Chapter 32: Peppin

32

Askauri had left the building. But not before luxuriating in the steam of a shower that he appreciated in the manner only a recently freed prisoner could ever understand, though.

Freshly groomed and properly attired, he had a moment to consider the plot against his family. Things had obviously been long set in motion. A well-executed plan, operating without notice right under the noses of the entirety of the House of Askai.

Someone, somewhere within the vast, yet admittedly labyrinthine Royal Courts or the Administrative State Services should have known of such a far-reaching plot, should have been able to ferret it out. Something of this extent, something as far-reaching as an assassination attempt on the King, could not have happened without some detail showing itself.

Askauri, through his contacts outside of the strict formalities of the system, though, knew of an unofficial source or two that owed him a favor. The tainted, disreputable type, specializing in knowing the supposedly unknowable. This would be the most obvious place for him to start, especially if a conspiracy had managed to slip by, unnoticed, by the official channels.

Word of his return would be getting around, however. He would have to move quickly, catch his former informants off guard before they could completely sell off what they had on him from back in the day. Time was of the essence and Askauri figured it wouldn't take long to check in, just to show his face, to send word that he was back.

He knew just where to find a good lead. He calculated that he could pop in and out on his most obvious source before Bealz had been fully prepped and groomed.

The boy was a mess and would take some work to make presentable for what Askauri had planned for the evening. He looked forward to taking his son up to the Angstrom's rooftop restaurant. It was reserved for the Merchant Kings and their special guests.

A good meal, served up alongside some good conversation while overlooking the lights of the city, would be an ideal setting for him to begin the process of introducing himself to his son.

Checking himself over in the mirrors of his private suites once more, Askauri steps into his reflection, and out from a shadow, into the quiet corner of an exclusive bar located a couple of floors beneath the sub-basement of a luxury hotel several miles north of the Angstrom.

The bar, known to a select few as The Passage, was situated within a magically enchanted space that most of the employees of the hotel above didn't know about, wouldn't actually be capable of seeing even if they were standing right in front of it.

He surprises a passing waitress, her artiodactyl tail shooting straight up in startled reflex, momentarily exposing her beneath a short skirt.

Askauri himself is surprised. She is a rarity, even for such open establishments. One of Earth's dwindling number of magical creatures, her kind once ran free across the Americas.

She was at once a nymph, a whitetail deer and a beautiful young lady.

That she worked here, as a servant, no less, was someone's idea of an ostentatious display of wealth and power. The owners, not those listed on the Corporate filings, but the real owners, wanted its patrons to know of their reach.

It was a subtle reminder, as they accepted their drinks from such a rarity, forced into servitude, of their own place amongst the hierarchy.

Askauri thought it distasteful. The works of a little mind. Just like the one seated at the far end of the bar, partially shielded by the already low lighting. The one he had come to see.

Scanning the room for any hint of hostility, Askauri is surprised by the changes. The place was packed. He could see the magical signatures of most of those milling about, sitting around, drinking, laughing.

Many, though, were obviously non-adept. Just as many, in fact, if not more, than the magical folks.

Things had certainly changed. Making his way to the bar, Askauri heads towards a dapper, nattily dressed man who appeared well-kept in his early to mid fifties. As he gets closer, the man's form blurs and he begins to emit a low pitched buzz, like a hive full of bees.

Whipping his head around, he spots Askauri and sinks back into his seat.

“Now look what you've done,” the man says. He had shrunk down into something much less appealing, his colors fading back into a staler monochrome. “I'll have to start all over now, thank you very much.”

The man turns a shoulder to Askauri and calls over the bartender; a tall, thin woman. Her skin was nearly opaque. “Another round, dear.”

The bartender takes a moment to stare into the weaselly man's eyes before shuddering slightly. A huge smile sprouts across her face and she bats her eyes back at him sheepishly. “Anything for you, handsome.”

Askauri watches the beautiful young woman, perhaps an Aquarian, walk away with a sensuous sway. He turns back to the man seated at the bar. His form had shifted yet again. He was now a big, brawny African-American in a well-cut suit. He sported a large pinky ring and a flashing platinum and diamond chain.

Shaking his head disapprovingly, Askauri says, “Peppin. Just look at you...”

“I'd rather you didn't, dear little lordling. I've a couple more prospects on the hook. I need to hold my form in all of their minds. They're all so hot for me that it's hard to keep em straight.”

“Maybe you haven't heard, Peppin, but I'm a 'little lordling' no more. Address your King with respect.”

“All due respect, 'Dear King', but you can take that shit back to the Southside, with your bitch. This is the Chi, not the Long Plains.”

Seeing the brief flash of angry vulnerability in Askauri's eyes, Peppin continues, “Yeah, I heard about the dancing whore and your little bastard.”

“Your tongue, Peppin...”

Not bothering to get up from his seat, Peppin waves his hand in false reverence and genuflects.

“Apologies, my Lord. It's the magic. I'm on the prowl for rich Merch Girls out dancing on daddy's dime. You'd be surprised how many of them are actively fantasizing about getting choked out by a big black dude right now.”

“That doesn't answer for your disrespect, Peppin.”

“Indeed. Again, my apologies, Lord Askauri. Sometimes, when I wear their desires, I get their stereotypes, too. You just got a little taste of the pimp hand that I'll be layin down later on, that's all.”

“You disgust me, Peppin. You bring shame to the Long Plains,” Askauri says.

“Yeah, well, you'd know about that, now, wouldn't you, Dear Lord?” Peppin asks condescendingly, before turning back to the returning bartender with a huge smile.

“Thanks, honey.”

“You bet, dreamboat,” the bartender titters with flattery. “I get off in an hour or so. You wanna maybe go get some coffee?”

“Well, hon,” Peppin says, tilting his head towards Askauri. “I might be a little busy.”

“No doubt,” Askauri says with a shake of his head. He waves a hand over Peppin, pulling aside his glamour.

The bartender sees what lies beneath and gives a frightened yelp. Her hand trembles and she drops Peppin's proffered drink to the floor.

“Oh shit,” she says, taking a step back. “Uhm, I'm sorry. Excuse me,” the frightened young woman mutters before turning to flee to the far side of the bar.

There was a dark afterimage burned into her brain, a hole that only slowly begins to fill in, pushing out the memory of what she'd just seen.

“That was pretty shitty of you, Askauri.”

“I guess it would depend on your point of view, Peppin,” Askauri says. “I think it would have been shitty of me to let you put your filthy hands on that poor girl. Now get up. We need to talk. In private.”

There were a variety of rooms set up for a variety of purposes adjoining the secret bar buried beneath the streets of Chicago. Dining spaces, conference rooms, spas, sleeping quarters and whore's chambers.

Askauri led Peppin to the furthest of the conference rooms, closed and warded the doors behind them.

Peppin was many things. A number of them distasteful. But he was, in fact, a citizen of the Long Plains, one of many amongst its far-flung diaspora.

He was a creature of the Wilds, imbued with its chaotic creative energies. Peppin used his abilities, miraculous magics, in the employ of petty cons and scams. Worse yet, he chose to do so, to ply his trade amongst the unsuspecting residents of Earth. He'd developed a taste for their coin, which could entice and ensnare even a magical being. In some instances much easier and much more quickly, because of their naivete.

Peppin's abilities, along with his malleable flesh and desirous mimicry, were also capable of gleaning bits and pieces of deeper, inner thoughts as well. In a room full of conspirants, then, he'd make the perfect spy, questionable morality and all. He often used this ability for his own illegal gains, positioning himself amongst those with the most secrets to keep.

In this new age of corporate and magical espionage, a new type of cold war was developing and Peppin found his services in great demand. And at a pretty high price point, to boot. He was doing much better than he'd ever done before, with no apparent end to those willing to pay a premium for even the slightest edge.

Askauri was only interested in one thing, though, and got straight to the point, “Who was it, Peppin?”

“There's much more to it than that, My Lord.” Stripped of his glamour, Peppin's magics falter. He was exposed, opened up to closer examination. He didn't like to be seen like this. It made him feel naked and vulnerable.

“I could take what I want,” Askauri warns. “You know I can. And you know what that would mean for you, too.”

“I know I wouldn't be the first drooling vegetable you'd left behind,” he says. “Your kind and gentle nature is well, known.”

“Only for the likes of you, Peppin.” Askauri disregards the petulant defense.

“Now tell me something I can use. The Peoples of the Long Plains will not forget your service.”

“Yeah,” Peppin says with icy cynicism. “I'm sure you'll be forever in my debt. Am I right, Askauri?”

Snorting derisively, Peppin sneers, “You selfish bastard. You know that kind of loose talk is bad for business. I'd be on the run right along with you.”

“There are much worse things for you to worry about, Peppin,” Askauri says, years of practiced patience wearing thin.

“You should know, that I'm about ten years past pissed off. You don't want to test that.”

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Peppin gives in without further resistance. His ability to read Askauri's desires may have been disrupted, but he knew well enough that the man had reached his limits.

“Don't go poking around in the gutter for what is going on under your own gilded roof, Askauri. None of this, none of these plans, are new. Just ask your Mother.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Let's just say that the Old Girl's been busy, especially since you've been gone.”

Considering Peppin's words, Askauri can't find the connection. His brother was dead. His Mother couldn't be the cause of this. “Explain,” he demands.

“Uh-uh. You got all you need from me. You know where to start. That'll take you where you need to go, whether you like it or not. And you can keep me the fuck out of it while you're at it,” Peppin protests.

“Any fool willing to get on the wrong side of your Mother must think very little about where their head should rightfully remain. And I'm no fool, Askauri.”

“But you are fool enough to try and deceive me.”

“Little white lies. Nothing to get your panties in a bunch about.”

Just then, a thunderous blow booms against the thick wood of the locked and enchanted double doors.

“Now that,” Peppin says, the betrayal wickedly evident in his delighted eyes. “That's something you should be worried about. They knew where you were gonna go probably before you even did, Askauri. Those ten years behind bars have slowed you down.”

“You picked sides, little Peppin. Perhaps the wrong one.”

At that moment, a searing flash of purple light stabs through Askauri's protective wards and the doors implode inward, splintering off of their hinges.

Three men stand shoulder to shoulder amid the smoke and dust. They are identical albinos, their pale skin seeming to glow. Their pupils were blood red.

Identical in every way, right down to their thoughts and actions, they move swiftly into the room, taking up positions surrounding Askauri. They close in like a well-choreographed pack of wolves, pulling free heavy chains looped across their shoulders like metal bandoleers. Spinning the chains around in unison, the metal links begin to glow red then white hot.

Askauri takes up a defensive stance, quickly drawing forth a shield of protection. Peppin had skittered away to cringe in the corner, popping back up only to hurl insults.

Askauri doesn't hear him. His focus has tightened. He feels the once familiar burn of adrenaline ramping up his heart rate. It had been years since he had been forced to engage in personal combat of this sort.

Twice during his period of incarceration he had to defend himself against attack. Once on the yard against a crew of seven killers and once again in his cell, where he had been cornered by four cell block assassins for hire.

Each time he had successfully fought them off, crippling several, killing two. Cut off from his familial magics, he had been forced to fall back on extensive combat training, using nothing but his hands, feet, head, knees and elbows to defend himself against an assortment of men and makeshift weaponry.

Neither of those times could come close to what he now faced, though. Askauri could feel the chaos magic roiling off of the deadly triplets as they circled closer. He could hear the sizzling heat of their chains, scalding the air as they were spun around like whirring blades.

They attack in unison, their chains whipping through the air. Askauri blocks their assault with an upraised arm. His body is en-wrapped within the protective cocoon of cytoplasmic energy he'd drawn forth as a shield. The assassin's chains sizzle and pop against it, melting it away.

Snatching them forward, he whirls around and slams all three into the heavy conference table and shakes free of their steel bindings.

“Uh-uh,” Askauri hears from behind him. Peppin had ventured forth from his hiding place and now stands boldly, suddenly confrontational.

“You see, 'My Lord',” Peppin sneers. “A lot has changed since you've been gone. You may as well be a fucking dinosaur.”

With that, Peppin, holding a smartphone, cues up an app. Askauri feels a piercing pain stab deep into his brain. A deafening, electrical whine, like high pitched feedback, scrambles his thoughts.

“I know you Royals don't have much use for this lowly, Earth-bound tech,” Peppin says tauntingly. “But this shit equalizes the playing field, wouldn't you say, Askauri?”

Askauri struggles to fight off the mind-numbing assault. Through blurred eyes he can just make out the closing forms of his three attackers, but can do nothing to stop them. The heavy chains smash down upon his upraised arms, his back and legs, as he tries to protect his head.

Whatever Peppin had done, whatever it was that the device he held was doing to him, it had disrupted his warding, scrambled his senses. Ten years of practice and study, though, had left him better prepared than he could have imagined for such as this. He slid aside, moved his consciousness over into a localized astral space.

Here, Askauri was able to examine the magics being used against him. It was a strange sort of thing. A corruption, a bludgeoning mockery of the energies emitted by the Source. It was, at once, a digitally transmitted electromagnetic signal, a sort of source code hacking into the localized structural reality, and a carefully crafted magical spell. The two were interwoven together exquisitely.

But Askauri could see its point of connection, the atomic level nexus through which both forms of energy flowed. An infinitesimal granule of light, there was a submicroscopic knot in the thread which ran through the overlying material space. He reached out and seized it.

The Askai were extensions of the geography from which they arose. Their magics had evolved to serve as a bridge, a conduit for the creative energies emitted through the Source that flowed copiously through the Long Plains.

They were a people of the great skies which stretched away into Infinity, as well as of the endless lands that disappeared beneath the distant haze. The land and sky were bordered by dense jungles and high mountains that seemed to float atop an Eternal sea of gently swaying grasses teeming with life.

The Askai drew strength from the sky. Buried as he was beneath hundreds of feet of dirt, steel and concrete, though, it currently offered Askauri little assistance.

However, they also channeled the stabilizing strength and the assurety of the land. It reached out for him, sensing his distress, his need. It lent him a rock upon which to stand. Askauri tapped into this deep-rooted, steadfast source of foundational magics.

The Earth beneath his feet spoke to him. It also yearned for the freedom to run unchecked beneath its cousin, the sky, a small sliver of which was trapped along with it here underground.

Askauri was an emissary, a representative of the synergistic relationship between the land and sky. He heard their longings, their desires to be reunited, and he agreed upon an exchange. He agreed to help unify them.

The air in the room condenses and the oxygen is drawn from the lungs of his attacker's. Sliding back into his body, he stands slowly, painfully, and raises his arms high as Peppin and the three albinos struggle to breath.

Askauri grabs at the air above his head in digging, clawing fistfuls and, straining from the exertion, pulls down hard, snatching at the small slice of the severed sky as it gathers above his head, looking to rejoin it to the ground beneath his feet.

With a great resounding rumble, followed by billowing plumes of dirt, dust, concrete and steel, he pulls the building down atop them all.