Hector Chase

He paced and panted. Adrenal and fear still rushing through his veins. It was over, but there was nothing to do with this emotional surge or the manic energy. Running, attacking, and blocking all over the place before the battle was just done. Trapped in a forever before being jerked into a halt. Nothing felt over to him. His heart pummeling to escape. Sweat pouring unrelentingly. Hector began to worry he was having a panic attack. The battlefield dread lingered and even the corpse of The Titan wasn’t a relieving sight. An illusion of movement caused by the dusting process caused a part of him to howl with concern.

The shield-bearer searched for a place to sit down and relax. Anywhere to take a moment to himself. Nowhere. The ground was jagged and flaky. Not one spot looked safe to sit nor clean. Blue blood residue and azure fungus were splattered everywhere. Hector paced and paced, looked and looked. Nowhere to sit, no place to breathe. The world darkened and narrowed. Wheezing erased all other sounds as everything began to twirl.

Then Phelain was there.

“Haha! We did it!” exclaimed the arisen warrior. “Wait, Hec, you ok?”

Hector’s love placed their warm hands on each cheek to turn his head so that the two of them were looking at each other eye to eye. Calm blue hypnotized him instantly. The worry written across Phelain’s face struck him happy. His view stayed narrowed on that precious other, but the darkness faded before the light. Panic drained quickly from the shield-bearer’s heart.

“Hey, Hector, talk to me! You’re worrying me, sweetheart!

He smiled, feeling free and reminded, “Yes, sorry Phelain. I sorta lost myself for a moment… my nerves were shot.”

“Yeah, that was a pretty brutal fight,” replied Phelain, the grin not quite matching his words. “Did ya see how Julia just cut that things head clean off? Impressive!”

“Yes, heart,” sighed Hector. “I’m just glad it's over… well for now. Until I saw you, the fight didn’t feel over at all…”

“Another panic attack?” frowned the arisen warrior. “I wish I had found you sooner… But The Titan is dead! Means we’re going up! How exciting is that?”

“About as exciting as the knowledge that we’ll just be facing a whole new breed of monsters,” answered Hector sourly.

In a tone that expressed both sarcasm and their own excitement, Phelian retorted, “Sure, we got ninety-nine more floors of this, but we survived one! Already! That's a good start.”

“I know you love this life… I don’t know if it's for me. The nightmares just get worse every time I step out here… One day I might not be able to go out again.”

“And if that happens, I would understand,” assured his love. “We all would. Take a break if you need to. The Sixty are in The Pit together. You should know by now, they’re a pretty good bunch.

Hector clenched his teeth, feeling unheard. “That is nice to hear. It is Phelain, but I don’t feel like you're hearing me. We fought a giant ass man rat thing and I never wanted to do that. Not in real life! This is all mad! There have been times when I wanted to escape my life. Go fucking anywhere to get away from everything. I hated my life and myself. Got my fucking wish though. Escaped! Now I have a clear memory of being torn apart by an undead rat… This isn’t what I wanted! I don’t want to fight monsters…”

“Ahh…” slumped Phelain, his expression thoughtful and his eyes dull as positivity fled. “That sucks. I don’t know what to say to that. What do you want me to say to that? I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time over this. I really am. This is it though… This is our life until the Sky. If you need a break, or have to bow out… I told you, I would understand. We all would understand, but there’s no getting around the monsters. Someone still needs to fight and I’m always going to be one of those who does. I hope you’ll be with me too.”

“As… as long as I can,” said Hector with a strained smile. “I’m just scared.”

“Me too, Hec,” shared Phelain.

“Liar!” chuckled Hector despite himself.

“Ok, a little bit, well, sometimes,” bargained the arisen warrior. “Look, I don’t want to demean your feelings. Speaking to people isn’t my thing. Never been good at it. That aside… I want you to know that I’m here for you regardless of what you choose”

“Thanks, Phelain,” responded Hector. Sighing he added, “It doesn’t make the dread go away, but you listened. Sometimes that is all I need. To get it out of me so I can breathe again. Think Malachi will call for a break before checking out the next level? Give us a few days?”

“Maybe, it seems the sorta thing he would do,” replied Phelain mildly.

“Not a fan? Already ready for the next fight?”

Phelian raised his hand flat and wiggled. “Ehhh, I could go either way. If we have a party, then he’s got my vote for the break.”

“Of course, more cookies and punch,” said Hector as he rolled his eyes.

“I thought it was pretty good.” His love scratched his cheek shyly.

“It was nice,” allowed the shield-bearer. “Worked with our low core count, but hopefully we can do better next time. Some wine and cheese would be a nice change from rations. Cookies are better than those tasteless rations. Some kind of fowl would be wonderful. Pheasant preferably, but chicken could…”

“Well, neither of us can have any of that yet,” said Phelain as he cut into Hector’s food dreams. “The battle is over, but there is stuff to do before we can go.”

“Ok, let’s see what chores the Council has for us,” shrugged Hector.

There was plenty to do as Phelain thought.

Cores to inspect, confirming the chamber was monsterless, and confirming the dead. That last was harder than it would be in the Hall. There were no bodies to count. Only equipment to gather up. This resulted in the taxing chore of matching everything for a number. Clothes and armor bundled up with weapons all stacked in a row. It evoked the image of gravestones to Hector. He felt a little nauseous doing the sorting, the morbidity of the moment chilling him. The thread of gladness at not being related to one of those bundles was the worst part.

“Eighteen?” asked Malachi when he walked up to Hector. The two of them, side by side, looked over the same dreadful scene.

“Yes,” the shield-bearer agreed reluctantly. He felt the sadness coming from the other man.

“Damn. That fits the count of who is still walking. I was hoping it was somehow off.”

“Afraid not,” swallowed Hector.

“Too costly,” muttered Malachi. To him, the sword acolyte said, “Thanks for taking charge of this. Even if they are waiting for us down below, I doubt that makes this job any easier. It should, but wouldn’t for me.”

“O’ sure, no problem,” he offered, a little flustered. Praise never settled well on Hector's shoulders. “I guess, at least we won…”

“That’s something,” agreed Malachi politely. Their mutual look said it wasn’t worth much. That was the attitude that made Hector like the leader of the Sixty. He might not quite trust him, but the sword acolyte mourned every time something went wrong. Never tried to spread the blame. It was a good sign. He hoped the wariness would fade. A lingering instinct from seeing too many good old boys charm their way into honors. Some expectations were hard to escape. Especially the toxic ones it seemed like to him.

“Malachi, did Hector confirm my estimation?” asked Molly as she joined. The cool look in her eyes somehow made the current mix of warrior and secretary on display work well together. Battleworn marks stood out as she hovered a pen over a pristine notebook as if magically produced. The acolyte of curses politely nodded, but her attention wasn’t on him.

“It’s confirmed,” sighed Malachi. “I’ll see the list now…”

She handed over the notebook. Hector snuck a look.

Warner Papadopoulos

Vincent Salvador

Zachariah Law

Roseline Jones

Amiyah Kazmi

Evelyn Merritt

Nicholas Vargas

Lola Moss

Adrian Cooper

Francisco Fox

Daisey Solomon

Porsha Harrell

Dorothy Roth

Adrienne Rowe

Carlo Valencia

Megan Dawson

Stanley Blake

Norah Ward

It was a sobering sight to see just a plain list of names and know the significance. Eighteen names, eighteen deaths. A count of people that had used one of their safeties against permanent demise. Hector looked away pale. Malachi continued to look stonily down at the list. Eyes scouring up and down. Memorizing or praying them away.

Passing the notebook back, the leader of the Sixty said, “Alright.”

Molly waited for a beat more, but nothing further came. A frown flashed and then was gone. Carefully, she nudged the conversation. “Should we send runners to bring them up? I imagine they would like to see the golden door open.”

“They deserve that moment,” confirmed Malachi, but added, “Let’s hold off on that though. Julia told me her group confirmed the Lair is empty, but we haven’t looked behind the Throne yet.”

Hector couldn’t help looking at the gnash in the wall where the false sun stung the eyes. The smooth stone before the hole did look like a royal seat. Monstrous one, but a throne nonetheless. Phelain stood there with Rueben, both looking eager to explore the unknown. His heart saw him looking and grinned. Throwing a thumb behind them, the arisen warrior asked if the shield-bearer would like to join. Shaking his hands and head, he communicated a clear denial. The man only rolled his eyes in response.

“That doesn’t seem an efficient use of time,” broached the cool-eyed woman with a flat stare. “There isn’t any reason to delay bringing them up while that path is explored.”

Malachi hesitated.

“It will be safe. Do you have any reason to believe there is anything as powerful as The Titan in there? Even if there is, the way is narrow enough for an easy defense.”

“Sigh, do it your way,” conceded the bearded man. “That list is going to haunt me for a while. Pick out a decent escort. Last thing we need right now is that Pale Thing showing up. At least we won’t have to transport their equipment down if they’re coming up here.”

“I’ll see it done,” replied Molly, not with cheer, but in a pleased tone. “I imagine you will be going yourself into that tunnel?”

“Yeah, no reason for anyone else to take a risk today. Phelain and Rueben aside. They wouldn’t allow me to keep them out of it anyways.”

“I am sure you will keep them in line,” nodded Molly before departing.

“So, Hector, want to come along?” asked Malach suddenly.

The engagement was unexpected. He had only stayed through a mixture of curiosity and awkwardness. Felt weird to walk away from an active conversation even one he had no part in. “O! No, that’s entirely Phelain’s sort of thing. I’m sure he’ll give me run down no doubt.”

“Cool, enjoy the breather,” shrugged the sword acolyte. “Good work today.”

Hector felt a little annoyed at the warmth that ran through him at the compliment. Great to be acknowledged, but he knew that Malachi was about the same age. It seemed weird to respect the good opinion of a man he knew only a month and in the strangest of places. In the end, the shield-bearer let it sink away. Just another conflict between his disposition and reality since arriving here.

Maybe I’m just too worried, wondered Hector. I should be like Phelain… excited… well maybe not that extreme, but I could try enjoying the perks. Magic is real, but you can be torn up by monsters...

He fell into contemplation as three explorers climbed up the worn stone throne and disappeared into the blinding light. The issue was, Hector felt, that he simply didn’t know how to be happy. Of the few grand gestures of his life, kissing Phelain after their mutual deaths had been the biggest. Sadly that too had been driven by fear. A terror born of staring into oblivion and realizing that he had never allowed himself, romantic love. Social and family pressure had forced the shield-bearer to hide his identity. Shallow short nights of hidden pleasure. Never any real intimacy to be had, or risked.

Yet, in this place. In the darkest and most dangerous place he had ever experienced, Hector could feel free. Though, only if he let himself. The evidence that the same contempt no longer choked the air was all around him. From that first kiss to several smaller moments, no one batted an eye. It was almost insulting to him how casual they accepted the showing of his affection. A lifetime of repression had built the expectation of something big being kicked off. Celebration or a riot, either would seem right.

Instead, there were only smiles or chuckles at the sight of love between two men. Someone looking away was the worst Hector saw and he later learned it was because PDA wasn’t something they were comfortable with. The ease whichPhelain and he were accepted was almost troubling. It created a paranoid feeling that it couldn’t be real. That the laughter and pain were just held back. Saved up for the right, terrible moment.

“But, that’s just more bullshit,” grumbled Hector. His eyes closed in frustration as the self-loathing swirled around in his mind like black sand in the wind. “These are good people and nothing bad is going to happen. I’m not going to get stoned to death or anything… Here I am grousing over the same fears for no reason. There are some very real things in here worth worrying about.”

“And, and I have fought those bastards and won! I can be better than this… I will be better! What’s the point of being miserable now? I don’t have friends and family here that would turn my world upside down if they knew. I have Phelain and the others. I could be happy if I let myself!”

Feeling energized by his revelation, Hector made promises and vows. Sacred ones to himself. Oaths he truly meant to keep, this time. A new vision of the future spanned ahead of him. The shield-bearer was feeling excited, even under the shadow cast by monsters. There might be horrors waiting by the path, but the road was golden. Worth the trial.

Especially if I try, he thought. Choosing happiness is new and scary… but denying the choice never made anything better. That was a lie I should never have believed.

He looked up into the horrible false sun and ignored the unclean feeling on his skin. Hector wanted to catch the first sight of Phelain that could be had. To see his love and declare his new perspective to him. When three figures stumbled into view, the hopeful words died on his lips. Descending from the light, their skin was revealed pale and sickly. The shield-bearer’s hand jerked to his sword as a hysterical thought of zombie flashed in his head.

Seeing Phelain’s distraught eyes calmed him some, too humanly aware to be undead. Hector strode to his side and saw Julia do the same thing with Malachi. Each skipping steps to get to the one they cared most for. The two of them spoke out in unison, “What happened?”

“Mothers…” grimaced Phelain.

“Cannibals…” spat Malachi.

Unprompted, Reuben added, “An unholy mess.” The scout stared through the ceiling.

“What? I don’t understand,” pressed Hector as Julia calmly asked, “Can you explain?”

“We found where all the little ratlings come from,” sickly grinned the arisen warrior.

The sword acolyte added, “It’s worse than it sounds. Alien is the nicest word I can think of to explain it. Disturbing is just an opening description. Ratsins spawners devouring the cocooned ones like overripe tomatoes. Tubes and tentacles, one for births and the other for feeding. Horrible, horrible and abominable.”

“Burn it,” cut in Reuben. “Have Allen light a fire and burn that all the fuck down!”

Conflicted, Phelian’s face crumbled as he asked, “Should we? Don’t we need the cores from the Ratsins to survive?”

Reuben violently waved that away. “Fuck it, there’s a surplus and we’ll figure out the next floor in enough time.”

“That’s short-sighted,” sighed Malachi. “But I also don’t like the idea of leaving it… as is. That shouldn’t exist. We’ll burn it. If Jorgenson stokes and Leon contains… that should turn it all to ash.”

Hector and Phelain found a place to the side to watch all the activity. The three acolytes were brought to the opening and went to work. Leon molded a special barrier so that the other two could send their power through, but the effect would be contained within. Jorgenson summoned her power, slanting it more towards wind pressure to bellow in strength than to electrify. Taking a deep breath, Allen poured a constant plume of flame. Air and fire combined and roared together to greater heights.

The first effect was the false sun dimmed and faded as the source burned up. Black smoke swirled against Leon’s barrier. Next the inhuman screams. Beastial cries of panic and pain. They were muffled, but the high tone pierced through enough to be audible. Finally, as the shrieks grew, the world began to shake. Something thrashed and shrieked. Still, the acolytes fueled their magics.

By the time the shaking and screams died down, the rest of the Sixty had arrived. The assault was maintained for a long moment to silence and stillness. An extra effort to confirm everything was ash. All three were exhausted as they escaped down the rugged throne. Soon as the barrier dropped there was a great outpouring of black smoke. It streamed quickly to the ceiling far from them. There were a few concerns about breathing, but mostly it was that the smell was foul. That was strangely pleasant. Confirmation that something wrong was burnt away.

Now finished with the Giant’s Lair, everyone began to pack up. The Sixty was now going to try to pass through the Golden Door.

Hector remembered his oath and the desire to speak of it to his love. He turned to Phelain and said, “I’m going to choose to be happy now.”

The golden-haired man looked confused, but smiled as he replied, “Good!”