Delinquency

by Daemon McRae

Essay Seven: How Not to Judge People and Instead Duck for Cover

Essay Seven: How Not to Judge People and Instead Duck for Cover

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?” Sugarcoat demanded.

Treble shrugged the question off -literally- with relative ease. “If we’re going to pl them playing us, eventually we’ll need to negotiate, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Sunny conceded.

Treble knocked on the door -they’d stopped on a lower level about ten floors down and decided to have a look- and waited for an answer. When none came, he pushed on the door slowly, letting the hinges creak their announcement down the hallway. “Well, the first rule of negotiation is to do so from a position of power. Which means we’re going to need to find one of two things- something they want, or something they want to avoid. Now, we know what they want, and we can’t exactly get it from here. So we need to find something they -or at least, ‘Mother’- will want to avoid. Which, in the short term, gives us a finite goal outside of ‘What’s behind door number three thousand?’. And I think I have an idea of what that is. Don’t ask- you don’t want to know, and I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Now about this door.”

The girls regarded him warily as he pushed the door open all the way, but were quickly distracted as the distinct sounds, sights, and smells of outside reached their senses. The door didn’t so much scrape across the floor as it dig dig into it slightly, the ‘floor’ being fresh earth and grass. Well, ‘grass’ in the sense that it grew out of the ground in small blades. The distinct, sickly purple color was all the evidence they needed that they had not, in fact, found their way home. Stepping into what they now saw was a large clearing, slightly uneven with hills and thick rocks, and surrounded on all sides by what looked from here to be woods and ruins, crumbling walls of stone and steel, the last whispers of what might have once been civilization.

The sky was tinged a similar shade of purple, looking more natural in its resemblance to a dusky sky, painted with quick brushes of rolling clouds both above them and far into the horizon. The grass itself had a dusky hue to it, with vestiges of a rotted red color at its base. Treble kicked a nearby rock and found it solid. No strange spongy consistency (which he was really getting quite tired of getting used to), no creepy crawlies underneath, just the gravely rumble as it rolled down a slope into a pile of smaller rocks. The place even smelled kind of woodsy. An earthy, natural scent permeated the air in light waves as if carried on a breeze they couldn’t feel- no, wait, there it was. The lightest of airs grazed Treble’s skin as he considered the landscape before him.

It was almost peaceful.

“Ok, now I’m worried,” Sunny declared.

Sugarcoat considered her thoughtfully. “You weren’t before?”

“No. Well, yes, I mean of course. But that was the kind of perfectly rational worried you get from being chased by monsters and teleporting to another dimension. This is just… weird,” Sunny explained. She sounded more like she was thinking aloud. “Didn’t you say that detail like this meant they were getting better at it? Stronger?”

Their ‘fearless leader’ raised an eyebrow. “I did, in fact. Which is odd, because I don’t really feel any… malice… here. That first floor just felt very… empty. Like a prototype. I figured the second floor we hit was either them getting better, or at least more creative, with what they had. Although I was a bit too distracted by giant monsters and rotting plantlife in the carpet to really consider the implications of that. This… is different. And not just in the obvious ‘whoosh we’re outside’ kind of way. By the way, could one of you kindly check to see if the door’s still-”

“It’s gone,” Sugarcoat answered, waving her arm through the space their entryway had once been.

“Wonderful. At least they’re consistent. But like I was saying, this feels too, natural, pardon the pun, for what we’ve seen so far. It’s almost like whoever put this together has ‘been’ here before. Or at least, someplace like it. That first floor looked like an educated guess. This looks like a memory,” Treble mused.

“…if we ever survive this you might want to consider writing a book,” Sunny offered.

“No thanks, I hate copyright lawyers,” he said. “Now, either they’ve been somewhere on Earth before that looks something like this, which is a terrifying thought in a few ways, or this is their-”

“-home,” said a simple, pleasant voice.

The three teens spun round on their heels to find the source, locating it quickly. Where their door once was, now stood what looked to be another human. Or, it would, if not for some certain details.

It, (or she, Treble guessed, by the sound of her voice), stood like a human, with the right number of arms, legs, and head. Most of her was obscured by a collection of well-folded cloths draped over her shoulders, around her torso and waist, and hung around her legs like a long skirt. She wouldn’t have looked out of place in the desert. Or here, rather, as she looked very much like what one might consider a native of a grass-rich ruins to do. Her ‘clothes’ were various shades of brown faded into a dark blue, a variety of gradients that wove themselves across her attire like haphazard paint.

Her face was mostly obscured by the rags, save for her eyes, which shone with an unnatural silver sheen, almost a light, in a large, almost fantasy-like iris around a white pupil. Her eyes were much wider than a humans,, yet somehow didn’t look out of place on her head. She wore what could almost insultingly be called a turban, more a scarf layered over and over on top of her head, tufts of brown hair sticking out. That was actually the most normal looking part of her-the hair. It draped over her shoulders in long tresses of an earthy brown, almost blending in with her clothes.

The least human part of her, however, were the claws. Shaped somewhat like human hands, in that they had four fingers and a thumb, the wrist started slim and widened dramatically into what looked almost like the back of a lobster’s claw; a large chitinous plate covered the back while the palm was an almost silky white, the same color as the base of the unnaturally long and slender fingers. Each of the four fingers ended in a light-blue claw, almost sky-blue, tipped with what might have been black. The thumb, for lack of a better term, was little more than a large, jointed hook that sat too close to the base of the palm and curled in like a claw machine.

“Is this the part whee we run?” Treble asked almost politely. “Sometimes I’m just not sure. I mean, that big Skeletron dude upstairs was kinda obvious with it, but if you’re gonna start chasing us I’d at least like to know now.”

The newcomer regarded Treble for a second, and turned her attention to the girls. “Does he always talk this much?”

“You. Have NO IDEA,” Sunny exclaimed, sighing heavily. “If you’re here to kill us all, can you start with him? I’d at least like the courtesy of a peaceful death.”

“Words hurt Sunny,” Treble whined, mockingly pained.

“If that were true I’d be bleeding internally by now,” Flare countered.

“Right. So, miss...” Treble left off, hoping the new arrival with finish the sentence for him with an introduction. When none was forthcoming, he pressed on. “Yes, hm. Well, given that we’re all still standing here, I’m guessing there’s a reason for that. While you suss out what that is, allow me to introduce our motley crew here. I’m Deep Treble, the one with the snark is Sunny Flare, and the ‘quiet one’ is Sugarcoat.”

“...your names are weird,” she said. Her voice was whispy and light, like the breeze they almost couldn’t detect, and rang like chimes in a hunter’s den: beautiful, and full of warning.

Now, Treble had spoken to a great many things that wanted to kill him. And quite a few that didn’t. He prided himself on talking circles around most of them and the rest into a corner. Yet somewhere, eventually, he was bound to meet someone who not only was unimpressed with the ease in which he spoke and the rather dangerous things that came out of his mouth when he did, but had something of their own to say that would completely throw him for a loop.

He usually called this person Pinkie Pie. “I’m sorry, what?”

The newcomer regarded DT for a moment. “Treble. A measure of pitch in the mid-high range in reference to music, most commonly singing. By nature it is anything but deep. You are a contradiction in terms.” She turned to Sugar. “Sugarcoat. Either to make a distasteful or uncomfortable statement less so by saying it in a polite, helpful, or optimistic way. Also, literally to coat with sugar. You appear to lack optimism, and I doubt you come with a hard candy shell. Although you do have the coloration for it.” Lastly, she turned her attention to Sunny. “Sunny Flare. Most likely referring to a solar flare, a celestial event in which the brightness of the surface of a star is increased visibly, if only for a short time, usually accompanied by an ejection of the coronal mass. You possess neither the intensity, heat, or brightness for such an event. Sunny mas also refer to a ‘sunny’ disposition, accentuated by the modifier ‘Flare’, in which you have bright bursts of positive emotional energy, usually cheer or happiness. This also does not appear to suit you. Although your temperament could largely be attributed to your circumstances, in which case my analysis would be tainted by environmental factors. Also, it is very strange to name your children after nouns and adjectives.”

“Ok then, what is your name?” Sugar demanded, slightly put-off. Treble was still dealing with the fact that there was someone who could talk through him.

“Iskilia, Daughter of the Plains of Iskilith. We are named for the place and circumstances we are born. I rather hope that is not the case for you, as I do not believe I would enjoy a world where solar flares and candy coating are commonalities, let alone contributing factors in the birthing process,” the newcomer, explained.

Treble cracked a smile, more at his friend’s expense than anything else. Also, he’d found something to talk about. “Actually, children in our world are usually named either after the nature of their family’s business, or as a prediction of what their parents believe they might accomplish when they reach maturity. Deep Treble is actually a play on the term ‘deep trouble’, as my parents hadn’t planned on having a kid, and they were under the assumption my being born would bring them nothing but. Although it’s somewhat of a taboo to include words like ‘trouble’ and ‘danger’ in your child’s name, considered a bad omen, so they got what they no doubt thought was creative.”

“My parents are psychologists and painstaking optimists,” Sugar added.

“My parents are astronomers,” Sunny finished.

Iskilia considered this. “Yes, that does make more sense. It is also a relief. Now, to address your earlier statement, you are correct.”

When she didn’t follow up, Sunny asked, “Who is?”

“Treble. You said this place was built from a memory. That is correct. This is as accurate a reconstruction of my home as my mother could create for me, to let me run free while she worked. I understand you have met her,” the alien girl said, tilting her head.

Treble nodded. “Yes, she was quite polite.”

“”Mother has always had good manners. I wished to learn them to some extent, until I found that most prey doesn’t make for good conversation. I am a huntress, you see. Wild game and monsters, both to protect my siblings and feed them. Mother hunts, too, but she is always so busy. I… do what I can, to help,” she said, almost sadly. Suddenly, her ears perked up. “Oh. I see one of m brothers has arrived. I should be going. Try not to die.” With that, she leapt into the air, straight up, until they couldn’t see her anymore.

The girls stared after her, Sunny raising an eyebrow. “Nice girl. Hope her brother’s that polite,” she said quietly.

Treble surveyed the landscape. “I… don’t think so. Come on. I’d rather not sit still for this new guy.”

---------------

They’d only been walking about ten minutes when Sugarcoat raised what she considered a very valid point. “Is it really a good idea to smoke when you might be about to fight something? Or better yet, run from it?”

Treble tapped the lit cigarette in his mouth lightly. “Yes.”

Sunny shrugged, while Sugarcoat pressed the matter. “And why, pray tell, is diminishing your lung capacity the first thing that comes to mind when you think you’re about to get in a fight?”

Treble glanced over his shoulder, arming himself with a snappy comeback. Seeing the look on Sugar’s face, however, he sighed heavily. “Alright. Alright, I’ll tell you, but you gotta keep it a secret. I mean, the boys know, but I seriously doubt my teachers would approve.”

“Of you smoking? I hope not,” Sunny declared.

“Ok, you’re not wrong, but you’re wrong.”

“...you wanna shoot that bullet again, Tex?” Sunny demanded.

“I don’t smoke cigarettes. At least, not normal ones. See this?” he pulled out his pack of smokes, and waved it in their faces.

Sugar was the first one to notice. “There’s no brand name on that.”

“That’s right. It’s a case, not a pack. I carry it everywhere. Make my smokes at home, too. And I don’t use tobacco,” Treble explained.

“Oh god you’re high. That explains… quite a lot, actually. Why are you smoking pot right now?” Sunny demanded.

Treble barked a laugh. “Please. Pot wishes it was this good. No, I smoke mana leaves. Ground up with different roots and herbs. Think of it like a potion you inhale. The paper is a special kind of papyrus woven out of the same kind of material used in certain disposable scrolls. The kind of stuff you use for one-shot spells or self-destructive evidence. Besides, not everything in this pack is a smoke.”

Sugar raised an eyebrow. Then the other one. If she’d had a third, it would join them. “So… you smoke… spells?”

“Not quite. Like I said, they’re more like potions. The mana leaves improve my personal energy reserves, cut with some special… perks. One of the things that keeps me sane in the face of the really rather awful stuff we face. There are spells in here, of course, but I don’t smoke those.”

Sunny tapped her chin. “So… they’re not bad for you?”

“Oh god, yes. Mana leaf smoke is like overclocking your CPU. It expands your ki paths temporarily. The other stuff I cut into them makes the effects basically permanent. But that kind of… enhancement comes with its downsides. The human soul is basically a limitless well of power, but the body isn’t designed to channel that much energy at a time. It only really hits home when I actually use magic, but I’m basically burning myself from the inside out,” he explained, his tone rather uncharacteristically serious.

“Is that why you don’t use it that often?” Sugarcoat asked.

“Please. If I was worried about my lifespan I wouldn’t be doing shit like this. No, my biggest problem seems to be much more mundane- No Smoking signs,” said Treble, almost wistfully.

“...how are you still alive?” Sunny sighed.

“Usually, I have someone else to hide behind. Speaking of which, you girls might want to get behind me,” he added with a sense of urgency.

The girls looked to each other, and paused only for a moment. Something in his voice told them he wasn’t joking. Or maybe it was the shaking earth under their feet. That might have done it. They ducked behind him as he stepped forward to face the oncoming noise.

There wasn’t much of a wait for them to figure out what was bearing down on them. It leapt over a broken stone wall and landed on all fours only a hundred feet away. It walked much like a dog, but with significantly more bulk. Large plates of shell rolled on its back with the impressive muscles, the fore-and hind legs stomping with great purpose. It was very much a creature of function- every muscle perfectly in place, built for speed as well as power, armored in all the proper places, obviously an evolutionary byproduct of being both a predator and prey. Hard to kill and good at killing, with a mouth of waves of teeth that ground together and lined up nicely to chew pretty much anything, even the piece of rock that had lodged in its jaw when it laned in a plume of dust and pebbles.

The rock disappeared into a puff of dust as its mouth closed menacingly. The girls took a step back. Treble, however, took out another stick out of his pack, and lit it. “Oh good. A field demonstration.” He flicked the smoke with practice, and it flew as if pitched, in a straight line for the creature. The beast opened its mouth as if to eat it.

“Brjóta!” Treble shouted.

Then the cigarette exploded.

Author's Note:

FIGHT TIME NAO.

Comments

[Alchemik]

These boys will never run out of surprises for us, I swear.

[psychosis]

Okay then. Magic smokes. Seems legit.

[catfire13]

Then the cigarette exploded

BOI!!

[The Wind King]

Cheesus crust, what do you have to cut those things with to make potion cigarettes?

[Jarimor]

i.pinimg.com/originals/75/93/5d/75935d3d8a84dd901338ee995792bc0c.jpg

[Phoenix Flight]

Exploding cigarettes? Treble just got seven extra levels of badassness.

[Leviathan Splash]

Brjóta: Icelandic, verb: "break" or "fold"

For those of us who have read the Kane Chronicles, he's essentially using "Ha-di!"

[Daemon McRae]

8939369
Yes, but I haven't explained what the cigarette DOES yet. :P.

[psychosis]

8939526
Buffy the Vampire Slayer reference. This is more eldritch/para-natural stuff than fantasy/mythological creature stuff, but the similarities are enough that I thought I could make the joke.

[mapu]

the magic of 420

[FanOfMostEverything]

Nice explanation for the noun phrase naming convention, to say nothing of Chekhov's Cigarettes. This looks it'll be quite the fight.

That said, this plain (and plane) seems to at least resemble 4D spacetime. Given that, I wonder why Mother has to put so much work into modelling the world as we know it.

[psychosis]

Related to my past BtVS joke, I'm kind of surprised no one has made a crossover with EQG yet. I mean, as far as I know this fic is the closest we've gotten, aside from one where Pinkie mentioned her friend Buffy. I mean, we have a high school, and we have a bunch of magical mishaps going on being fixed by a group of teenagers at said high school. Sure, there were a few more Y chromosomes in the Scooby gang, but Xander was pretty blatantly outnumbered for a while.

The biggest differences I can think of, aside the blatant gap in violence and scale of villains, is that Sunny and Co. are sitting close to the top of the popularity totem pole, where as the Scoobies were in the same place as your delinquents gang. At least until Cordy dragged them a little farther up the coolness scale...

[Leviathan Splash]

8939385
You mean aside from basically being a Fortify Magicka potion?

[Nightcloak]

8939369
would you have preferred it if he said "fozare?" That type of casting (the implied anyway) summed up in some as "The Will and the Word" is a fairly common magic system, granted his uses at least some material components but still

[Leviathan Splash]

8946343
I was just pointing out the translation, dude.

[Arkonfleight]

8941391
I had an idea for one a while back, more of a sendup focusing on AJ.
>Sunset legged it through the portal due to getting caught demonologising
>The Apple parents are dead because Hunting is a dangerous business
>Humane Six were the local scooby gang prior to Sunset's shenanigans
>Scene one is Princess Twilight waking up tied to a tree on the Acres for being "The absolute worst attempt at pretendin' to be human I ever saw."

[Shock Jock]

Ah, the Harry Dresden school of spell casting, just in time for the new book release!