too. I squeezed his shoulder and gave it a little pat. "Anyway, we've got to keep moving. It was good meeting you. Keep fighting the good fight."
"I am in your debt." He clasped my hand and shook vigorously. "Should you need me, I will be there to fight by your side again."
"Adios, padre!" We headed off into the darkness once again. Poor bastard. You can only last so long in the Netherworld. The place is thick with paranoia, fear, and intolerable vibrations. It's just a matter of seeing how long you can go before you're finally overwhelmed by madnees. The preacher had obviously succumbed a long time ago. The Netherworld is not a good place for good men.
Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in the Netherworld
by Gus Andropolous
unpublished memoirs
The Dragons trudged wearily over the rocky terrain that surrounded the ruins on the northern bank of the Sunless Sea. They had been searching the area for hours, making their way through what seemed like hundreds of crumbling buildings, the remnants of a city that had long ago been abandoned by its forgotten makers. Huge chunks of stone choked the cracked streets, and the air was thick and musty. It made the Dragons tense and irritable, and they all withdrew into their own thoughts as they continued their search.
Moving ahead of the rest of the group, Suong suddenly froze. She crouched low and motioned to the other Dragons. They came up quietly behind her, and she motioned to a broken-down temple ahead of her. A crumbling archway loomed over the main entrance. Beyond it, the Dragons could see the faintest flicker of light reflecting off the walls. Silver Jet leaned close to Suong.
"What do you think?" he whispered.
"I don't know. I'll check it out. Wait here."
Suong crept over the rocks, moving with perfect silence. She peered inside the temple, and then motioned for the other Dragons to follow her inside. The main room was a vast, domed chamber ringed by smaller arched tunnels that tapered off into darkness, with one exception: faint but clear light could be seen flickering inside one of the passageways. Carved into the chamber's floor were a series of concentric rings bearing strange, indecipherable symbols, many of which had cracked or worn away. Silver Jet nodded toward the lit passage. Suong peered down the passage way, then motioned for the Dragons to follow.
The Dragons moved down the narrow, winding passageway, ignoring the side passages that branched off as they moved toward the flickering light. Finally, they came to the threshold of a small chamber. A cooking fire burned under a stewpot; otherwise the room contained little more than a pallet. A small figure in dusty white robes sat next to the fire, her back to the doorway. The Dragons stood silently outside the room, unmoving.
"Well, you're here. Why are you just standing there?" The woman's voice was old and thin, and it seemed strangely loud against the oppressive silence. "You came all this way, so you may as well come in."
The Dragons shuffled into the room and sat down around the fire, with Silver Jet facing the robed woman. She was small and ancient, her face lined with deep creases, her hair thin and silver-white. She barely looked at the Dragons as she tended to her pot.
"Aren't you going to introduce yourselves?"
"My name is Silver Jet, and these are my companions, Suong Xa, Bei Tairong, Gus Andropolous, and the Gunman."
The Gunman? What kind of a name is that?" Silver Jet looked vaguley discomfited. The Golden Gunman just shrugged. Everyone sat silently around the fire for several minutes, until Silver Jet finally cleared his throat and spoke again.
"We've come because we were told that there was a seer living in these ruins. A woman with the gift of second sight."
"I have the gift," the woman said quietly. "My name is Cassandra. She set down her ladle and looked at Silver Jet. "So why are you here?"
"We've come on behalf of her royal majesty, the Queen of the Ice Pagoda. She believes that the spirit of her father is being held captive, and we need to find out where he is. Can you help us?"
For a moment, a shadow seemed to pass across Cassandra's face. Silver Jet thought he saw a look of fear, but it was gone, perhaps nothing more than a trick of the light. Cassandra sighed and got to her feet. She picked up a small pack in the corner of the room and then turned back to Silver Jet.
"I can help you. Follow me."
Cassandra led the Dragons back to the main chamber of the temple, and had them sit in a circle around the center of the room. She sat in the middle of the circle, and laid out four small burners in a geometric pattern around her. She sprinkled a mixture of dried herbs and leaves into each one and set them alight, then closed her eyes and began to hum quietly and tunelessly to herself as smoke filled the air. It was cloying, and sickly sweet, and as it filled the room, each of the Dragons found themselves thinking strange thoughts, or recalling forgotten memories, or dreaming without sleeping. Silver Jet saw great cities rising from snow and ice, their rich jeweled hues sparkling against a sea of white. The Golden Gunman heard the sound of distant music: exotic, yet familiar, as shadows danced on the walls around him. Bei felt wet earth beneath her hands and feet, and smelled the bark and leaves of the rainforest around her. Gus felt the hot sun on his face as he sped across the Nevada desert behind the wheel of a fire-engine red Chevy convertible while "Sympathy for the Devil" played on the radio. As for Suong, she found herself remembering, with perfect clarity and precision, every lonely tunnel and forgotten passageway she had ever traversed in the Netherworld, as if she were walking them at that very moment.
Eventually, the incense burned out, the smoke cleared, and the Dragons found themselves back in the ruined temple, sitting in a circle, with Cassandra in the center.
"The spirit you seek is being held in the forest of stone spirals. Search there, and you will find him." Cassandra paused, and again, a shadow of fear passed over her features. "But be warned: death is near."
"Yes, he is." A voice echoed out of the shadows.
The Dragons spun around, weapons drawn. A host of skin and darkness zealots slithered out of the shadows, near-liquid darkness oozing from beneath their stitched-on skins. A phalanx of fire warriors, clad in Byzantine armor, poured into the room through the temple entryway. They were lead by Fakhir-al-Din, his fiery sword drawn and ready. He met Silver Jet's gaze, his eyes steely and arrogant. The Dragons looked around warily as the two forces surrounded them. Then a new figure emerged from the darkness. Outwardly, he resembled the shadowy things masquerading as men, but he was obviously stronger, more powerful, and more evil.
"Who are you?" said Silver Jet.
Chamberlain smirked, and then turned his attention to Cassandra, who huddled on the floor, staring up fearfully at the nightmare before her.
"You know too many secrets, old woman." His voice was silky and cruel. Chamberlain raised his hand, and inky tendrils of darkness seemed to swirl in his palm, coalescing into an obsidian-black blade. Chamberlain suddenly flicked his hand, and Cassandra let out a wordless cry as the blade pierced her throat. The Dragons stared, horrified, as her lifeless body crumpled to the ground. They looked back at Chamberlain. The hint of a smile played across his lips.
"Now you die."
Sweet Jesus, that was one hell of a trip!
I don't know what the hell that old woman burned, but it was damn potent. I was still clearing the smoke out of my brain when suddenly, they were all around us: vicious Turks with long curved swords and a mind for murder. And they weren't nearly the worst of it. Those things that came with them were like living shadows with skin stretched over them, seething with bad vibrations. My God, was I still hallucinating? Or had I finally stepped over the brink into absolute, full-blown madness? But then their leader came forward, and I knew that this was it. The run was up. I had rolled the dice one time too many, and now my check was about to be cashed. This was no Buro goon or dis-timed punk with delusions of grandeur. This was no mere demon. This was evil, pure and simple, in its most concentrated, undiluted, unmitigated form, and it was staring me right in the eyes.
And this, my friends, is where I truly learned what the Dragons were really all about. I learned what makes them different from every rabble-rouser, terrorist, murderer, and two-bit thug. You see, any other man or woman, faced with that terrible, awful gaze, would have run like a mindless, terrified animal, or fallen to their knees in a slobbering, gibbering mess. But not the Dragons. Faced with insurmountable odds, and up against overwhelming evil, they didn't run or hide or beg or negotiate. They charged. And they didn't do it out of some desperate, last-stand, fear-spawned madness. They did it because the idea of doing anything else never even crossed their minds.
Watching the Dragons go to battle is a breathtaking thing to behold. I hadn't really taken it in fully during the last fight. There was too much running, too much movement, for me to get a handle on things. But backed up against the crumbling walls of this temple, I could see everything with perfect clarity. The Dragons moved like precision instruments; there was no wild flailing or confused yelling of the sort you see in your average street fight. Their movements were slick and fluid, their minds sharp and focused. Their enemies, caught off guard by this sudden, coordinated resistance, fell back in confusion. Though they outnumbered the Dragons more than ten to one, their very numbers worked against them. The Turks were obviously used to battlefield combat: massed formations of troops crashing into enemy lines. They didn't know how to engage an enemy that didn't present a large, stationary target. As for the skin-shadows, it became apparent they were used to the kind of work that involved long knives in the dark. They didn't expect a victim who fought back.
Their leader was a different story, however. He didn't flinch or panic at this turn of events. He waited for his prey to come to him, and it did. Bei was the first. Mad with bloodlust, she let out an animal cry and leapt toward him with a kick that should have crushed his skull like a rotten egg. But he was too fast. He sidestepped her attack, and brought up his evil black blade as she passed by him. Bei let out a cry and dropped to the ground, blood pouring out of a deep wound in her side. The foul bastard picked her up with one hand and slammed her against the wall, holding her up by her throat. As she struggled and kicked in his grasp, he brought his knife up to deliver the death-blow.
It was then that I was faced with a moment of decision. Bei was about to die, and none of the other Dragons would reach her in time. Even though they were cutting through their foes at a fantastic pace, the sheer numbers were slowing them down. I was the only one who could reach her, but what hope did I have against that horrible, hell-spawned fiend? And yet, I found myself moving anyway. I grabbed a fallen sword off the ground, ran toward the thing, and plunged the blade right between its shoulder blades. I had expected some kind of resistance, but it was like pushing through thin, sandy mud. The thing lurched backwards, dropping Bei, and then spun around to face me. Oh sweet lord, I was looking right into its eyes. I saw two unfathomably deep pits, filled with a blackness that sucked out my soul. I froze, unable to move in the face of that horrible blackness, even as my mind screamed at me to run. But that thing held me fast in its gaze, and I knew that it didn't need a knife to finish me off. It was going to will me to death. Oh, mama, can this really be the end?
And then suddenly, the connection was broken. Suong swept the thing's legs out from under it, then grabbed me and pulled me aside. The thing leapt back to its feet, full of unholy rage. Then there was a single, pristine gunshot, and the top of its head exploded. It crumpled to the ground, and I saw the Gunman standing a few feet behind it. He was as still as a statue, and in his hand was a tiny pistol made entirely of gold. Good God, I needed a drink.
Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in the Netherworld
by Gus Andropolous
unpublished memoirs
Lui Man Wai sat in the Grotto of the Three Masters, his legs folded in the lotus position, his eyes closed in meditation. Some distance behind him, a young monk stood holding a scroll, waiting patiently. The monk went by many names, but Lui Man Wai knew her as "The Rat." Most didn't even know that she was a woman, much less the spymaster for the Guiding Hand.
"Approach, sister."
The Rat came forward and knelt before Lui Man Wai, briefly touching her forehead to the floor.
"Honored brother, I come with further news concerning the Ice Queen's wedding." The Rat handed a scroll to Lu, who read it carefully, then tucked it inside his robes.
"As we expected, the Ice Queen is planning all manner of celebrations in and around the Ice Pagoda. Naturally, we must pay our respects as well. Perhaps we might provide some entertainment?"
Lui looked at the Rat, one eyebrow raised slightly. The Rat nodded, and Lui allowed just a hint of a smile to appear on his face.
Rebecca Dupress read the latest intelligence report from the field, her face a hard and flinty mask. General Oliveira stood before her at attention, eyes focused straight ahead. He knew how Rebecca felt about failure.
"Is this a joke, General?"
"No, ma'am."
"According to this report, not only did we fail to kill the Dragons, but we also don't know their current whereabouts. Furthermore, the Broken Wheel Brigade was apparently attacked by forces from both the Fire and Darkness Pagodas, yet we have no intelligence that indicates why they've allied with each other, much less attacked our forces?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"This is pathetic, General." Rebecca tossed the report aside. "We've lost our opportunity to stop this wedding. Things have just become more complicated." Rebecca scowled.
"General, we have no choice but to try to stop this wedding from within the Ice Pagoda. We can't have this traced back to us though. We'll need a professional. I want a report of all the freelance agents who can be ready in twenty-four hours on my desk as soon as possible."
"Yes, ma'am."
We're also going to need a distraction. I'll have instructions for our agents in the Jammers within the hour."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You're dismissed."
"Yes, ma'am." General Oliveira turned toward the door.
"Oh, General."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Send a courier to Redglare Chapel as well. I have a message for the Reverend."
The stone spirals towered over the Dragons, looking like nothing so much as giant licorice sticks as they vanished upward into the darkness of the cavern. Some were no more than a foot or two wide, while others were as thick as an ancient redwood. Bei winced and held her side as they trudged past them. The others had wanted to return to the Ice Pagoda to get her medical attention, and there had been some talk of gathering reinforcements as well. However, they had decided that speed and secrecy were of the essence, and Bei had angrily refused to let the others take her back, insisting that she was fine, She did, however, allow Gus to support her until she was able to walk on her own. The spirals were oppressively silent, and though they covered an area smaller than the Sunless Sea Ruins, the very sameness of the spirals -- each of them an nearly identical pillar of twisted stone - made the journey tedious and wearisome.
"Look." Suong stopped and pointed, and the Dragons gaped in surprise. Off in the distance, surrounded by a cluster of spirals, was a traditional tiered-roof Chinese house, painted in cheerful reds and blues. As the Dragons moved closer, they saw that it sat in the middle of a classical Chinese garden. A quiet stream snaked between flowering plum blossom trees, and statues of revered Chinese philosophers and scholars overlooked artfully tiled murals on the ground. A small pavillion rested in the center of the garden, directly in front of the entry to the house. An old man with a long, white, beard sat inside the pavilion. He wore immaculate silk robes, and sipped tea from a delicate porcelain cup. He smiled as the Dragons approached.
"Ah, I see you've finally arrived. Welcome to my humble garden."
"Who are you?" Silver Jet asked. "What is this place?"
"Come, come, I think you should know that by now."
Silver Jet's brow furrowed in confusion, and then his eyes widened.
"The soul? Is it here?"
"Very good. Of course the soul is here. I knew you would find this place eventually. You have my admiration."
Where is it? Are you holding it?"
"Yes, it is here, and under my protection. Have no fear, it is in no danger from anyone else." The old man chuckled. "I used it as a beacon of sorts, so you would come here. "
"But why?"
"So you could hear a story of Critical Importance to you." The way he said it made the capital letters clearly audible. "Some years ago there was a sorcerer, a man of great power and ambition. He was given a mission: to seize an important Feng Shui site. For who, is not important any longer. What is important is that all would have gone according to plan, but for the interference of a band of so-called heroes." The old man's expression darkened, and he started to punctuate his speech with sharp hand motions. "Their meddling ruined his plans and caused his destruction."
He calmed himself and took a sip of tea. "Ah, that's quite good. Now where was I? Oh yes, the sorcerer was dead, but his spirit still lingered, and he would not rest until he had satisfied his thirst for vengeance. Unfortunately, the fools who had foiled his plans were all dead, denying him his just due. But they had friends and allies who still carried their banner, and spoke their names with reverence, so the sorcerer swore that he would take his revenge on them"
The Dragons looked at each other quizzically, not sure how to react to this monologue. Silver Jet spoke up first. "Are you trying to warn us about something?"
The old man took another sip of tea. "Yes, in fact, I am trying to warn you. But please, no more interruptions. Allow me to finish, and all will be made clear to you." Silver Jet nodded his head, but neither he nor the other Dragons was paying much attention to old man. They were checking out the spirals, wary of an ambush.
The old man continued. "But how to take this revenge? The sorcerer brooded and schemed for years, his existence one of endless frustration, until finally, good fortune smiled upon him. He discovered that, through a complex series of events, this group had released the soul of an important personage's father from the Underworld by using his skull to summon him." The old man set his teacup down and became more animated as he spoke. He was clearly warming up to his own story. "The sorcerer seized this opportunity; he stole the skull, and used it to bind the spiritto his will. Using his vast sorcerous skill, he coerced the ghost into revealing his secrets, and learned of a surprising connection unbeknownst to any save the father's ghost: one of this group had been the consort of the important personage prior to a certain critical shift. How providential."
"Where others would see only chance, he saw an opportunity for his long-delayed revenge! He used the ghost to visit dreams upon the consort and the important personage, knowing they would eventually connect and start a search for the father's ghost. And when they did, the sorcerer would be waiting. He would kill them, and when their friends came looking for them, he would kill them too!" The old man took a deep breath. "A thousand things could have gone wrong with such a plan, but the sorcerer managed it astutely! None but he could have made such a plan reach fruition! None! And now, you all d—" The old man stopped short as he realized his audience was no longer paying any attention to him. He tugged on Silver Jet's sleeve.
"Excuse me," he said crossly. "Critical Importance? Warning? Father's soul? Remember?"
"What? Oh, yes, sorry. My mind was wandering a bit there. Must be these stone spirals." Silver Jet crossed his arms. "So, you were going to tell us where the soul is, right?"
"Dolts! Were none of you listening?" The old man shook his head ruefully. "The smart ones must be dead already." he muttered. He sighed, seated himself on his chair and straightened his robe. He held out one hand and spoke slowly, ticking each point off his fingers as he went. "One, the important personage is Pi Tui, Queen of the Ice Pagoda. Two, the consort is you, Jin Sha. Three, the group is called 'The Dragons'. Four, I am the sorcerer of the story, none other than Jueding Shelun!" He paused for a moment, looking for recognition. Seeing none, he sighed and continued. "And five, now you die!"
The old man's voice echoed like thunder, and suddenly everything began to change. The plum blossoms withered and blackened, the stream ran red with blood, and the statues turned into dozens of hideous, slavering ogres. The beautiful house metamorphosed into a decrepit ruin, and the pavilion disappeared, leaving behind a throne made of human skulls. Shelun's eyes sank back into their sockets, his skin shriveled and turned purple, and maggots and beetles crawled throughout his filthy beard and his rotten, tattered robes. The ghostly sorcerer rose from his chair to hover above the ground.
"Are you paying attention now?" He let out an insane laugh. "Kill them!"
As the ogres surged forward, the Dragons leapt into action. The Golden Gunman whipped out his pistols and began firing, while Bei and Suong leapt into the fray. Even Gus, who had kept his sword from the last battle, let out a yell and charged. Silver Jet turned back toward Shelun, and he drew his silver sword.
"Give me the skull!"
Jueding Shelun laughed again and ped backwards toward the house, gliding above the ground. Silver Jet rushed toward him. Shelun raised his hands as he shouted out a spell. The earth began to shake, and Silver Jet tumbled to his knees as Shelun, still cackling, disappeared inside the house. As Silver Jet struggled to rise, the ground cracked, then split, sending up a huge column of red and purple smoke. Silver Jet looked up to see a massive demon towering above him. It was three times the height of a man, with purple skin, yellow eyes, and massive horns atop its head. It looked down at Silver Jet and roared. Silver Jet dove forward as the demon swung a massive claw at him. He rolled into a somersault, then slashed at the demon's foot with his sword. The demon roared again as glowing red ichor spurted from the wound on its foot, then slammed a massive backhand into Silver Jet, who flew across the cavern, dropping his sword. As he struggled to get to his feet, the demon grabbed him with a meaty talon. Silver Jet struggled futilely as the foul horror brought him up to its gaping maw.
Suddenly, the cavern rang out with the sound of twin, booming cannons. The demon roared as wounds erupted across its body, and it released its grip. Silver Jet dropped and rolled, and then looked over to see the Reverend Zebediah Paine standing there, firing with both of his Desert Eagles, a look of righteous satisfaction on his face. As Zeb's clips emptied, Silver Jet grabbed his sword and thrust it into the demon's thigh. It stumbled backwards, roaring in agony, and Silver Jet rushed to the reverend's side.
"How did you find us?"
"As I said, if you needed me, I'd be there. Divine providence showed me the way."
The Golden Gunman came running over. "Are you ok over here?"
"We can handle this," Silver Jet replied. "Go after Shelun, and get the skull!" The Golden Gunman nodded and ran for the house as the demon came rushing toward Silver Jet and the Reverend.
"Let's kick some ass for the Lord!" Zeb opened fire once again as Silver Jet grinned and rushed toward the demon.
The Golden Gunman kicked open the doors to the house and looked inside. The interior was cluttered with sorcererous paraphenalia: shrunken heads, bottles of strange liquids, ancient tomes, weird animals in cages, mummified hands. The place was a dark and twisted maze. The Golden Gunman moved forward carefully, looking for any sign of movement. Suddenly, there was a sharp, mocking laugh from the darkness. The Golden Gunman whirled, bringing his gun to bear on the leering sorcerer. Then he screamed in pain as a dagger flew off the wall at Shelun's command and buried itself in his shoulder. The golden gun dropped from his nerveless fingers as Shelun laughed. The sorcerer waved his hand, flinging the Golden Gunman up against the wall with a loud crack. The Gunman clawed at his throat, gasping for breath, as Shelun twisted his fingers into a clawlike shape.
"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. You will now have the honor of being the first to die!"
It took a few minutes before the blood-fueled rage passed, and I took stock of what was going on. Sweet Jesus, what the hell was I doing? Where had this psychotic madness that had overtaken me come from? What the hell was I doing out here, running around with a sword like some kind of deranged lunatic? I was a doctor of journalism for God's sake. Besides, Suong and Bei seemed to have the the Ogres well in hand, and Silver Jet and that crazy preacher were battling it out with the biggest demon I had ever seen. It was high time I re-evaluated the situation.
"The house," Silver Jet yelled. "Get to the house!"
Oh, right, the house. Well, it was probably no worse in there than it was out here. I sprinted toward the door with an almost giddy anticipation. I had faced death so many times today that I had long since passed the point of being scared, and I was running on pure adrenaline. I ran through the entrance, then skidded to a stop. The inside of the house was filled with the kind of cheap tourist junk you can buy at any airport souvenir shop, if the airport is in hell. But that didn't concern me. In the corner of the room I saw the Gunman flattened against the wall, held near the ceiling in some invisible death-grip. Below him that rat-bastard sorcerer Shelun stood there, laughing insanely.
That was it. Maybe I had dealt with one too many murderous psychotics that day, but something inside me snapped. I let out a wild yell and charged. Shelun had this weird, puzzled look on his face as I barrelled toward him. For a minute there, I thought I had him. I thought that maybe the sight of this raving, frothing, half-mad lunatic charging straight at him had so unnerved him that he fallen into a kind of temporary paralysis. But then I realized that I had made a fatal miscalculation as I passed straight through him and slammed headfirst into a shelf, bringing a hailstorm of bottles and jars crashing down upon my head. As I staggered to my feet, an invisible force grabbed me and flung me backwards.
"Idiot. I'm a ghost. What did you think would happen?" I have to admit, he had a good point there.
"Th...the...g-gun." I looked up to see the Gunman frantically trying to communicate between strangled breaths. Then I saw the golden gun on the floor, no more than a few feet away, and the meaning of his words hit me. I dove across the floor for that magical weapon. It had punched that evil, skin-covered bastard's ticket back at the ruins. It should have no trouble handling this deranged swine. Unfortunately, Shelun figured this out at the same time I did. As I brought the gun up to fire, he waved his hand, and I was flung against another shelf. I felt bones snapping as I dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, the shelf above me came crashing down and the whole world started to go black. No! I can't go out like this! Not yet! Fighting through the pain and the onrushing darkness, I struggled to reach for the gun. Shelun casually walked over to me and ground my fingers beneath his heel.
"Did I forget to mention that I can become solid whenever I want?" he asked, grinning. I wish I could tell you that I made some kind of heroic speech or defiant gesture. I didn't. Everything hurt too much. I just wanted the psychotic bastard to get it over with. But then I noticed Silver Jet coming up behind him, and I smiled.
"Good," I said.
"Eh?" Shelun replied. Then Silver Jet slammed his sword into the sorcerer's body. Shelun looked down stupidly at the silver blade sticking out of his chest, then he vanished in a cloud of dust. Right about then, I decided it would be a good time to pass out.
Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in the Netherworld
by Gus Andropolous
unpublished memoirs
Tong Wai stood in Gao Zhang's chambers in the imperial palace, trembling with fear. Tong Wai was a messenger in the service of the imperial court, and the job of messenger had lately become a very dangerous job. Messengers who brought bad news had an alarming tendency to disappear, and bad news seemed to be the norm these days. Tong Wai watched Gao Zhang read the message, sweat beading in thick, salty droplets on his forehead. Judging by the scowl on Gao's face, the news had not been good.
"Idiot!" Gao Zhang shouted suddenly. "Imbecile! Fool! How dare he act without my permission! I am surrounded by traitors and half-wits!" Veins pounded in his forehead, and his skin had become an angry shade of crimson. Gao Zhang forced himself to take several deep breaths. The court physician had warned him that these angry outbursts were bad for his heart. Gao had ordered the physician's entrails pulled out through his eye-sockets, but still, it was good advice. Gao began to pace across the floor, his mind working furiously. The situation with Jueding Shelun had caught him by surprise. As such, he had missed a valuable opportunity. But what was done, was done. Now there was the matter of the Ice Queen's wedding. No doubt all of the factions would have agents present. He needed to get someone on the inside as well, but who? The Queen would be watching for assassins and saboteurs. How could he infiltrate the ceremony?
Suddenly, Gao Zhang stopped, struck by inspiration. He dashed over to his desk, and quickly wrote out a series of instructions on a scroll, which he sealed with his chop.
"Servant!" he yelled. When there was no response, he looked around the room. Had he killed the messenger again? He couldn't remember. Then he noticed a body sprawled out on the floor. Gao Zhang strode closed and poked the unconscious form with his toe. Tong Wai did not stir, a look of fear frozen on his face.
Gao Zhang sighed.
2-Way Ray looked out at the crowd gathered in the Genocide Lounge. It was a good crowd for a show: not too drunk, not too hostile, and buzzing with just the right kind of energy. Behind him, Hal 2000 made some last minute adjustments to his set-up. Once Nik hit the stage, they'd be ready to go. Ray watched her out of the corner of his eye as she talked to a scrounger in one of the corner booths. She had said that the scrounger had a line on a big gig coming up. After a few minutes, the guy took off, and Nik walked unhurriedly to the stage.
"So, Nik, what's the deal? Was the scrounger for real or what?"
"Yeah, check this out: you know the Ice Queen is getting married, right? And she's throwing a big party?"
"Yeah, so?"
"Well, check this: someone hired us to put on a show right outside the Pagoda."
"Who? The Queen?"
"Hell no," Nik said, slinging on her guitar. "Well, I don't think so. The scrounger doesn't know who's paying, but who cares? They're gonna pay us a ridiculous amount of money."
"Serious? And this scrounger is on the up-and-up?"
"Yeah. He's gonna have the cash for us tomorrow. All we gotta do is show up."
"Well, if we're gonna play for the queen," Hal said from behind his drum kit, "then we better do it right. If she wants to have a party, we'll have to make it a real party."
"Hell yeah," Nik said, grinning. "Bring along a few friends and crash the joint. What do you think, Ray?"
"I think I know where we can find some friends." Ray turned to the crowd and grabbed his mic.
"Yo, what's up? Welcome to the show. Before we get going, I have some special news. Two Face is going to be putting on a free concert, and we want you all to be there!" A ragged cheer went up from the audience.
"We're going to be playing in honor of the Ice Queen's wedding." Ray smirked, and the audience chuckled. "So show up outside the gates of the Ice Pagoda on the day of the wedding, and we'll show them how to really party!" The audience broke into a loud cheer. Ray nodded to Nik and Hal, and Two Face launched into the first set of the evening.
"This is Columbia Towson, reporting from the Ice Pagoda, where we'll be bringing you live coverage of the wedding of the Queen of the Ice Pagoda and her consort and champion, Silver Jet on IKTV. I'm currently standing outside the gates of the Ice Pavilion which, according to my sources, was shaped by her highness herself specifically for the wedding. As you can see, it's a magnificent building. Naturally, it's all constructed of shaped ice, and it's big enough to hold all the guests coming from across the Inner Kingdom, including the Ice Queen's siblings. We have our very own Laurel Towson reporting from inside the Pavilion itself. Laurel, are you there?"
"I'm here. We're inside the Ice Pavilion. As you can see, it's even more magnificent inside than it is outside. Truly breathtaking, and fitting for a royal wedding."
"What's going on inside there now Laurel?"
"At the moment, the guests are taking their seats. We've got some really big names here. Both the Queen of the Darkness Pagoda and the King of the Fire Pagoda are here with their retinues."
"That's a bit of a surprise, isn't it? The Four Monarchs aren't known for being on the best of terms with each other."
"It is indeed a surprise, Columbia. Relations between these four siblings haven't always been cordial. However, it looks like they've decided to put aside their differences for this joyous occasion. So far, everything seems to be fine. Of course, just to make sure things go smoothly, the Ice Queen has instituted a strict "no weapons" policy, so it looks like there shouldn't be any problems today."
"I understand that the King of the Thunder Pagoda will, in fact, be conducting the ceremony. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that's right Columbia. I've been told by the Ice Queen's chief of staff that the ceremony is going to be a mix of eastern and western styles. It's a little unusual, but definitely daring. I predict that this will be the event that the Inner Kingdom will be talking about for years to come."
"Well, it's already generated a lot of buzz. From what I hear, not only was this wedding sudden and unexpected, but it's caused a bit of controversy as well."
"It certainly has been unusual all around. This wedding was announced out of the blue, catching everyone by surprise. And the groom himself is a bit of a mystery man. You can see him waiting up by the altar, looking quite impressive in his white tuxedo and red sash. There are rumors that he's associated with the Dragons, who are themselves something of a mysterious group. There are some other guests here today who are rumored to have links to the Dragons as well. This includes the notoriously camera-shy individual known only as 'The Prof,' the alleged leader of the Dragons, and her alleged 'enforcer,' a shadowy figure known only as 'The Gunman,' who is also serving as the best man. It certainly adds an air of excitement to this Silver Jet. He cuts quite a dashing figure."
"Thank you, Laurel. We'll cut back to you once the wedding gets underway."
"Thank you, Columbia."
"That was Laurel Towson, IKTV reporter, coming to you live from inside the Ice Pavilion, where we're bringing you live coverage of the wedding of the Queen of the Ice Pagoda. Right now I'm standing just outside the Pavilion gates, where things are getting rather festive. It seems an impromptu party is forming out here, and even the normally stern guards are laughing and smiling. I think I saw them passing a bottle around earlier. Anyway, the Ice Queen has planned all manner of entertainment and festivities to celebrate her wedding. Right now, I'm here with Li Pao. Now, Li Pao is the leader of the Leaping Tiger Troupe. Is that right?
"Yes, that is correct."
"The Leaping Tiger Troupe is a traditional Peking Opera company. What exactly does that involve, Mr. Li?"
"Acrobatics. Dancing. Martial Arts. Music. Dramatic speaking."
"I see. And so you'll be performing for the guests during the wedding reception?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"Great... well, if that isn't enough, there will be a second acrobatic troupe performing as well. They didn't want to grant us an interview, but you can see another troupe practicing over there. They call themselves 'The Red Dragon Troupe.' So, Mr. Li, are you familiar with this team? What do you think of the competition?"
"They are murderous, lying vermin. Mercenaries and assassins who blight the earth with their presence. They are filth who will be cleansed when China is restored to it's former glory!"
"Er... thank you. And over here we have 2-Way Ray, frontman for the popular underground band 'Two Face.' How are you doing today, Ray?"
"Doing fine, Columbia."
"Great. It's a little surprising to see you here today. Your group has a reputation for being hard-edged, for having a sort of anti-authoritarian, underground kind of thing going on. I wouldn't have expected to see you playing here."
"Well, yeah, it's not a typical venue for us. But you know, we think our being here is making a statement. We're here to say that this isn't just about the Monarchs, that this isn't just about the power elites and their big celebration. While they're in there, we'll be out here, reminding them that we are the people of the Netherworld, that we are the real power, and that they can't shut us up. We're gonna show them what a real party is like."
"Well, it looks like a lot of your fans have shown up to support you. It sounds like it's going to be an exciting show."
"Yeah, I think everyone is going to be talking about this one. The fans are here and everyone is excited and having a good time. I just want to let everyone out there watching know that there's still time to get down here. We're putting on a free show, and the more people that show up, the better. Come down here and let your voice be heard."
"All right. Well, thank you Ray. We'll catch up with you a little later. Right now I'm getting word that the ceremony is about to begin. So let's cut back to Laurel and live coverage of the wedding of the Queen of the Ice Pagoda."
"Thank you Columbia. The queen's steward has just asked everyone to take their seats. Now we hear the music starting up. It's the traditional western wedding march, but played on Chinese instruments. It sounds lovely, doesn't it? Now the doors are opening, and everyone is rising again. Oh, look, here comes the queen's retinue. She's being brought in with full pomp and ceremony. There's her honor guard, in their sparkling ice armor, and here come her bridesmaids. Don't they look beautiful? Oh, and there's the Queen herself. She's being carried in on a sedan chair in the Chinese tradition. Oh, look at her gown. In keeping with the theme of the wedding, she's gone with a mix of western and eastern styles. She's wearing a jewel-tone silk dress with a fitted bodice decorated with tiny amethysts, an attached train in red satin, and a red silk veil crowned with a tiara of gold, amethyst, and ice crystals."
"It sounds fabulous. Is it a Vera Wang?"
"I'll have to get back to you on that. The Queen has reached the altar. She's being helped off her chair by Silver Jet. Now they're kowtowing to heaven and earth and their ancestors, again, in the Chinese tradition. Ok, now they're rising and facing the King of the Thunder Pagoda.
"And how his majesty looking?"
"Very majestic, and quite striking. There was a lot of buzz about whether he'd be going with his signature "bare-chested" look, but he's come decked out in his finest ceremonial robes. They're sparkling white, and inlaid with gold, silver, and sparkling crystals. And of course, he's wearing the mitre too. He's got kind of a papal/Elvis thing going on. Not too many people could pull off this look, but the King of the Thunder Pagoda can."
"What's going on now?"
"Well, it sounds like the King is performing the ceremony. This part is being done in a more traditional western style. Ok, he's now just reached the part where he asks anyone to speak up if they have any reason why this ceremony should not take place. He seems to be looking right at his brother and sister as he's saying this."
"Oooh, think they'll speak up?"
"Ha ha no. I think this ceremony is going to go quite smoothly. Ok, now they're presenting each other with the rings. Just a little side note: her highness crafted these herself. Her ring is silver, while his is made of enchanted ice. It's meant to symbolize their devotion to each other. Quite a departure from the traditional bands of gold."
"It certainly is, but the Queen of the Ice Pagoda is known for setting trends, not following them. I bet we'll be seeing the same thing all across the Inner Kingdom next year."
"I bet you're right. Ok, we're now at the climax of the ceremony. The Queen has just recited her vows, and now Silver Jet is reciting his. He's just said 'I do.' And now the King has just pronounced them man and wife. Silver Jet has lifted the Queen's veil ...and they're kissing. The crowd is cheering. Wow, what an event! Truly a royal wedding!"
"It certainly is. Thank you Laurel. That was Laurel Towson, coming to you live from the wedding of the Queen of the Ice Pagoda. Stay with us as we continue to bring you live coverage of the day's festivities. I'm Columbia Towson, reporting for IKTV."
2-Way Ray belted out the last line of Frag The G as the audience went wild. When they had started playing, there were maybe a few hundred people gathered around the makeshift stage. Now, there were thousands. Ray felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he looked out over the crowd. They were a great seething mass, charged up with animal energy and ready to blow. Now was the time to let them loose. Ray nodded to Hal, who picked up the Sonic Reducer, an instrument which looked vaguely like a cross between a synthesizer and a blunderbuss. Ray nodded to Nik, who nodded back, and then he turned to face the crowd again.
"Hey, everyone out there having a good time?" The crowd responded with an enthusiastic, drunken roar.
"Alright. Now it's time to really get this party going! We'd like to do a new number for you that we call 'Crash The Party.' Let's do it Hal."
Hal turned the Sonic Reducer toward the Ice Pavilion and his fingers danced on the keys. A wall of sound came blasting out of the barrel, slamming into the guards like a battering ram, and sending the Ice Tigers at the entrance running, howling in pain. Ray turned back toward the crowd.
"Why should the Queen and her guests have all the fun, huh? We're at the biggest bash in the Inner Kingdom, so why don't we show them how to really party!" Behind him, Nik let out a yell, and the crowd went berserk. Ray and Nik and Hal jumped off the stage as one and raced toward the entrance to the Pavilion, the crowd following behind them, hell-bent on destruction.
"...the Thunder King's arena warriors have just finished their display of arms, and I understand that next the King of the Fire Pagoda has arranged for... what's that? I'm getting something from Columbia outside the gates, but we're having some kind of technical problem. I can't quite..."
Laurel Towson looked toward the doors of the Pavilion, her eyes wide.
"Oh my God."
The doors exploded open, and hundreds of Netherworld rabble came rushing in, with the members of Two Face leading the way.
Pi Tui stared in silence at the pandemonium that had broken out around her. Hordes of rabble had swarmed into the room, and like a match to a powder keg, the reception had exploded into chaos. The rabble fought with the guards, the acrobats fought with each other, and Huan Ken's drunken knights fought with anyone nearby. It seemed that everyone who had a grudge with anyone was taking the opportunity to settle some scores. Only Pi Tui remained untouched, the eye at the center of the storm. Suddenly, Hal 2000 broke out of the crowd and ran toward her.
"Eat this, Imperialist scum!" Hal leveled the Sonic Reducer at Pi Tui, and she responded by waving her hand at him. Instantly, the Sonic Reducer turned into an albino python. Hal fell to the ground, kicking frantically, as the snake wrapped itself around his body.
"You witch!"
Pi Tui turned to see Nik standing nearby, a piece of wedding cake in her hand. Before the Ice Queen could react, Nik hurled it through the air. It struck Pi Tui directly in the face with a loud splat. Nik looked at the Ice Queen defiantly as the Queen wiped away the frosting, then wilted as she saw her eyes burning with rage. Then she noticed Huan Ken and Silver Jet standing on either side of Pi Tui, both of them looking like volcanoes ready to erupt.
"Oh crap."
Nik turned to run, but Huan Ken crossed the floor in a single bound. He slammed into her, sending her sprawling to the hard ice floor, and then grabbed the front of her shirt and hoisted her into the air above him.
"Filthy peasant dog!" He yelled. "How dare you! I'll see you torn limb from limb and your bones ground into meal!"
"Let her go!"
Huan Ken turned to see 2-Way Ray come rushing toward him, the rabble surging behind him. Before the Thunder King could react, the crowd crashed into him, and he was engulfed by the sea of humanity.
Dr. Ngubane stood in a hallway just outside the reception hall in the Ice Pavilion, watching the mayhem unfold. He smiled slightly at his good fortune. This would make his mission a lot easier. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small case, about the size of an engagement ring box. Inside, something small and chitinous stirred, unfolding its legs and wings, revealing a grotesque, insect-like creature about six inches in length, with long, spidery legs and an elongated, translucent stinger filled with green venom. Dr. Ngubane looked down at the thing with a mixture of awe and revulsion.
"Go," he said.
The creature beat it's wings experimentally, and then flew out of the box toward the reception hall, seeking it's target.
A lone assassin moved silently through the tumult, molested by none, despite the violence around him. He had no name, at least none that anyone knew. He was simply known as "Six," or sometimes "Ninja Six," though even the origins of that appellation were shrouded in mystery. He ignored the chaos surrounding him as he focused on his quarry, Silver Jet. He stayed near, yet moved cautiously, so as not to give himself away. He had been informed to wait for a distraction before striking, and a distraction had certainly been provided. Yet, he hesitated. The time wasn't right. Not yet. His instincts told him to wait, and he had learned to trust his instincts long ago. This was just the opening act, a precursor to the real chaos. When the moment arrived, and when his prey was truly overwhelmed, then he would carry out his orders, and Silver Jet would die.
Plates of rare delicacies and glasses full of rare, vintage wine from realities that were no more flew across the room with abandon, covering guests, guards, and unwelcome visitors alike in rich creamy sauces, sweet, ripened fruit, and sugary white frosting. Deprived of their usual weapons, the combatants had turned to fists, feet, and anything within reach. At first the sides had been clearly drawn, but as the battle raged, the melee broke down into a messy free-for-all. An Aztec prince dumped a soup tureen over the head of an Inuit Shaman, while spiky-haired punks pelted armored knights with cream-filled pastries. The Dragons, scattered throughout the hall, tried fruitlessly to regroup. The Prof had backed herself against a wall while Bei viciously thrashed anyone who got too close, and Silver Jet battled his way through the crowd, trying to get back to Pi Tui. Miraculously, his white tuxedo was completely unspattered.
Suddenly, the crowd surged away from the entrance. Reverend Redglare stepped into the room and looked around. Behind him followed a horde of fanatic disciples. Unlike the guests, they were all armed. The Reverend surveyed the room, his red LED gaze passing over the combatants as his gun arm clicked quietly.
"Well, my brothers and sisters," he said, his voice electronic, yet also distinctly southern, "it looks we have us a heathen ceremony of some kind here, complete with all manner of wickedness, depravity, and sin. Isaiah 13:9 says 'Behold the day of the Lord cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger, to lay the land desolate.' Well, the day of the Lord is here. We come forth with the sword of righteousness, the shield of justice, and the guns of vengeance to lay waste to his enemies! Praise be his name, brothers and sisters, because now it's time for the desolatin' to begin!"
"It's time for the desolatin' to begin!"
The Golden Gunman dropped into the gun moment. Redglare's words became only sounds, stripped of meaning and fading, like all unnecessary stimulus, into the white noise. He saw the whole messy tableau was laid out before him in that absolute, frozen clarity that comes only in the gun moment. He saw Redglare starting to raise the Desert Eagle in his right hand, and his deadly gun arm coming up as well. He saw Silver Jet across the room, just turning toward Redglare and beginning a step forward. He saw the assassin lurking behind Silver Jet, moving to draw a blade. He saw the tiny arcanotech bug thing in mid-flight, and knew, as he could only know in the gun monent, it was malicious and heading for the Prof.
And he didn't have a gun.
The moment broke with a gunshot, as it always does, but not his gunshot, as it usually did. He was already moving. Dodge, leap, dive roll. He came up on his feet, looking down the barrel of the still-smoking Desert Eagle, as Redglare's finger tightened on the trigger for a second shot.The Golden Gunman saw the Reverend's LED gaze hone in on him, and his left arm lashed out, knocking Redglare's arm aside as the weapon boomed. He ducked under Redglare's arm, spun around, grabbed it, and then twitsed as Redglare opened fire again. The slug tore across the room, cutting a gash in Silver Jet's left shoulder before slamming into Ninja Six's chest, throwing him backward into the crowd. The Golden Gunman held onto Redglare's right arm as he ducked under it and spun again, then grabbed Redglare's left arm as he opened fire. A pair of razor-sharp silver crucifixes shot out from the Reverend's gun arm, making a weird keening noise as they flew across the room. The first whipped just over the Prof's head, taking a lock of her frizzy hair with it. The second nicked her right ear, then neatly sliced the bug thing in half before embedding itself in the pillar behind. The Golden Gunman then twisted and spun again, jamming Redglare's Desert Eagle into his gut and pulling the trigger. There was a muffled roar, and then a shower of sparks erupted out of the Reverend's back. He let out a mechanical gurgle and slumped to the floor, his eye dark.
On the other side of the chamber, Li Ting watched the Golden Gunman, a puzzled look on his face. His short battle with Reverend Redglare had reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.
"Brother."
Li Ting turned to see Ming I standing next to him. She inclined her head toward a set of double doors on the other side of the room. The guards who had been posted there had long since gotten lost in the fracas.
"The Pagoda?" Li Ting asked. Ming I nodded.
"Shall we?"
The King of the Fire Pagoda bowed his head slightly, and the two made their way quietly around the edge of the room, through the double doors, and out of the pavilion.
The wedding reception had degenerated into an orgy of mindless violence, the culmination of years of frustration, madness, and pent-up rage bubbling up to the surface like a thick, poisonous tar. The people who now rampaged throughout the pavilion had been kicked around, spit-on, and ground into the dirt, and now, by God, it was time for some payback. The result was like being on a bad acid trip in a street riot. How else would you explain Genghis Khan hurling a soufflé at Ivan the Terrible? And then there were the polar bears. My god, polar bears! I kept my head down, stuck to the corners, and had a cigarette and a drink. Only a suicidal lunatic would have thrown themselves into that fray. There were sharks in that water, and they could smell the blood.
Laurel Towson and her camera crew crept over to me. They were spattered with what appeared to be a mixture of creamed spinach and eggplant parmesan.
"Gus," she said breathlessly, "we just caught the Fire King and the Darkness Queen sneaking out of the reception." She nodded her head toward a set of double doors.
"So?"
"So? So don't you think that's a little strange?" I have to admit, she had a point. Why would those two corrupt psychopaths skulk out in the middle of all this, when they had a ripe opportunity for some serious grandstanding and mayhem? I felt the wheels turning in my head, and then I knew that I'd been hooked.
"All right. Let's go."
We skulked around the edge of the room, desperately trying to avoid drawing any attention to ourselves. No, don't mind us. Nothing suspicious going on over here. You can put that bowl of lobster bisque down now, thank you very much. We finally made it out of the room and into a hallway made of ice. The cool silence of that hall stood out in sharp contrast to the howling madness we had left behind. We followed the hallway to the entrance to the throne room. Li Ting and Ming I were there already, their backs to us. We crept around the edge of the room, behind the pillars, until we could get a better look at them. They were standing next to a pedestal, looking down at their father's skull. Laurel motioned to her cameraman to start taping while I listened in on their conversation.
"You assured me that your servant would retrieve the skull, sister. Obviously, he failed."
"You blame me for this? How dare you!"
"Who else should I blame? This was your idea."
"I don't recall that you had any better ideas."
"If your servant hadn't been so incompetent, we... wait." The Fire King paused, distracted, then he and the Queen turned to face us.
"It seems we are not alone," he said. That was it. The game was up. There was no way to lie my way out of this one. I was going to have to tackle it head on.
"That's right," I said, stepping out from behind the pillar. "You're busted. Conspiracy, piracy, assassination, and attempted murder. We've got you dead to rights on this one. What do you have to say for yourself?" It was a foolishly insane act of bravado on my part. My only hope was that they'd be stunned by the sheer audacity of it all. The Monarchs are so used to obsequious kowtowing that sometimes you can get one over on them by going 180 degrees in the other direction.
"Dead to rights," Ming I hissed. "Yes, that sounds like a very good idea." The air grew thick and heavy, and the room seemed to close in on me as their eyes burned even brighter. It was clear that my plan had failed miserably. My brain was screaming at me to get the hell out of there, but I couldn't move. We were screwed, and they knew it.
Suddenly, two silver and white objects flew past me. There was a loud, violent splatter, and suddenly I could move and breathe again. I heard the Thunder King's booming laughter behind me, and I saw that Ming I and Li Ting's faces were covered with custard and cream.
"I've always wanted to do that," Huan Ken laughed. I turned to see him striding in, along with the Ice Queen, Silver Jet, the Prof, and Suong Xa. The Prof came over to me.
"Are you ok?" She asked.
"Sure. No problem," I said. As a journalist, it was vitally important that I maintain my cool in this situation. That much I was sure of. "What's going on?"
"Someone tried to kill the Prof with an assassin bug," Suong said. "We're looking for the two Buro scientists."
"Care to come with us?" The Prof asked. I grinned a little. Hanging around with the Dragons, I realized, had given me an adrenaline addiction.
"What about these two?" I nodded toward Li Ting and Ming I, who glared at us through masks of creamy frosting.
"Leave them to me," Pi Tui said, her voice icy. "I'll deal with them myself." I nodded, then got out of there in a hurry. Things were about to get very ugly, and I didn't want to be around to see it.
"Bei and the Golden Gunman already went on ahead to the tunnels under the Pagoda." The Prof said as we hurried out of the throne room. "We're heading there now." I paused for a moment. The Golden Gunman? That really was his name after all. In some way I couldn't quite fathom, it all made perfect sense. Silver Jet. The Golden Gunman. Why hadn't I noticed that before, and what did it mean? I was pondering this mystery as we descended into the tunnels, a labyrinth of concrete hallways at odds with the fairy-tale trappings above. There were no reflecting pools or crystal gardens down here, and I began to realize there was more to the Queen than met the eye. It wasn't long before we ran into the Golden Gunman himself.
"Where's Bei?" The Prof asked.
"I'm not sure. We split up a while ago."
A loud crack echoed through the tunnels, and I felt the muscles in my neck tighten. We all rushed toward it, and found Bei slumped in the doorway of one of the labs, clutching a bloody wound on her shoulder. Dr. Ngubane stood above her, his eyes wide, holding a Buro 9 to her head. The Buro 9 is the standard issue weapon for all Buro operatives, a blocky, graceless nine millimeter pistol, wholly lacking in charm or style. It is, however, very concealable, and very deadly at close range.
"Don't come any closer," he said, his voice quivering with fear. The Dragons all froze.
"Put the gun down, doctor," the Prof said softly. "There's nowhere you can go. We promise we won't hurt you."
"Stay back!" Ngubane said, almost shrieking. This was bad. A cornered rat is the most dangerous animal in the world. Ngubane knew he was trapped, and now he was desperate. If he tipped over into panic, things would end up bloody.
"C'mon doc," I said, smiling. "Let's talk about this like civilized men. I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding." Ngubane looked at me, wild-eyed, his hands trembling. I could see he was trying to figure things out, but it was all moving too fast for him. The important thing was to keep him distracted. Don't let him think about the gun.
"Get back!" He pointed the gun at me, and then back at Bei's head. I raised my hands in a conciliatory gesture.
"Take it easy. I'm sure we can work this out."
"I swear, I'll kill–" The gunshot cut him off in mid sentence. Everyone stiffened, including Dr. Ngubane, who then dropped to the floor with a dull thud. I looked into the room beyond and saw Dr. Damiri standing there, holding a smoking pistol in his hand.
Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in the Netherworld
by Gus Andropolous
unpublished memoirs
The battle continued to rage as Pi Tui and Huan Ken returned to the pavilion. Li Ting and Ming I followed behind them, floating about an inch above the ground. Glowing bluish-white rings of magical energy encircled them, pinning their arms to their sides. Pi Tui sighed as she surveyed the room. Most of the delicately shaped ice-crystal tables and chairs had been smashed or overturned, the carefully arranged centerpieces had been strewn about and trampled underfoot, and the decorative wall hangings, made from the most tasteful crimson satin, were now spattered with food. Suddenly, a plate of chocolate panna cotta with port and balsamic glazed cherries soared through the air, striking Pi Tui square in the chest. Her face turned a red as deep as the satin as she looked down at her ruined dress, while behind her Li Ting and Ming I snickered and Huan Ken swore angrily. When Pi Tui looked up again, her eyes were blazing with anger.
"Enough!" Pi Tui shot up toward the ceiling, her voice echoing like a sonic boom through the pavilion. The combatants all froze and cowered in fear as Pi Tui spread her arms wide.
"This ends now!" The Ice Queen loomed, awesome and terrible above the crowd, and the air turned suddenly cold and icy. Then Pi Tui laughed, her voice like tinkling crystal, and a delicate snow began to fall. At first, the combatants stared in stupefied wonder, and then, aside from the Monarchs, they all fell as one into a deep, gentle sleep. Pi Tui descended softly to the ground as the snowfall stopped, and Huan Ken let out a deep, booming laugh.
"Most impressive sister," he said, grabbing a punch bowl from a nearby table. He tilted it to his lips and drained half of it, then stopped as he eyed his bound siblings.
"I've just had a brilliant idea." Huan Ken glanced down at his punch bowl, then at Li Ting and Ming I, and then over at a second punch bowl. Pi Tui followed his gaze, and smiled slightly.
"That is a brilliant idea, brother. May I join you?" She asked, picking up the second bowl.
"You wouldn't dare!" Li Ting said, his face white.
"Please, I insist. It is your wedding day, after all."
"I warn you," Ming I said, her voice quavering, "there will be a reckoning for this!"
Pi Tui and Huan Ken turned to each other, and bowed slightly.
"Cheers," Pi Tui said.
"Cheers," Huan Ken replied.
They turned in unison, and dumped the punch bowls over their sibling's heads.
Hours later, Pi Tui and the Dragons sat around a table in the pavilion, drinking and talking quietly. Li Ting, Ming I, and all the other guests, not to mention the party crashers, had all been unceremoniously dumped out in the snow and told to go home by well armed ice warriors who were far less convivial than they had been a few hours ago. Huan Ken had also taken his leave, after thanking Pi Tui for the most fun he'd had in years. Laurel and Columbia and the rest of the IKTV staff, with the exception of Gus, had also left, the two sisters eager to begin editing their footage. The pavilion still looked as if it had been struck by a hurricane, but otherwise, everything was calm and peaceful.
"So what do you think about this other scientist, Dr. Damiri?" Pi Tui asked.
"I don't know," The Prof said, her voice thoughtful. "He might be another agent. I wouldn't put it past him to kill his partner in order to maintain his own cover. Still, it's obvious that Ngubane's orders were to kill me, and he failed. He didn't expect to see me here, so they couldn't have been his original orders. Obviously, whoever gave the order considered this important enough to have Ngubane jeopardize his original mission. If Damiri was also an agent, I'd assume his master would have given him the same order.
Pi Tui nodded. "He will be watched closely."
"What about the assassin who tried to kill you?" Gus said, turning to Silver Jet.
"I don't know," Silver Jet replied, frowning. "There are many who had reason to want to see this wedding halted. We have no way of knowing who was behind this." Pi Tui took Silver Jet's hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, and she smiled at him.
"And what of your father?" The Prof asked Pi Tui.
"He will finally be given a proper burial, and the honor that he is due," Pi Tui said softly, her smile fading. There were quiet murmurs and nods around the table, and everyone found themselves staring at their glasses, or around the room. Silver Jet turned to Pi Tui and touched her chin lightly. She looked up, her eyes moist, a smile on her face again.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you too," Pi Tui replied. They kissed, and the Dragons watched, wide grins stretching across their faces.
That was pretty much the end of it, with everything wrapped up in a nice, neat bow. IKTV got its story, causing a brief flurry of excitement when it aired a shocking exposé that pandered to the worst aspects of sensationalism and yellow journalism. But interest faded quickly, leaving only stories told by drunks that would grow larger and more outrageous with each passing year. The Ice Queen and Silver Jet settled down to matrimonial bliss, while the Fire King and the Darkness Queen stewed in their pagodas, hatching dark revenge-fantasies. The Thunder King, of course, returned to his usual rounds of drinking, debauchery, and mindless violence. Two-Face went back to playing every two-bit dive in the Inner Kingdom, riling up the freaks and the losers with anarchic bromides and revolutionary polemics. I collected a nice bonus, which I used to take a well-deserved vacation.
As for the Dragons, they drifted in and out and back again, as they always had. Chaos and destruction continued to follow them, and with each running gun battle and incident of massive property destruction, their status as terrorists and criminals and folk heroes and champions of the downtrodden blossomed, until it reached near-mythic proportions. And all of those stories were true, and none of them were true. I had set out to sift the facts from the lies and rumors and legends, to discover the essential truth behind the Dragons. By the end, I had found it. The Dragons existed to take on the powers that be with nothing but their guts and brains and determination. They were doomed to failure; you can only buck the odds for so long before your number comes up and your check gets cashed for good, and they knew it. But it didn't matter. They fought on, holding fast to the vain and foolish hope that somehow, somewhere, if only for an instant, they could make a difference. It wasn't much to hold on to, but for them, it was enough.
Excerpt from Fear and Loathing in the Netherworld
by Gus Andropolous
unpublished memoirs
The End