Tilted_Axis
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Chapter 61: The Helping Hands
🕑 Added 2021-02-26 11:00:07 +0000 UTCThe ride known as an “RV” is rectangular and looks to be at least ten feet tall and forty feet long. It is totally black with hardly any discernible markings, and most interesting to me is that it seems to have a metal house door on the side.
‘This RV seems as if it barely fits on this street.’
The door on the side of the RV clicks and creaks open. Out steps a familiar man carrying a canvas bag with his long red hair and tattoos on his neck. Though he wears a shirt with long sleeves for once, it still seems as if it shall rip around his muscular arms at any moment. This man is of course, Lorcan, the man I cannot seem to stop running into. Seeing me, he squints; his footsteps beat against the ground as he approaches. He stops less than a few feet away. His figure covers everything in front of me and his shadow shades the entirety of my body. Straightening his arm, he holds the bag out and then drops it.
It thumps the ground with an echo. “Goddamn!” he shouts. “You know how hard you are to find!? I nearly froze my ass off walking around looking for you with the pipsqueaks. Y’know, when I saw you were with a monkey, I thought you’d be easy to find. I mean, “how thoroughly could you really hide a monkey,” I remember thinking—apparently pretty damn thoroughly! Man, shoulda tackled your ass before you ran away, woulda saved me days worth of time.”
“Lorcan,” Terra’s voice states flatly. Lorcan’s eyes widen as she continues, “After this is over, I’d like to speak to you in private; I want to understand how you utterly failed a task that took me under an hour. After that, we’ll discuss whether or not you’re completely worthless to me.” Her shoes tap against the hard stone road as she adds, “Now stop wasting our time and drive us to the pick-up locations.”
When she steps through the door, disappearing within, Lorcan exhales a long breath. “Well, my bad, Fairy,” he says with a small click of his tongue. Lifting the bag, he marches toward the RV. “I guess I’ll place your bag where we’ll have our lessons later.”
‘Wow. Terra is very crisp. Perhaps I should try being more assertive as well...’ Adjusting my posture to force myself to stand perfectly upright, I confidently glance back and forth before following behind and entering the RV. Once I move up a few stairs, I freeze, finding myself greeted by what could be mistaken as a room in a palace.
White marble floors shine, reflecting my image back at me, wooden cabinets that must have been made by the finest craftsman run along an area that seems to be some type of kitchen. Past the kitchen, furniture of pure white runs in a ring centered around a circular table. Above me, the ceiling is painted white and radiates intense light downwards, causing everything to sparkle.
My confident and perfect posture disappears as I shake my head. ‘...The fever dream never ends. Is this what it’s like to be wealthy in this era?’
Stepping toward a marble table, Lorcan places the canvas bag atop it. He pulls the zipper and removes three objects from it, holding them where I can see. Pointing at each one, he says, “Whiteboard, marker, eraser, use the marker to write on the whiteboard.” He undoes the top of the marker and marks it on the board creating black streaks. Holding up the eraser, he swipes it across the board; miraculously, it removes the black writing as if it was never there. “And obviously, you erase with the eraser. It’s yours to have.”
‘What; It cannot be!’ Before he can change his mind, I rip the board and marker from his hands. ‘Magic; this is what magic can do; endless pens and now erasable writing! Why would people use lap-tops when there are much more wondrous things like this!’
Shaking his head, Lorcan chuckles, “Damn. Don’t look so excited cause it’s kinda depressing to see someone so happy about something I bought without even thinking about it. I mean, shit, it was like ninety-nine cents at the dollar store.”
I write on what I believe is called a ‘whiteboard,’ “It is greatly appreciated!” Written in my perfected handwriting, I turn the whiteboard for him to read.
Staring at the board, he raises an eyebrow, “Did you write the Declaration of Independence too? That’s some seriously exaggerated writing, even for cursive.”
‘Exaggerated!’
Yanking the board away, I write, “Thou hast simply never seen a true penman then!” [1]
“Thou hast? Now you’re just fuckin’ with me!” He laughs aloud and smacks me on the back. “Maybe, we’ll get along after all.”
‘Why did he strike me!’
Noticing the back of the suit’s change in shape from his strike, he pulls his hand away. “Oops, sorry. Probably shouldn’t do that. Boss would be pissed if they knew I was being so rough with you.”
On my whiteboard, I write, “Strike me again and I shall strike back!”
Laughing again, he pats my shoulder this time. “It was just a pat on the back, so I mean, you can pat me on the back too; I don’t really mind.” Hearing a sound from further back in the RV, Lorcan seems to remember something. “Oh, yeah, you’re actually the second person we picked up, but we aren’t sharing real names, so...”
While he thinks, I turn to inspect the person who arrived early. A young man with short light brown hair and dark brown eyes shuffles through a doorway from further back in the RV. His eyes glance at Lorcan and me before he quickly hurries to take a seat upon the white couches. He wears a purple button-up shirt and beige trousers; I believe his dress is meant to be a bit more formal than average attire.
Though he does not have his helmet, I believe I recognize him. ‘Why are they here? I guess I should confirm it is him.’ Writing on my board, I turn it toward the person, “Daniel?”
Wiping his brow, he appears rather nervous and sweaty. His mouth opens mid-way as words seemingly fail to escape his mouth.
“You know him?” Lorcan asks. “Does he have any nicknames or anything like that?”
“Nickname?” Daniel murmurs, “I-I get a nickname?”
I erase the board, and with a bit of hesitation, I write, “Shrieking man.”
“Shrieking man, that’s, uh, really weird; not a good nickname either. It might work if we shorten it...” Lorcan snaps his fingers together and points between Daniel and I. “Alright, your nickname will be Shriek—Shriek meet Fairy. She’s mute, so don’t expect her to respond without her whiteboard. Oh, and the boss said not to ask about her outfit. ‘She can wear whatever she wants and if you have a problem with that, then speak to me’ is what they told me.”
‘Shriek? A bit crude, but I already know a Preacher Daniels and I have been calling him ‘shrieking man’ so… aye, I believe I shall use that name for him henceforth.’
Shriek lifts his hands and opens his mouth as if he is about to say something, but his shoulders droop and he stares toward the ground.
With a shrug, Lorcan gestures toward the couches. “Take a seat over there. You and Shriek can talk about whatever you feel like, except for why you’re both here. We’ve got a few more stops before the meeting, but I gotta go drive this gold tank around.” Turning toward the front of the RV, he walks away. “Probably a line of cars behind us, and honestly, I’m not even sure how I’m going to make some of these turns in this monster,” he says, retreating behind a curtain.
I glance toward Shriek and then move to the couch opposite him hugging my whiteboard. The sticky exterior of the arc suit grates against the couch’s leather surface, producing a shrill squeaking sound as I sink down the back of the couch.
‘He is probably jealous that I received a whiteboard and he did not.’ Writing on my glorious whiteboard, I turn it toward him. “If thou wishes to touch the whiteboard, I will consider it.”
“Uhm, n-no, thanks. I appreciate it, but you can keep it.”
Several minutes pass in silence while I entertain myself by drawing maps of potential Tower interiors on my whiteboard. Yet, I keep noticing Shriek glancing at me every so often. Finally, I erase my whiteboard sketches and write, “I do not appreciate thou watching me.”
“S-sorry… but is it okay if I ask you a question?” he asks, rubbing the back of his head.
“Mayhaps, what is thy question?”
“‘M-mayhaps,’ never heard that outside of light novels or movies before.” Smiling rigidly, he asks, “How do you know me? Why did you call me ‘shrieking man?’”
‘I believe I should not answer that.’
Erasing the whiteboard, I then write, “I do not have a reason.”
“Don’t have a reason, but you knew my name. Are...” He scans the area and leans forward, pointing at his eyes, “Are you her, the girl with the glowing violet eyes? I’ve been looking for her.”
I wince. ‘That.. that could be anyone!’ Scribbling on my whiteboard, I keep it curt, “I am not.”
“But… The other two guys from that day told me what you looked like and I can sorta see your eyes. I… I just wanna know why me? Why did you choose me?”
“Choose thou?” I write.
“Why did you give me these powers? I have to know,” he says, holding his breath.
‘Powers... does he mean being awoken to the Beta? That was just by chance.’ I peer into his eyes, realizing he will cling to whatever I write. ‘I should keep it short and not too specific. He can work it out in his mind however he wishes.’
Keeping it brief, I write, “Perhaps fate?”
‘There, now he can attribute it to whomever or whatever he wishes.’
As he reads the two words, his eyes widen. “I knew it,” he murmurs. “I was chosen.”
‘That may have been a mistake. I should be a tad more blunt.’
Before I may expand upon my words, the RV abruptly lurches forward, coming to a quick stop. Several items rattle and Shriek tumbles to the floor as I brace myself.
“My bad!” I hear Lorcan yell from behind the curtain. “We got two more gettin’ on. Remember not to discuss why you’re here!”
Shriek stumbles to his feet as the door to the RV swings open once more. Two sets of footsteps reverberate as they march up the stairs. As soon as I see the people, I shake my head; I cannot understand why these two would both be here as well. Even though today they wear winter jackets, hats, trousers, and footwear instead of their noble’s guard’s uniform, I still recognize the pair instantly as Jessica and Leo.
‘Like Lorcan, I cannot escape them either. Is everyone I have crossed paths with going to be here?’
“Sup. I-I’m...” Jessica’s words falter as soon as her eyes land upon my figure. “I’m…”
“What’s wrong with you?” Leo asks. Shaking his head, he points between Jessica and himself with a sigh, “She’s Red Angel and I’m Crimson Savior.”
Jessica’s face becomes red as she gawks at me in the arc suit with a look of horror.
Tilting my head, I write, “What inspired those names?”
Leo raises an eyebrow seeing my message.
“She’s mute,” Shriek says. “And her handwriting is just amazing like that.”
‘My handwriting is quite amazing! Shriek seems like he might be a good person.’
“I guess that makes sense, save for the fact, I was referring to the huge welding suit they’re wearing. That’s the most heavy-duty suit I’ve ever seen. You could weld on the surface of the sun in that thing,” Leo says, gesturing toward me.
Shriek glances at me and then nods. “Yeah, we aren’t supposed to ask about that.”
“Fine, it doesn’t really matter. The names were Red Angel’s idea. She insisted on them and I didn’t really care, either way, so we just went with it.”
Jessica’s face switches from red to a burning crimson.
“Goddamn, shut the damn door!” Lorcan shouts from the front of the RV.
“Shit, my bad!” Leo spins around and slams the door closed. He gently shoves Jessica to get her to move. “Take a seat, Red Angel.”
Smiling awkwardly at Leo, she nods. “Y-yeah, gotcha…” With small hurried steps, she takes a seat next to me.
Leo sits next to Shriek, with a visible expression of confusion.
Things go quiet, but ultimately, Jessica cannot contain herself. Stealing my marker, she writes on my whiteboard, “What are you doing here!!! Why are you so calm??”
‘Calm; I am just pretending!’ Afraid she might steal it, I take my marker back. ‘The real question is why art thou here. I suppose I cannot ask that, though.’
Peering into Jessica’s eyes, I check for any remaining effects of the vermillion haze from our previous encounter. Not seeing anything noteworthy, I write, “Should I not be here?”
Again she tears my marker away, scribbling, “NO! Just keep calm! I’ll help you find an opportunity to run!”
Squinting, I retrieve my marker and respond, “Nay, I shall be fine,” just as the RV comes to a halt and the door squeaks open once again.
This time two men with dark, untidy black hair and then a woman with pink hair enters. They all appear to be covered in tattoos and piercings, and wear black leather with silver spikes around the shoulders. Yet my eyes are drawn to the fact that each of them bears a mask that fits around their eyes as if they are about to attend a masquerade. At the front, a man wears an owl mask, the second man wears a wolf, and then the woman in the back wears a rabbit. Their eyes at first look fatigued and dull, as if this is just another day; however, a trace of curiosity can be seen in the way their eyes dart about.
From behind the three, a maskless woman steps up the stairs and squeezes in between them. She wears a long red coat, a pair of black boots with heels, flashy earrings, big bands of jewelry around her wrists, and finally, hair pulled back with a sparkling red band. Without a word, she drops onto the couch next to Jessica and crosses her arms and legs.
Lorcan re-enters through the curtain he left through previously. “You’re the ‘Helping Hands,’ right?” he says to the people in the animal masks.
All three of them hold up an amulet around their necks that resembles a circle of twelve hands, each gripping another’s wrists. In the center of this amulet, a cube of stone is suspended by a thin nearly transparent bar.
Lowering their amulets, Lorcan raises an eyebrow and asks, “I guess that’s supposed to mean yes?”
The man in the owl mask nods while examining the floor around him before pointing between his companions. “Owl, Wolf, Rabbit, we were told this would be a rush job, but I don’t see any corpses. Is this not a typical rush job?” Owl asks as he continues studying the floor; eventually, his eyes look toward Shriek. “We don’t operate on living people... or is the job the RV? If it’s the RV, we can attach temporary material to it that will make it resemble an ordinary school bus; if you give us two days, one if you pay extra.”
“I guess this’ll be a different kind of job than you’re used to,” Lorcan says, pulling a polished ivory door handle—a small closet swings open, revealing a tall and rectangular object made of gold with black engravings. “If you’re carryin’, drop your sidearms in the safe here until the boss says it’s okay to take back your firearms. If it’s too big for the safe, just give it to me and I’ll put it upfront.”
‘That is a safe and there are firearms that are too big for that? It’s five feet tall at least...!’
Each of them removes a pistol. Rabbit’s pistol is orange, covered with images of carrots, and oddest of all, it has a pair of rabbit ears near the back. Wolf’s is gray with a wolf head on the barrel so it would appear as if the pellet exits its jaws. Then Owl’s is longer, pitch black, with a cylinder fastened to the front and a lever or tricker that resembles a talon.
They hand their pistols to Lorcan, who places them in the safe. ‘They all had one! Was it rude of me to not bring my own pistol; is it customary for a rich person to bring their pistols to these types of meetings? Would they mock me for having what must be a commoner’s pistol...?’
Opening a second closet, he removes three masks that go over their mouths, three pairs of gloves, and three thin white outfits. He gives them to Rabbit in the back. Pulling out a folded note, he points at me, hands the letter to Owl in front, and then disappears behind the curtain once again.
Owl glances at me before unfolding the letter. Gazing at the letter, his eyes move through the words, a smirk spreads across his face.
“This will be a fun one.” He turns toward the other three. “She’s mute, so she can’t respond. No questions, put the gas masks on, don’t pierce or attempt to remove the suit.” He steps toward me, extending his hand; he says in a soft voice, “Take my hand, doll, there’s another room in the back for us.”
‘Doll…?’
I study Owl’s face. Owl is young with a skinny face; he has a single ruby earring, a lip ring, and a double nose ring on the right side of his nostril. Above his right eye is what resembles a unicorn with a date written beneath it.
‘Terra, this... what is this.’ I reach out and take Owl’s hand. He pulls me up, places his hand somewhere on the arc suit’s back, and guides me toward a tiny room in the back. When we enter, I find a small cabin with a single chair surrounded by the clearest, cleanest mirrors I have ever seen on all sides.
“Take a seat!” With a few small shoves, I find myself dropping into the chair.
The three begin to put on the attire Lorcan gave them. While they do this, I stare at myself in the mirrors. It’s tempting to take off the arc suit as I have never been able to get a great look at myself before. Scrutinizing my appearance, all I see is a wrinkly blue suit with a dark window and two dim violet orbs that glow from within.
‘I resemble a woman dressed in a huge blue bag with a window. Not the most charming appearance ever.’
Owl pats me on the head. “Don’t worry, doll, we’ll make you look stunning in your suit; now let’s get started!”
They spin the chair in circles, all three of their eyes scrutinizing me and the arc suit. I grip the chair, afraid I might be spun out of it. ‘What is happening; is this meant to be happening?!’
“Hmmm.” Wolf nods, declaring, “The material is unusual, not stuff you can usually get on the street, not without dropping some serious cash anyway.”
“Money isn’t a concern,” Owl says, removing a marker and drawing on my suit.
“Good to know.” Rabbit pulls the excess material at the back of the arc suit, squeezing the front around my chest. While they do this, the arc suit will at times form odd craters since my body is not solid. Whenever this happens, they totally ignore it, despite knowing they saw it. “Damn,” Rabbit states with a vulgar giggle. “I’m not exaggerating when I say she has the best curves I’ve ever seen, but you can’t even see them through this big blue monstrosity.”
I write on my whiteboard, “Is this really necessary!?”
“It is, doll. The note said we can make it tight as we deem required to make it feel like it’s a second skin. Then we’ll add fabric.” Owl straightens my head while the Rabbit and Wolf begin using some type of clip to bind the arc suit back, making it hug my body as tight as the haze allows. “I think we’ll need to find a way to harden the material as well, so it won’t warp so easily.”
“Will that make it stronger?” I ask with my whiteboard.
Rubbing the material, Owl responds, “Well, it wouldn’t deflect a bullet or anything and the joints would still be relaxed. We’ll just have to see how it comes out.”
“Ugh,” Wolf scoffs with obvious exaggeration. “This helmet is a problem. It’s just plain hideous and gigantic. We’ll need to find a way to reduce it and reshape it into something more appealing. Can probably pull or render it around a different headpiece. I might be able to use a kiln to do it if the material isn’t prone to melting. Ah, we can stiffen it with some metal sheets then too!”
‘Kiln!?’ My gaze shoots back and forth. I realize by their lack of concern that they must be referring to an ordinary kiln. ‘Aye. Certainly, they would not speak so openly about an actual Kiln… surely.’
I lose access to my whiteboard when Rabbit moves too close for me to see to write on it. Staring into the helmet’s window, Rabbit taps on it. “We have a theme? What’re the requirements?”
Owl nods. “Mysterious, stained glass, fairy, tower, knight, attractive, compelling, were the keywords the client gave us to work with. The requirements include that it’s airtight, breathability and oxygen supply aren’t concerns, and that it’s as light as possible without the risk of splitting.”
“Absolutely gorgeous,” Rabbit states, stroking the outside of the window, peering into my eyes from the other side of the helmet. I lean my face away from the window as she adds, “We could make it look like one of those, what’re they called, bucket helmets?”
“Oh, yeah.” Wolf snaps his fingers together. “I’ve seen those before; It’s perfect! We should call the shop and tell them to start baking molds.”
Rabbit and Wolf finish clipping the excess suit behind my back. The arc suit now embraces my figure as tight as the material allows. ‘Nay! This is simply too much.’ I shake my head, but the arc suit helmet does not allow them to see and I doubt they would care.
Rabbit moves back to my front again, staring into the window. “Ah, I know! We could replace the face shield with glass!” Grasping the suit, she nods her head. “But we’re going to have to dye the suit a different color first. No way we can leave it this repulsive blue. We could cover it too. When you call the shop, let them know to start assembling silks and textiles, we’ll cover some of this ugly suit so it doesn’t look so rubbery.”
“Take some of her measurements and start making the calls. This is an urgent rush job. Pay what we have to, do what we have to; we’ve been given twenty-four hours to get it together.”
He removes paper and writing utensils. Putting them to paper, he starts to scratch something down as the three continue to chat about my ‘figure’ and the arc suit. If it were possible to die from embarrassment, I believe I would.
Time passes until Shriek finally comes to retrieve me. “F-Fairy, Owl, everyone is here except for you two.”
They begin removing the clips from the arc suit. “We’ll be there in just a moment,” Owl answers.
When the last clip is removed, I shoot up from the chair and hurriedly leave the room. ‘Good lord, get me out of here!’
With a chuckle, Owl follows me. “Right behind you, Fairy.”
Shaking my head, I return to the room with the white couches, discovering ten people inhabiting the area.
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[1] Penman: one who writes a good hand, one skilled in penmanship.
