New York, 2024 May 15, 2016 19:38:49 GMT -5
Post by phoenix on May 15, 2016 19:38:49 GMT -5
Soul Companion of Innocent Darkkiss Xtros
General of Kain's Army of Union City
Champion of Tent City
Warrior of Hellsgate
Host to the spirit of the Great Lord LeMene
When Methuselah stepped out of the portal, he had stepped out onto the ledge of something excessively high. Fifty eight stories worth of high, to be precise, as he nearly stepped off the edge of Trump tower.
His eyes went wide and his arms shot out to the sides in order to attempt to give himself extra balance. The wind whipped at his white hair rather violently, as if the Mother Nature of the future was working against him. He suddenly felt a hand grip his wrist and pull him back.
“Yeah, you might not want to do that…”
Methuselah stepped back with the help of the person who had pulled him away from the ledge. Once he felt secure enough, he turned his attention to the person that helped him. Methuselah blinked, surprised.
The person who had helped him looked like the male version of somebody that he had seen, before. The man before him stood tall with red eyes and short, pink hair, the same color as the woman he had met: May. Even his skin seemed just as flawless as hers.
“Keep staring, and I might just do a trick…” the man said, crossing his arms over his chest, unimpressed.
“Apologies, I…” was all Methuselah managed to say. He then shook his head and looked around him. There was lots of noise down below, lots of fast-moving metal chariots that were not lead by any horse. From atop of the tower, he saw a sea of what appeared to be buildings with reflective shields. Was he in the future? “Is this thyne new… “York”?” he asked.
The pink-haired stranger had quickly gathered- from both Methuselah’s armor and thick, Ancient accent, that the vampire was not from the area… not by a long shot. He nodded to Methuselah’s question, even though Methuselah was not looking at him.
The General spun around again, facing the man who looked identical to May. “I beseech you… Taketh me to thyne blue-haired woman.”
The pink haired man still looked unimpressed. “I’m gonna need more to go off of than that…”
“Mina. Her name ist Mina.”
“There are about thirteen thousand people in the United States, alone, with the name of Mina.”
“And in this new… “York”?” Methuselah asked, looking desperate.
The other man sighed and nodded, understanding Methuselah’s predicament. “What else can you give me? What does she do?”
Methuselah shook his head, the look of desperation still apparent. He didn’t know what she did. He didn’t know Mina. The only things he knew were what Sirus and Ayla had told him about her, which wasn’t much at all. The pink-haired man nodded and sighed.
“Alright. I think I know who can help you. There’s an old man by the name of… Phoenix. He runs this tiny shop, downtown. His specialty is doing the impossible. If this Mina you’re looking for is impossible to find, he should be able to find her.”
“Thou hast mine thanks, friend.”
“Locke.” The pink-haired man said. “My name is Locke. And we need to find you some clothes, because the whole realistic “Ren Faire” attire is definitely not getting you through Trump tower without the cops being called.
“Cops?” Methuselah asked, raising a brow. Ren faire? Trump? What were these strange words? He wondered if Viconia knew of these. He would have to remember to ask her upon his return.
“Nevermind.” Locke sighed, finally uncrossing his arms. “Here. Put these on.”
The flawless being glowed dark for a moment, starting at his forehead, and something appeared in his hands. When he finished glowing, he stepped forward, handing Methuselah a pair of black jeans, a red t-shirt, and black shoes. Methuselah was confused by the material. He cast Locke a confused look. The pink-haired man rolled his eyes.
“You do know how to dress, right? You take off your armor and whatever’s underneath, you take the pants, put one leg in, then the other…” Locke drawled.
“Aye…” Methuselah frowned. He did not like that this pink-haired man seemed to think that he was stupid. “Doth people truly wear such strange garments in the future?” he asked, removing his armor.
“You’d be surprised…”
Locke turned around to allow Methuselah to dress. When the noise of Methuselah’s armor and his movement ceased for more than ten seconds, Locke peered over his shoulder to see if Methuselah was ready, then turned back around to face him. The albino’s armor was next to him. He still wore his anti-berserk bracers, however.
“Those are going to be useless in the Phoenix’s shop…” he said, pointing to the bracers.
“They art to remain on mine wrists.” Methuselah said, matter-of-factly.
“Suit yourself…” Locke said in his unimpressed tone. “And, uh… You can’t wander the streets of New York with a sword. It’s illegal.” He added, as Methuselah bent over to pick up his Katana and long sword.
“How shalt I protect mine self?” he asked, puzzled.
“You’re a big guy. You get into a fight, you go Hulk Smash on their asses. The only weapon you have to worry about are guns. And I, unfortunately, can’t help you, there. So don’t get into a fight, and you’ll be fine.”
The General still had a confused look upon his features. What was a “hulk smash”? And why should he be worried about fighting donkeys?
Locke walked over to Methuselah’s armor and weapons and waved his hand over them. Everything disappeared. Methuselah quickly became defensive.
“What hath thyne done?!”
“Prestidigitation, my man. A trick of the eye. Your armor is still there. See?” The pink-haired man raised his foot and touched the armor, causing it to clank slightly. “If anybody else comes on the roof, they won’t see it. It’ll only last an hour, though, so we better get moving. Come on.”
Locke offered his hand for Methuselah to take. The albino eyed him suspiciously. He did not know this man, and now that he was weaponless, how was he to protect himself against Locke’s magic if the pink-haired man decided to attack? But he had no-one else to trust, at that moment. Hesitantly, he placed his hand atop of Locke’s.
“It’s loud and fast, down there. Are you ready?”
Methuselah nodded. Locke nodded back in response. He began to glow, starting at a point on his forehead. The glow was dark, and it grew darker until Methuselah could no longer see anything. Suddenly, Methuselah covered his ears from the deafening sounds.
His eyes flew open. Still covering his ears, the albino’s blood red eyes glanced around. They were in a dark alley. He could see the metal, horseless chariots zooming by. There were hundreds of people walking. Methuselah glanced up at the towers with their reflective shields. His eyes fell on Locke, who stood ever so calmly, his hands in his pockets. The thin man rolled his head to the side, slightly- a gesture to have Methuselah follow him.
Methuselah followed, but he was having a hard time keeping up in between looking about in curiosity and wonder, and being rudely bumped into because he was in people’s way. He didn’t think that he had ever apologized so much in his whole life. Locke, however, just kept on walking, seemingly unaffected by everything and everyone. Eventually, Locke stopped and turned to face a tiny building.
“Tough luck, my man. Looks like the Phoenix’s shop is closed.” He said, pointing to the closed sign at the door.
A pensive expression crossed Locke’s features. It was too early in the day for them to be closed. Perhaps, then, they were on break?
“Go next door. That café. See if anybody knows where the Phoenix is.”
Methuselah looked to the café in question. He then turned his attention back to Locke, but the pink-haired man was gone. Blinking, Methuselah looked around. There was no sign of the man anywhere, at all. With a frown, the albino then stepped toward the building and opened the door.
There, sitting on a bar stool, was a blue-haired woman. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment, smiling to the newcomer, before she turned her attention back to the redhead that she was having a conversation with.
Mina. It had to be her.