The Atlantian System: Creation

“Hey! It’s the asshole.” Vigo slurred with a wavering point.

The scar-faced man glanced momentarily at her companion before looking away as if dismissing his very existence to tap at a smartphone mounted to the dashboard.

Leta glanced at the ride-share app and then glanced down at her phone.

“Well, clearly, you are not Karlos.” She said slowly, trying to pull on the door handle with no luck discreetly.

She could see the stranger-turned-kidnapper give a nasty smirk in the rear view mirror.

Slowly, to avoid drawing attention, she exited the app to call the emergency number, asking him as calmly as possible, “So what happened to him?”

“Do not worry about him.” He drawled in a slow Middle Eastern accent. “He is currently sleeping in a bar.”

The car crawled out of its parallel park and into the road.

Neither Leta nor Vigo were buckled in, which caused them both to fly into the car doors as the vehicle took off, her phone flying from her grasp to land on the floor between Vigo’s feet. Leta recovered her balance, but Vigo practically ended up in her lap with a moan.

“Where are you taking us?”

“To your accommodations. I mean you no harm, dear Oletta. As I said, we have much to discuss.”

“You’re a bad driver.” Vigo groaned as he tried to grab hold of the kidnapper’s chair to hoist himself up but slipped and went nose-first into the plastic center consul.

“I would recommend you strap your friend in. I fear he may accidentally injure himself.”

Leta took a deep breath and focused on the brake pad, willing it to press down and stop the car.

[Line of sight on target obscured. Magician’s Hand has failed.]

‘Dammit!’ She tried to see if she could get a good look at the shift, but the space between the front seats was so small, and he was leaning on the center console that she couldn’t see it.

Switching tactics, she channeled Persuasion.

“Stop the car.”

[Host’s Mental Fortitude + Persuasion is lower than the target’s Mental Fortitude + skill software Focus of the Jackal. Persuasion has failed.]

‘Shit!’

“You seem to be going through a lot of trouble just to talk to me.” Leta quipped as she grabbed Vigo by the collar and pulled him back. He was barely conscious, but that was mostly from drinking so much and not from taking a car part to the face.

Their kidnapper shrugged, effortlessly commanding the vehicle through the still-busy streets. “Just another Wednesday for me. I needed to speak with you privately, away from your friend, the Judge. You two seemed on good terms as you spoke with him alone earlier.”

Leta blinked at the realization that he was talking about Dr. De Mar. “How long have you been watching me?” “Since you stopped by the Cathedral. The Siren earlier let me know a fresh Arisen had come to our shores, and I had to see it for myself.”

“What a creep.” Vigo groaned as his head pressed against the car window.

Leta’s back went ridged as visions of green skin and sharp teeth flashed through her mind’s eye.

Their kidnapper watched her reflection in the mirror after her quick inhale. “Be at peace. I am not so vicious as some of our kind are. I would wager you have met some of our kind then, yes?”

“A few.” Leta quipped as she tried to figure out of this trap.

“We are as varied as sands in the desert.” He turned left towards the east, “And as beautiful and dangerous as stars in the heavens. For example, your friend the Judge? Kind-eyed and sincere with an overdeveloped sense of righteousness, but do you know his talent? Judges are creatures of justice and are charged with ensuring Arisen follows the rules laid down by the gods when they walk among us. Break a rule, and a Judge could decide a proper punishment is that your eyes should melt from their sockets, or your arm should rot from your body. And if you break a sacred rule? Suddenly, you’re heart stops beating, and you fall dead where you stand.”

“That-burp-sounds gross,” Vigo commented.

“And you? What are you?” She glanced down at her phone, gauging if she could grab it while he was paying attention to the road.

She didn’t think so, not when their kidnapper kept glancing back at them. And Vigo wouldn’t be subtle about grabbing it in his condition.

She glanced down at her hands. Could she taser him? She didn’t understand these powers yet, and her clothes had been singed when she’d fought the nixie. With how tiny this car was, there was a chance she’d electrocute Vigo as well.

Their kidnapper smiled, his canines unnaturally long and amber eyes glowing gold in the sparse lamplight. “I am Loupgarou, the wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“A werewolf?” Leta sputtered, baffled and terrified at the same time by the whole situation.

“Nothing so crass and unrefined as the image of what that term invokes.” His lip curled in disgust as if she’d suggested something profoundly distasteful. “Werewolves are hulking bodies of unorganized muscle and mindless rage. No, we Loupgarou are elegant in our deadliness, created for stealth and precision. But what I am most interested in is you, Oletta. What are you precisely?”

“Uh, I am a dumb American who should have probably stayed home.” She snorted, then froze. She recognized the tiny fruits and vegetables store as they turned right and started heading south-away from where they were staying.

“We’re not heading to Imerovigli.” She stated, her throat suddenly dry as her heart felt like it was constricted against her ribs.

“We will be. Eventually.” He looked up at the sky, and Leta saw a muscle tick in his cheek as if he were clenching his jaw.

“But not before this conversation is over.” Golden amber eyes hardened as they stared her down in the reflection, “No more jests, our time grows short. What are you?”

“How should I know?” She lied, “I’m literally brand new to all of this.”

“She’s an American, mate. Leave her be.” Vigo groaned.

“Do not play coy.” He grated in annoyance as he tried to ignore the drunkard in his backseat, “Did you have a vision, or was your death dreamless?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Leta stammered.

“You had a life or death experience - that is always the catalyst for those that rise above mortal existence. You either had a vision as you stood on the threshold of the afterlife, or you closed your eyes and opened them as an Arisen. Which is it then?”

“I…” Leta’s breathing picked up as she watched the man’s knuckles that gripped the steering wheel flex with an audible pop.

Something was happening under his skin, like worms crawling through his veins.

It almost looked like they were…swelling.

“Your time for a pleasant conversation is ticking away, Oletta. The longer you draw this out, the worse you’re evening will be.” He his tone was clipped and harsh as the car sped up, taking a turn a bit too hard.

“Where’s ma phone? I’m calling the cops.” Vigo wiggled around in the back seat but looked more like an uncoordinated octopus out of water.

“I…I think I had a vision.” She stuttered, trying the door again as she saw them pull into an unlit side street that was just a dirt road covered in weeds.

Their kidnapper hissed, dark brows furrowing in anger as his lips curled back from sharp teeth. Was it her imagination, or did his hair look fuller as if the follicles were standing at attention like a dog’s raised hackles?

“Chosen…” He snarled low.

“Aw… I think I left it back at the Restaurant. Hey! There’s your phone, Leta.” Vigo flopped forward to pick her phone up when they made another turn, which had him falling into her lap as one arm pinwheeled in the air.

Their kidnapper growled.

A low, deep rumbling that came from the chest and not the throat. She could feel it echoing in her bones like when she was a kid and put her hand over her father’s surround sound speaker.

The man turned his full head in her direction, and Leta shrieked. The golden amber of his eyes had overcome the whites, and his pupils dilated till they were the pinpoints of a madman. The wriggling under his skin pushed bone and muscle forward as his nose and jaw seemed to be pulled forward, blood dripping from his nostrils. His ears seemed to be lengthening and climbing up his skull as the on his body started to darken to a leathery black, small tuft of fine fur sprouting on his cheeks and what was now a muzzle.

“Holy shit!?” Vigo shouted, red eyes blinking as he pressed back into his seat.

“Oletta…” The monster at the steering wheel hissed her name, his tongue catching on the L as it rolled through sharp teeth and long canines, “Time’s up.”