Moonlight Chronicles
Chapter 6
“I’m just saying – it’s not that I don’t think you can or should wear makeup,” Mace said evenly, eyes locked on the blackened steel interior of his precision carbine. “I just think it’s odd you’re applying it
four hours early.”
Ebony pursed her lips and did everything in her power to keep from crying. The tears threatening to break didn’t really have anything to do with what Mace was saying; rather, she was trying very hard not to ruin the mascara she was brushing onto her eyelashes. All it would take was for her hand to stray an eighth of an inch, and she would jab herself in the eye with the mascara brush…which was exactly what happened.
“Fuck!”
Ebony swore and squeezed her eyes shut. The movement caused a tear to cut a muddy swath through her carefully-applied make-up, thus ruining her latest attempt. Ebony grabbed a nearby rag – which was marred with the colors of her last half-dozen attempts – and angrily scrubbed the newly-made water colors off her face.
“Because, dickhead.” Ebony’s chair squeaked as she twisted in place. She turned her attention from the burnished steel mirror and focused her blood-shot eyes at Mace. “I don’t know dick about makeup.”
“I thought the makeup kit came with instructions.”
“It does! But it’s a lot fucking harder than it looks.” Ebony snatched at the heavily creased and smudged instruction booklet and tried to get her bleary eyes to focus on the page. “’This clay-infused gel mixture should be applied at the waterline via pen to produce eye-popping results.’ Easier said than done. Would it have killed them to include pictures?”
“Maybe a pop-up book? A glamour showing a buxom woman in a skin-tight dress lovingly demonstrating each individual stroke?” Duffy glanced up from the desk, temporarily taking a break from writing to make himself annoying.
Ebony frowned, but conceded. “Well…maybe not with such a gross description. But yes, a glamour would be well appreciated.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it,” Mace said, carefully running a cotton swab through a bit of exposed machinery. The swab came back covered in carbon and was promptly discarded. “And if you don’t, then I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you sans makeup.”
“You should forget about makeup,” Duffy chipped in. “Write her a poem. Something from the heart, something special. She won’t be able to see your hideously disfigured face if her eyes are swimming with tears from your heart-wrenching words.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m serious! I’ll even help you write it.”
“I think I’ll pass.”
“What, you don’t think my work is good enough? Here, let me read you an excerpt.”
“No need.”
“Oh, you can’t just blast my skills as a writer then hang me out to dry! Come on.”
“I think what Duffy really wants,” Mace interjected, “is to show off what he’s written thusfar. If that’s the case, he won’t let it go until our ears are bleeding. Go on Duff, let’s hear it.”
“Excuse you, Mace. My wedding vows are a sacred, cherished series of carefully-crafted words I will be reading to Trixxie during our long-awaited ceremony.”
“Are you going to read it or not?”
“Of
course I’m going to read it.”
Duffy peeled up his notepad and shook it briefly to help the ink dry. He cleared his throat once, twice, three times, four times, five times, shook the pad again, then paused for dramatic effect.
“Shall I compare thee to a summers day?”
“Fucking hell.”
“Thou art more bangin’ and more smoking hot.”
“There we go.”
“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and your booty is the best I’ve ever bought.”
“These are your
wedding vows?” Mace snapped the handhold closed on his carbine and turned to face the self-proclaimed poet. “Duff, you can’t be serious.”
“Trust me, she’s going to find it hilarious.”
“If this is you writing ‘from the heart’, then I think I’ve dodged a bullet on the poetry front.” Ebony turned back to her mirror and began her latest attempt at apply eyeliner.
“You think it could use a revision?”
“I think your heart is worth thirty-one Dukes, that’s what I think.”
“Maybe ‘revision’ is too small a word,” Mace corrected. “You’re marrying this woman, right? Don’t make a joke out of it, don’t mock it. Speak from the heart. Take your own advice.”
Duffy tapped his pen against his chin thoughtfully. The wet tip let a number of black dots on his pale skin, but it was nearly impossible to see through his scruffy chin hair. He opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp knock at the door interrupted the discussion.
“Duffy, Ebony, can the two of you accompany me, please?”
Doctor Cancorum Filium stepped into the room without ceremony. He glanced up only long enough to verify the two of them were indeed present, then returned his attention to his clipboard. It was hard to tell his expression behind an ornate crab-faced mask; porcelain plates joined together to mimic the armor of a crustacean, leaving two clear glass slots through which he could see. It was odd, but then again most doctors were eccentric to some degree.
Ebony gave Duffy a guilty look, but the man didn’t have an ounce of shame in his body. “Of course, doc. Wait just a tick – “
Duffy crumpled up the poem he’d been writing and hucked it into the trash, then spun out of his chair. Ebony wiped off her latest attempt at eyeliner and followed suit. Mace, despite the fact the doctor hadn’t asked for him, slotted the bolt back into his carbine and slung it over his back.
The three of them followed the doctor out of the barracks and down the hall. They travelled mostly in silence, until Ebony finally spoke up.
“So…what’s this about, Doctor Filium?” Ebony thought back to the clothing store and how she’d so easily handed NOCOF the tab for the dress. It had been a moment of weakness, to be sure, but really how much trouble could they be in? They were risking their lives out there. So what if she splurged on a fancy dress every once in a while? Lord Duffy had to have spent way more than that at the Velvet Diamond.
“New gear,” the crab doctor curtly replied. “Expeditions coming up, and we managed to secure a line on some decent equipment.”
The hallway opened into a modest-sized cavern. A narrow walkway led to a number of booths, and the rest of the cavern was left empty – save for a few plywood cut-outs at the other end. Doctor Decorum Noctua, the Owl, fussed over a pile of equipment on a nearby table. He glanced up as the others entered, revealing his ornately carved owl mask.
“Ebony! And mi’lord. You’ll be pleased to know we’ve recently acquired something new for you two. Ebony first – here you are.”
Decorum Noctua hefted a large crested shield and handed it over. Ebony took it cautiously, noting with some surprise that the greenish-hued metal shield was far lighter than she expected.
“Pure Perdurium. Nothing lighter, nothing stronger. We know you’re not much for guns, so we thought this would be a decent off-hand weapon.”
Ebony slotted her arm through the strap and rolled her shoulder. The shield was large, but not cumbersome. It left her main hand free, and a padded strap let her sling it over a shoulder.
“Tell us,
have you ever hit anything with those throwing knives, Ebony?”
“Fuck off.”
“Hey, I’m just saying, it’s a good look for you.” Duffy raised his hands defensively. “Just don’t throw it, because you won’t hit shit.”
“That’s enough,” Mace stepped in.
“Fine, fine. Doc, you said you had something for me?”
“Quite. Now, be careful with this, Lord Duffy, as we spent a great deal acquiring it. The cost alone was enough to afford the components to cure a half-dozen moon-touched, but after considerable debate…” The two doctors exchanged a look, and Filium continued on. “…we decided that enabling you to more easily defend yourselves in the wastes was a better investment.”
Noctua lifted and almost reverently handed the piece of equipment to Duffy. It was an amalgamation of wood and steel, like Mace’s carbine, yet it did not feature the same elegance. Every scrap of material was bent into place with blunt purpose, and the weight was nearly double. It wasn’t too heavy to carry one-handed, but it was a near thing. In pale contrast to Ebony, Duffy grunted as he took the item and found the appropriate places to lay his hands.
“…okay. So Ebony gets the nice light shield, and I get the paperweight made out of lead. Nice gift.”
“I’d appreciate if you kept your sass to a minimum,” Filium said dryly. “This is the Hunter Prototype ‘Avto’, an experimental foray into rapid-fire machined weaponry. It costs more than it did to cure the three of you, so I’d appreciate if you treated it with the appropriate respect.”
Duffy fiddled with the straps until he found the intended way to brace the gun, then stepped over to one of the shooting booths. The barrel wobbled unsteadily as he one-handed the weapon and aimed down range. “Sure, sure, respect. Look, I appreciate it, but the double-barrel pistol works for me just fine and this thing weighs like, a dozen times as much. So unless it is a dozen times better, I think I’ll stick with ol’
Reaper.”
“You named your gun ‘Reaper’?”
“Don’t start,
Ebony Mother Fucking
Moonblade God Damn
Ravensblight.”
“Do be careful,“ Doctor Noctua reached out nervously as Duffy glared back at Ebony. “The munitions for this weapon are
quite expensive, so we advise you use short, controlled bursts – “
The gun roared to life, belching a flash of flame and gunsmoke as a bottle-nosed 7.62mm screamed downrange. The action slammed open and kicked the spent brass into the air, then racked a new bullet as the spring forced it closed once more. The second round, hot on the tail of the first, escaped the gun with the exact same level of excitement.
“OH FUCK – FUCK, HAHA, OH
FUCK – “
The drum magazine fed rounds into the gun one after another. The contraption shook, vibrated, and jolted with each round, and Duffy had to take a step back to steady himself. The back wall of the cavern exploded into shards of rock and dust. Rocky shrapnel flew into the nearby targets, digging in and scarring where ever they landed.
And then Duffy
hit one.
The plywood ruptured into a shower of splinters. It vanished into the smoke, leaving nothing more than a jagged outline of what had once been a monster-shaped cut of wood. Duffy swung the gun wide, and like wheat before the scythe the other targets vanished from view.
The gun fell silent after the fortieth brass shell was sent tumbling into the air, leaving the receiver jammed open. The barrel, the action – even the joints where the gun had been welded – were all smoking. Duffy gave the trigger a few more hopeful squeezes, then turned back to the rest of the group with eyes the size of dinner plates.
“
Holy shit! Did you guys see that shit? Ha haha ha, oh fuck yeah! You can keep your dinky little carbine, Mace!”
“
What?” Mace shouted, grinding a finger into his ear.
“
What?” Duffy replied.
“
You’re a fucking asshole!” Ebony shouted in turn.
“
I can’t hear you!” Duffy pointed towards his ears. “
I think the fire alarm is going off?”
Everyone’s hearing returned slowly over the course of the next half-hour. Despite the gun being empty and exceedingly hot, Duffy refused to let it go. He instead cradled it as they left the gun range, occasionally burning himself on the barrel shroud. The members of the Order convened in the briefing room, where Apothecary Mirable Vulpes, the Fox, met them.
“I hear I missed a bit of excitement,” Vulpes looked around the room. Her mask was made of paper – not cheaply, but lightweight and beautifully painted in flowing lines. “Although I think the rest of you have heard enough already.”
“Did you have to give it to him, of all people?” Ebony worked her jaw, temporarily making the ringing stop.
“He scored the best on the range aptitude tests, unfortunately.”
“Yes,” Duffy pumped his fist, then resumed petting the wooden stock of the Avto.
“And I don’t think you’ll have much to worry about, as he’ll soon be departing towards Darremont’s Bell as part of a joint Expedition. Your ears will, for the imminent future, be safe from further harm.”
“We’re not going with him?” Mace asked, curious.
“No –
you two will be paying a visit to the Antiquarian’s Manor as part of a Joint Expedition with the Midnight Redeemers. Or the Moonlight Reclaimers. Or whatever they’re calling themselves these days.”
“And we don’t get a say in the matter?”
“I’m afraid not,” Doctor Vulpes sighed. She flipped open a folder and scanned a few contracts. “I could go through the exact chain of events that decided how these expeditions would be formed, but suffice to say it was simply politics. But, with your new shield and gun, we foresee a reasonable chance of success for all parties involved.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with a book deal, does it?”
Vulpes tilted her head at Ebony’s question. “I…don’t quite follow?”
“Is it possible you’re dividing us this way because it makes the most exciting narrative? For say, a Duke Dreadful novel you’ve been publishing?” Ebony reached into her pocket and pulled out a heavily-folded wad of paper and tossed it on the table. It was ‘Mace and the Automaton Abomination!’, featuring a simply-drawn portrait of Mace Hawkshire wielding his carbine against a towering mechanical creature.
“…I sense that you are upset, but let me assure you that these novels have no bearing on our Orders decisions.”
“No, but it does affect how the people of Haven see us.” Ebony flipped the novel open to a dog-eared page and began reading.
“Get out of here,’ Mace shouted, his Holy Hunter eyes gleaming in the low light. The Abomination drove its drill into his chest, but the Hunters might and battle-hardened hands caught hold of it before it could eviscerate him. ‘Get back to Haven, we have to warn them all! The life of one Hunter isn’t worth the last bastion of humanity!’ To which Lord Duffy, King of Monsters replied, ‘Nay, my valiant brethren; for sooth, though this beast not be of my domain, I shall wrest it into my service! We are kinsmen, and I shant leave my blood of my blood to perish. But alas, the darkness befouling my eyes, I cannot see to where my bullet should fly!” Ebony Moonblade Ravensblight, perched atop a nearby building, heard their pleas. For truly she’d not been slain in the collapsing factory, but survived through her own natural guile and super-natural instinct. ‘Fret not, little Hunters,’ she called. ‘For
I am the Darkness!’ And in one fell swoop, she severed the Abominations head from its shoulders.”
Ebony pursed her lips and glared up at Doctor Vulpes. “You could have fucking asked us before you went and made us out to be some sort of invincible super-heroes, asshole.”
“I know you’re mad,” Vulpes raised her hands, “but it was a sound decision. It’s excellent PR, and the additional income is quite useful.”
“Why, so you can buy Duffy the
Collateral Damage 9000?”
“No, so we can afford for you lot to buy dresses and visit whore houses.”
Doctor Filium spoke up finally, setting his clipboard down on the table with a thump. A small silence followed, during which he looked between Ebony and Duffy. “What, you thought we didn’t know? We knew the moment the bill from the Velvet Diamond arrived with my poorly-forged signature.”
“Aw shit, are we in trouble?” Duffy squeezed his Avto tighter, as if suddenly afraid they’d take it away.
“No.” Doctor Filium sighed and settled back into his chair.
“After considerable debate, we…agreed,” Doctor Noctua glanced between the other two doctors, then continued, “that perhaps it’s best to afford you all some leeway when it comes to your recreational activities in town. We’ve elected to consider it an expense, same as food or bullets. Moral is a need, same as any other.”
“And the novels make you out to be super-heroes because that’s what Haven needs.” Vulpes added in. “It generates more support if people believe you’re fantastical, blessed heroes, rather than an amnesiac with considerable funding.”
“They treat us like freaks.”
“They treat you like heroes,” Filium said firmly. “And they’ll continue to do so until you give them a reason not to. We may not be travelling the wastes for days at a time, but we work around the clock here to
make sure you can carry out the purpose given to you. And until the moon no longer saps the life from every poor soul unfortunate enough to stumble into its light, we will
keep working. Vulpes does not spend a years wages on fancy dresses. Noctua doesn’t spend his nights at the Velvet Diamond. And I don’t go for a jaunt in the Moonlight when I grow tired of it all.”
Doctor Filium glanced towards Mace as he said that. Mace was staring resolutely at the wall, his jaw set. A moment of silence passed, then Filium gave a surprisingly gentle sigh and massaged his temples.
“Look. We don’t keep you here against your will. If you no longer wish to be a member of the Noble Order of the Crab, Owl, and Fox, then you are free to leave at any time. But know that we won’t quit. And if a Duke Dreadful calling you
heroes is the breaking point, then we’ll cancel production. Are we all satisfied?”
The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken only by the gentle hum of the air ducts pumping fresh oxygen into the underground cavern.
“Alright then. Vulpes, if you would continue the briefing. The expedition leaves tomorrow, and we don’t want Ebony to be late for her date tonight.”
Author
Topic: Ventures By Moonlight | A Semi-Cooperative Dark Fantasy | Always Recruiting (Read 33016 times)