An Abandoned Subway Tunnel below Manhattan
Early evening, mid-February of 2007.
Two figures lounged in the dark abandoned subway tunnel. The first, a male silhouette in form fitting black tactical gear… lets call him Bob. Bob had a shoulder strapped MP5 submachine gun resting against his abdomen, and offered a cigarette to the second figure. The second person, a female wearing gear that was mostly identical except for the color and distinct lack of pants… we’ll call her Gwen. Gwen declined the offer and leaned against a conveniently placed pile of rubble.
The pantsless minion leaned down as a puppy sized quadrupedal shark… lets call him Jeff. Jeff rubbed against her leg, and Gwen pulled out a fresh bag of garlic knots and started feeding them to the creature as Bob lit his smoke.
“Yeah, I put in my two week’s notice this morning,” Bob confirmed, “I’ve only been here a few months, but I had a dream last night that really put things into perspective for me.”
The cigarette cherry pierced the pitch-black tunnel. Other points of light from scattered night-vision goggles dotted the darkness. Off to the side, a blonde goatee’d man in a track suit with dark sunglasses was having a heated conversation over a handheld radio, too hushed for the pair to overhear.
“First, you’re probably going to need a little background info,” Bob continued when the silence confirmed that his companion didn’t have anything to add, “The reason I took this job is because of my irrational and overwhelming fear of death. I’m not talkin’ normal fear, like… I sit awake at night with panic attacks sometimes at just the thought that one day my consciousness is going to end. It’s not normal… like, I’m talkin’ ‘awake at 4 am watching online videos in a futile attempt to distract myself from thoughts of my own inevitable demise’ kind of panic attacks.
“I’m pretty sure it stems from some trauma I had when I was a kid, and intellectually I know that a fear of death is counterproductive, but going into that would take forever. I’ll just say that I’m aware the fear is irrational. That doesn’t stop the panic attacks.”
The radio conversation heated up. The track-suited man pulled a choker with a blood-red gem from his pocket, nodded, and then stowed it away before returning the radio to a nearby guard.
“The whole reason I took this job,” Bob tossed his still lit and mostly finished cigarette onto the rubble strewn ground, “Was the chance that somebody might decide to turn me into a vampire. I mean, sure, the benefits are pretty good, but let's be honest… the main draw is the whole ‘eternal life’ thing.”
The blonde man barked a few orders to another silhouette and pointed vaguely at a ten foot concrete cylinder in the distance. The silhouette’s only answer was a grunt in the affirmative and a crisp, professional military salute, and the track-suited man stalked off in the direction of the tunnel exit.
“Now, back to the dream,” Bob pulled out a beat up blue pack of Pall Mall filters, noted with a disappointed sigh that there were only three cigarettes remaining, and continued without lighting another, “Last night I dreamed that I was like, in my 80’s… like, I was me… bitter, angry atheist with an irrational and overwhelming fear of death… but I was old, and for some reason I was absolutely certain that I was about to die that night.”
After the track suited man left, the remaining silhouettes took tactical positions as their leader barked orders.
“In the dream I spent, like, a bunch of time saying goodbye to my loved ones,” Bob pulled his cigarette pack out once again and took cigarette into his mouth without lighting it, and continued his speech around the obstruction, “Then finally, once I’d said all of my goodbyes, I went to bed knowing full well I was going to die, angry and bitter about the whole scenario.”
Silhouettes in tactical gear stood at the ready, taking aim at the large concrete pillar in the distance with their MP5’s. Some checked clips, changing them out if they were low. Others clicked safety switches into the ‘auto’ position. The two figures in the back continued their conversation.
“I could feel my body shutting down. I knew I was dying. Like… it may have been a dream, but in the dream it felt like the real fuckin’ deal, you know?” Bob finally gave in and lit his cigarette, taking a large drag before he continued, “When my vision was tunneling, with darkness closing in, I could suddenly feel like my soul was leaving my body… then, you know what happened?”
Gwen shrugged and grunted, cocking her head to the side, giving the first real indication that she was listening to the man. Bob took a breath, the silence clearly acting as the permission he sought to continue.
“I felt a warm hand press on my chest, pushing me back into my body,” Bob took another drag on his cigarette before letting out a sigh of contentment out with the smoke, “It was like… in my dream I could feel the love of that hand. Like it was telling me that my time wasn’t up.”
Bob tossed his now much shorter cigarette onto the ground, coincidentally causing it to land beside its now extinguished companion.
“And then I woke up,” Bob finished with an almost astonished tone, “And I had this really urgent feeling that I needed to tell somebody. Sure, intellectually I’m sure it's just my subconscious finally telling my brain that it needs a break from the panic… but, I don’t know Gwen… I can call you that, right?”
Bob paused until a nod from his sole audience member signaled for him to continue.
“I just feel like, even if it is just brain chemicals, or whatever,” Bob shook his head slowly, “If it helps me with these panic attacks, or even if it doesn’t, and me sharing it helps even one other person… it’s probably worth getting past my own stupid doubts to share it, you know?”
“Wow, Bob,” Gwen finally responded, pulling her pink hood off to reveal a shock of shoulder length blonde hair with pink frosted tips framing an adorable face, “That is like… super deep and existential for a silly absurdist comedy harem fanfic.
“And aww,” Gwen turned to look at a blank wall nearby, “That’s a really sweet thing to say! I think I’m super cute, but it’s nice to have someone else say it! It was much better than the intro I was expecting…
Gwen’s voice lowered in a sarcastic parody of a sultry tone, “‘her spandex clad pink and white clad breasts bounced boobily in the darkness, her clothing so tight her nipples could be seen, and the tightness of her pantsless bloomers hugged the curves of her sex…’ Bleh!”
“Yeah, I know it’s a stupid thing,” Bob continued, confused by at least 90% of that statement, but determined to keep going, “But I figure, hey, it made me feel better, so I should probably share it with someone. Our vampire bosses aren’t likely to care, and the rest of the squad is like… super dedicated to the cause… so the new girl would be the best person to unload on. Sorry if it was a bit too much.”
“Nah, Bob,” Gwen winked and stuck her thumb up in approval, “Totally cool. I always thought you were a cool guy, even if you have the worst luck when choosing employers. And honestly, your instincts were spot on.”
Gwen paused for a moment as the pillar of concrete in the distance started to crumble. The tactical squads shouted orders, and their laser sights swept the void, fixing on the pillar.
“I don’t even work with these guys,” Gwen continued as the tension in the tunnel rose to a fevered pitch, “I just snuck in the back when I saw these guys following a jerk wearing sunglasses in a dark tunnel. I figured a bunch of vampire mooks would most likely meet the protagonist sooner rather than later, and if I’m going to get my ‘in’ with this guy, this was going to be my best shot.”
The pillar of concrete crumbled, another figure left an area just large enough to hide a kneeling woman’s figure, as the squad of familiars began firing. A third figure emerged from the left of the rubble, wearing flannel pajamas and a pair of ridiculous flip-flops, with a glowing shield around him that reacted periodically to rounds fired at him.
“There he is, right on schedule,” the pink haired woman said cheerfully as she pulled out a cardboard sign with the words ‘perfect side chick material’ written in silver sharpie, and put on her best cheerful smile, “You’re going to want to watch this Bob, Elsa is a badass. Honestly, she’s always kind of been an inspiration for me. I hope the author doesn’t just cut to another scene so he doesn’t have to write the action sequence.”
“Alright you wankers!” A woman’s voice with a thick British accent cut through the tunnel as the first round of firing reached a natural lull, and the familiars frantically rushed to reload, “Time for Round Two!”
A featureless office somewhere in the city.
A few minutes ago.
A man stood at a modern minimalist desk. His hands gripped the edge, his knuckles white as he glared at the radio receiver. The man was the picture of ‘stylish tech-bro’, with short perfectly gelled hair, a closely trimmed goatee, and a casual suit with the top three buttons opened.
A woman with short platinum blonde hair was at his side, leaning against the wall with a bored expression.
“Help me understand what you’re saying,” the man said with a measured tone, and the tops of his prominent canines showed themselves as he spoke, “You were able to take the stone, but a kid in pajamas appeared just as you were about to kill the target. When you ordered your men to kill him, all he said was ‘rude’, and you and your men were flung back by some unseen force. The next thing you saw was a pillar of concrete rising up from the ground, hiding your target and the young man from view.”
“Yes sir,” a distorted voice crackled over the radio receiver, “It sounds stupid when you say it like that… but that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”
“Crease, I’m…” the man continued, pinching the area between his eyebrows with frustration, “Forget it, come back. The amulet was the primary objective. Leave your men behind to finish the job. I need you to meet with Quinn… he’s going after the Day…”
“Are you serious?” A cheerful but annoyed woman’s voice called out from the office hallway, surprising both of those present, “Yadda yadda blood god. Yadda yadda ancient temple. Shut up already. I was looking forward to that fight scene! Are you just going to skip it like that?”
Fine. Back in the tunnel.
Right now.
“Yuss!” the girl in pink said to her confused companion, “When hints don’t work, shame the author. Hang on Bob, this is about to be a wild ride. Oh! Jeffy poo, come to mommy. Who’s the cutest little apex predator? You are!”
Submachine gun magazines clicked into place throughout the abandoned tunnel as a manicured hand appeared on the distant rubble, followed by the trenchcoat covered form of a blonde woman carrying a shotgun leaping into view. The quickest of the minions started firing once again, but the rapidly fired shells pinged harmlessly off of a red tinted shield ringed with Enochian runes leading her rapidly advancing form.
The woman rushed forward into range of the first set of minions who tossed their MP5’s to the ground and pulled out stun batons. The closest of the minions swung his baton, but the blonde woman was already ducking as she rushed in. Just after the crackle of electricity kissed the top of her hair, the woman rose back to a standing position, bringing her foot up into a straight kick into the unguarded stomach of her target.
The second minion moved into her flank, but Elsa was waiting. She used the momentum of her kick to thrust herself backward, ducking the stun baton swinging at her from the side and twisting into a wheeling back somersault. The woman’s motion stopped when she reached a handstand position, her legs split into opposing positions, and she twisted into a twirling kick that caught both of her opponents with heavy blows.
“Holy poop!” Squealed Gwen, as her body bounced with excitement, “This is better than the time we fought the shadow demons! Gawd, I wish I was gay, cuz I’d tooootally hook up with Elsa.”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it,” An impossibly attractive young man wearing flannel pajamas answered from the relative safety of the rubble Gwen and Bob had occupied, “I love seeing a powerful woman kick arse. Popcorn?”
Four more of the familiars rushed in to fill the spots vacated by the downed opponents, and Elsa dropped into a roll, quickly putting distance between herself and her aggressors. She took a kneeling position as she recovered, bringing both fists up into a boxer’s pose, and stared down at her enemies.
“Alright gits,” Elsa spat a bloodied wad of saliva to the side, “The bloke in the pajamas said I ain’t allowed to kill you wankers, but that don’t mean I can’t make it hurt. Right then, who’s next for a kickin’?”
“Ah! There’s the one liner!” Gwen tore her gaze away from the fighting woman to look at the young man that had just appeared, noticed the bowl of popcorn, and then broke into a beaming smile, “Popcorn? Holy poop, Jeff loves popcorn! Can he have some?”
“Grargle?” Said Jeff, his eyes sparkling with undisguised hope.
“It’s an endless bowl,” the young man nodded as he handed the popcorn to the girl, “Don’t be polite on my account.”
“Fuck yeah! Holy shit… they didn’t hide that with punctuation! I can drop F-bombs again! I knew it was a good idea to come here!”
"Grargle-gurgle!" Jeff cheered, his tiny tail wagging so hard it kicked up a cloud of pulverized concrete dust.
"I know, right?!" Gwen squealed, grabbing a handful for herself and aggressively throwing it into her mouth. "No black bars! No random skull emojis covering up the good words! Chapter’s released daily (for now at least). This timeline is officially the best. I am never going back to the monthly release cycle! Now I just need to make sure this author doesn’t drop the fic randomly."
Elsa sprang forward, her right fist already pulling back into the start of a right cross. Her fist met the rightmost minion before the team could spread out, preventing them from surrounding her. The crack of a fist meeting a jaw echoed through the tunnel, and as the man dropped Elsa’s right leg planted on the ground, instantly changing her momentum to intercept the next set of enemies.
“Right,” said Greg as he watched a girl in a pink and white costume feed popcorn to a bread loaf sized quadrupedal shark. To be honest, this single word was doing a lot of work. The confused expression on Greg’s face said more than his mouth ever could, but he was an old hat at ignoring existential crises, so he adapted rather quickly, “I noticed the sign. I figured I’d drop over and see what it was all about.”
“Oh!” Gwen’s eyes lit up, “You must be Protag-kun! I was in the area and I figured I’d see if I could hang out for a bit. The comics aren’t doing too great at the moment, and the fans might rebel if they shoehorn me into another crossover… oh, and nobody has confirmed me in Rivals yet, so I figured I’d see if I’d work out in some fanfiction. I’m probably a little too ACE for a typical harem fic, but I figure the author will keep me around for eye candy if he doesn’t shoehorn me into a Het role.”
“Gurowgle,” said Jeff.
“Right,” Greg answered, once again allowing that word to pull overtime, “Well, if we can handle Doreen managing the city’s squirrel population from our balcony, I suppose you’re welcome as well.”
“What? Doreen is here too? Holy crap Jeff!” Gwen squealed in glee and hugged her gurgling pet, “It’s like all my friends are here! I can’t wait to see everyone again! Oh! This is Bob from Hydra! Except, I don’t think he works for Hydra yet in this timeline. Give it time, the guy has horrible luck with employers.”
“Hello!” said Bob.
Elsa pushed forward, sticking both arms out as she careened toward the next set of minions, clotheslining both of the men with painful force. The last familiar rushed forward in a panic, but Elsa simply grabbed the man and pulled him into a bone crunching headbut, driving her forehead into the man’s nose.
The blonde woman surveyed the downed threats, dusted off her palms, and kicked a minion struggling to stand. When her opponents remained down, she sauntered over to the group chatting by the rubble.
“I don’t suppose you lot saw where that bloodsucker went with my choker,” Elsa said as she walked over, “Gonna kind of need to get that back I think.”
“He left before the fight,” Greg answered, “Shouldn’t be a problem. As per our agreement, I will help you get it back. We can head back to my apartment for the moment, I’ll work out a tracking spell to…
“Ooh! Can I come?” Gwen interrupted, “I mean, I didn’t insert myself into the narrative just to get sidelined immediately, of course I’m coming. Jeff is coming too! Bob should probably stay though, I’m sure he has another job interview to get to anyway. Maybe for A.I.M. this time, or maybe as a robot mechanic in Latveria.
“Elsa!” Gwen quickly pivoted, “So good to see you again! How have you been?”
“Uh, I don’t think we know each other, love. Maybe you’re mixing me up with someone else?”
“Nope!” Gwen said, popping the P. Without missing a beat she pulled a generic looking automatic pistol from her harness, took aim down the sights, and pulled the trigger. A grunt and a thud followed the crack of the bullet as a thug preparing to shoot at Elsa dropped to the ground, “We did some serious butt-kicking back in 616, so I already know we’ll get along famously.
“Relax, sparky,” she said as Greg gave her an annoyed look, “I heard what Elsa said. I only winged him. If you want to keep the blood to a minimum in this fic, who am I to mess with that. I don’t want the author to delete my part… though that would probably kill his word count today, so I should be safe.”