Nimue

For every choice, there is a consequence.  One door opens, another one closes.  Action, reaction.  The threads of fate are fickle things, being unwoven and re-woven according to what choices are made.  To those who can pick out those threads, existing becomes little more than a game of strategy.  It all depends upon which string one pulls.  And when one can see all possible outcomes centuries in advance from any point in existence (such as I do), the game is already won before anyone even realizes you’ve been playing.  However, with such an advantage comes the tedious task of cleaning up after one’s messes.
I wasn’t quite clear how the five became scattered.  The origin of such a temporal fluctuation was scattered across eighteen different points in space and eighteen points in time.  Each.  The cause, however was of little importance; it was the remedy that mattered.  The blind man and the half-breed were fortunate enough to be cast on the other side of their home planet.  I’d deal with them last.  The worst part was the younger sibling and the wizard.  They’d been cast out of their dimension entirely and had somehow resurfaced on the Nexus.  I don’t want to imagine what disturbances their continuing presence could cause.  The plan was too far into the final stages for it to be jeopardized by a simpering boy with daddy issues and his pet drunk.  Their Resident had agreed to return them to their point of origin as soon as I could extract them, a task that was not easy to accomplish subtly.  Still, success was growing ever closer, and I had been fortunate enough to come into possession of the older sibling during transit.  Therein lied a further exacerbation of the situation, namely towards the state of my patience.
Somehow she’d grasped how to reconstruct her corporeal form, and Styx made the very foolish decision to construct a platform for her as congratulations.  I, of course, couldn’t leave the girl alone with my subordinates, and thus had to take a physical form myself, limitations and all.  Now finding her brother and associate would take even longer.  Joy and rapture.
I divided my attention between the girl and the Nexus, thinking that my subordinates’ mortal mindsets could be hazardous to the girl.  God forbid she should be destroyed; she was not of my design, and I could not remake her in the event.
“A natural she be,” Styx said, complimenting her feat at reconstitution, “Along with damn fine.”
Nhil sighed.  “Must you always be so corporeal?”
“It’s in my character.”
“What a fine description of yourself, Styx,” Lugeo chirped.
“What can I say?  I’m a thespian,” said the shapeshifter
“You’re a fool,” growled Nhil
At that moment, the object of our interest decided to break her silence.  “Um… excuse me?” she interjected timidly.  My subordinates all turned to look at her.
“Oh right,” said Styx, “What’re we going to do about her?  Lugeo?”
“I don’t know why you’re asking me,” said the little girl, “Morganna and Metus are the schemers.”
“I would think that she has seen to much,” Metus hissed, “We should alter her memory and be done with it.”
“That won’t work,” drawled Morganna, “She is not of our design.  We cannot exercise control over her.”
“She’s still seen too much,” mused Lugeo, “Something must be done.”
“Then it would seem that she must be destroyed,” said Morganna, “Nhil, if you would oblige…”
“The Spear is not to be used for such insignificant tasks,” he growled, “Just feed her to Ira.”
The largest of my minions hissed contentedly.
“That works for me,” said Metus, “Are we in agreement?”
The other five all offered affirmation.
“Alrighty then,” said Styx happily, “Looks like you drew the short stick, girly.”
“I’d r-rather not be eaten,” the girl said pitifully.
“Sorry.  You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
At that moment, Ira lumbered forward to reach for the girl, to which she squeaked in terror, and I lost my patience with them all.
“BEGONE!” I thundered.  It was not a request.  At my whim, the six of them were denied their physical presence and I was left alone with the girl.  I kept the corporeal venue for her comfort, but paid her little mind otherwise.  Instead I continued searching for her lost associates.
“Excuse me?”  If I’d had a mouth, I would have frowned.
“Quiet,” I snapped.
I heard her give an indignant huff.  “Excuse me.”
At this point, I turned to face her, her eyes widening at the sight of the respirator helm.  I very much loathe being restrained to this avatar.  “Do you enjoy this place so much?” I asked her.
"I... w-what?"
I had to pick the form without physical expression.  “Do you prefer it to your home?”
“No!  Not at all!”
“Then be quiet, so I can send you back.”
“How did I leave?”
For it’s lack of malleable features, this body at least could convey auditory signals, and I expressed my exasperation with an irate growl.  Then I decided I would have no peace with just she and I, and divided my attention more directly.  The girl gave a surprised gasp as I formed another one of myself.
“If you must have conversation,” said the newer me, “You may speak to me.”
“I… I… um… you… how did-” she spluttered.
“My associates and I have a medley of curious talents.”  I did not elaborate.
“May I ask for your name?” she inquired.
“You may,” I answered, before returning to silence.
“I’m Nimue Nimure,” the girl said, now somewhat exasperated, “Who are you?”
“My name is Sammael,” I answered, “I am head of the Creomundai of my dimension.”
“Um… I d-don’t know what that means.”
“I am… charged with maintaining the stability of manifested reality.”
“I… um…”
I put a hand to my head.  “I’d forgotten how limited you mortals’ perception of reality is.”
“ ‘Mortals’?  A-are you a God?”
“Please.  Gods are arrogant fools who serve no further purpose than to create further chaos in reality.  I am a Creomundus, and it is my intended purpose to remedy such flaws and imperfections.  For example: yourself.”
My response made her take on a look of indignation.  “I beg your pardon?” she hissed.
“You misunderstand, Ms. Nimure,” I answered, “I refer not to yourself as a manifestation, but rather your presence here in this dimensional plane.  You are out of place, so to speak.”
“And I would have you back on your home plane by now,” snarled the original me, “If the two of you could maintain some measure of decorum!”
“...May I ask how I came to be here?” the girl whispered to my newer self.
“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU-”  
The original me would never finish his sentence, as the newer version whipped my hand towards me violently, blinding the girl with the flash of light that followed.  When she could finally see again, she was horrified to see only a twisted and blackened chunk of metal left of the original.
“My apologies, madam,” I offered, “I have a tendency to be impolite when irate.  I hope that I’ll be better behaved this time around.”
To reassure the girl, I created a third one of myself, he taking to the original task of searching for the missing two members of her party quite quickly.
“Perhaps I could exercise better self-control,” suggested the third me, “If the two of you would give me a bit of space to work.”
“An excellent suggestion,” agreed the second, “Ms. Nimure?  Would you care to be privy to the inner workings of reality?”
At that point, the girl’s face fell.  I supposed she had garnered it would be a while before I could return her home.  Her nostalgia was replaced by infantile wonder when I began showing her how to make planets.

Avion and Cameron

I find the title ‘Court of Miracles’ a bit misleading.  Nothing miraculous happens here; the place is little more than meeting place for the underworld.  When I say ‘underworld’ I mean that both figuratively and literally.  The place is underground and in the middle of nowhere.  I guess they figured it would be too far out of the way for anyone to come looking for them.  It worked too; the place is a haven for scoundrels and criminals of all kinds.  It was a perfect resting place for my crew and I.  With that knowledge in mind, I was somewhat perplexed when my first mate told me that she, Manny and Riley they’d found a pair of Assassins coming down the entrance tunnel.
“I find that unlikely, Alice,” I said, “If they were from the Assassin’s guild, you wouldn’t have seen them coming.”
“They were armed, Captain,” my first mate replied.
“You don’t walk the DeepWood without carrying a gun.”
“Their armaments consisted of knives and a rapier.  None of the blades are force-edges.”
When I raised a skeptical eyebrow, Alice laid the weaponry on my desk.  My inspection showed that they were, sure enough, without aether channels.  I frowned.  No guns?  That meant these guys knew how to use this stuff.  Well enough to walk through the Deepwood and live.
“I think you should also know, sir,” Alice continued, “That the one on the left was a Daiga with no horns?”
My eyebrows really jumped at that.  “No horns?”
“Aye.”
I thought for a moment, and then clapped my hands.  The Mark of Illumination dimmed the room to a solid pitch, leaving only a cone of light hovering over the front of my desk.  I do enjoy setting the mood for an interrogation.
“Send them in,” I told my first mate.  She nodded and left.  I sat back in my chair, wondering.


A Daiga with no horns?  You don’t think that it’s-


“I never assume, Skoll,” I cut in, “You know what they say.”  I did wonder, though.  I knew of only two people that had pointed ears and no horns.  One I’d be happy to have in my company.  The other… less so.  The door opened, and a pair of men with bags on their heads and ropes on their wrists shuffled into the room, led in my Manny and Riley.  My crewmates removed the prisoner’s hoods and then left me to my devices.  Curiosity running up and down my ribcage, I flicked my finger forward, and the Mark complied, rotating its pillar to reveal-
The scar on my chest went electric with memories as I looked down at Avion Nimure and Cameron James Blood.  They looked at me without the same realization.  They didn’t know me.  Fire up my spine and lit my skull ablaze a familiar rage took hold of me.  Yet the ire was laced with satisfaction.  Oh yes, he was the one.  And he was mine now, he and Cameron both.
“Well isn’t this a surprise,” I said blithely, “When they said it was a hornless Daiga, I’d expected some kind of mutant.  I didn’t expect you.”
“Wha’ ‘re ye on about?” asked Cameron bewilderedly.
“ ‘What am I on about’?” I asked, getting to his feet and strolling to the front of the desk. “Sweet, sweet vengeance.  That’s what, Cameron James Blood.”
The wizard’s eyebrows jumped a mile high.  “ ‘ow d’ ye know me name?” asked the Irishman.
“Avvy told me.  He told me all about you, the blind man, the half-pint, and his dear sister… albeit somewhat inadvertently.”  Upon hearing the nickname, Avion’s brow furrowed.  Then my words were familiar… though he couldn’t quite place it.
Cameron looked to the Seelie, utterly perplexed.  “Avion,” he asked, “Do ye know this bloke?”
“Not in the same sense that you two know each other, Little Boy Blue,” I answered.
On “Little Boy Blue”, it suddenly dawned upon the Seelie lord.  I’ll give him credit: he doesn’t scare easy.
“Well, Tristan” Avion bit snidely, “You look much rougher in person than in fiction.”
“I try,” I replied, putting a clawed and armored hand to his chin, “Now then: what am I going to do with you two?”
“You’re speaking as though we’ve wronged you.”
“You had me stabbed, Avion.  Stabbed, burned, shot at, et cetera, all for dear Nimue’s amusement.”
Avion winced.  “Then you’ve learned the truth behind your venture?” he asked.
“I never work for free, Avvy,” I bit back, claws glinting, “And I know a thing or two about ripping the space/time continuum a new one.  So when I made a subsequent attempt to collect my payment (even if it wasn’t that which I’d originally intended), lo and behold I should find that world was naught save fiction.”
At that point Cameron made the mistake of trying to interject.  “I’m sorry, boyo,” he said, “But ye’ve lost me.  ‘ow do-”
My face gave an irate twitch.  Faster than their eyes could follow, I traced a Mark of Movement in the air and snapped to activate the Arcanum.  Following this, Cameron’s mouth snapped shut and locked, leaving the magician with muffled cries as his only form of communication.
“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much, Cammy?” I growled.
“Tristan,” Avion began, “I’m not sure I understand your malicious behavior.”
“You.  Had.  Me.  Stabbed.  Were I anyone else, I would be dead.”


You’re welcome, by the way.


“As grateful as I am for your contributions, I’ll deal with them how I see fit.  And where the hell would I get a wood chipper anyway?”  Avion already knew I was schizophrenic; I added that last part for theatrical effect.
Avion closed my eyes and exhaled deeply.  I think on some level the situation was little more than an irritation to him.
“Tristan,” he began, “You’re venture wasn’t without merit: did you not come to some life changing epiphany during the course of your journey?  Did it not leave you the better man?”
“And there’s the next bone I have to pick with you, Avvy,” I replied through my trademark shark’s grin.
“I told you before: either address me by my full name-”
“ ‘-or not at all’.  Blah, blah, blah.  Your attitude almost kills the fun of it all.  To return to my point, that epiphany should by default be rendered moot by the fact that it wasn’t real.  In spite of this, I was still in that frame of mind when I got back here.  And for a moment, the world seemed a little bit brighter.  And then a group of men came to kill me.  Do you know what happened next, Avion?”
“I imagine you turned the tables upon them.”
“Wrong as a fish in the sky!  They did their job almost perfectly.  They nearly succeeded, because I was still in that stupid ‘all life is sacred’ frame of mind.  They filled my chest with steel and lead because I’d lost the nuts to cut their heads off and hang them from trees.  It was only because of my associates that I survived.  You’ve met three of them, have you not?  What was your first impression?”
“I found them brutish and crude, like you.”
“I’d hardly call myself ‘crude’, but you get the picture.  You see, Avion, I’m the captain of a motley crew of cutthroats and thieves.  I got the job because I am, at my core, a stone cold killer.  My entire education was centered on the assumption that I would leave a trail of corpses in my wake, wherever I was to go.  And you little ‘venture’ nearly robbed me of the chance to do what I was made to do.”
From the look on their faces, I guessed that the sadness in my voice sounded almost authentic.  I of course ruined the image when I looked up at them, green eyes wide and wild with bloodlust, and my grin so wide one could almost think I was the Cheshire Cat in human form.
“But now I’m back!” I crowed, “I’m tan, I’m rested, and I’m ready to throw a man to the ground and cut out his eyes, just to hear him scream.  And I’m going to start with you two.”
Avion’s eyes narrowed.  “Careful, Tristan,” he growled, “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
At that point I felt a measure of pity for the Seelie lord; he didn’t know whom he was dealing with.  “You don’t get it, Avion,” I replied gravely, “This time you have nothing I want; there’s no adorable redhead around for you to bribe me with, no princess to save.  This time, there’s no reason for me to play the hero.  And you know what?  Being the villain’s so much more fun.
“And you know what else?  I’m sure that you know an eldritch trick or two.  You’ve probably already undone the bindings around your hands and are warming up some little magic trick that’ll turn me inside out or something.  I’m sure that you been around this block more than once.  And I’m fine with that; I love playing with fire.”
Avion raised an eyebrow before dropping the ropes in his hands.  They were hands that began to crackle and glow with an electrical aura.  On his left, Cameron scooted away from the brewing storm.
“So shall we get this show on the road?” I asked.
“By all means,” he replied.

Kale & Simon

My work is always the main priority.  Should an opportunity present itself to further my work, I will drop everything to take it.  I spare no expense.  And if that includes destroying half of Shanghai chasing a promising test subject, then, by God, it will be done.  The man in question was a genetic anomaly, even by extranatural standards.  He was an unnatural creature, holding a human form but displaying demonic talents.  Demon half-breeds are rarer than white rhinos these days.  Adding one to my mechanized ranks would be the equivalent to finding Excalibur itself.
It was a further advantage to find that he was not alone.  He was accompanied by a foul smelling, sightless degenerate.  One might think that an ally might give the half-breed a better chance at victory.  That assumption was providing his associate was still conscious.  Hellsing and Octomanus caught them unawares (quite a feat considering the units’ sizes), and the latter of the two struck the blind man down in a single strike.  My fortune only increased as the half-breed attempted to protect his unconscious comrade.  I watched him as he fended off the necromechanisms, hurling fire from his free hand, and I was awed when I watched him sprout wings and take to the skies… or I would have been, had I the capacity for emotion.  In any case, he truly was a magnificent fusion of demonic and human tissues.
“Mobilize all flight units,” I commanded, the call echoing throughout all of the necromechanisms I’d placed throughout the city.  Majestic or otherwise, his wings would have to be clipped.
Thus did the aerial chase ensue.  He was quick in the air, easily flying circles around my bulkier creations, but his offense was lacking somewhat, I having fireproofed my mechanisms a long time ago.  I noted this and decided to add additional weapon systems during the reconstruction.  The pursuit came to a head when my prey landed on top of the Oriental Pearl Tower to make a stand.  I was “surprised” to see that with both hands free, the concentrated flames were able to reach a temperature high enough to overheat most of the flying units’ engines.  At this reveal, I commanded my primary units to scale the tower.  The half-breed had time on his side, and was able to incapacitate Octomanus and Raptor from his perch, yet Hellsing reminded us all of his position as my ever reliable right hand.  He flanked the half-breed, letting his younger brothers take the brunt of my quarry’s assault, before going in for the kill.  A light rain of blood spilled down from the tower as Hellsing’s jaws clamped down on the half-breed’s midriff.  Some of it got on my jacket, obscuring the veins where it did.  The veins became orange with “irritation”, and I decided to twist the half-breed’s arm a bit.
“Break his spine,” I commanded the machine, “Paralyze him, to clarify.  I want him alive for study.”
There was a small ping! in my head as the necromechanism confirmed this order, yet I was “discontented” when I felt a twinge of shock from Hellsing.  I mentally accessed his visual files to find out what the trouble was.  I shared my subordinate’s reaction when I saw the complication that had arisen in our prey.  The half-breed was growing in Hellsing’s mouth, his flesh erupting in black scales, horns tearing out of his skull.  With an almighty roar, he ripped his way out of Hellsing’s mouth and completed his metamorphosis.  The half-demon had become a dragon.  This was truly a work of beauty.
The dragon swatted Hellsing aside with a single paw, tossing my creation over the side of the tower, before taking to the skies.  The necromechanism crumpled upon striking the ground, blood spraying everywhere, and the veins on my jacket flashed scarlet with anger.
“All remaining units,” I said complacently, “The target has re-entered Chinese airspace.  Apprehend alive or dead.”  I only needed an autopsy to properly refurbish the creature.  His continued life would have only served to sate my morbid sense of curiosity.  But he’d made it personal.
In my opinion, the change was something foolish.  The demonic aspects of my prey had made him quick and agile; the dragon was little more than raw power.  He easily tore through any one of my creations that he could get his claws or fangs into, but his great bulk left him open to attack from the remainder of the force.  Soon, his injuries were extensive, and he was losing air.  When he finally hit the ground, combat drones were surrounding him.  Had I the capacity for emotion, I would have smirked.  The shade of blue on my jacket’s veins would have to suffice.
I did not hurry as I strolled to claim my prize, lest he still be free upon my arrival.  Granted, I had a number of spells and self-augmentations that I could use to incapacitate him, but I do so detest getting my hands dirty; I build the necromechanisms for that kind of work.  Needless to say, I was fifteen minutes in getting there, and “surprised” to find that the half-breed was still alive, albeit bound and tied under hundreds of meters of steel wiring.  The dragon struggles had a tendency to accelerate his bleeding and the fireproof muzzle around his jaws muffled his snarls.  Still, the ground was littered with oil, metal, and blood not his own.  This creature would make a fine addition to my legion.
“Deal with any immediate witnesses,” I said to the still operational units, and they took to their task without hesitation.  I do enjoy that about machines.  “Pleased” to know that I would have my biopsy after all, I called a support unit to my side and began to peruse his selection of scalpels.  I finally settled on one with a vibrating blade and serrated edge, and began to advance upon my prize somewhat menacingly if I do say so myself.
“Now then,” I said, flipping the blade’s switch to “on”, “Let’s see what makes you tick.”
The dragon snarled in defiance from behind the wires.

Epilogue…ish

By the time we were finished, Nimue had created an entire galaxy with seven life-supporting solar systems; the girl was a natural at Creation, I will admit it.  Though, as a Creomundus, I’m not quite sure that that’s a good thing, if only because of the possible ramifications this new stretch of life.  In any case, it served to distract her long enough for me to finally locate the drunk and the younger sibling.  To add a cherry to this sundae of inconvenience, Nimure the Younger was found to be dueling with Daon himself.  Lord.  I cannot think of a worse possible outcome. I pulled the two of them out of there and handed them over to the Resident without bothering with an explanation.  Let Daon think it was Taef’s work.  I didn’t really care.  She could deal with the other two, so that just left Nimue.
“T’would appear that our time together is coming to an end, Miss,” I said cordially as Nimue populated one of her worlds with flowers.
“Must it?” she asked, so very much like a child with a new toy, “I’ll admit I’ve very much enjoyed our time together.”
“Mortals are not meant to wield Creation, Ms. Nimure.  As I’ve located your sibling and associate, your welcome here has outlasted itself, I’m afraid.”
“I see… well, I’m very grateful for today’s experience.  You’ve been very accommodating, Sammael.”
“There is no excuse for being rude.”
At that point Nimue became somewhat transparent.
“W-well,” she said, “Good-bye, then.”
“I hope you’ll understand if I hope not to see you again,” I replied.  The she was gone.  Finally.  Allowed a moment of peace at last, I resigned my willpower and began to discorporate… and then She appeared.  The Resident.  Again, I wished this form had the capacity to scowl and reconstituted.
She appeared as little more than a white silhouette, the shape marred only by her silvery eyes.  Her voice was flowing and airy.  I suppose the sound was soothing to mortals; to me it was grating.
“I’ve asked you,” began the White Lady, “More than once, mind you, not to meddle in their world.”
“And I’ve told you that I don’t take requests,” I hissed, putting a hand to my metal cranium in a mock headache.
"You know what I mean."
"You shouldn't worry.  The survival rate of those five is nothing short of ridiculous."
“Kale and Simon were almost torn to ribbons!  Avion and Tristan, your man, were at each other’s throats!  And Nimue had to endure you.”
“And here I thought you’d be angrier about showing her how to weave Existence together.”
“Do not change the subject, Sammael.  I do not like you attempting to work that world into your schemes, those five and their friends in particular.  It’s bad enough that you weaseled that horrible… person onto the planet-”
“And what about your players?  What about the effect they have upon my machinations?  Forsythe is going to waste who knows how long scouring China for that little abomination!  Tristan has yet another redheaded tart eating up his already dwindling attention span!  And now there’s that deplorable galaxy hurtling through space, all because Nimure couldn’t keep her mouth shut!  I should even say that this entire fiasco was your fault!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You.  Are the planet’s Resident.  Not me.  It is your job to remedy such temporal vortexes on Earth.  Not mine.”
“It was a vortex started by you putting Forsythe there in the first place!”
It was only when I realized that I was getting ready to atomize her that I knew that this was escalating beyond reasonable control.  I threw up my hands in surrender.
“Forget it,” I told her, “The problem has been remedied, and looking for a scapegoat will get us nowhere.  For now, let us agree not to meddle in the other’s affairs.”
“That is suitable,” she stiffly informed me.
“Very well, then.  It goes in effect now: get out.”
I caught once last glint of rage in her eyes before the White Lady discorporated.  I didn’t follow her example right away, and instead turned my attention to Nimue’s galaxy.  I did not flinch as I unraveled it, instead hoping that that was the last I would see of those five… yet somehow knowing it wasn’t.

***

The five of in question were all at that moment, standing in Avion’s study, having reformed there without injury and on their own two feet.  For a moment, they all wondered exactly what had just happened and what it possibly meant.  Then Kale decided to address the elephant in the room.
“Nimue,” he began, “Why are you holding a birthday cake?”
The older Seelie looked down at the desert in her hands, wondering the same question herself.  The White Lady winced; she hated it when objects manifested during reconstitution.  At least it wasn’t another wax head of King Lier.