A/N: Hello~ everyone! I'm ba-ack! :D
Did you guys miss me? Because I really missed writing. Things got really crazy for a while, consisting of everything from writer's block to college to vacations to getting my first novel published to finally getting a job! If anyone out there would like to know the title of my novel in order to check it out, feel free to PM me! It's been an incredible couple of years, and I apologize profusely for leaving all of my readers to wonder what has become of me. I intend to try to get back to my previously active FF writing, but as always, one cannot predict reality and its various devices.
Anywho. I'm not going to close or delete Tragic Paradise or Purrfection because I do want to keep writing them, but it's been so long now that I've forgotten most of exactly what I intended for them. I'll have to re-read my own work and try to get a new grip on them again. For now, I'm going to begin this brand new story in a brand new book category that I personally requested that add into their list. I read this series for the first time last year, and I'm in the process of reading them all again.
It's a very different sort of fantasy than either of my other fanfictions, so I hope those of you who have read and followed those stories will give this one a chance as well!
Also, stay tuned at the end of the chapter for a set of hilarious outtakes! It's an idea I got from fellow FF writer, Asante. Thought it was awesome and made room for plenty of laughs, so I've decided to incorporate them in my own writing! I intend to supply outtakes at the end of every chapter, but I hope you'll all forgive me if there are any chapters where I just can't come up with any good ones.
And now, my dear readers, may I present to you: Freedom Unhinged!
Chapter 1
"Well this sucks," Sebastian muttered under his breath, halfheartedly kicking the front tire of his motorcycle, which had completely broken down just when he was about fifty miles from his next destination.
The machine was a gorgeous hot rod of a thing: shiny black with a blazing flame design done in kaleidoscopic paint. Whatever way light—partciularly sunlight—hit the flames, they shimmered a different set of colors. They were green, blue, and violet at the moment, but Bast knew if he moved to a different spot, the colors would be replaced with new ones. Leaning his elbow against the handlebar, he crossed one leg over the other and looked around at his surroundings.
It was a pretty open area, the road he'd been traveling on made up of two lanes with gravel strips along each side and scattered trees beyond. He was, as humans liked to say, "in the middle of nowhere." Well, okay, so maybe it wasn't actually nowhere. He was just fifty miles away from somewhere.
"Why'd ya do this to me?" he asked, looking down at the apathetic bike. The thing had never given him a single problem, not in the five years he'd had it. He took excellent care of it, so what could possibly be the problem? It would be easy enough to get to the nearest town, but the motorcycle was his baby, and he didn't want to just leave it on the side of the road for any random passer-by to pick up. Not that the bike would go anywhere, but if someone with a truck showed up, it would only take a little hard work to get the bike into the bed and drive away.
And why was he so worried? He got a new motorcycle every five years or so anyway. This baby's time was nearly over either way he looked at it. But this one had been his favorite so far, with its glossy black sheen and the glorious flames that changed all the time just like him. Bast suffered from what some people might call ADD to the max. He never stuck with anything for very long. Motorcycles ran in a five to six year cycle, making them one of his longer-ranging attachments. So far, the only thing he hadn't changed in decades was his clothing style of choice. T-shirts, jeans, biker boots, and a leather jacket. He was a biker in every sense of the word.
But everything else? Never the same. He never stayed in one place for longer than two weeks. Good thing the world was a big place...but then again, he was two hundred twenty-two years old. He'd been pretty much everywhere.
Everywhere on Earth, anyway. Sheoul was a completely different story.
Heaving out an irritated sigh, he pushed off the bike and wandered a few steps away from it, extending his senses to scout out the nearest Harrowgate. Harrowgates were mystical travel portals invisible to all humans. Other species however, like angels, demons, shifters, and were-creatures could see and sense them. Similarly, humans couldn't be taken through Harrowgates unless they were unconscious, otherwise they would die. Bast suspected it was probably due to the sheer demonic force that dwelled in them. Aha, there was one. Only a half mile from where he stood. Shooting a wary look over his shoulder at his bike, he began to wander east toward the gate. He really didn't like this. But with the use of the Harrowgate, it would only take seconds to travel fifty miles, and then he just had to find a garage with a tow truck. Easy enough, he supposed, since he'd been to Chicago plenty of times before.
Normally he didn't repeat visits much, but Chicago was different. It was enormous and filled with oh so many things to do. Not to mention all the fun Mafia people. Arriving at the Harrowgate, he stepped beyond the shimmering curtain of energy and into the dark chamber within. As a demon, he was not only able to see and make use of Harrowgates, but he could also decipher the dozens of location symbols carved into their walls in crimson. It was Sheoulic, the universal demon language. Most inhuman creatures at least knew Sheoulic, but there were a few that didn't. Namely, heavenly angels as well as all heavenly counterparts to otherwise hellish creatures. These creatures were usually referred to the same way as their darker counterparts, but with the title of "light" added in front. One such creature was among the Mafia men that Bast liked to toy with on occasion.
Locating the correct symbol on the wall map of Chicago, he tapped it with a finger, and the gate opened into a small alley behind a Thai restaurant. Rolling his shoulders, Bast stepped out of the gate and began to walk up the street, heading roughly northwest where he knew he could find what he was looking for. As much as he told himself it was almost time for a new ride, he just couldn't shake it. He loved the cycle he had. It had been completely reliable up until now, and had scored him countless magnificent bedmates.
As a Seminus demon—a rare breed of incubus—Bast needed sex not only to remain healthy, but to survive. He needed it at least two to three times a day, which of course tended to slow his traveling time substantially. Even without the motorcycle, he'd never had any trouble scoring females thanks to the irresistible charm of his race. But hell, the bike really didn't hurt either. Females aside, the bike just fit his personality with its ever-changing flames and sleek build. Rev it the right way and it purred like a tiger.
Yep, Sebastian all over.
No way he was getting a new bike yet. Picking up his pace, he broke into a jog, still anxious about leaving it unguarded. He burst into the auto shop and—oh great. It was a man behind the desk. While he could probably work some crazy Sem magic and sweet talk his way to faster service, he really was not keen on trying to charm a male. Particularly since Sems couldn't find any sort of physical arousal or satisfaction from other males. It had to be females...and the person waiting to help him just had to be a guy. A guy who actually had a goatee, of all things.
Fabulous.
"Can I help you, sir?" the man asked, and Bast put on an air of weariness.
"Yeah, my motorcycle broke down a good ways from here," he explained, even going so far as to put a tired rasp into his voice. "Dunno what caused it, so I dunno how to fix it. I need a tow truck."
"Sure. Where's it broken down?"
"About fifty miles from here." The man paused, staring at Bast dubiously. "I told you it was a ways out."
"You walked fifty miles to get here?"
"No. I walked the last three miles," Bast explained, and it was the truth. "I hitchhiked the rest of it." Also true, though he hadn't hitched a ride with another person.
The man was convinced, and he nodded. "Ahh. Okay then. Have a seat over there and Jolie will be out in a minute."
"Thanks," Bast said gratefully, stepping away from the counter and claiming a chair in the small waiting area that was exactly ten steps away. It was a small place, but apparently the garage and repair area behind the main building was large enough to accommodate quite a few vehicles at once.
True to the claim, the woman called Jolie appeared from the back door only a minute or two after Bast sat down. He saw her come in and watched as she conferred with Goatee Guy, taking the opportunity to check her out. She was a tall woman, but well built. Clearly it was due to the work she did on vehicles. She was sturdy but curvy, her hair a wavy curtain of auburn that just reached her tailbone. Nice. She turned to face him as Goatee pointed him out.
"Hi," Bast greeted, flashing her a grin as he approached and offered out his hand for a shake. Instinctively, he tapped into his extra ability inherited from his mother to gauge her mood.
All Seminus demons, though they were all pure-blooded males regardless of the mother species, inherited certain traits from the maternal side of their parentage. In Sebastian's case, his mother had been a Pathos demon. Pathos demons, as the name suggested, specialized in reading, recognizing, and manipulating the emotions of other beings. At their best, they could work all sorts of miracles with things like depression, suicidal thoughts, drug or alcohol addiction, and damaging anger. At their worst, they could cause an emotion to have a certain adhesiveness, making it stick to the victim for months at a time, slowly eating away at the person's physical and spiritual health while all of the lost energy went straight to the demon responsible. It was how Pathos demons fed: by torturing other creatures and humans. Even other demons had a hard time working against Pathos demon magics.
"Hi," Jolie replied, taking his hand firmly and giving him a slight grin. "I'm Jolie."
"Sebastian," he introduced in return. "Friends call me Bast." Her grip was firm and solid, impressive for a human female. Her eyes were bright green, and Bast was immediately dazzled. The sweet tang of cheeriness filled Bast's senses as he examined her, and her aura sparkled with a magenta hue. She was happy, secure not only in her job, but in her life.
"Nice to meet you. Wanna go get your bike?" she asked, flashing snowy white teeth in a bigger grin.
"You're a goddess," he said, grinning back with relief. "It broke down outside city limits and it's been driving me crazy, thinking about it just sitting on the side of the road where anybody might come along and steal it."
"Well, don't worry. I'll get you to your bike, and we'll get her all fixed up."
"Thank you." He followed her out to the tow truck, climbing into the passenger seat once the vehicle was unlocked. They talked about various things along the way, mostly questions about the bike itself, how old it was, what condition it was in, etc. Every last drop of tension drained out of him when they arrived and his cycle was still exactly where he'd left it. It wasn't a popularly traveled road, so there had probably been a total of two vehicles that passed it during the last hour.
"Phew," he sighed as Jolie pulled the truck onto the shoulder. "I was convinced that it wouldn't be here by the time I got back."
Jolie just smiled knowingly at him and climbed out to load it up. Bast watched her in the rearview mirror, sinking back into the seat. Everything was going to be okay. He'd get his bike fixed, and he'd be back on his way by dusk. Friggin great way to start his visit to Chicago. What could it mean for the rest of his trip?
A/N: Tada! I know nothing really happened in this first chapter, but I don't really even know yet exactly where I'm going with the story. I know the main characters, but I don't have a sequence of events or villain or anything yet. I'm writing this off the top of my head, so if anyone out there has any suggestions—whether you're familiar with the series or not—I will welcome them with open arms!
Even with its lack of events, I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter. Bast is a really funny character, and I think you'll enjoy the other two main characters as well. I'm going to try to update ASAP; maybe I'll be able to think up a chapter and get it posted sometime next week if I get some reviews. ;)
And now, for your endless entertainment, I give you...outtakes!
Outtake 1:
"Well this sucks," Sebastian muttered under his breath, halfheartedly kicking the front tire of his motorcycle, which had completely broken down just when he was about fifty miles from his next destination.
Instantly, the bike flipped backwards with an unusual anti-gravity effect and slid weightlessly into the ditch at the side of the road. Bast just stared in utter bewilderment, eyes wide.
"Cut!" shouted the director, eyeing the strange sight and looking exasperated. Amelia was just trying not to laugh along with Tray.
"Someone wanna tell me what's up with my bike?" Bast asked, turning to aim a suspicious glare at his youngest brother, Trayvon.
Tray blinked, feigning innocence. "What? I didn't do anything."
Travis, the middle brother, snorted. "You replaced his motorcycle with a blow-up replica."
Tray shot his brother a look. "Hey! Whose side are you on, anyway?"
"Where is my bike, Tray?" Bast demanded, taking a threatening step toward him.
"It's exactly where you left it. I brought in the balloon and told the prop guys not to worry about bringing the real one in."
Bast grumbled irritably as he stormed out the door to get his bike.
Outtake 2:
Arriving at the Harrowgate, he went to step into it only to crash headlong into a solid pane of elegant, rippled glass.
"Damn it Trayvon!" Bast snarled, whirling to face his cackling brother.
Outtake 3:
Locating the correct symbol on the wall map of Chicago, he tapped it with a finger, and the gate opened into a small alley behind a Thai restaurant, where a huge green sluglike monster stood waiting to be discovered.
"Surprise!" Roz proclaimed, following up with her signature raspy chuckle. Bast yelped and lept back, stumbling over a sound cable in the process.
"Cut!" the director called.
This time, Amelia wasn't fighting at all, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. "It's been years since that movie came out. I love Monsters, Inc.!"
"The heck is she doing here?" Bast asked as he untangled the cable from his legs, now laughing a little too.
"I think she's one of the extras. Good for a few Sheoul scenes, you know," Travis provided.
"Did I get the part?" Roz asked.
"Tell you what," the director said with a sigh. "Promise not to show up in the wrong scenes anymore and you can be a Sheoul extra."
"Thank you!" Roz said happily, slithering off the set and out of the studio.
"Is this gonna be a thing?" the director asked the author, who just grinned.
"Probably. I'm a real stickler for pop culture references."
"Moving on," the director said.
Outtake 4:
No way he was getting a new bike yet. Picking up his pace, he broke into a jog, still anxious about leaving it unguarded. He burst into the auto shop and his feet flew out from under him. He cried out in surprise, arms flailing helplessly as he fell, a grunt whooshing out of him as his back hit the floor.
"Cut," the director said tiredly, shaking his head. He turned to confront Tray, but blinked when he was found to be absent. "Where is he?"
"Bathroom break," Amelia replied as she went to help Bast to his feet. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Bast mumbled. "Friggin clean-up crew."
"Sorry," the janitor apologized, looking sheepish.
Outtake 5:
He saw her come in and watched as she conferred with Goatee Guy, taking the opportunity to check her out. She was a tall woman, but well built. Clearly it was due to the work she did on vehicles. She was sturdy but curvy, her hair a wavy curtain of auburn that just reached her tailbone. Nice. She turned to face him as Goatee pointed him out.
"I wouldn't be licking that floor if I were you, Casanova," she said with a sly grin.
Bast just blinked at her. "Huh?"
"Wait, is that not my line?" Jolie asked, blushing slightly as she turned to glance at the film crew.
"Now someone's messing with the script?" the director grumbled, glaring daggers at Tray and Amelia, who were both laughing.
"Was that really necessary?" Travis asked.
"No, but it sure was funny," Amelia said between giggles. Either she was in cahoots with Tray, or she just found his antics too entertaining to put a stop to them.
"I think we're done for today," said the director, rising from his chair and gesturing for the crew to turn off the equipment.