New System, Who Dis?

Tuesday, April 2nd, 2069

Waking up the next morning, I was cold and had the distinct urge to just pull my covers over my head and return to the safety that sleep offered. Yet, a very sensible voice in my head told me that would only make the situation worse. While this voice was certainly right, it didn’t make me hate it any less.

Plus, why was the sensible part of my brain so loud today?

Like it somehow had center stage when it used to be a relegated voice of discontent…

I flipped the covers off of me and got up before I’d fully examined my new-found clarity of thought. I picked up my phone, which my dad must have put in my room while I was in the shower, and clicked the button which changed the phone from Sleep mode to active. I’d also tied that into my room’s lighting which immediately caused me to squint as the lights flared.

“Moogle, lights to ten percent.”

They dimmed, allowing my watering eyes to begin clearing, but not before I saw a shadow of a bat on the wall. The shape immediately reminded me of my fevered vision of the bat-demon thing in the middle of the night, when I’d woken up to find myself not under the covers and in desperate need of a pee. Last night I was tired enough to ignore it.

Now the shadow was still there, but with the muted lights it was far less dark, and so I tried to tell myself to ignore it. That too-sensible voice in my head scolded me for cowardice, and I turned my head. Why was I listening to it?

“Husk,” I cursed, as the ugly foot-tall bat-gremlin came into focus.

It was watching me from the right headboard post of my queen-size bed. Our eyes met, and the dark pools of its gaze made me shiver again. I internally cursed the part of my brain that peer-pressured me into looking. It calmly explained that not seeing the creature would be worse than confirming it was there… probably.

That last inkling of misgiving wasn’t doing my blood pressure any favors.

“Husk? That’s all you got to say? I guess a mental fortress doesn’t help if what it’s protecting is slop from the get-go,” the creature said, its voice whiny and lispy at the same time.

It took me a second more to realize it just called me stupid.

“Hey, what the husk?! Not only is there a Monster in my room, but it can talk, and the first thing it does is insult me?” I asked, moving to point at it accusingly but then thinking better of it. It wasn’t attacking me, at this exact moment, and it hadn’t done so in my sleep either, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.

It just meant that it wanted something.

“You really need to work on your vocabulary,” it responded and pointed a long thin finger with a talon at its end at me. I narrowed my eyes at the gesture. It was the same one I wanted to use a moment before. This was certainly surreal.

I kept my eyes on it, as I backed up, feeling behind me with my hands for my desk or desk chair. I eventually bumped my hands onto the corner of the desk and felt around it until I arrived at my chair. At first the chair fled my grip, very much like I was trying to flee the terrifying winged death machine. Eventually I got a grip and turned it, before lowering myself down. I kept my eyes pinned to the Gremlin with wings. My hands remained clenched on the armrests, ready to use the thing as a weapon if it came to that.

Its spindly arms looked like they were bone and skin without enough muscles to even move the extremities. So, maybe I could take it. While I could see some hints of red in its black skin, it was more like seeing a red light glinting off something dark than it was a true skin tone. Its wings looked ratty and dry; almost ready to tear.

The bat-thing in turn watched me with its black pupil-less eyes. Perhaps I was getting better at reading its expression because I saw a great deal of derision in its tight-lipped smirk.

To my surprise ,I calmed once I felt the chair under my bare ass. That didn’t mean I released my death grip on my improvised chair-weapon, but that same strange clarity upon waking returned, seeming to allow my brain to stop whirring and focus.

I assessed my situation.

I was disturbed that I’d gone to bed naked and was still naked in front of a Monster, but calm. Yet, why was I only equally worried about my state of undress, being interrupted, and the husking Monster in my room? While I’m sure my parents would have questions if they walked into my room and found me naked and staring at a Monster, how was my brain able to calmly assess the chances of that happening, while simultaneously preparing a self-defense plan if it lunged at me?

On top of that, a corner of my mind was assessing if this creature was simply a figment of my imagination. Dissecting the situation, interactions so far, the monster’s actions, and the fact that since the talons of the bat-demon weren’t attempting to rip out my jugular—that part of my brain was oddly leaning towards the conclusion that I was, quite possibly insane.

So, maybe my parents would only have questioned my nakedness if they walked in.

I crossed my legs protectively over my manhood.

“So, have I gone insane?” I asked the creature, and by extension—myself.

“Doubt it. With what you just got in there,” the creature gestured vaguely toward my head. “I really do want to know what could make someone like you go insane, though. Can we test it out?”

“With what I ‘just got’?” I asked, scanning the room for something that didn’t belong, while simultaneously not taking my eyes off the sharp-toothed Gremlin. It wasn’t very effective, and I didn’t find anything out of place. Other than my far too calm brain cataloging each item in the room.

“It isn’t a physical object. Just check your Skill Cards,” the thing said.

With an eyebrow raised I slowly turned back to it. “My Skill Cards?”

Then of course I recalled the strange windows from yesterday in the shower. Was that what this thing was referring to? Still it began answering my question, confusing me further.

“Yeah, surely you have a Mid-Rank spent Mana Crystal around here somewhere, I don’t think you can pull them from your Heart Deck anymore? But honestly, I’m too new here to know,” the Demonic thing said as it gestured around the room but included the whole house. “Maybe not, since I couldn’t find anything through the night…” it drawled. “What sort of shit Summoner did I get bonded to?”

“Bonded? Summoner? Can you start making sense?” I spat, and then realized that if I was losing my mind as I was becoming more and more convinced that I was, it likely wasn’t going to get better. Still, how could I pull back up that strange red window—from my ‘Heart Deck’?

“Hmmm?” the creature said as it tapped its thin purple lips. It seemed to notice something either on its talon or in its teeth because it began using one of the two deadly implements to clean the other. I just watched, fascinated at the scene. It was a morbid inspection, because I was beginning to understand that the trauma from the attempted Mana Theft yesterday had somehow broken me.

I probably hadn’t even seen the red hovering window in the first place.

Yet somehow my head felt clearer than it had in a long while—my emotions calmer. Normally, I would have a million questions racing around in my head. Even on my best days, that was something I battled with, but now? Now it almost felt like my brain was filtering those questions and prioritizing them based on this imaginary creature’s responses, and what I needed most in this moment.

Right here, right now.

Perhaps that was why I asked another question before it even formulated a response. “Let’s start with this, then. Are you real and how did you get here?”

“Of course, I’m real, at least—for values of ‘real’. Only you can see me,” the creature said, its voice indignant. “As for the second part of the question—I don’t really know. I was Summoned using a Skill Card, but it was by a guy named Morgan Hallsbrad, according to my logs.”

I blinked. My body reacted to the Demon’s words by starting to curl in on itself.

The Shop?! I stopped the physical flinch even as my fingers attempted to release my makeshift weapon. Why was I flinching?

Wait!

Surely, I should feel fear or anger toward the man he was talking about, but I wasn’t afraid nor angry. My brain was chugging along and telling me I had nothing left to fear from a man in police custody. Unless he’d sent this Demon. Somehow used his Skill the previous night and this Demon assassin was the result?—even then though why hadn’t it done the deed already?

“So, he sent you to kill me?” I followed-up with a head tilt.

I could feel my body attempt to tense even as my far too calm brain urged it to remain calm. Only with a calm mind could I react to the possible incoming attack! That was the best way I would be ready to defend myself if the creature leaped at me.

The Demon scratched a long-pointed ear and tilted its head.

“Nope. If I’m being honest, I can’t even recall that guy. According to the log, he’s very dead now, though. So, no orders to try to kill you. Not that I could kill anything anyway.” He swiped at the lamp on my nightstand, and I tensed briefly, readying myself to catch it before it hit the floor and alerted my parents.

The creature’s taloned hand passed right through it. I stared at the claw, and the lamp, interested and confused by the scene.

Yet, after its little demonstration, I was finally able to untense. Relax, and breathe slightly easier.

Then the doorbell for my house rang, and I flinched again even as my brain scolded the physical reaction. What in the actual husk was going on? Why was my own mind scolding me?

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I checked the doorbell camera to find a snapshot of the two detectives, Volt and Flair, from the previous night. I looked between the Demon and the recording doorbell camera. If this thing was telling the truth they were likely here to inform me of The Shop’s death. Shouldn’t I feel a certain… something about that?

My brain remained calm, however. They’d already assessed the case as self-defense, right? So, what would change if the asshole died, except perhaps the degree of me coming to my own defense? As if I wanted an answer to that question, my far too-calm mind pulled it out of thin air.

The severity of the case would increase and they would have to make sure that I didn’t use excessive force for the situation. Or something like that. Did this mean I could be charged with manslaughter?

Still unperturbed, I clicked into the camera to listen as I heard one of my parents answer the door.

“Hello detectives,” my mother Clara greeted, her voice shaky and confused. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m afraid the possibility we discussed last night has happened, and we need to take Brodie back in for follow-up questioning.”

My mother gasped in surprise, but then didn’t follow up with a response. Surely, I should be even more worried than her, but I was calmly going over the situation. There was surely no way I could be charged with anything since the asshole had a gun, and I was unarmed. I had hit him two times, once in the groin and once in the face, to put him down.

I tapped my lip. It wasn’t like I’d beaten him repeatedly once he was incapacitated or anything. A good lawyer would immediately be able to have this case assessed as self-defense. Because that’s what it had been. Right?

I stood up from my chair, thinking I should change out of my ‘birthday suit’ before I was forced to go with them. A small cough reminded me of my crazy Demonic-delusion on my bedpost.

“Since you claim to be real, can you stay here while I handle this?”

“No can do. I cannot get further than a hundred yards from you. However, because I’m a Skill Summon with no combat capability, I’m kind of between phases of reality. As I said, I doubt anyone can see me.” The Demon said before tapping a tooth with a claw. “Well, they can see me if they have high-level Space Skills, or maybe there’s a way I can make myself visible?”

“What happens if you get more than a hundred yards from me?” I asked, ignoring the question he seemed to be asking himself, as I hurried to my closet. I quickly found underwear, socks, jeans, and a t-shirt.

“If I was physically in this dimension, we’d both likely experience severe pain at any significant separation. Since I’m not a combat Summons, I just get sucked through space back to your side. At least I think that’s what happened last night when I tried it.”

Having a conversation with what could be a figment of my imagination while dressing myself calmly so I could go speak to two detectives about a possible manslaughter charge should have felt off, but it didn’t. I blinked twice in quick succession, which was my only reaction to the current situation, as the Demon described it.

“Do you know how to pull up that red window or what you called my ‘Heart Deck’ from last night?” I asked, even as I snorted some air from my nose and pulled my shirt over my head.

“Red window? That’s not your Heart Deck! You shouldn’t have been able to see The Shop yet?” the Demon imp said, and I just blinked at it, trying to make sense of the words it just spewed. “Well, you just supply the Demonic Vault Skill with Mana…”

The Demon, which I realized I was getting tired of calling ‘the creature and Demon’, made that action sound extremely easy. I tried to mentally command my Mana to supply the ‘Demonic Vault’ Skill and nothing happened.

Rolling my eyes at my own insanity, I dismissed the nonsensical ‘coaching’ and moved on.There were two detectives waiting downstairs, so I grabbed a pair of socks and handled my other annoyance with the illusory creature.

“Okay—“ I said, stretching out the word. “—well it seems like I’m stuck with you—so we’ll talk about the Mana thing later. Now, what should I be calling you?” I asked.

“Pick a name. I won’t be giving you mine. Names have power, and you already have more over me than I care for.”

“Okay,” I responded dryly. Then realized that if he wanted to play a stupid game, he’d win a stupid prize. I could at the bare minimum give him a fitting name. “Okay, you’ll be Smegma.”

I almost felt bad as Smegma grinned at the name. Clearly it had no idea of its derogatory nature. Still, it had chosen to not tell me its name, and it hadn’t exactly had a great attitude so far. In fact, it had been the exact opposite of helpful, so, what little guilt I felt was easy to push aside.

Plus, if Smegma was just a figment of my imagination, I didn’t particularly like that it existed in the first place and I was only insulting myself.

After I was fully dressed, to my surprise Smegma didn’t follow me out of the room or down the stairs. I wasn’t too concerned though since, if it was telling the truth—wait—Why was I so sure it was telling the truth?

Whatever.

If it was telling the truth, I couldn’t possibly get a hundred yards away from Smegma while in my parents small two-bedroom rent-controlled house. It was with that thought that I turned the corner on the stairway landing to find my parents hugging each other in the center of the living room, while the two detectives sat on the couch.

Still, it was the image of Smegma’s head phasing through the ceiling and staring into the room that my eyes were glued to. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, before transferring them to the detectives.

“Good morning,” I said to the room, attempting to add a bit of enthusiasm to my voice. I failed.

My parents released each other and looked at me. Their faces were twisted into pitiful masks of such a mix of emotions that I couldn’t even begin to unravel them. However, right at the forefront for both was sadness, pity or worry. Maybe even all three.

“Good morning,” Detective Flair said as he stood up. “You don’t seem surprised by me and my partner in your living room.”

“I saw you on the doorbell camera,” I answered. “I’m not really sure why you’re here, but if you don’t mind my saying so, you being here at all doesn’t seem like it’s a good thing.” I lied even as I pointed to my parents. Both now had tears silently running down their faces.

My new calmness morphed when I saw those tears. Twisting in my gut. Surely I was supposed to be reacting more than this.

“I’m afraid that the case has become a bit more complicated,” Detective Volt stated, which caused my mother to begin sobbing openly.

My dad reached out and pulled her into a one-armed hug, even as he took the liberty of explaining.

“The guy who—the guy…” he faded off for a moment, seeming to try to find a way to continue without talking about the events from yesterday. After a pause, he simply whispered, “he died.”

A part of me wanted to glare up at Smegma, because I was sure that the reaction I had upstairs would have been more fitting at this moment. Instead of my muscles going limp, or even my face changing, I stood there staring at Volt. He blinked first, seeming to be waiting for something before his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t seem surprised by that news.”

“I told you that I saw you on the doorbell cam. The wonder of technology that it is—the thing has audio, too. I heard what you said to my mom. It wasn’t hard to piece together what ‘that possibility that we discussed, happened’ means. There are only a few things it could mean, given the situation—and my mother and father’s reactions confirmed my speculation,” I bold-face lied. Somehow, instead of being flustered in that moment my brain had pieced together a near perfect fib. One that was entirely plausible. After my pronouncement, silence stretched as my mother’s sobs intensified.

Volt’s eyes narrowed further, making me think that the lie wasn’t as perfect as I’d believed.

“Well, that does make sense, but you aren’t showing a hint of remorse,” Flair said, his voice not full blown skeptical but close.

The only response I could give the man in my current state was a blink. After which I moved further into the room and closer to my parents. My dad extended an arm and I moved into it accepting the hug. Tears did come then, but upon examination, I realized that they weren’t in response to the death of Morgan Hallsbrad, but because of what this situation was doing to my mother, to my father.

The detectives waited patiently as my family clung to each other. I would never know what they were thinking about, but their faces looked less suspicious now that they were seeing a reaction from me. After a few minutes Flair stood up.

“I’m sorry to do this, but you’ll have to come to the station with us, Brodie.”

“If you have a lawyer, I suggest you call them,” Volt said to my parents before pulling his cuffs from his waistband. “Brodie, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used—”

I tuned out the rest of what he was saying as I allowed him to maneuver my hands behind my back for the third time in two days. I stared up at the ceiling, watching as Smegma slowly phased fully through the stuccoed drywall. I followed him as he began hovering ever lower. I held my breath as he got level with the officer’s heads. No one reacted.

My dad was already on the phone with someone, and my mom was staring at the detectives with a mixture of murderous rage, and deep sadness written upon her face. I wanted nothing more than to give her a hug. Thankfully, she rushed to me and wrapped me up in a tight embrace.

“Don’t worry, your dad is calling the Miner’s Union. They’ll get a lawyer assigned through his insurance. We’ll meet you at the station!” She said the last so fiercely it surprised her, I think, because she hurriedly softened her tone to add, “I love you!”

I leaned into her hug, unable to use my hands to squeeze her back. The officers thankfully let us have our moment before I felt a gentle tug on my arm. A glance over my shoulder found Volt with an uncomfortable smile on his face.

“Sorry, we need to take him now, Mrs. Flacarada.”

I was escorted to the unmarked cruiser parked at the curb. It was early enough that no one was on the cul-de-sac, which my supernaturally calm mental state assessed as a good thing.

Still, that didn’t bar out people watching from windows. I took a slow glance around as my brain categorized everything I saw.

I didn’t see anyone as the detectives guided me into the back seat. Perhaps that would help my parents or me from rumors spreading.