China. The village of Yucheng.
Year of the Dragon.
*****
The Pupil watches the board held in the Master's hands, fist poised to strike. Breathing slow, every breath a masterwork of control. Eyes burrowing into the heart of the wood, feeling its substance in his mind down to the last fiber. Peace. Harmony. Oneness with the board, with the Master, with the All.
So he has stood for the past three hours.
The Master, too, stands motionless, the board in his hands moving not an inch. He watches his pupil watching the board. Sees his focus. Judges without betraying his thoughts. Stoic as the tree from which the board had been hewn, and filled with as much quiet power.
And then, the Pupil sees it: The very heart of the board, the center of its chi.
//Serpent Strikes Its Prey...//
His fist lashes out, strikes the board, passes cleanly through it...
...and withdraws, leaving the board unharmed.
The Master lowers the board. Holds the Pupil's eyes. Nods.
"Lau Kaozu. You have come back to the first challenge and have surpassed its secret. Where once you broke the board, now you strike without harm.
"It is time."
Lau Kaozu bows, not a bead of sweat glistening on his shaved head. "How shall I serve, Master?"
The Master grunts. "I am no longer your Master. These decisions are yours to make, these wisdoms yours to find."
Lau Kaozu -- pupil no more -- ponders this before speaking. "Soon the Great City will arrive once more. Is there wisdom to be found there?"
"Yes. There is wisdom to be found in all places. But this you know," he quietly chides.
Lau bows his head. "Then I will go there. I will seek wisdom. I will seek allies. I will find a way to free our land from the Emperor's tyranny."
The Master -- Lau's Master no longer -- nods sharply, then gestures to the door of the dojo. "Go. Seek. Learn."
They exchange bows as equals.
As Masters.
*****
Lau Kaozu stands at the outskirts of Yucheng. The land slopes down before him to sunlight glinting on the water between the rice paddies.
He wears only in yellow robes and sandals. He carries no weapons, no provisions. These, he knows, will be found, if they need be found.
He waits.
"Lau Kaozu!"
Lau looks up from his reverie to regard the speaker -- the leader of a platoon of 12 armored warriors bearing bow, sword, and spear, their armor of crimson and gold glinting in the morning sun.
The Emperor's men.
"Lau Kaozu!" the leader repeats. He raises his hand, and six of his men ready their bows. "You are accused of treason against the Emperor. The penalty for such an unholy act is execution, to be dealt at once!"
He drops his hand. The archers fire their arrows.
//Frog Catches the Fly...//
Lau's open hand whips through the air before him, snatching the arrows from their flight. In a single smooth motion, he spins about and returns them to their source. The archers choke and gurgle, grasping at the arrows piercing their throats.
With a cry of rage, captain orders his remaining men to charge. They hesitate but a moment before lowering the points of their spears and obeying.
Lau Kaozu awaits their approach.
//Deer Leaps to the Hilltop...//
Lau launches himself into the air like a crane out of the water as the soldiers lunge forward. He lands lightly on one outthrust spear, crouching down to snatch two of its brethren from their owners and thrusting them deep their chests. Then he hops from the spear shaft onto the soldier's shoulders, quickly snapping his neck with a neat twist of his feat. A back flip brings him back to the ground in front of the dead soldier before he slumps to the ground, giving him time to whip the spear from his hand, crush the windpipe of the warrior on his left with its shaft, and impale the remaining soldier cleanly through his armor on its point.
The captain is neither wise nor a coward. Which is why he now rushes to the attack now himself, his sword blade swinging in a cold, deadly arc.
Lau watches him impassively.
//Turtle Enters Its Shell...//
The blade strikes Lau's flesh with a ring like steel on stone.
And shatters.
Lau looks at the captain.
The captain looks from the hilt of his broken sword to Lau.
The captain flees with a cry of terror.
Lau shakes his head as he watches him go, then shoulders his pack and returns to his vigil.
The air at the base of the hill begins to cloud and distort in a great arc the length of the entire village. The villagers chatter excitedly and gather around to watch.
The distortion fades. Beyond it, stretching to the horizon, waits the Great City in all its infinite variety.
Many of the City's equally varied denizens hurry through the portal, having waited for this very event to visit and to trade. Many villagers pass in the opposite direction, having likewise anticipated the City's arrival.
Lau Kaozu is among them.
*****
He comes awake in an alleyway, not sure how he's gotten there. Attempting to collect himself, he stands up, pulls his dirty brown duster tight, and walks out into the street.
He knows _not_ how to comprehend what he sees. The only thing that saves him from the madness that nearly overwhelms him is what seems to be amnesia. The man doesn't know a thing about himself: no name, no address, no memories. But he has little time for self reflection. Around him walks beings, some humanoid, and some distinctly unhumanoid. Looking out to the horizon, he sees only cityscape,stretching as far as the eye can see in all directions. It is daylight, though not the way he has always known it. He can see the sun, or, a sun, directly above him, though this one has a distinctly blue tinge to it. Where ever he looks, there seems to be ghost images of more suns over various parts of the cityscape, though they do not seem totally in sink with reality. Whatever that had become.
Question after question enters his mind, wondering where on earth he had come. The only answer he can come up with is just that: somehow, he was no longer on earth. That thought made his head hurt even more, so he shakes it off, and decides to just try and find some answers.
Having no idea of the cultures he would be interacting with, he goes about his way. As time passes, be becomes tired, hungry, and even more frustrated. He has been able to learn that he'd somehow arrived in some kind of interworldly connection point, whatever that was.
Walking on, he enters what appears to be some sort of Chinatown.
As he goes down the street, he sees a man running down the towards him, followed by two men carrying sticks, obviously intending harm.
Lau Kaozu sits on the iron bench by the cobblestone street and eats noodles from a wooden bowl. His chopsticks are like a natural extension of his hand.
There _is_ much to learn in the Great City, he has already found -- even so close to home. It is a place of many strange wonders. So many that it is an effort for him to maintain his focus and pluck the berries of wisdom from this vast, disordered tree.
Stepping between the running man and his pursuers, he drops into what seemed to be a fighting stance. Not knowing why he knew how to do it, the man just sighs and gets ready to fight, not knowing which side of the fight he was entering. But he has wandered frustrated and fruitless long enough. He craves action. And that is exactly what he is about to get.
Lau sets his completed meal aside and observes the developing confrontation with the detached interest of a scientist. The one man seeks to aid the other who flees... and to find his own ki, although Lau suspects he does not know this himself.
Much wisdom, indeed.
The first attacker tucks into a roll, jabbing him in the stomach, then elbowing him in the face as he rises from the roll. The attacker swings his empty arm with the intent to clothesline the man, but he catches the arm, spins the attacker around, and lifts, splintering his elbow. Still holding onto attacker number one's arm, he kicks the man hard in the back, hurling him into a food stand.
Pleased with himself, the man turns towards the second attacker, and ducks just in time to avoid the swipe of the man's staff. He does not avoid the man's knee raise, however, and finds his nose quite broken. Ignoring the second stab he's recieved in the stomach in the last thirty seconds, he grabs the attacker by his shirt collar.
"I _HATE_ it when _PEOPLE_ _HIT_ _ME_ _IN_ _THE _FACE_!" he says, emphasizing each word with a headbut to the attackers face. As he drops the man to the ground, he's unable to tell where the blood on the man has come from. He reaches up, pushes back his medium length brown hair that is now sticky with gore from the fight, and looks around for the individual his has intervened for. As is always the case,the man is nowhere to be found.
"What a surprise..." he says, throwing his hands up in the air in disgust.
Reaching down, he grabs the fallen staff as he wips his bloodied face on the part of the attacker's shirt sleeve he rips off.
"You fight well," Lau observes, suddenly standing a respectful distance away. "But why do you fight?"
Startled, the man tucks into a short roll comes up in a defensive posture a small distance away, staff held at the ready. He looks at the speaker for a moment, notices his relaxed stance, and assumes another attack is not this man's objective.
Relaxing himself, the man says "I doon't know", slipping into a slight brogue accent. He comes up short, directing a somewhat surprised glance towards himself, before continuing.
"He looked hungry, and that's something I've come to appreciate, myself" he says, reaching down and plucking up a few coines off the ground beside the unconcscious man and tossing them to the stand vender. Taking some food for himself, he turns back saying "I assumed he was running after being caught stealing some food. Also, these guys," he indicates towards to two men "didn't seem in too forgiving a mood."
Lau nods as he considers this, then bows.
"Lau Kaozu," he says. "I am stranger here -- a traveler in search of the wisdoms this place may offer. I am in your debt for showing me one of them."
The man puts the last of his food in his mouth before wiping the rest of the blood off his hand.
"I'm afraid I have no name to give you in return," he says, extending his arm in greeting.
Lau eyes the proffered arm, the clasps it awkwardly, as if the gesture is unfamiliar.
"As for wisdom," he chuckles, "I'm afraid I just went on instinct. Any help I can give to you, though, is yours. I'm also afraid I'm quite lost, though I have no particular location I'm lost from."
Lau offers him a small smile. "You are a man without a name in a place you do not know. I am in a place I do not know that does not know my name. Perhaps we may learn much together."
The unidentified man's brow furrows slightly as he sorts out what Lau just said, then he chuckles, slowly getting it. "Aye," he replies, chuckling once more and slightly shaking his head.
Reaching down, he deftly removes the other man's coins from his belt pouch.
"Never know when they'll come in handy," he remarks up at Lau.
Lau cants his head. "What is needed, will come.
"Tell me," he continues, strolling down the street and gesturing for the man to join him, "have you seen much of the Great City in your wanderings?"
*****
The three men step through the now-seamless interface from Yucheng. The first man through, wearing a thin beard and mustache and a scarlet robe embroidered with golden dragons, raises his fist. The two that follow, clean shaven and with red dragons on golden robes, halt instantly, legs spaced evenly, arms slightly bent, fists hovering at waist level.
The leader's eyes close as he lifts his head, as if scenting the air. When they open once more, he grins mirthlessly. "He is here."
The old Chinese beggar ogles the newcomers' fine robes. Surely, he thinks, they must be men of great wealth! Perhaps even nobles of Yucheng! Such an opportunity must not be missed!
He shuffles forward to the obvious leader, head bowed humbly. "Please to excuse, most honorable ones! I am very old and sick, and would be most grateful for-"
The old man never sees the movement of the leader's hand.
But his bodiless head strikes the pavement five blocks away a minute and a half later.
*****
"Ahh... only a wee bit. I've only been here a short while, myself. I'm just now gettin' used to seeing all the other races around. What I can remember of my world, there were only humans. Well, the only ones who talked in a language I can understand, anyway," he finishes, feeling quite flustered at his inability to convey his thoughts.
"And what of you? Any wonderous sights you've marveled at here?"
Lau smiles. "What wonders I have seen, you are seeing now. I have taken barely a hundred steps past the gateway to my home. But this place is well known to my people. We trade and travel here, when the way is open to us."
The unidentified man bobs his head as he walks along, staring at the ground while listening to Lau.
He pauses, brow furrowed. "There are many places of which I have heard, and many I have long wished to see. But I think that of all of them, I most wish to see the place known as Rain City."
"Ahck, 'Rain City'? Sounds a bit wet, if ask me. But, as I have no clue where I am, I suppose I'm in no position to complain," he says.
Lau smiles. "It is wet, yes. I am told that it is always raining there. But if what else I have heard is true, that is a burden well worth the bearing."
Suddenly the man stops, a strange feeling forming in his head. It starts in the middle of his forhead, a tingling sensation, then spreads throughout his body, limb by limb. Goosebumbs prickle his skin, and he hears a faint... laughing sound. The laugh of a man gone insane. A shudder rips through his body, slightly pulling him towards the direction he has just come from, before subsiding as suddenly as it had come on.
Turning, the man looks in the direction he felt the tug, but there was nothing there out of the ordinary.
"Huh..." he says.
Lau lays a hand on the man's shoulder. "Are you well, my friend?"
The man scans the street, looking deep into each and every crevice. Nothing seemed more out of the ordinary, well, other than the fact the Nexus itself was very out of the ordinary to him.
"I'm not sure... something.. I.. I feel something...," he manages to stammer out, before shaking himself, and moving back in the direction the two men were previously going.
"Perhaps we _should_ be on our way, eh? To Rain City, my good man," he says, making an attempt at humour.
*****
If M.C. Escher were given the chance to design his own reality, the result would be Rain City.
Here, gravity is entirely a matter of where you put your feet. Buildings, hallways, balconies, arches, and stairways of brick or stone orient themselves according to the six sides of a cube rather than to a single, flat plane. The sky is always cloudy and usually rainy, with water flowing along a dizzying series of gravity-defying channels and waterfalls until finally draining into the Canal.
The city has no indigenous inhabitants and very few permanent settlers, but many pass through on a daily basis. Those unfamiliar with the place are easy to spot: They'll be the ones losing their last meal the first time a step changes the wall to the floor. And probably losing the meal before -that- when the last one hits the wall or ceiling instead of the floor.
Seeing the strange city stirs something deep within the unidentified man's memory. Strange image float to the surface, all of which seem completely unconnected. He sees, first and foremost, swords. Lots of swords. One he sees over and over again. It seems just over two-and-a-half feet long from blade through handle, with a black cord-wrapping for a grip. The blade is straight, with the middle depressed and black as well, with runic script decorating it. It has a wide crossguard, and the handle is just long enough to be held two handed.
Many other swords are also there, and with a flash of pain, memory of battles surges through his mind. He drops to one knee for an instant, holding his head against the pain. He sees many faces, most of which leer at him before fading. One is overlayed over the next, each speaking simultaniously, creating a cochophany of indestinguishable sound. Finally, coming through the rest, he sees a face. This face is very familiar to him, though he cannot place it.
Suddenly, he sees a bright flash of white light, all around him, and he stands in the doorway of a room. The building he is in seeems to be made of old stone, brownish in color. Looking over his shoulder, a church is evident, though it is not a big one. The ceiling is quite high, and the seats fill the medium sized room all the way to the back stone wall. Turning back in the direction he was facing originally, he sees another room, this one apparently someone's chambers and also doubling as an office. Behind a large wooden desk, hunched over some paper sits a monk. Standing he wound be quite tall, though he has very little meat to his frame, causing his brown robes to sit awkwardly on his thin frame. His hair, also thin, is cut very short, though not quite severly, and his angular face is set in a grim look of concentration.
The man finishes his writing, sits up slightly, and examines his work.
Satisfied, he places his white feather plume pen in the bottle of black in before him, sits back, and finally looks up at the man. A slight smile comes to his face, the smile a person gets at the surprise of seeing a friend after a very long absence.
"Well, I see you've finally decided to see me, my old friend," he says in English, though with a very heavy Parisian accent. Standing up, he is indeed very tall, standing well over six feet. He comes around his desk, hands sliding into the overly large sleeves of his monks robe.
He walks up to the unidentified man, and places his hand on his shoulder.
"Be welcome, Erik."
The unidentified man, unidentified no longer, looks down at the ground with a look of a person who is slowly clearing the fog on his brain. Still looking somewhat confused, he looks back up at the monk, who is once again smiling.
As he looks at the man, a name rises through the fog, and afixes itself to the narrow face.
And again the white light flashed.
*****
All of which means that the place is everything Lau has heard it to be. He places one hand on a stone archway to steady himself, but he smiles.
"It is very beautiful," he observes, "but difficult for the mind to accept. Like the Great City itself."
He looked up from his kneeling position to see Rain City once more. Confused, he looks back to the ground, wondering what had just happened.
"We need not stay, if this place discomforts you so," Lau says, offering his companion a hand up. His voice is a careful neutral, only a slight cant of his head betraying his concern.
*****
And just outside of Rain City, on the far side of an upward-flowing waterfall and through a sideways arch, the floating metallic orb of a robot hovercam hums to itself as its lens focuses on the pair...
*****
...and conveys its image to the retinal heads-up display of a very tall, very blonde, very beautiful high-tech Peeping Tom a mere reality away.
//Damn. I'd hoped Scotty there might be a bit of a spark, the way he dusted those guttermites. Now he's just looking like a sickie.//
The view on the display shifts left and zooms in on the face of the newbie from Yucheng. //Oh, well,// she yawns, idly chewing on a Super Cherry Wowzer!(TM) stimstick. //Maybe I'll get lucky. Tall, Yellow, and Handsome-in-a-Zen-Puppydog-Way there looks just boring enough to be a Fu Wiz out on a spree.//
She smiles. //Only one way to find out...//
Then she freezes, the camera panning back to reveal the two Asians stalking along a wall toward "her boys" (as she's already come to think of them) with murder in their eyes and scarlet dragons on their yellow-robed backs.
Her smile broadens. //Make that -two- ways.//
A second retinal desplay pops up to the left of the first, this one solid black with a white cursor flashing at the end of an extended block of text. The cursor launches across the screen, leaving a trail of fresh text in its wake:
++...They paused at the threshold of the wonder that was Rain City, overawed by its beauty. Blissfully unaware that the ugly side of the City was about to put in a bloody, bone-snapping appearance...++
*****
"No, no, I'm alright," the man replies. "It seems my memories are trying to return to me. I had... some kind of vision along with it,I believe. I'm fine now, though."
Shaking his head, he stands, and says, "I believe I also now remember my name. Part of it, at least. I'm Erik, or so I was called in my memory-vision." Reaching out, he retrieves the staff he dropped, and walks to one of the pathways, his vision following it up the side of the nearest building.
Sighing he attempts to walk up the path onto the building, and starts "Well, here goes nothi..."
With a _thud_ he lands on his back, the wind knocked out of him, staff again rolling away. He lets his head fall to the ground and groans, wondering just how many times he's going to have to pick the wooden shaft up.
Without rising, he turns his head towards Lau, asking "What'd I do wrong?"
Lau smiles. "I have been in this place no longer than have you, my friend. I do not kno-"
A *CRACK* cuts off his thought as he spins about, arm snapping up to intercept a fist-shaped blur. In the space of two seconds, Lau catches a second shot to his solar plexus, but a brutal roundhouse kick sends him flying. It isn't until he reorients himself in midair to land on the wall -- now "his" floor -- and looks up that he gets a good look at his yellow-robed attacker, now charging down the wall toward him. And that same glance reveals that this attacker has not come alone...
Erik has barely acknowledged what is going on by the time Lau and his attacker are up on the wall. Rolling, he comes to his feet while grabbing up his staff yet again. More by luck than by plan, he intercepts the second attacker, also in a yellow robe, before he can join the fray.
Spinning the wooden pole in his hands to create a kind of shield, he deflects the attacker's first few probing blows. The man feints left, spinning back to attack Erik's ride side almost before he moved to intercept. Three quick kicks, the first to Erik's right knee, the second to his ribcage, and the third to the face. Erik is sent tumbling, and the staff is torn from his grip by the attacker.
"Great, we would have to run into Bruce Lee's evil cousin, of all people," he grumbles, fighting down the pain and assuming a defensive posture, all the while looking at his surrounding for some sort of advantage...
Lau looks for the same as the Red Dragon leaps into a graceful tornadic kick aimed at Lau's head.
Lau leaps straight up to meet him, somersaulting in midair to catch the kick on his forearm. He reorients himself in mid-leap to land on the wall -- the floor the Red Dragon just left. The Red Dragon's momentum, meanwhile, carries him to the wall from which Lau has just leapt.
Erik blocks the next attack, misses the one following, then blocks the third. Then he -felt- the second attack.
Coughing from yet another kick to the ribs, he lashes out with his left arm, backfisting his attacker on the right side of his face. The man rolls with the motion, then leaps up from his roll to a wall nearby, rebouding off of it to once again land an attack.
Standing and holding the side of his head that was just bashed in, Erik grumbles "No fair, you can't split into threes like that..."
*****
A hovercam hums. Its owner grins delightedly.
*****
Lau's mind swims. He has been trained to adapt his thinking to any environment, but -this-...!
Fortunately, the Red Dragon seems no better off. He snarls and backflips to the wall -- Lau's ceiling. The two glare at each other, inverted, for a moment... then both leap to the attack, exchanging a hail of blows as they pass and trade floors and ceilings.
A leaping back-kick takes the Dragon from Lau's ceiling to his wall.
Lau ripostes with a spinning backfist that carries him from floor to ceiling.
The Dragon ducks the blow, then leaps at Lau with a side thrust kick as he follows him to the ceiling, now the floor for both.
Kick-Block-Punch-Backhand-Chop-Block. Fists and feet flash like striking serpents.
Picking the center version of his opponent, Erik lauches at him, swinging both fists wide as to hit the other two. He passes right through the man he went for, and found his left arm grasped by his robed assailant.
The man -twists-, and the sickening crunch of Erik's elbow is audible over the hiss of pain that escapes his lips. Squinting against the pain, he reaches up with his right hand and jams his fingers into the man's eyes as hard as he can. Blood spurts through his fingers, along with the man's mushed eyeballs as he releases Erik's broken left arm.
Wasting no time, Erik steps to the man's left side, simultaneously kneeing him in the solar plexus. He then grabs the man's head in a reverse head-lock, and -jerks- up as hard as he can.
Looking to Lau, Erik drops the broken attacker to the ground.
All the while, Lau's mind is gauging his surroundings. Weighing possibilities. Looking for weaknesses. Looking for an edge.
And finding one.
He leaps up away from his opponent, reorients to the ceiling, and then...
//Monkey goes to the mountain...//
..."bounces" from wall to ceiling to wall to floor to ceiling, his foot leading the way to the face of the disbelieving Dragon. His momentum snaps the Dragon's head backwards, killing the man even before his head smashes like an overripe gourd beneath Lau's foot.
*****
The woman smiles as he watches the scene play out on her retinal display. //OH, yes. A Fu Wiz for sure.//
*****
Beyond the fight, a man, stitched by scars and short in stature, watches. The taut umbrella in his hand catches the patter of rain as it spills from the clouds across the steps. The steps cut across the horizon on a dizzying diagonal.
A young woman sits on the steps. Her silk is the colour of the careful violet. Her hair, black as a bead of ink, is tidy, and untouched by the rain. The umbrella holds steady. Her body is tucked delicately, sparing her stone-grazing silks the touch of moisture. Her eyes are closed.
The man grunts softly. Feminine eyes open halfway, revealing colour dark as crickets in moonlight. Her lips remain unmoved, their gentility porcelain on the heart-shaped face.
She wonders who they are.
She wonders where they are going.
She wonders if they will help her.
But most of all, she watches.
*****
Another soft, intoning sound from the man, and the woman slides to her feet. The fight is plainly over, the victors stepping free of the entrails of battle.
The steps are descended. The woman's movements are more precise than the cut of the stair, her feet demure enough not to venture beyond embroidered hem, her hands untraceable beneath the careful drape of her sleeves.
She stops beyond the reach of the victims and their defeat. The man stops beside her, never entirely beneath the umbrella's protection. Rain catches on his dark hood and sends his breath into a soft mist. Through the haze of lowered lashes, the woman keeps her eyes on the two.
Her voice is quiet, though directed, seeming to find its way through the raindrops to their ears.
"Are you very great?" she asks. "And are you very good?"
Looking up from his companion's apparent victory, Erik notices the pair, and also, the rain.
"Great," he says, hair beginning to plaster to his face, "couldn't make it anymore perfect, could you?" he states, sending a meaningful glance up, where the sky -should- be. His face scrunches in momentary confusion however at the site of an onlooker who had been watching the battle wave down at him.
Sighing and shaking his head, he looks down muttering "I'm never goin' te get used..." before gasping and grabbing his broken left arm.
Gritting his teeth, he quickly twists it back towards its correct angle before emitting a string of curses.
"Begging your pardon..." he says through clenched teeth, "but I -wish- I was very great. Kinda good might be a better notion."
Looking to Lau, who appears unharmed, Erik states "he might fit the 'very great' mold a bit better."
"ARG!!" he says, twisting again.
Lau shakes his head sadly as he walks away from his fallen opponent. Not a trace of gore besmirches his sandals. "A very great man," he says, "would not have had to fight at all."
The woman remains still, though her companion nods twice in rapid succession.
He bows to the newcomers. "I am Lau Kaozu, and it is my honor to meet you. How may I serve you? In return, I would humbly ask only that you tell us where we are to find a healer for my companion."
The cricket-eyes blink once as the words resonate beyond them. Drifting, her gaze settles restlessly. Not on the man, but on his gesture, as though the bow were an entirely separate entity. She takes a delicate step back, the man maintaining her shelter before a single drop ventures too closely.
She looks to the injured fighter, the distance in her eyes ebbing slightly. She had not noticed his pain. A fleeting glance to her companion receives a momentary softening in his expression. The confusion, that had lasted so briefly in her mind, eases. So much communicated without a word.
"I know of a healer, of a kind." She turns, smoothly as a pinwheel, and sets her small steps in another direction. The man accompanies her. It would seem this is the best invitation the others will be given.
Lau bows a second time before following. "I am most deeply in your debt. But... if it would not be wrong of me to ask... may I know your names, that I may know whom it is I thank?"
"Aye, and I thank yeou as well," states Erik, again slipping into a brouge accent. For a moment his brows furrows, and he looks to his injured arm in confusion.
The woman offers one long, considering look. "You may know our names, but you may not know them now." Her gaze buries itself in the horizon. The man watches them until they walk to the "healer".
*****
In the distance, in the shadow of a column on the "ceiling", the fist of a red-robed arm clenches in frustration. An angry red corona swells between the fingers, bathing the rainwashed darkness in blood.
*****
And just beyond the archway leading into the next reality, the lens of the hovercam irises shut...
*****
...and its owner grins the most dazzling grin money can buy.
//Oh, BABY! Annie's gotta new star on the rise!
//You *are* my *bitch*!//
*****
The pair slip beneath an archway, narrowly missing a rush of water which has chosen this path of stone for a gutter, and begin to descend a set of stairs. On either side, steps and balconies jut out from surroundings the colour of slate, forming nearly a tunnel of the abstract pieces. The steps under their feet become wider and closer together, as the tunnel opens above them and the framing balconies grow further away. They grow into low buildings, the stairs into a street.
Around them, establishments have as little in common as a smattering of wildflowers in a field.
"There is what you seek," she says. Her face is turned to regard a cinderblock of a building. "Here is where we will wait."
Lau bows a third time. "We will return as soon as we may."
Helping Erik along as best he can, he hurries through a break in the wheeled and hovering traffic at what the street sign claims is the corner of 43rd and Something streets. And the sign above the door of the four-story concrete cube to which they are led names the place the "Three Doctors Clinic".
Erik motions with his head, indicating the sign. "They must be good, if only three of them work here. With so many... inhabitants of this God-forsaken mix-match of worlds, you'd think there would be a flood of patients 'round the clock."
*****
The nurse on duty in the tastefully appointed waiting room takes Erik's information with professional detachment, accepting the questions left blank in the voluminous forms with many a sigh and a tisk.
Erik sighs, glad to be rid of all those questions. It's quite embarrasing to not be able to answer questions about one's self.
"This dunna feel right, Lau. I don't remember ever having to wait in places like this."
Then all that remains is to wait with the many other patients filling the room to see one of the three physicians that comprise the practice's name: Doctors Destruction, Demon, and Death, according to the holographic placard on the wall by the nurse's desk.
Despite his perfect vision, Lau squints at the names. It had seemed to him that he could read and speak whatever it is that is the common language of this strange city, and had accepted that fact as yet another wonder among wonders. But surely he cannot be translating these names correctly...!
Erik also notices the doctors names, and asks "You sure this is a good idea? I mean, 'Doom' 'Demon' and 'Destruction' are definately not what I'd want to hear when...
*THOOOOOM!!!*
The room shudders, as if from some great impact. Dust drifts down from the ceiling. From beyond the door to the examination rooms comes a barrage of ear-splitting, milk-curdling profanity the likes of which Lau has never imagined.
"Again, Lau, -NOT- very conforting..."
As fantastical as the Great City has proven to be thus far, he is *sure* that much of what he hears suggested to the object of the vitriol are physical impossibilities...
Moments later, the door to from the examination rooms bangs open. A truly massive, unkempt, and decidedly unhappy individual ducks his head as he steps into the waiting room.
"I just can't deal with this," mutters Erik, tensing as if expecting some sort of attack.
"And ANOTHER thing, Doc," the newcomer yells back from whence he came, jabbing a sausage-sized finger for emphasis, "If you were that OTHER Doctor Destruction, I'd-!"
"But I am *not* that one," comes the mild reply, vaguely Eastern European in inflection. The voice's owner -- a middle-aged man of handsome features and raven-dark hair streaked with gray at the temples -- follows the huge man into the waiting room. "And that being the case, I would expect a bit more gratitude. It is not every clinic in this city that possesses the equipment -- yes, *including* the hypodermics -- to treat your rather... unusual physiology, Mr. Carlton."
Carl grunts and mutters something under his breath.
"Here is your prescription, Mr. Carlton," the good Doctor says, holding out an indecipherable little note. "And, in the future, may I suggest that before seeking professional... companionship... of _any_ sort, you take appropriate precautions? _Especially_ if you insist on seeking such... _exotic_... varieties."
Erik does his best job of looking sober and concentrating intensly on his wounded arm, fighting the hooks trying to yank up the sides of his mouth.
For his part, Lau watches the exchange with a kind of detached intensity. He does not stare, for that might risk giving offense... yet he quietly misses nothing.
Carl grumbles and snatches the prescription from the doctor's hand. He scans the occupants of the waiting room with his best "Would anyone care to be smashed into bugsnot?" face before stalking out of the clinic. It is a testament to the unusual construction specifications of the place that he is able to slam the door without reducing it to so much shrapnel.
Leaning over to Lau, Erik whispers "Well, that was pleasant, now wasn't it?"
Lau doesn't answer until the door is well and truly shut. "More pleasant than it might have been," he concedes.
Doctor Destruction shakes his head and makes a few notes on his clipboard. Then he, too, scans the waiting room. "Next? Mr..." -- he checks the clipboard -- "...'Erik'?"
Sighing, Erik stands, cradling his left arm so as not to further damage it. When he reaches his feet, however, a frown crosses his features, and he looks down at the appendage.
//Funny, doesn't hurt as much anymore...// he thinks to himself.
Shrugging, he follows the doctor.
While Lau remains in the waiting room, the doctor leads Erik to an examination room. Wasting no time with idle chit-chat, he takes a device resembling an oversized magnifying glass from a wall lined with all manner of outlandish equipment and peers through it at his patient's arm.
And he sighs.
"Mr. Erik," he says tiredly, "why are you wasting my time? I see signs that this arm suffered a break some time ago, yes, but it is quite nearly healed."
Drawing his eyebrows in confusion, Erik looks to the arm. Indeed, as the "Doctor" has stated, it is much better than is was even five minutes ago. Even as he looks on, Erik sees skin, even flesh, start reaching out, grasping at the other torn ends, and melding together, leaving an unblemished, unscared arm.
"I am writing you a prescription for a mild painkiller," he continues, his pen scratching away on his clipboard. "Although, if I may be frank, most regeneratives make do with over-the-counter medications."
"Uhhhmmmm... reg, regen-regenerative? What do you mean, regenerative?" Erik stutters, conprehension fighting to dawn on his mind. Even though he has watched as arm mends itself, he still can't grasp what's happening.
Why on earth is he a 'regenerative'?
From the look the good Doctor gives Erik, he might as well have asked what an "arm" is. He sighs. "'Regenerative', Mr. Erik. 'One who regenerates'. Your body possesses the meta-ability to heal itself. I cannot comment on what limits your particular manifestation of this power may have, although _clearly_," he adds pointedly, "scurrying to the doctor with something as simple as a broken arm is a waste of time."
Numbly, Erik watches as the last traces of damage are smoothed from his one again whole arm. Shaking his head in a sort of yes-no the confused often use, he vaguely mutters something resembling "sorry" and walks back towards Lau and the waiting room. Coming to a stop, he half-turns, saying "ummm... where do I pay?"
"No need, rod!" calls a siren-song of a voice from the door of the clinic. "I'll be tossing the creds on this one!"
Erik turns, growing less and less surprised at the occurence of odd events in this... Nexus. At what he sees, a half-smile leaps to his lips.
The speaker is a leather-clad 6'7" blonde Eurasian woman with a body like a steel model and a smile to melt stone. She casually saunters up to Erik, tossing a wad of megabucks in front of the fuming secretary. Her scent is leather and a spicy musk that makes the head swim.
Looking up at the exotic woman, Erik quickly sketches a bow in greeting.
"You got talent, rod," she tells Erik with a knowing grin, clucking him under the chin.
As she turns to Lau, Erik's head bobs up-and-down slightly to himself in a slightly satisfied mannor, though he wasn't exactly sure as to what "talent" she was alluding to.
"You, too," she adds to Lau, who fairly stumbles over himself as he rises off the sofa to bow in greeting.
"I am not certain... what you mean," Lau says as he rises from his bow, unknowingly echoing Erik's thoughts.
"C'mon, rods," she says in reply, deftly hooking an arm around each of theirs and guiding them toward the door with surprising strength. "Let's 'face."
Erik takes a breath at the rocket-fire speed of the Nexus. He wasn't quite used to being thrown first one way and then the other with no breathing time in between. Still, looking at who was "throwing" them this time was much more to his liking so far.
Lau glances at Erik and shrugs. No knowledge is a bad thing, and some is more pleasurable than others.
"Rods," she says once they're outside, "You both got the chop. I'm gonna see you get the glam, catch?"
Lau looks helplessly around her at Erik.
Erik scrunches his forehead, trying to plow his way through the dialogue. In "chop", he assumed the woman meant ability, or some thing of the like, though ability at what, he wasn't sure. The "glam" could mean anything, though he was thinking it probably either meant money or fame of some sort. But in what way?
Returning Lau's look, Erik does his best to slow the pace, pulling back a bit.
"I'm sorry Miss... I don't think we caught your name? And, not to be impolite, I mean, you did just take care of our little problem back there, but what exactly are we talking about here?"
Her brow furrows at his questions, her eyes flashing like summer lightning... but like lightning, the danger seems to pass quickly. She smiles. "S'cope. You rods are off the line. Haven't had time to scan my vids, firm-T? Tag's Radical Anne, and YOU rods are the sides for my new vid. Maybe _nap_side, for you, rod," she adds, giving Erik a sly grin that leaves nothing to the imagination.
Erik's initial response to Anne's actions and dialogue are lost as she says the last. He caughs, trying to hide the hint of blush that creeps into his face. "Well, umm, I... uhhm..." he stammers out, before finally giving up with an embarrassed laugh and smile.
An old woman, black-toothed and grinning, announces the price of the polished oranges she sells. Each is without bruise or scar. They rest nestled side by side in the tray she bears, which is secured behind her neck with a twisted rope. She nods and repeats her price to the woman and her companion.
Nearly hidden in silk, the young woman's delicate hand extends to accept a pair of coins from the man. Her lips barely secure into a smile, and she offers the coins. They are regarded with scrutiny by the orange-seller. Her nostrils flare, her voice cracking over a curse. The coins slip through wrinkled fingers, rolling across the street corner and out of sight. She jabbers on, her steps taking her back, away from the young woman, who merely watches her.
She hurls one orange before she darts around a corner and out of view. The peel too supple to do any damage, it bounces harmlessly off a robe-clad shoulder. The young woman lets it skid to the ground. Her man moves to pick it up, but she cuts the air with one forbidding hand.
Lau may not follow the flow of the words, but Anne's look and Erik's reaction more than suffice to tell the tale. "Ah... yes... we are most grateful for your generosity," he assures her, bowing as best he can with one arm still in her grip. "But... ah... we must also thank two others who have shown us kindness by taking us to this place for the healing of my friend."
As Anne's impatient scowl begins to darken her face, he desperately scans the sidewalk at the appointed place in search of the benefactors in question.
The woman sees their new companion who, when set beside herself, is the poplar tree to a dwarf willow. Words slip from her mouth, only for the ears of the man holding the umbrella. "Perhaps we have lost them, also." Her sleeve slips back from her pale forearm as she gently lifts one hand. She does not wave it, but waits for his notice. "We are here."
With a bit of effort, Lau manages to steer Anne (and therefore Erik) across the street in the direction of their mysterious benefactors. He smiles sheepishly at them, acutely aware of the tall woman with a powerful grip on his arm.
Erik waves to the pair as best he can as they walk over.
"I wish to thank you again for your assistance," he tells the pair, bowing as much as he's able. "I would also like to meet-"
"You tight with these iced rods?" Anne interrupts, lifting Lau and Erik slightly at the shoulder while smiling to put a runway model to shame. "Maybe there's a slice for you in the vid!"
Erik winces as the sudden jerking motion on his arm, giving Lau a quick glance while Anne's attention is focused on the other pair.
The woman blinks twice, the gesture exacting despite its minutia. "Perhaps," she allows for Anne, before her expression closes to the other woman and her attention directs to Lau and Erik.
"You are welcome to any assistance we can offer." She pauses to glance at the man beside her, nodding very slightly, as a blade of grass might bow at a breath. "If this is a convenient moment to ask for your assistance, in return...
"What do you know of honour?" Her gaze flickers to search their faces fleetingly, still ignoring the presence of the overbearing woman.
"Ooooo, rad line!" Radical Anne enthuses. She releases the men's arms and nudges them forward, fading back a few steps herself. Simultaneously, her three hovercams glide forward to cover the upcoming exchange from three different angles.
The woman hesitates, but the pause is only a complement to her quiet words, as the moment of silence between raindrops.
After a quick uncomfortable glance at Anne and her 'cams, Lau turns the totality of his focus upon the woman and her query. His answer, when it comes, bubbles up from a wellspring of cool, unwavering conviction.
"Honor is the truth one tells to one's self."
"Your answer is a confident one, though your honour and mine are not the same.
"Mine has been taken away, though it is my own loss."
She hesitates again, her head tilting gently to the side, as though catching birdsong on the breeze.
"And now that you know I have none, you cannot help me. You will spit at my feet and leave, to cleanse yourselves of having spoken with me."
The smaller man beside her watches Lau and Erik with unmasked distrust, and ready dislike.
Erik moves forward, no longer a silant participant. "M'lady, I believe you're wrong about yourself. You have shown much honor in leading us here, in helping me. I will do my best to return that help in kind."
Lau nods. "Honor cannot be taken, only set aside. And honor sought is honor found." He bows. "My assistance is yours, if you will have it."
"Great flickworks," Anne breathlessly observes. "I'll scan that scene!"
Her hovercams hum on, their unblinking eyes greedily lapping up the proceedings like thirsty pups.
The woman keeps her silence. She studies the devices with care, before returning her attention to the two men who claim to be willing helpers. She takes a deep breath, which somehow is not marked by a shift in posture, by a hair disturbed, by the slightest move of a hand.
"I chose to study, rather than marry. My family has forgotten my face, and forbids my name. My attire and my coin must tell of what I lack. This cannot end until I have retrieved honourable status, and status cannot be obtained until this ends.
"I risk no losses. I share my life with no one, but my servant. I do not have to do this, but I must."
Apparently undisturbed by her contradictions, she holds the gaze of the others with dark eyes that should be, by custom, shielded, or shying away.
"I wish to join you. Wherever you are going, whatever you are doing, it cannot be more hopeless than this."
"That is small enough payment for your kindness," Lau replies, "and is easily given. My quest is not a hopeless one, for I seek wisdom, and there is always wisdom to be had. But I cannot say when it will come to an end, for who can say what wisdom is sufficient?
"For my friend," he continues, indicating Erik, "the search is more finite, as he seeks his lost self. _That_, above all else, is a wisdom I now seek: For I search for all wisdom, while he requires but one."
One corner of the woman's mouth creases gently into a smile as fleeting as a summer snow. "Perhaps it is the same quest. When all wisdom is found, does it not complete a picture of one truth?"
She eyes the cameras again, her momentarily lighted expression returning to its earlier placidity. "I am Mei, and this," she says with a fluid gesture to her companion, "is Man, for he has no name."
Erik's eyes scrunch a bit at this. Given his present condition concerning his memories, Erik feels a kinship to Man. At least Erik could remember his name, if not much else of himself.
Lau bows to them both in turn.
"Is this woman also seeking?"
Anne nods vigorously. "Seekin' hot vids. Always."
By way of illustration, one of the hovercams moves in for a "reaction shot" from Mei.
Mei squints slightly, searching for purpose behind the mechanically buzzing device. She speculates, and concludes nothing. /The grazing mare tries to comprehend the growing grass,/ she thinks to herself, and barely smiles.
"Woah, wait a minute, what do you mean, vids? Videos? Like we're on television?" asks Erik, comprehension slowly dawning.
"Straight slotting, rod!" Anne nods, beaming. "But -vids-, not boob-box. Gonna dance the -wide- wall!"
"Ah... yes," Lau responds, brow furrowed. "I do not pretend to understand your words. But if your... 'vids'..." -- he glances curiously at the hovercam hovering near his head -- "may be created without hindering a search for wisdom... I do not object to you traveling with us. If my companions do not object...?"
Mei's head bows for a moment. This appearance of humility neatly disguises her gaze sliding askance to Man. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and she lifts her eyes again. "How could one object? You show the same generosity without discrimination."
Erik thinks a moment before responding. "No, I don't suppose there's any reason to object," he begins, turning towards Anne and continuing "but I would like to know who'll be seeing the "vids", and for what purpose."
Anne grins as she rubs her thumb across four upright fingers in front of Erik's face. "Them with the creds, rod! Them with the creds!
"Null presper, rod!" she adds, giving Erik a friendly pat on the shoulder that feels like a tap with a solid steel bar. "You're in the creds, you get the creds!" She laughs, a bubbling hotspring of high-dollar liquid charisma.
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