94 - Piranesi
GraftingBuddha
Retired Pooh-Bah
94 - Piranesi
Taylor awoke with a jolt. The others hadn't moved. The room was dark, and the only sound was tense breathing in the dusty gloom. She glanced around surreptitiously - had they seen anything? Had they heard anything? No-one seemed to react to her suddenly coming to, so… evidently not. Good. She shook her head, clearing away the last few memories lingering around the edges of her mind - a tree with three branches, a kneeling body, a man with a ball of fire instead of a head. She cleared her throat, and the others looked her way sharply. They all looked shaken, and Taylor couldn't help but notice the sharp pits of fresh, white wood where Sanagi's fingernails had dug deep into the axe handle. She stood, leaning against the wall to steady herself.
"...let's keep moving. We should be able to get to the church."
The others nodded. Taylor walked to the door, pushed it open gingerly, and stepped into the house beyond. It was dark, darker than it should be. A small shard of hope blossomed in her chest - had the sky gone back to normal? Would they step outside to see no burning stars, no trailing ribbons? Maybe that light was almost an on-off switch - flash the sky is on fire and the town goes on forever, flash the sky is normal and the church is right around the corner, presumably next to a giant pile of guns they could readily exploit, and a big old book which calmly and scientifically laid out who and what Bisha was, and how to completely defeat him. She imagined something involving buckets of icy water. The others followed her, and Mouse Protector dug around in her utility belt for a small but powerful flashlight - she thanked her lucky stars for buying this damn utility belt. Used up a good chunk of Crimson's bounty, but she couldn't count the number of times it'd saved her bacon. Plus, it had a big old mouse logo on the front, which was just wizard. They moved through the house, finding the front door as soon as they could. Their steps were hesitant, each one raising puffs of dust from the floor. The windows were still shuttered, blocking any view of the outside. Taylor slowly, cautiously pushed the door open, insects slowly filtering back into her perception. She blinked. Something was wrong.
Beyond the door was another room. Not identical to their own, not remotely, but still… a room. And connected to it were more doors, presumably leading to more rooms. Her swarm fanned out, filtering through. More empty rooms connected to more and more rooms. Some of them had windows… looking out to nothing but dull brown rooms with wooden walls swollen with damp, almost breathing in the still air. The others reacted in… various ways. Sanagi gritted her teeth, hefted her axe and strode forward. Arch took a quick snifter from his hipflask and followed, his chain clinking quietly at his side. Mouse Protector gave a deep sigh, and leant briefly against the doorframe. She gave Taylor an appraising look.
"What now?"
"We keep moving."
The cape unsheathed her sword, holding it loosely.
"Sounds good to me."
Taylor blinked. That was remarkably restrained of her. She expected some snarky comment, some little naive outburst from someone incapable of comprehending what was happening to them, or some moronic little-
"Sounds very gouda indeed. Positively brie-lliant."
She wheezed, slapping her knee loudly, before striding off with a distinctly more jaunty air about her. Taylor sighed. Some things never changed, apparently. Still, there were only so many cheese and mouse puns a person could make. They'd have to run out of them sometime. She walked off into the endless house.
It had been hours. With no sunlight, hours became unmeasurable. Their watches had served a purpose for a time, but all it took was a few of them to become forgetful, and they forgot when they had entered… and Taylor suspected that time was screwy enough in here that their watches were useless anyhow. The house was endless, room after room after room, each one similar but not identical, each one covered in dust and reeking of pulpy, sagging wood. There were no people. She wondered why she was calling it a house at all - there were no people here, and no-one could ever live in a place like this, a place with no corridors but endless rooms. It was strange, to be surrounded by rooms that went on forever - a bizarre blend of claustrophobia and agoraphobia. At one point she glanced through a cloudy window to see another cloudy window beyond it, and a cloudy window beyond even that, stretching forward as far as the eye could see. And in those windows, nothing but empty rooms. Their only light was Mouse Protector's flashlight - it charged itself by the simple action of them moving, and they had no inclination to waste their limited batteries on additional light. No matter how comforting it might have been. The silence was deafening.
They were in a labyrinth. Her limbs ached, and her scarred hands itched for a piece of thread, anything to follow, anything to guide them back to where they had started. Maybe they should have never left that tiny room, maybe they should have remained there until the next flash… if there even would be another flash. Maybe this was it - a space extended into infinity by coiling flames, a pocket of unreality where they would slowly succumb to exhaustion. A memory came to her then, one of her mother lecturing on some obscure point. Taylor had been interested in Greek mythology for a time - as one naturally does - and her mother had pointed out an interesting point on the labyrinth of Crete. She talked about the maze-like palaces of Crete, the double-axe, the kingeater, the dancing bulls… and she had talked about the ambiguity of the term 'labyrinth'. A true labyrinth, she said, was not a maze. A labyrinth confused, it bewildered, but it always guided its captive along a proper path to the centre. Christian theologians had enjoyed the symbol for exactly that reason - a long, difficult path with nonetheless a correct ending. A maze, though, had many options, many opportunities to get lost. Annette had smiled grimly at one point.
"...but, the place where the Minotaur was kept could be called a labyrinth, I suppose. There was an ending, a point where anyone trapped inside would always arrive at, sooner or later."
She'd blinked confusedly.
"The minotaur. No matter how lost you were, the 'centre' of the labyrinth was always pursuing you. Like it or not, you'd always find the centre. Or, rather, it'd find you."
That had been the last time she'd really been interested in Greek mythology. A short, barely remembered nightmare of wandering in an endless maze, the subject of that maze silently stalking her, had been a potent disincentive to get more involved. And now here she was. Was this a maze? Or was it a labyrinth? Was there a centre, and was there a minotaur? Was there no point to this construction, just an endless structure without form or purpose, leading into eternity for no conceivable reason? How long had they been walking? She looked up, seeing the sagging ceiling of pulpy wood, breathing down on her. Were there more rooms above them, more endless constructions piled on top of each other? She felt nothing through her swarm… and she didn't know if she wanted to. Two dimensions were bad enough, she had no desire to introduce a third to this endless place.
Hours later, they were all exhausted, thirsty, hungry. Taylor reluctantly called for a stop. They sat down around a rotting dinner table - there weren't enough chairs, so they took some from adjoining rooms to make up the set. Taylor briefly wondered if anyone else would ever wander through here, and if they did, what they'd make of this scene. One room with fewer chairs than normal, one room with too many. Would they briefly hope there was someone else? In a fit of pique, she borrowed Arch's knife and used it to carve a small message into the table.
Good luck.
The others didn't react. Taylor looked down at the pulpy wood, the way it sagged and sighed, and wondered if her message would linger, or if the wood would just… ooze back into place. Would the dust they had disturbed with their passing resettle, leaving no trace they had ever walked past? Would some invisible custodian, perhaps the minotaur she had dreamt of as a child, walk in and return the chairs to their proper position? She was asking herself too many questions… but questions were all she had. If she stopped asking questions, she'd realise very quickly that she had no answers. They were walking into nowhere, and she had no idea if there even was an exit for them to find. Maybe this was how everyone in this town had gone. Walk through the house for eternity, go mad, plunge into the depths of despair which Bisha seemed to relish inducing, if the experience at the pier had been any clue, and then emerge into the outside world ready to char and melt into a perfect statue, praying to the flaming sky and the shining church. The others sat around the table, too exhausted to drum their hands or tap their heels restlessly. Taylor looked around. They looked awful. Covered in dust, bags under their eyes, a frantic, hungry look about all of them. Even Mouse Protector looked subdued. She briefly imagined them succumbing to despair, madness, invoking the flame almost by accident. She coughed.
"...if we're resting here, might as well entertain ourselves. Sorry about my answers to two truths and a lie earlier, they were… boring. Mind if I try again?"
Mouse Protector gave her a hopeful look, and a small smile almost poked through her facemask. She leant back in her decaying chair. She gestured for Taylor to go ahead.
"OK. I saw a tree eat a town. I stared Lung into submission. There's a Japanese nun inside my head."
MP tapped her chin.
"That's actually difficult. You know what… I'll say the Japanese nun thing isn't true."
Taylor mutely shook her head.
"Damn, really? Wait, what kind of nun, like, full penguin-suit nun, or orange robes nun?"
"The latter."
"Shucks. That's pretty funky. So, which one was the lie?"
"The Lung one. I did once stare at him, and he didn't kill me, which was pretty sweet. He was full-on dragon too."
Arch perked up, raising his hipflask.
"Oh, you mentioned this at lunch with Jochi. Do the stare, it's really freaky."
She did the stare. Sanagi nodded approvingly, and the cape almost flinched.
"Holy moly, that's… quite somethin'!"
"Thanks. Funnily enough, the whole 'staring down Lung' thing occurred right before the Japanese nun got all comfortable in my grey matter. Well, her memories did at least."
They settled into a more comfortable silence. Arch shrugged.
"I never actually took my turn earlier, so… I once did snuff with a Spanish aristocrat, I was attacked by an eagle once, and I was once homeless for six months."
Sanagi squinted, thinking.
"You weren't attacked by an eagle. The Spanish aristocrat one sounds too specific to be a lie, and I can imagine you being homeless for six months."
He grinned.
"Nope. I was homeless for three months. World of difference."
Taylor leant forward, interested.
"You were attacked by an eagle?"
"Indeed I was. I was up in the Alps doing some fun stuff with some buddies - skiing, drinking, and acid mostly - and looked up to see a tiny dark shape. Then it was larger, then larger still, and the next thing I know a golden eagle is trying to claw my face off."
"What'd you do?"
"Punched it in its smug beaky face is what I did, knocked that son-of-a-bitch right out. Face was a mess though."
He gestured - and Taylor could believe she'd never noticed the very faint scars on his face. They were almost invisible on his pale, completely un-tanned skin (a sad consequence of British weather, she assumed), and formed a strange lattice stretching from ear to ear. It was a miracle he hadn't lost his eye. Mouse Protector, though, was focused on something else.
"Spanish aristocrat? And what's snuff - I mean, I've heard of snuff films, but I'm assuming you wouldn't admit to that around a good, law-abiding cheesemonger such as myself."
"Sniffing tobacco. Used to be more popular, then people realised cigarettes are way more sexy. Makes you sneeze like hell, but when a Spanish aristocrat who studied zoology and spent a year writing about homosexual ducks offers you snuff, you damn well take it is what you do."
Speaking of cigarettes, he pulled out his packet and offered them around. Mouse Protector took one automatically, before realising she had a facemask on. With a grunt, she started to pull it down, and the others froze.
"You're just going to unmask yourself?"
The cape paused.
"...well, if we're going to die here, I'd prefer to have a quick smoke over preserving my secret identity. Also, with all this dust, this thing has been choking me for hours. Need some air."
Taylor shrugged.
"Fair enough. I mean, you know my identity."
MP smiled widely.
"Exactly. It's only fair."
She removed the mask, and beneath it was… well, Taylor had expected a mousy woman, if only to keep with her general theme. If not mousy, then her face should at least be impish and sly. To her disappointment, Mouse Protector looked completely ordinary. Tired, sure, but her face was wide and homely. It was a little uncanny to hear that same shit-stirring voice come out of a face which would was so completely ordinary. But what really attracted her attention was the jagged, curling red scar which lay, like a languid pink slug, on her jaw and slipping upwards to almost split her lower lip.
"No need to fall over yourselves with the compliments."
Sanagi tilted her head to one side.
"What's with the scar?"
MP paused, puffing on her cigarette. The feeling of the smoke was damn euphoric for her - she might not be a Protectorate hero anymore, but some habits die hard. She'd committed herself to being approachable and friendly, and having a voice crackly as an old gramophone record wouldn't exactly contribute to that image. The last time she'd had a proper smoke was after fighting Crimson. Speaking of whom:
"Crimson. Well, not him, but… the other guy. Jack Slash. Happened right after. Didn't want me forgetting that night, wanted me to be reminded of it every time I looked in a mirror."
Sanagi leant forwards over the table, eyes bright.
"What's he like? Jack Slash, I mean."
"...hard to describe."
She stopped talking. She really didn't want to talk about that man. Even saying his name was bringing back memories of his bright razor, of his overwhelming charisma, of the way the other members of the Slaughterhouse seemed to stay a good distance from him - terrified, she thought, though she knew if she had raised that particular theory she'd have been ripped to pieces in a second. She'd started her frequent moves around the country shortly after that encounter - never staying in one place for too long, always on the road. You never recover from finding Crimson's stuffed and mounted head in your postbox, with a friendly note congratulating you on a good fight. She shook her head a little, clearing the thoughts away.
"Enough about me. So, Sanagi-of-the-missing-ear, why don't you have a go?"
Sanagi stiffened.
"I'd rather not."
"C'mon, everyone else has. Got real personal, too."
She sighed. Taylor shot the cape a look - a tiny warning not to screw up like she had in the car. The last thing they needed was infighting in this damn house.
"Fine. I'm a cop. I'm a radical libertarian. I…"
MP booed loudly. The itch was overwhelming.
"C'mon, that's so boring - give us some meat!"
Sanagi gritted her teeth.
"Fine. You want two truths and a lie? I was stabbed in the throat by an alien. I once said 'fuck you' to Lung. And I'm a radical libertarian."
MP blinked.
"...I'm guessing you're not a radical libertarian."
"Bingo."
"Man, you people should just stay away from Lung - one of you stares at him at close range, and one of you swears at him."
"Well, he did make me chop off my finger to prove a point."
"Damn. That's rough, buddy."
"It was."
They fell into silence after that, throats dry and stomachs rumbling, content to sit back and rest their weary feet, and in Arch and Mouse Protector's case, to smoke like furnaces. Finally, they all felt ready to stand once again and get back to moving. Doors were opened, rooms were explored, and bit by bit the exhaustion they'd tried to dispel returned with a vengeance. Taylor was tense. If there was going to be another flash, it'd probably be soon. More doors faced them, and Taylor hesitantly pushed one open.
Someone stared back.
She jerked backwards in fright, and the others crowded round to see what had startled her so. The door led to a long, long corridor - the first they'd seen - and at the end of the corridor was a tiny rectangle of light. A tiny room with a crackling fire in the centre. And standing in that doorway was a tall, bulky figure. Behind it were stood three more. They slowly began to walk down the corridor. Taylor cried out:
"Stay back! Tell us who you are!"
The figures barely paused, continuing their slow, steady march. She readied her swarm to attack. If these things were the minotaur she'd feared… well, she'd see how they fared against a swarm of biting, distracting insects. Then, a voice cried back - one that was paradoxically high, and yet had a rumbling undercurrent behind it.
"Stay back! Tell us who you are!"
Taylor paled. Something unnatural was going on. She sent her swarm out… and it froze. Insects twitched in mid-air, flitting one direction then another, one moment charging towards the approaching figures and the next moment shivering in mid-air and charging backwards, stingers glistening in the dim light from the end of the corridor. A bead of cold sweat ran down her face as she tried to focus, tried to reassert control of the swarm. The figures approached, and finally came into the torchlight. A familiar face stared at Taylor, blinked, then grinned. The smile was red, the teeth soaked with blood. The face was familiar - one eye concealed behind an eyepatch, the other cold as ice, a narrow face with a wide mouth and tumbling curls streaming behind it. But there were bulges in the face, and the frame was completely wrong - and as the figure came closer, Taylor could see why. The other Taylor had more than two arms - she had many, taken from a whole host of people, branching away from her back and wrapping around her original arms to give them bulk and strength they otherwise lacked. The other figures were coming into the light, and each one was the same mix of familiar and foreign. A Japanese woman with one ear, and a bloody axe clutched in her hands… but with black, chittering pincers emerging from her grim mouth. A wide man in a filthy Hawaiian shirt, streaked with blood and dust, but his teeth were filed to razor-sharp points, and his face was invisible beneath a mass of shining scars. All that could be seen were a pair of coal-black eyes, hungry and vicious. And trailing behind was a woman in battered, rusting armour, a half-ruined sword hanging from her shaking hands.
Taylor screamed 'run!' and run they did, their doubles pursuing them, the Other Taylor likewise bellowing 'run!' in her high-deep voice. The house stretched before them into an interminable distance, and they ran as fast as they could, fleeing from the shambling, bloodied doubles which had somehow, impossibly, been generated. The Other Taylor was fast, her many arms clutching the floor and dragging her along at an unnatural pace, with a staggering, unsteady gait. The Other Mouse Protector flung a piece of rotten fruit in their direction, and with a 'pop', she was suddenly much too close for comfort. She had no mask, and no helmet - and Taylor could see a livid pink scar running across her scalp, as though her skull had been split open and then had been soldered shut messily. She was muttering, too, in a low, angry voice completely at odds with the outspoken and cheerful cape that Taylor was finding herself begrudgingly becoming fond of.
"Let us out, let us out, let us out…"
Taylor gritted her teeth and ran onwards… and a great dark mass flung itself overhead, crashing down just in front of her. The Other Taylor unfurled herself, revealing dozens of arms that made her seem truly enormous. She blocked the path ahead, and her companions blocked the path behind. Mouse Protector, showing a great deal of initiative, flung a tiny coin towards the door, teleporting to it and slamming the door shut, barring it with a chair. It wasn't much, but it would stop the others from getting in… for now, at least. The Other Taylor reared up, her many arms and many legs twitching eagerly. Her bloodstained smile was unnaturally wide, and her cold eye nonetheless burned with an inner madness. Up close, she looked… awful. Pale skin wrapped too tightly around malformed bones, hair matted and filthy, teeth chipped and stained, clothes torn and ragged. Taylor tried to rally her swarm, but it continued to jitter and shiver, uncertain of who to obey. The Other Taylor leaned close, her body descending and her many arms supporting her as she went.
"Hello, me."
There was the sound of an axe striking the sealed door. Taylor managed to speak, her heart in her throat.
"What are you?"
"Better than you."
And the Other Taylor attacked, arms flailing wildly, striking anything in her path. She fought chaotically, as if she barely had any command of her limbs. Taylor tried to protect herself, but one arm ripped her defences away while another struck her viciously in the face. She could feel blood filling her mouth, streaming down her throat. Idly, she remembered something, a grim fact Turk had once told her. You could swallow a litre of blood before needing to throw up. Even if she didn't want to vomit, she could still feel her teeth turning red as fresh liver. Her fellows descended, brandishing their own weapons. Mouse Protector's sword sliced through through limbs, sending them scattering to the ground like loose branches, still twitching erratically as they fell. Sanagi did much the same, her axe felling fleshy branch after fleshy branch. The Other Taylor howled animalistically, no human words passing those lips, and as she moved Taylor saw small heads bulging from her back, their mouths parting and whispering a repetitive, maddening mantra.
"We cannot get out, we cannot get out, we cannot get out."
The door split, and a shining axe forced its way through. The Other Sanagi poked her head through, black pincers clicking angrily, eyes searching wildly for prey. It wouldn't take her long to break through now, not once she could force her arm through and remove the chair. The Other Taylor was at least wounded, and with the monster distracted Taylor could begin to muster an attack. She jumped forward, shining palms at the ready, and grabbed onto the Other Taylor's face, holding on for dear life. The monster roared, thrashing around wildly, and Taylor slapped her monstrous self in the face, her too-powerful palms tearing the skin and almost cracking bone. Flesh parted like paper, far easier than it really should have, and a boiling yellow liquid spilled out, scalding the parts of her hands which yet remained unscarred. The monster tried to reach around, tried to pick Taylor off its face… and it stopped. Arch was on its back, chain wrapped around its throat, muscles straining as he choked it with all his strength. Taylor felt a brief stirring of optimism - the creature had isolated itself with them, was cut off from its allies, was incapable of truly fighting them and was losing limbs faster than she could count.
The door was ripped open and the other three entered. And everything went to hell. Sanagi found herself distracted by the spectre of a pincer-mouthed her attacking with a shining axe, moving in complete silence - no battle cries, no roars, no maddening whispers. Silent ferocity. The two met in the middle of the room, axes briefly slamming against each other before being cast aside in favour of good old-fashioned fisticuffs. They grappled, falling to the ground, punching when they could, trying to get enough leverage for a proper strike or a proper hold. But they knew each other too well - Sanagi would try a hold, Other Sanagi would slip out and try her own, but Sanagi would recognise it and evade before it could be completed. Up close, Other Sanagi looked worse than regular Sanagi - quite a feat at this point. Her face was seemingly split, livid red lines running down it, some of them poking open to reveal glistening muscle. Wounds that had never healed… and that was something that Sanagi lacked. She reached up suddenly and dug her fingers into the red wounds, tearing open. Other Sanagi screamed at that, thrashing wildly as her skin split and her flesh parted. For a moment, she saw something. Something shining - brighter that the totems of the grey men, brighter even than the coiling flame which had eaten the sky and distorted the land. As bright as a star. She blinked, and slammed Other Sanagi's head into the floor, over and over, until she stopped struggling. Sanagi stood, breathing heavily, and saw the other her trying to move, saw that bright light slowly building in her head, saw that pincered mouth openning… and she promptly picked up her axe and started slamming it down, over and over. The first strike split that pincered mouth open, shards of black sharp matter flying over the room. There was no blood at first, but once it began, it never stopped - a flood of brownish red that spilled over the floor, soaking into the pulpy wood which drank it eagerly, almost slurping. She still saw light, and slammed the axe down over and over until the light was no more, until the head was a pile of shimmering viscera and sharp bone. She took a deep breath, tasting the iron on the air. She glanced around.
The Other Arch had leapt on Taylor's back and sank his sharp teeth into her shoulder, dragging her away from the Other Taylor. The Other Mouse was currently engaged in a sword fight with her doppelganger, sobbing openly all the while, sniffling loudly. Sanagi snorted. Pathetic. She rushed towards the Other Arch with her axe, ready to split him open… when the regular Arch was flung head over heels from the many-armed monster, landing on the bloodsoaked floor. He looked around, momentarily bewildered (and probably still a little tipsy), then pulled out his switchblade and ran it over his double's heel, giving it a cheerful red smirk that widened first into a smile, then into a grin, before form collapsed and the ankle simply buckled, the Other Arch snarling like an animal as he went down. Arch stabbed his other self in the back. Then the front. Then Sanagi slammed her axe down and silenced the sharp-toothed, black-eyed thing. Taylor extricated herself from the cooling corpse, and though her swarm was still distracted and jittery, she could sense through them. And she sensed a many-armed thing begin to rise and reorient itself.
She ran forward, and slapped it again across the face with all the force she had left in her, splitting flesh and splintering bone. She could feel something beneath her hands, could feel half a dozen hearts beating, too many lungs pumping, too many minds burning with impossible thoughts. The actual body of Taylor was tiny, shrivelled, half-dead. But it had augmented itself until it was larger and stronger than Taylor could hope to be… at the cost of losing her mind. Taylor had a moment of fear. If she went too far, if she began to graft, would this happen to her? And worse, what if she kept her mind? If this thing had been able to think clearly, had been able to fight properly and with a full command of its own faculties… she'd have had no chance. No chance at all. She slapped it again. She couldn't recognise it anymore, the face was a bloody, pulped mess. Arch ran into it and plunged his switchblade into the eye socket, piercing the brain. The body began to fall apart, different minds commanding various limbs and organs, all order gone. One mind winked out, and most of the lungs failed. One by one every system flicked off as it starved, and Taylor breathed a sigh of relief as her swarm returned to her command. She sent it to the Other Mouse, abandoning all restraint and allowing it to feast on anything that seemed remotely edible. The Other Mouse died with a whimper, rusted sword clattering to the floor.
The group panted. They were covered in blood, and were surrounded by the dismembered, half-eaten, or simply brutalised corpses of themselves. Arch slowly pulled out another cigarette, and Mouse Protector gladly accepted it… as did Sanagi. Only Taylor declined. But she did take a quick swig of the hipflask, relishing the feeling of spreading warmth. They all quietly moved into another room, and sat down at a table.
"Well."
Taylor began. She had no follow-up. Mouse Protector sighed, and it turned into a small, slightly mad giggle at the end.
"...that just happened."
The rotting floors drank the blood hungrily, the gaps between the boards pulsing like open mouths.
Taylor awoke with a jolt. The others hadn't moved. The room was dark, and the only sound was tense breathing in the dusty gloom. She glanced around surreptitiously - had they seen anything? Had they heard anything? No-one seemed to react to her suddenly coming to, so… evidently not. Good. She shook her head, clearing away the last few memories lingering around the edges of her mind - a tree with three branches, a kneeling body, a man with a ball of fire instead of a head. She cleared her throat, and the others looked her way sharply. They all looked shaken, and Taylor couldn't help but notice the sharp pits of fresh, white wood where Sanagi's fingernails had dug deep into the axe handle. She stood, leaning against the wall to steady herself.
"...let's keep moving. We should be able to get to the church."
The others nodded. Taylor walked to the door, pushed it open gingerly, and stepped into the house beyond. It was dark, darker than it should be. A small shard of hope blossomed in her chest - had the sky gone back to normal? Would they step outside to see no burning stars, no trailing ribbons? Maybe that light was almost an on-off switch - flash the sky is on fire and the town goes on forever, flash the sky is normal and the church is right around the corner, presumably next to a giant pile of guns they could readily exploit, and a big old book which calmly and scientifically laid out who and what Bisha was, and how to completely defeat him. She imagined something involving buckets of icy water. The others followed her, and Mouse Protector dug around in her utility belt for a small but powerful flashlight - she thanked her lucky stars for buying this damn utility belt. Used up a good chunk of Crimson's bounty, but she couldn't count the number of times it'd saved her bacon. Plus, it had a big old mouse logo on the front, which was just wizard. They moved through the house, finding the front door as soon as they could. Their steps were hesitant, each one raising puffs of dust from the floor. The windows were still shuttered, blocking any view of the outside. Taylor slowly, cautiously pushed the door open, insects slowly filtering back into her perception. She blinked. Something was wrong.
Beyond the door was another room. Not identical to their own, not remotely, but still… a room. And connected to it were more doors, presumably leading to more rooms. Her swarm fanned out, filtering through. More empty rooms connected to more and more rooms. Some of them had windows… looking out to nothing but dull brown rooms with wooden walls swollen with damp, almost breathing in the still air. The others reacted in… various ways. Sanagi gritted her teeth, hefted her axe and strode forward. Arch took a quick snifter from his hipflask and followed, his chain clinking quietly at his side. Mouse Protector gave a deep sigh, and leant briefly against the doorframe. She gave Taylor an appraising look.
"What now?"
"We keep moving."
The cape unsheathed her sword, holding it loosely.
"Sounds good to me."
Taylor blinked. That was remarkably restrained of her. She expected some snarky comment, some little naive outburst from someone incapable of comprehending what was happening to them, or some moronic little-
"Sounds very gouda indeed. Positively brie-lliant."
She wheezed, slapping her knee loudly, before striding off with a distinctly more jaunty air about her. Taylor sighed. Some things never changed, apparently. Still, there were only so many cheese and mouse puns a person could make. They'd have to run out of them sometime. She walked off into the endless house.
* * *
It had been hours. With no sunlight, hours became unmeasurable. Their watches had served a purpose for a time, but all it took was a few of them to become forgetful, and they forgot when they had entered… and Taylor suspected that time was screwy enough in here that their watches were useless anyhow. The house was endless, room after room after room, each one similar but not identical, each one covered in dust and reeking of pulpy, sagging wood. There were no people. She wondered why she was calling it a house at all - there were no people here, and no-one could ever live in a place like this, a place with no corridors but endless rooms. It was strange, to be surrounded by rooms that went on forever - a bizarre blend of claustrophobia and agoraphobia. At one point she glanced through a cloudy window to see another cloudy window beyond it, and a cloudy window beyond even that, stretching forward as far as the eye could see. And in those windows, nothing but empty rooms. Their only light was Mouse Protector's flashlight - it charged itself by the simple action of them moving, and they had no inclination to waste their limited batteries on additional light. No matter how comforting it might have been. The silence was deafening.
They were in a labyrinth. Her limbs ached, and her scarred hands itched for a piece of thread, anything to follow, anything to guide them back to where they had started. Maybe they should have never left that tiny room, maybe they should have remained there until the next flash… if there even would be another flash. Maybe this was it - a space extended into infinity by coiling flames, a pocket of unreality where they would slowly succumb to exhaustion. A memory came to her then, one of her mother lecturing on some obscure point. Taylor had been interested in Greek mythology for a time - as one naturally does - and her mother had pointed out an interesting point on the labyrinth of Crete. She talked about the maze-like palaces of Crete, the double-axe, the kingeater, the dancing bulls… and she had talked about the ambiguity of the term 'labyrinth'. A true labyrinth, she said, was not a maze. A labyrinth confused, it bewildered, but it always guided its captive along a proper path to the centre. Christian theologians had enjoyed the symbol for exactly that reason - a long, difficult path with nonetheless a correct ending. A maze, though, had many options, many opportunities to get lost. Annette had smiled grimly at one point.
"...but, the place where the Minotaur was kept could be called a labyrinth, I suppose. There was an ending, a point where anyone trapped inside would always arrive at, sooner or later."
She'd blinked confusedly.
"The minotaur. No matter how lost you were, the 'centre' of the labyrinth was always pursuing you. Like it or not, you'd always find the centre. Or, rather, it'd find you."
That had been the last time she'd really been interested in Greek mythology. A short, barely remembered nightmare of wandering in an endless maze, the subject of that maze silently stalking her, had been a potent disincentive to get more involved. And now here she was. Was this a maze? Or was it a labyrinth? Was there a centre, and was there a minotaur? Was there no point to this construction, just an endless structure without form or purpose, leading into eternity for no conceivable reason? How long had they been walking? She looked up, seeing the sagging ceiling of pulpy wood, breathing down on her. Were there more rooms above them, more endless constructions piled on top of each other? She felt nothing through her swarm… and she didn't know if she wanted to. Two dimensions were bad enough, she had no desire to introduce a third to this endless place.
Hours later, they were all exhausted, thirsty, hungry. Taylor reluctantly called for a stop. They sat down around a rotting dinner table - there weren't enough chairs, so they took some from adjoining rooms to make up the set. Taylor briefly wondered if anyone else would ever wander through here, and if they did, what they'd make of this scene. One room with fewer chairs than normal, one room with too many. Would they briefly hope there was someone else? In a fit of pique, she borrowed Arch's knife and used it to carve a small message into the table.
Good luck.
The others didn't react. Taylor looked down at the pulpy wood, the way it sagged and sighed, and wondered if her message would linger, or if the wood would just… ooze back into place. Would the dust they had disturbed with their passing resettle, leaving no trace they had ever walked past? Would some invisible custodian, perhaps the minotaur she had dreamt of as a child, walk in and return the chairs to their proper position? She was asking herself too many questions… but questions were all she had. If she stopped asking questions, she'd realise very quickly that she had no answers. They were walking into nowhere, and she had no idea if there even was an exit for them to find. Maybe this was how everyone in this town had gone. Walk through the house for eternity, go mad, plunge into the depths of despair which Bisha seemed to relish inducing, if the experience at the pier had been any clue, and then emerge into the outside world ready to char and melt into a perfect statue, praying to the flaming sky and the shining church. The others sat around the table, too exhausted to drum their hands or tap their heels restlessly. Taylor looked around. They looked awful. Covered in dust, bags under their eyes, a frantic, hungry look about all of them. Even Mouse Protector looked subdued. She briefly imagined them succumbing to despair, madness, invoking the flame almost by accident. She coughed.
"...if we're resting here, might as well entertain ourselves. Sorry about my answers to two truths and a lie earlier, they were… boring. Mind if I try again?"
Mouse Protector gave her a hopeful look, and a small smile almost poked through her facemask. She leant back in her decaying chair. She gestured for Taylor to go ahead.
"OK. I saw a tree eat a town. I stared Lung into submission. There's a Japanese nun inside my head."
MP tapped her chin.
"That's actually difficult. You know what… I'll say the Japanese nun thing isn't true."
Taylor mutely shook her head.
"Damn, really? Wait, what kind of nun, like, full penguin-suit nun, or orange robes nun?"
"The latter."
"Shucks. That's pretty funky. So, which one was the lie?"
"The Lung one. I did once stare at him, and he didn't kill me, which was pretty sweet. He was full-on dragon too."
Arch perked up, raising his hipflask.
"Oh, you mentioned this at lunch with Jochi. Do the stare, it's really freaky."
She did the stare. Sanagi nodded approvingly, and the cape almost flinched.
"Holy moly, that's… quite somethin'!"
"Thanks. Funnily enough, the whole 'staring down Lung' thing occurred right before the Japanese nun got all comfortable in my grey matter. Well, her memories did at least."
They settled into a more comfortable silence. Arch shrugged.
"I never actually took my turn earlier, so… I once did snuff with a Spanish aristocrat, I was attacked by an eagle once, and I was once homeless for six months."
Sanagi squinted, thinking.
"You weren't attacked by an eagle. The Spanish aristocrat one sounds too specific to be a lie, and I can imagine you being homeless for six months."
He grinned.
"Nope. I was homeless for three months. World of difference."
Taylor leant forward, interested.
"You were attacked by an eagle?"
"Indeed I was. I was up in the Alps doing some fun stuff with some buddies - skiing, drinking, and acid mostly - and looked up to see a tiny dark shape. Then it was larger, then larger still, and the next thing I know a golden eagle is trying to claw my face off."
"What'd you do?"
"Punched it in its smug beaky face is what I did, knocked that son-of-a-bitch right out. Face was a mess though."
He gestured - and Taylor could believe she'd never noticed the very faint scars on his face. They were almost invisible on his pale, completely un-tanned skin (a sad consequence of British weather, she assumed), and formed a strange lattice stretching from ear to ear. It was a miracle he hadn't lost his eye. Mouse Protector, though, was focused on something else.
"Spanish aristocrat? And what's snuff - I mean, I've heard of snuff films, but I'm assuming you wouldn't admit to that around a good, law-abiding cheesemonger such as myself."
"Sniffing tobacco. Used to be more popular, then people realised cigarettes are way more sexy. Makes you sneeze like hell, but when a Spanish aristocrat who studied zoology and spent a year writing about homosexual ducks offers you snuff, you damn well take it is what you do."
Speaking of cigarettes, he pulled out his packet and offered them around. Mouse Protector took one automatically, before realising she had a facemask on. With a grunt, she started to pull it down, and the others froze.
"You're just going to unmask yourself?"
The cape paused.
"...well, if we're going to die here, I'd prefer to have a quick smoke over preserving my secret identity. Also, with all this dust, this thing has been choking me for hours. Need some air."
Taylor shrugged.
"Fair enough. I mean, you know my identity."
MP smiled widely.
"Exactly. It's only fair."
She removed the mask, and beneath it was… well, Taylor had expected a mousy woman, if only to keep with her general theme. If not mousy, then her face should at least be impish and sly. To her disappointment, Mouse Protector looked completely ordinary. Tired, sure, but her face was wide and homely. It was a little uncanny to hear that same shit-stirring voice come out of a face which would was so completely ordinary. But what really attracted her attention was the jagged, curling red scar which lay, like a languid pink slug, on her jaw and slipping upwards to almost split her lower lip.
"No need to fall over yourselves with the compliments."
Sanagi tilted her head to one side.
"What's with the scar?"
MP paused, puffing on her cigarette. The feeling of the smoke was damn euphoric for her - she might not be a Protectorate hero anymore, but some habits die hard. She'd committed herself to being approachable and friendly, and having a voice crackly as an old gramophone record wouldn't exactly contribute to that image. The last time she'd had a proper smoke was after fighting Crimson. Speaking of whom:
"Crimson. Well, not him, but… the other guy. Jack Slash. Happened right after. Didn't want me forgetting that night, wanted me to be reminded of it every time I looked in a mirror."
Sanagi leant forwards over the table, eyes bright.
"What's he like? Jack Slash, I mean."
"...hard to describe."
She stopped talking. She really didn't want to talk about that man. Even saying his name was bringing back memories of his bright razor, of his overwhelming charisma, of the way the other members of the Slaughterhouse seemed to stay a good distance from him - terrified, she thought, though she knew if she had raised that particular theory she'd have been ripped to pieces in a second. She'd started her frequent moves around the country shortly after that encounter - never staying in one place for too long, always on the road. You never recover from finding Crimson's stuffed and mounted head in your postbox, with a friendly note congratulating you on a good fight. She shook her head a little, clearing the thoughts away.
"Enough about me. So, Sanagi-of-the-missing-ear, why don't you have a go?"
Sanagi stiffened.
"I'd rather not."
"C'mon, everyone else has. Got real personal, too."
She sighed. Taylor shot the cape a look - a tiny warning not to screw up like she had in the car. The last thing they needed was infighting in this damn house.
"Fine. I'm a cop. I'm a radical libertarian. I…"
MP booed loudly. The itch was overwhelming.
"C'mon, that's so boring - give us some meat!"
Sanagi gritted her teeth.
"Fine. You want two truths and a lie? I was stabbed in the throat by an alien. I once said 'fuck you' to Lung. And I'm a radical libertarian."
MP blinked.
"...I'm guessing you're not a radical libertarian."
"Bingo."
"Man, you people should just stay away from Lung - one of you stares at him at close range, and one of you swears at him."
"Well, he did make me chop off my finger to prove a point."
"Damn. That's rough, buddy."
"It was."
They fell into silence after that, throats dry and stomachs rumbling, content to sit back and rest their weary feet, and in Arch and Mouse Protector's case, to smoke like furnaces. Finally, they all felt ready to stand once again and get back to moving. Doors were opened, rooms were explored, and bit by bit the exhaustion they'd tried to dispel returned with a vengeance. Taylor was tense. If there was going to be another flash, it'd probably be soon. More doors faced them, and Taylor hesitantly pushed one open.
Someone stared back.
She jerked backwards in fright, and the others crowded round to see what had startled her so. The door led to a long, long corridor - the first they'd seen - and at the end of the corridor was a tiny rectangle of light. A tiny room with a crackling fire in the centre. And standing in that doorway was a tall, bulky figure. Behind it were stood three more. They slowly began to walk down the corridor. Taylor cried out:
"Stay back! Tell us who you are!"
The figures barely paused, continuing their slow, steady march. She readied her swarm to attack. If these things were the minotaur she'd feared… well, she'd see how they fared against a swarm of biting, distracting insects. Then, a voice cried back - one that was paradoxically high, and yet had a rumbling undercurrent behind it.
"Stay back! Tell us who you are!"
Taylor paled. Something unnatural was going on. She sent her swarm out… and it froze. Insects twitched in mid-air, flitting one direction then another, one moment charging towards the approaching figures and the next moment shivering in mid-air and charging backwards, stingers glistening in the dim light from the end of the corridor. A bead of cold sweat ran down her face as she tried to focus, tried to reassert control of the swarm. The figures approached, and finally came into the torchlight. A familiar face stared at Taylor, blinked, then grinned. The smile was red, the teeth soaked with blood. The face was familiar - one eye concealed behind an eyepatch, the other cold as ice, a narrow face with a wide mouth and tumbling curls streaming behind it. But there were bulges in the face, and the frame was completely wrong - and as the figure came closer, Taylor could see why. The other Taylor had more than two arms - she had many, taken from a whole host of people, branching away from her back and wrapping around her original arms to give them bulk and strength they otherwise lacked. The other figures were coming into the light, and each one was the same mix of familiar and foreign. A Japanese woman with one ear, and a bloody axe clutched in her hands… but with black, chittering pincers emerging from her grim mouth. A wide man in a filthy Hawaiian shirt, streaked with blood and dust, but his teeth were filed to razor-sharp points, and his face was invisible beneath a mass of shining scars. All that could be seen were a pair of coal-black eyes, hungry and vicious. And trailing behind was a woman in battered, rusting armour, a half-ruined sword hanging from her shaking hands.
Taylor screamed 'run!' and run they did, their doubles pursuing them, the Other Taylor likewise bellowing 'run!' in her high-deep voice. The house stretched before them into an interminable distance, and they ran as fast as they could, fleeing from the shambling, bloodied doubles which had somehow, impossibly, been generated. The Other Taylor was fast, her many arms clutching the floor and dragging her along at an unnatural pace, with a staggering, unsteady gait. The Other Mouse Protector flung a piece of rotten fruit in their direction, and with a 'pop', she was suddenly much too close for comfort. She had no mask, and no helmet - and Taylor could see a livid pink scar running across her scalp, as though her skull had been split open and then had been soldered shut messily. She was muttering, too, in a low, angry voice completely at odds with the outspoken and cheerful cape that Taylor was finding herself begrudgingly becoming fond of.
"Let us out, let us out, let us out…"
Taylor gritted her teeth and ran onwards… and a great dark mass flung itself overhead, crashing down just in front of her. The Other Taylor unfurled herself, revealing dozens of arms that made her seem truly enormous. She blocked the path ahead, and her companions blocked the path behind. Mouse Protector, showing a great deal of initiative, flung a tiny coin towards the door, teleporting to it and slamming the door shut, barring it with a chair. It wasn't much, but it would stop the others from getting in… for now, at least. The Other Taylor reared up, her many arms and many legs twitching eagerly. Her bloodstained smile was unnaturally wide, and her cold eye nonetheless burned with an inner madness. Up close, she looked… awful. Pale skin wrapped too tightly around malformed bones, hair matted and filthy, teeth chipped and stained, clothes torn and ragged. Taylor tried to rally her swarm, but it continued to jitter and shiver, uncertain of who to obey. The Other Taylor leaned close, her body descending and her many arms supporting her as she went.
"Hello, me."
There was the sound of an axe striking the sealed door. Taylor managed to speak, her heart in her throat.
"What are you?"
"Better than you."
And the Other Taylor attacked, arms flailing wildly, striking anything in her path. She fought chaotically, as if she barely had any command of her limbs. Taylor tried to protect herself, but one arm ripped her defences away while another struck her viciously in the face. She could feel blood filling her mouth, streaming down her throat. Idly, she remembered something, a grim fact Turk had once told her. You could swallow a litre of blood before needing to throw up. Even if she didn't want to vomit, she could still feel her teeth turning red as fresh liver. Her fellows descended, brandishing their own weapons. Mouse Protector's sword sliced through through limbs, sending them scattering to the ground like loose branches, still twitching erratically as they fell. Sanagi did much the same, her axe felling fleshy branch after fleshy branch. The Other Taylor howled animalistically, no human words passing those lips, and as she moved Taylor saw small heads bulging from her back, their mouths parting and whispering a repetitive, maddening mantra.
"We cannot get out, we cannot get out, we cannot get out."
The door split, and a shining axe forced its way through. The Other Sanagi poked her head through, black pincers clicking angrily, eyes searching wildly for prey. It wouldn't take her long to break through now, not once she could force her arm through and remove the chair. The Other Taylor was at least wounded, and with the monster distracted Taylor could begin to muster an attack. She jumped forward, shining palms at the ready, and grabbed onto the Other Taylor's face, holding on for dear life. The monster roared, thrashing around wildly, and Taylor slapped her monstrous self in the face, her too-powerful palms tearing the skin and almost cracking bone. Flesh parted like paper, far easier than it really should have, and a boiling yellow liquid spilled out, scalding the parts of her hands which yet remained unscarred. The monster tried to reach around, tried to pick Taylor off its face… and it stopped. Arch was on its back, chain wrapped around its throat, muscles straining as he choked it with all his strength. Taylor felt a brief stirring of optimism - the creature had isolated itself with them, was cut off from its allies, was incapable of truly fighting them and was losing limbs faster than she could count.
The door was ripped open and the other three entered. And everything went to hell. Sanagi found herself distracted by the spectre of a pincer-mouthed her attacking with a shining axe, moving in complete silence - no battle cries, no roars, no maddening whispers. Silent ferocity. The two met in the middle of the room, axes briefly slamming against each other before being cast aside in favour of good old-fashioned fisticuffs. They grappled, falling to the ground, punching when they could, trying to get enough leverage for a proper strike or a proper hold. But they knew each other too well - Sanagi would try a hold, Other Sanagi would slip out and try her own, but Sanagi would recognise it and evade before it could be completed. Up close, Other Sanagi looked worse than regular Sanagi - quite a feat at this point. Her face was seemingly split, livid red lines running down it, some of them poking open to reveal glistening muscle. Wounds that had never healed… and that was something that Sanagi lacked. She reached up suddenly and dug her fingers into the red wounds, tearing open. Other Sanagi screamed at that, thrashing wildly as her skin split and her flesh parted. For a moment, she saw something. Something shining - brighter that the totems of the grey men, brighter even than the coiling flame which had eaten the sky and distorted the land. As bright as a star. She blinked, and slammed Other Sanagi's head into the floor, over and over, until she stopped struggling. Sanagi stood, breathing heavily, and saw the other her trying to move, saw that bright light slowly building in her head, saw that pincered mouth openning… and she promptly picked up her axe and started slamming it down, over and over. The first strike split that pincered mouth open, shards of black sharp matter flying over the room. There was no blood at first, but once it began, it never stopped - a flood of brownish red that spilled over the floor, soaking into the pulpy wood which drank it eagerly, almost slurping. She still saw light, and slammed the axe down over and over until the light was no more, until the head was a pile of shimmering viscera and sharp bone. She took a deep breath, tasting the iron on the air. She glanced around.
The Other Arch had leapt on Taylor's back and sank his sharp teeth into her shoulder, dragging her away from the Other Taylor. The Other Mouse was currently engaged in a sword fight with her doppelganger, sobbing openly all the while, sniffling loudly. Sanagi snorted. Pathetic. She rushed towards the Other Arch with her axe, ready to split him open… when the regular Arch was flung head over heels from the many-armed monster, landing on the bloodsoaked floor. He looked around, momentarily bewildered (and probably still a little tipsy), then pulled out his switchblade and ran it over his double's heel, giving it a cheerful red smirk that widened first into a smile, then into a grin, before form collapsed and the ankle simply buckled, the Other Arch snarling like an animal as he went down. Arch stabbed his other self in the back. Then the front. Then Sanagi slammed her axe down and silenced the sharp-toothed, black-eyed thing. Taylor extricated herself from the cooling corpse, and though her swarm was still distracted and jittery, she could sense through them. And she sensed a many-armed thing begin to rise and reorient itself.
She ran forward, and slapped it again across the face with all the force she had left in her, splitting flesh and splintering bone. She could feel something beneath her hands, could feel half a dozen hearts beating, too many lungs pumping, too many minds burning with impossible thoughts. The actual body of Taylor was tiny, shrivelled, half-dead. But it had augmented itself until it was larger and stronger than Taylor could hope to be… at the cost of losing her mind. Taylor had a moment of fear. If she went too far, if she began to graft, would this happen to her? And worse, what if she kept her mind? If this thing had been able to think clearly, had been able to fight properly and with a full command of its own faculties… she'd have had no chance. No chance at all. She slapped it again. She couldn't recognise it anymore, the face was a bloody, pulped mess. Arch ran into it and plunged his switchblade into the eye socket, piercing the brain. The body began to fall apart, different minds commanding various limbs and organs, all order gone. One mind winked out, and most of the lungs failed. One by one every system flicked off as it starved, and Taylor breathed a sigh of relief as her swarm returned to her command. She sent it to the Other Mouse, abandoning all restraint and allowing it to feast on anything that seemed remotely edible. The Other Mouse died with a whimper, rusted sword clattering to the floor.
The group panted. They were covered in blood, and were surrounded by the dismembered, half-eaten, or simply brutalised corpses of themselves. Arch slowly pulled out another cigarette, and Mouse Protector gladly accepted it… as did Sanagi. Only Taylor declined. But she did take a quick swig of the hipflask, relishing the feeling of spreading warmth. They all quietly moved into another room, and sat down at a table.
"Well."
Taylor began. She had no follow-up. Mouse Protector sighed, and it turned into a small, slightly mad giggle at the end.
"...that just happened."
The rotting floors drank the blood hungrily, the gaps between the boards pulsing like open mouths.
AN: That's all for today, see you all tomorrow! And incidentally, @Nailah , congrats on catching up! Hope you're enjoying things thus far.
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