"Æseri! Can't you at least *try* to get used to the idea? You *aren't*
that great, you know!" Staunt ran after Æseri, Yellow pendant bouncing off
his chest and flying back and forth. "I'm not that great either!"
"I noticed!" Æseri snapped. "And I'm so glad *you* did as well! Why are you such an ass?"
"I'm not an ass!" Staunt snarled. "Would you at least give me a chance? You said you'd help me!"
"Well, mister I-think-I'll-just-suck-up-and-make-Jen-think-I'm-the- greatest, I don't think you need any more help! You're just fine on your own!" Æseri snaled back at Staunt, firing an Energy Shots attack at him.
Staunt dodged the Energy Shots easily and countered with a Fist Missile, knocking Æseri down and breaking his left foreleg and right arm. "It won't do you well to fight with me, Æseri," he said coolly. "Before I joined the Devils I was a Rank-S tournament fighter. You have nothing on me."
Æseri just stared at him. "A Rank-S tournament fighter? Why did you leave the biz? You were probably famous!"
"I was famous. It went to my head and in all honesty I ended up depressed. I just couldn't take any of it anymore. But you don't really get it, do you?"
"No. I don't."
"Maybe some day you'll get it through your thick head that being famous isn't about fun and games."
"I sincerely doubt that will ever happen." Æseri grinned slightly. "But if you're a Rank-S tournament fighter, then what does that leave for Jen and Fang and Oliver and the Triat?"
"Major 4…" Staunt shrugged. "Knowing Lucifer, probably the Legend Cup as well. He's one tough old man."
"I'll say…" Æseri tried to sit up but collapsed as pain shot through his whole body. "D'ya think we could go to the infirmary on the way to the mess hall? I'm in a tiny, tiny bit of intense extreme agony…"
Staunt grinned and lifted Æseri gently from the ground. "I guess this means we're not biting each other any more?"
"What do ya mean by that?"
"Well, I think calling us friends would be a bit over the top. Knowing you." Staunt shrugged. "I can't really consider you to be a friend if you think I'm an ass."
"Okay. Works for me. You're probably right anyway." Æseri sighed. "Let's go, okay?"
"Let's." Staunt jogged off to the infirmary, carrying Æseri in one of his oversized hands. "Don't fall apart before we get there."
"Mmmf," Æseri mumbled. "Just go."
**********
"Why is he here again?" Falon asked Staunt coldly. "He's already been here this week. Come back on Monday if you have to have him here."
"It's my fault," Staunt said miserably. "I lost my temper and attacked him. I must really be cracking up, I'm looking to you for sympathy. Oh well. Lord Falon, I'm afraid that if you don't admit Æseri to the infirmary, I'll lose my temper and attack you the way I did him."
"I'm not afraid of your empty threats, boy," Falon snapped.
"He's got a broken leg, a nearly shattered arm and who knows how many other injuries. I was a Rank-S tournament fighter before I joined the Devils, Lord Falon. Do you really want me as an enemy? I don't think that wearing the Amber will protect you for long." Staunt grinned. "What do you think, Lord Falon? Will you patch up good old Æseri for us?" he laughed and put Æseri down on the nearest bed. "You'd better."
"Fine, fine," Falon muttered. "I suppose I'd better fix him up anyway."
"Oh, and by the way," Staunt called from the next room, "If Jen tries to bribe you into killing him, tell her to talk to me. She isn't too fond of our centaurian friend, I dare say." Then there was nothing. He was gone.
"I guess we'd best patch you up," Falon grumbled. "I hate this job, you know."
Æseri sighed softly. "I would too. Is it really as thankless a task as I think?"
"No."
"Really?"
"It's even worse."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
It was Falon's turn to sigh. "Don't be sorry. I asked for the job and I got it. Besides, I do it better than anyone else."
"I'm so sure of that." Æseri laughed. "You aren't too bad, but with the training, my little brother could do a better job than you. At least, it seems like that sometimes. No offense, of course. It's just that he's used to thankless tasks."
"So am I…" Falon sighed again.
"You're sighing too much," Æseri said sharply. "It can't be good for you."
"Oh, shut up!" Falon snapped. He splashed a couple of drops of chloroform on a handkerchief and dropped in on Æseri's face.
**********
Æseri's vision swam around him. Colors ran into each other, bleeding like colors in newly dyed cloth. Shapes bled in and out of focus. Inanimate objects moved about. Rocks danced and Æseri's spear writhed like a snake as he tried desparately to get some help from the others… but they couldn't understand what he was telling them.
Æseri shook his head, trying to figure out just what was happening and to try to clear his head a little. It felt totally stuffed up, like it was going to burst or something. Æseri felt confused—he didn't recall getting stoned on hallucinogens any time recently. But here he was, in the middle of a horrible fantasy world.
Something was walking toward him. Something tall and thin and almost humanoid-ish. He looked closer. It was a tall, spindly thing, about eight feet in height, with long curved talons growing from its wrists instead of hands. It seemed poised almost precariously on its two legs, which were overly thin like the rest of it. Its feet were like three-pronged forks and left no prints in the moist earth.
Everyone around them had disappeared from the area. It was just Æseri and the… demon. If that was indeed what the thing was. It walked toward Æseri, its arms outstretched, long curved talons extending, its flat face with its triangular ears, slit mouth and empty gold eyes expressionless. The gray skin seemed to resonate with some sort of sound just beyond Æseri's spectrum of hearing.
And Æseri looked into the blank eyes. For a second he saw nothing, then in the back of his mind he saw a single, huge eye. Almost not there, but painfully obvious and clear, like something sick, twisted and totally unshakable… like the end of the world or something. The eye glowed a baleleful red, pulsating sickly as though to pop right out of its socket. The center was an even sicker and brighter red than the rest of the eye, spinning into its own oblivion…
His head pounded. His vision swam even more than it had been before, then became painfully clear. The red eye burned itself into his mind, forcing through the gaps in his mental barriers. He couldn't see anything but it… couldn't run… couldn't hide…
**********
Then he was sitting on the grass eating lunch. He wasn't even sure what he was eating, but whatever it was, it was delicious. The sun cast warm rays of light over Æseri and his company—he was sitting with Staunt, Fang, Jen and Falon. Jen wasn't throwing anyone around, and that in itself made the whole scene seem quiet.
A bird flew into Æseri's face, fell and hit the ground. Æseri picked it up and set it on his shoulder. The bird chriped happily and grabbed a bite of his sandwich. Æseri grinned and patted the bird on the head.
Jen arched an eyebrow. "Pet bird? I never saw you as a bird person, Æseri."
Æseri shrugged. "I don't care. He's kind of cute, you know. Who brought the food? It's great." He grinned and stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.
Fang rolled his eyes. "You did. Did you forget already?"
Æseri felt his face heat up. "Uh, I guess. I'm glad I can't blush. Don't hold this against me, okay?"
"Fine, fine." Jen turned back to her sandwich. "I have to admit, this is good. What did you use?"
Æseri rolled his eyes. "Worm liver."
Jen laughed. "Seriously, though."
"Just a little of everything I could find. Well, everything worth eating, that is." He grinned. "I don't know if this was a lucky fluke, or if I have a talent for the culinary. But pray for the latter, maybe I'll be your chef."
"I'll think about it." Jen scratched Æseri's pet bird's head. "What are you going to name your bird?"
"Raul." Æseri never found out what Jen thought of the name, because at that moment a girl came charging down the hillside. She was about average height and of lean build, with brown hair tied behind her head and glasses nearly falling off her face as she ran. "KIIIIIIILIIIIIIIIIIIIIMAAAAAAAAANJAAAAAAAAAAAAROOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"
**********
Æseri walked through a fake wall and into his old bedroom at home. Everything was exactly as it was when he'd left so long ago. He looked through everything he owned… the old books, the toys he'd played with as a baby and never gotten rid of, the huge masses of training equipment that never worked… he felt a nostalgic smile creep across his face.
"I can't believe I'm back home already," he whispered. "I never thought I'd see this place again. Well, not alive anyway."
"And you never will again," said a cold voice from behind him. "You left us, Æseri. Abandoned all of us when you knew that your paycheck was the only way we could eat properly, with Mom sick and Dad unemployed. I had to take your job… and couldn't do it. I got fired yesterday, Æseri. And now we have no livelihood." His brother glared at him. "For all you care, I could join the circus as a rare monster. What would you care?"
"I was too young for that job. So were you. And you'd have been able to eat and take care of Mom if Dad weren't such a slacker and drunkard. You know that." Æseri glared back. "I always thought you were the mature one, Lanciro. Your rare blood makes you think you're so great now, is that what it is?"
"I never asked to be a Blue Thunder. And I never asked to have a brother like you. Descendants of Thor… huh." Lanciro's glare grew frosty. "If that were true, I'd tell you to KISS. MY. SKINNY. ASS. You're an idiot and you know it. Get out of my home."
"Join the Blue Devils if you're looking for a job. They'd take you."
"If they took you, big brother, they'll take anyone." Lanciro spat on the ground. "So kindly keep your abnormally large nose out of my business. Now get out of here."
Æseri turned and walked out of the room, tears beginning to trickle down his face. How had everything gone so wrong? He'd wanted to help his family, not toss them even further into poverty…
"It's not my fault!" he said aloud.
"Yes, it is," Lanciro's voice came from the room. "It is and you know it. Go *home*, Æseri. Nobody wants you here."
"I noticed!" Æseri snapped. "And I'm so glad *you* did as well! Why are you such an ass?"
"I'm not an ass!" Staunt snarled. "Would you at least give me a chance? You said you'd help me!"
"Well, mister I-think-I'll-just-suck-up-and-make-Jen-think-I'm-the- greatest, I don't think you need any more help! You're just fine on your own!" Æseri snaled back at Staunt, firing an Energy Shots attack at him.
Staunt dodged the Energy Shots easily and countered with a Fist Missile, knocking Æseri down and breaking his left foreleg and right arm. "It won't do you well to fight with me, Æseri," he said coolly. "Before I joined the Devils I was a Rank-S tournament fighter. You have nothing on me."
Æseri just stared at him. "A Rank-S tournament fighter? Why did you leave the biz? You were probably famous!"
"I was famous. It went to my head and in all honesty I ended up depressed. I just couldn't take any of it anymore. But you don't really get it, do you?"
"No. I don't."
"Maybe some day you'll get it through your thick head that being famous isn't about fun and games."
"I sincerely doubt that will ever happen." Æseri grinned slightly. "But if you're a Rank-S tournament fighter, then what does that leave for Jen and Fang and Oliver and the Triat?"
"Major 4…" Staunt shrugged. "Knowing Lucifer, probably the Legend Cup as well. He's one tough old man."
"I'll say…" Æseri tried to sit up but collapsed as pain shot through his whole body. "D'ya think we could go to the infirmary on the way to the mess hall? I'm in a tiny, tiny bit of intense extreme agony…"
Staunt grinned and lifted Æseri gently from the ground. "I guess this means we're not biting each other any more?"
"What do ya mean by that?"
"Well, I think calling us friends would be a bit over the top. Knowing you." Staunt shrugged. "I can't really consider you to be a friend if you think I'm an ass."
"Okay. Works for me. You're probably right anyway." Æseri sighed. "Let's go, okay?"
"Let's." Staunt jogged off to the infirmary, carrying Æseri in one of his oversized hands. "Don't fall apart before we get there."
"Mmmf," Æseri mumbled. "Just go."
**********
"Why is he here again?" Falon asked Staunt coldly. "He's already been here this week. Come back on Monday if you have to have him here."
"It's my fault," Staunt said miserably. "I lost my temper and attacked him. I must really be cracking up, I'm looking to you for sympathy. Oh well. Lord Falon, I'm afraid that if you don't admit Æseri to the infirmary, I'll lose my temper and attack you the way I did him."
"I'm not afraid of your empty threats, boy," Falon snapped.
"He's got a broken leg, a nearly shattered arm and who knows how many other injuries. I was a Rank-S tournament fighter before I joined the Devils, Lord Falon. Do you really want me as an enemy? I don't think that wearing the Amber will protect you for long." Staunt grinned. "What do you think, Lord Falon? Will you patch up good old Æseri for us?" he laughed and put Æseri down on the nearest bed. "You'd better."
"Fine, fine," Falon muttered. "I suppose I'd better fix him up anyway."
"Oh, and by the way," Staunt called from the next room, "If Jen tries to bribe you into killing him, tell her to talk to me. She isn't too fond of our centaurian friend, I dare say." Then there was nothing. He was gone.
"I guess we'd best patch you up," Falon grumbled. "I hate this job, you know."
Æseri sighed softly. "I would too. Is it really as thankless a task as I think?"
"No."
"Really?"
"It's even worse."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
It was Falon's turn to sigh. "Don't be sorry. I asked for the job and I got it. Besides, I do it better than anyone else."
"I'm so sure of that." Æseri laughed. "You aren't too bad, but with the training, my little brother could do a better job than you. At least, it seems like that sometimes. No offense, of course. It's just that he's used to thankless tasks."
"So am I…" Falon sighed again.
"You're sighing too much," Æseri said sharply. "It can't be good for you."
"Oh, shut up!" Falon snapped. He splashed a couple of drops of chloroform on a handkerchief and dropped in on Æseri's face.
**********
Æseri's vision swam around him. Colors ran into each other, bleeding like colors in newly dyed cloth. Shapes bled in and out of focus. Inanimate objects moved about. Rocks danced and Æseri's spear writhed like a snake as he tried desparately to get some help from the others… but they couldn't understand what he was telling them.
Æseri shook his head, trying to figure out just what was happening and to try to clear his head a little. It felt totally stuffed up, like it was going to burst or something. Æseri felt confused—he didn't recall getting stoned on hallucinogens any time recently. But here he was, in the middle of a horrible fantasy world.
Something was walking toward him. Something tall and thin and almost humanoid-ish. He looked closer. It was a tall, spindly thing, about eight feet in height, with long curved talons growing from its wrists instead of hands. It seemed poised almost precariously on its two legs, which were overly thin like the rest of it. Its feet were like three-pronged forks and left no prints in the moist earth.
Everyone around them had disappeared from the area. It was just Æseri and the… demon. If that was indeed what the thing was. It walked toward Æseri, its arms outstretched, long curved talons extending, its flat face with its triangular ears, slit mouth and empty gold eyes expressionless. The gray skin seemed to resonate with some sort of sound just beyond Æseri's spectrum of hearing.
And Æseri looked into the blank eyes. For a second he saw nothing, then in the back of his mind he saw a single, huge eye. Almost not there, but painfully obvious and clear, like something sick, twisted and totally unshakable… like the end of the world or something. The eye glowed a baleleful red, pulsating sickly as though to pop right out of its socket. The center was an even sicker and brighter red than the rest of the eye, spinning into its own oblivion…
His head pounded. His vision swam even more than it had been before, then became painfully clear. The red eye burned itself into his mind, forcing through the gaps in his mental barriers. He couldn't see anything but it… couldn't run… couldn't hide…
**********
Then he was sitting on the grass eating lunch. He wasn't even sure what he was eating, but whatever it was, it was delicious. The sun cast warm rays of light over Æseri and his company—he was sitting with Staunt, Fang, Jen and Falon. Jen wasn't throwing anyone around, and that in itself made the whole scene seem quiet.
A bird flew into Æseri's face, fell and hit the ground. Æseri picked it up and set it on his shoulder. The bird chriped happily and grabbed a bite of his sandwich. Æseri grinned and patted the bird on the head.
Jen arched an eyebrow. "Pet bird? I never saw you as a bird person, Æseri."
Æseri shrugged. "I don't care. He's kind of cute, you know. Who brought the food? It's great." He grinned and stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.
Fang rolled his eyes. "You did. Did you forget already?"
Æseri felt his face heat up. "Uh, I guess. I'm glad I can't blush. Don't hold this against me, okay?"
"Fine, fine." Jen turned back to her sandwich. "I have to admit, this is good. What did you use?"
Æseri rolled his eyes. "Worm liver."
Jen laughed. "Seriously, though."
"Just a little of everything I could find. Well, everything worth eating, that is." He grinned. "I don't know if this was a lucky fluke, or if I have a talent for the culinary. But pray for the latter, maybe I'll be your chef."
"I'll think about it." Jen scratched Æseri's pet bird's head. "What are you going to name your bird?"
"Raul." Æseri never found out what Jen thought of the name, because at that moment a girl came charging down the hillside. She was about average height and of lean build, with brown hair tied behind her head and glasses nearly falling off her face as she ran. "KIIIIIIILIIIIIIIIIIIIIMAAAAAAAAANJAAAAAAAAAAAAROOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"
**********
Æseri walked through a fake wall and into his old bedroom at home. Everything was exactly as it was when he'd left so long ago. He looked through everything he owned… the old books, the toys he'd played with as a baby and never gotten rid of, the huge masses of training equipment that never worked… he felt a nostalgic smile creep across his face.
"I can't believe I'm back home already," he whispered. "I never thought I'd see this place again. Well, not alive anyway."
"And you never will again," said a cold voice from behind him. "You left us, Æseri. Abandoned all of us when you knew that your paycheck was the only way we could eat properly, with Mom sick and Dad unemployed. I had to take your job… and couldn't do it. I got fired yesterday, Æseri. And now we have no livelihood." His brother glared at him. "For all you care, I could join the circus as a rare monster. What would you care?"
"I was too young for that job. So were you. And you'd have been able to eat and take care of Mom if Dad weren't such a slacker and drunkard. You know that." Æseri glared back. "I always thought you were the mature one, Lanciro. Your rare blood makes you think you're so great now, is that what it is?"
"I never asked to be a Blue Thunder. And I never asked to have a brother like you. Descendants of Thor… huh." Lanciro's glare grew frosty. "If that were true, I'd tell you to KISS. MY. SKINNY. ASS. You're an idiot and you know it. Get out of my home."
"Join the Blue Devils if you're looking for a job. They'd take you."
"If they took you, big brother, they'll take anyone." Lanciro spat on the ground. "So kindly keep your abnormally large nose out of my business. Now get out of here."
Æseri turned and walked out of the room, tears beginning to trickle down his face. How had everything gone so wrong? He'd wanted to help his family, not toss them even further into poverty…
"It's not my fault!" he said aloud.
"Yes, it is," Lanciro's voice came from the room. "It is and you know it. Go *home*, Æseri. Nobody wants you here."