The Broken Promises Issue

Two in one issue: A warrior encounters a mimic. Mayfly ponders his relationship with Punkie.

Oak, Iron, and Drool

Ahh, the mimic. A shapeshifting creature capable of taking on the properties of wood, stone, and metal. A clever being that, after noting the broad spectrum that is human greed, determined its best plan for finding nourishment is to find a dungeon (or other known adventurer magnet), use its abilities to shift into the form of a treasure chest, and wait until some hapless moron poor explorer got too curious for their own good. Once the human got close enough, the mimic strikes by lashing out with a toothy maw and stretchy appendages.

Oh, here comes one now!

Lisa the Brave looked around the dungeon corridor, thankful she had inherited her dwarven grandfather’s low-light vision. She spotted the treasure chest in a corner and sighed in relief. Perhaps the evil wizard was an idiot and left his coffers out in the open. She imagined the sweet loot she’d find—weapons, money, spell components, accessories—surely something to help her in her quest!

She stepped forward, her foot splashing in a large puddle. Strange. Her gaze roamed around the halls. No leaks. No obvious sources of moisture. Then she noticed the puddle was more of a tiny rivulet that led back to the chest and…

She huffed. An exorbitant amount of drool was pouring out of the so-called storage container. Shaking her head, she pulled an enchanted ring from her pocket and approached the chest. As she got closer, she watched it quaked in anticipation, drumming a manic beat on the stone floor that anyone would have seen coming.

She paused, feigning suspicion. The chest stilled. Bracing herself, she took another step forward.

The chest jumped at her, to absolutely nobody’s everyone’s surprise!

She side-stepped and grabbed the creature’s outstretched tongue. The mimic landed in its own drool, sliding forward until its tongue was stretched to its limit.

Lisa’s face scrunched at the creature’s foul breath before she threaded the soft muscle through the ring in her other hand.

“Let’s see how you like the Ring of a Thousand Imaginary Cuts, you little twerp.” The ring was often used in training knights to resist torture. Though, to be fair, what are the odds that the mimic’s central nervous system is anything like—

The mimic screeched, its entire body vibrating and changing textures, though no matter what, its tongue remained in Lisa’s grasp.

“Stop! I beg of you!” the mimic said through a second, newly-formed mouth. “It’s like getting ground to sawdust!”

Surprised, Lisa let go, the ring popping off and falling at her feet.

“You can speak?”

“The wizard taught us,” said the mimic, its joints creaking and groaning.

“The evil wizard? He educated you?”

Lisa could feel the piercing glare of the mimic, though she couldn’t find eyes to look into.

“Yeah? He taught us soon after subjugating us. It’s way easier to threaten something once it can understand you.”

“‘Us?’ There’s more of you?”

“Between you and me, about a third of the chests and crates here are not chests and crates. I only tell you this because I don’t want you using that thing on anyone else.”

“So he captured and forced you all to do his bidding?”

The chest’s lid opened and closed. Lisa somehow knew that was meant to be a nod. “We have an agreement. He always keeps a couple of us captive and makes us promise to obey his command or else. He hasn’t specified what that last bit is but confirmed it’d involve—” it shuddered, “—cutting, chiseling, and melting.”

Lisa nodded. “How about I make you a new deal?”

---

The wizard was relaxing in his chambers, adorned in silk robes and fluffy slippers. He was more than ready to go to bed after a long day of wrongdoing and transgressing.

Suddenly, his door was kicked open. There stood Lisa, a gleaming shortsword in one hand and a sturdy shield in the other. She was clad in polished steel armor, and looming above her was the head of a great axe strapped to her back. A trusty dagger was sheathed at her side.

“Gerald the Malevolent, prepare to die for the good of the kingdom and all of its citizens.”

Gerald could only stare as all of Lisa’s equipment simultaneously grew large tongues and blew raspberries at him.

“Come closer. I am full of shinies and DEFINITELY do not bite.” (Photo by Ashin K Suresh on Unsplash)

---

Note: The story below probably works as a standalone, but will read better if you’ve read On Golden Wings first.

What She Would Have Wanted

Mayfly hauled the body onto the table, shoving files and gadgets out of the way. He paced, trying to will his breath to stay steady while running blood-covered fingers through his hair.

Malady followed him into the cavern, nodding at the carefully carved and reinforced stone walls. “This is quite the headquarters. I’m sure nobody thought to check a hole in the outskirts of town for two bug-themed sparks.”

Mayfly stopped his pacing and turned to her. “Be quiet! I need to think!” He dug his fingernails into his arms and stalked back toward the body. What to do… what to do?

Malady hummed. “You shouldn’t speak to me that way. Not when you need me. Or have you forgotten that your mentor has friends who will be looking for her?”

“I know that!” Mayfly said, staring at her dark face and the bold black streaks that framed her yellow irises. Even before meeting her, his dreams were haunted by those eyes. Tired, he sat on the cold floor by the desk, bringing his knees to his chest. He ignored the limp arm dangling from it. “What do you suggest I do?”

Malady kneeled beside him. “Grab a sharp implement and slice the wings off your former mentor. Then clean yourself up and pack a bag with your necessities. Once you’re ready to leave, we’ll get rid of the vessel.” The words left her chapped lips flitted into his ears and skin, causing them to prickle.

“You want me to cut off her wings?”

She nodded. “We have a use for them. But not the rest.”

He shook his head frantically. “We can’t just get rid of an entire body!” He looked down at his stained hands. “There’s blood everywhere.”

“Foolish boy,” Malady said. “Contagia guides us. Every plague and illness is biological at its root. Who better to help us destroy organic evidence than the Corrupter of Flesh Herself?”

“I think… I’m going to pass out. Can’t you do it for me?”

Malady tilted her head slightly, eyes peering upward, as though someone loomed above them and spoke. Mayfly looked up but felt and heard nothing. He watched as she stood and walked away, the drab gossamer fabric of her tattered skirt flowing behind her. Despite how dirty it looked, it was immaculate compared to his current state.

She came back with a rusted hacksaw. He gulped. In an unusual case of absentmindedness, Sawbones had left it, and Punkie hadn’t had a chance to return it yet. He’d seen the healer hero crudely treat the worst injuries with that thing, and now he was to use it to defile a corpse? And how did Malady even know where to find it?

“Does it have to be with that?” he asked, wincing at his whiny tone. “Do I really have to leave?” is what he didn’t dare ask.

“I’m afraid it’s what Contagia wants.” She held the saw out, handle toward him. Mayfly’s shaky hand reached out and grabbed it. Before he could pull away, Malady’s free, leathery hand clasped his. “Contagia, please uncloud his mind long enough to complete Your will.” Mayfly couldn’t help but feel like there was an implied “and get us out of here soon.”

Nonetheless, he could feel his body stop shaking. His skin felt sticky from blood, but no longer clammy. Decay did not feel like it was breathing down his neck and filling his nostrils.

He stood and looked at his dead mentor once more.

He’d planted her on the desk facedown. A nasty gash ran down her spine where he’d impaled her. She was foolish to let her guard down around him. Probably thought he didn’t have it in him to betray her. Or… maybe she’d actually trusted him…

---

Punkie puffed on her cigarette, watching the sunset from the top of an apartment building. She held it out to Mayfly, who clenched his teeth and took the roll. Last time he’d declined, mentioning childhood asthma, she'd rolled her eyes and been in a mood the rest of the evening. He took a quick drag, coughed, and handed it back.

“Why do you want to be a hero, Vinnie?”

He wasn’t sure what caught him more off guard: the question itself or the casual use of his name. “What?”

Her eyes darted to him before looking away again. Her mask did nothing to hide the quick burst of ire, though it quickly dissipated. “You heard me.”

He knew “well, you kind of dragged me out of the foster system and told me this is what I was doing” wasn’t going to be a good response. So he took a moment to think. “This city... it's really the only place I know as home. I never had much, but what I do have, I owe to it. To the people in the system. To you, too. I just… want to do right by everyone.”

Minutes passed. The city’s traffic echoed between them.

“Promise me something, kid.”

“Yeah?”

“When I die, keep flying for the both of us. Say you’ll keep putting all that equipment we have to good use and fight to keep the city safe.”

“Wh-what?”

“Don’t act surprised. I don’t exactly have a line of bug-winged proteges to pick from. You’re all I got. And… you’ve been pretty okay. With a little more practice, you’ll even be good.”

His eyes watered, and it wasn't due to cigarette smoke this time. “Thanks, Punkie. I promise I’ll be in it for the long haul.”

“Good, man.”

---

Mayfly stared at the cavern’s entrance, lost in thought. Malady closed the trunk of the truck they’d stolen, Punkie’s wings neatly folded in canvas and stored away.

“Get in the vehicle. We need to talk about what you’ll tell the media.”

Mayfly nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be returning to the hideout. Yes, he'd break his promise, but maybe Punkie wasn't worth making it in the first place.

That was for him to figure out another day.

Fact in Fiction

Hello! In case you missed it, the first poll ended in a tie. And since I didn’t feel like breaking it, I decided to do both stories. I’m sure this is what you all wanted, so you rigged it in your favor. Tricky readers…😉

Anyway, I was really interested in the possibility of a mimic story. I didn’t have a clear idea of where to run with it when I first generated it, but like many gamers, I find the monster-disguised-as-a-treasure-chest trope to be amusing, so I was hoping it’d get some traction.

While I generally don’t care to write from the omniscient point of view, where the narrator is a separate, all-knowing character, it’s nice to do so once in a while. “Oak, Iron, and Drool” felt like a good place to inject a bit of the Lemony Narrator trope and ham things up.

And then, of course, “On Golden Wings” is still pretty fresh on my mind, so how can I not write a prequel to it and develop Mayfly’s relationship with Punkie some more? I also felt Malady didn’t get as much development as I would have liked, so I was glad to bring her back. Sprinkle in a couple of world-building details, and I’m pleased to add another story to what I’m currently calling the Power Play universe. Let me know if you have an opinion on how often we revisit it. I don’t want it to overtake Quick as a Flash, but I am very open to adding to stories that warrant it for one reason or another.

What's Next?

Read both polls before voting! You’ll notice the choices are the same for both parts. If the same choice gets the highest number of votes in both polls, I will use it for Part 1 and use the second-highest answer for part 2.