Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

In the carriage, Lisbeth held the journal out for everyone to see.


"I'm not sure how I got this," she explained, "but I'm almost certain it belonged to Arkadious. These coordinates, here," she pointed to the page, "I think that's another clue he's left for us. The only thing is, I don't know what they mean. Or rather, where they mean. Can any of you make any sense of it?"

 

[ArtBlott]

BLott gave a wry smile at Genevieve, "More reliable than a Jump and a hope, I'd guess? It's not a trick I use often though," she admitted,"Acquiring the...materials is generally unpleasant, and air-art is one of those high-form..." she trailed off, wiggling her fingers vaguely before dropping them back to her lap. "...I had to learn it myself."


She shifted uncomfortably, and decided to leave Genevieve to her honeymooning with Fritz. She moved to peer over Lisbeth's shoulder at her inquiry. "Not off the top of my head, exactly. At most I can tell you what quarter of the planet it's on. Whatever planet it may be." She leaned back and sagged against the seat, "I'm fine with another trip across space and time, just...no more werewolves please."


She tucked away the pen and ink well back into the pockets of her vest. The groups' new ride swayed gently as they traveled on. The scenery around them didn't change much, just mist and more mist. Staring allowed the mind to play tricks, make the shadows and swirls of mist seem like something more sinister.

 

[Arkadious]

As everyone climbs aboard the new drawn carriage and William takes the reins, giving them a light flick to set the horses into motion, heading down the street towards the giant building in the distance, a pale figure emerges from the Black Iron House and watches them pull away. He pulls out a pocket-watch from his vest pocket and gives it a cursory glance, watching as it pulses slightly in his hand to the rhythm of a similar watch, before clicking it shut and stowing it back in his vest.


"Tick-Tock...Tick-Tock...Time is running out, my friends..."

 

[UCBooties]

The carriage trundled on serenely towards the distant structure and it never seemed to get any closer.


And then, quite suddenly, they had arrived. Lisbeth had called the place a Nexus, and it was truer than she knew. What they had taken to be a building was instead something much more profoundly terrible. Black Iron House upon Black Iron House, twisting upwards in a helical pillar that seemed to rise into infinity. It was a mirror of sorts, reflecting each eternal street stretching back into the mists of probability, distorting the whole arc of space-time back upon itself in a paradoxical chain of probability. There was only one Black Iron House, and it was this impossible mechanism by which it existed in all worlds and none simultaneously.


So. This then was what the House considered safe. What could be safer than Black Iron House itself?


The coach drew to a stop before a perfect reflection of itself. William hopped down and stuck his head inside.


"I don't think we're going to get a better path than this. Artist, Writer, if you can figure out what to do with those coordinates, I think this can take us exactly where we want to go."


He looked at them somberly. "Be sure though, I don't know if we'll ever be able to come here again."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"We'll need a map, I think," Lisbeth said, "I don't know where these coordinates lead, so if we'll need to be precise, then we'll need more information."


She looked around, but they had already left their version of Black Iron House behind, and she wasn't sure it was necessarily a good idea to go wandering into any of the other ones to try to find a map. Blott had already used her final piece of paper, and she'd seemed quite exhausted by the last use of her power. Lisbeth supposed there was nothing for it. Trying not to look at William, she reached into the air with her left hand, summoned her Book, and produced a pen in her right hand. She flipped the cover open, feeling her gut clench when she saw the pristine blank pages, like the Book was new. What had happened to all of her Writing? Was it gone? Erased? That couldn't be, because Frostine was still a part of her: she still wore Frostine's blue garb and she could feel the other consciousness sleeping deep inside her mind.


She shook her head. There would be time to worry about that later. She flipped to a page near the back, one that had surely been unused before. She swallowed and placed pen to paper. It somehow felt bulky and awkward in her hand, and moving it across the page was an effort, nothing like the way her pen normally flew with barely a thought.


On the page she wrote: A world map appeared.





She looked up. Nothing was there. She frowned.


A map of the world appeared.





Nothing.


A map of the Earth appeared.


A world map of Earth appeared.


A world map of the planet Earth appeared before Lisbeth Walpurgis.


Nothing, nothing, nothing.


For a moment she simply stared, her face an inscrutable mask, then she closed the Book with a sort of numbness.


"I... It isn't working," she said, her voice just above a whisper, "I can't Write."

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve arched an eyebrow at Lisbeth. Well, she supposed if they were making those kinds of confessions...


"I've lost my abilities, too," she said quietly. "The jumping, at least. I haven't had an opportunity to try the coffee lately."


Though if the coffee here is anything like Black Iron House tea, I'd rather not anyway.


They all sat in a contemplative silence--no one making eye contact--their next move just out of reach. But a thought began to take shape in the back of Genevieve's mind--echoes of past conversations that made her forehead wrinkle with concentration.


Surely I can't speak things into existence. That would be absurd.


Black Iron House can give you what you need.


If they were still in Black Iron House, as it were...


She pushed past Fitz and hopped down from the carriage. Straightening her back and raising her chin with a regal air, she surveyed the reflected world.


"We need a map of the planet Earth," she said, projecting her voice so that it bounced off the mirror-like pillar of Black Iron Houses. "Please."

 

[Arkadious]

As if waiting on the request to be made by a member of the party, a figure stepped forward from the shadows of The Black Iron House, reflected a million times over in the many facets of the helical pillar that stretched into infinity, all the reflections shifting and moving until they all coalesce into one central figure that strolls confidently towards the group of adventurers. Tall and lean, dressed in an eccentrically matched three piece suit comprised of black pinstripe pants, a dark brown asymmetrical cut vest with a similarly cut dark grey jacket, a lighter grey high collar shirt with a simple black tie adorned with a gold clasp completing his look. Where a collar would have normally been on his jacket, a hood extended, pulled up and obscuring the features of the stranger, except for two glowing embers where his eyes would be. The figure came to a stop a few feet from the party and looked them all over briefly.


"You lot sure do like to keep a person waiting, a dangerous thing to do when Time is not always on your side." As he spoke, an eerie sense of familiarity settled on Lisbeth and William Blackiron, the Writer and Creation. The figure moved forward with uncanny certainty, walking up to the Writer and requesting to see her Book. After a moments hesitation, she held it out to him. He briefly skimmed through it before settling on her most recent entry and ripped it from the Book, handing it back with a curt nod. "Artist, if you would be so kind, may I borrow your Pen?" Without waiting for a solid reply, he moved in front of Blott and held out his hand, standing politely as she refilled the Pen's cartridge and then handed it over. With a slight bow and then a turn with a flourish, strode to the side of the carriage, hastily scrawling and scratching lines onto the page he ripped from Lisbeth's Book, at the same time, unfolding it, over and over, impossibly so, until the what was once a small book page easily spanned the width of the carriage door. Pen darting and flashing, scratching more and more intersecting lines until without warning, he slammed the page against the carriage door and stuck it in place with the Pen.


He turned and looked over his shoulder and glanced at the group, glowing embers piercing into each of them as he surveyed them all. He looked down and removed a pocket watch from his vest, clicking it open and checking it briefly before snapping it shut and returning it to his vest. Suddenly, a breeze started blowing, whipping the page tacked to the side of the carriage around in a flurry, flapping in front of him rapidly, like a cape. He glanced over towards Blott and Lisbeth, and the Writer couldn't be sure but she almost thought that she saw a smirk play about his lips, hidden in the shadows of his deep hood. Just as abruptly, the breeze stopped and the Stranger was gone, left in his place stuck to the side of the carriage door a large hand drawn map of the world, with latitude and longitude lines...

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott scowled. Manhandlement of equipment, that's what that was. But if a stranger was going to waltz in and give them what they needed, she guessed she shouldn't complain. Still, if the nib on her Pen was bent, she was going to murder someone! Ah, well, to business.


She pulled a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses out from the lining of her hat. They looked a little too big for her, and sat crooked on her nose, but she didn't seem to mind as she scooted up almost nose-to-paper.


"Th-this..." she stammered, reeling back and eyes widening, "THIS JERK DIDN'T EVEN NUMBER THE LINES!!" It just couldn't be easy, could it? Still, the map looked modern enough...


Gritting her teeth, she ran her fingers over the lines. So here is the Americas, and New York is 40ish, so... She worked her east, clear across the world, across oceans and seas, through Turkey and Iran, dipping down to...


"I think we need to go to...um...Shanghai...ish?" She pulled off her glasses and looked at the group uncertainly.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"Shanghai?" Lisbeth repeated, "That's in... China, right?"


She glanced around at the looks she was receiving from the others, and her cheeks pinkened.


"I told you I was terrible a geography!" she protested, "And anyway, that doesn't matter. So now we know the where, but what about the when?"

 

[ArtBlott]

"The when is harder, but," Blott reached up and tried to remove her Pen from the carriage. She failed. "We may be able to find out based of what the map doesn't have." She balanced on her toes and wiggled the Pen around, trying to loosen it. "Like states or cities or whole countries. Or maybe places that used to be. For example, Persia isn't a thing anymore, and neither is the USSR." Her crow perched on the pen and cocked it's head at Blott as she gave up. "Could someone taller than me lend a hand and get that back please?"

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth crossed over to the map and reached up.


"One of the benefits of being on the taller side of average," she quipped with a half smile.


Her hand hesitated a hair's breadth away from the Pen, barely noticeable. Then she was pulling it out of the carriage and the map and handing it back to Blott while she grabbed the now-free map in her other hand.


Arkadious, or whatever was left of him, had made this. He'd touched that Pen. Touched her Book. How had he made the paper larger? Just what was he? It seemed that every instance she encountered him more questions were raised than answered, and that only made the ache in her breast grow stronger. What was this strange longing that made her seek him out? Made her want to learn everything she could about the man named Arkadious Grimoire?


He'd been so real this time, not just floating ember eyes or a whisper or a touch. He had been there, right in front of her, and so many questions had vied for position on her lips that she couldn't even manage to spit out one of them before he had disappeared again. Why? Why did he come and go like that? Why couldn't he stay with her?


Stay with them, she quickly corrected herself. Her and her companions, all of them, everyone who had banded together in the Sitting Room and beyond. He was meant to be with them, she just knew it had to be true. Even William had sensed it when he'd expected another in their party upon meeting them on the porch of Black Iron House. Arkadious had been helping them all along, every point that he could, leaving a trail of clues to help guide them toward...


Toward what?


She shook herself. She couldn't afford to doubt. The heart within her was strong, and it told her that they were on the right path. She had to trust her instincts and remain sure of herself. Kindness. Courage. Strength. She took a breath and focused on the task at hand.


"We have to already have the answer," she said, "He wouldn't have left us if we didn't have everything we needed to puzzle it out."


She pulled out the battered journal that had held the coordinates. Most of it had been illegible except the coordinates and one other thing.


"There," she said, pointing to the publisher's imprint, "1930. That might just be our when."

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

"Shanghai 1930..." Genevieve said slowly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "One non-stop, gilded party in the East. Jazz, dance halls, and enough opium hanging in the air to feel the effects just walking down the street. I wish I had something else to wear!"


She gave her friends a wink, but her expression quickly turned dark. She'd been to Shanghai before.


"It's a big place with a dangerous underworld. How do we know what--or who--we're looking for?"


Genevieve looked to Lisbeth with concern. If Arkadious Grimoire wanted to help them, why speak in riddles at all? While she had defended Lisbeth's desire to follow him and understood all too well that feeling of flushed cheeks and barely suppressed smiles, she worried about what this mysterious figure was leading them into.


After all, I've been plagued by enough mysterious figures to last several lifetimes.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"I don't know," Lisbeth confessed, placing a hand on her chest, "I'm not sure what 1930 Shanghai has to do with us, but it must be important. I just know it."


She looked around at her companions. She was doing the right thing, leading them down the correct path. She had to be.


"In any case, it's the best lead we have. I confess, though, that I don't know much about the locale or the era. Much of my life has been spent on worlds other than Earth," she looked to Genevieve and Fitz, "So I'll be counting on you two to help guide us when we arrive."

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Fitz looked down at Genevieve with that lopsided smile of his, a look that made her heart flutter.


"Go on then, Red," he said with a nod toward the others.


Genevieve blew a stray strand of hair out of her face to cover a sigh. She was accustomed to operating alone, and the thought of leading her friends into the underbelly of Shanghai--for she was certain any business they had there would be conducted in the shadows--filled her with dread. Not least because of what she had begun to fear she was capable of. But all eyes were on her, waiting. She squared her shoulders.


"Well, while I'm loath to give up my sword, I'm not sure arriving on the streets of Shanghai with open blades is going to do us any favors," she said. "We're going to have to be more discreet."


Unpredictable, blue-haired snow ma; talking bird. Discreet is not our strong suit.

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott tucked her glasses away, thanking Lisbeth and gratefully taking back her Pen. She looked it over carefully as the rest discussed Whens and What's. No damage. She wasn't sure if it would be repairable if damaged, and so guarded it carefully.


One day, whoever gave it to her may want it back, but...she'd fight to keep it, for sure. And maybe, just maybe, her new friends would help.


"So, basically, no one do anything we'very been doing?" She asked, unhitching the horses from the pitch black carriage and leading them away a few feet. Returning to the carriage, she stretched as tall as she could, and checked the 'wood', scored where her pen was imbedded. A thin line if black slowly oozed from the damage.


Shit. She raised her arm, her crow settling on her forearm and preening out a feather. "Everybody back up." With practiced ease, the feather stuck the damaged carriage like a dart, flames sprouting instantly and licking along the sides. She watched until all that remained was ash.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve took two quick steps back and bit her lip as Blott's feather-flames sprung up to devour the carriage.


"Er...yes...," she said, watching with her head cocked to the side as the black carriage disintegrated impossibly quickly into a pile of gray ash. "Yes, something like that."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth looked down at herself, then at the smoldering ruin of the carriage.


"Ah. Discretion," she mused, frowning, "I can see how that might be a problem."


She placed a hand on her chin and pondered.


"I don't exactly have a change of clothing," she said, "and Writing a new set isn't an option right now. I do wonder what happened to my normal clothes. Well, I suppose we'll need to try and pass me off as an eccentric foreigner. As for my swords..."


She held out a hand and her Book reappeared. She unbelted her swords, opened the book, laid the belt across it, and closed the cover as best she could. Then, with a wave, both Book and swords were gone, vanished into the ether.


"Oh, good! It worked!"

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve laughed.


"No shortage of eccentric foreigners in Shanghai, although most of them don't have quite so much..." She waved her hand to encompass the whole company and all their quirks.


What to do with her own sword? Fitz had gone back to Istanbul to retrieve it--because he knew he'd have the opportunity to return it or as a sentimental souvenir, she wasn't sure--and if she left it here there was no getting it back. There was a certain comfort to this sword, with its grip that fit her hand perfectly. Holding it she felt surer, safer--a remnant from the carefree days when learning to wield a sword was a game. She still had Fitz's revolver tucked away at her hip, but she'd never liked guns. They were too impersonal.


With a deep breath, she gingerly placed the sword beside the smoking ashes of the carriage.


No point in getting sentimental over a piece of metal. There are worse things to lose.


"That's it then," she said, fixing William with a determined gaze. "It seems we're ready to go."

 

[UCBooties]

William Blackiron stood silently and considered the map and the nexus. Beginning should be easy enough.


"We wish to go to Shanghai in 1930." He did not specify a date or which of the myriad possible Shanghais they were to go to. Black Iron House would give them what they needed.


A black wooden door appeared with no frame, standing on the street with nothing to support it. William rested his hand on the handle. Indeed, it was easy enough to begin. He opened the door, beyond was a mirror that reflected some other where and when, but distorted so they could not be certain where they would land.


For the first time, William Blackiron was truly leaving Black Iron House.


He stepped through the door.

 

[Arkadious]

The Nexus: Everyone watched as William stepped through the door that would take them to 1930 Shanghai, his form turning hazy in the glass once he stepped through. Blott and Lisbeth exchanged glances with Fitz and Genevieve, a silent question of who should go next. With a nod, Blott tucked her Crow under her hat and then stepped up to the door, looking back at Lisbeth before giving a shrug and forcing a confident smile and stepping through, her shadowy form joining William's on the other side. Lisbeth sighed and nodded then followed, joining her other companions on the distorted side of the mirror. Genevieve and Fitzgerald stood and looked at each other, Genevieve clasping Fitz's hands and squeezing gently before standing on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek and whispering "See you on the other side..." and then waltzing through the free standing doorway. Before she completely passed through, Genevieve looked back to smile reassuringly at Fitz, only to gasp in shock but before she could yell a warning, she was in Shanghai...


Shanghai, 1930: William walked through the doorway into a back alley street, the smells of spices and the sounds of Shanghai greeting him like a slap on the back, taking him a bit by surprise sense he had never before left Black Iron House. He turned and looked back at the doorway and instead only saw a shimmer, a mirage that suggested the Black Iron House on the other side and he comrades. One by one they walked through, joining him, first Blott then Lisbeth followed shortly by Genevieve, who wore a look of terror on her face...


The Nexus: Fitz saw Genevieve's face go pallid and her mouth open to say something but before she could say anything, she had passed through the doorway to Shanghai. Behind him, Fitz heard a voice "Not so fast, Altamonte...You have been a thorn in my side for too long, keeping Genevieve hidden from me. Now, I will take what I have came for, if not from her, then from you, Jumper!" Fitz turned to see Tristan and several Knights strolling towards him. Behind him, Fitz heard the Door swing shut with a click...

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Had they been paying close attention, William or Blott may have noticed Lisbeth pocket something as she stepped through the doorway. Then she was turning back to see Genevieve stumble through, eyes wide.


"What is it? What happened?!" Lisbeth cried as the door slammed shut.


Fitzgerald hadn't come through.

 

[Marianne]

Elsewhere in Shanghai. . .

​

A half-oriental woman, that stopped at the height of five foot four, yawned rubbing at the golden crust that had formed over night. A bowl of half eaten noodles and lukewarm green tea resting on her imported American oak wood table. Before her an opened notebook lay in front of her, within its contents were notes on the left side, a schedule on the right. It officially took the woman three minutes to get up and clean up last night's dinner, five minutes to undress and lay out the following day's clothing: an ivory cotton Cheongsam Qipao with soft golden embroidery complimenting its lacy design. After she paired the outfit with a pair of ivory laced, Alice shaped flats, golden floral designs weaving in and out of the lace, she would prepare her morning bath. She waited fifteen minutes before the three pots filled with tap water came to a boil. Once finished, she carried each pot to her bath one at a time, careful not to waste the hot water as she poured each one in and began to clean. Sitting on her stool as she scrubbed delicately at every delicate part of her person before dipping lightly into the tub to rinse, washing her long ravenous hair afterwards. By the time her bathing was accounted for the sun was almost done rising in the distance, it's light peeking through her petite window beside her sink. "Long day," the woman said in mandarin. "time to begin."


Ten minutes had passed and the young lady had already finished dressing herself, brushing her teeth, and brushing her hair into a delicately braided ponytail. When she was satisfied with her appearance, she opened her cabinet to examine its content regarding what it was she should go out to buy. More rice, she noted. She checked her notebook before nodding to herself, she added it to her errands list before double checking on her living room. It was spacious enough for her, only one person living here. She gathered the littered papers of high value and stuffed them, neatly, into a thick leather bound book worth of sentimental value before stuffing it into her dusted bookshelf cluttered with books. Confirming the tidiness of her living area, she grabbed her cerulean hand bag and keys before leaving her apartment. Closing the door quietly behind her, so as not to disturb her resting neighbors.


It was a patient walk down the stairs and she enjoyed the quiet before the city would awake. Pulling the wooden door open, along with the gated door outside of it, she made sure it was locked before walking down the side walk. Ducking her head every so often, so as to avoid getting smacked by overgrown branches from the untrimmed trees that decorated the natural appearance of her elegant home.


She had only walked a block and was already undoing her braids, curls falling, as she was nearing her favorite shop before she heard the distinct whisper of voices. She paused, slowing her steps as her ears strained for them, a tug began to form at her chest unexpectedly. Directing her to cross the petite street, over to her lift as she peered into the dark alleyway. It's shade crafted by the neighboring buildings as she acted as though she tried to distinguish the, maybe four, figures that hovered in it's corner.


Their voices were hushed, but it didn't stop her, she recognized they spoke another language she knew a little bit of as she asked, "Hello?" her accent thick and wavy like butter on toast.


I hope they understand me, she whispered. Her body humming in a strange comfortable response to their presence, which left her uncomfortable - she did not know why her body was responding to them as if they were familiar. And she trained her self well to conceal herself and her thoughts to the point, she made sure not to give herself away as she said, louder this time, "Hello, who is there?" Pronouncing every word carefully.
​

 

[ArtBlott]

No sooner had the door clicked shut, it ceased to be, unraveling itself into the air as though it had never existed. It wasn't until she turned back, and saw the distress etched in Genevieve's face, did she realize something had gone wrong. Blott's eyes widened as she looked around, taking note of their newly missing member. Did we...not go fast enough? Hesitant, she reached out and touched the side of the wall where the door once stood. Nothing. She didn't know what she was expecting, really. Blott looked searchingly at William. He knew more about the doors the Black Iron House produced better than anyone, did he know what to do? Could he get their companion back?


Her crow stirred, questions in questions springing to mind.


"Hello, who is there?"


Erk! Blott grimaced and brought the brim of her hat down over her eyes. The crow settled. Not five minutes here and we're already in trouble!

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve watched Lisbeth's back disappear into the door then turned to Fitz. They stood like that for a moment, holding each other's gaze. In his eyes, she saw the confidence that she lacked in herself. We've had so little time alone together, she thought. I hardly know him really. And yet... On an impulse, she took his hands and reached up to kiss his cheek.


"See you on the other side," she whispered before turning to walk through the door. Standing between this Where and the next, she looked over her shoulder, expecting to meet Fitz's crooked smile. What she saw instead turned her blood to ice.


The face she'd spent years searching for, one she'd never truly expected to see again. The same dark eyes she'd fallen into dozens of times, now peering out of a hard face frozen in malice. Here was Tristan, striding up quickly behind Altamonte, wearing a fine black suit. On his lapel, a gold pin glinted in the light--a circle enclosing three intersecting lines. He looked into her face, all love that once was there gone, his features contorted into a sneer.


"ALTAMONTE!" she shouted, but her voice echoed in a dark alley in Shanghai 1930.


Her heart was ripped in two. She couldn't breathe, the weight in her chest threatening to crush her.


This can't be happening again. Separated by When and Where from someone I...


She choked out a sob.


"Tristan. It's Tristan. And the Knights. They have Fitz."


Genevieve drew one long shaky breath, holding back the tears that threatened to burst forth, then pounded the side of her fist on the brick wall where the door should have been, over and over until a thin trickle of blood ran down her forearm. She stopped and closed her eyes, fist still pressed against the wall.


"I don't care if you Write it or Draw it or pull it out of the ether," she growled. "But someone get me a goddamn door so I can save him!"

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"Genevieve," Lisbeth said quietly, taking her friend by the shoulder, "I'm sorry... but it doesn't work that way. Even if I could Write right now, any door that I made wouldn't take us there, not to that When and Where. I believe it would be the same for Blott, and..." she trailed off, remembering the smoking carriage, "We probably ought to be sparing with her Ink anyway."


Genevieve turned to Lisbeth, her eyes full of tears and anguish and... something darker. Something savage. Lisbeth dropped her hand away, her chest tightening, but she held the other woman's gaze.


"The only reason we even got to that Nexus in the first place was because we had Fitz's jumping ability and the full power of Black Iron House. Now we have neither. I'm sorry, but Fitz is on his own."


Her heart ached. It was too cruel. They couldn't just leave Fitz in the hands of the Knights... but they didn't have any other choice.


"Hello, who is there?"


A voice floated down the alleyway to them: light, female, and strangely accented. Lisbeth stiffened and drew her hood up to conceal her face. She looked to her companions.


"Barely a minute here and someone finds us already," she muttered, "Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidence. Come on. We have a job to do."