Tales of the Parodyverse

Desmond Djinn comes to Parodiopolis


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Visionary
Mon Jul 07, 2003 at 07:45:20 pm EST
[ New ] [ Tales of the Parodyverse ]

The lights shone off the wet tarmac as April climbed the steps to the old silver twin engine prop plane. It was just like something out of a movie, she thought. The exact kind of beginning that an adventure like this was supposed to have.

“You April Natel?” a sour looking man in a sweaty khaki shirt asked, taking her hand and helping her to board.

“Yes… Captain?” she asked, a bit skeptically.

“Something like that” the pilot snorted. “He’s in the back. Join him and strap in. Don’t hold your breath for cocktail service.”

April watched him disappear into the cockpit, and then made her way towards the back of the plane, bypassing the crates of various sizes that were strapped and netted in place. At first she worried that there were going to be no seats at all in this cargo plane, and her sense of adventure momentarily faltered at the thought of a long flight perched upon a wooden box. But as she cleared the last of the cargo, she opened a fenced in gate that lead to a extremely small passenger compartment, complete with four jump seats lining the walls. One of them was occupied.

“Miss Natel” the man greeted her, raising his face from a laptop perched on a small box liberated from the rest of the cargo. “Any problems?”

“No... My parents dropped me at the airport, but they think I’m on a flight back to the university. I’ll call and try to explain things when we land.” She felt guilty deceiving them like that, but there was no way her parents would ever approve of her dropping out of school to go globe trotting in the employment of a man she just met… even if that man was internationally renown monster hunter Desmond Djinn.

“Good” Mr. Djinn replied, picking up a walkie-talkie. “We’re ready to go” he informed the pilot.

April hurriedly sat down in the seat opposite him and fumbled with the belts. Within seconds the engines roared to life and the plane began to roll forward. She looked briefly for any window for one last glimpse at the Bahamas, but bereft of any turned her attention back to her new employer.

Needless to say, he cut an imposing figure. Before she had met him, she had only seen the occasional newspaper photo of him. When he had approached her in that bar two weeks ago, she hadn’t recognized him without his trademark look. There was no mistaking him now.

With the exception of his biceps, his entire body was coated in a deep blue shell that fitted him like a second skin of shining liquid metal. What’s more, the shine seemed to come not just from the material itself, but from the air flowing over it.

“Charged force field” he stated in a loud voice, to be heard over the engines. “Comes in handy against the bigger nasties in this business.”

April blushed, realizing she had been caught staring at his body. Before she could answer, they picked up speed and she could feel the ground give way beneath them as they rose into the air. “You… you said that once we were airborne you could explain things to me” she ventured.

“So I did” he grunted, checking his watch. “Alright then, we have plenty of time to kill.”

“Where are we headed?”

“Nova Scotia, first” he answered. “Most of this cargo from my African expedition will be picked up there and sent on for classification and analysis. From there, we head to Parodiopolis.”

She caught her breath. Parodiopolis! And here she was expecting some remote uncivilized no man’s land. “Why Parodiopolis? What’s there?”

He barked a short, harsh laugh. “What isn’t?” Grabbing a bundle of folders from the black leather satchel next to his seat, he tossed it into her lap.

Upon opening the first one, she was completely enthralled. “What on earth..?” she asked in a hushed voice, lifting the top Polaroid from the stack of documents inside. The image was blurry, but frightening.



“A family of Japanese tourists disappeared while sight-seeing the city’s eastside. The wife’s left foot was eventually recovered. Most of it, anyway. Police couldn’t find much else to go on. My team, however, did.”

Djinn Operations was an international research and development group, as April knew from her reading, funded mostly from salvage expeditions. They had recovered six of the ten biggest treasures ever found… and happily turned over three of them to the cultural offices of the countries in which they were unearthed. The rest were shipments of precious metals and stones recovered from international waters. While they seemingly lead the world in treasure hunting, all of this was secondary to the real purpose of this international team of scholars, investigators and historians. They were there to find and identify Desmond Djinn’s next prey.

She turned her attention back to the picture. She could distinctly make out a vast clawed hand reaching for the camera. She shuddered involuntarily. “What else did they find?”

He shrugged. “A few more scraps, but most importantly a wallet and the camera in the possession of a homeless man in the area. He had seen them get taken.”

“What took them?”

“Our best research indicates that it’s a troll… Euro variety, female, quite old… but then it would have to be. Best guess is that it’s Lagenes of the Danube, who was active in the world as late as 1503. Competing theories are that it’s Rostoch of the Tigris, or possibly Mahssus of the Rhine. There’s no solid evidence to support any of them making a trek to the New World, however, so the details are sketchy at best. We’re still chasing down leads. Once it’s fully identified, we’ll have a better lead on weaknesses.”

Even though she had effectively run away from home fully believing this was what she would be doing, she suddenly found the reality of it hard to accept. “There’s a… a troll in… Parodiopolis?”

“There’s more than that” he said, nodding to the folder in her lap. She paged through the documents, pausing at one that included a series of snapshots paper clipped to the page. They seemed to be a series of churches, photographed in pairs. “Why are there doubles of all of these?” she asked.

“There aren’t.”

She stopped and blinked, then studied the pictures closely. Now she could tell that the lighting was indeed different… they had all been taken at different times. But still, it was the exact same building from the exact same angle. Or… was it? She looked at one pair, then the next, and the next. “The gargoyle… the big one” she finally noted. “It’s only in one of each set of pictures...”

He nodded. “And yet it’s the same gargoyle on every building. And that’s still just the beginning.”

April became distinctly aware of the full weight of the files on her lap. She opened another. “What’s an… Abyssal Greye?”

“A rumor, so far. More investigation is required.”

“And a… Shoggoth?”

He gave her a cold grin. “Something else entirely.” He reached across and pulled an especially thick one out of the pile. “This is what first brought Parodiopolis to our attention. The Lady Camellia and her House.”

April paged through the documents listing member after member of the Camellia organization. Suspected criminal activities were listed as well… an impressive list including racketeering, drug running and murder. “I don’t understand… these just look like people… incredibly beautiful people… not monsters.”

“Fey” he spat with a disgusted look on his face. “They’re not human. Immortal. Soulless. Mixing with humanity and destroying them from within. Using man’s weakness to bring him to ruin… all because they think it’s funny. They’re the very definition of monsters.” He pulled a flask out of his satchel, unscrewed the top, then took a long pull. He didn’t offer any to her. “They’re the very kind of monster that got me into this gig.”

She stayed quiet and hoped he would continue. After watching her for a few moments, he shrugged and did just that.

“My father was stationed in Saudi Arabia, working for Zoxxon Oil. They were drilling a new well, when they came across something unexpected. They let loose a Djinn… a real, honest to god Efreet.” When she continued to stare at him blankly, he rolled his eyes. “A god damn Genie… Only it wasn’t in any lamp. It was trapped within the oil field. And when they let it loose, it offered to repay them handsomely.”

He took another pull off the flask. “You have to understand something about working in the oil industry. For the guys in the field, it’s hot. It’s backbreaking. And it’s hopeless. Your entire life is centered around making somebody else rich. Yeah, I know… most jobs are like that. Only it’s not so obvious. Black gold, they call it. Tangible wealth. The thing is, gold you might be able to slip past a foreman… maybe a little in your boot, a little dust in your clothing. You’ll likely never try… it’d be your job… but that’s your choice. With oil, well… What the hell are you going to do?” Another pull off the flask. “That’s somebody else’s fortune. But you have to dig it up, and ship it off, and know that it’s money all the while. And when you’re treated like crap, that begins to weigh on a man. You see, you need to understand that…” he leaned in to give her a level glare, “…Because the djinn certainly did.”

She nodded hesitantly, not sure how she was supposed to respond.

“Wishing is a dangerous business” he declared in a tired voice. “Popular myth has it that’s because some devil will twist your words towards unforeseen consequences. Wish to be the most handsome man in the world, and—boom!--you’re suddenly the prettiest guy embedded in the Earth’s core. Or maybe those Monkey Paw wishes… Wish for money and get your fortune through the life insurance policies on your family, that kind of thing. There’s some truth to that… some creatures out there with such a simple sense of black humor. But the dangerous ones… the really nasty ones… they grant the wishes exactly the way you intend them.”

“How… how is that bad?”

“Because it’s easy to wish something… and a djinn knows the truth. They know the taste of rage that bubbles up in a man in a pure, undiluted form for that oh so brief instant before reason and prudence kick in. That moment where a man honestly wants the driver who cut him off in traffic to crash and burn. That instant where a woman wants the drunken letch who groped her ass to choke to death on his own tongue. That flash of time where the efreet can twist a human into a monster before they can ever think better of it. That those are real, honest, heartfelt wishes is a fact that is as inescapably true as anything you’ll ever learn about yourself. These creatures know that window of opportunity chillingly well. There is no effort required in wishing to give a man pause about the consequences. No six day waiting period before wishes are implemented. That kind of magic is instantaneous. And it’s far too easy… which is what makes it evil.”

April hesitated to ask “What happened to your father?”

Desmond Djinn shrugged. “The efreet knew his heart, and granted his wishes. Everything he gained came at the expense of those he wanted to see suffer, whether he’d even believed it of himself before or not. Of the 12 men granted wishes, none lived more than 20 days after freeing the djinn. They were loaded guns for those last few weeks, destroying everything they ever cared about with the bile they had always carried in their hearts. I believe my mother died because she had once gotten drunk and slept with my father’s best friend when they were all in college. Apparently, something lingered despite his assurances that she was forgiven. My father blew his head off with a shotgun soon after she was forced to pay for her youthful transgression.” He went to take another pull of the flask, but apparently thought better of it and returned it to the satchel. “His last wish was to take it all back. That one was against the rules.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked with a sudden flash of insight. “Taking it back?”

He shot her a look of respect. “Indeed. All of it. The whole goddamn world. Taking it back from monsters like that. Taking back control of our lives, and ourselves. I was in college at the time, studying physics. It took me a full year to piece together what had happened. Another year to research the phenomenon, and a third to hunt down and skin the djinn responsible. It’s skin is the only magical artifact I’ve ever come across and not destroyed.”

She looked to the shimmering blue skin he wore over his own. “So that’s…”

“Yes” he admitted, looking down at his blue-clad form. “What’s left of him, anyway. Rendered inert after years of study… study which provided the knowledge needed to carry out that last wish of my father’s. Magic is just energy, you see… and energy can be countered. It is tied up in sentience, definitely… and therefore different from the potential and kinetic energies of physics, but most of the properties still hold. Magical creatures and a few humans have the skills to tap into these energies and use them… but mankind has long been developing the technology and knowledge to deal with them. Most of the ways to counter spells are as ancient and outdated as medieval healing practices are to modern state of the art hospitals. My foundation has been working to bring modern science to bear on the problem of magic, and find the ultimate solutions. Through science, this skin is now a magical dead field, dispelling mystical energies.”

“Are you saying… you don’t use the magic yourself?”

His eyes grew dark. “I am not what I hunt” he stated simply.

“And now you’re hunting in Parodiopolis.” She quickly moved to change the subject. “Will you be working with the Lair Legion at all?”

“I rather doubt it…” he stated blandly, “…since I’m planning on killing many of them.”

April blinked. “What?”

Djinn retrieved the files from her lap. “Whitney Darkness” he read, opening one. “Codenamed: Sorceress. Verified mystic/witch, top priority target. A bullet to the brain pan will likely do the trick” he noted, going on to the next page. “Codename: Pegasus. Likely mythological. Recommended as target, unknown level. More research pending… Codename: Fin Fang Foom. Possible mythological, though alien origins cited. Recommended as level 1B target. More research pending...” he chewed his lip momentarily, then continued. “Known or suspected associates of the Legion: Codename: Donar. Verified Diety. Level 1A target. More research pending... Codename: Xander. Verified mystic/wizard, Level 3A target... Sydney St. Sylvain, Codename: Fashion Fairy. Verified Fey, Top priority target... Codename: Zebulon. Verified Fey. Mid priority target... Codename: Knifey. Verified sentient object / possible mystical. Recommended for destruction... Codename: Steve. Likely mystical object. Recommended for destruction...” He looked up at her and noted her growing distress with amusement. “Surely this isn’t all news to you?”

“But… those… the Lair Legion are heroes…”

“Maybe” he stated noncommittally. He grabbed an object from his satchel and tossed it over to her. “See that? That was a gift from a tribal king in Cameroon. I was hunting a Mjundaktae demon in the area, and he came to me for help. Said his daughter had been possessed by wicked spirits. Begged me to free her soul. I interviewed her… found out he was likely just pissed at being shamed by a daughter who was no longer a virgin though she was set to marry a neighboring tribal prince.”

She tried to avoid thinking about the sick sense rising in her stomach by turning the object over in her small hands. It was a delicately carved ivory totem of some sort with a black stone set in its crest. “What did you do?” she asked with a dry mouth.

He leaned in to look in her eyes. “I dismembered her body, buried the pieces over 4 square miles, and have her brain in a box for my people to dissect and classify.” He took the totem back from her shocked grasp. “The king was so grateful that he awarded me this treasure… said to be a stone imbued with the protective powers of their god, though all readings on it come back mundane. I razed their temple to the ground, killed their priest, and will see to the destruction of this totem. The point is simple, and it is this… I don’t take chances.”

She was too shocked to think clearly now. “You’re… that’s insane.”

“No, April. Just pragmatic.”

“You can’t seriously think you can kill those heroes… You can’t possibly succeed.”

“Why? Because countless supervillains failed? There’s a difference between them and me, April. They all wanted something. They wanted to rule the world, or rob a bank, or whatever petty games they played. They wanted the heroes to know who had beaten them, or how, or why. They wanted to gloat, or revel in the kill, or see the look of fear in a legionnaire’s eyes. Me, April? I just want them dead.”

April stared at him in utter disbelief until he finally broke out in a wide grin and bellowed out a great howl of laughter.

“Heh… You can relax, girl. I was just kidding. You didn’t really think I’d hunt down some of the world’s most famous heroes, did you?”

The hell she didn’t. As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, her instincts were saying that he was a complete psycho. She did her best to laugh anyway. “No… no, of course not” she lied. “It’s just… that troll picture and all… I’m out of my depth.”

He nodded. “Yeah, all the newbies are. It definitely takes some getting used to. But let me put your fears to rest… I’m definitely heading to Parodiopolis for a showdown with Lady Camellia’s Fey. A pretty straight-forward job.”

She nodded enthusiastically. As soon as they landed, she figured, she could make a break for the restrooms at the airfield and call the authorities on her cell phone.

“The thing about Fey…” he blathered on, though she was hardly listening any more, “is that they’re all the same. Always trying to make deals with the darker side of man’s nature. Always telling a man what they think he wants to hear. They look to exploit what you want. There hasn’t been a one that didn’t try to barter their way out of their fate in the end.”

She wondered if the pilot would help her, or if the people Djinn employed were as insane as he was.

“Of course, the biggest strike against the Fey is that, on rare occasions, they manage to cross breed with humans. Purely accidental, I imagine… but it goes to show they have no limits in how they use people for their entertainment.”

“Disgusting” April agreed, with a slight quiver in her voice.

“In truth, they probably think much the same about their part-human kin. And the kin don’t inherent much out of the deal. It pretties up the family tree a bunch, certainly… and a few families get some good fortune out of things. Once in a great while, though, a dormant recessive gene from a fairy ancestor sparks up a strong potential for magic down the line. Pretty random and chaotic seeming, but then… that’s magic for you.”

She nodded slowly as she squeezed her hands together and felt the dread building up in her stomach. Nobody knew where she was…

“You’re very attractive, April” he stated bluntly, with absolutely no lust in his eyes. “A delicate beauty. Almost ethereal, some would say. I don’t suppose you can tell me who your great-grandfather was?”

She started shaking and could no longer hold back the tears. “I don’t know” she answered in a small voice, lost among the droning of the engines.

He nodded. “I do” he said, taking a folder out of the satchel and tossing it in her lap.

She made no move to open it. “Please…” she begged. “I don’t know anything about this. I don’t know anything about magic…”

“I know” he answered. “But you never know about your children, or your children’s children, do you?” From the leather bag he produced a sliver-plated pistol and removed and inspected the clip. The side of it was labeled “hollow-point / iron”.

“Please… my… my family…” she sobbed in terror. Tears were freely running down her face but her hands were still clasped meekly in her lap. “My family is rich. My father owns a jewelry store in downtown Miami… He can pay you… Please… I can… I’ll do whatever you want…”

“Whatever I want?” He reloaded the clip into the gun, looked at her in disgust and sighed. “Your kind just never pay attention, April.”

She closed her eyes and sobbed one last time as the barrel was pointed at her head.






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