The Abyss Stirs...

John Newman continued his school day, thankful that the crisis was over. He wanted to more carefully consider the newfound pool of points he had to allocate... and what waters, still murky, he would be happy to tread.

Moira (after eventually getting dressed in a separate stall) called her butler to help transport the enslaved mage, unsure of what influence she could even have on behalf of her word to John.

Tricia worked tirelessly on analyzing everything her suppression suit had recorded before breaking, and so remained hidden from prying eyes that, for now, were blinded to her.

Rave, Travolta and Jimmie licked their wounds of pride, thankful for Jimmie's ability to read a barrier from the outside but still irritated at having to leave. Still, they had taken care of the smugglers bothering her father... a fact that would come to haunt them...

Elsewhere in the world and in the shadows of the world, John's actions echoed...

*

"She is gone," the subordinate repeated in her high-pitched, yet grim voice. Her room writhed with the tendrils of shadow cast by her superior, but she remained stoic. This was not her failing, after all; if anything, it was that of the fool she so temporarily served. The darkness asked its wordless question, and she clarified. "Something broke our link to her, or something took her out of the full range of our devices... and since she could go anywhere in the universe without eluding us, I have to presume she was either annihilated so efficiently as to destroy our tracking enchantment, or she somehow crossed an Outsider... which is hardly impossible, given the mission to bring us a Gorbachev, even a young, hidden one." The shadow pulsed; it respected the wisdom of the assessment, though a few mocking, trite words for the servant were due all the same. "... No, Master, I believe you misunderstand... even the rogue Amalgamation was destroyed." Shock vibrated through the shadows. "Not by the Gorbachev..." You tiny-dicked nitwit. "No... there is another... something unseen or unheard of... something powerful there, in that Academy. The bounty was collected, though of course we might never learn from beings so alien as the Extinction Kings, but-"

The walls pulsed and gained dimension as they reached close to the squatting mage, her face obscured by robes. He was terrified of the woman of the Academy, the one who made him tread so lightly even in this operation.

She cleared her throat. "Worry not, Master... it is not her. What little we know, we at least know it was a male who collected the bounty... and I know of no other male mages at the Academy, save the one meant to be kidnapped as well as the Gorbachev, for a separate sale... someone inconsequential to the Hellbat, and so she did not spare details, save that he was a newly awakened mage there, in the Academy." The pools of dark trembled; he was excited, or so she interpreted. "Yes, it is my belief that she was foolish indeed... because now we have no idea who collected the bounty, and the Extinction Kings were light on details, as they always are. Should I travel there, and acquire the Gorbachev myself?" The room dimmed with her master's obtenebration, and the darkness seeped onto the floors and ceilings, threatening to consume it whole. It ebbed and surged, forming hills and valleys upon its surface as careful instructions were laid on the apprentice, still with her hood down and her eyes closed, still with her snide thoughts kept safe. "As you wish, Master... we will stand clear of the Academy, and not risk angering her with further trespass. Do you wish anything-" The darkness shrunk away, drained from the surfaces of her bedroom, uncovered the Murphy bed on her wall, the fetishes nailed to the plaster, and finally shrinking back into the standing mirror from which it had sprung. Her Master didn't so much as offer a polite goodbye; he was done with her. She tsked, but smiled once her senses let her know she was alone.

As if I would tell that fool everything, or fret over one dangerous mage enough to stay away from the Academy... She grinned at her own deceptions. ... or that I'd tolerate such a shoddy report from Tara. She stood, her enchanted leathers glimmering a faint purple before lifting the shadows that hid her body. I'll attend your little school, John Newman, and the Brightons and elders there be damned. I will take this improbably power of yours, mold it, and make it my own... and I suspect, once I'm done with you... I will finally earn my rightful place in the Cabal. The shadows over her body faded, and she walked towards her full-body mirror to appreciate her trim, shapely body... all 3.5 feet of it. She threw her hood back and grinned, tucking stray locks of black hair behind her pale, pointed ears, and appreciated what passed for, in her most humble opinion of self, the perfect ten in halfling society. She trembled with excitement; not since she had left the shire, and bargained her way into the world of Men, had she felt this sure.

She had finally found her Golden Opportunity. Yes, my rightful place... "... at the top, of course. Hoooo ho ho ho!" She tossed her head back and haughtily laughed into the back of her hand.

*

"The Abyss is a mercurial place," the succubus whispered, eyeing her new victim with hunger, "one that your petty, mortal scholars argue does not truly exist, save for serving as the dark mirror of mankind's imagination. Others would contend it is a world as real as yours, mirrored and perverted by denizens evil and good, but always beyond or below the expectations of yours. It is a place of devils and angels, of the raw stuff of dreams and the real essence of nightmares. It is in this swirling soup that I, Ulshat, am a goddess... and so too here, puny mortal." She licked her lips, and rubbed her pink-skinned body slowly, sensually, from pushing aside a black bang of her Bettie Page hair, down her slim sides, and onto her hips for an authoritative pose to entice the pitiful man-thing... to torment her new toy. "Did you truly think calling me would benefit you? Foolish mortal... when I'm done with you, you will beg to ride to Hell between my thighs, and the heat of my distaste for your pitiful cockmilk will-"

Flush.

Ulshat froze before the wide, restroom mirror. Her eyes, framed by thick, horn-rimmed glasses, widened until they nearly escaped the massive frames, and her hands froze where they were roleplaying, rubbing her conservative tweed jacket as they were. Her mouth froze between syllables as she stared, in mortifying horror, at the stall that opened to reveal her supervisor, Gxngreegle. Her boss, a notably more voluptuous succubus, also bore the Mark of the Extinction King, but was of a much larger pay grade, perhaps thanks to her confidence, the sort Ulshat wished she had... the sort she certainly lacked right now. While Ulshat dressed like a virgin librarian (fitting for a virgin succubus, enslaved before she had any chance to earn so much as one victim), Gxngreegle wore the proper leathers, and didn't wear them, as she pleased, letting one fat nipple hang in the open while the other rested in perfect asymmetry. Her skin was a deep crimson, marking her power and count in victims... contrasting strongly to the bright pink of Ulshat. The latter fiddled with the top of her (long, conservative) beige skirt, and decided she'd try to break the tension first, something relaxed, something nonchalant.

"HOW LONG WERE YOU THERE?!" she very casually shouted in the best casual voice she could manage.

"Oh, I don't know," Gxngreegle muttered, looking herself in the mirror as she washed her hand, pouting her lips as if they wouldn't be perfect and toying with her up-do of blood-red hair. "I mean, I was there the whole time? But if you mean consciously... I don't know... maybe some point between... 'goddess' and 'cock... milk'?" She half-asked her subordinate, who buried her face in her hands as she stood paralyzed. "Cockmilk? Did... did you Google that? I hope you didn't Google that."

"I can't believe this is happening..."

"Are you using Urban Dictionary? You know what I said about-"

"Please go away..." The boss raised her eyebrows, and Ulshat cleared her throat as she tried her best to regain her composure. "... I mean, if you're done... I'm... I'm just practicing f-for-"

"I know what you're practicing for," Gxngreegle hissed, nearing her equally-tall, but far from equally-important minion. "I also know you think this job will get you out of data processing, where a little angel like you," she spat, causing Ulshat to flinch at the terrible insult among succubi, "deserves to stay for eternity. But this isn't a meal ticket, bitch... this guy of yours? A fluke... an accident. He won't want to collect anymore bounties, he'll use you up until he's bored... Hell, maybe he'll even marry you down there, really make you a pitiful sight... and then? Right back to where you belong: DP." Gxngreegle began to walk away, leaving Ulshat nearly in tears as she stared at her feet. She put her clawed hand on the door, and paused. "And not the good DP, Ulshat. Your DP." She pushed the door open, and the flames and screams poured into the bathroom from the nightmare realm that waited beyond (sales and retention). The young demon sniffled, and pulled out the spiral notebook from her jacket to look at the cut-out photo she glued into its cover, at the young man who might become her ticket out of Hell... well, the Hell of data processing. Else, she was to be the unwilling cocksleeve to some lucky mortal, a trophy to show off to demon-slayers and kings. Oh, what would become of her?

"John Newman," she read the name again, and sighed at her hopeless dreams.

*

"Impossible," the middle-aged man muttered into his cellular phone. Kwang Moon was reviewing the more petty business of his household, the local finances, when he received the call from his daughter... and her impossible report. He sat upright in the modestly decorated chamber, and stared at his books on the horrors his clan had so carefully written, thinking to any that might substitute her mad claim.

"More than possible, Father," Kim replied. "I was meditating on my visions, as I do... and I saw his plight, and witnessed it all. He defeated a machine mage, and walked into a trap... a trap laden with enemies and allies both... and though the odds were ever in his favor, from allies to devices meant to beat it... still it was his final blow that felled the m... on the monster you described. He named himself Yarrick Dell, as Master Hyong described."

He shook his head, his eyes drifting closed as he tried to imagine it: a rogue mage, barely a man, loose in the Academy where his daughter studied... and with enough power to defeat that infamous name. "That heinous experiment brought the destruction of our rival clan... and he wielded the blade of that dead family, or so our earliest scouts reported. They said his power was tremendous... and we waited for the day he would try some form of **** on our family. But that his alleged might, with the sister sword of our heirloom, could not fell this boy is..."

"He... did not, Father. He seemed to handicap himself... with an imitation blade, or what remained of it. He drew the real blade only twice... and on the second draw, it consumed him, physically and perhaps in spirit as well. When they were already gone, they had left his bloodied, broken weapon behind... and so I risked the chance to take it, so that you may have proof-"

"Foolish girl! Bring it to me at once, so that we may cleanse you both!"

"B-But the rest of my studies-"

"For all your talent, you still lack caution. Your studies can wait; come now, Daughter, and speak to no one, lest an Evil Eye find you first."

"Y-Yes, Father..."

Kwang hung up the call and dropped his phone carelessly onto the pile of paper before him. He was being paranoid, of course... but he was a father still, and the brash actions of his daughter still had him shaking his head. But the amalgamation is dead. To think the Southern Wind would dare with such forbidden magics, and to their own end... but more, to think that they made an Amalgamation of Endless Vendettas in their efforts to destroy us... He pursed his lips as he contemplated the riddle before him. No... this boy did not truly face the abomination. It must have been at its spiritual end... unwinding, as they all do when their existence runs too long, sending them ever closer to fulfilling a destiny they cannot understand or comprehend... such a pitiful thing. He stared at his phone for a time, and listened to the sound of running water from the garden just behind his massive window.

"But... Newman..." He narrowed his eyes. "Why do I... know that name...?"