"I called you, but you could not look around."
Arc 2 "Quiet Riot", Chapter 1/5
The children danced ahead of her, and she felt her heart swell.
A group of six Mantis young were running further on the dirt paths through the Village, laughing and singing to themselves while she lagged behind. She took it upon herself to escort them, past the shellwood buildings held together with fraying rope, past the pikes in the earth piercing through the skulls of beasts.
The children were paying no mind to any of this; they were too distracted by the sparklers in their hands.
They were safe, of course. Although the sparks flying off of them were incredibly hot, their small mass meant they had very little thermal energy to transmit, so they wouldn't burn their hands or their surroundings. Just in case, she'd also instructed them on fire safety and to not directly touch the burning rods themselves.
From underneath a white hood with dancing silver seams, with eyes that beamed sapphire electric blue, she smiled as she watched them play with the shining sparklers. She had made them herself; she could have designed all manner of toys for the children, but she had chosen sparklers because non-magical fire was so seldom seen in Hallownest. She handed them out and lit them, knowing the children would ask questions. Questions.
The other kingdoms of Hallownest called the Mantises savages and barbarians, but she knew things didn't have to be that way. The mind must grow alongside the body; her Tribe strengthened themselves without understanding, and Hallownest poured over their studies while their bodies atrophied.
It was the choice of the ignorant and the stubborn to be seen in such a light, but the children were adaptable. The next generation could excel where hers had failed.
So, she had started up something of a daycare for the Mantis Tribe. A school, where they once only had training grounds. And she could not deny the warmth blooming in her chest, seeing these children dance along the paths with such excitement in their eyes, such curiosity about the world around them.
Something squelched on the side of the road, and one of the young stumbled back, crying out and dropping his sparklers into the dirt, where they fizzled out. Her eyes darted over.
A bundle of mushrooms had risen out of the earth, thin tentacles of fungi waving around in distaste. It reared back, and spewed out a spore that floated towards the startled child, still sitting in the dirt helplessly. The other children stumbled away screaming, knowing what was about to happen.
Her hand flew out from under her white cloak.
He cowered with his bladed arms over his head, waiting for the explosive spore to hit him. But when it never did, he opened his eyes, only for them to widen, his breath taken away.
The explosive spore had been frozen in mid-air, surrounded by an ethereal sphere of sigils and seals, the pale white glow dancing across him like Lumaflies in a globe, serene moonlight just scarcely away from his face. The pale light reflected in his eyes.
The spore detonated within, and the white turned to tangerine.
Flames licked the walls of the sealed space, but never escaped them, contained safely within. Orange warmth washed over the child's face; the explosion itself sounded so muted, like it was underwater.
She had walked over, waving her hand again; an electric bolt shot from her clawtips, slicing the mushroom creature apart with such force that its remains were left steaming. She barely spared it a glance.
"Are you alright, child?" She knelt down, helping him to his feet and wiping off the dirt that clung to him. He said nothing, his eyes still lingering on the burnt remains of the mushroom thing, the smell of ash and static filling the air.
"Y-Yes, ma'am," he nodded. "Um… What was that thing?"
"Ah, that creature is known as a Sporg," she explained, projecting her voice to the other children so they could hear this lesson as well. "I had figured they were all purged from the Village grounds, but this one appears to have slipped through the cracks. You see, that explosive orb it launched was actually a cluster of its spores."
"Spores?"
"The cluster is formed by a hardened outer shell, and then filled with spores floating through a volatile liquid – not unlike an embryo and the amniotic fluid of an egg." As she explained, she reached down, picking up the sparkler that the child dropped. "Of course, the difference with Sporg spore clusters is that they explode; when the fluid compound within is exposed to air, it begins to combust. The pressure within the outer shell grows, until…"
She snapped her fingers, and sparks flew, reigniting the sparkler. She handed it off to the speechless child.
"Boom."
The other Mantis children cheered, laughing and giggling to themselves. They loved it when the 'Witch' played her magic tricks for them. She herded them back along the path; they could talk more as they walked to their destination.
"But…" The child continued, gazing into his sparkler, before blinking the afterimages out of his eyes. "Why do they do that to attack us?"
She felt her heart swell with every question they asked. To gain a deeper understanding of the world; this was her calling. Her purpose. Where the other adults would shrug their shoulders and tell them 'it's like that because it just is', she was happy to answer their endless questions.
"Because it explodes so violently, the spore cluster holds a dual purpose," she started. "The explosion causes the fluid within to evaporate, allowing the Sporg's spores to disperse across a greater range and increase the chances of its offspring's survival. They appear to attack us because they are heat-seeking, as warmer environments are better suited for fungal growth."
The other children listened closely, pouring over her every word. She wondered how much of this lecture they'd remember the next day.
"Of course, this explosive 'attack' also serves to ward off predators; when the cluster hits something, the outer shell is torn open, aerating the volatile contents within and accelerating the detonation through a chain reaction. Killing its foes while propagating its children in one fell swoop; the instinct of all nature, I suppose."
Propagating its children.
Of the six Mantis young surrounding her, not one of them was of her own blood. Not yet.
They'd reached their destination, a larger building nestled away in a corner of the Village. She'd designed it to reflect the Teacher's Archives in the Fog Canyon, albeit without the acid. Since few other Mantises were interested in what the Tribe's Library had to offer, she'd relegated herself as its sole curator, and focused more on the little ones who would come here.
The children stopped outside, watching as she approached. Placing both of her hands on the double, vault-heavy doors, she pushed both of them open, the light of the Village beaming into the chamber within.
Gasps of awe surrounded her.
It was a circular room, leatherbound and handmade books neatly filling the shelves that surrounded a space in the epicenter. In the clearing sat a large table, plush chairs and colorful blankets scattered along the floor around it. Above them, the second floor consisted of small, cozy reading nooks huddled into alcoves in the walls, connected by walkway bridges that stretched over the main opening in the center. Vines of Lumafly jars dangled from the bridges and the ceiling, the glasses clinking against each other in silence.
As soon as she closed the doors behind her, she waved her hand, the air vibrating around it; the space darkened again, and the children gasped as they reared their heads back. The ceiling was painted in a mural of spirals and sequences, faces and visions of history etched above, using an orange glowing paint that she'd discovered when mixing the geletanous flesh of Umoas and certain mushroom secretions. Bright, neon-tangerine universes exploded above their heads.
One of the children approached her, having to rear her head back to look all the way up at her. From the heavens, the orange glow reflected in her innocent eyes.
"Did you make this all for us, Miss Aenema?"
...
–bzzt–
"–This villain was a ruthless, masked conqueror,
with aspirations to dominate the universe."
–bzztzt–
...
Several years later…
...
...
...
...
...
"CRIME GROUPS IN UPROAR FOLLOWING ARCHIVES RAID"
"WAR WAGES THROUGH CITY STREETS; DEATH COUNTS UP TO 17 IN MERE DAYS"
"HEADLESS BODY FOUND FLOATING IN RIVER; MAFIA TIES LIKELY, SAYS CITY GUARD"
"EIGHT MOBSTERS FOUND GUILTY FOLLOWING ARSON ATTACK; ALL FACE LIFE SENTENCE"
"NOBLEBUG AND WIFE SLAIN IN HOME; CHILD ORPHANED"
"SIX MORE LIVES CLAIMED IN UNDERGROUND WAR"
"INVESTIGATIONS INTO TEACHER'S ARCHIVE RAID INCONCLUSIVE, SAYS CITY GUARD"
"TOP TEN TIPS AND TRICKS TO KEEP YOURSELF SAFE AMIDST CRIME SPIKE"
"DOZENS OF 'ARTIFACTS' FOUND MISSING FROM PRIVATE VAULTS AS BODIES CONTINUE TO FALL"
"ESTIMATED 90 MILLION GEO IN DAMAGES FROM MAFIA WAR; WHITE PALACE DECLINES TO COMMENT"
...
People aren't afraid of the dark, they're afraid of what's in it.
Rain poured over Lenny as he ran through the City alleys, clutching a sheet of Weaver paper to his chest. Weaving between garbage cans and large supply wheelbarrows, the small ant could barely see in the darkness. The Lumafly lanterns were scarce back here.
Everything was dark. Any kind of monster or killer could be lying in wait around any corner. They were everywhere these days.
And Lenny charged headfirst into the shadows.
Puddles splashed underfoot as he gasped for breath, trying to shield the paper from the rain with the cloak that was draped over the little winged ant's shoulders. This was the region of the City that they operated in. In a blackened den like this, surely Lenny would find–!
He stilled. Voices ahead.
"–Dammit, I haven't been able to sleep in days. Everything's just exploded. The City's like an underground warzone now, even the civilians can't ignore it. It's a nightmare for every Family."
Lenny peered around the corner. In an opening, in the dull and flickering light of a dying Lumafly Lantern, he could see two hulking, cloaked figures, huddling under an awning. Pinned to the breasts of their cloaks were small emblems – yellow gemstones.
"Tell me about it. I used to be stationed at the Tower for security before it got stormed by that… that girl, and her flaming circus troupe, remember? Got demoted after that, and since then, two of the people I used to work with have been found dead. I shook their hands, we talked about our families. Now they're splatter on the walkway. Oh, Gods above."
"Get ahold of yourself. It comes with the job."
"I know, but still… When does it end?"
Lenny ducked behind a nearby bin. Rain poured over him, no awning or cloak to protect him from the frigid, heartless chill in the air. Pulling the papers from his chest, careful to make sure they didn't get wet, he double-checked the symbol on top.
It was a sketch of a gemstone, labeled "TOPAZ – CONFIDENTIAL".
Lenny stepped out of his hiding place and into the light.
The two bulking mobsters immediately tensed and turned to face him, their glare burning through the shadows. "Huh? What are you doing here, kid?"
Clutching the papers in his shaking hands, Lenny inched closer. "Y-You're… You're Topaz, aren't you?" Eyeing the yellow gemstone badges, he added, "Walsh's family, right?"
Exchanging glances, the thugs walked closer. Lenny stumbled back as they towered over him, their silhouettes in the Lumafly light hiding their scowls. He was backed into a corner, rain pelting down on him as the mobsters stepped out from under the awning, chilling him. It was too late to back out now.
"What business is it to you?"
Lenny cowered, but he stood strong despite his shaking knees. He held up the paper to them. "H-How do I find them? I… I want to join."
The giant, shadowy figures blinked, their animosity simmering in confusion. "Join? What, you wanna join the Clan?"
"No… Not the Clan. Quiet Riot."
A pause. One of the thugs snatched the papers out of Lenny's hands with such force that he stumbled to the wet cobblestone, scraping his elbow.
He wouldn't cry. He couldn't cry.
Everything seemed to still around Lenny's frantic heartbeat as the Topaz grunts scanned the documents, their eyes widening, their claws tightening around the papers enough to tear. Lenny couldn't even stand up, laying against the ground as the rain washed over him like an icy blanket.
"Wh-These–!" The mobster stammered, before throwing the Weaver-silk documents to the ground, where they soaked up the rain and atrophied. "These are top secret – for the Captain's eyes only! We could get killed just for reading these!"
The other one grabbed Lenny by the neck, slamming him against the wall. A knife flew from the thug's cloak and pressed against his neck.
"I don't give a shit if you're a kid. Where the hell did you get this?!"
–!
Something shifted in the shadows.
Something blasted through the air.
From a pitch-black corner of the alley, an electric bolt shot across, vaporizing the raindrops it touched. It sliced the thug's arm clean off, so much energy behind the blow that the stump was still steaming.
He screamed, dropping Lenny to the ground as he scrambled back, clutching where his arm just was. No hemo was spilled; the sheer heat had cauterized the wound instantly. The second mobster spun around, searching for their unseen attacker, reaching down to grab the knife that the first one had dropped to defend himself.
Then everything started to float.
The wheelbarrows, the trash bins, the giant shell crates, everything with a metallic sheen began to drift upwards, like gravity had given up on it. The last standing mobster spun around, pointing his knife at everything that moved, hyperventilating.
Whatever supernatural, invisible pull was causing this phenomenon had caught onto his knife, and the mobster couldn't react quickly enough to keep himself from slitting his own throat.
The first, dismembered thug tried to push himself to his feet with his one remaining arm, only to slump back to the ground in agony. Everything shook.
Lenny watched as the earth beneath them began to rumble, cracks growing like spiderwebs across the cobblestone alley road, widening around the collapsed thug. The earth itself opened its maw and swallowed him whole, rainwater pooling into the gap as the thug screamed, thrashing and splashing for any grip he could get with his remaining arm, only to slip deeper.
The other thug's bleeding corpse slipped in, landing on top of the first one, slamming him back into the pooling water. He was drowning in the sinkhole.
And then the world's maw snapped shut, and the mobster's screams were silenced forever.
It was like a trick knot had come undone, the tension broke. The floating metal collapsed back to the ground with a cacophony of clangs, Lenny grabbing his head with his hands to try and hide. Beneath him, the cracks in the earth were mending, sealing over the tomb of both thugs.
For a moment, the screams, the splattering blood, the thrashing, everything was only in his mind. Everything was silent.
Except for someone else's breathing from the shadows.
"...These streets run along a minor fault line," a woman's voice echoed through the alley. Lenny's head darted around; she seemed to come from everywhere at once. "A few artificial seismic pulses, and the earth itself turns to clay in your palm."
Lenny stared at the hemo-stained blade on the ground; the only remnant of what happened here. Those two were erased completely.
Whoever was watching him, seemed to notice his attention on the knife; or maybe she could read minds, too. "Electromagnets. Electrical currents carry a weak magnetic field, which can be manipulated to control ferromagnetic metals, such as the iron in that blade."
"W-What?" Lenny could barely hear himself mumble. Under the only Lumafly lantern in the dark alley, he was alone and cornered. "Who… Who are you?"
Silence. Was he hearing footsteps, or was he imagining them?
"...I overheard you mention Quiet Riot. Why do you trouble yourself with such things, child?"
His head darted up, and he spotted the classified Topaz documents on the ground; having soaked in rainwater, they were all but destroyed now. "I-It's a mercenary group, right? A band of warriors… I-I wanna join!"
"Don't be foolish," the voice chided. "Did this encounter not make it apparent enough? This life is dangerous; you are still young. You need not walk such a dark path. Have you any family to return to?"
Lenny paused. Reed went back to Dirtmouth as soon as the White Palace got all they needed from him. He left me behind. He… He doesn't care about me.
"N-No. I have nobody. B-But, I wanna be strong, so I won't need anybody."
The silence killed him slowly. Something shifted in the dark.
He couldn't even see her silhouette from the shadows. All he could feel was this towering presence, even taller than the two thugs were, and she was getting closer. Nothing but the inky blackness, and the overwhelming instinct to run.
Then, out from the shadows, emerged two gleaming metal hands, held out to him in a gesture of peace, as if comforting a wild animal.
Metal hands.
"One thing you will learn with age, child," she whispered to him, "is that few can survive without someone by their side."
...
–bzztzt–
"–Villains who possess supernatural abilities–
Villains who were the personification of carnage."
–bzzt–
...
Chapter name and summary are a reference to Why Can't We be Friends? by War.
Other musical references in this chapter include:
Ænema by TOOL
Quiet Riot (artist)
okay i KNOW i said i was on hiatus now but i REALLY REALLY wanted to make this chapter cause 1) this next arc of MR is basically finished with planning and my self-imposed hiatus is the only thing keeping me from writing it, and 2) it introduces probably my favorite character I've made for this series :) like oh my god I've been planning and teasing about Aenema for SO FUCKING LONG i really hope u all like her
I'm still working on the revisions for old Ethno chapters, but it's a slow process cause it's summer now and it's way too easy to be apathetic and lethargic. only got the first 2 done so far. I may need to reconsider how I approach it to speed up the process a bit. Also for planning Act 2 of Ethno, i'm mostly done with it? There's a bunch of details I need to iron out but it's a complete story from start to finish. And there's less chapters for Act 2 than there are left of MR, so honestly expect Valleri to be getting a bit more love than Chance for a while
please leave a comment and thank you for reading!