Chapter Four: Out of Control
"So, eh, I don't usually talk to humans like this," started Duke uneasily.
"I don't usually talk to alien ducks, but I do talk to anthropomorphized ducks in costume," she smiled back devilishly. Then she took another sip of her drink and spoke up, "Carmel, my name is Carmel."
"Like the town in California?"
"Yeah, my parents were originally from here and clearly couldn't get California off their minds."
"It is a beautiful planet," Duke admitted.
"What must earth be like for you? I can't imagine you and your team are settling in to our human culture all that readily," she said with a raspy voice, still trying to shout over the hypnotic music.
Duke sighed and explained, "You're sure right about that, sweetheart. I mean, some of us are better off than others. For instance, Nosedive loves it here, with the teen scene and all that. And Tanya is fascinated by human technology. But for the most part, we all want to go home."
"I can understand. I never really fit in out in farm country, but moving here, I immediately felt more at home. And now, I never want to go back to Minnesota. Besides, this scene is where it's at. You would never find a place like this in the Midwest." Carmel looked down into her drink, remembering with bitterness the staunch, upright morals that governed her previous home.
"Eh, I do come here to escape. However, I like to listen in to the conspiracies, the sightings, and the overall weird stories these humans conjure. They might lead me to Lord Dragoness's antics," Duke replied, taking a quick sip of his bourbon.
"You seem very passionate about your work," Carmel said.
"Eh, again, it's just to go home," he shrugged.
"You care very deeply about your team. You know, meeting someone as chivalrous and kind as you in California has been a surprise. People here are very self-absorbed and I'm glad the high life hasn't gotten to you yet," she said, pointing long, curving index finger at Duke.
"Only on the outside. Deep down, they all just want a drink in a quiet corner and a chat with a friend," Duke smiled, raising his glass.
"How truly uncorrupted of you."
"I'm a peasant at heart."
"I think you mean a pheasant at heart?" Carmel said, leaning in with a smirk.
"Watch yourself, sweetheart, my mother was half pheasant!"
Duke and Carmel both chuckled a bit and then simultaneously downed the last dregs of their drinks. Duke then looked up at the dark, young woman across from him and began to feel some semblance of calming warmth within him. It was an oddly familiar warmth—far reaching and certainly powerful. It sparked a vigor that coursed through his mind, melting the dark tremors that were constantly barraging his thoughts. This feeling of fortitude, of tenacity was the same feeling Duke felt when he swung on a cable, narrowly dodging motion-detecting rays to snatch up treasure. It was the same feeling he had when he gracefully discharged an opponent with his duck saber. It was the same feeling as when he brought home a feast for the Brotherhood. And yet, there was something even far more reaching—far more magical—to the feeling. He just couldn't place it.
Slowly, Duke reached across the table, aiming to caress Carmel's hand. But the moment his fingertips brushed up against hers, Duke was sent through a reeling journey in his mind. Images of the resistance, prison, Canard, his son in chains at auction, Duke falling from Red Dragon, and finally, himself wielding the Star Sword crashed into his vision. Carmel and the bar disappeared from view as he was forced to endure all manner of spiraling and suffocating memories—some good—others sinister and vile. They were colorful, dull, bizarre, beautiful, somber, joyful, and repugnant all the same time. The emotional journey was becoming too great. Finally, in the midst of the chaotic visions, the Star Sword appeared clearer than any other image. Duke let out an exasperated screamed and reached for it, tightly holding its jewel-laden handle. The visions came crashing down as suddenly as they had started and Duke found himself yelling and standing up at the table—Carmel staring up at him in distress. The music scene and not died down and the only human paying attention to his chimeric antics was his new friend.
"Carmel, did…did you…s-s-see that?" Duke panted, placing both hands on the table and slumping over, his head hanging low and his long hair brushing against the rims of their empty glasses.
"See what?" she asked, fearfully answering, her eyes wide with worry.
"Those…visions," he heaved breathlessly.
"No, no of course not," she yelled over the gothic tones of the night.
"I, I need to go," he said.
"Yeah, I guess you should," she said, still uneasy about what had just occurred. Without another glance at Carmel, Duke stormed out of the bar and out into the heavily humid and dark Anaheim night.
That was…awful. I'm going to be sick. What was that? Magic, Dragoness? Or something else? I'm losing my mind. I am out of control.