The Gunslinger

Andy was getting used to the yoyo effect of bouncing between Illia and the Etherrealm. She had not gotten used to her new body. As she slowed from a rocketing speed to a gentle drift, she fluttered down into her new Goddess’ sanctum, pawing at her skirt in a **** attempt to stop it from blowing up on her as she fought her new center of gravity.

Though nominally a “sanctum”, a base of sorts where each God or Goddess could oversee their domain without interference, Lyeria’s had become a sort of base of operations for the project of saving Galora from the darkness. Sostus and Revvi had been assigned as well, and their wardens buzzed in and out, largely ignoring their newest colleague.

When Andy opened the double doors, she found Lyeria in a curious state. Gone was the short toga and the flirty demeanor. Her dark hair was now pulled back into a bun against her head. She wore spectacles, a blouse made of a light, ethereal fabric, and tight dark pants that flared out at the ankles.

As she browsed her books. These were, Andy had discovered, a sort of living diary that tracked the soles they’d transferred here.

“Uh, hey, boss,” Andy greeted. “You look…different.”

An absurd question formed in her head.

“That is you, right?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Lyeria said. “You’re probably not used to this aspect of me, but….well, think of this as my manifestation of recorded creativity. Written word, stored music, etcetera.”

She snapped the book shut, and that’s when Andy noticed what was printed on it. Most of the text in Etherealm were written in the strange God language that Andy had only just learned how to read, but this book bore a name written in plain English characters.

“Olivia Sanderson,” She read. “Is that my sister?!”

Lyeria peered over her glasses.

“Yes. She was a bit outside of the perimeter we set up for recruitment, but we brought her along anyway due to her closeness to you.”

Andy groaned, burying her face in her palm.

“Wait, I thought this whole thing was just collecting the 600 people closest to me,” She said. “Are you telling me there’s even more?”

“Closeness is a relative term, Little Godling,” Lyeria said with a wan smile. “Yes, we largely recruited from those who were geographically closest to you. But there were a few others who were personally close to either you or the material that you created. It only made sense to include them as well.”

“Uh, okay. So is that why her name’s on a book?”

Lyeria gave the exasperated sigh of a teacher dealing with an exceptionally slow pupil.

“You know how this works, little Godling. If we’ve transferred her soul, she has a soul book.”

Andy was losing patience.

“You know what I meant!” She yelled, whirling to hold up the book. “Why is Olivia getting dragged into this?”

“She’s your sister. Metaphorically, if not physically, she’s one of the closest people in your orbit,” Lyeria said. “Your mother will probably be taken in as well.”

“No! Not my Mom!” Andy said, beginning to pace. “Ohmygod, I need to find them! I never will at the pace I’m going!”

“Oh, yes. About that,” Lyeria said. “I’ve split the task of informing all of the transplants of their new situation with Sostus. He’ll be assisting you.”

“And in a far more efficient manner than the way you’re going about it,” the smug society god added, “I’m not personally flying about to hand deliver instructions like some sort of courier. I’m simply sending them information in recorded messages.”

Andy crossed her arms.

“Oh yeah, super helpful. I’m sure they’ll all be very comforted,” She complained. “Do you even know how to talk to humans?”

“As a matter of fact, I spent a great deal of time researching how information is conveyed in your world,” Sostus said in that irritating know-it-all tone that made Andy want to hit him. “Your species developed a delightful series of…Ly, what was the name of those recordings I found?”

“Videos,” She said, not taking her eyes from a book she’d plucked from the pile.

“Yes! There is a wonderful art you little humans developed. Informational videos about issues facing society. Extremely instructive,” Sostus said. “I modeled my messages in their vain.”

“Wait, if we’re just beaming down recordings or whatever at these guys, how are we going to record who became who?” Andy asked.

“I suspect we won’t,” Sostus said. “Or at least, it can wait until they’re settled in and we can perform a proper census. The important thing now is informing them all quickly. Which you certainly don’t have the time to do at the rate you’re going.”

Andy couldn’t argue with that, but the idea of her Mom or Olivia being told who they were by some sort of space beam was unsettling. She wanted to see them. To hold them. To let them know she had their backs and it was going to be okay.

“Well, I guess if we’re doing it this way, I need to get to work finding these guys,” Andy said, walking toward the door.

“Are you leaving already?” Lyeria asked. “You just got back in.”

“Yeah. And now I’m gonna go find my family,” She said.

Andy turned to the open hole in the floor where one could make a quick exit to any world of their choosing, and jumped down into it.

The SUV’s two occupants rolled along downtown LA in tense silence. Its driver, a tough, but tired brunette in her mid 20s, scanned the mirrors to make sure they weren't being followed. Its passenger, a 19 year old tanned beauty in a designer dress that cost nearly as much as the vehicle itself, sat with her equally expensive combat boots propped on the dash. Her arms were folded beneath her chest.

"Put your feet down." Olivia Sanderson finally said to her client.

"Why? It's comfy." Rebecca Gaiman, Bekks, to the pop music world, argued.

"Because you're going to draw attention to us."

That seemed to get through, and the barely-not-teeny bopper for once did as she was told. A small victory, but Liv would take what she could get.

"You wanna tell me what the hell happened back there?"

Bekks gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

"Can we, like, skip the lecture and go straight to the part where you tell me to do better and stuff? I am soooo not in the mood."

Liv wasn't either, but this was their careers and the two had a lot to sort out. Bekks was one of the hottest pop stars in the world, despite her looming flameout. Though nominally only her bodyguard, Olivia had become a hybrid of Bekks’ personal handler, assistant agent and scheduler since being assigned to her by the record company; mostly because she was the only one who’d been able to exercise any control over their young starlet.

"There aren't any cameras here, Bekks. You can cut the Valley Girl bullshit."

Bekks regarded her for a moment, then simply said "Fine."

Liv veered off onto side streets, the better to avoid any prying eyes. Bekks was increasingly dogged by paparazzi, angry venue managers and money men in turns, and Liv didn't want to be interrupted by any of them.

"Start talking" She tried again. "If you've got some kind of good excuse as to why you just bailed three songs into your set at one of the largest venues in the country, I am all ears."

"It was just some hecklers, okay? They got into it and I got into it back," Bekks said, before adding "They were throwing stuff at me."

Had she even had to ask?

"The new material?” Liv guessed.

"All anyone ever wants to hear are my old songs," Bekks pouted, though none of her ‘old’ songs had been recorded any earlier than 2020. "I tried to start with the new stuff and they were really mean."

Liv, who’d served two tours in Afghanistan and lost friends there, had little patience for the mood swings of the singer she’d been put in charge of.

"Then toughen up,” She prodded. “Dammit, Bekks, part of being in the spotlight is having a thick skin. You gotta play through that shit."

"Easy for you to say. Besides, who cares? We'll do a makeup gig or move onto our next show or whatever," Bekks said. "It's not like I stopped being famous."

Liv sighed. She really didn't get it.

"Bekks, there might not be another show. This is your third missed concert on this tour. The whole tour's turning into a disaster, the venues are starting to sweat about you playing and the third record was a flop. You can't even stay out of the law's way."

"Oh. My. God." Bekks huffed. "You are blowing that soooo far out of proportion. I wasn't even over the legal limit. They just popped me because I was underage."

"It was your second DUI in three months!" Liv said, fighting to keep her voice down. She was a patient woman, but there were limits. "This is your career! Don't you care that it's falling apart on you?"

"What. Ever. I don't even know if I want this stupid career anymore."

It didn't exactly take Sigmund Freud to divine that possibility, but that didn't change the disastrous magnitude of its implications.

"You know it's not just your career on the line, right? What about your parents? Your agent? You have any idea how fucked all of us are if this all goes up in smoke?" Liv said. "People depend on you."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a big fucking enterprise to you people. I get it," Bekks said. "It's not my fault you don't have a life outside of babysitting me."

Liv felt a touch of real anger at that. The comment had been insolent and mean spirited, but it hit a little too close to home.

"You selfish little bitch," She wanted to scream. "Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed to help you become the monster you're turning into?"

...and then she realized that was exactly what Bekks wanted. The comment had been meant to cut; to distract her from the topic at hand.

"Maybe you just need to rebrand," She said instead. "The new album is actually really good. It's just not what people expected from you."

Bekks' eyed her carefully.

"Really? You actually like it?"

That's right. I can play this game too, you little harpy.

"It's got a lot of really diverse influences. That’s obvious," She said with a nod. "Maybe you could push it toward the hipster set."

Liv scoffed at that.

"Those kinds of people think I’m just some dumb princess."

"So stop proving them right! Stop..."

But Liv trailed off, the world around her growing swimmy.

"Olivia?" Bekks' panicked voice cried from far away, "Olivia, the car!"

But both it, and her, and Bekks, were all starting to drift away.

Olivia sat up, her thoughts were slow, and a hot sun blinded her as she tried to open her eyes. She’d been with Bekks. On the road. In the car.

The car! She thought, with sudden panic.. Oh fuck!

Alarmed, she sprang nimbly to her feet, looking around frantically. For Bekks. For the car. For the wreckage and paramedics and chaos.

What she found instead was even more shocking. The cluttered LA side streets had been replaced by vast, sprawling desert that unfolded around her; a sort of dreamscape vision of an American Southwest desert, with tall rocky spires, rugged mesas and jagged rock jutting from the land in crazed and nonsensical orders. Nothing here looked natural, not in the least because of the bizarre colors from the rocks that rose from an otherwise rust red hardpan.

“What the fuck?” She whispered, standing.

That’s when she realized that the landscape wasn’t the only thing that felt wrong. Liv’s whole body was wrong. She was too tall, for one, and curvier than she should have been. The hair that flowed around her face was a pale blonde rather than her own natural black. And above all, her skin was an inexplicable, blueish purple shade.

“What…” She breathed, “The fuck?”

Liv swallowed the rising panic, forcing it back with a will. Whatever was happening, she felt fine. And standing here freaking out about it wouldn’t do her any good. She **** a breath in, then another, then another. She counted. When she thought she had reasonable control over herself, she opened her eyes.

Liv first took stock of herself. She wore tight fitting, sturdy, rawhide pants and a gingham shirt and black leather vest that hugged a bosom much more generous than it should be. Over it all hung a long, white duster. It was cool against her skin, even in the hot sun, and made from an odd, scaly hide. She wore a hat, broad brimmed and folded on the left side.

She was armed, too.

A bandolier was strapped over her shoulder and she had a belt of bullets around her hips. On those hips sat a pair of old, oiled gun holsters. Faster than she’d have thought possible, she slid her hand over the heavy butt and drew a large revolver. It looked like it had fallen from a wild west film, or would have had if not for its odd silvery color, or the golden runes etched along the barrel. The butts were a reddish, rosewood color, and although the gun was huge, it felt surprisingly light.

“Okay…” She breathed, gripping the gun like a life preserver. “Whatever’s happening…I got you.”

The feel of it was reassuring. Holding it, some primal part of her seemed sure it would all be alright. She took another long breath, and by the time she let go of it, she felt almost steady.

Some vague, niggling part of Liv’s psyche begged her to go west. She had no idea how she knew to do that, nor how she knew where west even was, but she started walking all the same. Her gear, she noted with some approval, was comfortable; ideally suited for walks in places like this.

It didn’t take Liv long to realize that she wasn’t alone in the desert, and the sights she saw were even stranger than the landscape around her. Around one corner, a group of huge green men were beating the hell out of a clunky, rust colored robot. Far away, a dragon lazed atop a huge stone spire. In the far distance, a gigantic, swift moving spider like creature surveyed the world with a glowing, blood red eye, a tail whipping above its bulky body. It took her some time watching it to realize that it was mechanical.

Through it all, Liv stuck to the shadows, followed the rocks, and avoided them all. She was certain this wasn’t a dream. It all felt far too real. She could tell that wherever she was was dangerous, and in a way, that was almost a relief. Danger dulled questions and doubts, like where she was, who she was, or why any of this was happening. Doubts were a luxury, and she couldn’t afford any of those until she knew she was safe.

Eventually, Liv found herself approaching two enormous mesas. They ringed an open clearing, in which sat a pleasant looking oasis. Various shops and tents surrounded the central pond, all of which were curiously abandoned.

As she approached the water, a loud whistle broke the air. She looked up with a gasp to find something hurtling down at her. In one, fluid motion, Liv kicked her legs out, flying through the hair, her hands dropping to her guns. She landed in a roll by a grove of trees, guns readied. She gaped in astonishment at how easy it had been; how naturally it had come to her.

But that thought was interrupted by a massive crash, as the object made an impact. Liv grit her teeth as the impact shook the world around her, then turned slowly and advanced through the shifting dust toward the place she assumed it had landed.

The object turned out to be a large, black, stone obelisk roughly the size and shape of a refrigerator. And as she drew near it, its face began to shift and ripple. Without thinking, she pulled back, cocking the hammers, her fingers falling from the guards to the triggers…

…Only for her jaw to drop as an image began to form. The rippling solidified into the last thing she expected; a black and white panorama of suburban LA. Tinny, old timey music from the 40s or 50s began to play, although it sounded like it was recorded by a band whose only instruments were screaming cats.

Liv winced.

“Hello adventurer!” A voice boomed. It had the stilted cadence of a 50s PSA. “If you’re receiving this message, you have been selected to save the world!”

The image shifted, panning around to the desert she’d been walking through. Then, a city surrounding a castle. Then a dense forest.

“But not your world! You have been taken from…” The voice paused, its confident, if stilted tone breaking off. “Uhm…Ly…what’s the name of that blasted city?”

“Los Angeles,” A female voice said from a distance.

“Yes. You have been taken from Los Angeles to participate in a magnificent quest. And nothing less than the salvation of the universe is at stake…”

What followed was a series of explanations that largely went over Liv’s head; a lot of claptrap about a fantasy world, an evil queen, and a realm that needed saving. It sounded like something her brother would write.

She shook her head at the unreality of it all.

“God I’m having a weird fucking day,” She said aloud.

And as she did, it got even weirder.

A red eye opened at the top of the obelisk. A red beam of light flowed out of it and over her. Before she could think twice about it, Liv lifted her guns and fired with both, the two bullets smashing into the place where the eye had appeared. Liv’s heart beat faster, a thrill rising inside of her. This thing, whatever it was, had been informative, but shooting felt right, somehow.

The strange message continued, however, as though nothing had happened.

“You been reincarnated as Tsara Vallano, a Drow Gunslinger, background, Bounty Hunter,” The voice continued.

Olivia’s world went blurry as new memories coursed into her mind. Of hauling in criminals, shooting down bandits, and finally a very potent memory of standing in line of people and gripping her gun as a woman in dark, chitinous armor made her toward her.

She shook her head, clearing it as the voice kept speaking at her.

“You may find yourself experiencing strange memories, following strange impulses, or guided by instincts that feel like they don’t belong to you,” It said. “Do not fret. That’s only the residual memories of the hero you’ve reincarnated as. In time, you will inherit their skills, powers, memories and knowledge, augmenting your own and allowing you to become a savior of the universe!”

It was too far-fetched to believe, but here Liv was in a strange world and a body that wasn’t her own. As weird as this whole situation was, the explanation was as good as any.

“One last thing,” The stone commanded. “It is vitally important you keep your identities to yourselves. People will insist that you’ve died, but you must invent an excuse to obfuscate who you are. Should it become known, it could endanger your mission. And only by completing the mission of saving the world will you be able to return home.”

With that, the stone began to crack and crumble to dust. Olivia stood there, blinking at it with guns in hand. Already, memories of who she was and where she was headed, the desert city of Alestain, began to bubble up in her mind.

She holstered her guns, lifted her hat, and ran a hand through her hair.

“Goddamnit,” She muttered.

And then, Olivia began to hear voices.