Fedday, Baugust 20 - Vegetal’s house
"Fine. Come in." said Vegetal. He turned to let the man into his home, unlocking and undoing the many different locks that were drilled into the door.
Birbladd sauntered in, almost floating like a ghost. There were no audible footsteps as he walked down the hallway. He… knew the way? Vegetal walked after him, floorboards creaking as one point three tons of metal hit them over and over again. Birbladd entered the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs, all while not making a single sound.
Who was this man?
Vegetal observed him quietly. Taller than any man he’d seen before, and with fingers so long and thin they looked more like claws. He couldn’t really place the mannerisms, either. They didn’t line up with any nationality that Vegetal had ever encountered. This… being was more creature than person.
"I couldn't tell you this in public, but I'm going to need your help,” Birbladd finally said. “If you would be so kind—"
“You need to tell me who you are and how you got here. I do have weapons in this house.” said Vegetal.
“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary,” replied Birbladd, turning his head to face Vegetal. His slim fingers danced on the tabletop. Silence. Vegetal wondered if something was wrong with his suit’s speakers, but realized that he could hear everything that he himself was doing. Vegetal remembered what happened earlier that month at the bookstore and decided it would be better to comply with the strange creature than to risk any further tension.
Vegetal looked at him and met the dark voids that were seemingly his eyes. “Okay, man. Whoever you are. I’ll listen. Just remember that I can fight back.”
“As I said, that won’t be necessary. Please calm yourself, you’re not going to be able to think properly with the values of stress that you’re experiencing as of right now.” Birbladd said. He stiffened up and tented his hands. "There is a project and you are invited." he finally said.
"What do you mean, 'project?'"
Birbladd shaked his head, the tip of his mask tracing a narrow arc in the air. "I can't tell you much unless you agree to join."
"What kind of rule is that?"
Birbladd’s void of eyes flared red.
"I seriously am considering setting you on fire right now," said Vegetal, backing up into the counter. He turned to reach for a set of knives hung up on the wall behind him.
Birbladd shifted in his seat, and clicked his fingers together, making a quick metallic noise. Weird. "Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" he said in a quiet voice. “Please, just listen, lad. I know that it’s all confusing and suspicious, but I am really running out of time.”
Vegetal stopped reaching for the knives. "You need to tell me right now what you did earlier and what you're doing here and how you even found my apartment in the first place." he said, standing up, pistons in his legs pumping him up to a higher than usual height.
"My fellow, sit down. I knew this would come up sooner or later, but here goes. I'll tell you… a portion of a story. My story.
"For one of my first years of university, back when I went, I studied at Birdbeak in Crondon. The experience was great, though the academic quality was somewhat lacking compared to what you can expect from Owlford or Cambirdje, two universities that I wanted to go to more than Birdeak. But as a student there was one thing I truly loved – the freedom to come and go from the course material and to attend lectures and seminars at will. This was a strange freedom coming from my background, a private school that was locked down so strictly it was practically a prison. Birdbeak also provided free food, which is always appreciated. How they funded that, I had no idea.
"I didn’t have many friends, as I am not one to make many. So I spent my days alone and in study. This was normal for me, and I enjoyed it immensely. I would spend my free hours in the library, browsing through the trove of books that the Birbeak Library had to offer. I gathered knowledge of many subjects, but none were so beautiful to me as the writings of the Old Skill, something so obscure there were only but three books on it.
“One of these books was The Art of the Old Skill by an author named L.A.S. There were no other indications to the author’s identity. This was by far the most complete book out of the three. I had it with me almost always.
“One afternoon, while sitting in the library, I was approached by another student, who was very well dressed. He introduced himself as ESM. and asked if he could borrow the Art of the Old Skill for a couple weeks. He said he’d been looking for it for quite a while and didn’t know that it was already in possession. While I’m not in a position to say that ESM was simply lying about having searched for the book for so long, I do think it’s unlikely. ESM was the only student I knew who had shown an interest in the Old Skill, let alone known about it.
“From that point onward we became great friends, discussing our interests together. While our other interests did not align as such, our friendship was mainly comprised of discussing the Old Skill.
“ESM is the organizer of this project. He’s a very old friend of mine. You can trust him.”
“I… I’m not sure that I can trust you.” replied Vegetal wearily. He relaxed his pistons and slid down to normal height. ‘Why… did you tell me so much?”
“In time. I will tell you more, eventually. It’s necessary, I think. As can be observed, lad, I don’t want to do this. If I put it simple, maybe you will know the severity of the situation. Our entire city, Vile, is in danger. You’ve been selected to join us in our project. It is dangerous, but not all of it. I’m hoping that you can help us.”
“What exactly is the danger that Vile is in?” said Vegetal.
There have been some… anomalies around this city."
"What are they?"
"I'm afraid that's classified. Like I said, you have to join, uh, waiver your rights and such."
Birbladd waved his hand and a yellow mist appeared in the center of the room, spreading in the air like an oil spill. Out of it came a paper. A contract. Vegetal felt a tingle in his jar and bitterness along his metal suit. He reluctantly got up and went to the center of the room. Looking at it floating there, it seemed foreboding. He grabbed the paper with some effort. It was stuck there, like it was taped.
The yellow mist spread, tendrils reaching toward the paper, but never touching it.
"Could you please stop the fog?" said Vegetal.
"I'm afraid not… legalities and such. It shouldn't be much of a bother." Birbladd said offhandedly. He was looking through a window straight outside, craning his neck to see as wide of a view as he could.
"If I refuse to sign this contract, what would happen?"
Birbladd looked back at Vegetal, eyes flaring red again. "I would likely be fired."
"I don't really have that much of a choice here."
"Mhmmm…" Birbladd was looking back through the window.
Vegetal signed the contract. Waiving of rights, sanity, insurance, everything was there. It didn't really matter all that much. It was dying, he was dying, and he knew it. The world would end. He didn't care. The sun would ignite, the planet would ignite, the skies would burn down, anything. It didn't matter. His metal hand was already going in the motion of making his signature without him thinking.
What would ignite?
“Listen…” whispered Vegetal as he traced his signature along the toned paper.
An odd sensation of a tingling sensation came over the right side of his neck, like a light warm breeze was passing though his body. Then… nothing. As if nothing happened. He eyed the paper. His signature. How did it get there?
"Excellent." said Birbladd as soon as Vegetal was finished filling the form. He clenched his hand, and pulled in towards his body, as if pulling an invisible rope. The contract jerked out of Vegetal’s hands and floated to the center of the room again. All of the mist collapsed towards the contract, sealing it in yellow smoke, and it disappeared.
"Straight to ESM…" muttered Birbladd as he stood up, still looking through the window.
A crow landed on the windowsill outside. And another. And another. All of them with what seemed to be a piece of chalk in their beaks.
"Ah. Seems like it's already starting." said Birbladd.
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