It was a cloudy day in Los Angeles, and Marcy Wu decided to spend her after-school time at the library, studying for her PSAT. Though she is only thirteen and does not have to worry about college for a while, she was one to believe it was never too early to prepare. Marcy was deep into her studies — jotting down answers on the practice sheet — when her phone vibrated. "Huh?" She put her book and pen down to take a look. Oh, maybe "Vagabondia Chronicles: Tactics II" finally downloaded!
She picked up her phone to see if the sequel to the mobile-exclusive RTS spin-off of what she considered to be the greatest JRPG franchise of all time finally downloaded. After so long. I can't wait to start playing. Considering how many megabytes it was in size, she was sure that she would not play it until tomorrow. But instead, it was a text from Sasha. A response to that picture of a unique ladybug she found in her book's biology section and shared, with "Look at this cool bug i found" as the captions.
Sasha responded with, "Stop Studying ya nerd IT'S ANNE'S BDAY‼! MEET US DOWNTOWN" and emojis of a party blower, cake, and a dancing woman.
Anne's birthday… "Anne's birthday!" She exclaimed, slapping her forehead as she stood and pushed her chair back. "I almost forgot!" How could I forget?! Marcy put her phone and pen in her grey-blue Saint James Middle School hoodie's pocket and grabbed her books, shoving them into her backpack as quickly as she could. Gotta hurry! Gotta hurry! I can't be late for my BFFs special day! You only turn thirteen once! Wait, what am I even saying? Everyone only turns every age once.
She and Sasha — mostly Sasha — had planned out how they were going to spend Anne's big day. After school, they would meet up downtown and do a little shopping. Then, they would go to the park and play a "Creatures and Caverns" campaign that Marcy spent the whole week preparing. And finally, the best birthday ever will end with a sleepover at Sasha's place. And something else. Marcy had an entire speech written up for Anne. It's about how she makes me feel when I'm around her, how she's always been there for me no matter what happens, how I'm kinda jealous of how easy she can make friends with other people. How I think that… that… I might… might… really like her…
Marcy continued putting her books away when one of the librarians walked past her with a cart, and one of them fell off, landing near her. "Whoops." She noticed it and squatted down to pick it up. "Excuse me, ma'am, you dropped your... book?" It was a leather-covered book bone adornments that made up a rectangle, with the title in the center, "DR. CRACKPOT'S BOOK OF THE DAMNED."
"Huh, interesting title." Curiosity getting the better of her, Marcy decided to flip through it and stopping at two pages. The first one was titled "The Alchemical Magnum Opus," featuring an image of a naked person with both male and female body parts forcefully fused.
The text below read: "Once one goes through the stages of putrefaction and purification, and all opposing qualities have been separated, they are united once more in what is known as Rebis, The Divine Hermaphrodite." Interesting. "The reconciliation of spirit and matter, a being both male and female, existing within a single body."
Marcy's eyes scrolled through the rest of the page until she came across… "Oh my god!" She shut her eyes. They were serious! They were really serious with what they said about being "both male and female." Now, the image of both guy and girl… private parts… fused was burned into her brain and will undoubtedly haunt her nightmares tonight.
She looked over at the second page, trying to shove the horrors she just saw into the darkest recesses of her mind, focusing on "Excerpts from the Third Journal: Bill Cipher." Below was an image of a two-dimensional, triangular character with a single large eye, skinny limbs, a small bow tie, and a black top hat. Is that supposed to be this, "Bill Cipher?" "Heh." Marcy chuckled at the image. He doesn't look that scary.
There was not much to the text, just a string of symbols Marcy did not recognize. The only parts she could read were three lines, "Is he watching me? CAN'T BE TRUSTED! DO NOT SUMMON AT ALL COSTS!"
"Hah!" Marcy laughed again. This Dr. Crackpot guy has some goofy stuff. But kinda interesting, too. She flipped through the book again, coming across a picture of what looked like a muscular man with bat-like wings. And a passage next to it titled, "The Gargoyles of Manhattan."
The text below read: "Gargoyles are nocturnal winged-humanoids that turn to stone during the day. They live in close-knit groups called clans that protect their rookeries and the surrounding area—" The rest of the text was cut-off, continuing to the next page. Marcy was about to flip over to read the rest when she noticed the page before the current one.
There was a drawing of a skeletal being with spectral-like features and holding a massive scythe, titled. "The Death Elemental." That's a wicked drawing. And I can't believe I'm admitting this, but even better than the Reaper designs from "Vagabondia Chronicles."
The text below read: "The Death Elemental, also known as the Grim Reaper, is a spirit that feeds on living beings' essences — their souls — at the exact moment after death. They are nigh immortal, having existed since the dawn of history, perhaps even all life itself. They can take on any physical form they choose and travel to different worlds for souls to devour. This is done through having access to the Infinite Corridor."
A what? Marcy flipped through to the book until she landed on what she was looking for. "Woah!" The page she landed on caught her interest. It was a colored drawing of an endless tunnel of swirling turquoise and pink. She read the title aloud, "The Infinite Corridor?"
The text below read: "The Infinite Corridor is a route; a system of many doors to worlds — universes — separated from our own by space and time." "Worlds separated by space and time?" "It's possible, most certainly, that one of them is Hell itself." Like the one from the Bible? "However, portals to the Corridor are few and far between, and they drift in and out of existence."
Marcy looked back at the swirling colors and chuckled again. "More goofy stuff. Cool artwork, though." Taking out her phone, she snapped a picture of it.
Her phone suddenly vibrates again with a new text, reading, "DAD Come home. We Need to talk."
Marcy raised an eyebrow. "Huh, wonder what this's all about." She checked the time on her phone. 5:45 P.M. "I guess I can head home before meeting up with the girls." Marcy placed her phone in the pocket of her hoodie and pulled the hood over her head. She left Dr. Crackpot's book on the table for someone else to read or put away before grabbing her bag and walking to the exit.
Marcy biked her way from the library to her home, a small, white house with a green roof and brick chimney. There were two statues of lions next to the door and a bamboo fountain on the grass. Her parents' SUV was still in the driveway, parked next to the streetlamp. Marcy guided her bike behind and rested it against the white fence. As soon as she walked away, it fell on its side. She decided to check their red, fire hydrant-like mailbox quickly. There was no mail inside. Alright, enough dillydallying.
Marcy walked over to and opened the front door. It was unlocked. She stepped inside her home and saw that her mom and dad were waiting for her in the kitchen. "There you are, Marcy." Her dad said. He and his wife sharing a serious look on their faces. What's going on? Marcy was beginning to get worried.
"Is everything alright?" Marcy asked.
"Well…" Her dad paused. "I think you should sit down first; we need to talk to you."
"Talk with you." Her mom corrected.
"Yes, that's what I meant."
"O… kay." Marcy walked into the kitchen, hesitant with each step. I'm getting a real bad feeling here. Marcy pulled out the chair and sat. Her mom's favorite flower-decorated vase stood in the middle of her vision, dividing her parents.
"Marcy, you know we both love you so much, right?" Her mom asked.
"Course I do! Why wouldn't I?" Marcy chuckled, trying to mask her growing worry.
"Well… It's just—" Her mom looked away from a moment.
Just, what? "Just, what?"
"Things are going to be changing soon." Her dad finished. "Hopefully for the better." He seemed unsure about that last line.
"Are you getting a raise? A promotion?" Marcy asked with some enthusiasm, thinking she may have gotten worried over nothing. "Are we getting a pool?" Oh, man. I should totally invite Anne and Sasha to a pool party. It probably won't be as fancy as Sasha's, but I think they'll love it.
Her parents looked at each other again and sighed deeply. "It has to do with my job, yes. But it's—"
Marcy cocked her head, her worry creeping back up. "It's…"
"A new position opened up, one with better pay, and I took it. But it requires—" Her dad tensed for a moment. "It requires that we move."
Move?! Marcy blinked. "You… you mean to like another part of L.A., right?" Right?
"He means out of state." Her mom answered.
Marcy felt her heart stop for a brief second. "Wh… what?"
"We'll be leaving California two months from now." Her dad added.
"Y… you can't be serious?" They were serious! "No… no, I… we… we lived here all our lives." Tears began to well up in the teenager's eyes; she could feel herself choking on her own words. "My friends live here!"
"Marcy…" Her dad began again, empathizing with his little girl, trying to find the right words. "Marcy, you have to understand—"
"No!" Marcy pushed herself from the table. The sudden motion knocked the vase over the table, smashing it on the ground. Her parents jumped from the surprising sound as Marcy bolted for the door. "You guys are ruining my life!"
"Marcy, wait!" "Get back here, young lady!" Her mom and dad shouted at the same time.
But Marcy was already out the door, running on emotions as tears streamed down her cheeks. How could they do this to me? Haven't I been a good daughter? How can they separate me from my best friends like that? It's not fair! Marcy kept running until she could not run anymore. She huffed and puffed as she took in her surroundings; she did not know where she was. All that she knew was that the building in front of her was a… The Thrift Store. She then recognized that she was downtown, where Sasha asked to meet her. I didn't think I ran that far. Marcy walked down the alley between the shop and another building until a fence and dumpster blocked her. She slumped against one of the buildings, bringing her knees to her face as she cried.
Marcy's phone vibrated again; lifting her head, she looked at it. It was a text from Sasha, asking, "WHERE ARE YOU?!" Right, Anne's birthday. I'll just tell them where I am and ask where they want to meet. What am I gonna do? What am I gonna tell them? If we're never gonna see each other again, how can I tell Anne the truth about how I really feel about her?
Not long after Marcy sent the text, Sasha and Anne arrived. The sky was darker now, almost fully nighttime. "There you are, Marcy." Sasha greeted her.
"Hey, Mar-Mar." Anne referred to her nickname from when they were in preschool.
"Hey, guys." Marcy greeted them back, trying to hide her current feelings from them.
Sasha walked over to and wrapped her arm around Marcy's shoulder. "You girls ready to have some fun playing Marcy's board game at the park."
"Oh… uh… yeah, Sash." Marcy looked away from the blonde and Anne.
"Marcy, are you okay?" Anne asked. Being her oldest friend, even before Sasha joined, Anne knew when something was bothering her.
"I'm fine, Anne." I hate lying to her. Even if it's a small one. "Happy Birthday. How does it feel being thirteen?"
"Honestly, I don't feel that different."
"Well, enough about that now." Sasha intervened, walking ahead of the other girls. "Let's just keep this party train going!"
I have to tell them. Not telling them is only making me feel worse. "Before we go… there's something I need to say."
"You can tell us on the way to the park." Sasha kept walking.
"It's important, Sash. I'm…" Before Marcy could say anything more, the wind started to pick up. "Huh?" Marcy looked around as trash started to blow all over the place.
"You're what?"
Suddenly, there was humming, making Marcy jump. "What the…"
"Do you guys hear that?" Anne asked, on edge herself. The wind began to pick up more, blowing harder than any of them have ever seen.
"What's going on?" Sasha asked, sharing in her friend's worry.
Is this a tornado? I thought California doesn't get tornadoes. The humming began to grow more intense. Marcy looked around frantically for the source, her heart beating rising. Where's that coming from. She noticed her shadow grew longer in front of her. A feeling in her stomach was telling her not to… but she did, anyway. She turned around and gasped at what she saw.
"What is it, Mar—" Anne began, only to be cut off by the gasps from what her friend saw.
"What was that A…" Sasha was about to ask, but her mouth was then left agape like the other girls, seeing what they were seeing.
Right in front of them was an endless tunnel of swirling turquoise and pink, just like… No, it can't be… Marcy then felt herself being lifted off the ground. "What…" She was getting closer to the swirls, being sucked by it. "No! Help me!"
"MARCY!" Sasha and Anne both shouted and grabbed their friend by her ankles, using their strength to keep her grounded. But it was in vain as the three of them was pulled into the portal. "HEEEELP!"
They were falling. They were falling and screaming. "HEEEELP! SOMEBODY! PLEEEASE!" Please… somebody, help me. Teardrops fell behind Marcy as she continued falling through the tunnel of light.
As she fell, Marcy saw other portals open within the tunnel, revealing different locations. The first was an island in the middle of a sea that looked disturbingly like a decaying, giant corpse. Another portal featured a temple of a giant, four-armed woman on a beach, with a small house at its base. Another showed a very harsh planet with rocky grey deserts and valleys. Then, one of what looked like a cyborg ninja, or samurai, fighting a mechanical dinosaur in a large city. Before Marcy could process any of this, the tunnel glowed so bright that it nearly blinded her. She closed her eyes, which was soon followed by hitting some sort of ground.
"No, please!" The woman's scream echoed through the night, praying for someone to rescue her, backing away on the ground as the man approached her. A tall, pale man in a coat with ratty hair, soulless eyes, and reeked of something foul — something that died. But what scared the woman more than anything was his long fangs. The fangs of a vampire. "Please don't kill me!"
The man grabbed the woman by the throat, and she let out pained gurgles as he lifted her with just one hand. "Please…" Tears rolled down her cheeks as she begged. The vampire opened his mouth, revealing his fangs, and sunk them into her neck. "AHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh…" The woman's scream died as the last drop of her blood was stolen.
The vampire released his fangs from her flesh. "Why the fuck do these tarts always beg for their lives like they think I'm gonna spare 'em or somethin'?" He asked himself as he dropped the body. "Do they think I give a shit about what they want? Of course not! I only give a shit about what I want." The vampire, Varney — "Nightmare of London; Terror of the British Isles; King vampire cocksman of all Europe"— made sure to drink her dry. He does not need some newborn vampire running around, drawing attention, and making his job — and overall life — harder.
"Know what? It don't matter. This's all just a small part in Dracula's grand plan. He gets what he wants, slaughterin' all these pigs for killin' his wife. And I get what I want, what I deserve, out of these gobby little shits." If Varney knew things were going to go this well for him, he would have tipped off the Church about Lisa Tepes ages ago.
"Wonder how that bloke with the accent's doin' about now? Now, what was his name again?" Varney rubbed his chin, trying to remember the name of the vampire Dracula paired him up with to instill fear into Braila after he helped to lead the first raid on Targoviste. He was of Slavic origin and bragged about being a soldier more capable than the "witty" vampires he says he is sick of. Then it hit him. "Wait, I remember now. It's Ratko. Wonder where that lil pissant is."
"Here." The deep, emotionless voice of the Slavic vampire answered as Varney turned to see him sitting on a crate.
"When the hell did you get here?" Varney asked him.
"Just a bit ago, while you were ranting." Ratko hopped off the crate. "I smelled shit nearby and had a feeling it was you," Varney growled at Ratko's statement as the Slav scowled. "And it looks like I'm the only one doing their job while you're playing with whores."
"I'm not playin' with them. I don't play with my food. Dracula wants us to put fear into all their hearts, and I'm doin' just that." Varney pointed at the recently drained woman. "She ain't the only one I killed tonight. Come mornin'; the city will wake up screamin' to the bodies littered in the street by yours truly."
Ratko did not look impressed in the slightest. "Killing whores is nothing. They die on the street all the time. If anything, they will all wake up screaming to what I have done."
Varney raised an eyebrow. "Oh, what did you go and do, exactly?"
"I went to the local orphanage, gutted the brats in their sleep, and hung them by their entrails outside one the churches. That is what Braila will wake up screaming too. And it will be a beautiful sound."
Typically, anyone — even vampires — would have been unnerved by such a barbaric act. But not Varney; all he felt was… disappointment. "Killin' kids? Is that the worst you can do?" The European vampire laughed hardily. "I've seen worse in my lifetime. And they were crimes committed by humans no less."
"Yes. In your lifetime," Ratko said with a snarl. "Your lifetime when—" Varney did not hear the rest of the Slavic vampire rant after he felt it; he felt it shaking through his bones. A feeling he knew, experienced many times before and turned his head to where it was coming from.
Something, or someone… no, several there was several of them… have fallen through the Infinite Corridor. They nowhere near Braila, but they did land somewhere in Wallachia, all in separate locations; that much, he was sure. "You're not even listening, are you?"
"What's that?" The European vampire asked apathetically. "Sorry, I was just thinkin' about somethin' more interestin' is all."
"Like what?" There was doubt in Ratko's voice.
"Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho." Varney laughed to himself. "Nothin', just somethin' about unlucky bastards, and they better hope they die a quick death because they ain't gonna live long out there."
Before Ratko could respond, he and Varney heard a sharp breath nearby and turned to see a fat man spotted them and the freshly killed woman, paralyzed with fear. "Oh, for fuck's sake." The man tried to run and get a scream out, warning everyone who can hear him. But before a sound could leave his mouth, Varney closed the gap with his inhuman speed and snapped the man's neck with little effort. "Nope, don't need any of that now."
"What a waste," Ratko said, looking at what could have been a decent snack for any vampire.
"No sense in cryin' over spilled blood." Varney walked ahead. "C'mon now, the night is still young and can still be filled with plenty of terror." Without any further distractions, the British and Slavic vampires were off to continue their killing spree uninterrupted.
Is… is it over? Wait, I'm still alive. Marcy opened her eyes, seeing the sky went from a cloudy grey to a pitch black. How long was I falling for? Or was it all just a dream? Marcy then noticed something was wrong, particularly with the ground. She sat up and realized that she was lying in the muddy grass. Where did this come from? Not only that, but she was also in the middle of a forest. What is going on? Marcy got up as a sudden realization hit her; she did not fall on her own. "ANNE! SASHA!" She shouted for her friends but got no response. "ANNE! SASHA!" Still nothing.
"Okay, Marcy, you have to be dreaming. You're gonna wake up at the sleepover at Sasha's place." She slapped herself. "C'mon, wake up!" She slapped herself again. "Wake up!" She did it one last time. "WAKE UP!" All her attempts failed. I don't think this is a dream; that portal thing brought me, Anne, and Sasha somewhere else. But it couldn't have been the Infinite Corridor… could it? That doesn't matter now. The only thing that matters to Marcy at the moment is finding Anne and Sasha. "ANNE! SASHA!" I know they fell through with me. "ANNE! SASHA!" But why aren't they here?
Marcy then noticed something out in the distance. "Is that…" She squinted, putting a flat hand on her forehead. It is. She saw smoke in the distance. Not the kind from a forest fire, but a chimney. There's a town nearby. Maybe they can tell me where I am. Maybe Anne and Sasha are there, looking for help. Yeah, that had to be it.
Marcy trekked through the woods as fast as she could — at her own pace — still a bit exhausted from what happened to her earlier. She kept walking until she eventually came to what she expected, a town. But the town itself was not at all what she thought it was going to be. It was a modest, very impoverished place that looked something out of the Middle Ages. Maybe, we traveled through time. "Anne! Sasha! You guys here?" Still no response. There was no response from anyone at all. Please don't tell me this place is abandoned.
Marcy did not notice a sign anywhere to tell her where exactly she was. If all my experience playing "Creatures and Caverns" has taught me anything, there is only one place to find out where I am. Marcy looked around and saw a cozier-looking building compared to the others, with light coming out of the rectangular slots. And that's the tavern.
Marcy headed over there at once and pushed at the wooden door, making a creaking sound as she entered. "It's all about these old families." She heard a voice say as she stepped inside. There were five people within the place. One was a mustached man behind the counter, who Marcy assumed to be the innkeeper. Three were on the other side of the counter, drinking from mugs. They looked like farmers; one was tall and muscular, one short and stocky, and the other was between the heights and scrawny. The fifth patron was a man sitting at a table far from the others. He had short brown hair and a huge fur coat, and Marcy could be mistaken, but he looked to have a scar going down an eye.
"Like the Belmont's." Marcy returned her attention to the bar and realized the voice now, and the one from earlier came from the stocky man. The same man spat on the ground after saying that name. Belmont? "They control all the power and go to war with each other!" He pointed at the innkeeper. "And who's caught in the middle?" He looked at his other comrades. No one seemed to notice Marcy just entered the room.
"We are." The tall man answered the question.
"We are! Because We. Don't. Matter. Do you know why? Where'd you come from?"
Marcy blinked. Did they notice me? She was about to answer when… "Well, out of your aunt, accordin' to you." Answered the tall one. Oh, never mind.
"You came from shit!" The stocky man cursed — marking Marcy's skin crawl — jabbing his finger into the taller one's chest. "I came from shit! We all came from shit!" Marcy has never been a fan of profanity. She has heard it before, but that does not mean she wants to hear it again. "We just work for a living, every day of our lives to feed those bastards. Giving them our food and water. Slaves! That's what we are! Slaves to "great" ol' families, and their games!"
The man seemed to be finished with his rant. Now's my chance. "Um, excuse me," Marcy spoke up, getting the attention of everyone at the bar.
"And who are you?" The skinny patron asked. Who was he talking to? "I'm talkin' to you, girl! Can you speak? Who the fuck are you?" Okay, rude. Everyone at the counter turned to the teenager, glaring at her.
Marcy took a deep breath and composed herself. "Hi, I'm Marcy. I'm new in town. And I was wondering if—"
"Bah, just what we needed. As if this day couldn't get any worse, an Oriental comes along." The stocky man spat with venom. Marcy was taken aback by what she was just called. No one's ever talked to her like that before. "We don't need your kind here in Murdenu." He began to approach Marcy. Every instinct was telling her to get out, but she was too scared to move. It was the look in the man's eyes. "Get out before we make an example of what happens to people like you." I think… I think he wants to kill me.
"Scuse me, barkeep." Said a deep voice as the guy who sat by himself got between the stocky man and me. His movements were off-balanced, most likely from too much to drink. He placed his mug on the counter. "Can I get a refill? I feel like I'm sobering up, here." The stranger looked at me and whispered, "Go, get outta here." Unlike how the ones at the bar spoke, his words here were not meant to be nasty. He was telling her to leave for her safety. I got the memo. Marcy began to back away to the door, guessing that she will need to find help elsewhere.
"Alright, alright. But I want to see some coin first." The mustached man told him.
The stranger grunted and began to search himself. His hands bumped into something, and Marcy saw he had a sword underneath his cloak — and something else but could not make it out — as he continued to search for his money. "Oi! What's that on your chest?" The stocky man asked him.
"Hm. My shirt." The stranger replied, not paying attention as he pulled out a pouch of coin and placed it on the counter. "Here. One more tankard before I go find a tree to sleep under." Instead of taking it, the innkeeper looked at the stranger with disgust. What's going on. Marcy backed away more, sensing the coming danger.
"That's a family crest." The stocky man said. "I know it."
"Good for you." The stranger replied, his attention still on the innkeeper. "Just one more and—"
"That's a Belmont crest." The stocky man pushed the stranger back. Wait, isn't that the family they were talking about before?
"Look, I just want one more drink. I have the coin right there."
"You're a Belmont, aren't you? House of Belmont? Family of Belmont?"
"Never met 'em." The stranger rubbed his eyes, taking the sack back. "Look, I'll just go."
"You're a Belmont!" The stocky man shoved the stranger away from the bar as his friends joined in. And another thing I picked up from playing "Creatures and Caverns" is that I think I know where this is going.
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