“ONLY TWENTY KILLS? THAT’S FUCKIN PATHETIC.”
The noises in the tavern came to a standstill, as consorts of varied heritages turned to face the commotion. The yelling seemed to be coming from a glowing white equestrian of sorts, who was in the middle of berating the greyskin sitting across from him. His gills bobbed up and down as he pleaded to the creature to shut the fuck up, they were in a glubbin restaurant. Both of them babbled at each other for another moment, before noticing the intent silence of the other patrons. They whirled around to face the spectators; the sprite neighing fiercely, the greyskin brandishing a familiar blue armament. A moment, and then the consorts were back to their conversations in fear of their lives.
“See I TOLD you they we’re fuckin listenin in,” Eridan growled across the table, reequipping the crosshairs into his sylladex with a jolt. He poured himself another mug of faygo, his eyes never leaving the sprite before him. Between Feferi’s attempts to place equipment in his tilted hive, the approach of many a flaming meteor and the subsequent blaze that engulfed half of his home, the death of his lusus had probably jarred him the most on that dark night. After he and his frantic server client had doused the flames he had found the charred corpse in the wreckage; it had taken ten minutes of bawling (ten more and he would have been a purple smudge on the map) before Feferi got through to him that he could just prototype with the body. He had spent many hours now regretting that prospect.
“YOU THINK I CARE WHAT THESE LITTLE WIMPS THINK, SON?” it demanded at him, smacking its tail with fervor across the tabletop. It snorted at the mug of faygo Eri had poured for it, and tossed it across the room. It smacked a wayfaring turtle on the head (who in turn skidded into numerous tables), but the seahorse paid no attention. It leaned in to face a timid Eridan, eyes ablaze. “I WANT THAT NUMBER TO GO UP, UNDERSTAND?” it commanded, shaking its muzzle, “I EXPECT NO LESS FROM MY SON. YOU THINK YOUR GOIN ANYWHERE WITH THAT KIND OF PANSY RECORD?” Eridan went from a timid lip bite to a full out grimace. “Dad I’m glubbin tryin all right?” he whined frightfully, his eyes careful not to leave his lusus’s gaze. This healthy relationship had started shortly after he’d first entered the medium; although the voice that had been granted to his longtime guardian was at first pretty damn funny, it had gone from informative and amusing to downright abusive. It no longer bothered with facts about the Land of Wrath and Angels and how to progress through his first gate (he had never cared about those in the first place); those old habits had quickly been replaced by a pressing interest in his son’s daily death toll. And, to Eri’s great despair, his shortage of romantic activity.
“TRYING AIN’T GLUBBIN CUTTIN IT SON” whinnied the angry lusus. It looked to its left and right, glancing at the nervous consorts with disdain, before whipping its tail around Eridan’s neck. “COME WITH ME” it commanded as it pulled the choked fish boy out the store. Eri tried his hardest to pry the appendage off his gills between gasps, but to no avail. His shoes dragged on cobblestones as his lusus dragged him out onto the street. They were in the market section of town, one of the many bordering the capital city of the land. Consorts made way for the spectacle as Eri was dragged towards the center of the plaza. None of them were interested in attacking the infamous troll; the removal of his cape had become a common safety precaution when he was navigating the streets of LOWAA. The lusus came to a stop at the great fountain centerpiece, standing tall amongst the miniature animals. It glanced at Eridan and gave a disappointed snort before tossing his loving son into the water.
A series of frantic splashes shot out of the fountain at breakneck speed, as the seatroll made a sad attempt to break the surface. As a group of consorts gathered around to watch the soap opera unfold, Eridan finally leaped out of the water like a spastic dolphin. He draped himself over the masonry and spat out water as his seahorse father hovered closer. “Dad what the FUCK was that,” he barked at the incoming seahorse, “you know I fuckin hate water you asshole. Humiliatin me in front of everyone, real fuckin nice!” He was about to continue when the lusus suddenly snorted, a sign for Eridan to shut his trap. “HOW ELSE IS A DAD GONNA TRAIN HIS SON TO BE A MAN?” it roared at him, yanking him out of the drink. Eri got to his feet, angrily wringing out his scarf as water pattered onto the ground. The two of them glared at the gathered crowd who fled for their lives before they turned to face each other once again.
“Dad look I don’t fuckin care about your shitty input,” he snarled, pointing a dripping finger at the lusus, “and I DON’T want you fuckin tellin me what to do. Its hard enough havin to play this game. Its hard enough havin to deal with these fuckin angels.” He gestured wildly at the town around them, its imposing architecture towering impossibly above the two of them. “Look at this shit!” he yelled, stomping a foot onto the pavement, “I got stuck with the hardest fuckin land in the game, okay dad? Is that good enough for you?” He opened his mouth to continue the tirade but he was smacked across the face by a glowing white tail. “NO ITS GLUBBIN NOT!” the seahorse roared back, “NO SON OF MINE WILL WALK AROUND WITH NO HONOR UNDER HIS BELT, UNDERSTOOD?” He pointed into the sky, where winged shapes could vaguely be seen across the blinding white sky. “I WANT THOSE WINGED ASSHOLES HITTING THE GROUND,” he continued (thankfully out of earshot of said winged assholes), “AND DO YOU KNOW WHY?” Eridan held a hand to his head in frustration. “Because ho-” he started before a quick interruption- “BECAUSE HONOR GETS BITCHES, SON.” The seahorse clicked its teeth tactly; “BITCHES LOVE HONOR, SON. AND WHALES. BITCHES LOVE WHALES.”
Eri let out an audible moan. He walked out of range of the fountain (his lusus trailing behind), rubbing his temples. “Dad look im tryin to get on the fuckin advancements I swear,” he complained, “but its kind of hard to get any action with the whole evil planet endin game thing okay?” He flipped behind him, confronting the sprite. “Those feathery fucks are gonna hit the fuckin floor,” he snarled, “and I’m gonna get some pails filled just you fuckin watch. I’m not your little wiggler anymore so don’t treat me like one, got it?” He extended a ringed middle finger. “Fuck off, dad ,” he commanded in turn “and watch me work my fuckin magic.” He stalked off furiously towards the cathedral at the edge of the square, his lusus watching intently as he tied on his cape with dark intent. He passed through the entrance with determined speed, punting a chicken across the grounds, and then he was gone.
As bright blue began to fill the sky, and the ancient tower began to topple to the ground, the seahorse wiped away a tear of pride.
“What in cods sake do you mean you’re fuckin closed?”
Across the counter the two consorts glanced at each other, dim eyes blinking. “Didn’t you read the sign?” one of them squawked while flapping a wing at the doorway, “We’re only open 23 hours a day!” Eridan’s hands were to his temples. He slightly recalled a scratched piece of timber that looked like a tally sheet tacked against the entrance, ripe for ignoring. “Pardon me for not understandin’ your shitty bird language,” he snapped ,“but you’re really tellin me you’re goin to deny such royalty the services he deserves? That’s just wrong.” The consorts looked at each other again. He could almost watch the link of stupidity that crossed them as they stared dully into each other’s eyes. They then opened their beaks and chorused a stream of “GET OUT”s as they hopped and bounced on the counter, causing the high blood to take a step back in surprise.
The birds crowed moronically as he gritted his fangs. He was sorely tempted to whip out the Crosshairs, and relished the idea of vaporizing the pair of them for a few moments. He then remembered the reason he traversed all the way to this derelict shop in the first place, and forced himself to push the dreams of death out of his mind. “Wait wait wait, will you shut the fuck up for a second?” he barked at the pair. They complied. Eridan strolled back over and slapped his hands onto the counter, forcing the consorts to hop backwards. “What if I just made you two some offers you couldn’t refuse?” he said, clapping his hands together and smiling as kindly as he could manage. It looked more like he had severe stomach pain, but the consorts seemed to buy it. He dug around in his pocket and procured a gold key ring. Grumbling he procured the one he needed to access his Chest Modus , and with a twist of his fingers a treasure chest materialized out of the air. It fell onto the floor with a thud; the birds hopped the counter and fluttered to the floor to take a gander. Eri leaned against the wall as the two danced around it, chattering to themselves.
The irony of it all amused him: he needed a key to open a chest he just retrieved from a chest. Of course his modus had always been a pain in the ass throughout the years (leaving your keys on the table could mean certain death on Alternia), and it was one of the few things he had adopted from the stories of his old pathetic ancestor. Dualscar’s obsession with treasure had hooked him on the shit in the first place, and he had to admit that leaving treasure chests all over your hive made you look nautical as fuck. He cursed himself for even thinking about the ancient old fuckup. Eri tried to forget about Dualscar these days. He eased his mind back to the treasure. This particular chest he had picked up in the Land of Brains and Fire, where it had dropped from an especially rare spawn of imp hybrid. He only knew this because he had pestered Karkat right after he found it, finally connecting to him on the nineteenth try. He told him that some “drops” had to first be opened through means of a key, which could be found in hidden places throughout the numerous lands. Eri told him he had no time for adventurin and all that wiggler bullshit. Karkat replied that if he wanted to be a huge pussy he could just go buy a key with his spare boondollars. Eri told him that was pretty fuckin rude. Karkat told him to go get fucked and disconnected. Eridan’s memory started straying to a certain duel, so he wiped it out with a shake of his head.
“So tell me do you feathery fucks got a key for this chest or what” he asked, glaring down at the avian shopkeepers. The one who was doing all the talking (the small one, of course) nodded its head rapidly. “Yes! Yes!” it cried, flying over and landing behind the store’s counter, “We have just the key you need sir!” Eri noticed the other one kept put on top of the chest, looking left to right with the same dazed expression plastered on its face. He really hated consorts. He walked back over to the counter, laying his face on his fist. The sooner he could get back to the game the better, but if these fowl fuckups kept this up he’d die of old age first. The bird behind him suddenly coughed loudly. Eridan looked backwards with little interest. “Hey! Haven’t I seen you before, grey guy?” it asked, its head cocking from left to right like a pendulum. Eridan blinked. “Uh no you haven’t, I’ve never been in your fuckin store before” he replied stonily. The bird blinked back. “Well that’s kinda funny because I swear I’ve seen you before!” it replied chipperly. It flew over to a cabinet behind the counter. “See, look! You’re that guy on the posters!” it said eagerly, pecking the wall. Eri’s eyes followed, then froze.
The bird was pecking a fresh wanted poster, with Eri’s mug plastered on its center. This one had been taken when he had (inadvertently he sweared) destroyed several shops during an angel’s attack on his life: although most of this land was blindingly bright and stupidly decorated he recognized the (now destroyed) town square behind him. He was pointing Ahab’s Crosshairs at some unknown target, and he was looking pretty fucking dashing if he could say so himself. He would’ve been more interested in his looks if he wasn’t suddenly in danger of getting an entire squad of goddamn angels called on his ass while he sat like a fat duck in some shitty old house. He could take them , as usual… he tried to frown instead of looking scared. “Who the fuck is that douchebag,” he growled, “and why is he tryin’ to steal my look?” He stalked over behind the counter as the bird watched him in confusion, and jabbed a finger at his portrait. “Come the fuck on birdbrain, you think that guys me? Just another goddamn poser” He folded his arms in distaste. “Not nearly as handsome I mean come ON.” The bird considered the notion. He looked back in storage. “Frank! Hey Frank! Come check this dude out?” Frank (now given the prestigious title) flew back into the main room with a different keyring clenched in his beak. He spat it on the counter and flew over to Eridan’s shoulder for a good perch (considering the situation, Eri didn’t bother shoving him off). “Frank look this is the guy from the posters! Right?” the other bird chirped again. The stupid awareness on its face made Eridan want to strangle it. Frank peered closely. Both Eridan and the other bird watched him closely. He studied the poster intently, occasionally peeking at Eridan’s face (he hoped he wouldn’t crap on his glasses or something). And after a long moment of silence he finally spoke.
“Nope. It ain’t him.” His companion began to open his mouth but he was interrupted. “George you idiot. Fifth time this week! Its always genocide, huh?” he cawed him, and flew over to give him a talon thrashing. As the two idiots flew around the room in a whirlwind of feathers, Eridan could make out “No-Cape-You-Dumb-Dodo!” Eridan’s jaw dropped, and he dumbly slapped his back. He had forgotten to put his cape after he had dueled the mustard blooded asshole. Looking back he suddenly understood that they all weren’t scared of him now on his return trip: they had no idea that the mass murderer was back in town. Thank cod for stupid game monsters. He whirled to face them. “Can you two miserable cocks calm the fuck down” he snapped, “and just let me buy your fuckin key?” The two froze in midair, and tumbled onto the ground in a heap. Frank pecked his companion furiously, and then flew back over to the counter. “Ok. So sorry for inconvenice. George is a little stupid, ok?” the bird said, apologies sparkling in its beady eyes. It touched the single key with a talon. “I sell it to you for discount, ok? You tell everyone that the Frank Key Emporium is the best in the land, ok? ” Eridan feigned interest, promising himself he would never mention this old dump again. He started rubbing a golden ring on his index in boredom as the bird babbled on. He wasn’t worried about the cost: not only had his excursions throughout the land gained him a rather large figure on his wanted posters, but a rather large figure of boon dollars in his possession as well. The price this ball of feathers laid on him would be no matter. He yawned as the bird continued advertising his fine wares… until he got to the price.
Eridan blinked angrily behind his glasses. “20 million bloody boondollars?” he growled, drumming his fingers, “do you think I’m some stupid sodding peasant or something?” The bird looked surprised. “Um. That is much less than normal price!” it said with a head twitch, “normally price for such a valuable key would be 30 million plus! Good discount!” Eri stared into its eyes, looking for any hints of deception. Nothing but his own reflection. The bird actually fucking meant it! He could buy fighting powers at the local fraymotif shop for this (not that he would ever need them) instead of a goddamn piece of metal. He eyed the chest, and the inner seafarer in him moaned. “16 mil,” he said with finality and a theatrical fist pound.
Twenty minutes later Eridan shelled out nineteen point two million boondollars to the birds. He snatched up the key and held it in the light. It sparkled like silver, and its triangular head did in fact match the lock on the chest sitting across from him. He strolled over excitedly, the prospects of fantastic treasure bounding over the dismay at his damaged Porkhollow, as Frank and George watched intently from behind. He shoved the key into the lock furtively. He began to twist, and as light began to shine from inside he gaped out of excitement. Oh what relic he could find in there, what ancient power, what colossal secrets would he find in store! He flung is hands inside the pouring light, and snatched up the magical
Box. Actually, no. It was a small chest. Another treasure chest, to be precise. This one had two locks.
Eridan’s face was frozen in a joyous smile. From behind him came silence: the birds were peeking over his shoulders at his new prize. They looked at each other. When Eridan still didn’t move after some time, Frank wiggled his wattle and cleared his throat. “Well… uhm. I think I could help you with that, yes?” George snickered. Chuckled. And then burst out laughing, rolling on the counter in hilarity. As his partner’s laughs mingled with choked clucks Frank tried his hardest not to join in. Eri dan slowly turned around, his face turning burgundy. He inwardly dared the chicken to laugh. He dared him.
He did laugh. And so Eridan engaged.
A few minutes later, Eridan Ampora stepped out of the smoldering front half of Frank’s Key Emporium, tying his cape onto the folds of his scarf nonchalantly. Behind him stood a huge hole that stretched into the buildings behind, wafting the smell of burnt feathers and static. Ahab’s Crosshairs was hot in his hands as he surveyed the street. He heard furious clucking and yowling from behind him, the flapping of wings from above: they’d be here any second now. His once deceased lusus was yelling at him to his right, where he had been loitering outside the store, but he ignored him. He no longer needed to ride him from place to place, or wanted to. Why would he want to run away? Jingling his newly acquired key collection in his pocket, he stepped onto the cobblestoned road as his cape billowed from behind him. He could hear their cries already. As he stared into the blinding white sky and aimed his ancient weapon, he couldn’t help but grin to himself.
It was good to be back.
