Dissonance 16 – Living beneath the Manhole [Otto POV]

Otto bounced his foot, the pounding of his heel on the floor mismatching the electric jazz beat of the video playing on the large screen usually reserved for replays of sports events.

“Look at that half-ogre Otto

With the strength of ten bulls

Squeezin' heads into meatballs

Living beneath the Manhole.”

The singer on the screen wore a nice suit, as did his bandmates. They were a simple assortment: a dark-skinned human, a gnome and an elf. Together, they formed the electric jazz band that had dared put this song together.

“Oh Otto

Wipes his hand on his suit

Oh Otto

He's never alone in pursuit

Oh Otto

A greasy man.”

Otto’s left eye twitched. He turned his head to growl at the stupid orc henchman that dared actually tap his foot to the beat. The disloyal cuck would get a beating in due time.

“The petty king of Downtown

All the brains he can splatter

All the maids he does batter

And he's still in debt to a clown.”

The half-ogre’s eyes swept through the rafters of the bar. It was a deliberately old-time structure, erected more with brick and hardwood than concrete and glass. Ceiling fans spun leisurely, dispersing cigar smoke. The occasional puffs of the clients were the only sound besides the swing of the song.

“Oh Otto

What does he have in his coat?

Oh Otto

Old sandwiches and yellow notes

Oh Otto

A greasy, stinking man.”

Otto shot up from his seat. The stool first slammed against the bar, adding a new scar to the battered, dark wood, then clattered to the floor. His uneven teeth hurt as he ground them against each other.

“Oh

Though his muscles and belly are thick

All the bravado is just a big trick

Otto, Half-Ogre, Half-Mouse

Never alone leaves his house.”

Each step of the half-ogre made the wooden floor creak. Three men, a dark-skinned human, a gnome and an elf, had been stripped down to their undergarments. Arms bound, ankles tied, they could only watch wide-eyed as the petty king of Downtown approached them.

“Oh Otto

Never known a fair fight

Oh Otto

Runs even from lantern light

Oh Otto

A greasy, stinking, craven man.”

The upbeat music was a stark contrast to the repeated snapping of bones and squelching of flesh. Panicked screams were lost to the cloth gagging the two men as they watched their bandleader get stomped into a pulp by the maddened half-ogre. Their panic did not last for long. The Cultivator continued to stomp and stomp and stomp until three people were reduced to a single mass.

Heavily breathing, Otto looked left, then right. No one was swaying along to the beat anymore. The music petered out. Then, the autoplay made it restart. Otto conjured a fist-sized rock from his Core, then launched it at the screen with supernatural might. It struck the crystal base, shattering it instantly. The speaker system died. A new hole was torn into the wall above the entrance.

“Fix that!” Otto bellowed, then stepped away from the mess he had made. Of the dozen people in the industrial bar, all but one began to move. Only the barwoman remained put, her eyes glued to the three corpses in the middle of her bar. Her face was pale, all blood drained out of it from the shock. “Get with it!” The half-ogre growled at her. “Booze! Now!”

“Y-yes!” The woman squealed. The neon sign behind her spelled out the name of the bar: ‘The Manhole’.

The previous owner had named it. Otto had kept it because he found it amusing. It added a certain flair to the bar. It really had been a shame that the guy decided to step up to the alpha. Replacing him with a dainty elf wench at least was easier on the eyes.

She knew to just give him the entire bottle of booze when he was pissed off. He ripped it out of her hands. One of his sharp nails cut open the wrist of the woman. She yelped in pain. “Oh, grow up!” Otto barked at her, then headed for the staircase. It led down into the small underground complex. “And don’t any of you leave without my permission!”

“”Yes, boss!”” it thundered from all corners of the bar.

Otto unscrewed the bottle as he walked down the brick stairs. He kicked open the heavy steel door at the bottom. Just as he was about to pour the heavy liquor down his gullet, the bottle suddenly dropped from his grasp. It bounced off the thick carpet, then spilled its contents onto it. Otto cursed and stepped on over to pick it up. The door fell shut behind him with an echoing slam.

Immediately, Otto straightened up again. The spilling booze was all but forgotten. His heartbeat spiked. His breathing accelerated. He looked around his base of operations with rapidly moving eyes. Pinball machines, workout equipment, a boxing ring, couches, beds, and carpets had all been moved into the underground chamber. This main room was only one of many. The adjacent corridors that would have led into the private quarters were entirely in shadows. The overhead lights struggled to create more than a few cones of insufficient light.

“I don’t know why you got so offended by that song.”

Otto spun around. “Show yourself!” he shouted, his voice trembling.

“Just calm down a bit, moron.”

Otto tried, but the oppressive presence pushed down on him all the same. His heavy chest was working against his need to pull more air into his lungs. Sweat soaked into his yellow-stained white shirt.

“See, this is why I don’t know why you get that angry about it… ah, wait, was your problem that they said you were only half a mouse?” A sudden burst of shrill laughter echoed in the room. It ended with a sharp whistle. “Over here, Otto!”

Otto turned to a random corner of the room. All he saw was darkness.

“Focus! I’m not even trying to Shatter your reality, so stop being so pathetic.”

The half-ogre gulped. First, he saw two dots in the darkness. One was blue, the other red, and neither was steady. They moved like distant ghost light in a fog. Smearing and blurring, they crept upwards as he calmed his pulse further. The colours soaked into the halves of the woman’s hair, leaving white and black heterochromia in their absence.

The clown was gorgeous. Otto knew she was and he hated her for it. Women were for pinning down and having fun with, not for staring up at him with a smug sense of superiority. Ignoring his opinion, this female did exactly that. Pink lips in an unnaturally pale face beheld him with almost a degree of pity. Otto wasn’t sure if he hated that more than the smugness or not. Two tear-shaped, black marks under her eyes worked with the colours to put together the look of a harlequin without a drop of makeup.

Body wise, she wasn’t that interesting. Moderate proportions in both chest and hips, attractive without having a proper amount of meat. An office worker’s combination of white shirt and black pants covered her up a fair bit. Little shame as Otto had, his eyes did not linger on her curves nor on the colourless collarbones she was putting on display. He was too worried about the red claws. They weren’t nails that grew from the last segments of her blue hands but rather natural, curving continuations of that final joint of each digit.

[Harlequin Lady AI: https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/720fc03b2db4.png ]

“L-lady Carnivella…”

“I chose so poorly with you-“ The grinning clown’s finger tapped against the armrest of the leather chair she was sat in. Leisurely, she tilted to the side, resting her face a little more comfortably on her knuckles. White and black eyes focused on him. Otto knew she was considering if she should just dispatch of him. “Every time I check around here, you’re piling on more bodies.”

“A-and?” Otto squeaked.

“HAH! You really sound like a mouse!”

‘I fucking hate this clown chick,’ he growled in his mind. The deep, masculine voice inside his skull came out as meek and subservient when it left his mouth. “I-if you say so…”

“I do.” The tapping of her claw against the armrest continued on. Despite how gentle the gesture was, Otto could feel it reverberated in his ribcage each and every time. “Seriously though, would it kill you to be a little less hyper-incompetent? If you can’t stop killing because it’s wrong, can you at least stop killing because it’s going to put targets on your back?”

“I-I’ll keep it under advisement…”

“See that you do, shit heel.” The smug smirk disappeared as a long sigh left her. “You’re going to blow my cover with your fat mouth. Urgh, whatever. I need you to do something for me. My boss gave me orders and you’re going to help me with them.”

Otto just swallowed. He had no idea who exactly he was working for, he had never asked. His erudite mind had, of course, worked out the hidden schemes at work. Vexora Carnivella acted on the behest of a corporation that either was part of or contracted to a Great One’s influence network. He had been chosen due to his talent, good breeding and intellect to be one of the rooks to be positioned for the day the Ever-Rain portal collapsed.

“Whatever you need, Lady Carnivella!” he assured her. “I am your humble servant.”

“You’re my moronic pawn is what you are,” she groaned.

A test of his will, like she always enacted when she came down here. He simply kept his head low and waited for her to elaborate.

“There’s a guy – Eldred, I am certain you remember him?”

“The cheater?”

“…Yeah… the cheater…” she drawled, slowly. She must have been as confused by his ability to trick Echo itself as he was. “My order is to make sure no talent unaffiliated with us gets off the ground. So, I just sent him on a little mission. We’re going to follow him there. You and your men will rough him up a bit so I can make my offer.”

Otto was interested in the way she said that. “Your offer? But… he already has a Core, right?”

“Yeah, unlike you, he didn’t need help with that,” Vexora rolled her eyes. “There’s an altar in that temple that will be of interest to his ambitious sort. I’ll give him access to it in return for his loyalty. If he refuses… well, then I have to kill him.” She let out a long sigh. “Just what the boss wants.”

The half-ogre was only half listening anymore. It would be way better if he got that power, right? Otto was way more ambitious and braver than the cheating beta male who constantly needed female affirmations. ‘If it’s a Tumbling Temple that has something for the ambitious, then…’ he was starting to formulate a plan in his mind. Now, if he could make sure Eldred refused or, better yet, kill him before Vexora talked to him at all...

“You understand?”

“Yes!” Otto responded firmly. He was going to make this work! “No need for you to tag along, Lady Carnivella! I will be your most astute diplomat on this!”

“The fuck you will be. You are going to do what I tell you and nothing else.” The harlequin woman jumped to her feet. Standing, she barely reached Otto’s shoulders. Something about the renewed grin on her lips was predatory. “If he denies me, I kill him, if he plays coy, you rough him up, if he accepts…” she trailed off. “…you – will – see.”

Otto felt a shiver run down his spine. Suddenly, he wasn’t so certain anymore about wanting to be part of this.

Vexora gave him no opportunity to back out. She walked towards the door, the colour of her hair shifting back into her eyes. Skin turned from inhuman white to a human level of pale. She appeared now like an attractive, human brunette. “We need to get going now. The upstart has enough of a lead already.”

The steel door opened. The sound of thunder rolled down the staircase. It was a rare sound here in Downtown. Weather in Iridescia seldomly made sense, the lingering magics of the acquired soil causing the area to often mimic the weather of the home area rather than obey any local air movements. Downtown was usually a bit humid and warm.

Right now, a heavy rain drummed on the ceiling.

The other members of Otto’s gang didn’t even comment on Vexora leading Otto up the stairs. They knew better than to ask who she was and they certainly knew better than to ask who was in charge. Otto would have anyone who did violently beaten once the clown was out of their base.

“We’re going to crack a skull,” he told them all, then pointed at his four favourite henchmen one after another. “You. You. You and you! Come along.”

“”Yes, boss!”” they answered with the proper level of obedience. Had taken long enough to beat that into those numbskulls. Those not chosen continued mopping the floor.

A blinding flash, the rumbling of lightning. Vexora walked towards the exit, groaning all the while. “Of course, it’s raining when I get stuck with a bunch of low-level buffoons!” she declared. “Let’s just get this over with.” The clown lady pulled open the door.

“Uhhh, boss, where are we going anyway?” one of the henchmen asked.

Otto would have loved to have that conversation indoors, but Vexora was already out in the rain. The rest of them hurriedly tossed over their coats, following her into the downpour. It was stronger than anything they had ever experienced here in Downtown. It felt like they had stumbled right into Ever-Rain.

The half-ogre’s mind was moving rapidly. How could he get Vexora to leave this just to him? “L-lady Carnivella, you don’t need to–“

“Can you not compromise my disguise more than this stupid mission already is?” Vexora barked back at him. “It’s not that far. We are going to Granite-Block.”

“Are you certain that is the path to embark upon?”

The question cut through the heavy rain with displacing clarity. Vexora stopped dead in her tracks, tilting her head back. Otto followed her gaze. He saw a figure, a female silhouette against the repeated thunder that struck the lightning rods of the tall structures. He could make out nothing about her, too blinded by the electric currents.

Calmly, the figure stood at the corner of a rooftop. Neither rain nor distance obscured her voice. “Your disguise has wavered already. Surrender your influence upon the newcomers.”

“How about no?” Vexora asked, then growled at Otto. “Granite-Block, Corridor 12-B, that’s where the portal is. Do not fuck this up.”

Otto had no idea what was happening, but he did know that fate loved him! Grunting in acknowledgement, he took off in the direction of the massive, dwarf-infested block of stone in the distance.

Behind him, the thunder cracked.