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No one remembered the city's original name. It had once been a thronging metropolis on the Eastern Coast known for its rich history and vibrant culture. Now, some unknown event had turned it into a place of perpetual twilight and mystery.
The event that had transformed it was shrouded in the same mists that filled its streets. It was a silent, creeping metamorphosis that had expanded the city into a multidimensional labyrinth. The city's name, once familiar to its inhabitants, had been lost to the fog, and now it was known as Nebulopolis, a city of a hundred or more worlds.
The city had become an enormous maze, a sprawling upward expanse of architecture that defied logic and most natural laws of physics.
Gothic spires stood beside glass skyscrapers, and Victorian townhouses perched on cliffs of concrete and steel. Elevated streets crisscrossed the sky, connected by staircases and ladders that seemed to dangle precariously in mid-air. Parks floated on islands of green, tethered to the surrounding buildings by colossal vines and chains. Transit lines, a web of cables and rails, carried cable cars and trams that rumbled through the fog like ghostly apparitions.
Each city sector was unique, a patchwork of different realities stitched together by the uncanny needle of whatever force had transformed the city. In one district, the buildings were adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to dance in the dim light, and the air was filled with the scent of exotic spices. In another, the streets were lined with cherry blossom trees that bloomed perpetually, their petals glowing softly in the constant dusk. Some sectors were less inviting, with buildings that seemed to leer menacingly and shadows that writhed with unseen creatures.
The inhabitants of the city were as diverse as its architecture. Humans lived alongside beings, seemingly stepping straight out of myth and legend. Faeries and demons, monsters and aliens, all went about their daily lives in the city's winding streets. More unsettling denizens also called the city home – creatures with tentacles and fangs, beings of smoke and shadow, and entities that defied description, the forms seemingly assembled from the broken pieces of reality itself.
Logan Hartley, a young human in his mid-twenties, had become a resident. He had been in Nebulopolis for what felt like years, though time was as unreliable as memory here. Like so many others, he had been drawn to the city by forces he couldn't explain, chasing a reason he couldn't remember.
He had found his niche in one of the city's upper-mid levels, Echo Park, running a small shop that bought and sold vinyl records. Music was his passion, a universal language that transcended the city's myriad realities. His shop, Echoes of Analog, was a haven for those seeking the comforting crackle of a needle on vinyl, a melody to anchor them in the city's ever-shifting landscape.
Still, despite its appeal to those already into vinyl, the business wasn’t as stable as it could have been. As a result, Logan also did courier work to supplement his income.
The city's unpredictable nature made reliable communication and delivery services a rarity, and Logan's knowledge of the city's labyrinthine streets was in high demand.
But the job wasn't without its risks. The city could be dangerous, its inhabitants fickle, and its streets treacherous. Logan had encountered his share of hazards, from streets that vanished beneath his feet to creatures that lurked in the shadows, hungry for more than just music.
After an alarming encounter with a pack of snarling, red-eyed beasts in a dark alleyway, Logan decided he needed protection.
Down two levels from Echo Park was the Midway Market, a collection of shops and stalls that sold food, medicines, and anything else one could want in the city. In a grimy corner, beyond a nondescript door, was a pawn shop run by an old friend of his.
"Logan, my boy!" Frank called out as the human entered, his mandibles clicking together in a semblance of speech. He polished a peculiar device with several of his legs, his other limbs busy cataloging various oddities. "Always great to see ya! What brings you down to my humble establishment today?"
Frank was a creature of indeterminate origin, a fat, multi-limbed insectoid with a penchant for collecting the odd and the unusual. His shop reflected his eclectic tastes, filled with everything from ancient artifacts to technological marvels that seemed to be from the far future.
"I’m in need of a weapon, Frank," Logan said, cutting straight to the point. "Something reliable but not too conspicuous."
Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm… I might have just the thing for you."
He set the device down before coming around the counter and leading Logan to a glass case filled with an assortment of weapons.
He pulled out a bulky handgun, its design unlike anything Logan had seen before. Its barrel was wide and short, and its grip was molded for a human hand but with grooves that accommodated extra digits.
"Here we go!" Frank announced proudly, "This is what you need!"
Logan gave the gun a dubious look. "What is it?"
"This, my friend, is a disruptor," Frank explained, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Straight from the Ironworks District, where they make the finest metalwork in the whole city! It fires condensed energy bolts. One shot can paralyze a human or stun something much larger. No blood, no mess. Perfect for self-defense in our fair city."
Logan gingerly picked it up, feeling its weight – it was lighter than it looked, the grip molding to his hand as if made for him.
"And it works on... everything?" he asked, squinting down the barrel.
Frank laughed, his voice like pebbles rattling in a can, a ripple of movement that ran down his body. "Nothing's guaranteed in this city, Logan. But it's better than nothing, right? Tell you what, I'll throw in a holster. It's enchanted, keeps the gun hidden until you need it."
Logan nodded.
"That sounds useful," he said, turning the gun over in his hands. "How much?"
Frank named a price. The human tried to haggle, but Frank was firm. "Quality costs, kid. Besides, it's not like you can find this tech anywhere else in the city."
Logan sighed, pulling out a handful of coins—the city's currency, stamped with symbols that seemed to shift and change as they were observed.
A few minutes later, he walked out of the pawn shop, the disruptor tucked securely in its new holster under his jacket, invisible at his side.
The rain fell steadily, as it almost always did in the city. It was a warm rain, filled with the scents of a thousand different places. At the same time, the thick fog swirled around him like a living thing.
Logan pulled up his hood and hurried through the streets, heading back up to Echo Park.
The streets were slick with water, reflecting the neon lights that flickered through the fog. Shadows moved in the alleys, unseen things scuttling just out of sight. Logan kept one hand on the gun, his fingers tracing the cool metal.
Logan reached his shop half an hour later, the neon sign casting a flickering glow over the wet street. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and breathed a sigh of relief. The familiar scent of vinyl and dust wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.
Shedding his jacket, Logan hung it up on a hook by the door. He switched on the record player on the counter, the needle dropping onto a well-loved album. An ambient rock tune filled the shop, a sad melody that had a strong beat.
Logan smiled, settling into the worn chair behind the counter.
He had just begun to settle into the comforting embrace of the music when the soft chime of the door opening echoed through the shop.
Sitting up, Logan expected to see one of his regulars or maybe a new customer browsing the vinyl-laden shelves. However, a quick scan of the room revealed no one.
A slight cough echoed through the shop, drawing his gaze down over the counter's edge.
Blinking in surprise, Logan took in the sight of the peculiar creature standing on the worn wooden floor. It was a cat, but unlike any he'd ever seen before. It stood on two legs. Its fur was long and sleek, dripping wet from the rain, and its eyes were striking emerald green. It wore a fancy white and blue Victorian frock coat adorned with intricate lace and a matching top hat perched jauntily on its head. One of its ears was pierced with a gold ring.
Tucked under one arm was a parcel, carefully wrapped in oilcloth to protect it from the elements.
The cat creature had been looking up at Logan, its tail flicking gently. When the human noticed it, it whipped off his top hat with a flourish and bowed.
"Ah, good day to ye, sir!" he greeted, his voice brimming with a cheery Scottish accent. "The name's Smudge and I find maself in need of yer services."
Leaning on the counter, Logan raised an eyebrow. "My services? You mean as a courier?"
"Aye, lad!" the cat, Smudge, replied as he straightened, plopping the hat back onto his head. "I've heard good things about ye. Everyone's says yer the best o' the best. And… at the moment, I'm in a wee bit of a situation, ye see."
"What kind… situation?" Logan asked, feeling suspicious.
Smudge leaped onto the counter with a single hop, setting his parcel down.
"It goes like this," he explained, "I was out retrieving an item for me employer, Mr. Direman. Important stuff, ye ken. But I was ambushed. Bloody gangs from the other districts, all workin' together. They chased me through half the city, but I managed to slip away."
Logan, listening to this story, nodded in understanding.
"And now you need an escort," he surmised.
Smudge tipped his hat, a grateful smile on his feline features. "Aye, that'd be about right. I cannae be sure where those thugs are lurkin', and I dinna fancy me chances alone."
"Well, I admit it does sound dangerous… but also interesting," Logan said, sitting back in his chair. Where do you need to go?"
"Clear across the city, in the Blackstone District," Smudge admitted, a note of apology in his voice. "I know it's a long way, and it might be dangerous, but –"
Logan held up a hand, his expression dubious; he was already plagued by visions of the last time he passed through that district.
"Blackstone isn't a place you venture to lightly," he said. "I've had my fair share of close calls while doing jobs there. Besides, that's a long way, and with those gangs on your tail... it could get dangerous."
Smudge nodded solemnly. "Aye, I dinna deny it. But I'm willin' to make it worth yer while."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch, upending it on the counter. A pile of gleaming coins spilled out, more than Logan made in a month. The symbols etched into their surfaces seemed to shimmer in the dim light, promising substantial reward.
"Mr. Direman is willin' to pay handsomely for me safe return," Smudge said, pushing the stack of coins towards Logan. "And I'll throw in a bit extra meself, for yer trouble."
Logan whistled at the sight; that much money could go a long way. It could mean repairs for the shop, taking care of the rent, getting new stock, a better security system, and investing in some of the rarer records he'd had his eyes on.
He looked from the coins to Smudge. The cat's eyes were earnest, his posture tense. He was clearly desperate, and the offer was more than tempting. Logan thought of the disruptor holstered at his side, of the unpredictable dangers of the city.
Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking to the parcel. "What's in the package?"
Smudge shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannae say. But it's important, and I need tae get it back tae ma employer."
"Alright, Smudge," he said, scooping up the coins back into the pouch. "You've got yourself a deal. But we do this my way. I know the safest routes, and we won't take any shortcuts."
Smudge's face lit up, his tail flicking eagerly. "Ye willnae regret it, Logan! I promise ye that."
Logan tucked the pouch into a drawer beneath the counter. "When do we leave?"
Smudge glanced out the window, his eyes narrowing at the pouring rain.
"As soon as possible," he said, his tail flicking anxiously. "I dinnae want to stay in one place too long, just in case."
Logan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the hook. He slipped it on and turned to Smudge, gesturing towards the door. "Let's go, then. The sooner we start, the sooner we get there."
Smudge nodded, picking up his parcel and clutching it tightly.
As they stepped out into the rain, Logan locked the shop behind him, his mind already mapping out the quickest route to the Blackstone District. The city stretched out before them, a labyrinth of fog and shadows, the distant rumble of thunder echoing through the streets.
His Honda Super Cub was parked nearby, its chrome gleaming wetly in the dim light. Logan swung a leg over the seat, kicking the engine to life. Smudge climbed onto the back, his claws digging into Logan's shoulders for balance.
"Hold on tight," Logan said, revving the engine.
The bike jumped forward, its tires splashing through the rain-soaked streets. They sped through Echo Park, the fog parting before them like a spectral sea.
The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the fog thickening until it clung to Logan's skin like a damp shroud. The Blackstone District loomed out of the darkness, starkly contrasting the grimy, eclectic neighborhoods he was used to.
Towering concrete and steel buildings—prime examples of brutalist art deco architecture—stretched skyward, their surfaces slick with rain and reflecting neon lights. The streets were wider here, and the sidewalks were lined with lampposts that cast eerie, elongated shadows.
It was a district straight out of a noir film but with a sinister edge that was uniquely the city's own.
Logan gripped the motorcycle's handlebars tightly, his knuckles white as he navigated the slick streets. Smudge clung to his back, his breath hot and rapid against Logan's ear as he gave him directions.
They had been lucky so far, and Logan hoped it would hold out for a little bit longer.
Their path took them over a massive suspension bridge, the city sprawling beneath them like a glittering, malevolent beast.
A sudden, savage growl cut through the rain as a sleek shadow detached itself from the darkness and lunged at them. Logan caught a glimpse of black fur, glowing red eyes, and a leather jacket adorned with chains.
The creature snarled as it slammed into the motorcycle, nearly sending them careening over the edge. Logan fought to regain control, his heart pounding in his chest as the bike swerved wildly.
Logan finally managed to get the motorcycle to come to a screeching halt, skidding over the wet road for several feet. The creature likewise stopped ahead of them, allowing them to see it fully.
It was a quadrupedal pantherine beast with wolf-like features, its black fur glistening in the nearby lamplight. Its thin mane and the tuft at the end of its long, lashing tail were bright, fiery red, glowing like embers in the night. A leather jacket adorned with chains wrapped around its sleeves completed its menacing appearance.
Smudge's claws dug in tighter on Logan's back as he hissed a warning.
"That's Quickfang!" he yelped, his voice barely audible over the howling wind and roaring engine. "He's a high-rankin' member of the Shadow Paw Gang, Logan! Dinna let him catch us!"
Quickfang clenched one of the chains in his jaws with a snarl and pulled it free, turning it into a makeshift whip.
The chain lashed out, the metal links whistling through the air. Logan ducked, feeling the chain pass inches from his head. He drew the disruptor and fired a shot.
A semitransparent burst of energy shot out from the barrel, striking Quickfang on the side and making him stagger.
Logan revved the engine and shot forward. As they passed, Quickfang recovered and swung the chain again. This time, before it could connect, Smudge whipped his hat off and used it to parry the blow.
Quickfang let out a howl and gave chase, the chain still clutched firmly in his jaws.
Logan fired a shot over his shoulder, the energy bolt sizzling through the air. Quickfang dodged it this time, the bolt just grazing his flank, eyes narrowing as he redoubled his pursuit.
The chase continued into the heart of the district, the motorcycle's engine screaming as Logan pushed it to its limits. Quickfang was relentless, his powerful legs propelling him forward with terrifying speed. Donning his hat again, Smudge drew a small, wicked-looking knife from his coat and slashed at the beast whenever he came too close.
Cars seemed to come out of nowhere in the mists, horns honking as Logan sped past, weaving in and out of traffic.
Why is it, Logan wondered, that the streets always become more crowded whenever you're being chased?
However, no matter what he did, Quickfang always managed to keep pace. The beast seemed to be able to teleport between shadows, using this to get close several times as he launched his attacks.
"Doesn't he ever give up?" Logan asked, glaring at Quickfang, who was now running along the tops of the cars right next to them.
The beast's chain lashed out again, coming right for their heads.
"Na, he doesn't!" Smudge replied as they both ducked just in time, the chain slashing a streetlamp in half.
Logan gritted his teeth, steering the bike onto the sidewalk in a desperate attempt to escape. Pedestrians scattered, their curses lost in the roar of the engine. Quickfang leaped off the cars and soon kept pace right behind them.
"I don't know how long I can keep this up!" Logan yelped, throwing the throttle as far as it would go on his motorcycle.
"We just need tae get to Mr. Direman's estate!" Smudge shouted, deflecting another strike from the chain with his knife. "We'll be under his protection once we're in –"
They'd just shot out from around the corner of a building when a powerful engine roared, and bright headlights blinded them.
A bright red, open-roofed Cadillac screeched by, just missing them by inches. Its occupants, a pair of wolf-like creatures, whooped in excited voices as they brought the car around and began following them from the street.
In the brief moment he took to look back, Logan saw they were both wearing what looked like skull masks, pinpricks of light burning from within the darkened eye sockets.
"Oh, that's just perfect! It's the Flamemont brothers from the Ember Striders!" Smudge exclaimed, his voice dripping with chagrin. "Joey and Jasper, they're after the package too! Watch yerself, lad, they're –"
At that moment, Jasper, the larger of the two brothers, stood in the passenger seat. A fireball blazing to life in his hand, he threw it at them, the projectile hissing through the rain like a comet.
Logan swerved, the fireball just barely missing them and exploding against a storefront window, sending shards of glass everywhere.
"– hellhounds!" Smudge finished, holding tightly onto Logan's neck.
Quickfang reappeared right next to them as Logan swerved back onto the street and out into oncoming traffic. The beast's chain whip struck the pavement like a lightning crack before lashing out again. It slammed into a car that got in the way, creating a massive dent in its side.
The chase continued, with Logan and Smudge racing through the rain and weaving in and out of traffic while Quickfang and Flamemont's Cadillac pursued them. Attacks from the chain and fireballs left a trail of devastation behind them the further they went.
Logan fired the disruptor over his shoulder, aiming for Quickfang, who dodged out of the way. The energy bolt struck the side of the Cadillac, leaving a dent and chipping the red paint.
"Oi! Whatcha doin'!" the smaller of the Flamemonts, Joey, shouted at Logan from the driver's seat, his eyes blazing in his skull. "You're gonna pay for that, ya are!"
Once again, Logan had to swerve out of the way as a fireball disintegrated the road where he'd been. His path almost made him run straight into a massive truck, just narrowly avoiding becoming a pancake as the larger vehicle's horn blasted in their ears.
Behind them, Logan began to make out Quickfang and the Flamemont brothers shouting at each other.
"Wha' in bloody blazes are ye two doin' here?" Shouted a slightly muffled voice, Logan guessed it was Quickfang. "This is me target! Both of ye get lost before I make ye regret it!"
Joey's cackling laughter filled the air. "Oh, really? And I'd just luv ta see a mangy fleabag like yerself try! That relic belongs ta us, so don't get in our way, yeah?"
"They both sound so charming," Logan stated as more shouts, insults, and curses filled the air.
"We're almost at Mr. Direman's estate!" Smudge urged, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "Just a little further, Logan!"
The words had just barely left his mouth when one of the Flamemont brothers hurled a fireball at Quickfang, who deflected it with his chain. This sent the errant projectile into the air, exploding underneath an overpass.
Large chunks of road, metal, and other rubble rained down on the street below. Logan managed to swerve to avoid being crushed, but the shockwave sent him, Smudge, and the others flying.
The world spun by in a dizzying blur of color and pain. Logan hit the ground hard and rolled, his breath knocked from his lungs as he came to a stop against a wall. He lay there momentarily, dazed and disoriented, the rain pounding down on him like a thousand tiny anvils. He could hear the others, their voices distant and muffled as if coming from underwater.
He looked around, vision swimming before his eyes, as he heard a clattering sound.
It was the parcel that Smudge had been trying to protect. It rolled across the ground, its wrappings tearing away to reveal an ornate, black metal box.
Its lid swung open when it came to a stop, and out came a small, silvery object.
Logan squinted, his vision adjusting as the object came into focus—an old-looking signet ring made from tarnished silver. It lay on the ground a few feet away, and as he watched, it began to glow softly and lift off the ground.
There was a scrabbling sound as figures appeared out of the fog. Quickfang and the Flamemont brothers, battered but still alive, were making a mad dash for the ring, a hungry glint in their eyes.
Smudge, his hat missing, was stumbling to his feet, his face a mask of panic.
"Logan! Dinna let them get it!" he cried out, his voice hoarse with desperation.
His body still aching, Logan reached out for the ring.
Before he or any of the others could get it, the ring – moved by some unseen force – slipped onto Logan's finger. He gasped at the sensation of its metal burning like cold fire against his skin.
The glow from the ring grew stronger, sending a pulse through his hand like a second heartbeat, almost as though the ring were alive.
Energy surged through Logan's hand from the ring, sending a shockwave that sent them all flying again.
After another painful landing, Logan lay on the ground, barely able to move. He could feel himself starting to pass out, his body wracked with pain. Just before consciousness slipped away, he saw a large, black-hoofed foot stepping into his vision line.
He looked up, his gaze traveling up the goat-like legs, past the long, lashing tail ending in a spade, to the muscular upper body and the head adorned with long, curved horns. The being was a dark shade of black that seemed to absorb the light around it. No features could be seen on its face save for a pair of white eyes that gazed down at Logan with an intensity that seemed to burn through him.
The being reached out a hand, its fingers long and elegant, the nails sharp as talons.
It touched the ring on Logan's finger, and a jolt of energy passed between them. Logan could feel the being's presence in his mind, an ancient force that seemed to fill the very air around him.
And then, with a final surge of power, Logan's world went dark. The last thing he heard was the distant howling of the wind and the whispered words of the being that stood over him, its voice like the echo of a long-forgotten song.
'It appears as though we were too late,' it said, the words resonating through Logan's mind as he slipped into unconsciousness. 'It has already chosen.'
And then Logan slipped into unconsciousness, the darkness pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When Logan came to, he found himself in a dimly lit room, the air filled with the scent of old books and polished wood. He was lying on a plush, red leather couch, a thick blanket draped over him.
His body still ached, but the pain was dull as if he had been given something to ease his discomfort.
Sitting up, Logan's eyes adjusted to the low light.
The room was a study, its walls lined with bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. A grand fireplace dominated one wall, its mantel adorned with strange artifacts and curiosities. The soft glow of streetlamps and neon signs illuminated the room from the darkened windows.
Logan's disruptor lay on a table next to the couch. He vaguely remembered it flying out of his grip during the crash. It seemed that whoever brought him here didn't mind if he was armed.
As he picked up and reholstered the disruptor, a soft click came from a nearby door before it was opened.
In stepped Smudge, his tail flicking nervously and holding a steaming cup of tea.
"Ye awake, lad," Smudge said, bringing the cup over to Logan. "How are ye feelin'?"
"Like I went ten rounds with an angry bulldozer," he muttered, accepting the tea when Smudge offered it. "What happened? Where are we?"
"We're at Mr. Direman's estate," Smudge explained as Logan took a long sip from the cup. "He brought ye here after... well, after what happened."
As Logan took a sip from the cup, he glanced at his hand and his eyes widened as he saw the ring still on his finger. The metal was cool to the touch, its surface etched with intricate symbols that seemed to shift and change in the light.
"The… ring," he said, looking up at Smudge. "What is it? And why does everyone want it so badly?"
The cat hesitated, his eyes flicking towards the door once more.
"I... I cannae say, Logan. It's not me place. But Mr. Direman will explain everything. He's waitin' to speak with ye once yer ready."
Logan nodded before he stood up and followed Smudge out of the door.
The two wandered the lavish hallways of Mr. Direman's estate for a few minutes, Logan's mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
On his finger, the ring felt heavy. Its presence was a constant reminder of the surreal turn his life had taken… more surreal than it already was, anyway. He couldn't escape the feeling that he was way over his head.
Well, it wasn't like he could turn back now.
Before long, they entered an office, an elegant and comfortable room illuminated by a few strategically placed lamps and a lit fireplace. Like the study, the walls here were lined with bookshelves filled with ancient-looking tomes.
As they entered, Logan was surprised to see Quickfang and the Flamemont brothers seated on a sofa across the room.
On one end, Quickfang glared out the nearby window at the rain, his tail twitching irritatedly. He glanced over as Logan and Smudge entered but merely shot them an angry stare before returning his gaze outside.
The brothers sat at the other end. Now that they were out of the car – and he wasn't about to pass out – Logan was able to get a good look at them. He'd heard all about hellhounds before but never saw one up close.
Their shaggy fur was a dark, ashen brown that was almost black. They had sharp claws on their hands and bare feet and long bushy tails that ended in light patches of fur. And their faces… Logan had thought they were wearing masks during the chase, but he could now see those were their real faces – exposed skulls with gleaming white bone.
Both wore similar outfits, including frayed jeans, dark rock band shirts, and vintage 70s jackets.
Joey sat slumped on the sofa, arms crossed like a petulant child as he glared at the floor. Next to him, Jasper – taking up much of the available room on the seat with his bulk – sat upright, holding onto his tail in both hands as he looked nervously at everyone.
And seated behind a desk sat the dark figure Logan saw earlier.
As they entered, a familiar voice spoke directly into their minds, resonating with an otherworldly timbre. 'Ah, Mr. Hartley, it is a pleasure to finally meet you properly. I am Mr. Direman. Please, take a seat.'
Logan sat in the leather armchair across from the desk, Smudge jumping up to stand on the armrest.
'Now then,' Mr. Direman said, 'I trust that Mr. Whittney has told you where you are?'
Logan was momentarily confused before realizing he must have been talking about Smudge. "Y-yeah, he said we're in your estate… we were coming here because he needed to deliver the parcel… and the ring…"
He looked down at the ring and tried to slide it off his finger, but it wouldn't budge. "This ring… it was supposed to go to you, right?"
Mr. Direman nodded, his white eyes unblinking. 'Indeed, it was supposed to. However, it would seem as though the ring had other plans, a possibility I should have foreseen. The ring has chosen you, Mr. Hartley.'
Hearing this, Logan froze in the action of trying to take the ring off and looked up. "What?"
'I can understand your confusion, let me explain.'
Mr. Direman waved a hand, and one of the tomes lifted from the shelves and flew over to the desk. The black entity picked it out of the air, opened it, and turned it to face Logan.
On it, among the ancient writing that he couldn't understand, he could clearly see several diagrams of a ring that looked very much like the one on his finger.
'Each world has an artifact of a similar nature, all going by different names: the Crown of Wisdom, the Ring of Seven Seals, and the Seal of Solomon, to name a few. They are artifacts of exceptional power, to such an extent that they form their own wills, deciding who can wield them. My intentions in bringing it here had been to keep it safe from anyone who would try and use it for nefarious intent.'
Mr. Direman sighed, closing the book and setting it down.
'Unfortunately, that's when… the incident occurred…'
He shot a glare over at the three on the sofa.
'… and as a result, the ring was brought into direct contact with you, and it decided that you were the right person it was looking for.'
The three did an excellent job of pretending they couldn't see Mr. Direman. Quickfang was still glaring out at the rain, Joey's gaze didn't leave the floor, and Jasper quickly looked over at the fireplace.
Still processing everything he was told, Logan looked back down at the ring. "So… what exactly is this supposed to do?"
The thought some having some kind of weapon stuck on his finger was less than ideal, and he wanted to know what he was getting himself into.
'There's no exact record on this particular artifact,' Mr. Direman replied, looking back at Logan. 'But if the pattern remains the same, then there's one ability I think we can safely confirm. The ring can forge connections with powerful beings, allowing the wearer to harness their abilities. It would seem as though, not long after choosing you, the ring also bound the ones who were trying to claim it to you.'
"Wha – ?" Logan's mind reeled. "Bonded?"
"Aye, it's all true, lad," Smudge spoke up, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder. "I dinnae ken how it works, but I can feel it – a connection, like a thread running between us."
Logan looked from Smudge to the trio on the sofa, an incredulous look on his face. "You mean… I'm connected to them?"
Mr. Direman nodded. 'You are. You can now call upon their power whenever you see fit to do so.'
A snort came from the couch as Quickfang turned, his eyes flashing as he glared at Logan.
"I ain't buyin' it," he snarled. "No measly trinket or weak human could ever hold that kind o' power over me."
In a split second, he lunged off the sofa, claws and fangs bared as he shot at Logan. The human started to jump back while Smudge brought his knife back out, ready to defend him.
However, just before he could reach them, the ring flashed.
Quickfang froze in the air, his face startled, before being dropped to the floor, where he landed in a heap.
Mr. Direman chuckled, the sound echoing in their minds.
'One bound by the ring's power cannot harm its wearer. Do you require any more proof?'
Muttering darkly, Quickfang got back to his feet before stalking back over to his place on the sofa. Once up, he glared at Logan, his tail twitching in irritation.
'Given the circumstances,' Mr. Direman continued, 'I have already made arrangements with the Shadow Paws and Ember Striders. Quickfang, Joey, and Jasper will be transferring over to my group for the time being.'
Both Quickfang and the smaller Flamemont brother immediately started at that, clearly outraged.
"You can't do that!" Joey exclaimed, his eyes blazing. "You ain't got the authority to just take us like that, mate!"
"Yeah!" Quickfang agreed, "I ain't working for no –"
Mr. Direman silenced them both with a glare. 'This isn't a matter of debate. And given the amount of damage you all caused to my district on the way here, I'd say that's the least you owe me. Both your leaders are in agreement on this.'
Quickfang turned to stare back out the window, his expression sullen. Joey recrossed his arms and sulked, his brother patting him on the head.
Logan watched all this with a growing sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.
Turning his attention back to the human, Mr. Diremon said, 'On a similar note, I would like to offer you a job, Mr. Hartley. You may continue running your record shop as you like, but you would also work as a factotum for me.'
"What would you expect me to do?" Logan asked cautiously.
'Nothing of a dubious nature, I can assure you. The duties will vary from general handyman tasks to helping facilitate deals between the various gangs and districts in the city.'
Mr. Direman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and his chin on his hands. 'In addition, you will receive protection. Once word gets out that you're in possession of the most powerful artifact in the city, there's no telling who or what will try to get their hands on it.'
Logan hesitated, considering the offer.
Business at the shop hadn't exactly been great as of late, and the thought of other gangs and people coming after him was far from appealing.
After a moment, he nodded. "Alright, I'm in."
Mr. Direman inclined his head in a gesture of approval. 'Excellent. Then everything is settled.'
He turned to the trio on the sofa, his voice taking on a dismissive tone. 'You three may leave now. Smudge will show you to your quarters.'
Quickfang was the first to leave, hopping down from the sofa and prowling over to the door. The pantherine creature's tail lashed and thwacked Logan across the face when he passed. The action was more surprising than painful, but the message was clear.
Joey stomped by, glaring at Logan, while Jasper followed quietly, giving a nervous smile as he passed.
As the door closed behind them, a sudden thought hit Logan.
"Mr. Direman," he began, hesitating slightly, "Back before I blacked out… you touched the ring, and it reacted to you."
The dark creature regarded him with a steady, emotionless gaze. 'I did, Mr. Hartley. And as you've doubtlessly guessed, I am also now bound to the ring.'
Logan's eyes widened, a sense of full realization and fear washing over him.
"But... doesn't that mean I could also control you too?"
Mr. Direman's eyes narrowed, and Logan could feel the dark creature's displeasure like a physical force.
'It would take a great deal to control me, Mr. Hartley,' he said, his voice resonating in Logan's mind. 'And I would advise you not to attempt it. For the time being, our relationship should remain one of mutual respect and cooperation.'
Logan nodded, catching onto the unspoken warning in Mr. Direman's words. "Understood."
Mr. Direman stood, his towering form casting a long shadow over the desk. 'You should return to your shop now, Mr. Hartley. Tomorrow will be a busy day, and you'll need rest. Mr. Whittney will see you out and accompany you.'
As if on cue, Smudge reappeared and beckoned for Logan to follow him.
Logan rose from the chair, his body aching from the day's events. He followed Smudge out of the office and down through the estate, eventually bringing him to a massive garage.
It was filled with cars, not only ones that matched the 1940s aesthetic outside but also ones from other districts.
Down at the far end, Logan's motorcycle was parked, looking as good as new. He ran a hand over the repaired body, marveling at the workmanship.
"Mr. Direman had it fixed up while ye were out," Smudge explained, hopping up onto the seat. "He has connections and kens the right folk tae call."
"Sounds useful," Logan chuckled, swinging a leg over the bike.
The engine purred to life beneath him, sounding as good as it looked.
Logan revved the engine and sped out of the garage and back into the rain-soaked streets of the Blackstone District.
The journey back to the shop was uneventful; the streets were slick with rain, and the fog was as thick as ever. All the while, Logan's mind was racing with thoughts of what lay before him… more than just the familiar streets of Nebulopolis.
With the ring on his finger and his new associates, he could tell his future would become much more interesting. The city around him had already been a place of mists and echoes, a place where dangers and opportunities could lurk around any corner.
And now, every dark corner seemed to be hiding some new threat.
As they pulled up outside Echoes of Analog, Logan inwardly sighed in relief. They had made it without incident.
"I have an apartment up on the second level," he said as they stepped into the shop, the familiar sent of vinyl and dust welcoming him home.
Logan guided Smudge up the stairs behind the counter. They led to a short hallway that connected a bathroom, supply and linen closet, and the bedroom—a medium-sized room that also doubled as a lounge, with a couch and television along with the bed.
"It's not much," Logan said, looking around, "but it's been my home for the last few years."
Smudge hopped up onto the couch, checking it over and feeling the cushions. It was older than dirt, and its brown leather was worn from years of use, but the cat seemed to find it comfortable enough.
"This is pure perfect, I dinnae need much tae be comfortable," he said before he yawned. "Now, if ye dinnae mind, I'm gonna tak' a wee catnap."
Taking his coat and hat off with a flourish, Smudge curled up on the cushion and fell asleep in seconds. The cat snored softly, his little chest rising and falling with each breath.
"You do that," Logan said with a soft chuckle.
Glancing over at the clock, he was surprised to see that it was early in the morning, just before what should have been dawn.
"Well, it's not like I was going to be able to fall asleep anyway," he sighed before turning to go back downstairs. "Might as well get started for the day."
Logan proceeded downstairs in preparation for opening. With a final glance at the ring, he wondered just what sort of adventures lay before him and just when Mr. Direman would have need of his services.
This preview went on longer than I thought it would, so what we're looking at here will probably end up being two chapters once I get around to it ^^;
What we have here is an urban fantasy mixed with science fiction. A major source of setting inspiration was the manga/anime Blood Blockade Battlefront.
There's a couple different character references in it - a couple of playable characters from Final Fantasy VII, a furry persona, and a villain from Zenescope's Grimm Fairy Tales comics... all subject to change as the series progresses in development, of course XD
For those wonder, here's the tune I imagined Logan playing in the shop, before Smudge shows up: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=td3P1-cfZ4E
Read and Enjoy ^_^
~ Aaron
The event that had transformed it was shrouded in the same mists that filled its streets. It was a silent, creeping metamorphosis that had expanded the city into a multidimensional labyrinth. The city's name, once familiar to its inhabitants, had been lost to the fog, and now it was known as Nebulopolis, a city of a hundred or more worlds.
The city had become an enormous maze, a sprawling upward expanse of architecture that defied logic and most natural laws of physics.
Gothic spires stood beside glass skyscrapers, and Victorian townhouses perched on cliffs of concrete and steel. Elevated streets crisscrossed the sky, connected by staircases and ladders that seemed to dangle precariously in mid-air. Parks floated on islands of green, tethered to the surrounding buildings by colossal vines and chains. Transit lines, a web of cables and rails, carried cable cars and trams that rumbled through the fog like ghostly apparitions.
Each city sector was unique, a patchwork of different realities stitched together by the uncanny needle of whatever force had transformed the city. In one district, the buildings were adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to dance in the dim light, and the air was filled with the scent of exotic spices. In another, the streets were lined with cherry blossom trees that bloomed perpetually, their petals glowing softly in the constant dusk. Some sectors were less inviting, with buildings that seemed to leer menacingly and shadows that writhed with unseen creatures.
The inhabitants of the city were as diverse as its architecture. Humans lived alongside beings, seemingly stepping straight out of myth and legend. Faeries and demons, monsters and aliens, all went about their daily lives in the city's winding streets. More unsettling denizens also called the city home – creatures with tentacles and fangs, beings of smoke and shadow, and entities that defied description, the forms seemingly assembled from the broken pieces of reality itself.
Logan Hartley, a young human in his mid-twenties, had become a resident. He had been in Nebulopolis for what felt like years, though time was as unreliable as memory here. Like so many others, he had been drawn to the city by forces he couldn't explain, chasing a reason he couldn't remember.
He had found his niche in one of the city's upper-mid levels, Echo Park, running a small shop that bought and sold vinyl records. Music was his passion, a universal language that transcended the city's myriad realities. His shop, Echoes of Analog, was a haven for those seeking the comforting crackle of a needle on vinyl, a melody to anchor them in the city's ever-shifting landscape.
Still, despite its appeal to those already into vinyl, the business wasn’t as stable as it could have been. As a result, Logan also did courier work to supplement his income.
The city's unpredictable nature made reliable communication and delivery services a rarity, and Logan's knowledge of the city's labyrinthine streets was in high demand.
But the job wasn't without its risks. The city could be dangerous, its inhabitants fickle, and its streets treacherous. Logan had encountered his share of hazards, from streets that vanished beneath his feet to creatures that lurked in the shadows, hungry for more than just music.
After an alarming encounter with a pack of snarling, red-eyed beasts in a dark alleyway, Logan decided he needed protection.
*****Down two levels from Echo Park was the Midway Market, a collection of shops and stalls that sold food, medicines, and anything else one could want in the city. In a grimy corner, beyond a nondescript door, was a pawn shop run by an old friend of his.
"Logan, my boy!" Frank called out as the human entered, his mandibles clicking together in a semblance of speech. He polished a peculiar device with several of his legs, his other limbs busy cataloging various oddities. "Always great to see ya! What brings you down to my humble establishment today?"
Frank was a creature of indeterminate origin, a fat, multi-limbed insectoid with a penchant for collecting the odd and the unusual. His shop reflected his eclectic tastes, filled with everything from ancient artifacts to technological marvels that seemed to be from the far future.
"I’m in need of a weapon, Frank," Logan said, cutting straight to the point. "Something reliable but not too conspicuous."
Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm… I might have just the thing for you."
He set the device down before coming around the counter and leading Logan to a glass case filled with an assortment of weapons.
He pulled out a bulky handgun, its design unlike anything Logan had seen before. Its barrel was wide and short, and its grip was molded for a human hand but with grooves that accommodated extra digits.
"Here we go!" Frank announced proudly, "This is what you need!"
Logan gave the gun a dubious look. "What is it?"
"This, my friend, is a disruptor," Frank explained, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Straight from the Ironworks District, where they make the finest metalwork in the whole city! It fires condensed energy bolts. One shot can paralyze a human or stun something much larger. No blood, no mess. Perfect for self-defense in our fair city."
Logan gingerly picked it up, feeling its weight – it was lighter than it looked, the grip molding to his hand as if made for him.
"And it works on... everything?" he asked, squinting down the barrel.
Frank laughed, his voice like pebbles rattling in a can, a ripple of movement that ran down his body. "Nothing's guaranteed in this city, Logan. But it's better than nothing, right? Tell you what, I'll throw in a holster. It's enchanted, keeps the gun hidden until you need it."
Logan nodded.
"That sounds useful," he said, turning the gun over in his hands. "How much?"
Frank named a price. The human tried to haggle, but Frank was firm. "Quality costs, kid. Besides, it's not like you can find this tech anywhere else in the city."
Logan sighed, pulling out a handful of coins—the city's currency, stamped with symbols that seemed to shift and change as they were observed.
A few minutes later, he walked out of the pawn shop, the disruptor tucked securely in its new holster under his jacket, invisible at his side.
The rain fell steadily, as it almost always did in the city. It was a warm rain, filled with the scents of a thousand different places. At the same time, the thick fog swirled around him like a living thing.
Logan pulled up his hood and hurried through the streets, heading back up to Echo Park.
The streets were slick with water, reflecting the neon lights that flickered through the fog. Shadows moved in the alleys, unseen things scuttling just out of sight. Logan kept one hand on the gun, his fingers tracing the cool metal.
Logan reached his shop half an hour later, the neon sign casting a flickering glow over the wet street. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and breathed a sigh of relief. The familiar scent of vinyl and dust wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.
Shedding his jacket, Logan hung it up on a hook by the door. He switched on the record player on the counter, the needle dropping onto a well-loved album. An ambient rock tune filled the shop, a sad melody that had a strong beat.
Logan smiled, settling into the worn chair behind the counter.
He had just begun to settle into the comforting embrace of the music when the soft chime of the door opening echoed through the shop.
Sitting up, Logan expected to see one of his regulars or maybe a new customer browsing the vinyl-laden shelves. However, a quick scan of the room revealed no one.
A slight cough echoed through the shop, drawing his gaze down over the counter's edge.
Blinking in surprise, Logan took in the sight of the peculiar creature standing on the worn wooden floor. It was a cat, but unlike any he'd ever seen before. It stood on two legs. Its fur was long and sleek, dripping wet from the rain, and its eyes were striking emerald green. It wore a fancy white and blue Victorian frock coat adorned with intricate lace and a matching top hat perched jauntily on its head. One of its ears was pierced with a gold ring.
Tucked under one arm was a parcel, carefully wrapped in oilcloth to protect it from the elements.
The cat creature had been looking up at Logan, its tail flicking gently. When the human noticed it, it whipped off his top hat with a flourish and bowed.
"Ah, good day to ye, sir!" he greeted, his voice brimming with a cheery Scottish accent. "The name's Smudge and I find maself in need of yer services."
Leaning on the counter, Logan raised an eyebrow. "My services? You mean as a courier?"
"Aye, lad!" the cat, Smudge, replied as he straightened, plopping the hat back onto his head. "I've heard good things about ye. Everyone's says yer the best o' the best. And… at the moment, I'm in a wee bit of a situation, ye see."
"What kind… situation?" Logan asked, feeling suspicious.
Smudge leaped onto the counter with a single hop, setting his parcel down.
"It goes like this," he explained, "I was out retrieving an item for me employer, Mr. Direman. Important stuff, ye ken. But I was ambushed. Bloody gangs from the other districts, all workin' together. They chased me through half the city, but I managed to slip away."
Logan, listening to this story, nodded in understanding.
"And now you need an escort," he surmised.
Smudge tipped his hat, a grateful smile on his feline features. "Aye, that'd be about right. I cannae be sure where those thugs are lurkin', and I dinna fancy me chances alone."
"Well, I admit it does sound dangerous… but also interesting," Logan said, sitting back in his chair. Where do you need to go?"
"Clear across the city, in the Blackstone District," Smudge admitted, a note of apology in his voice. "I know it's a long way, and it might be dangerous, but –"
Logan held up a hand, his expression dubious; he was already plagued by visions of the last time he passed through that district.
"Blackstone isn't a place you venture to lightly," he said. "I've had my fair share of close calls while doing jobs there. Besides, that's a long way, and with those gangs on your tail... it could get dangerous."
Smudge nodded solemnly. "Aye, I dinna deny it. But I'm willin' to make it worth yer while."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch, upending it on the counter. A pile of gleaming coins spilled out, more than Logan made in a month. The symbols etched into their surfaces seemed to shimmer in the dim light, promising substantial reward.
"Mr. Direman is willin' to pay handsomely for me safe return," Smudge said, pushing the stack of coins towards Logan. "And I'll throw in a bit extra meself, for yer trouble."
Logan whistled at the sight; that much money could go a long way. It could mean repairs for the shop, taking care of the rent, getting new stock, a better security system, and investing in some of the rarer records he'd had his eyes on.
He looked from the coins to Smudge. The cat's eyes were earnest, his posture tense. He was clearly desperate, and the offer was more than tempting. Logan thought of the disruptor holstered at his side, of the unpredictable dangers of the city.
Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking to the parcel. "What's in the package?"
Smudge shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannae say. But it's important, and I need tae get it back tae ma employer."
"Alright, Smudge," he said, scooping up the coins back into the pouch. "You've got yourself a deal. But we do this my way. I know the safest routes, and we won't take any shortcuts."
Smudge's face lit up, his tail flicking eagerly. "Ye willnae regret it, Logan! I promise ye that."
Logan tucked the pouch into a drawer beneath the counter. "When do we leave?"
Smudge glanced out the window, his eyes narrowing at the pouring rain.
"As soon as possible," he said, his tail flicking anxiously. "I dinnae want to stay in one place too long, just in case."
Logan nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the hook. He slipped it on and turned to Smudge, gesturing towards the door. "Let's go, then. The sooner we start, the sooner we get there."
Smudge nodded, picking up his parcel and clutching it tightly.
As they stepped out into the rain, Logan locked the shop behind him, his mind already mapping out the quickest route to the Blackstone District. The city stretched out before them, a labyrinth of fog and shadows, the distant rumble of thunder echoing through the streets.
His Honda Super Cub was parked nearby, its chrome gleaming wetly in the dim light. Logan swung a leg over the seat, kicking the engine to life. Smudge climbed onto the back, his claws digging into Logan's shoulders for balance.
"Hold on tight," Logan said, revving the engine.
The bike jumped forward, its tires splashing through the rain-soaked streets. They sped through Echo Park, the fog parting before them like a spectral sea.
*****The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the fog thickening until it clung to Logan's skin like a damp shroud. The Blackstone District loomed out of the darkness, starkly contrasting the grimy, eclectic neighborhoods he was used to.
Towering concrete and steel buildings—prime examples of brutalist art deco architecture—stretched skyward, their surfaces slick with rain and reflecting neon lights. The streets were wider here, and the sidewalks were lined with lampposts that cast eerie, elongated shadows.
It was a district straight out of a noir film but with a sinister edge that was uniquely the city's own.
Logan gripped the motorcycle's handlebars tightly, his knuckles white as he navigated the slick streets. Smudge clung to his back, his breath hot and rapid against Logan's ear as he gave him directions.
They had been lucky so far, and Logan hoped it would hold out for a little bit longer.
Their path took them over a massive suspension bridge, the city sprawling beneath them like a glittering, malevolent beast.
A sudden, savage growl cut through the rain as a sleek shadow detached itself from the darkness and lunged at them. Logan caught a glimpse of black fur, glowing red eyes, and a leather jacket adorned with chains.
The creature snarled as it slammed into the motorcycle, nearly sending them careening over the edge. Logan fought to regain control, his heart pounding in his chest as the bike swerved wildly.
Logan finally managed to get the motorcycle to come to a screeching halt, skidding over the wet road for several feet. The creature likewise stopped ahead of them, allowing them to see it fully.
It was a quadrupedal pantherine beast with wolf-like features, its black fur glistening in the nearby lamplight. Its thin mane and the tuft at the end of its long, lashing tail were bright, fiery red, glowing like embers in the night. A leather jacket adorned with chains wrapped around its sleeves completed its menacing appearance.
Smudge's claws dug in tighter on Logan's back as he hissed a warning.
"That's Quickfang!" he yelped, his voice barely audible over the howling wind and roaring engine. "He's a high-rankin' member of the Shadow Paw Gang, Logan! Dinna let him catch us!"
Quickfang clenched one of the chains in his jaws with a snarl and pulled it free, turning it into a makeshift whip.
The chain lashed out, the metal links whistling through the air. Logan ducked, feeling the chain pass inches from his head. He drew the disruptor and fired a shot.
A semitransparent burst of energy shot out from the barrel, striking Quickfang on the side and making him stagger.
Logan revved the engine and shot forward. As they passed, Quickfang recovered and swung the chain again. This time, before it could connect, Smudge whipped his hat off and used it to parry the blow.
Quickfang let out a howl and gave chase, the chain still clutched firmly in his jaws.
Logan fired a shot over his shoulder, the energy bolt sizzling through the air. Quickfang dodged it this time, the bolt just grazing his flank, eyes narrowing as he redoubled his pursuit.
The chase continued into the heart of the district, the motorcycle's engine screaming as Logan pushed it to its limits. Quickfang was relentless, his powerful legs propelling him forward with terrifying speed. Donning his hat again, Smudge drew a small, wicked-looking knife from his coat and slashed at the beast whenever he came too close.
Cars seemed to come out of nowhere in the mists, horns honking as Logan sped past, weaving in and out of traffic.
Why is it, Logan wondered, that the streets always become more crowded whenever you're being chased?
However, no matter what he did, Quickfang always managed to keep pace. The beast seemed to be able to teleport between shadows, using this to get close several times as he launched his attacks.
"Doesn't he ever give up?" Logan asked, glaring at Quickfang, who was now running along the tops of the cars right next to them.
The beast's chain lashed out again, coming right for their heads.
"Na, he doesn't!" Smudge replied as they both ducked just in time, the chain slashing a streetlamp in half.
Logan gritted his teeth, steering the bike onto the sidewalk in a desperate attempt to escape. Pedestrians scattered, their curses lost in the roar of the engine. Quickfang leaped off the cars and soon kept pace right behind them.
"I don't know how long I can keep this up!" Logan yelped, throwing the throttle as far as it would go on his motorcycle.
"We just need tae get to Mr. Direman's estate!" Smudge shouted, deflecting another strike from the chain with his knife. "We'll be under his protection once we're in –"
They'd just shot out from around the corner of a building when a powerful engine roared, and bright headlights blinded them.
A bright red, open-roofed Cadillac screeched by, just missing them by inches. Its occupants, a pair of wolf-like creatures, whooped in excited voices as they brought the car around and began following them from the street.
In the brief moment he took to look back, Logan saw they were both wearing what looked like skull masks, pinpricks of light burning from within the darkened eye sockets.
"Oh, that's just perfect! It's the Flamemont brothers from the Ember Striders!" Smudge exclaimed, his voice dripping with chagrin. "Joey and Jasper, they're after the package too! Watch yerself, lad, they're –"
At that moment, Jasper, the larger of the two brothers, stood in the passenger seat. A fireball blazing to life in his hand, he threw it at them, the projectile hissing through the rain like a comet.
Logan swerved, the fireball just barely missing them and exploding against a storefront window, sending shards of glass everywhere.
"– hellhounds!" Smudge finished, holding tightly onto Logan's neck.
Quickfang reappeared right next to them as Logan swerved back onto the street and out into oncoming traffic. The beast's chain whip struck the pavement like a lightning crack before lashing out again. It slammed into a car that got in the way, creating a massive dent in its side.
The chase continued, with Logan and Smudge racing through the rain and weaving in and out of traffic while Quickfang and Flamemont's Cadillac pursued them. Attacks from the chain and fireballs left a trail of devastation behind them the further they went.
Logan fired the disruptor over his shoulder, aiming for Quickfang, who dodged out of the way. The energy bolt struck the side of the Cadillac, leaving a dent and chipping the red paint.
"Oi! Whatcha doin'!" the smaller of the Flamemonts, Joey, shouted at Logan from the driver's seat, his eyes blazing in his skull. "You're gonna pay for that, ya are!"
Once again, Logan had to swerve out of the way as a fireball disintegrated the road where he'd been. His path almost made him run straight into a massive truck, just narrowly avoiding becoming a pancake as the larger vehicle's horn blasted in their ears.
Behind them, Logan began to make out Quickfang and the Flamemont brothers shouting at each other.
"Wha' in bloody blazes are ye two doin' here?" Shouted a slightly muffled voice, Logan guessed it was Quickfang. "This is me target! Both of ye get lost before I make ye regret it!"
Joey's cackling laughter filled the air. "Oh, really? And I'd just luv ta see a mangy fleabag like yerself try! That relic belongs ta us, so don't get in our way, yeah?"
"They both sound so charming," Logan stated as more shouts, insults, and curses filled the air.
"We're almost at Mr. Direman's estate!" Smudge urged, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "Just a little further, Logan!"
The words had just barely left his mouth when one of the Flamemont brothers hurled a fireball at Quickfang, who deflected it with his chain. This sent the errant projectile into the air, exploding underneath an overpass.
Large chunks of road, metal, and other rubble rained down on the street below. Logan managed to swerve to avoid being crushed, but the shockwave sent him, Smudge, and the others flying.
The world spun by in a dizzying blur of color and pain. Logan hit the ground hard and rolled, his breath knocked from his lungs as he came to a stop against a wall. He lay there momentarily, dazed and disoriented, the rain pounding down on him like a thousand tiny anvils. He could hear the others, their voices distant and muffled as if coming from underwater.
He looked around, vision swimming before his eyes, as he heard a clattering sound.
It was the parcel that Smudge had been trying to protect. It rolled across the ground, its wrappings tearing away to reveal an ornate, black metal box.
Its lid swung open when it came to a stop, and out came a small, silvery object.
Logan squinted, his vision adjusting as the object came into focus—an old-looking signet ring made from tarnished silver. It lay on the ground a few feet away, and as he watched, it began to glow softly and lift off the ground.
There was a scrabbling sound as figures appeared out of the fog. Quickfang and the Flamemont brothers, battered but still alive, were making a mad dash for the ring, a hungry glint in their eyes.
Smudge, his hat missing, was stumbling to his feet, his face a mask of panic.
"Logan! Dinna let them get it!" he cried out, his voice hoarse with desperation.
His body still aching, Logan reached out for the ring.
Before he or any of the others could get it, the ring – moved by some unseen force – slipped onto Logan's finger. He gasped at the sensation of its metal burning like cold fire against his skin.
The glow from the ring grew stronger, sending a pulse through his hand like a second heartbeat, almost as though the ring were alive.
Energy surged through Logan's hand from the ring, sending a shockwave that sent them all flying again.
After another painful landing, Logan lay on the ground, barely able to move. He could feel himself starting to pass out, his body wracked with pain. Just before consciousness slipped away, he saw a large, black-hoofed foot stepping into his vision line.
He looked up, his gaze traveling up the goat-like legs, past the long, lashing tail ending in a spade, to the muscular upper body and the head adorned with long, curved horns. The being was a dark shade of black that seemed to absorb the light around it. No features could be seen on its face save for a pair of white eyes that gazed down at Logan with an intensity that seemed to burn through him.
The being reached out a hand, its fingers long and elegant, the nails sharp as talons.
It touched the ring on Logan's finger, and a jolt of energy passed between them. Logan could feel the being's presence in his mind, an ancient force that seemed to fill the very air around him.
And then, with a final surge of power, Logan's world went dark. The last thing he heard was the distant howling of the wind and the whispered words of the being that stood over him, its voice like the echo of a long-forgotten song.
'It appears as though we were too late,' it said, the words resonating through Logan's mind as he slipped into unconsciousness. 'It has already chosen.'
And then Logan slipped into unconsciousness, the darkness pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
*****When Logan came to, he found himself in a dimly lit room, the air filled with the scent of old books and polished wood. He was lying on a plush, red leather couch, a thick blanket draped over him.
His body still ached, but the pain was dull as if he had been given something to ease his discomfort.
Sitting up, Logan's eyes adjusted to the low light.
The room was a study, its walls lined with bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. A grand fireplace dominated one wall, its mantel adorned with strange artifacts and curiosities. The soft glow of streetlamps and neon signs illuminated the room from the darkened windows.
Logan's disruptor lay on a table next to the couch. He vaguely remembered it flying out of his grip during the crash. It seemed that whoever brought him here didn't mind if he was armed.
As he picked up and reholstered the disruptor, a soft click came from a nearby door before it was opened.
In stepped Smudge, his tail flicking nervously and holding a steaming cup of tea.
"Ye awake, lad," Smudge said, bringing the cup over to Logan. "How are ye feelin'?"
"Like I went ten rounds with an angry bulldozer," he muttered, accepting the tea when Smudge offered it. "What happened? Where are we?"
"We're at Mr. Direman's estate," Smudge explained as Logan took a long sip from the cup. "He brought ye here after... well, after what happened."
As Logan took a sip from the cup, he glanced at his hand and his eyes widened as he saw the ring still on his finger. The metal was cool to the touch, its surface etched with intricate symbols that seemed to shift and change in the light.
"The… ring," he said, looking up at Smudge. "What is it? And why does everyone want it so badly?"
The cat hesitated, his eyes flicking towards the door once more.
"I... I cannae say, Logan. It's not me place. But Mr. Direman will explain everything. He's waitin' to speak with ye once yer ready."
Logan nodded before he stood up and followed Smudge out of the door.
The two wandered the lavish hallways of Mr. Direman's estate for a few minutes, Logan's mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
On his finger, the ring felt heavy. Its presence was a constant reminder of the surreal turn his life had taken… more surreal than it already was, anyway. He couldn't escape the feeling that he was way over his head.
Well, it wasn't like he could turn back now.
Before long, they entered an office, an elegant and comfortable room illuminated by a few strategically placed lamps and a lit fireplace. Like the study, the walls here were lined with bookshelves filled with ancient-looking tomes.
As they entered, Logan was surprised to see Quickfang and the Flamemont brothers seated on a sofa across the room.
On one end, Quickfang glared out the nearby window at the rain, his tail twitching irritatedly. He glanced over as Logan and Smudge entered but merely shot them an angry stare before returning his gaze outside.
The brothers sat at the other end. Now that they were out of the car – and he wasn't about to pass out – Logan was able to get a good look at them. He'd heard all about hellhounds before but never saw one up close.
Their shaggy fur was a dark, ashen brown that was almost black. They had sharp claws on their hands and bare feet and long bushy tails that ended in light patches of fur. And their faces… Logan had thought they were wearing masks during the chase, but he could now see those were their real faces – exposed skulls with gleaming white bone.
Both wore similar outfits, including frayed jeans, dark rock band shirts, and vintage 70s jackets.
Joey sat slumped on the sofa, arms crossed like a petulant child as he glared at the floor. Next to him, Jasper – taking up much of the available room on the seat with his bulk – sat upright, holding onto his tail in both hands as he looked nervously at everyone.
And seated behind a desk sat the dark figure Logan saw earlier.
As they entered, a familiar voice spoke directly into their minds, resonating with an otherworldly timbre. 'Ah, Mr. Hartley, it is a pleasure to finally meet you properly. I am Mr. Direman. Please, take a seat.'
Logan sat in the leather armchair across from the desk, Smudge jumping up to stand on the armrest.
'Now then,' Mr. Direman said, 'I trust that Mr. Whittney has told you where you are?'
Logan was momentarily confused before realizing he must have been talking about Smudge. "Y-yeah, he said we're in your estate… we were coming here because he needed to deliver the parcel… and the ring…"
He looked down at the ring and tried to slide it off his finger, but it wouldn't budge. "This ring… it was supposed to go to you, right?"
Mr. Direman nodded, his white eyes unblinking. 'Indeed, it was supposed to. However, it would seem as though the ring had other plans, a possibility I should have foreseen. The ring has chosen you, Mr. Hartley.'
Hearing this, Logan froze in the action of trying to take the ring off and looked up. "What?"
'I can understand your confusion, let me explain.'
Mr. Direman waved a hand, and one of the tomes lifted from the shelves and flew over to the desk. The black entity picked it out of the air, opened it, and turned it to face Logan.
On it, among the ancient writing that he couldn't understand, he could clearly see several diagrams of a ring that looked very much like the one on his finger.
'Each world has an artifact of a similar nature, all going by different names: the Crown of Wisdom, the Ring of Seven Seals, and the Seal of Solomon, to name a few. They are artifacts of exceptional power, to such an extent that they form their own wills, deciding who can wield them. My intentions in bringing it here had been to keep it safe from anyone who would try and use it for nefarious intent.'
Mr. Direman sighed, closing the book and setting it down.
'Unfortunately, that's when… the incident occurred…'
He shot a glare over at the three on the sofa.
'… and as a result, the ring was brought into direct contact with you, and it decided that you were the right person it was looking for.'
The three did an excellent job of pretending they couldn't see Mr. Direman. Quickfang was still glaring out at the rain, Joey's gaze didn't leave the floor, and Jasper quickly looked over at the fireplace.
Still processing everything he was told, Logan looked back down at the ring. "So… what exactly is this supposed to do?"
The thought some having some kind of weapon stuck on his finger was less than ideal, and he wanted to know what he was getting himself into.
'There's no exact record on this particular artifact,' Mr. Direman replied, looking back at Logan. 'But if the pattern remains the same, then there's one ability I think we can safely confirm. The ring can forge connections with powerful beings, allowing the wearer to harness their abilities. It would seem as though, not long after choosing you, the ring also bound the ones who were trying to claim it to you.'
"Wha – ?" Logan's mind reeled. "Bonded?"
"Aye, it's all true, lad," Smudge spoke up, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder. "I dinnae ken how it works, but I can feel it – a connection, like a thread running between us."
Logan looked from Smudge to the trio on the sofa, an incredulous look on his face. "You mean… I'm connected to them?"
Mr. Direman nodded. 'You are. You can now call upon their power whenever you see fit to do so.'
A snort came from the couch as Quickfang turned, his eyes flashing as he glared at Logan.
"I ain't buyin' it," he snarled. "No measly trinket or weak human could ever hold that kind o' power over me."
In a split second, he lunged off the sofa, claws and fangs bared as he shot at Logan. The human started to jump back while Smudge brought his knife back out, ready to defend him.
However, just before he could reach them, the ring flashed.
Quickfang froze in the air, his face startled, before being dropped to the floor, where he landed in a heap.
Mr. Direman chuckled, the sound echoing in their minds.
'One bound by the ring's power cannot harm its wearer. Do you require any more proof?'
Muttering darkly, Quickfang got back to his feet before stalking back over to his place on the sofa. Once up, he glared at Logan, his tail twitching in irritation.
'Given the circumstances,' Mr. Direman continued, 'I have already made arrangements with the Shadow Paws and Ember Striders. Quickfang, Joey, and Jasper will be transferring over to my group for the time being.'
Both Quickfang and the smaller Flamemont brother immediately started at that, clearly outraged.
"You can't do that!" Joey exclaimed, his eyes blazing. "You ain't got the authority to just take us like that, mate!"
"Yeah!" Quickfang agreed, "I ain't working for no –"
Mr. Direman silenced them both with a glare. 'This isn't a matter of debate. And given the amount of damage you all caused to my district on the way here, I'd say that's the least you owe me. Both your leaders are in agreement on this.'
Quickfang turned to stare back out the window, his expression sullen. Joey recrossed his arms and sulked, his brother patting him on the head.
Logan watched all this with a growing sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.
Turning his attention back to the human, Mr. Diremon said, 'On a similar note, I would like to offer you a job, Mr. Hartley. You may continue running your record shop as you like, but you would also work as a factotum for me.'
"What would you expect me to do?" Logan asked cautiously.
'Nothing of a dubious nature, I can assure you. The duties will vary from general handyman tasks to helping facilitate deals between the various gangs and districts in the city.'
Mr. Direman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and his chin on his hands. 'In addition, you will receive protection. Once word gets out that you're in possession of the most powerful artifact in the city, there's no telling who or what will try to get their hands on it.'
Logan hesitated, considering the offer.
Business at the shop hadn't exactly been great as of late, and the thought of other gangs and people coming after him was far from appealing.
After a moment, he nodded. "Alright, I'm in."
Mr. Direman inclined his head in a gesture of approval. 'Excellent. Then everything is settled.'
He turned to the trio on the sofa, his voice taking on a dismissive tone. 'You three may leave now. Smudge will show you to your quarters.'
Quickfang was the first to leave, hopping down from the sofa and prowling over to the door. The pantherine creature's tail lashed and thwacked Logan across the face when he passed. The action was more surprising than painful, but the message was clear.
Joey stomped by, glaring at Logan, while Jasper followed quietly, giving a nervous smile as he passed.
As the door closed behind them, a sudden thought hit Logan.
"Mr. Direman," he began, hesitating slightly, "Back before I blacked out… you touched the ring, and it reacted to you."
The dark creature regarded him with a steady, emotionless gaze. 'I did, Mr. Hartley. And as you've doubtlessly guessed, I am also now bound to the ring.'
Logan's eyes widened, a sense of full realization and fear washing over him.
"But... doesn't that mean I could also control you too?"
Mr. Direman's eyes narrowed, and Logan could feel the dark creature's displeasure like a physical force.
'It would take a great deal to control me, Mr. Hartley,' he said, his voice resonating in Logan's mind. 'And I would advise you not to attempt it. For the time being, our relationship should remain one of mutual respect and cooperation.'
Logan nodded, catching onto the unspoken warning in Mr. Direman's words. "Understood."
Mr. Direman stood, his towering form casting a long shadow over the desk. 'You should return to your shop now, Mr. Hartley. Tomorrow will be a busy day, and you'll need rest. Mr. Whittney will see you out and accompany you.'
As if on cue, Smudge reappeared and beckoned for Logan to follow him.
Logan rose from the chair, his body aching from the day's events. He followed Smudge out of the office and down through the estate, eventually bringing him to a massive garage.
It was filled with cars, not only ones that matched the 1940s aesthetic outside but also ones from other districts.
Down at the far end, Logan's motorcycle was parked, looking as good as new. He ran a hand over the repaired body, marveling at the workmanship.
"Mr. Direman had it fixed up while ye were out," Smudge explained, hopping up onto the seat. "He has connections and kens the right folk tae call."
"Sounds useful," Logan chuckled, swinging a leg over the bike.
The engine purred to life beneath him, sounding as good as it looked.
Logan revved the engine and sped out of the garage and back into the rain-soaked streets of the Blackstone District.
*****The journey back to the shop was uneventful; the streets were slick with rain, and the fog was as thick as ever. All the while, Logan's mind was racing with thoughts of what lay before him… more than just the familiar streets of Nebulopolis.
With the ring on his finger and his new associates, he could tell his future would become much more interesting. The city around him had already been a place of mists and echoes, a place where dangers and opportunities could lurk around any corner.
And now, every dark corner seemed to be hiding some new threat.
As they pulled up outside Echoes of Analog, Logan inwardly sighed in relief. They had made it without incident.
"I have an apartment up on the second level," he said as they stepped into the shop, the familiar sent of vinyl and dust welcoming him home.
Logan guided Smudge up the stairs behind the counter. They led to a short hallway that connected a bathroom, supply and linen closet, and the bedroom—a medium-sized room that also doubled as a lounge, with a couch and television along with the bed.
"It's not much," Logan said, looking around, "but it's been my home for the last few years."
Smudge hopped up onto the couch, checking it over and feeling the cushions. It was older than dirt, and its brown leather was worn from years of use, but the cat seemed to find it comfortable enough.
"This is pure perfect, I dinnae need much tae be comfortable," he said before he yawned. "Now, if ye dinnae mind, I'm gonna tak' a wee catnap."
Taking his coat and hat off with a flourish, Smudge curled up on the cushion and fell asleep in seconds. The cat snored softly, his little chest rising and falling with each breath.
"You do that," Logan said with a soft chuckle.
Glancing over at the clock, he was surprised to see that it was early in the morning, just before what should have been dawn.
"Well, it's not like I was going to be able to fall asleep anyway," he sighed before turning to go back downstairs. "Might as well get started for the day."
Logan proceeded downstairs in preparation for opening. With a final glance at the ring, he wondered just what sort of adventures lay before him and just when Mr. Direman would have need of his services.
This preview went on longer than I thought it would, so what we're looking at here will probably end up being two chapters once I get around to it ^^;
What we have here is an urban fantasy mixed with science fiction. A major source of setting inspiration was the manga/anime Blood Blockade Battlefront.
There's a couple different character references in it - a couple of playable characters from Final Fantasy VII, a furry persona, and a villain from Zenescope's Grimm Fairy Tales comics... all subject to change as the series progresses in development, of course XD
For those wonder, here's the tune I imagined Logan playing in the shop, before Smudge shows up: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=td3P1-cfZ4E
Read and Enjoy ^_^
~ Aaron
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 138.2 kB
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