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The Broken Gates
Episode One: You barely understand your role in what lies ahead.
Marisol Reyes
Creator
Metro Manila, Luzon Island
Marisol Reyes was going to have a very full day.
She packed up her belongings, checked out of the hotel, and then made her way to the parking lot outside. She found her coworkers barely awake, drinking coffee as though it was the last beverage on Earth. Together, everyone piled into the van and the driver carried the team away.
The van dropped off Marisol and her coworkers at Ninoy Aquino International Airport. Marisol and her companions dropped off their gear at the employee baggage check-in area, and then reported to their duty stations.
Several hours later, Marisol clambered aboard an Airbus A380, prepared for the long day ahead, and put on her best customer service smile. Minutes later, the first passengers boarded the plane.
“Welcome to Asiana Airlines.” Marisol said. “My name is Marisol Reyes and I’ll be one of your flight attendants today. We hope you enjoy this direct nonstop flight to Detroit Metro Airport.”
It took eighteen and a half hours to fly from Manila to Detroit. Over the course of the journey, Marisol and her coworkers attended to the needs of two-hundred-fifty passengers, serving food, water, and providing what comforts they could in a pressurized steel cylinder. Babies cried, cranky women complained, someone came down with airsickness, old men rambled on about days gone by, young people asked for the Wi-Fi password.
Eventually the cabin lights dimmed. A few passengers asked for blankets and pillows, and then blissful sleep took nearly everyone on the plane. A few people stayed awake, using their phones or tablets to watch videos. The crew took it in shifts to get some sleep of their own. During her breaktime, Marisol grabbed her cellphone out of her carry-on bag and checked her email.
You have five unread messages.
Paradox Interactive Forums (1 hour ago)
Asiana Airlines (4 hours ago)
Momma Reyes (10 hours ago)
Archive of Our Own (Yesterday)
Mariposa Reyes (Yesterday)
She smiled and opened the most recent email. She bookmarked the newest update from the Paradox Forums, then settled down for a catnap.
…
Finally, after spending nineteen hours in the air, Asiana Airlines Flight 2086 landed in Detroit, a large city in the United States of America, halfway around the globe from Marisol’s home. Debarking all of the passengers took about half an hour, then the flight attendants gathered their own belongings and clambered onto another van together.
Marisol and her coworkers stayed awake just long enough to present their Philippine passports to the US Border Patrol, then fell asleep during the van ride to their next destination. The van travelled in silence from Detroit to Flint, a smaller town located in the heart of Michigan. Sometime around the middle of the night, the van arrived at a hotel located near Bishop International Airport. Another Asiana plane was visible at the airport itself, where maintenance engineers were working long hours to make it flight ready.
Marisol and the other flight attendants checked into their hotel. Feeling groggy, barely able to keep her eyes open, Marisol stumbled up to her hotel room, got inside, and dropped her bags on the floor.
Not bothering to remove a single piece of her flight attendant’s uniform, Marisol flopped onto her bed, lying faceup and holding her smartphone above her eyes. Flipping her thumb absentmindedly, she scrolled through the Paradox Interactive Forums, looking for a very specific thread.
The Last Days of the Emerald Isle, written by Macavity116.
Marisol loved to read fanfiction, she even dabbled in writing it as well. Tonight, not only would she fall asleep reading her favorite type of story, but she would drift away reading the latest work of her favorite writer. She could not think of a better way to end a day as long and arduous as this one.
As Marisol’s eyes glazed over and her breathing slowed, she noticed that Macavity116 had left an author’s note at the top of the chapter, in which he acknowledged the negative remarks Marisol had left on the previous chapter. She barely read it, skimming just enough words to understand that Macavity116 had taken her criticism into account while writing this new installment.
She started to nod off. Marisol’s phone drooped low and touched her nose. The words on the screen became blurry and hard to read. Marisol adjusted her glasses, trying to read a few more lines before she completely lost consciousness.
The phone screen flickered. Marisol tapped it. The Paradox Interactive Forums vanished completely and the screen was filled with a black space. The words “Was erwartest du?” appeared in the center of the empty void.
“What?” Marisol grumbled, rubbing her eyes and tapping the phone.
The words vanished, and then Macavity’s fanfic re-appeared.
“Uhg... okay.” Marisol said to herself.
But before she could think or say anything else, a blue light filled the hotel room so completely that Marisol could see nothing else. She groaned and tossed her phone aside, but this did nothing to help. Marisol blinked...
And suddenly, she was very cold.
...
Marisol was no longer in her hotel room. She was lying flat on her back in a grassy field. The sun was high overhead, and birds were singing all around. Marisol blinked, scrambling to her feet as quickly as she could. She peered over a nearby outcrop and gasped.
Just half a kilometer away, Marisol could see Ulster Castle.
“Wait... what!?” Marisol gasped.
No... she could not believe her eyes. Ulster Castle was a location in Ireland... and more importantly, it was from a Macavity116 story, the primary setting of Last Days of the Emerald Isle. How was Marisol standing outside of its walls?
But there was no time to examine her surroundings. A cacophony of noise told Marisol that something serious was happening around her. A loud rushing sound caused Marisol to duck! Then, something sailed over her head and alighted itself upon the rocky outcrop she was looking at moments before.
It was a fairy. She knew it well because one of the characters in Macavity’s new story was a fairy... one that had snow-white hair and eyes as red as the setting sun...
In fact, the fairy now standing above Marisol could be described in the same way... flowing white hair and deep red eyes.
“Aisling!?” Marisol breathed.
It was. The Irish mythological creature named Aisling, who played a role in Macavity’s new story, stood here as real as Marisol herself. She started to say something, but Aisling yelled:
“Look out!”
Seeing Aisling’s eyes go wide, Marisol threw herself to the ground. Behind her, there was a bang like a cannon blast. Marisol looked around and spotted something alarming:
Standing at the edge of Dermot’s private forest, there was a dangerous-looking woman, carrying a weapon. Marisol could see that she was vaguely East Asian, dressed in a mid-2000's era military uniform, and carried what was unmistakably a modern-day military rifle. (An American M14 EBR, to be precise) The letters “AFUNE” could be plainly seen on the woman’s bullet-proof vest. Her face had a dignified regal kind of look to it, as though she had royalty somewhere in her family tree.
The Military Uniform Princess held her arms out, as though inviting Aisling to attack. The fairy obliged.
“Get out of my way!” Aisling roared before lunging toward her foe. “I won’t let you near my friend!”
Aisling reached her opponent and started grappling for control of the rifle in her hands. As they fought, the Military Uniform Princess said:
“You barely understand your role in what lies ahead. Here, let me enlighten you.”
She pushed Aisling away, and then held her left hand to her own chest, just over her heart.
Marisol had read so many Macavity stories that she knew what was going to happen next. Instinctively, Marisol tried to warn Aisling.
“She’s going to throw Soulfire at you!” Marisol yelled at the fairy.
Aisling looked around and spotted Marisol for the first time.
“Stay down! I don’t want you to get hurt too!” The fairy called back.
The Military Uniform Princess pointed her left hand at Marisol. A cone of purple and blue flames erupted from her hand. The supernatural flamethrower incinerated the meadow as it careened toward Marisol. Aisling thrust herself into the path of danger. She seized Marisol’s hand, pulling her along as she ran away. Marisol cried out in terror as the Soufire inferno singed the hair on her forearms.
The Military Uniform Princess lowered her hand, and the Soulfire inferno died out. Through the curling smoke, Marisol could see that the enemy’s face was stoic, trying to hide something.
“Hold onto me now!” Aisling cried out. “It’s our only way to escape!”
“What is?” Marisol responded, and then looked ahead.
For just a few moments, Marisol could see a swirling vortex hanging in midair in front of herself and Aisling. It made her think of the Wormholes found in Stellaris. Before Marisol could wrap her head around this new development, Aisling tugged her forward and dove headfirst into the vortex portal.
With a great crash, some screaming, and a loud snap of breaking metal, Marisol and Aisling fell out of the air and crash-landed in Marisol’s hotel room. As soon as both women came to rest, the vortex portal sealed itself and vanished completely.
The Broken Gates
Episode Two: The World of the Gods, Wellspring of Chaos Marisol Reyes
Creator
Genesee County, Michigan
Marisol absentmindedly opened the door and found one of her coworkers in the hotel hallway.
Lexus Mallari was Filipina, just like Marisol, but was much taller than her friend. Rubbing her eyes and trying hard not to nod off while standing upright, Lexus grumbled:
“Mari... could you please keep it down? I’m sure you’re having the time of your life in there, but the rest of us are trying to sleep.”
“Yeah... sorry I woke you up. I’ll keep it down.” Marisol replied. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
Then Marisol closed her door and turned around.
That was when Aisling cornered her. Pushing one arm into Marisol’s throat and the other into her chest, the fairy pressed Marisol into a corner and held her there. The questions flowed out of Aisling’s mouth like water from a faucet:
“What happened!? What’s going on? How did we get here? Who are you? Who was that woman? Where is Duke Dermot?”
Aisling’s words did not match the movements of her mouth. Marisol suddenly found herself thinking about the old-style Japanese movies that were badly dubbed into English. After a moment, she regained her wits and found her voice.
“Slow down!” Marisol said. “I’m just as confused as you are!”
Aisling hesitated, then loosened her grip on Marisol.
“How do you know my name?” Aisling asked. “Where is this place and how did we get here?”
After another pause, Aisling added:
“And who are you?”
“María de la Soledad Teodora Natividad Reyes.” Marisol said, instinctively giving away her full name. “I... I can’t believe this is happening.”
“You and I think the same.” Aisling said, releasing Marisol and stepping back. “Now send me back to Ulster.”
“What? Back into the Emerald Isle setting?” Marisol responded. “I uh... I can’t do that. I’m just a reader... and I can only read your story for about a couple hours each day, besides I’m only the Beta Reader, which means I’m like an editor… so I don’t really have that kind of power, you know? But I promise I am enjoying the story.”
Without really thinking about it, Marisol started gushing.
“I really love you though. The relationship you’re building with Dermot is so cute and I’ve really enjoyed working with Mac to write your dialogue. I almost died of adorableness when you asked Dermot if he was trying to protect you. Look!”
Keeping her hands raised, Marisol backtracked into the main part of her hotel room, kneeling down to her travel bag and retrieving her laptop computer.
“See, you’re a character in this story I’ve been reading.” Marisol explained.
Aisling tilted her head to one side, confused.
“A story?” She repeated.
Marisol shoved her laptop into Aisling’s arms. The fairy winced, unfamiliar with the concept of backlit screens. A moment later, Marisol remembered a crucial detail from Last Days of the Emerald Isle.
“Oh! You’re illiterate!” Marisol gasped. “I’m sorry, I was so excited, I forgot.”
She took the laptop away and said:
“Well, uh… how do I say… someone is writing a book about you, like the Chronicler’s Apprentice was doing for Dermot, except the book is all about you and your life and your adventures… and… and…”
Aisling held up a hand, as though pleading for Marisol to slow down.
“Are you saying that I’m in a different world?” She asked. “This place feels so strange.”
Before Marisol could respond, the hotel room was filled with bright blue light for a second time. However, it came from the window this time. Marisol and Aisling both turned their heads to look.
The Military Uniform Princess was standing in the parking lot, looking directly into Marisol’s second-floor room through the window.
“You figured it out faster than the last one.” The strange woman called out. “My congratulations.”
Aisling ran to the window and yelled her reply through the mesh screen, which caused a commotion among other people in the lot.
“Who are you!? What do you want!? Are you one of the blue-and-gold warriors?”
Several college students standing at the hotel entrance had pulled out their smartphones and were taking pictures of the woman dressed in the AFUNE uniform. Marisol blinked as a sudden realization hit her.
A. F. U. N. E.
She knew those letters, had read them not so long ago when she first became a fan of Macavity116. When she skimmed through one of his older stories…
Armed
Forces of the
United
Nations of
Earth
As soon as the metaphorical puzzle pieces came together in her mind, Marisol understood just who Aisling was arrayed against.
A young woman, vaguely Asian in appearance. Pale skin, short black hair, vivid blue eyes.
Marisol finally recognized who this woman was supposed to be.
“Blue-and-gold warriors?” The princess repeated. “Oh, right! The enemies from your world. I’m not with them, and they do not exist in this world. As I’m certain you were on the cusp of discovering for yourself, the world you stand upon now is not your own.”
The Military Uniform Princess held her arms out wide.
“Nor is it mine.” She finished.
Loud voices sounded in the hallway. Someone was knocking on doors. Marisol’s heartbeat quickened. She began to think fast.
“How did I come here?” Aisling called out.
“I brought you here.” The princess replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “My new friends and I worked long and hard to summon you here, along with a few other people you’ll have the pleasure of meeting soon.”
The Military Uniform Princess raised her voice to a dramatic shout:
“Welcome, Aisling! Welcome to the Wellspring of Chaos, the hellish world of the gods of pleasure!”
Marisol could now feel her fight-or-flight reflexes kicking in, and she was going to choose “flight.” She opened one of her suitcases, found exactly what she was looking for, and muttered a short prayer of thanks to the Virgin Mary for reminding Marisol to pack one.
Never thought a childish hobby was going to save my life someday. Marisol told herself.
“Come with me now.” The princess called up to Aisling. “I’ll explain the Great Lie to you… and how we can set right all that’s gone wrong in this world.”
A sinking feeling developed in Marisol’s gut.
The Great Lie? She repeated to herself. Oh, no… not this again.
“No!” Aisling called back. “I refuse. Go away!”
“Oh, I’m hurt.” The princess replied. “Why won’t you?”
“I can sense your evil from here.” Aisling replied. “I won’t go anywhere with you.”
Marisol managed to put on her helmet and elbow pads. Sensing that she was rapidly running out of time, she abandoned the knee pads and started moving toward Aisling. The Princess’ words were barely audible as she started to move.
“When words fail…”
“AISLING!” Marisol screamed.
The fairy barely had time to react before Marisol grabbed her by the hand and slammed a skateboard onto the floor.
“Follow me!” Marisol yelled.
Marisol burst out of her room. Several hotel staff screamed in fright as a young woman careened down the corridor riding atop a skateboard. Aisling ran behind, looking bewildered and on the verge of panic.
“Outta the way! There’s trouble!” Marisol yelled as she pushed past an alarmed looking manager.
Marisol rounded a corner and performed a hasty Firecracker, balancing on the rear wheels as her skateboard clattered down a flight of stairs. In moments, she was on the ground floor.
“Are we escaping!?” Aisling called out, holding one hand in front of her eyes. She overshot the end of the stairway and crashed headlong into the opposing wall. The lobby lights were dazzling her.
Truthfully, Marisol was panicking. Knowing the enemy only made her realize just how hopeless the situation was.
Akira Jaqueline Robinson was the central villain of the old Stormbreaker Universe, a series of ten stories Macavity116 wrote long before Marisol became his Beta Reader. Akira was a powerful telepath, with a long list of Psionic powers at her disposal. Marisol was deathly afraid that Akira might round a corner at any moment and obliterate her with but the snap of her fingers.
Marisol kept one foot on the board and pushed with the other, racing across the lobby to one of the emergency exits, away from the parking lot. She looked behind just in time to see a flash of red and white color.
Aisling had transformed into a small bird and was following at best speed. Marisol burst out of the side door and into the dark surroundings. She did not know the city of Flint very well, but she did know that help was very far away.
In front of the hotel was a parking lot containing two restaurants. Miller Road, a major thoroughfare, lay beyond. Behind the hotel was a quarter-mile of forest that concealed Swartz Creek. Looking around, Marisol spotted a sign.
“We’ll go to the Hooters, hide behind their security guys while someone calls the police.” Marisol said.
The faintest trace of a plan was coming together. Marisol was starting to wrap her mind around the idea that two characters from Macavity’s stories were suddenly present in the real world… Marisol knew that she needed to find someplace where she could safely pull out her cell phone and contact him.
A swallow with red eyes landed on her shoulder and gripped tightly with its little talons. Marisol started to push her skateboard, getting far better speed on concrete than she did on hotel carpets.
Marisol and Aisling never made it to the Hooters building. Akira Robinson was standing on the side of the road, just waiting for the pair to pass by.
“Please stop causing trouble for me, Aisling.” Akira said. “Just come with me now, it’ll be easier for everyone.”
Marisol wanted to start pushing her skateboard forward again, but she felt as though an invisible hand was clamped around her body, holding her in place.
“What kind of character are you?” Akira was speaking to the bird on Marisol’s shoulder. “Are you the type of character who won’t see reason unless they’re beaten in a fight? I can oblige.”
Akira put on a fake voice.
“If I win, then let me have my way with you.” Akira resumed her normal tone, harsh and cold. “Is that what you want me to say? I don’t like doing things that way, but if you insist… I have so many ways of forcing you to come along and meet your new friends. But we would prefer it if you came along willingly.”
An invisible force grabbed Marisol and threw her off her skateboard. She hit the pavement helmet-first, saving her from a far worse injury, although the fall still hurt badly. Aisling resumed her human form, standing between Marisol and Akira.
A powerful gust of wind shook the area as though a tornado had touched down closeby. Akira raised both hands to defend herself.
“Where are we!? Who are you!?” Aisling demanded, blasting Akira with gale-force winds that tore up street signs, turned over semi trucks, and pulled the roof of a nearby house.
“I told you!” Akira shouted. “The world of the gods, Wellspring of Chaos!”
“You’re speaking nonsense!”
“Nonsense!?” Akira’s laugh was somehow audible over the cacophony. “You think this is a joke when we are able to understand each other, even though I’m speaking Japanese and you Irish!? Even though the sights, the smells, and the sounds are all so foreign, yet familiar? This is the hideous world of the man responsible for all our suffering, for everything wrong in our homes!”
Aisling’s windstorm died away, and Marisol was able to stand up. The fairy was panting. She seemed exhausted. Marisol sat up. She could hear emergency sirens and screams from nearby witnesses.
“Come with me, Aisling!” Akira tried one last time. “You can save Dermot, save all of Ireland! All you have to do is help us bring punishment and justice the god responsible for the hell we’ve lived through!”
Without warning, without a hint or a sign any preamble of any kind, a bolt of lightning descended from the sky and struck Akira! Marisol fell to the ground, clutching her ringing ears. The image of Akira’s silhouette was burned into her retinas by the sudden flash of light. Aisling had also fallen over, shocked by the sudden blast.
Akira Robinson staggered, then shouted:
“Back again, Sebakhira?”
Dozens of eyewitnesses, already frightened by the sudden lightning strike, began to scream as a strange creature loped into view. Marisol rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not seeing things.
A large thing was walking toward Akira on two legs. But it did not have the feet, hands, or head of a human. Instead, this creature was a highly anthropomorphized cross between a person and a lion. The half-lion, half-human woman was dressed in the beige robes of a religious monk, and even wore a hood over her head. She peered at Akira through dark purple eyes. She did not speak. Marisol was so shocked by everything that was happening that she made no effort to identify the bizarre lion-like creature walking as though it were human.
Marisol could not find any words to describe what happened next. A constellation of lights erupted between the lioness and Akira, flashing and sparking as though a fireworks show was playing out in small scale. After a few moments, Akira clenched her fists and yelled:
“ENOUGH!”
The conflagration ceased.
The lioness/human hybrid took a step back, her telepathic duel with Akira ended. The first officers of the Flint City Police were arriving on the scene, guns drawn.
“While this sort of action is exactly what my new friends are seeking, it is too early. We can’t get ahead of ourselves.” Akira said. “I’ll leave you to do what you will… we’ll come back when we’re ready to extend our offer again.”
Akira turned around, as if she were going to step across the road. Instead, a swirling blue vortex portal opened up in midair, just in front of her. Again, Marisol thought the portal strongly resembled a Stellaris Wormhole. Akira stepped into the vortex portal and vanished from view. A moment later, the portal itself closed and shrank into nothingness. It, and the person it carried away… were both gone.
…
Police and bystanders alike were converging on the scene, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The lion-like woman turned to leave, ignoring everyone around her, including the curious youngsters trying to take her picture.
“Wait!” Aisling called out. “Are you like me? Are you from another world?”
The humanoid lioness looked at the fairy, then nodded, her expression mournful.
“I am Sebakhira. Who are you?”
“Aisling.” The fairy murmured, suddenly shy. “I’m very far from home and I don’t know what’s happening.”
A few steps away, Marisol tried to hide her confusion. She could not remember who Sebakhira was aside from the fact that she was definitely a Macavity character.
Sebakhira held out one of her paws.
“Come. We shall learn together.” She replied.
Aisling took a few steps toward Sebakhira, then hesitated, looking back at Marisol, uncertain.
Marisol had her smartphone out; she was hastily taking pictures of both Sebakhira and Aisling.
“Go on!” Marisol whispered. “I’ve gotta send a DM.”
Marisol had recovered from the shock of the events and was just now starting to process the idea of two characters, created by the same author, talking to one another in front of her like this. On top of that, Marisol had survived an attack by Akira Robinson, the Paradox herself! She could not wait to tell Macavity116 about this.
Marisol felt as though she might die of excitement.
…
Marisol did not get back to her hotel room for another two hours. She had to give statements to the police. (which mostly consisted of “I don’t know what happened” and “I was scared for my life, so I ran away”) Then she had to get checked over by a member of Asiana Airlines staff to make sure she was safe to fly back to the Philippines. Finally, she took a few minutes to write a lengthy message to Macavity116 on her phone, explaining everything that happened and attaching a few pictures she had taken as well.
As soon as she sent her message, Marisol remembered that Macavity had once said he lived in Mid-Michigan. Perhaps he had already seen Aisling and Akira on the news. The pair of them had caused no small amount of chaos and destruction, after all.
Opening the door to her room, Marisol was lost in thought. She was already planning to write an email to Macavity116, to tell him about everything that happened tonight in even greater detail.
She would not get the chance.
Sebakhira and Aisling were in her room, waiting for her.
The Broken Gates
Episode Three: So this is how I understand it. Aisling
Creation
Genesee County, Michigan
“So this is how I understand it. In this world, there are stories that describe the two of us. Stories about our experiences, with parts that don’t even make it into the chronicles I’ve heard about back home.”
Aisling finished speaking and nibbled on a saltine cracker, wincing as the myriad flavors hit her tongue. Sebakhira nodded, then turned to Marisol, who was sitting cross-legged on the second bed, looking very emotional.
“This is the truth, as you and I have discovered.” Sebakhira said. Then she licked her forepaws thoughtfully.
“I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Sebakhira. Teacher of the Psionic traditions under the employ of Waiparau, King of Paku Nui... or rather, I was under the King’s employ until recently.”
Marisol furrowed her brow.
“Okay, I remember the name Paku Nui. You’re also a character in a Macavity story. I think you might be from either Faith in Chaos or The Stormbreakers… you’re definitely from one of the older stories. I honestly don’t remember.”
Sebakhira began to pace the length of the hotel room, making a deep growling sound as she lost herself in thought.
“That woman who attacked us… I know her.” Sebakhira said.
“She’s the Paradox!” Marisol replied, pressing her thumbs into her temples as she tried to jog her own memory. “You fought her in… oh, what book was it? I know it was the big battle with the Planet-Killers.”
“A battle? Planet-Killers?” Sebakhira asked, tilting her head.
Aisling looked completely lost. Marisol snapped her fingers.
“The Levakian Uprising!” She said. “You and Tantomile worked together in the Levakian Uprising and that’s where you fought the Paradox!”
Silence. Sebakhira gave no sign of recognition. Instead, the white lioness replied through bared fangs:
“My people, the Levakian race, are loyal subjects of the Partogan Kingdom. There is no uprising, and I should kill you where you stand for implying our Princess would partake in such an action.”
Aisling stood up and tapped Marisol on the shoulder.
“What does she mean by that?” Aisling asked.
It was Marisol’s turn to tilt her head. After staring at Sebakhira for a moment, she came to a conclusion:
“You’re from an early chapter.” Marisol said. “You’re from an early part of the story… what’s the last thing you remember before you got pulled into this world?”
Sebakhira wrapped her tail around her hind legs. She was agitated.
“I was aboard the starship Shieldbreaker, having just explained the history of the Paradox to Princess Tantomile. We had received news about the death of the Partogan Queen and were discussing the upcoming Royal Election… and then our surroundings became strange. The Paradox appeared. She was not alone. There were others with her.”
Sebakhira turned toward Aisling.
“I heard about you from her. I knew I needed to find you at once.”
“Does that mean you are going to help us?”
Sebakhira bared her teeth in a terrifying expression that Aisling guessed to be a smile. She could not sense hostility, at least.
…
Marisol’s phone buzzed.
“It’s Macavity!” She gasped. “He’s the writer who created you. I don’t really have time to explain, but he and I… we uh… we kinda knew this was possible. For fictional characters like you to appear in the real world… anyway. There was an incident a couple months ago.”
Aisling stood up and looked around the room.
“So… my world’s not real?” Aisling asked. “I’m not real?”
Aisling could see a deeply uncomfortable expression on Marisol’s face, and it did nothing to reassure her.
“You’re… um… you’re more real now than you were yesterday.” Marisol replied noncommittally, and then buried her nose in her phone.
Aisling opened up the refrigerator and found a half-eaten package of croquettes. Marisol had saved them after her latest transpacific flight. Aisling took a hesitant bite.
A cascading explosion of flavor hit Aisling’s mouth, causing her to shudder. Gasping loudly, she began to greedily scarf down the croquettes. The food in this world was full of multilayered flavors and very delicious. It made the food of her own world seem bland and forgettable by comparison.
“Okay, I've got something!” Marisol announced. “Macavity already knows what’s going on. You two made the news. He says he can help you, but you have to come to him, though. He can’t go to you.”
“Won’t you show us the way? We’re foreign to this world.” Sebakhira asked. “We do not know how to find this writer of yours.”
Marisol swore.
“I mean, I live on the other side of the world, and if I miss the return flight, I might get stranded here…”
She fiddled her skateboard, which was leaning against the bed. Then Marisol started typing a reply on her phone.
“Hold on…” She mumbled. “Wait a minute.”
Aisling did not wait a minute. She began to feast on the magnificent delectable treats scattered around the hotel room.
… Marisol Reyes
Creator
Shiawassee County, Michigan
Marisol was stunned by just how easy it was to get permission to leave the hotel. The Senior Cabin Crew rep grumbled softly over the phone:
“You know when reporting time is. Be responsible and show up for work clean and sober, okay?”
After that, Marisol opened up her Uber App and called for a rideshare. When the car arrived, she told Sebakhira to put her hood back up.
“Why must I cover my face?” Sebakhira asked.
“Because there are no talking lions in this world!” Marisol hissed just before shoving Sebakhira into the backseat and telling the driver in a slurred voice: “We’re all kinda drunk, can you just get us to this address in Shiatown while we take a teensy-tiny little catnap?”
...
The drive from Flint to Shiatown took about twenty minutes. The city was quickly left behind and darkness took the car. Marisol knew that Macavity lived in a very rural part of Michigan, very far away from cities and surrounded by farmland. The darkness of night was more total here than in the bustling hubbub of Manila. It seemed to press against the car windows like water against a submarine. The only light came from Marisol’s phone, which was being held by Sebakhira. The lioness was trying to bring herself up to speed on everything there was to know about the writer named Macavity.
Shiatown is a very small settlement of only a few dozen people, all of whom were asleep when Marisol’s carpool arrived. The driver expressed some confusion when Marisol, Aisling, Sebakhira told him he was at the correct location.
“Ladies, this is a park.” He said, gesturing to the nearby swing set and the distant bubbling sounds of the Shiawassee River.
“We know.” Marisol replied. “Our friend is going to meet us here."
Marisol, Aisling, and Sebakhira were left alone in the park with only the noise of the river to keep them company in the darkness. Aisling cupped her hands together and whispered into her palm. A moment later, the clouds parted, allowing a half-moon to illuminate the scene.
“Best not draw attention to ourselves.” Sebakhira whispered. “I sense we are being followed.”
“Well, Macavity is supposed to be here.” Marisol reminded her. “He might be close already.”
“In that case, I shall rephrase. We are being followed by someone other than your friend.” Sebakhira replied.
Aisling had wandered away. She was distracted by the sounds of nature. The shallow river and the land surrounding it was full of animal night-life. Marisol shuddered and drew her coat tighter around herself.
“I’ve read those chapters you mentioned.” Sebakhira said. “Song of the Solitaire. It seems to me that this man you call the writer… my creator… is a dishonorable person. To think our universe was created by such a careless and stupid person fills me with dread.”
“You’re not the first person to say that.” Marisol mumbled. “Maybe you’ll get to meet Cali while you’re here. She knows this ‘beyond the fourth wall’ crap better than any of us. I just got lucky enough to get dragged into the Malum Incident.”
“What’s the Malum Incident?” Aisling asked.
“That.” A male voice spoke from the darkness. “Requires a lot of explanation, and we don’t have the time.”
A dark-skinned man, dressed in a blue coat and rectangular glasses, stepped out of the darkness. He was armed with a long object that Marisol initially mistook for a rifle. Sebakhira and Aisling both took a step back. Marisol did not.
“Holy shit, Mac! Is that you?” Marisol said to the figure.
He lowered his weapon.
“Cho?” He said. “You’re uh… a lot shorter than I expected.”
Marisol folded her arms.
“I’m average for people in my country.” She snapped. “And unless you want me to start calling you a fat American, can you help these two already? They jumped out of your books and smashed up the town next door. There’s cops asking questions and I think there’s more of your characters running around out there… so this is all kinda your fault anyway.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Macavity116 replied, keeping his weapon at a low ready position. “Were you followed? Is anyone else with you?”
Marisol looked around and realized that both Aisling and Sebakhira were suddenly on alert.
“Am I the only one here who doesn’t have superpowers?” Marisol started to ask before Aisling interrupted her:
“Someone’s here.”
Very suddenly, Aisling vanished from view. She had shapeshifted into a wolf and slipped into the nearby brush. Sebakhira lowered her hood and peered around, growling. Marisol could feel waves of intense heat rippling away from the lioness. Macavity signaled Marisol.
“Over here! Stand by me!” He said.
Marisol sprinted across the grass and quickly stood beside Macavity. This was the first time she had seen him in person, and under the low light, it was difficult to make out any details beyond dark skin and very short hair. She did, however, get a closer look at the weapon Macavity was holding. It was not, as she first thought, a rifle.
Macavity was carrying a flintlock musket.
“Show yourself!” Sebakhira snarled into the darkness.
There was a rustling sound, about one hundred yards away on the distant side of the park. A figure stepped through the moonlight and became visible. It was a young woman.
In that moment, Marisol realized that spotting anymore of Macavity’s characters in the real world was going to be easy. Most of them were beautiful women that would stand out in a crowd.
This woman in particular, stepping out of the darkness and approaching the group, was one Marisol found very familiar.
“Tenna.” She breathed.
“You know her?” Sebakhira asked.
“Yeah…” Marisol replied. “It’s a long story… but I kinda helped create her. She’s as much my character as she is Macavity’s.”
“Hey, Cho, if we’re about to get killed by one of our characters, you might as well use my real name.” Macavity said. “Call me Blake.”
“Marisol.” Marisol replied.
Blake cocked the hammer and raised his musket.
“That’s close enough, Tenna!” He yelled. “Stop there!”
Tenna Annora was a character from the story Song of the Solitaire. Marisol was heavily involved in Tenna’s creation to such an extent that even now, under the half-moonlight, she could see her own handiwork. Tenna was a sixteen year-old girl with out-of-control red hair and amber eyes. She had a few youthful freckles scattered about her face. Tenna wore a flowing blue dress that seemed to be made for a movie action hero; it included lightweight padded armor over the chest and shoulders, knee-length boots, and a utility belt.
Marisol gulped. The last time she had seen Tenna, at least two characters had rebelled against the author, Macavity. But that time, Tenna was safely confined to the pages of her own book.
This time around… Marisol and Blake were not so lucky.
Tenna began to speak. Just like Akira, Aisling, and Sebakhira, Tenna’s mouth movements did not match the words she spoke. It seemed as though her native language was being instantly translated into English in real-time by an invisible force. Marisol found it very off-putting.
“I just got here... Akira’s holding down the fort while we set up a proper gate for my master to use.” Tenna said.
Tenna’s face flushed at the word “master” and Marisol grimaced. It was an aspect of Tenna’s character that Marisol disliked and intended to erase in the sequel. Now, it looked like Marisol might not live to see that sequel.
“Has Akira filled you in yet?” Tenna spoke to Sebakhira. “She said we can force the author to make whatever changes we want to our worlds! We can fix everything that’s wrong before we get rid of him once and for all.”
“Blake, they’re gonna kill you.” Marisol gasped.
“Yeah. Kinda figured.” Blake whispered. “Start backing up. My car’s by the road. We’re gonna make a run for it.”
“Don’t you live in a terrible world where everyone is fighting all the time?” Tenna asked, taking a step forward. She looked as though she was pleading. “You can’t possibly want to defend him when it’s his fault we all live in eternal nightmares!”
Tenna pointed at Blake.
“You might wanna run.” He whispered to Marisol, “Before they decide they’re gonna kill you too.”
“Too late for that.” Marisol replied. “Aisling already picked a fight with Akira, and I’m worried for her. Also I’m worried for you, too. You really brought that thing to a superhero fight!?”
She tapped the musket.
“Short notice.” Blake grumbled. “You try planning a war against homemade gods.”
Meanwhile, the confrontation between Sebakhira and Tenna was rapidly spiraling out of control.
“I could never forgive that monster for what he’s done!” Tenna raised her voice, pointing one finger at Blake. A cluster of blue sparks shot out of her fingertip.
“I might agree with you… but I will decide for myself what kind of person the author is. Not you.” Sebakhira replied. “And certainly not the Paradox or your so-called master.”
Electricity popped and snapped around both Sebakhira and Tenna. Marisol grabbed Blake’s arm.
“Psionics.” She hissed. “Blake! They’re gonna wreck this little town.”
Author's note: While this chapter contains a reference to one of my previous stories: A Coldwar Affair, reading said story is not necessary to understand what's going on here.
The Broken Gates
Episode Four: Who are you calling “Parent” and “Child!?” Marisol
Creator
Shiawassee County, Michigan
The first explosion shook the park like an earthquake. Marisol fell off her feet and tumbled to the ground in front of Blake. Blue light filled Marisol’s vision as Soulfire erupted into the air, igniting several nearby trees. Car alarms rent the air as the community of Shiatown quickly woke up in a panic.
Looking up, Marisol spotted Sebakhira. The anthropomorphic lioness had crossed her forelegs in front of her. A shimmering construct of purple light, shaped like a rectangle, had appeared in front of Sebakhira. Tenna’s Psionic attacks deflected off the Psionic barrier, flying off to strike trees and cars and houses.
“Stop!” Blake yelled. “Stop fighting now!”
He stepped forward, raising his musket.
“What the hell are you doing!?” Marisol yelled. “You’re gonna get killed!”
Tenna spotted Blake and turned, trying to direct her next attack onto him. A bolt of lightning jumped out of Tenna’s outstretched palm, aiming at Blake. Before it could reach him, the bolt hit an invisible field and scattered. Sebakhira was circling around in front of Blake, blocking all of Tenna’s strikes.
“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Blake yelled, aiming down the sights. The musket was aimed at Tenna’s face.
A large European wolf lunged out of the darkness and jumped Tenna, sinking its teeth into her right arm. Tenna screamed. So did Marisol.
“Aisling!” Marisol gasped.
“Move now!” Blake had reached Sebakhira.
He shoved the lioness aside and took aim.
“Aisling! Let go of her!” Marisol yelled. “He’s gonna shoot!”
Aisling picked up on Marisol’s voice and released Tenna, lumbering away with blood staining her jaws. A moment later, Marisol heard a loud clicking noise followed by a very loud crack of thunder.
Marisol knew what a musket was, and she expected the weapon in Blake’s hands to behave a certain way.
It did not.
Blake’s weapon emitted a flash of light that was, for a brief moment, brighter than the sun. Marisol was blinded for a few seconds, a shimmering white spot taking up the center of her field of vision. The blast also deafened Marisol and left her ears ringing. She scrambled to get back onto her feet, then noticed the other three fighters.
Aisling, Sebakhira, and Tenna were all on the ground, their eyes wide, clutching their ears and moaning in agony.
Tenna was the first one back on her feet. She tore the hem of her dress and wrapped the fabric around the bloody bite marks on her arm, fumbling as she went. She was clearly disoriented. Marisol stumbled on her feet, slowly starting to realize what had just happened.
“Fucking homemade flashbang.” Marisol gasped.
Marisol staggered toward Tenna, determined to put the wayward character back on the ground before she could do anything dangerous… but Blake reached her first.
A deadly kind of stillness fell over the park as Blake reached into his coat pocket and produced a pistol. Dropping the musket on the ground, Blake grabbed Tenna by the hair with one hand and pressed the barrel of the pistol into her chest with the other.
Marisol’s entire body filled with fear. She barely understood what was going on, what sort of nightmarish situation she had just stumbled into, but for some reason, the thought that she might witness a murder was troubling her more than the thought of being murdered.
“Wait! Stop!” She screamed reflexively.
Blake hesitated, finger on the trigger, and a moment later he lost his opportunity. A black shadow suddenly appeared in the folds of Tenna’s dress. It drew itself up and converged on the point where the barrel of Blake’s pistol was touching Tenna’s breast.
A moment later, the handgun crumbled to dust in his hands, falling down the front of Tenna’s dress and causing her to jump in fright. An invisible pulse of Telekinesis threw Blake away from Tenna, he tripped over Sebakhira and fell onto his back.
The people of Shiatown were now awake. House lights were on. Voices sounded from the darkness, but one drew closer.
“This is what you get for charging in without a plan, Annora!”
A man appeared from the darkness, coming from the south, which suggested he had crossed the Shiawassee River to get here. His feet squelched in the grass, leaving a muddy trail behind.
Marisol blinked furiously to get the white spot in her vision to go away, trying to get a better look at the newcomer. She spotted the bright red light of a Laser Pistol in his hand, which instantly gave him away as a character from the Stormbreaker Universe. (one of Blake’s earliest stories)
The newcomer was a lanky man with messy snow-white hair, brown skin, purple eyes, and tattoos on his neck and arms that depicted vaguely Polynesian symbols. This man was one of the Partogans, a fictional civilization (based heavily on the real-life Maori people) that prominently featured in the Stormbreaker Universe.
“Where’ve you been!?” Tenna shouted at the man. “Come on, Blake’s right here!”
“A Partogan?” Sebakhira said, getting shakily back to her own feet. “Here?”
The Partogan man narrowed his eyes at Sebakhira.
“Step aside, Levakian.” He spoke in a stern tone, referring to Sebakhira by the name of her species. “I don’t have a reason to fight you. Just him.”
Blake was back on his feet, fists clenched. Finally, Marisol’s brain got back into working order. She recognized the Partogan man, although it had taken a while.
This was Kiri Ranginui, main protagonist of A Coldwar Affair… the only book in the Stormbreaker Universe to be declared “non-canon” by the author. As far as the long-running sci-fi series was concerned, Kiri Ranginui did not exist.
Aisling was back on her feet as well. She bared her teeth and growled at Kiri. Marisol put herself between Blake and Kiri. She could hear police sirens. Kiri looked at Tenna and then dismissed her words.
“Nah. The authorities are coming and all of my nanobots are busy eating that gun. If we stick around, we won’t be able to get away. Let’s get out of here now.”
Kiri wrapped his arm around Tenna’s waist and pulled her away from the scene. A trail of black slime followed him, moving across the ground like a semi-corporeal snake.
“We need to get out of here.” Blake said, grabbing his musket off the ground. “This way, everyone. Into my car. You too, Chosenpai. In for a penny, in for a pound at this point.”
…
Blake’s car, a silver four-door sedan, made a dangerous creaking sound as Sebakhira clambered into the backseat. Marisol had never truly appreciated just how large and heavy a lion could be until she was seated in front of one. Aisling shapeshifted into a rabbit and curled up on the dashboard to make room for Sebakhira while Marisol took the front passenger seat.
“Where are we going!?” Marisol asked.
“We’re picking up a few things from my house, and then we’re going to meet someone who can help.” Blake said. “Keep your heads low, we’re going around the police.”
In the distance, Marisol could see several flashing red lights. Blake seemed to know Shiatown well. He turned onto a side-street and shut off the car’s headlights. All around, locals were emerging from their homes, smartphones aimed toward Shiatown Park, where two large pine trees were still on fire.
“Gonna get bumpy.” Blake said. “We’re going to cut across the farm field and head north. We’ve got about a twenty minute drive ahead of us… so I think some introductions are in order.”
Aisling made a squeaking noise and looked up at Blake.
“So… uh… yeah.” Blake started. “My name is Blake Robinson. I’m a writer… and author. And I created you. The girl in the passenger seat is Chosenpai. She helps me… and, uh… this is the first time we’ve actually met face-to-face.”
Sebakhira’s voice sounded from the back seat.
“Marisol is upset you don’t call her by her real name. Also, she is offended that you keep looking at her the way you would a child.”
“Fucking telepaths!” Blake shouted from the driver’s seat. “This mind-reading thing is going to get old real quick.”
Then he looked over at Marisol, who was wearing her emotions on her face.
“Right… Mary? Was it?” He asked.
“Marisol.” Marisol replied in a pouting tone. “Marisol Reyes. And I swear on Mary and Joseph, if you say I look like a child…”
“Marisol, you look like you’re four-foot-eight.” Blake retorted.
“I am four-foot-ten!” Marisol protested. “But that’s not important. What are we going to do about these two?”
She gestured to Aisling and Sebakhira. The lioness used her Telepathy again.
“Neither of you as surprised as one should be in a scenario like this.” Sebakhira said. “Is this the first time you’ve had to deal with a fictional character gone rogue?”
“Third.” Blake and Marisol said together.
“But this is the worst it’s ever gotten.” Marisol added. “We’ve never had to deal with more than one at a time.”
“And your type has never raised enough hell to get the State police involved.” Blake chimed in. “Speaking of involvement: I called Cali. She’s on her way here from Stockholm. She’s the one who prototyped that modified musket back there, by the way. Cali’s helped me figure out some anti-Psionic weapons in case something like this ever happened, and that was one of them. As soon as we pick up the essentials from my house, we’re heading out to meet her. We just need to keep a low profile and try to avoid fighting any other characters who jump into the real world.
Aisling hopped down from the dashboard and into Marisol’s lap. The little bunny rabbit gave Marisol an apologetic look, then turned around to face away from her. A moment later, Marisol gasped in fright as Aisling suddenly transformed into her human shape. Very suddenly, a teenage girl was sitting on Marisol’s lap, her shoulders pressing firmly into Marisol’s face. Marisol was grateful that Aisling was a lightweight, and that she had remembered to turn around before changing shape.
“NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!” Marisol shouted into Aisling’s back. “You’re pinning my hands and feet. Can you move, please!?”
Aisling ignored Marisol and spoke to Blake.
“So you are a like a bard or chronicler? And you wrote stories about all of us? You should tell us about the others then, since you would know everything about them.”
“Well,” Blake sighed. “Everyone seems to have changed a little since they jumped out of the pages. Tenna was never supposed to be a warrior like that. She was a love interest for another hero. You know, Trig would save the day, defeat the villain, and then he’d get to have Tenna as a reward.”
“That has got to be the most horribly sexist thing I’ve heard all day.” Marisol mumbled from underneath Aisling. “Maybe you should go back to writing women, get some perspective.”
“What about the man?” Aisling inquired. Sebakhira leaned forward.
“That man is from my world.” Sebakhira said. “But I did not recognize him.”
“I wrote almost a dozen stories all set in the same world.” Blake replied. “Sebakhira, you lived in the middle of a much large story that goes for hundreds of years into the past and future. That man is called Kiri, and he’s from what you would call the future. He was born almost two hundred years after you.”
“I see.” Sebakhira replied. “Which means he would know about this Uprising you mentioned. Can you tell me about it?”
“Wait a minute.” Blake said. “You should know all about the Levakian Uprising. You were a key player at the Battle of Aoraki.”
Marisol wrapped her arms around Aisling’s stomach and pushed her aside, allowing her to address Blake. Aisling did not seem to mind. Her face was scrunched up against the passenger window and she found it fascinating.
“Hold on, Blake! This is a specific version of Sebakhira from an earlier part of Faith in Chaos. She doesn’t know about the Levakian Uprising. It probably hasn’t even started yet for her.”
Blake frowned, then turned the car onto a paved road, transitioning from a farmfield to the parking lot of the Islamic Center on M-21. He check left and right before pulling onto the state highway.
“There’s an easy way to find out what part of the story she’s from.” Blake said. “Tell me, Sebakhira… Who is the current Queen of Partoga and who is the current Empress of Levakia?”
Sebakhira replied quickly.
“The Partogan Queen just died… there was a news report about her this morning. Empress Jemima is a prisoner in her own palace.”
“Where are Jemima’s daughters?” Blake asked.
“Princess Coricopat and Princess Tantomile are both on the run.” Sebakhira answered. “Although Tantomile killed my employer, the King of Paku Nui, just recently.”
“Right, she’s from the end of Act Two, just before the start of the Royal Election Arc.” Blake said. “I know roughly where Tenna’s from. You were there when it all went down, Marisol.”
“Tenna was the most recent of your characters to rebel?” Sebakhira asked. “Am I correct?”
“If you can answer your own questions by reading minds, why ask at all?” Marisol asked.
“She’s forced to. It’s the way I wrote Sebakhira and all other Telepaths.” Blake said. “For the convenience of the reader.”
“Curious. I do not feel forced.” Sebakhira mused.
“Well, that’s because…” Blake started to say, but he stopped when Marisol giggled. “What?”
“You sound like a parent talking to their child.” Marisol giggled. “This whole situation is just kinda… I dunno. Silly.”
“Hey! Who are you calling ‘Parent’ and ‘Child!?’” Blake said. “In terms of physical and mental development, Sebakira is almost twice my age!”
Sebakhira let out a deep growling sound that caused Blake to jump.
“Fuck! I forgot the pre-2035 Levakians can’t purr.” He grumbled.
Aisling turned around, pivoting on top of Marisol’s lap until she was facing Sebakhira. (and pressing her knee into Marisol’s lower abdomen)
“Is that what you are?” Aisling asked. “Levakian is what your people are called?”
Sebakhira nodded.
“Yes, little darling. I am a member of the Levakian race. Who are you and what are your people called?”
“My name is Aisling, and I’m a daughter of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”
“She’s a fairy.” Marisol grunted. “A fairy who’s pushing really hard against something she shouldn’t! Get off!”
Ailing apologized and shapeshifted into a small cat. She curled up in Marisol’s lap and began to purr loudly by way of apology. Sebakhira chucked and said to Marisol:
“Who are you? What are your people called?”
“Marisol. I’m from the Philippines. Nice to meet you.”
Real life seems determined to dump everything and anything onto me these past couple of weeks. My job is keeping me far busier than normal right now, but things should go back to the "normal level of chaos" by this weekend. Still planning to create audiobook companions for The Broken Gates, but the schedule has definitely slipped.
In the meantime, bonus points go to anyone who can correctly guess the total number of PDX forum users who were referenced in this chapter.
The Broken Gates
Episode Five: His name is Asimov, and I think he likes you. Marisol
Creator
Shiawassee County, Michigan
Blake drove for another ten minutes until he reached the outer limits of what he called “the city where I live.”
Marisol looked out the window and raised her eyebrow.
“Dude… I live in Manila. This is not a city. This is barely a town.” She scoffed.
Blake rolled his eyes and pulled into a residential neighborhood that was located between an Elementary School and the combined Middle School/High School. Aisling (having taken the shape of a small cat) was dazzled by the street lights and kept blinking her eyes repeatedly.
When Blake turned a corner, he reached up and pressed a button near the roof of the car. A garage door, attached to a house, began to open on its own. Aisling was startled and retreated into the folds of Marisol’s coat.
“This is my place.” Blake said. “I’m gonna try and get in touch with Cali. The rest of you eat some food and try to rest.”
…
At least for a few moments, Marisol was just like Aisling and Sebakhira, looking around every part of Blake’s house with equal parts wonder and awe.
“Just one American lives in a house this big?” Marisol gasped.
“No, my dad’s here too, somewhere.” Blake replied.
“Don’t you live in a house like this, Marisol?” Sebakhira asked.
“No, I live in a tiny apartment with my mom and my siblings.” Marisol replied. “You could fit my whole place into Blake’s kitchen.”
“And you’re just going to allow us to eat the food?” Aisling asked, peering into the pantry.
“Eat the groceries! Robinson family rule.” Blake said. “Now let me find… Dad! Hey Dad! Where are you?”
Blake disappeared down a hallway. Marisol looked around again and suddenly regretted turning down Blake’s original offer to pay her for her work as a beta reader. Marisol spent a few moments wondering whether she should open up to Blake about how close her family was to living in poverty. But then she decided against it. Talking about that topic would require Marisol admitting to things she was not proud of.
A noisy clattering sound caught Marisol’s attention. Aisling had withdrawn a large plastic bag from the pantry and tore it open, causing hundreds of tiny brown candies to scatter loudly across the wood floor. Sebakhira was holding onto her sides, laughing. Aisling looked like she was going to cry.
“I just wanted to see what they were.” The fairy choked. “They smelled delicious.”
“Hmm… speaking of smells…” Sebakhira muttered.
The lioness tilted her head toward the ceiling and took in several whiffs. At the same time, Marisol got down on her knees and grabbed one of the candies off the floor. She took a cautious nibble.
“Chocolate?” Marisol said. Then she popped the whole thing into her mouth and let out a happy squeal.
“Chocolate-covered blueberries! I’ve had these before, they’re so good.”
Aisling’s face lit up. She dropped to her hands and knees and began eating the little candies as fast as she could grab them. Each time Aisling popped a chocolate-covered blueberry into her mouth, she let out a moan of joyous ecstasy that could be easily mistaken for something less wholesome.
Meanwhile, Sebakhira was looking at the far end of the kitchen, where a pair of green eyes was looking out of the basement door. A tiny black cat, hidden in the darkness, locked eyes with Sebakhira and licked his chops.
“You’re a brave one, aren’t you?” Sebakhira said to the cat. “Are your brothers nearby? I can smell them.”
The black cat flicked his tail and stood his ground.
A moment later, Blake re-entered the kitchen, followed by another man. Marisol did a double-take.
“Who is this guy?” She said.
The man standing next to Blake was a sixty-year-old white American, he had a full beard of black and silver and a slightly jovial expression.
“This is my dad, J.D.” Blake said. “I know, naming characters after myself and my family is an uncreative idea, I’ve heard it all before. Let’s move on.”
J.D. Robinson looked from Aisling to Sebakhira and finally to Marisol, a bewildered expression on his face.
“How does that work?” Marisol asked incredulously. “You’re black! He’s white!”
Blake narrowed his eyes and replied coldly:
“Never seen a mixed-race family before, huh? My mom’s black, that’s where I get it from.”
J.D. shrugged, pointed at Marisol, and said:
“So you’ve started dating island girls now, huh? I told you so! Your tastes would change as you got older.”
Both Blake and Marisol blushed.
“Dude! I’m not dating her. She’s my beta reader, and she’s child-sized!” Blake snapped.
“What’s wrong with being able to bench-press your girlfriend?” J.D. replied, giving his son a very mischievous grin. Sebakhira was trying to hold back another laugh.
“We’re not dating and I’m not child-sized!” Marisol replied.
“Said the kid who needs a booster seat.” Blake shot back.
“Four. Feet. Ten.” Marisol seethed.
Blake looked over Marisol’s shoulder and spotted Aisling on the floor.
“Oh, God.” He breathed. “Aisling, how many of those did you eat!?”
Aisling, human-shaped once again, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, clutching the bag of chocolate-covered blueberries in one hand and happily licking the fingers of her other hand. There was chocolate smeared around her lips.
“They’re so good!” Aisling declared.
Blake pinched his nose.
“You’re totally gonna get sick.” He said. “Bathroom is down that hallway to the right.”
“The what?” Aisling asked.
She stood up and cautiously moved out the kitchen, exploring the rest of the house. Blake’s father watched her go, then looked back at Blake.
“I know I’ve been pushing really hard for you to find a girlfriend, son… but you know you’re only allowed one at a time, right?”
Blake looked like he was going to explode. Marisol fought the urge to laugh at his expense… and she lost.
“So… Blake... having trouble finding girls?” She sniped.
“Shut up.” Blake retorted.
He shook his head and then pulled a smartphone from his pocket.
“Meanwhile, I got a message from Cali. She’s on her way here. She just got side-tracked at Capital Region Airport… but she’s on the move again.”
“Side-tracked?” Sebakhira asked. “Did your friend say how she was waylaid?”
“No.” Blake replied. “But she did say she would tell us about it when she got here.”
At that moment, a loud scream issued from the hallway. Blake, J.D., Sebakhira, and Marisol ran out of the kitchen.
Aisling had dropped the bag of candies and, in her fright, shapeshifted into a wolf. Hackles raised, she was growling at a small white object in the hallway. Blake saw it and then began to laugh.
“Calm down, Aisling. That thing isn’t going to hurt you.”
“What is it?” Sebakhira and Marisol both asked.
“My robot.” Blake replied. “When I was younger I loved building with LEGO… it’s uh… LEGO is a type of plastic construction toy. Anyway, I built a motorized, programmable robot out of LEGO. That’s what you’re looking at, Aisling. His name is Asimov and I think he likes you.”
Asimov let out a series of shrill beeps and then spoke in a stilted, computerized voice.
“I am A51-M0V. Please identify.”
“A robot?” Sebakhira replied. “So it’s not sapient?”
Blake winced.
“Well, the last time Cali was here, she insisted on using her nanobots to upgrade him. I don’t really know what she did to him. Azzie just kinda lives in his own world now and I don’t ask questions.”
Aisling snarled at Asimov.
“Hostile.” Asimov declared before turning around on its little plastic wheels and moving away.
Blake’s father, meanwhile, was looking at Aisling.
“Hey Blake, is that the Sidhe girl you were telling me about?”
“Yeah, that’s her.” Blake replied.
J.D. stepped into the living room, located adjacent to the hallway, and started running his hand across the bookshelf, looking for something. Aisling turned back into a girl.
“Your father knows about my kind?” She asked.
“My dad’s side of the family is Irish.” Blake explained. “Immigrated to America back in the 1880’s.”
Blake’s father returned moments later with a small green book in his hand.
“Here, Blake.” J.D. said. “You might need the glossary in the back of this book.”
It was a copy of The Dreaming Tree by C.J. Cherryh. The final pages of the book were dedicated to a small glossary of old English, Welsh, and Celtic names.
… Kiri Ranginui
Creation
Wayne County, Michigan
The largest city in Michigan is called Detroit. It is a sprawling metropolis, and its location next to both a waterborne trade route and an international border make it the beating heart of Michigan’s economy.
Tucked away between art deco facades of bigger and better things is a quaint, three-story brick building. The second and third floors are covered in windows, each a little portrait into the lives of the folks living behind them. The first floor, though, has only a single oaken door behind a wrought-iron security grate.
On either side of it hangs a myriad of flags. A platypus skeleton on navy blue, an assortment of pride flags, and of course the proud flag of the city itself: flags on flags, watched over by two women: one weeping at what was lost, the other comforting her with what was to come. From the ashes we rise again, she seems to say. A humble sign above the door proclaims:
Whiskey in the jAAR
The establishment is a cozy bar, with restaurant-style seating available for those who wanted more than a drink. Nearly three dozen taps stand tall in front of a wall of spirits that would make even the most seasoned connoisseur blush.
Standing across the street from the bar, four people lurked in the shadows.
Akira Robinson folded her arms and listened while one of her companions tried to argue with her.
“I had him! Why the hell did you have Kiri pull me back!?” Tenna Annora was furious.
“To kill the author right now would have been a waste.” Akira replied. “Remember what Malum told us before we went through the Gate? ‘We have to make this count for something.’ Taking down Blake is just the beginning of something greater. He must die at the right moment, and that was not it.”
Tenna folded her arms, momentarily looking a little like her younger self.
“Sounds like you’re just making excuses for Malum. He doesn’t need this stupid complicated plan. Just go in there, turn Blake into a red mist, move on to the next thing. It’s not that hard!”
“You remain short-sighted.” Akira replied. “We’ll fix that in time.”
Kiri Ranginui, standing on Akira’s right, nodded in assent. Then he produced a tablet computer.
“Here we go.” He announced. “The user called ‘Chac1’ just logged out of the forums. He’s gone.”
The fourth member of the group shifted on their feet.
“If you’re right, we may be able to accelerate our plans.” The fourth person said. “We could bring Malum into this world much earlier than we thought.”
“I’ll cross my fingers.” Kiri replied. “I wish you luck, your majesty.”
A moment later, the heavy oak door opened and someone stepped out of the Bar. The person who emerged was a slender young Caucasian woman with dirty blonde hair. Kiri recognized her at once. Even though she was dressed in the garb of a barmaid, this woman was clearly a character from a story written by Macavity116.
“Incredible.” Kiri breathed. “This Chac fellow actually managed to get Erin Bowie to return to work… even after Blake told her to hide.”
“Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth.” Akira said, then she addressed the fourth person in her group. “Move. Now.”
…
Kiri locked eyes on the fourth person as they began to move. What happened next defies explanation… but this is roughly what Kiri saw:
A female Maori warrior, dressed in nothing but a knee-length grass skirt and armed with a shark-tooth spear, began to cross the street, nimbly weaving her way between cars, trucks, and pedestrians. There were hundreds of people in the area… and yet… No one acknowledged her. The warrior was plainly visible to Kiri, who held his eyes open, knowing that if he lost track of her for even a moment, he too would lose the ability to see her.
Psionic energy rippled off the Maori warrior as she advanced on the Bar. Erin Bowie was now out of the door and iron security gate. She was walking away. The door was starting to swing shut. Out of an abundance of caution, Tenna retreated into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, where she drew a gauss pistol and pointed it across the street, aiming directly at the back of Erin Bowie’s head. Tenna held her fire.
The security gate was almost shut. The Maori warrior quickened her pace. She jumped and slid across the hood of a car, its driver completely oblivious to both her presence and action. With only one second to spare, the warrior reached the Bar and stuck her foot in the gate. Then she reached forward and used a barely noticeable pulse of telekinesis to hold the heavy oak door open. She pushed by the gate and vanished inside of the Bar, allowing the door to shut behind her.
… Whetu Kealoha
Creation
The bAAR, Paradox Interactive Forums
Whetu Kealoha was the main protagonist of a long-forgotten Macavity116 story, written in the early days of his time as a member of the Paradox Interactive Forums. She was a fifteen-year-old Partogan girl who lived and died during a story event called “the Wars of the Famine.”
Whetu was nearly distracted by the overwhelming abundance of food and drink in the bAAR, but she managed to keep her composure and regained focus.
Whetu was making use of her special Psionic power to remain undetected. So long as she held her focus, Whetu could stop other people from perceiving her presence. Unfortunately, this superpower could not defeat technology like security cameras. She would have to move fast.
Holding her shark-tooth spear close, Whetu began to maneuver through the bAAR. She ducked behind a bearded man as he raised a glass and made a declaration in a mild Georgia accent. Then she skillfully evaded a British person wearing a Eurovilla tee-shirt. After that, Whetu had a close call where an old man stared at her with such intensity that Whetu briefly feared she had been spotted. However, the old man was looking through her. He began speaking to someone behind her instead, someone who referred to this gentleman as “The Father of AARLand.”
Finally, Whetu found what she was looking for: a massive stack of bookshelves. Nearby, a wooden sign proclaimed this to be The Inkwell.
Just beyond the Inkwell, on the other side of the bookshelves, Whetu could see a passageway.
Whetu reached down to the flax band that held up her grass skirt. She withdrew a very small walkie-talkie and pushed the talk button three times.
Akira was waiting for this very signal.
It meant Malum would come to the real world far earlier than planned.
Good news, dear readers! @The Kingmaker has nominated this story for the Weekly AAR Showcase. Since my intention was to post a chapter today anyways, I'm going to release Episode 7 this weekend. (on Sunday instead of Tuesday)
The Broken Gates
Episode Six: We’re from Paradox Interactive and we’re here to help. Marisol
Creator
Shiawassee County, Michigan
“Blake... these two are gonna eat you out of house and home.” Marisol said.
Blake did not reply. He just nodded in agreement.
Sebakhira had gotten into the refrigerator and found something that made her very happy.
“Mmm. The food in this world has such multilayered flavors and is very delicious.” The lioness declared, flicking her tail back and forth as she ate in a very sloppy fashion.
“Uh... Sebakhira... that’s a turkey.” Blake said. “A raw... uncooked... turkey. We were saving that for a family get-together.”
Sebakhira sank her claws into what remained of the turkey.
“Mmm, yes. You are a most gracious host for sharing such a wonderful bounty with us.” Sebakhira said through a mouthful of turkey meat.
Aisling tried to say something, but her mouth was full.
“That’s a salad.” Marisol giggled. “Aren’t you going to put any dressing on it?”
“Dressing?” Aisling replied curiously, grabbing a handful of cold spinach leaves right out of the refrigerator and stuffing them in her mouth.
Marisol shook her head.
“Blake, if we live through this, promise me that you’ll write more food into your books.”
“Consider it done.” Blake replied. “I don’t think I wrote a single food-related thing in either of their stories, so these ladies have only known grey goo... if that.”
...
While the group waited for Cali’s arrival, Blake’s father pulled Marisol aside and started asking questions about her personal life. It felt very much like the type of conversation Marisol might have if she was meeting her boyfriend’s father for the first time.
She gave J.D. a quick rundown of her life story, starting with the death of her father.
“When I was one year old, my father went off to war.” Marisol explained. “There were Islamist rebels in the south, trying to take Mindanao Island and break away from the Philippines to make their own country. The war went for almost fifty years. My father went to Mindanao and fought terrorists all the time. He was only home for a little while, then he had to go again. He got killed when I was six.”
Blake brewed some hot cocoa and served it to the group, making sure to give Aisling a smaller serving, as she was rapidly eating her way through all of the sweets in the house. Then he sat down to listen.
“My mom, my sister, my brother and I all started working. We had to bring in as much money as we could so that we didn’t lose our apartment. Momma, Mariposa and I all got into the hospitality service. My brother’s still too young to get a full-time job anywhere so Momma and I bring in the most money.”
“What do you do for work?” J.D. asked.
“I’m an air stewardess. Asiana Airlines.” Marisol replied. “I’m the only one in my family without a criminal record, so flying out of the country is easy for me.”
J.D. tried to press her for more information, asking about how she met Blake, but Marisol did not go into further explanations. Instead, she said she was uncomfortable and needed some fresh air.
…
Amidst the general chaos of the past few hours, Marisol had somehow managed to keep hold of her skateboard. She felt naked, riding around without a helmet or protective pads, but it was still a good way to relieve stress. Blake’s house was at the top of a small hill, so Marisol was able to lose herself for a few minutes, rolling through the darkened street. Even though it was late at night, only two streetlamps were illuminated. Again, Marisol found the darkness of a Michigan night to be overwhelming.
“What’s that down there?” A soft voice called out.
Aisling was sitting on the branches of a tree in Blake’s front yard, kicking her feet and looking like a much smaller child than what Marisol had seen previously. She pointed to a building at the end of the street.
“It’s bigger than Ulster Castle.” Aisling remarked.
“That’s the local High School.” Marisol replied. “Blake said he lived close to it.”
“Schools are huge in this world.” Aisling sounded awestruck. “I wonder what the castles are like.”
“Why are you out here?” Marisol asked.
“I saw a cat through the window. Now I can’t find him.”
“Probably a local stray.” Marisol replied.
Aisling shapeshifted into a squirrel, sniffing the air intensely. Marisol looked back at the house. She could see through the front window. Blake and Sebakhira were in the living room. He was holding a laptop computer and reading aloud. Marisol took a few steps closer and strained her ears to listen.
Blake was reading aloud from one of his previous stories:
“All of the Stormbreakers cheered at their own success… all except Varian, who had a look of dawning realization on her (or his) face.
‘Hey, Ninu.’ Varian said. ‘Were you sensing Psionic energy at all during… all of that?’
Ninu nodded.
‘The whole time.’
Varian’s eyes went wide. Then he (or she) turned around and started walking towards a nearby tree. It was still on fire and was dropping hot embers as though they were autumn leaves. Before anyone could object, Varian reached out and grabbed the tree trunk, putting their entire hand and wrist into the flames, and pressing their palm against the hot embers.
‘Varian! What are you doing!?’ Corder screamed.
‘It’s not real.’ Varian muttered. ‘Fire’s not real. The whole thing’s fake.’
As soon as Varian said the words, the illusion was shattered for the other Stormbreakers. Instantly, the forest fire vanished. The air became cool. And down in the valley, the Stormbreakers could see that Hyatt and her followers were still trapped in the illusion of a wildfire. They cried out for Jericho to save them from a nonexistent threat, and one of the Acolytes waved his arms about as though his clothes were on fire.”
Sebakhira narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. But then, something happened. Blake raised his voice in alarm.
“What the!? What’s happening here?”
Marisol could not see the screen of Blake’s laptop, but she could see the blue light suddenly appear in his face. She ran forward and banged her fists on the window.
“Blake!” She yelled. “Drop it! Another character’s coming out!”
A rushing sound caught Marisol’s attention, and she turned around just in time to see what was happening. Just like back in her hotel room, a translucent disk had appeared in midair, looking not unlike a wormhole from Stellaris.
Two people fell out of the Vortex Portal, which quickly began to shrink. Both of the newcomers failed to stick the landing and collapsed in the grass. Blake and Sebakhira ran out into the yard. Blake was clutching his musket in both hands, covering the new arrivals while Sebakhira turned her attention to the rapidly shrinking portal.
“If it worked in The Stormbreakers...” Sebakhira said aloud.
Then she pulled one arm back, motioning as though she was going to throw something. A shimmering purple rod appeared in her paw. It was a Psionic Lance, a construct of telekinetic energy that could be used to harm an enemy. Sebakhira hurled the Psi Lance with all her might and the bolt sailed into the Vortex Portal. Just as the Portal closed and vanished, Sebakhira raised her hackles and let out a deep growl.
“I hit someone.” She said. “I could feel it.”
“Both of you stay down!” Blake yelled at the newcomers. “I can see your concealed weapons. Don’t try anything! Marisol, get their guns. The girl has a gun in her vest, right side! The guy has a gun in his waistband… or girl… or is it… aw FUCK! It’s you!”
Marisol approached the woman first. She was very small, almost the same size as Aisling when the fairy was in human shape. She had white skin and pointed ears that immediately made Marisol think about elves from The Lord of the Rings, and most noticeable of all, this woman had two tattoos: On her face, just where her left eyebrow should have been, there was a narrow symbol instead. And on the woman’s right inner forearm, Marisol could see the number 0214 tattooed in a very similar style to the tattoos found on Holocaust survivors. Marisol quickly found the Plasma Pistol in the woman’s vest and took it, alarmed by how heavy it was.
“That…” Blake said. “Is Mina Soban-Re. She’s the deuterogamist and love interest from A Coldwar Affair. I wrote her a couple years back.”
“You know me.” Mina Soban-Re spoke, the Hiigaran language somehow instantly converting to English as the words left her mouth. “You’re the author that alien told us about.”
Marisol and Blake turned their attention to the other person… and Marisol hesitated, unsure if she was dealing with a man or a woman. This confusion allowed Marisol to quickly figure out the stranger’s identity:
“And you must be Varian Robinson!” Marisol said. She reached down and grabbed a Gauss Pistol out of Varian’s waistband. “Or should we skip all that and just call you Victoria?”
Varian Robinson was a young adult, just nineteen years old. He (or she) had a messy mop of black hair, caramel-colored skin, vaguely Asian features, and a highly androgynous body type, which made it impossible to tell at a glance whether Varian was male or female.
Marisol had read The Last Heroes one year ago. She knew that while Varian presented outwardly as androgynous, the character was secretly Transgender and was planning to embrace their “true identity” as a woman named Victoria. However, Marisol’s casual use of the feminine name caused Varian to react badly. This meant she was dealing with an earlier version of the character.
“How do you know that name!?” Varian asked in a panicked voice. “That’s supposed to be secret!”
“Maybe we should refrain from spoiling their stories.” Blake recommended. “It’s bad enough we somehow managed to draw a member of the Robinson family. I’m just glad it wasn’t Chihiro, or God-forbid, Blake himself.”
Then he aimed his musket at Varian. Marisol knew Blake was bluffing. Neither of these characters had Psionic powers, meaning they would not be affected by the homemade Anti-Psionic weapon. Even so, Marisol put her hands on her hips and tried to make herself look intimidating, tilting her head so the glare of the streetlights would reflect in her glasses.
“Let me guess…” Blake said. “A blue-skinned alien told you that I’m the guy who created your worlds and that you should kill me?”
“Something like that.” Varian replied.
Marisol noticed that Varian was speaking English from the outset. Her (or his) words matched their mouth movements. Varian jerked their head at Mina.
“This one was all on board the plan to kill you… but then I saw who that Malum guy was working with, and I knew I would jump ship as soon as he sent us through the Gate.”
Mina shot a glare at Varian. Marisol knew that if she was not being held at gunpoint, Mina would have attacked Varian in that moment.
“Hold on… who is Malum working with?” Blake asked. “I know about Kiri and Tenna.”
Blake looked up at Marisol.
“Didn’t you say something about Akira, too?”
Marisol nodded.
“Yeah, Akira’s here.” She replied.
Varian’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m supposed to be killing Akira, not working with her.” She (or he) responded. “I’m not doing anything she wants, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you guys. But the Hiigaran chick? We’re at war with Hiigara anyway. Might as well waste her.”
Mina flinched at how casually Varian suggested killing her.
“Your world is at war with Hiigara.” Marisol interjected. “Not this one. Now who’s Malum working with? Tell us and we’ll get you out of the cold.”
Varian turned to Blake.
“You look like a younger version of my grandpa.” Varian said.
“He’s a fictional version of me.” Blake replied. “Same name, same face. I wrote myself into the stories. Happy? Now tell me who Malum’s working with already!”
A half-smile crossed Varian’s features.
“Akira, obviously. Then there’s a human called Uisce. Tenna, she’s a humanoid. Can’t miss her, red hair. Two aliens, a brother and a sister. There’s an older version of Nezzie’s sister, Cassandra. A Partogan called Whetu who’s just naked all the time and no one seems to care… oh… and Mina’s boyfriend.”
“Kiri.” Mina said. “His name’s Kiri.”
Blake lowered his musket.
“We’re up shit creek without a paddle.” Blake remarked. “Marisol, Aisling. Let’s get these two inside. Try to make some sense out of this catastrophe.”
Just before Marisol stepped through the front door, she noticed one of Blake’s neighbors, standing on the front porch of her house, watching the scene play out with a cellphone to her ear.
…
“Okay, so for the both you: in your plot, this place would be considered the past. But this isn’t time travel. You’ve figured that out, haven’t you?”
Blake was trying to gauge just how much Mina and Varian knew about the situation. Aisling took an interest in Mina’s tattoos while Sebakhira was silently reading Varian’s mind with a curious expression on her face. Varian was motivated to join Blake and Marisol’s side simply because Akira was on the opposing side. Mina, however, was not swayed.
“You’re the reason I can’t be with Kiri.” She said, narrowing her eyes at Blake. “I can’t forgive you for using my love life to entertain a bunch of strangers.”
“Kiri?” J.D. asked.
“Her love interest.” Blake replied. “The guy who showed up in Shiatown when Tenna confronted us.”
J.D. put his hand on Blake’s shoulder.
“Well, if you can’t be with him… why not consider this young man?”
Blake shot an angry look at his father, who seemed to be enjoying his time as a wildcard. Mina gripped her right arm tightly, covering up the ID number tattooed there.
“I don’t date humans.” She replied in a voice full of suppressed hatred.
“Are you done trying to get me killed?” Blake snapped. “Look, Mina. Sorry to do this, but the situation is just too dangerous. If you’re going to remain hostile, I’m just gonna have to detain you.”
“Detain?” Aisling repeated.
“That means we are going to take her prisoner.” Sebakhira quickly explained. Then she looked at Blake. “You don’t need to leave the room to gather zip-ties. Allow me.”
A pulse of telekinetic energy rippled out of Sebakhira. A moment later, several plastic zip-ties flew through the air, emerging from the basement, and gently placed themselves in Blake’s hands. Mina narrowed her eyes at Sebakhira.
“Right… hands behind your back, Mina.” Blake said. “I promise no one is going to hurt you, but we need to keep ourselves safe.”
Right at that very moment, all of the lights went out. The house fell silent as the electric power was shut off.
“A blackout?” Varian said.
As if in reply, there was a tinkle of breaking glass. Something had just smashed the living room window. Marisol looked around and spotted a small cylindrical object on the floor.
“What is that?” She asked. Blake looked down, then screamed:
“FLASHBANG!”
Suddenly, the world was full of light and noise. Marisol was dazzled and barely noticed as she fell over, blind and deaf. Someone jumped on top of her and forced Marisol to roll over onto her belly. Cold metal closed around her wrists, pinning her hands behind her back. A moment later, Marisol regained the ability to hear. She could just perceive a woman’s voice saying:
“Calm down everyone! This is for your own safety! My name is Cali D’Kara and this is my go-team. We’re from Paradox Interactive and we’re here to help.”
The Broken Gates
Episode Seven: She’s not an object; don’t talk about her like that. Marisol
Creator
Oakland County, Michigan
Up until this moment, Marisol had felt as though this whole situation had been a fun adventure, much like the sci-fi fanfics she loved to read. But now, a harsh kind of reality set in as she was bundled into the back of an armored van before it drove away to destinations unknown.
In the rear of the van, Marisol, Blake, J.D., Aisling, Varian, and Mina were seated on a metal bench, their hands cuffed behind their backs. Sebakhira was curled up on the floor, while half-a-dozen men and women dressed in urban combat fatigues took up the bench on the other side. One of the men was carrying a black canvas bag.
One woman stood out from the rest of the group. She had spiky purple hair and was very tall in comparison to those around her. She leaned forward to speak, adjusting her black helmet so that it hid her pointed ears from view. When the woman began to talk, Marisol noticed that she spoke in English with a light, barely perceptible Swedish accent. (her voice carried a sing-song melody)
“My name is Cali D’Kara.” She said. “I apologize for the violent introduction, but our inside man reported Blake was holding someone at gunpoint, so we decided to make the whole situation safe as quickly as possible.”
“Inside man?” Blake repeated.
A loud beeping sound came from the canvas bag. The man holding it opened the neck and produced a small robot made out of LEGO.
“Internal IMU limit!” Asimov said. “Unit has rolled over. Check for damage.”
“You’re holding him upside down.” Blake muttered. “Serves the little spy right.”
Cali took Asimov and held the little robot in her lap. Then she said:
“Who here is new to this world?”
Varian, Sebakhira, Aisling, and Mina turned to look at Cali.
“Four more… fuck.” Cali said. She shot an unpleasant look at J.D., and then she looked at Marisol. “Who the hell are you?”
“Okay, Blake emailed me about you.” Cali said. Then she addressed the group.
“So for those of you who don’t know, my name is Cali, and I’ve already been through what you’ve experienced. I was a character in two of Blake’s stories until I fell through the Fourth Wall and ended up in the real world. I’ve been here for a little less than a year now.”
“Question.” Varian interrupted. “Are you a Hiigaran?”
“No. I’m Alari.” Cali replied. “Blake reused the Hiigaran template when he made up my species. Our physical appearance and language are lifted from the Hiigarans.”
Mina’s eyes went wide and then she started speaking in a language that was not English. Cali turned and locked eyes with Mina, replying in the same tongue. Marisol strained her ears, listening hard. She knew that whenever Blake needed a fictional language for his stories, he would often “borrow” a language from the real world and use it as a stand-in. Marisol had been exposed to many different languages while working as aircrew… and she quickly figured it out.
“Hindi.” Marisol muttered to herself. “They’re speaking Hindi.”
Cali held up a hand and switched back to English.
“Okay, Hiigaran and Alari are similar enough that we can understand each other. That’s good to know… it also looks like the Babelfish Anomaly is still in full effect, too. We’ll need to keep an eye on that.”
“Babelfish Anomaly?” Marisol asked.
“Haven’t you noticed that you can all understand each other? Even though you’re speaking different languages?” Cali said. “We noticed it after we picked up the other two outside of town.”
Marisol and Blake both dropped their jaws.
“Other two?” Marisol repeated.
“We caught two more of your characters, Blake.” Cali said. “As we were rolling into your town, we found them trying to infiltrate. My men are interrogating them right now. Speaking of… hey Astrad! Are we there yet!?”
…
The armored van pulled off the road and came to a stop at a disused State Police outpost in Oakland County, just outside of the greater Detroit Metropolitan Area. Here, a convoy of black armored cars and trucks were loitering, engines still running. Marisol and Blake were told to step off the truck and into the parking lot.
Their hands still cuffed behind their backs, Blake and Marisol were guided to a large armored truck. It had been parked strategically so that no one on the highway could see what was happening behind it. A group of armed SWAT specialists were holding two people at gunpoint.
“More of your characters, Blake.” Marisol said.
She recognized one of them immediately. He was a teenage boy, roughly fifteen or sixteen years old. He had sandy blonde hair, indigo-colored eyes, and a very strong build, as though he had spent most of his teenage years laboring in a farmfield.
“Trig Shepminter, it’s so nice to meet you.” Marisol said. “In person I mean.”
The boy called Trig startled, looking around at Marisol.
“Appia!?” Trig gasped, then his face fell. “No… but you’ve got her voice.”
Next to Trig was an alien. It took Marisol a few seconds to realize she was staring at a very large bird-like creature. It was afflicted with albinism: all of the bird’s feathers were white, and its eyes blood-red. While Blake spoke to Trig, Marisol quickly realized what this creature was: it was a peahen! The female variety of peafowl.
The albino peahen looked directly at Marisol and spoke to her:
“That peahen has a name. I am Kanti Divakar, and I’m Vanian.”
Marisol staggered on her feet.
“Okay, first there was a talking lion, now there’s a talking bird.” She breathed. “I need to go back to church.”
One of the SWAT operatives gestured to Kanti and said:
“So this bird is another one of your Creations, Robinson?”
This comment got a rise out of Marisol.
“She’s not an object; don’t talk about her like that.” Marisol snapped.
“Hey, uh… these two are both Gifted.” Blake said. “They’re probably having a telepathic conversation this whole time.”
Cali narrowed her eyes at Trig and Kanti.
“Alright then, they’ll come with us.”
“Come where?” Marisol asked.
“Stockholm.” Cali replied. “To Paradox Interactive. I promised I would bring all of you to the Countermeasures Committee to figure out our next move.”
Both Marisol and Blake protested.
“I can’t go to Sweden!” Marisol said. “My flight back to Manila leaves tomorrow, and my passport is in the hotel back in Flint! I won’t have a way to get home!
“I can’t go to Sweden either!” Blake added. “The National Guard is drilling this weekend. If I go M.I.A., you’ll have the entire Michigan State Police out hunting for me!”
Cali rounded on Marisol and Blake.
“The two of you caused this situation.” Cali seethed. “Especially you, Blake. Dragging this poor girl into your selfish fantasies, you’ve got no shame.”
Cali looked like she wanted to go on, but she was interrupted. Three state police cars raced past the scene on the highway, lights and sirens on. A moment later, Cali’s radio crackled.
“D’Kara? This is Magnusson. We’ve got a situation developing in Downtown Detroit. There’s a mass shooting on Jefferson Avenue. Gunman is using sci-fi weapons consistent with previous reports.”
Cali signaled the other SWAT operatives.
“Everyone load up! We’re going to Detroit!”
Marisol and Blake both raised their voices to get Cali’s attention.
“It sounds like one of my characters is raising hell over there.” Blake said.
“In that case… we might be able to help!” Marisol added. “Maybe you could uncuff all of us?”
… Tenna Annora
Creation
Wayne County, Michigan
Tenna used telekinesis to throw a man off his motorcycle. Then she mounted the bike and revved the engine, roaring down Jefferson Avenue at speed. Her dress billowed in the wind like a parachute. To her left, Tenna saw Downtown Detroit. To her right was the Detroit River and the Canadian border.
“You found the new person? Where!?” Tenna yelled into the mouthpiece of her headset.
“Just follow the sirens.” A voice replied. “Getting this new person on our side might be out of the question.”
Nearly two dozen emergency vehicles had congregated outside of the GM Renascence Center, the tallest building in the State of Michigan. Something terrifying was happening here.
Just fifty feet away from the base of the tower, a brown-skinned woman with wild grey hair was aiming a Laser Rifle into the entrance of the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel. Whenever a vehicle emerged from the underground border crossing, she opened fire at it, causing drivers to panic and swerve. Several wrecked cars and trucks were burning nearby.
Detroit police officers were firing their own weapons at her, but seemed to be having no effect whatsoever. As Tenna dismounted her stolen motorbike and approached on foot, she heard one of the police officers say:
“Message from Lansing! It’ll take an hour to scramble the National Guard!”
“National Guard!?” The Wayne County Sherriff replied. “Does the Army know what’s happening here!?”
The strange woman turned away from the tunnel entrance and began firing her Laser Rifle at the police cars.
“Find cover!” The cops yelled.
A man and a woman spotted Tenna and ran over to her. Both of these people had hair that was dyed in bright pastel colors and pointed ears. They were Alaricharacters from one of Macavity116’s stories.
The man, Dak J’Bassim, pointed at the mass shooter, then yelled to Tenna.
“Tell Malum there’s no chance in hell we can make an ally out of her!” Dak yelled. “She’s rogue! She’s insane!”
“She tried to shoot us both!” Replied the woman. This was Dak’s younger sister, Moka J’Bassim.
Laser fire raked the scene. Tenna, Dak, and Moka threw themselves to the ground. The police broke ranks and began to retreat.
“Screw this! I’m taking her down!” Tenna said.
She stood up and threw herself over a burning police car, facing this new threat.
The woman was Partogan, dressed in a Triple Alliance military uniform from the Second Hyperspace War. (one of Blake’s oldest stories) Her face was so completely covered in Maori tattoos that it was very difficult to discern details about the dangerous woman. As soon as she saw Tenna, the stranger raised her Laser Rifle and took aim.
Tenna raised a Telekinetic Shield with one hand, deflecting the first laser beam effortlessly. The crimson bolt sailed off-target and struck the Scientology building down the street, setting it on fire. Tenna summoned her willpower and put her free hand to her heart. Blue Soulfire ignited in her palm, brighter than the inferno around her.
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” Tenna yelled to her enemy.
The woman laughed. It was the high, cold laugh of a psychopath.
“What’s my name matter to you?” She replied. “Leave me alone if you wanna live!”
Tenna opened her palm and loosed a volley of Soulfire. The blue flames shot across the street toward the stranger, only to be deflected at the last moment. A shimmering Telekinetic shield materialized in front of the madwoman, and moments later, four figures came racing into view: a lioness, a peahen, a girl, and a boy.
Sebakhira, Kanti, Aisling, and Trig quickly placed themselves between the madwoman and Tenna. Trig raised his hand and spoke into a cell phone.
“We found them!” Trig said.
Kanti turned around and looked at the madwoman, a sorrowful expression on her face.
“Oh, no…” Kanti said. “Shepminter! Tell D’Kara the mass shooter in the reports is an old friend of mine: Kailani Kalili.”
I realize this story is complex and can be hard to follow, so I've got a little bit of good news for you: This chapter contains the final identification of a member of Team Malum. As of this point, all members of that side have now been identified.
This means the roster of "Fictional characters who appeared in the real world" is nearly complete. There is only one unidentified character left, and then we will have our full cast for the rest of the story!
The Broken Gates
Episode Eight: We’re just having a little war out here. How are you? Akira Robinson
Creation
The SolAARium, Paradox Interactive Forums
Akira Robinson and Whetu Kealoha kept to the shadows as they moved through the SolAARium. It was very unlike the bAAR in Detroit. This place was structured more like an academic center, complete with classrooms and an auditorium.
The place was very crowded, and each woman was using her own Psionic technique to remain hidden. Akira was using Psionic Manipulation, making herself appear different to anyone who looked at her. Whetu continued using Psionic Stealth to make herself undetectable. (to the naked eye)
Whetu and Akira followed a small crowd of people into an auditorium, slipping inside just before the doors closed. An American man was standing on the stage, flanked by several pieces of artwork displayed on tripod easels. While the two Creations infiltrated the crowd, the American commenced his lecture.
“…As someone who manages an AAR inspired by graphic novels, it is essential for me to approach the use of AI in an ethical way. I don’t have a budget to pay artists, as some have done, even if it is a relatively small amount, or to pay for software licenses. But this is not about software. It’s about solutions for creating images.”
Akira took up a spot by the door. She was going to be Whetu’s escape route. The young Partogan slipped down to the front of the auditorium, unseen, and then began working her way back to the rear. As she moved, Whetu closely examined each of the people attending the lecture. Whetu telepathically probed everyone in the front of the auditorium, while Akira probed everyone in the back.
After about fifteen minutes, Whetu regrouped with Akira and both women quietly departed. Back out in the hallway, Whetu shook her head.
“No sign of HistoryDude or FamilyTreeEnthusiast.” She said. “They’re not here.”
“I didn’t see them either.” Akira reported. “We’ll just have to skip that part of the plan if we can’t find them quickly.”
“But those two have analyzed Blake’s work more closely than anyone else.” Whetu protested. “Who else would have… oh, what did you call it… ‘world-building level knowledge’ about Blake’s stories? We cannot replace him with any random writer.”
“We’ll have to go with Chosenpai… Marisol.” Akira admitted. “We can’t afford to waste time on a wild goose chase.”
“I know Malum would prefer one of those two… would he take Marisol instead of HistoryDude?” Whetu said.
“I could try to convince him.” Akira replied. “It would be easier if Tenna agrees to help. Let me call her.”
Akira and Whetu moved to a dark corner of the SolAARium and hid behind a statue of Lord Durham. Akira produced a cell phone and dialed the contact labelled “Tenna Annora.”
At once, a noisy racket came out of the speaker, followed by heavy breathing.
“What the hell is going on over there?” Akira hissed into the phone.
“Oh, nothing.” Tenna replied in a high-pitched voice. “We’re just having a little war out here. How are you?”
… Marisol
Creator
Wayne County, Michigan
Marisol, Blake, and J.D. were pushed aside as Cali and her SWAT team dismounted from the armored van.
“Stay here and keep your heads down!” Cali ordered.
“Like hell!” Blake said as soon as she was gone.
Marisol could hear the sounds of laser and plasma weapons fire, along with an unfamiliar rushing sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She jumped out of the van.
“You coming?” She asked Blake.
The two writers scrambled away from the Paradox convoy, following the sounds of screaming and gunfire through the dense urban environment. Rounding a corner, they found the GM Renaissance center, illuminated by the orange glow of fire.
Marisol felt Blake’s hand on her shoulder before she was violently tossed through the door of a nearby restaurant.
“GET DOWN!” Was all Blake had time to yell before the chatter of gunfire filled the air.
Patrons screamed as the windows were shattered. Laser bolts sailed over people’s heads and smashed dozens of liquor bottles behind the counter. The noise and heat and chaos of the scene overwhelmed Marisol… and her mental state changed.
Suddenly… she was standing with one foot in the present and one foot in the past…
Marisol could see the chaos unfolding around her, but she could only hear a dark moment from her childhood.
It happened on January 25th, 2011. Marisol was eleven years old. Just fifty yards down the street from where Marisol was playing, terrorists set off a bomb, blasting a city bus into bits.
Marisol could clearly remember the sound of metal debris falling from the sky. The sound of car alarms. The sound of people screaming and running away. The sound of her younger sister starting to cry. The sound was the only part of that day she could remember: Little Mariposa asking her big sister what to do.
“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do, but we can’t stay here.”
Marisol’s words from the past propelled her into motion in the present. She was in deep, way over her head… but Marisol knew that staying idle, waiting for something to happen, was the wrong answer.
Marisol pulled herself back into the moment and ran out of the damaged restaurant. She followed the sounds of angry yelling around a corner and found an incredible scene.
Some kind of standoff was happening on Jefferson Avenue, between the Renaissance Center and the Tunnel to Canada. Four of Blake’s characters were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, aiming their weapons at the Paradox SWAT team, who was quickly moving to surround them.
“Get the Anti-Psionic Stun Bombs ready!” one of the men shouted.
Sebakhira was stalking the perimeter, teeth bared and a Psionic aura enveloping her. Trig stood in front of Blake, shielding the author with both his body and a Telekinetic field. Kanti was perched atop a SWAT vehicle, watching the proceedings. Aisling (in her wolf form) watched as a pair of SWAT operators handcuffed Kailani. Varian had grabbed a fallen pistol and was keeping ahold of Mina, who was shouting loudly at one of the enemies.
Kiri Ranginui, Dak J’Bassim, and Moka J’Bassim were all looking as though they were taken by surprise. They called out from behind the safety of Tenna’s Telekinetic shield.
“Mina! Are you hurt? What did they do to you?” Kiri yelled.
“Cali!? Why are you helping them?” Moka asked.
“Why are you fighting us!?” Cali retorted; her voice filled with equal parts shock and confusion.
Marisol felt her heart plunge into her stomach. Cali, Moka, and Dak were all protagonists from the same story. Dak was Cali’s love interest, and Moka was Dak’s younger sister.
“We came here to rescue you!” Dak replied, pointing at Cali. “We heard you were being held hostage by the author!”
“We wanted to bring all of our allies, but the Gate’s not ready yet.” Moka added.
“I’m not the one who needs rescuing.” Cali said. “It’s Blake we need to protect right now.”
Cali gestured at Blake. Trig side-stepped to hide him from view again. Across the street, Tenna spotted Trig and her expression darkened. Just like Cali, Moka, and Dak, these two knew each other.
“Really, Trig?” Tenna cried out. “After everything we’ve been through together you’re going to defend him?”
“I know what Malum’s gonna do after he kills Blake, and I want no part of that!” Trig responded.
Out of the corner of her eye, Marisol saw Cali’s eyes go wide. Cali barked an order to her men.
“Get that kid someplace safe!” Cali said, pointing at Trig. “We can’t risk anything happening to him.”
Kiri, Moka, and Dak raised their weapons and opened fire, taking aim at Trig himself. Trig used Psionics to deflect the incoming blasts before retaliating with Soulfire. Amidst the cyclone of blue fire, two of the SWAT operators hurled a pair of modified flashbangs into the fray.
Marisol was briefly dazed by two cracks of thunder, but her vision and hearing returned after a moment. However, all of the Gifted characters were down for the count. Kanti, Trig, Aisling, Sebakhira, and Tenna were all writhing in agony, clutching at their eyes. The Soulfire tornado faded away, and a moment later, Moka J’Bassim made her move.
With Trig incapacitated, Blake was suddenly exposed, twenty feet of open road between himself and Moka. With nowhere to hide, Blake let out a yell and started running towards Moka. She raised her Plasma Pistol, got one finger on the trigger…
And then Marisol tackled her.
Both women collapsed to the ground, with Blake reaching them a moment later. Marisol, Blake, and Moka wrestled violently on the pavement, six hands grabbing and grasping for the weapon. Desperate, almost panicking, Marisol fumbled around, found Moka’s face, and jammed one of her fingers into Moka’s eye. Moka screamed and flailed, finally letting go of her weapon and curling up defensively. Blake seized Moka’s weapon and then helped Marisol pin her down, his knee pressing into Moka’s shoulders.
“Look out!” a voice yelled.
Looking up, Marisol realized a battle was playing out around her. Both sides had been deprived of Psionics, so now Cali’s SWAT team was pushing in to detain Tenna, Kiri, Dak, and Moka. While Moka’s three allies were resisting as best they could, something else was happening… something alarming.
As if possessed by a demon, the Detroit River was rearing up as though it was a predatory cat about to pounce. A police helicopter banked sharply and moved to the Canadian side to avoid being hit by the rising cascade. Untold millions of gallons of water rose into the air, suspended by some invisible force.
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS HAPPENING!?” A bystander screamed.
Then, with a great roar, the Detroit River lurched forward and fell onto the city. The deluge quickly submerged Jefferson Street and the surrounding area. Marisol grabbed Blake, trying to hold on, but she was pulled away by the rushing torrent. She lost all of her bearings until she crashed into something rock-solid. Moments later, the inland tsunami subsided. Most of the water flowed back into the riverbed while the rest drained into the Tunnel to Canada. The river retreated into its place, leaving behind a flooded and stunned city.
Coughing, spluttering, and blinking her eyes, Marisol tried to figure out what just happened. She had crashed into the side of a building; and now she was pinned between the marble wall and a fallen tree.
Spraying water as it went, an open-top convertible drove onto the scene. A red-haired woman dressed up in a stereotypical witch’s costume (complete with pointed hat) brought the car to a stop and yelled in an Irish accent:
“Ranginui! Grab Annora and the others! Let’s go!”
Kiri Ranginui staggered to his feet. Moka, Dak, and Tenna had all been swept clear of the SWAT team by the deluge, and ran toward the convertible from all directions. Dak had to hold Tenna’s hand. She was still blind.
Cali clambered to her feet and yelled:
“They’re escaping! Shoot the tires! Shoot the engine!”
A few of the SWAT operators grabbed for their weapons, but the witch lifted her arm, holding a metal rod above her head. A heavy rainstorm seemed to materialize out of nowhere, disorienting the troopers just long enough for the convertible, now fully loaded with enemies, to make its escape. Kiri, Moka, Dak, Tenna, and their unnamed rescuer vanished from view as the convertible sped off into the rainstorm.
Marisol extricated herself from the fallen tree and started making her way back over to the spot where everything had gone haywire. As soon as Marisol spotted Blake, she yelled at him:
“Alright… I am so fucking lost. What the fuck was all that!?”
Dripping from head to toe, Blake looked at the Plasma Pistol he took from Moka and then angrily threw it on the ground.
“That was the Water Witch.” Blake said. “Uisce. She’s from a short story I wrote for an online contest.”
Blake kicked the pistol into a puddle, and then angrily yelled at the sky:
“REALLY MALUM!? You’re just gonna take people from fucking short stories now? Are you running out of ideas or something?”
Then Blake staggered and sat down on a bench.
“This is too much.” Blake said. “I need a break.”
Marisol sat down next to him.
“Me too.” She sighed.
At that moment, both Marisol and Blake felt a buzzing sensation in their pockets. Their cell phones were ringing. Simultaneously, and sharing an eye roll, they checked to see who was calling.
Housekeeping notes: It has come to my attention that using multiple accounts, even if just for narrative purposes, runs counter to the PDX Forum rules. For obvious reasons, I will sunset the “Cali D’Kara” account after this chapter is posted. Fortunately, Cali has been fully re-integrated into the story at this point, eliminating the need for the aforementioned account moving forward. (I've already planned out how her role in this story will end, and yes: The account has been made redundant and can be safely done away with)
For the readers, here is an extra chapter to apologize for the trouble and using minor spoilers to explain the above housekeeping note.
The Broken Gates
Episode Nine: You’re the god of my world. There’s a lot I want to say to you. Marisol
Creator
Wayne County, Michigan
Marisol took a moment to squeeze some water out of her hair and clean her glasses, then answered the phone.
“Reyes speaking.”
A man’s voice replied. He was speaking in Tagalog, a non-standardized version of the Filipino language frequently used in Metro Manila. Marisol, who normally spoke Filipino, strained her ears to keep up.
“Where are you?” The voice said. “Your manager and crew are all out trying to find you. There’s some kind of crisis going on near your location and the airline is making arrangements to get everyone back to Manila as fast as possible.”
“I’m in Detroit.” Marisol said.
She heard the airline employee gasp.
“Uh… stay where you are. We’ll see if we can get someone down there to pick you up.” The man replied. “Where are you? Are you in a shelter? We all saw that mess on the news.”
“Hold on.” Marisol replied. “I’ll get an address.”
Then Marisol ran through the waterlogged streets to grab Cali’s shoulder. Cali was trying to direct her team amidst the chaos of the last few minutes, but most of the men and women were too dazed to do more than look around.
“Is there someplace we can go?” Marisol asked. “Off the street?”
Cali conferred with her teammates, then gave orders:
“Everyone on your feet! We’re… we’re gonna crash with some friends.”
…
Marisol, Sebakhira, Kanti, Varian, Mina, Trig, Aisling, Blake, and J.D. all staggered to their feet and began following Cali and her SWAT team through the street, moving away from the Detroit River and deeper into the city. Blake was still on the phone with his own boss.
“Yes, Sergeant. I know… about ninety minutes, depending on traffic. I’ll, uh… I need the full twenty-four hours’ notice, Sergeant. I’ll be there.”
Blake hung up.
“Lansing is losing their damn mind.” Blake said. “The Governor might declare a state of disaster for Detroit, and the State Police are looking into all of our shenanigans in Shiatown and Owosso. They’re saying I have to report to the armory in the next twenty-four hours, and there’s a State Trooper there waiting to interview me.”
Cali came to a stop in front of a three-story brick building. The words Whiskey in the jAAR were visible on the façade.
“Well, you’re still under my protective custody for now.” Cali told Blake. “Everyone else… is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?”
“I almost drowned!” Mina shouted from the back. “I’m still handcuffed back here! How was I supposed to survive whatever the hell that was!?”
“Stop whining.” Blake retorted. “I grabbed you and pulled you out of the water, didn’t I? Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“You’re the god of my world.” Mina spat. “There’s a lot I want to say to you.”
Cali rolled her eyes and approached a security gate in front of the building. She wrapped her knuckles on it, then stood back. A moment later, the door opened from the inside. A bearded man peered out, looked at the soggy group and said:
“We’re closed due to water damage. Come back when the repair work is done.”
Cali reached into one of her vest pockets and produced an ID card. Next to her face and name was the image of a platypus fossil, the official logo of Paradox Interactive. The bearded man raised an eyebrow, then did a double-take, looking hard at Cali’s pointed ears.
“Oh, snap. You’re that elf girl I heard LD talking about. Actually… I’m glad you brought a Go-Team. Our silent alarm has been going off for hours and one of the employees isn’t answering her phone. Rest of the staff is getting worried.”
“I’m here on Paradox business, and everyone you see here is with me.” Cali replied. “We need to take some time to regroup. Does Paradox still own the apartments on the second floor?”
“Yeah.”
“Any of them vacant?”
“Room 214 is open. So is 228 and 229.”
Cali rounded on the large group of SWAT specialists, Creators, and Creations.
“Males in 214. Females in 229. I want C2 set up in 228. Get our stuff off any trucks that weren’t washed into the fucking river.”
Blake jabbed his thumb at the bAAR.
“I gotta talk to some folks.” He said.
“Not without an armed escort, you’re not.” Cali shot back.
“And Marisol’s coming with me.” Blake added.
“Fine, then I’m coming too.” Cali conceded.
Behind her, Marisol could have sworn she heard Varian let out a girlish giggle. She (or he) found this exchange amusing.
“I’ve seen people in my world have conversations just like that.” Varian said to Trig. “Or… dialogue, I guess I should say. Didn’t realize all of Blake’s characters were just talking with his voice.”
“My voice doesn’t sound like the author.” Kanti ruffled her feathers in an indignant way.
“Now that I think about it… it seems like all of us female characters speak in Blake’s voice, but in a higher pitch.” Sebakhira mused. “Fascinating.”
“Martyrs of Kharak! That makes me wanna kill him more.” Mina cursed.
Marisol and Blake did their best to ignore these comments while they were escorted into the bAAR by Cali. The rest of the Creations were bundled toward a second door that led to the upstairs apartments. Just before Marisol stepped through the heavy oaken door and into the bAAR, a small housecat brushed against her leg. Looking down, Marisol realized this fluffy white cat had red eyes that unmistakably belonged to someone she knew.
Marisol knelt down, scooped up Aisling, and carried her into the bAAR.
…
Inside, a mixture of patrons and staff were attempting to clean up the mess left behind by the deluge. The raging torrent had swept through the bAAR, saturating the place in ankle-deep water during the late-night rush. Blake started looking around the place as though he were a detective searching for clues, and he gestured for Marisol to follow. Meanwhile, the bearded man tried to talk to Cali.
“So, like I was saying… about three or four hours before all this flooding happened, someone set off the silent alarms. Unauthorized access to both the Inkwell and SolAARium.”
“Okay, and what did you say about a missing employee?”
Meanwhile, Blake and Marisol went behind the counter. He asked a few of the staff if they could tell him where “Erin Bowie” was… but no one knew the answer. Then he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. No answer, the call went directly to voicemail.
Blake turned to Marisol.
“Have you ever worked an hourly job?” Blake asked.
“Sure, when I was younger I had a gig at the hotel where Mariposa works now.” Marisol said. “You need me to check the timecards? Who are we looking for?”
“You’re quick. That’s awesome.” Blake said with a smile.
He reached up to punch clock and took down a large envelope of time cards from the wall next to it. He split the stack in half and gave one half to Marisol. (Aisling curled up around Marisol’s neck and shoulders like a fluffy scarf)
“We’re looking for a girl named ‘Erin Bowie.’ She’s not supposed to be here.” Blake explained. “When things popped off, I told her to hide, but it looks like she might have come back here at some point.”
At that moment, Cali slammed her fist on the bar top, causing Marisol and Blake to jump.
“ANOTHER ONE!? HOW MANY CREATIONS DID YOU BRING INTO THE REAL WORLD!?” Cali screamed at Blake. “What book is Erin from and when the hell did you bring her here!?”
Blake raised his hands.
“In my defense, Erin was the first one ever to cross over… and she was never meant to be more than an Easter Egg. Things have kinda spiraled out of control since then.”
One of the SWAT operators tapped Cali’s shoulder and pointed to a nearby patron: an American man who was mourning the watery destruction of his lecture notes and complaining about how he was going to be late for an appointment in the SolAARium.
“That guy has seen her. Just a few days ago, actually.” The operator said.
Blake glanced in the direction the man was pointing and then called out:
“Chac! You saw Erin? Where? When?”
Just before Blake started to walk away, he leaned in close to Marisol and whispered:
“Inkwell. Check to see if anyone’s messed with my stuff. Yours as well.”
Marisol knew what the Inkwell was, but had never gone there. She knew Blake was mistaken in his belief that she had an entry here, but there was no time to correct him. Instead, Blake went off to speak to the patron known as Chac and Marisol moved across the bAAR to the Inkwell, where an old man was muttering angrily to himself about having to repair and reorganize the Inkwell.
Sloshing through half an inch of standing water, Marisol allowed Aisling to jump onto one of the bookshelves. The cat peered around in all directions, its eyes wide.
“I bet you’ve never seen so many books before, huh?” Marisol said to Aisling. “It’s okay… I know what we’re looking for.”
Marisol ran her fingers along the shelves. She had been a fan of Blake’s for about a year before becoming his Beta Reader. She had not memorized the titles of all his works, but she knew most of them and quickly spotted Blake’s entry in the Inkwell. She tapped each of Blake’s previous books, reading their names aloud:
“After Everything, Faith in Chaos, DosiAARs, My Sistership, Childhood Memory, The Stormbreakers, Legend of Whetu Kealoha, Crossroads of Past and Future… uh… what?”
Marisol paused. Something was not right.
She counted the books. Then counted them again. She tried to recite the names of Blake’s books from memory, then looked again.
A moment later, Marisol was running back toward Blake, panting from the rising fear in her throat.
“Blake!” She gasped.
Blake turned away from Chac, who saw the look of alarm on Marisol’s face and instinctively took a step back.
“Two of your books are gone from the Inkwell!” Marisol said. “My Father’s War and Finding Love Under the Winter Star!”
… Akira Robinson
Creation
The SolAARium, Paradox Interactive Forums
Whetu and Akira paced in the shadows, listening to Akira’s cell phone as Tenna delivered her report.
“I can’t explain how, but whatever Psionic technique Malum used to… awaken us to the truth… it just didn’t work on Kailani. Probably because she was already insane.”
“What about Varian and Mina?” Akira replied in a soft voice. “Have they really turned?”
“Mina? Definitely not. She’s probably being held prisoner.” Tenna replied. “Varian though? Come on… you were there when he or she or whatever they are got pulled out of the Gate. Varian’s got a strong natural resistance to Psionics.”
“Willpower.” Akira corrected her. “We call it willpower in my world.”
“Whatever.” Tenna replied. “Look, Varian’s definitely trying to shake it off. Not sure if they managed to do it, but they’re trying. Tell Malum the next Creation he pulls better be a pushover, cause this one was hell.”
Akira said:
“Fine then. I’ve got someone in mind anyway… someone who might incense the rest of Blake’s little group and turn them against him. Maybe even provoke one of them into doing the job for us…”
Akira shut off her radio and turned to Whetu.
“We’re going. Quiet exit out the front, then we’ll go back to the Gate from Stockholm.”
Using their Psionic abilities to slip past a few people in the hallowed halls of the SolAARium, Akira and Whetu began moving toward the front entrance. All of their research and planning and preparation told them that Paradox Headquarters was on the other side of the street from the SolAARium. All they had to do was step through the front doors and the two women would be on the streets of Stockholm.
Just when Akira and Whetu were fifteen feet away from the tall set of double-doors, a shrill robotic voice declared for all to hear:
“Naked girl.”
A sudden, painful silence fell over the SolAARium. Akira and Whetu froze in place, then slowly turned their heads to look around.
The LEGO robot Asimov was rolling through the hall on its little plastic wheels, turning its head to keep one of its sensors aimed directly at Whetu.
“That robot can see you.” Akira hissed.
Out of shock and surprise, both Whetu and Akira broke focus for just a moment, and that was all it took.
Akira’s Psionic disguise fell away.
Whetu became visible to everyone else.
Up and down the hallway, almost fifty men and women paused in their activities to stare. Akira could sense dozens of people staring at Whetu upon realizing she was not fully covered up. Mentally, Akira added this terrible character design to the list of reasons she wanted to kill the author.
A member of Paradox staff was the first to recover from the shock. He raised one shaking hand, pointed at Whetu and shouted:
“Nudity outside of the CK3 AAR forum! Are we blind!? DEPLOY THE MODERATORS!”
“RUN!” Akira screamed. “I’ll get the Return Beacon!”
She and Whetu took off at a dead sprint, making for the double doors. Whetu put one hand out and sent a pulse of Telekinetic energy ahead of her. The double doors crashed open. Whetu and Akira were hit by a blast of cold air, and then they were out.
…
A low cloud ceiling obscured the nearby skyscrapers while the CN Tower lit up with brilliant purple and blue colors. A chill wind swept across the city, bringing the smell of Lake Ontario with it.
Akira was the first one to figure out what was wrong.
“This is not Stockholm!” Akira cursed. “FUCK! This isn’t Stockholm!”
“They’re coming!” Whetu yelled.
Several men were emerging from the SolAARium doors. Whetu put both of her hands to her head and then projected a telepathic attack toward one of them. Instantly, the poor soul began to have a panic attack as his mind was filled with the most nightmarish and traumatizing of images. He fell to his knees, convulsing and hyperventilating. This was enough to distract the others. As they stopped to offer help, Whetu turned to her companion.
Akira had opened her coat and withdrawn a small technological device, shaped like the handle, magazine well, and stock of a rifle. Whetu grabbed onto Akira.
“And you’re sure this wouldn’t have worked inside that building?”
“Very sure.” Akira replied. “But out here? We should be just fine.”
Akira pulled the trigger on the Return Beacon.
In the book Akira comes from, the Return Beacon should have behaved a highly specific way… but things were different now.
A swirling Vortex Portal opened up in front of Akira and Whetu, looking very similar to a Wormhole from Stellaris. It lurched backwards and swallowed both women completely.
Once Akira and Whetu were gone, the Vortex Portal shrank and dissipated away to nothing.
Announcement! As requested by a small number of readers/viewers, the first video version of The Broken Gates is now live. Video counterparts will be slowly added to previous chapters. Posting of new chapters will noticeably slow down while the video side of things plays catchup.
Episode 11: This is far worse than any nightmare scenario we planned for.===>
The Broken Gates
Episode Ten: This may sound weird, but I've always been certain this would happen. Akira Robinson
Creation
Wayne County, Michigan
Meanwhile, something was happening in Belle Isle Park, an island in the Detroit River mere feet away from the US/Canada border. While city officials combed the conservatory and aquarium for survivors of the recent flood, a Vortex Portal opened up and deposited two women in front of the Dossin Great Lakes Museum.
Akira Robinson turned around to watch as her companion regained her footing. This new person was a young woman slightly taller than Akira. She had messy blue hair and wore an ankle-length red dress. As she stepped out of the Vortex Portal, the woman peered around the island, her face full of wonder and awe.
This was Emily, and she had just been pulled out of a very obscure story by Macavity116. She spotted the Detroit city skyline, fully illuminated in the darkness of night, and stood transfixed.
“Incredible.” Emily breathed. “I’ve lived my whole life in Pelican Town, but I’ve dreamed about seeing a big city like this.”
Emily stepped clear of the Vortex Portal, but it did not close. Someone on the other side was holding it open.
“It’s just as I said.” Akira replied. “This is the world of the gods, and home of the god who created you and your world.”
“And I can just go see him?” Emily asked. “It’s really okay?”
“I insist.” Akira replied. “In fact, I encourage you to see him. Look there, across the river. Do you see that building the firefighters are next to? The one with the word “scientology” painted on the sign. Walk to that building and turn right at the intersection. Stay on the right side of the road and go past the big square with the fountains and statues. On the other side of the park, you’ll see a brick building called Whiskey in the jAAR. Knock on the door and ask for Blake.”
Emily froze. The color went out of her face.
“Wait a minute…” Emily said, her breathing shallow and rapid. “Blake… as in… Blake Robinson? The Blake I know?”
“Yes.” Akira replied, a smile creeping across her face. “That Blake. One and the same.”
Emily looked back to her destination. She whispered, more to herself than to Akira:
“This may sound weird, but I've always been certain this would happen.”
“It’s what you’ve dreamed about… isn’t it?” Akira said. “Don’t waste this opportunity I’ve given you. Go. Find him. Find the man who is your lover and creator all in one.”
Akira stepped backwards through the Vortex Portal and it closed, leaving Emily shivering and alone on Belle Isle.
…
Meanwhile, the consequences for Akira’s unilateral action came quickly. As soon as she rematerialized inside the ring section of the Broken Gate, two angry voices confronted her.
“I told Malum what you did. He’s pissed.”
“You can’t go off and do things on your own like that! You’re throwing off everything Malum planned!”
These two people were also characters taken from Blake’s stories. Whetu Kealoha was still looking shaken from her experience in the SolAARium, but next to her, another woman looked full of resolve.
Whetu’s companion was Cassandra Espinosa, a twenty-one-year-old woman taken from A Coldwar Affair. Cassandra had vivid green eyes that seemed to give off a faint glow, making her stand out in any surrounding. Like Whetu, she wore an outfit that left little to the imagination, but in a far different way from grass skirts:
Cassandra’s whole body, except for her head and neck, was covered in what appeared to be a skintight bodysuit. One needed to look closer to realize Cassandra was actually wearing Nanite Armor, a protective layer composed of several trillion microscopic nanomachines acting in concert, all under the control of a cybernetic implant in Cassandra’s brain.
When she confronted Akira, Cassandra folded her arms and her Nanite Armor rippled dangerously.
“Malum said we can’t send more Creations into the real world without going through him first.” Cassandra said. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Mom.”
In any other circumstance, a 21-year-old calling a 19-year-old “Mom” would be met with some measure of skepticism, or perhaps alarm. But Akira and Cassandra had already been warned about this detail when they first joined Malum’s team:
An older version of Akira (who was not pulled into this series of events) had mothered three children, of which Cassandra was the middle child. This detail was supposed to be a surprising plot twist in a story called The Last Heroes, but right now… it was a minor detail that both Akira and Cassandra found inconvenient.
“Well, it’s already done.” Akira said. “And I’m positive Emily will cause Blake’s new ‘team’ to break up and start fighting each other. It’s all to our benefit in the end.”
Whetu pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.
“You’re missing the point.” Whetu said. “You’re not the protagonist anymore, Malum is. He makes the decisions. If you really love him, you wouldn’t go over his head like this!”
Akira bristled. Cassandra noticed.
“Ugh… not again. How many times do we have to do this, mom? Follow me.”
Cassandra led Akira away from the Broken Gate. The ring-shaped structure was located in the bottommost section of a derelict starship, left abandoned for hundreds of years. Archeologists and treasure hunters had recently excavated the upper decks, but no one had gotten this far underground yet. No one aside from Malum’s team, anyway.
Cassandra brought Akira to a doorway near the bow and wrapped her knuckles on the door.
“Enter.” A booming voice commanded.
“Here we go. Third time’s the charm, right?” Cassandra said. Then she pushed the door open.
The ship’s galley had been converted into something resembling a Medieval European Royal Court. Two thrones, one large and one slightly smaller, stood on an elevated platform at the far end of the room. Various relics and trinkets were put on display throughout the room, while two long tables were set with dishes and silverware, as though a feast would be served soon. The smell of freshly-cooked meat and vegetables wafted through a door to Akira’s right.
The Court was busy. Dozens of aliens milled about, talking and arguing and debating. Akira and Cassandra bypassed them all, walking directly toward the thrones instead.
Malum Ralpakin was seated in his throne, while the smaller one was vacant. The villain also known as the Great Khan was a giant of a man with blue skin, pointed ears, and bright yellow eyes. The left side of his body was covered in gruesome-looking scars, a reminder of the battle Malum fought against his own son during the final chapter of Song of the Solitaire, the story from which he originated.
Malum did not see Akira and Cassandra approach. He was locked in deep conversation with one of his concubines. The alien woman looked as though she was enraptured by Malum’s every word. Akira took the opportunity to study the alien woman’s face, trying to identify her species.
Assurian. Akira said to herself. Does that mean he finally got access to my world? Or is he still sending lackeys through the Gate?
Malum Ralpakin told the concubine to go away, and she scampered out of sight. Then he turned to look at Akira.
“Again you’ve closed off your mind to me, Akira.” Malum said. “What a selfish lover you are.”
His tone was light, as though teasing her, but Akira could sense a deep rumbling anger within him. Both villains were emitting powerful fields of Psionic energy that buffeted one another in silent conflict.
“It’s a force of habit.” Akira said. “After the Instrument of Desire, I find it hard to open my heart to anyone… let alone my mind.”
Akira was referencing a particularly infamous moment in her backstory, where the hated author had strongly implied she got intimate with a Lovecraftian nightmare monster.
Malum narrowed his eyes.
“That won’t do at all, my dear.” He said. “I’ve known you now many weeks. I see that you become stronger, more focused, and wiser when you are open about your love for me. When you close yourself off, you become so frustratingly independent that you drag down those around you and impede the progress of my plans. Allow me to restore what you’ve somehow managed to lose…”
Akira could feel it coming. A wave of telepathic energy seeping into every crevice of her mind. Just before she was overwhelmed, Akira felt a last second pulse of joy.
I was right. Akira told herself. Willpower from my world and Psionic Resistance from his world are not the same thing. I can fight this off again. I can take control.
Filled with newfound resolve, Akira quickly purged her own mind of rebellious thoughts, making certain her head was empty before Malum regained control.
…
“Now, Akira, my dear.” Malum said. “Don’t you see how angry I get when you go behind my back?”
Akira bowed her head.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry sir.” Akira replied in a demure tone of voice. “I thought I could do things my way and get a better result. I was wrong. I’m so deeply sorry.”
Akira was feeling very hot. She fidgeted uncomfortably, still looking at the floor. She also felt terrible. How could she earn Malum’s love if she kept striking out on her own like this? She wanted to hit herself for being so stupid.
A tiny voice spoke in the back of Akira’s head, but she ignored it.
“Cassandra, my dear.” Malum said, speaking over the top of Akira’s head. “That Emily character is a wildcard I will not tolerate. Go get her and put her back in her world now. If she resists, kill her.”
Cassandra nodded.
“As you wish.”
Cassandra turned to leave, taking her eyes off Malum with the most extreme reluctance. The Great Khan stood up from his throne and directed his voice toward one of the courtiers.
“Carry on without me for a few minutes. I must take this one to give her forgiveness.”
Akira felt an eruption of happiness deep in her soul as Malum grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her in the direction of the harem chamber.
“Give me those two books in your coat pocket.” Malum suddenly ordered.
Without hesitation, Akira opened her coat and retrieved the two books she had stolen from the Inkwell: My Father’s War and Finding Love Under the Winter Star.
“The only books in which our author made himself the main protagonist… hmm… how curious.” Malum said as he examined each book. Then he put one hand on Akira’s shoulder and pushed him forward.
Just before they left the Khan’s Court, one of the other concubines looked at Akira and flashed a friendly hand signal.
As she was pushed out of the room, Akira did a double-take.
The concubine who waved at her was Kotori Sato… a character from My Father’s War. Kotori was having a conversation with Thomas Hutch, another character from the same story… one who was best known for being the puppet ruler of a collaborationist government.
… Marisol
Creator
Wayne County, Michigan
Marisol was pacing the length of Apartment 229, agitated. She had told Cali’s team several times that she could not stay. She needed to get home, and that Asiana had sent someone to collect her. But this had only resulted in Marisol being confined to the same space as the female Creations.
Kanti Divakar, the albino peahen, was similarly disturbed. She too was pacing, stalking up and down the headrest of a couch in the living room. Mina had to lean forward to avoid being hit by Kanti’s tail feathers. Sebakhira watched Marisol for a few moments, then asked:
“Why do you worry so much about going home quickly? Your family strikes me as being very resilient in the face of hardship.”
“Holy shit, Blake was right about the mind-reading.” Marisol breathed. “That’s really off-putting, you know.”
“Apologies.” Sebakhira growled. “Your mother and siblings exist in the forefront of your mind. You worry about them.”
“I bring home the most money.” Marisol said. “I can’t afford to not work, and getting left behind can end my career really fast.”
“She’s not like us.” Mina said from the couch. “For us, all of our duties and obligations and responsibilities get put on hold when the author decides to send us on a vacation. All of life gets told to wait its turn.”
“I uh… never thought of it that way.” Marisol confessed.
“I never had a monthly cycle for the whole run of my story.” Mina went on. “Hit me like a truck when it happened after Malum pulled me through the Gate.”
“So, did Malum pull all of you through the Broken Gate before sending you here?” Marisol asked.
She remembered helping Blake finalize the concept of The Broken Gates when he was writing his latest story. They were supposed to be a system for interdimensional travel… but this was now the third or fourth time Marisol had noticed a Creation making reference to them, suggesting Malum had found a way to hijack the Broken Gates.
Kanti nodded.
“Malum… huge blue-skinned Humanoid… pulled Akira Robinson out of her story first, and then she took over the duties of pulling everyone else. She’s somewhat rebellious, though. As you can see by just looking around, her efforts to recruit people to Malum’s cause don’t always work out. I don’t know why… but Malum either can’t or won’t go through the Gate himself.”
“He used Psionics to bewitch us.” Sebakhira added. “I do not know how to describe it… it is not a technique from my world… but we all started to feel a powerful love for Malum. Different types for different people. Some of us loved him as a father or brother. Some of us felt a more platonic love. I know a few experienced romantic love for Malum… and I think there’s a couple who are in unconditional love, as though he were an object of worship.”
“And you don’t feel any of that?” Mina spat from the couch. “That’s what’s wrong with you.”
Sebakhira peered around the room.
“I have noticed that some of us were able to shake off the Psionic effects… though I do not know how or why just yet.
Kanti looked very annoyed, and Marisol understood why.
“Hey Kanti… in your book – uh… I mean, in your world… didn’t you have a Psionic power that has to do with love?”
“I do.” Kanti replied, ruffling her feathers. “I’m oversimplifying to make things easy for your untrained mind… but I can telepathically force someone to fall in love with me. From what I witnessed, Malum’s ability is far more developed and nuanced than mine. It’s embarrassing.”
Marisol shuddered. Both Sebakhira and Kanti recoiled. They were able to see a series of dark thoughts passing through Marisol’s mind.
“Sorry.” Marisol said. “Just some stuff from my past. Forced love… or love for price… that’s not love at all. At least it’s that way it is for me.”
There was a scratching sound at the apartment door. Kanti fluttered across the room and opened it with Telekinesis.
A fluffy white cat with red eyes entered the room and sat down in the kitchen. It took a moment to lick its paws and wipe its face, then shapeshifted into a human girl.
“Cali’s going to come up and get us in a few minutes.” Aisling said. “A bunch of people just showed up in the tavern downstairs. She says they’re her ‘Committee’ or something like that.”
