Episode 1: Chapter 1

Glass. Green incandescence behind it. The femna’s curves, a thigh, a collar bone, shifted like sand dunes as she floated in the green elixir. Human she looked like, best I could tell. The sight was almost hypnotic, hair drifting like kelp within the huge artifact coffin, not a patch of clothes on her sleek body. It slowed my step as I followed the bodyguard’s broad silhouette across the room’s dim tile.

“A dream chamber...” I thought out loud, fascinated, nerves violin tight. “Whoever thought I'd finally find one... under a massage parlor.”

The guard’s massive back bulged his usher’s jacket, the machine’s green light catching on contorted fabric as he walked ahead of me. His gruff voice broke me out of my revery. “Wait here.”

“Sure.” I slipped a hand into a pocket, thumbed with the other. “At least you have a nice aquarium in the lobby.”

“What?” He glanced back, his neck swiveling, a turret on a tank.

“Nothing.”

He kept walking into a long hallway blackened by heavy shadows. 

The muffled wine of a door opening.

Murmurs.

Out of the dark corridor came a femna seated on a moving chair. She was a real chelana (a pretty lady, as you humies might say).

Her inky dress tickled the aged tile floor and shimmered over her bent knees as she sat on some kind of living chair with two glistening ivory legs writhing like worms, coiling intricately to support her weight, bringing her closer to me. The muscled suit didn't follow but stood by an octagonal wood table and a low hanging ceiling lamp, meaty hands clamped together.

The lady’s biomanced chair, black with twin white legs, came to a rest once she was seated a regal distance from me in that concrete hall. She looked like the kind of femna who wore jeweled purses when she went out on the town looking for mals to suck dry of their life’s blood, a fate for which I imagined she easily found victims—hell, she could probably find volunteers. She was sensually lean. Skin milk white with a faint blue undertone. Ripe breasts. A long gown of exquisite fabric: black with an azure to it so subtle that it seemed more of a glow than a hue. A curtain of hair the same entrancing color. A cigarette on a long holder wedged between swoop-nailed fingers.

I was glad I'd dressed half decent. A patterned longsleeve under a leather jacket, charcoal slacks and WING boots.

“You weren’t kidding, Hector,” she cooed, smoke caressing her long narrow chin. “Our guest is an East coast hobgoblin. Oh but where are my manners? Welcome. My name is Pearl, what is yours?”

“Don't you worry madame,” I answered, a grinning shrug hiding the tension fluttering in my gut. “The cavalier in me rubs off on people. My name’s Teek. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Indeed.” Her walking chair brought her two paces closer.

“My compliments on your...” I managed to peel my eyes off her. “Decorum.”

“It is good taste to appreciate good taste.”

“I'll tip my hat to that.” My finger tipped an imaginary visor.

She took a long drag. Puffed. “Hector tells me you want to use the dream chamber?”

“That's right.”

“Well it is quite the rarity. This is not a replica that you’d find in some rundown casino. This one is the real thing.”

“No need to sell me. I can appreciate quality. I did my research... and you've got it. All that to say: how much?”

Her head tipped back just enough that a thicket of hair slipped off her shoulder into a dark waterfall behind her and the overhead halogen light bounced onto the underside of her nose, lightening its shadow. “6,000.”

“6,000? Gold? For that much coin I could get a new Stallion, drive it fresh off the lot.”

“A Stallion can't take you where the dream chamber can.”

“Heh. Well said... Still. 6 grand. For that price... does the girl stay in there with you?”

“You're charming Mr...”

“Just Teek is fine.”

“Charming, informal... and private. I can appreciate them all... to a degree.”

“That's my style.”

“Is 6,000... out of your budget?”

“Not necessarily... But the chambers in Nexus are just 1,000.”

“Mr. Teek. Your gold wouldn't just be paying for far better quality... it would be paying for discretion. No background check, no regulations... Something tells me that is quite valuable to you.”

“Fair enough.” My grin deepened. “But since you bring up this more... private, alternative way of doing business, it's only natural that you'd be open to alternative forms of payment as well.”

“Oh?”

“Well as I understand it, this is just one of several revenue streams for you. And you know, I'm something of a businessmal myself. Perhaps I could help you. You know, take care of odds and ends. And if you feel my work is... satisfactory then as payment you could let me take a dip.”

“I like a malno with daring. But you might not understand what this work would entail.”

“No childer. No femrazz.” A faint shrug. “Other than that it's all fair game to me. And I'll get the job done or your money back.” Finger gun and a shampoo commercial smile.

“Clearly it is not bravado that is at question... nor, I think, intelligence. But you’re proposing to enter into business together. That would require a great deal of trust.”

“You can ask on the street about me. Ask Vinny Switch. He's connected with the Gold Jaw Orcs.” The name drop was a half-truth.

“I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that gentlemal...” Her gaze ran me up and down with a strange, dreamy intensity that threw me off my feigned poise.

“He's—he's a humie, but smart, an up and comer.”

“Is he?” Her mind was elsewhere as her eyes took on a pearly, electric sheen. “I see you’re armed. That is not surprising. If anything it is reassuring.” I became self-conscious of my hand cannon’s metallic weight holstered against my ribs. “And yet what I don't understand is... why are you wearing an ensorcelled lead vest?”

As I studied her eyes, the pupils surrounded by a corona of glowing blue veins, I realized she hadn’t cast a spell. This x-ray vision or whatever was some inherent power to her race. “Hey a mal in this business has to protect himself. Bullets, eldritch blasts, you never know.”

“That is no ordinary shield vest. It has been heavily modified to hide something... but what could you be hiding?”

“Listen uh I don't—”

FSHHHH. The ends of her dress hissed, swept along the ground like oil flicked from a brush. Beams of this inkiness shot up and wrapped around my ankles, my wrists, holding them taut, felt like hoses strong as steel cable.

“You silly goblin. Who sent you? The Dragon? The Necros? No... you must be a badge.” She stood and started walking toward me. Now I saw that those strange vine-like chair legs were actually part of her body, thin tentacles rooted in her lats. The inkiness that was her chair back instantly receded, dissolved into the inkiness that was her dress and hair. It was all a substance produced by her squid body, but it had what was known in wizardry as an isophysic spectrum valence, which simply meant that it didn’t fit neatly into any of the states of matter (solid, liquid, gas...) because it also had magi-substance properties, and so was somewhere in between Mana and matter, in this case like living shadow.

Her tentacles writhed toward me, suckers on their triangular ends. Taking all these things together, I confirmed her race. 

“So you’re—hrrghh—a —mmgh—Merfolk.” I grunted, straining against the inky bonds on my wrists. “No wonder I smelled sushi.”

“You dog!” Hector shouted from the back of the room and reached into his coat.

“It's all right, Hector.” She raised a hand, then focused on me. This close I could see her skin was rubbery, like a dolphin’s, her eyes a luminous blue black. “I’m technically a Teclavon... now let us see what you truly are.”

One of her tentacles snaked up my leg and tore two buttons from my shirt in a yank.

“I’d oblige—ghkkk—but you haven’t even bought me dinner.” My tongue swept a small bead from the back of my mouth, lodged it between my teeth. Biting it, a plume of mist darted into her face.

“Aghghhhhhrrrr!!” She reeled back. Long sheets of hair flailed as she shook her head like she was trying to wake from a nightmare.

My arm was a blurred snake snatching my cannon from its holster. 

I lunged two steps aside, knee dropping to the tile floor, both hands aiming my handcannon. A sure shot.

“Madame!” Hector called, his own piece flashing, a pistol that in his huge hand looked almost dainty. I’d made myself a small target, positioned his mistress between us. The dream chamber behind me could be a casualty too, but judging by his ridged brow he might be stupid enough to trade fire.

“Don't!” Lady Pearl raised a hand. She’d expanded her dress into a weird cage of protective loops. She blinked her irritated eyes, fingers trying to rub them clean. “What did you do? What is this?!”

Me, winded: “Venom. From the belly of an Aztlani Yellow Jacket. En masse, paralyzes animals, predators, near their hive. In this case it's meant to paralyze... grabby philanderers. For just a second or two. But as you can see a second or two is all I need.” I rose and slid the safety on my cannon back on. “Now can we just talk for flog’s sake?”

A measure of heartbeats.

Her dress shrank back into a flowy gown and chair top, her tentacles curled into the chair’s legs once more. She tossed her stygian hair as she returned to a more dignified state, her face expressing something between chagrined respect and curiosity. “The question remains: how do I know you're not a badge?”

“Me? A cop? Come on. I'm too fashionable to be a guard and too charming to be an agent.”

“Quit the bard talk.”

“Tough crowd... Alright. Does this look standard issue to you?” I held my hand cannon up, rotating it so that a sheen ran on the barrel frame with its emblazoned serpents. “Now. Your dream chamber. It has a 16,000 Mote capacity. 12.6% Astral spectrum. The elixir is a mixture of cyclozenian acid, umbraloquartamine, yellow polaron, florotolomide and a dash of cyclops tears, though you might be using anaphoric serum instead of the cyclozen. However, if you're doing this it technically lowers your max output to 15,264 Motes, but 15,000 even if you're doing it by the book. Now would a damn City Guard know that?”

“An agent would...”

I stepped, bent down to pick up the fallen cigarette holder and handed it to her. She took it and cleansed it with a sharp breath.

“If I was an agent, or any kind of Archon for that matter, I’d have the resources of the entire flogging Moon backing me. I mean, we’re talking—would’ve had an entire file on you, would’ve come prepared to raise absolutely no suspicions, would have back up busting this whole place down as we speak. I sure as hells would’ve hid my eh... chest with something other than rinky dink lead plating.”

“Hm. Fair point.” She eased and I placed a new cig from my own pack in her holder. Gave her a light. She puffed and a haze of pungent smoke surrounded us. “Tree?”

“Yeah. It helps with...” I almost slipped up but smirked to hide it. “Life.”

“I suppose it does.” Her big eyes narrowed in an easy, head reclining smile. “You make valid arguments. But you did draw a weapon on me.”

“Don't take it personal. I’d draw on anyone taking my clothes off, taking them off against my will. Even if it is a misunderstanding. Even if it is the loveliest chelana in the world.”

“I see your cavalier remark was serious.” Her breath hitched in passing amusement. “Still. My trust will have to be earned.”

“A chance to earn it is all I'm asking.”

“Perhaps then... I can give you that chance.” She turned, exposing the pearly dagger of flesh along the low cut back of her dress. The tentacles growing out from behind her armpits walked her back toward Hector. She made a dismissive gesture and he finally put his blunt nosed piece back into his coat.

The silence of a cig drag.

She paced back toward me, hair subtly swaying.

“There is a gentlemal who I loaned quite a hefty sum to. 8,000 gold. But you see he is what you might call a problem customer. He is so late on payments that with interest now his debt has ballooned to 12,000. And even that is being lenient. But perhaps the days of being lenient must be over.”

“So I'll be collecting.”

“Yes, one way or another. He’s a troll by the name of Grivonne. He runs a carnival. Travels all over the Union though it mostly stays west of the Frontier. In fact it is in town for a few days.” She glanced back, cheek curving a ray from the lamp dangling from the ceiling. “Hector.” Her big and tall attendant stepped to the octagonal wood table, scrawled something on a small notepad, then swayed over and handed me a torn sheet.

Hector had drawn some intersecting roads, labeling them with the handwriting of a doctor. I rubbed my chin. “This is a couple hours East of here.”

Pearl: “People like to let loose out in the desert. Perhaps he even stays outside the city to make it harder to collect.” Her big eyes glanced at me through spidery lashes. “He's been ignoring my letters, my calls. Can you believe it?”

“I hate him already.”

A silent chuckle trailed off her face and left me staring at her profile as she eased into a shadowy headrest she conjured out from her chair back, the lower part of her face a curved plane of flawless white, her gaze calculating yet aloof somehow. “And I'm enchanted by you already.”

“It's a bard thing.”

“Well. You bring me back the 12,000 and the chamber is yours...” Her sapphire lips curled. “A night of bliss is yours.”

“The way you say that, I gotta say, it's got some ring to it.”

“Before you count your nest, I must tell you, the carnival is leaving town any day. So I am giving you 24 hours to collect the debt before I call on someone else to do the job.”

“One day?”

“My outfit consists only of those who are capable. Are you not up to the task?”

“No it’s just...” Vague calculations, trepidations, warred inside me... but the rogue in me brushed them aside. “I wish I charged by the hour.”

“Collect this debt, then we can talk rates.” 

“Hm. Alright. But if this... Grivonne doesn't have the gold? Or he plays hardball? What then?”

“If he plays hardball then you beat him at his game. And if he doesn't have the gold then... bring me back something of even greater value. His carnival is notorious in the underworld. There must be many unusual things collected there. Rare, valuable things. Priceless even.”

Hand behind my back, I leaned forward in gentlemal fashion. “Don't worry Lady Pearl, if there's something I have an eye for... it’s anything priceless.” I smirked and turned to leave.

“Teek,” she called and I stopped and the dark machine’s green glow bathed half my face. “It... is bliss that you seek from the chamber, is it not?”

“It’s like you said...” a shrewd nod, “I’m a gentlemal who values discretion.”