spinning gears, chasing shadows

Taking stock of the situation...

My mind is suddenly back to its original configuration because the astral form of the same person who yanked me from New Erebus is now stuck in my head. If I try to remove him myself, I might become Aleister's slave again. I'm not even going to ponder what I feel I should do to him for double-crossing me. I'm sure he can see those thoughts clearly.

Bloodwing gave me one last chance to be Qlippothic Projects again...and I refused...

If I get anywhere near the Bloodwine my addiction will kick in again. It was strong enough to make all of Aleister's dolls mutiny. That means my only fuel source is...blood...*holds stomach, rocking*

The Seraph transferred the Novem crew to Winterfell, and apparently that's where we're staying. Why? Why no ransom? Who paid them?

Winterfell...this is where Kira found my brother after Aleister changed him.

*gears ticking*

Aleister's lair was here. Is it still? YES. He has centuries of machinery too delicate to move! HE'S STILL IN WINTERFELL!

*looks up as the shadow of the Midas passes over her*

They're after his casks! The Dolls know where he is!

*holsters aethersword and ties back her hair*

Even if I start fighting them over the Bloodwine, it's worth it to make the vampire PAY.

*slips on a glowing bracelet* Anti-Push magic...almost obselete in this age, but maybe it will protect me against Marcus's mental powers.

*heads inland, chasing after the shadow of the ship*

No Honor among Pirates!

The demon crew made a new outfit for me, befitting a pirate queen. The firefighter outfit was a poor refit anyway. I won't even mention what that horrid bear did to my outfit. The giant hook was a nice touch. By the time I floated down on a cavor-kite (what Aleister named the flying machines he gave to the Blood Dolls), the Stage Crew had already slapped together an authentic-looking pirate's tavern made of driftwood...except for the large teal sign. They bowed to me nervously and hopped on a skyboat back to the Midas.

The event was excellent, what turned out to be Novem's last Babbage event was surely it's finest! However things took an unexpected turn. For whatever reason the crew of the Seraph decided to kidnap the Novem staff: Lulu, Lily and myself! To make matters worse the AI on the barge had a distinct dislike for me and kept trying to eject me from the ship through magnetic resonance. Thank the Maker I had that hook! I held onto the railing for my dear pseudo-unlife!

We finally landed in Winterfell. For the sake of protecting my employers, I dropped my aether-sword. And then...


...they left!

No ransom? No parley? Not even a parlor game nor a brash proposal? The other ladies rested in the pumpkin cottage that looked strangely familiar while I tried to hail the Midas but with no luck.

I was ABANDONED! Double-crossed by Marcus and maybe even the other Blood Dolls! And just after we had done parleying!

That's IT! I'm done with this pirate silliness! I'll keep the aether sword though. Damn, I'm thirsty.

The Pirate Pact

So parley it is. I withdrew my blade and released Marcus. A squidlike demon floated to his side, clipping bandages and applying salve to the scratches running ebon trails over his neck ruffles.

I stepped over the demon-bear's swollen belly beneath me as I joined my doll companions. The girls screamed as they looked back at him. The beast scurried on all fours behind his throng of demons.

Marcus and I pulled up chairs and sat at one of the marble chess tables. As I listened I pulled off my leather firefighting gloves and examined the damage to my nails and skin of "living porcelain".

"I was planning to build a Bloodwine Mist Generator to turn the Earth into a legion of undead slaves..."

I interrupted. "Too many vampires and you won't have a Herd left to feed them all. This is what I propose. We need the Bloodwine. You need a crew that can actually fight."

He leaned in, staring into my clockwork eyes. "Go on..."

"I propose we join forces. The Dolls can fight, but as you see..."

I gestured towards two of the dolls helding one of their sisters upright, her right side blown away by a Middlesea cannon.

"...we're high maintenance. We're not just talking rewinding and basic repairs, either. Their budget for outfits...they're like Jagers in lace and ribbons!"

"I am not familiar with these Jagers."

"You will, if you start your conquests. These Dolls expect to be pampered with manicures and porcelain detailing and exquisite tea parties..." I heard excited whispers from the demon contingent. "...and half the treasure." Groans immediately followed.

He smiled, for the first time. There was something disarming about him, as if I saw a glimpse of the boy beneath the conqueror. "That is apparently what they were trained to do to begin with," he said. "An even split of the gold seems more than fair...as long as the crew are tipped for their services fairly?"

The mumblings and whispers on both sides sounded positive. I stretched out my hand in ladylike form. "Master Marcus, I believe we have..." One of the Dollies leaned forward quickly to whisper in my ear. My demure smile turned to and angry scowl.

"What do you mean 'that wasn't a gun'?"

Marcus spoke up quickly. "I'll have him removed. He's the most distrubing one on this whole ship to be honest..."

I shook his hand heartily. "Deal. What was he hired for, anyway?"

He shook his head. "Trust me, you don't want to know..."

"I was hosting at that place below us...the Mayor seems to have demolished it. He's very finnicky I hear."

"We do have a Stage Crew on board...I wouldn't mind watching you perform..." He rested his hand on mine. "...from up here in the ship of course." He grinned as he stared at me again. I simply smiled back and looked down as the Dolls giggled.

Dolls vs. Demons

The airship lurched forward as I smashed through the hatch to jump down into the hull of the ship. I unbuckled my wings and hung them off a horn on a relief of Bloodwing that stretched over the archway. I expected cramped and dingy tunnels. Instead I found specious interiors decorated with luxuriously soft furnishings and exquisite tapestries. I peered over the fully-stocked pink marble bar to find a furry brown creature on its back, looking up at me with a smile on his muzzle and round, black eyes feigning innocence. It waved a paw at me meekly. I only huffed.

The rest of the dolls slipped through after removing their flight harnesses. I heard them gasping and cooing over the fabrics.

"Stay focused, Girls."

I could smell the Bloodwine through the heady scent of the arrangements of carnivorous flora that decorated each of the tables in the cafe' we passed.

"Stop petting the plants!"

We passed what appeared to be a spa, advertisements for horn-polishing treatments flashed in Ereb'ai behind the glass. Judging from the trembling manicure tables, they were well-staffed.

Finally I found a kiosk in front of an empty dining room draped in crimson velvet.

"The Cigar and Tasting Bar. Tantalus Deck."

I ignored the whispers of my new troops as three of us tugged the heavy open door open by the wrought iron hoops. There I saw a boy in a black ruffled outfit...very distinguished but not too feminine, actually...standing defiant. He looked a lot like the young Darien, but...more athletic, and the hair was a bit lighter. In two hands he wielded a sabre he was too light to hold correctly, and behind was a shivering crowd of shivering demons.

"I am Marcus."

"I am Gematria."

"You are trespassing aboard my ship."

"Give us the Bloodwine, and we'll leave you in peace."

He scowled. "The vampire has his own supply."

"We don't want his. We want yours. And the live Bloodfruit Tree in the Greenhouse."

"How did you know...?"

"I saw the flyer."

He looked back disdainfully at his crew. I charged, swinging my axe. Marcus quickly blocked my swing with his blade. He was faking not knowing how to swing a sword, but he barely raised the blade in time. I could tell by the circles under his eyes that he was exhausted from wreaking havoc on his home town.

I soon learned that while his sword-arm was week his psionics were still potent. I felt gravity shift in my direction as he shot me across the room with a stare. The axe fell from my hands and I crashed into the large glass humidor to the screams of the sailors.

I reached for a pair of cigar clippers and quickly tesseracted behind him, embracing him and pressing the twin blades between his jugular. I turned and faced the faux-pirates.

"Give us the Bloodwine!"

Marcus growled as small drops of his blood spread down the blades. "Kill me and we jettison the casks, and expose the tree to sunlight!"

The dolls gasped. I heard the click of a gun beneath me. I felt the hot breath of the bear against my calf and what I assumed was a pistol barrel against my...lace.

We all stood in tense silence, the only sounds the creaking of the ship and heavy breathing of that damned bear.

I cleared my throat. "Parley?" I looked down at his warm blood dripping down my glove and staining a trail in the leather. It was black ichor.

"Yes. Parley."

bloodthirst

Soon, I was being swarmed by frilly dolls secured to wooden kite-frames that soared through the air on flapping wings of wood and paper. I was very lucky that none of the flying Dolls punctured the airbag of the ship, but a slug did tear through the engine, billowing steam around me. That white cloud of boiling moisture may have been what kept them from making a direct hit on my frame.

Dolls in lace, and flying ornithopters. This had Aleister Mason's fangmarks all over it. Obviously, he discovered I broke free of his control. He seemed nice enough as a person mind you, beneath the typical Spark obsessiveness and the vampiric bloodlust, but he was still a bit...odd.

I was starting to lose altitude, and the dolls were swooping close enough to grab at me. The gunfire I did hear was now between the two dolls with twin gatling guns on a larger box-kite contraption and the guns of the Middlesea Fleet. The box-kite had a corkscrew propeller on top as well as wings, allowing it to confound the aim of the gunners with hummingbird agility. It stood to reason dollies in the larger kite were providing cover while their sisters tried to kidnap me.

I reached for my axe and started swinging. As I splintered their ships and shattered their porcelain limbs I screamed that I would never let them take me, that I would never again be a slave...not to Jeremiah nor Aleister! NO ONE!

Then, I distinctly heard the pop of a cork high above the din of battle, and my body suddenly forgot to fight. No other sort of bottle on earth had that exact sound when opened. My body knew it. I held my axe loosely in one hand, craning my neck up as I leaned over the bow, salivating along with the other dolls who suddenly switched to hovering, staring up and drooling like myself.

The horror came to me. My mind was now free, but this body...and the others that Aleister built...are helpless thralls of the Bloodwine used to create us! We heard the sound of pouring, and sighs. We all sighed. Then a shout, and our eyes focused on a glimmer of crystal and spread of crimson liquid through the skies.

We all shrieked as one, kites climbing straight up. I heard myself cursing as I threw off my helmet, strapped on some emergency wings and ascended. I jumped off the rail of the CIRRUS, letting it spin downwards to the ground as sheets of cavorite carried me up towards the hull of the black trireme.

The dolls were dogfighting each other (a fluff ball I believe the call it) for the crystal. Having performed a few mid-air saves myself, I triumphantly captured the glass in my free glove. I rose past where they hovered, their crimson eyes staring at me from blank, porcelain faces. What to do now?

Of course! Aleister always addressed his troops with a glass of the wine in his hand...his symbol of control! Now I gave the orders.

"There's more wine in the ship, Girls! Seize that vessel!"

We swarmed the deck...the sailors were demons, for certain, but not warriors. The was clear from the way they covered their heads and ran below deck, screaming from an invasion of Dolls!

if I could change your mind I wouldn't save you from the path you wander

Somehow I found a pair of CVFB boots in my size. Did we have Tinies on patrol at some point? I tossed the heels aside and joined climbed into my CIRRUS, joining the rest of the fire-fleet in its relay of siphoning water from the bay and dousing the embers of Federal Hill. My third run was interrupted by an aether transmission.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is Nova Sakigake in the city of Hostel! Localized quantum field critically unstable! Request extraction!"

"This is Qlippothic Projects! Coordinates received! Prepare for rescue!"

I was in full armour, navigating through the ripples in reality...

Wait, I thought. This has already happened. I no longer have this body.

A familiar voice surrounded me, its plea reaching the core of my synthetic soul.

TURN BACK!

No, Demonfather. You waited until I had freewill again to let me make this decision. For that I am grateful. But if every mistake in our lives could be reversed so easily, life would lose meaning and our spirits would never grow.

I landed in Hostel, again I saw glass buildings erupt from the cobblestones as a civilization hurtled towards its doom at a decade per second.

There can never be a Qlippothic 1.0 again. If I refuse to rescue my friend, this alternate who still recognizes me as her friend, or even if she were a total stranger, I would betray the core of this recovered personality. I could never face my family and peers and loves again. If I do such, I am better off as a Blood Doll and Aleister's thrall.

The pale gynoid and I ran to each other and locked our forearms. I embraced her and activated the Galvanic Tesseractor.

"Prepare. This will be a very rough ride."

Without warning the scene instantly changed. I was in the fusion-powered Qli-3 form that Nova-prime had built for me from secrets recovered after Humanity's fall. The landscape was at once alien and familiar, a reformatting of Human and Demon architecture spanning the timeline in a bewildering synthesis.

The one feature I did recognize was the Founder himself, chained to the Engine Room of New Erebus and looming above me. His form was anachronistic, it was as he had been before Hades granted him a new crimson body. The crimson wings he retained to the next form were missing, and he had grown to gigantic proportions. The flat stones beneath me shook as he spoke.

"I would have denied you martyrdom as well, but now I give you the chance to join me in destroying my Father's...you have a Trespasser!"

"Yes, Father. A mind-healer has become trapped in my psyche. He is why I have freewill."

The Founder shook his head. "I cannot take the healer on this final charge. And if I free him, you will lose the capacity to choose." As I took a breath, my reactor flared brightly. "Even if I retained this configuration after extracting him, I would still refuse. Why are you ending your immortality like this, Father?"

"Turn around, Daughter."

Three hooded women held a long and wide tapestry of shimmering colors. One held chipped flint stone. Another held a set of metal shears. The third held a device projecting a small blade of energy. Patterns swirled in the fabric, and as the images coalesced I heard the screams of an infant. An innocent form convulsing as wings extended...

"FATHER!!" I turned from the Fates, and saw black tears flowing down the red lines under the Founder's eyes.

"You see why I hate my Father so? I was half-mortal before he poisoned me with the Tree of Death. I founded the Bloodline in attempt to recapture what had been ripped from me. It only extended my suffering and unleashed mad progeny upon the world."

"Not all of them are monsters, you know." He nodded.

"The Fates will not allow me to undo that moment. Reality could not be rewoven after removing an event that ancient. But, they are not without compassion. They have allowed me a second chance to..."

"Enough," chimed the Fates as one, "the construct and the astral must return."

"Goodbye, Daughter! Look behind...!"

And again, I was piloting the airship.

"Look behind...?"

I expected trouble. But I did not expect a squadron of clockwork dolls on ornithopters firing lead shot at me.

unexpected help

I look at myself in the mirror again. My mass of curls is squashed by the wide brass helmet bearing the badge of Caledon's tartan. The blue uniform is nearly hopeless. The voluminous blouse hangs over my magenta dress like an overcoat. Do I deserve to wear the officer's shoulderboards after all this time? I slit it down the back to make room for the key. It will have to do.

Despite the chaos in my mind as gears spin out of control, and some poor soul is trapped between my psychic spheres, a voice pours over me like the rain.

So much history passes so quickly. I urge you to not forget your own. I am watching.

Thank you, Aunt Sysperia. Thank you for all you've done for me and all you continue to do from high above the madness that lurches my family from one disaster to another. When I found myself reborn, helpless to find a new identity outside my name, you gave me a vision. I have since traded it for another, but one still inspired by your Art. Even in your farthest orbit I will forever be proud to be your Muse.

The fire extinguisher I grab was meant to be a handheld. I consider strapping it to my back, bit the key makes it impossible. I let it clatter to the floor and reach for the axe.

Outside, an ironclad hovers over the firehouse. As it floats lower, I recognize on deck a fellow adventurer in uniform, even through his new red locks and freckled complexion. He stands to salute.

"Captain Gematria! Or is it Captain Projects? Do you plan to fight off looters and pirates with just water hoses? The Middlesea Fleet stands ready to aid the Fire Brigade on your emergency mission!"

I grinned, and lifted my hand to the brim of my helmet to salute back. "Glad to have you with us, Colonel O'Toole!"

Just then the helmet slid down over my face.