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Episode Twenty-Two: Movie Night (Revised)



In a dark city where even the monsters don’t dare to come out at midnight, one man has the guts to ignore his wounds and stride out into the shadows to protect the innocent.

That man is you: Dieselnoi Worawoot. Magic Private Eye.

Ka-pow! Brass horns. Bass line. Wah-wah pedal. Roll credits.

…Internal monologue aside, are you sure you can do this, Diesel?

Thanks to your Guru’s magical enchantment, you can’t feel any pain. But you realize you should be feeling lots of pain, and that fact alone is causing you a lot of stress.

Every step you take is clumsy and off-balance as you mentally compel the joints in your legs to move.

You feel like the centipede in that parable that tried to think about moving all one hundred of his limbs. You’re staggering along like a zombie on stilts. The slightest breeze could knock you over.

Still, Mandrake Kayne, a seasoned monster hunter, is slowly backing away from you. You must look more intimidating than you feel.

“Get away from Fortuna, Kayne,” you rasp. “Also, stop trying to stab us.” You raise your voice. “Also, give me back my damned hat!”

Kayne’s left arm twitches, briefly pressing against the side of his long coat like a student holding a book under his armpit.

You feel a sense dread: has he made contact with the demon inside your porkpie hat? Worse, has he left creases and wrinkles in your favorite piece of fashion?

(Yes to both your questions, Diesel, although I won’t tell you that.)

Kayne’s cold eyes lock onto you like the sensors of a heat-seeking missile. “How are you up and walking about?” he asks. He narrows his eyes. “Did you forsake your humanity?”

“That’s none of your business,” you say, reaching out your hand. “Give me my hat back and leave these people alone.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sarah Mankiller step in front of Fortuna, raising her homemade riot shield to protect the girl.

Felix Lynn is slumped over a park bench, groaning as he tries to pick himself back up. His shirt and pants are shredded, Incredible Hulk style.

As for Fausta Orobas...

Your breath catches for a moment.

Blood runs down the side of her jaw, staining her green-hoodie bright red. Her right arm dangles at her side, covered in long red gashes; it’s almost like a wild animal was playing tug-of-war with her limb.

You know, intellectually, that she could have gotten hurt worse. That she chose to confront Mandrake Kayne of her own will. That blaming yourself for her wounds will disrespect the choices she made.

And yet...and yet…

Mandrake Kayne, ever the consummate professional, takes advantage of your guilt-fueled distraction. He draws a throwing spike from his sleeves and snaps it at your head.

Your bronze jian leaps up from the cobblestones, flies forward, and bats the steel throwing spikes out of the air. The metal projectile falls and clatters across the cobblestones.

Kayne bares his teeth and draws more spikes from his sleeve.

Swoosh-swoosh-swoosh.

Tink-tink-tink.

The bronze sword flies back into your grasp. Half-melted metal shards drop to the ground.

Kayne looks down at his broken projectiles, then back up at you. You’re certain now: the dark eyes behind his tangled layers of bandages are smoldering with rage.

“Also,” you say, stretching out your hand, “give me back my phone. I’m not made of money, and I don’t want to lose my contacts.”

“You had everything,” Kayne whispers.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You say.

“A family that monsters couldn’t hurt. Power earned without any pain.” A look of resentment crosses Kayne’s face, visible even beneath his charred, sweat-stained facial bandages. “How could you give that up?”

“…well, there’s no such thing as power without pain, is there?” you say. “If you’re not feeling the pain, someone else does.” You shrug. “I didn’t want to be a coward that looks away. That’s all.”

Mandrake Kayne glowers at you and throws a smoke bomb to the ground.

Unlike ninjas in Saturday morning cartoons, Kayne does not teleport away. As the pale white smoke spreads you see him turn and run. As the smoke dissolves, you see him vanish down a darkened alley.

If he’s lucky, that alley won’t be the one with poisonous snails and acidic webs.

You hope he’s not lucky.

Sarah Gold lets her homemade riot shield bang against the ground. “Sh—” she starts to say. “–Darn,” she amends at the least minute, trembling as she leans against her shield. “You okay, chum?” she asks, turning to Fortuna.

Fortuna stands there in the middle of the street, trembling like a sapling in the breeze, face as pale as a sheet. She sniffles slightly.

“Oh,” Sarah says softly.

Fausta Orobas walks over to her daughter, bloody face blank. She goes to one knee and wraps her arms around her daughter—her healthy arm and her mangled arm both.

Fortuna hiccups and buries her face in her mother’s shoulder.

“You were very brave,” Fausta whispers, “and I’m so proud of you. You don’t have to do anything else.”

“Mmm-mmm,” Fortuna says, her voice muffled.

“Ready to keep going?” Fausta asks.

Fortuna separates herself from her mother, draws an arm across her face and nods. “Yeah,” she says with a sniffle.

Fausta smiles and ruffles her daughter’s hair with her clean, non-bloody hand.

Fortuna fidgets under her mother’s hand. “Stop it!” she squeaks, pawing awkwardly at her mother’s arm.

Fausta chuckles. After a moment, Fortuna giggles, laughing with relief along with her mother.

Neither Fausta nor Fortuna notices Felix Lynn, awake and upright, silently staring at them with a look of hollow despair.

Sarah pats Lynn on the shoulder. Lynn closes his eyes and lays his own hand on top of Sarah’s, metal-sheathed fingertips brushing against slender, honey-brown knuckles.

“Kayne’s still out there,” you say, scanning the shadowed surroundings of the Goblin Market. “We probably shouldn’t be standing out here in the open.”

“Agreed,” Fausta says briskly. “Fortuna?”

“Oh!’ Fortuna says. “Yes! On it!” She taps on her phone’s screen a few times before holding it aloft. “Cookie!” she shouts, pointing her device at the ground. “I cast you!”

Her phone screen shimmers. Cookie the Pit Bull falls out of the phone and lands on the ground, tiny as a puppy but proportioned like an adult. He shakes his ruff, trots over to Fortuna’s feet and licks her shoelaces.

“Good boy,” Fortuna says to Cookie. “Can you smell anything? Can you smell danger?”

Cookie turns around and sniffs at the air. His pointy ears and tail perk up. A low rumble spills from his throat as he stares up at the rooftop of an apartment complex.

“Is it that Kayne guy?” Fortuna asks Cookie. “Is he watching us?”

Cookie tilts his head to the side.

Fortuna blinks and crouches down by her summoned dog’s side. “Is it that big, mean Ogre?”

“Woof,” Cookie says.

Felix Lynn inhales sharply. With a brief glance at Sarah, he pulls himself away from her and walks forward a few steps.

“PHILIP!” he shouts, cupping his metal-sheathed hands to his mouth, his static-laced voice echoing across the empty Goblin market. “ARE YOU THERE?”

No response.

“WE NEED TO TALK!” Felix shouts. “PLEASE!”

Fausta narrows her bloodshot eyes. “We need to get out of the open,” she says, turning toward Sarah. “Can you make us invisible?”

“Give me a second,” Sarah says. She brushes a stray lock of hair away from her antlers and weaves a trail of pungeant smoke through the air with her vaporizer.

She opens her eyes and grimaces. “No can do, chum.” She says too Fausta. “There’s one, maybe two people looking at us, and they want to see us. I could make us look like trash cans or swap our appearances, but invisibility’s right out.”

“Then we need to get indoors and out of sight,” Fortuna concludes.

“I know where we can go,” you tell her. You order your body to move, to hobble and stumble across the empty market square toward a closed, shuttered movie theater with a familiar white marquee above the entrance:

“THE DELPHIC NICKELODEON. NOW SHOWING: PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE”.

You reach out to knock on the door.

“Don’t!” a soft-pitched voice shouts from inside the theater.

You pause, hand frozen an inch away from the door’s handle. Clouds part overhead, allowing the moon to shine down in its full glory. You see the faint sheen of delicate razor wire glimmering with moonlight, stretched across the doorframe.

The door creaks and opens inward. A green felt dinosaur puppet pokes out of the crack in the door, followed by a wide-eyed fellow with a mop of curly hair.

“Don’t move an inch!” Macintosh Crate tells you all. “Don’t even sneeze! That mummified knife nut spent hours setting up all that cheese wire! Who knows what else he rigged?” Their eyes widen. “Maybe there’s a bomb!”

The dino-puppet on Mac’s hand gestures wildly. Macintosh blinks, then nods to himself several times.

“Good point Theo. Never mind,” they tell you, opening the theater door wider. “Theo told me he didn’t see any bombs, and that I should stop being such a head case.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, giving the theater clerk a thumbs-up. “Thanks for the save, Mac.”

"You’re welcome, I guess...?" Macintosh looks over my shoulder. “Oh, hi, Sarah!” they say, waving cheerfully with their puppet-free hand.

“Hello, Mac,” Sarah says, hefting her riot shield and smiling sheepishly. “Hello, Theo!”

The dinosaur puppet bows politely.

“Oh!” Macintosh exclaims, eyes locking onto Fausta, Fortuna, and Felix. “It’s you guys!”

Fausta inhales sharply.

Fortuna looks at the puppet on Macintosh’s hands and tilts her head to the side in confusion.

“Um,” Felix says. “Have we met?”

“Yes! No!” Macintosh replies. “We haven’t met yet, you see. But we’re meeting right now. I’ve seen a film in which we meet right now…gah, it’s a non-linear thing!” They start hyperventilating slightly. “You need to come inside now!” they tell you all. “But don’t come in just yet! We need to get rid of the razor filaments! And then you’ll need to come inside right away!”

Macintosh turns towards Fausta. “That mummified hit man’s going to stab you in the back!” They blurt out. “We’ve seen it happen with our own eyes!”

Theo nods his felt head in frantic agreement.

Next Chapter: Interlude: The Good Father (Revised)