59. Rabbithole (Patreon)

Through the door, he watched the ruined fountain vanish. The door swung shut, eclipsing the gray sky, the gray buildings, the half-moon golden windows. Jacob’s startled face filled up the silver of remaining sky, and then the door closed.

Down and down, on into the black. Rowan closed his eyes and opened them. No difference. Black all around. The sensation of falling, and nothing. On and on, plunging into darkness, only the wind on his hair and skin to tell him he hadn’t stopped.

He struck the ground and bounced. Rowan tensed, expecting pain, but none came. Patting himself down, he found no blood, no soreness, no bones sticking through his skin--nothing. Rubbing the bruise where Jacob had hit him, the only injury he could find, he grimaced. What the hell?

Sitting up, Rowan looked around. Rather than the pitch black, he found himself in a darkened room. About the size of a classroom, it laid open, devoid of any kind of furnishings. A bland, sturdy carpet stretched underfoot, and bland, off-white paint coated the walls. From outside the door came the low hubbub of office chatter. Confused, Rowan climbed upright and walked to the door. Where am I? What’s going on?

He reached for the doorknob.

A white-gloved hand caught his. He looked up. Short chocolate-brown hair cropped into a pixie cut, woman in a tuxedo, top hat, and a domino mask shook her head. She lifted a finger to her lips.

“Lou?” Rowan guessed, glancing at the gloves. I thought they'd be a man for sure. What the hell is with the outfit, though?

The woman smiled. “This way. If they find us, it’s all over.”

“What is this place?” Rowan whispered back.

She grinned mischievously. “A secret.”

Releasing his hand, Lou led him to the corner. She whipped the top hat off her head and flourished it, showing him the shiny silk sides. With a gentle touch of her hand, the brim expanded. Lou reached through. Her hand vanished into the darkness.

Rowan frowned. A skill? What a weird activation. But wait, she didn’t say a skill name…

“Secret Pocket,” Lou murmured under her breath. She drew out a deck of cards and, replacing the hat on her head, shuffled them, bridged them, and shuffled them again. She splayed out the deck. “Pick a card.”

“Uh…” Rowan furrowed his brow. Is she nuts?

Lou gestured, egging him on.

Whatever. Rowan drew a card.

“Jack of clubs.”

Rowan flipped his card over. His eyes widened. It is!

A second later, he narrowed his eyes. We’re stuck in some mysterious room inside the spawns, and she’s doing party tricks?

He looked up at Lou to find her halfway through a hatch in the ground. She beckoned for him to follow.

“Where did that come from?” Rowan asked, furrowing his brows. Did she summon it while I was distracted by the cards?

Lou grinned and vanished into the blackness on the far side of the hole.

With no better idea, Rowan sat on the edge of the hole, legs curled up beside him. Despite sitting atop it, he couldn't see anything inside, not the walls nor the bottom. Carefully, he reached a leg into it. His leg vanished as it descended into the black.

Startled, Rowan yanked it back. His leg emerged unharmed, as if nothing had happened. Slowly, he dipped his toe in, then foot, then both legs. Rowan kicked them, curious. I can't see them, but I can feel them fine. What is this hole? And who is Lou? If she summoned this... how high level is she? What in the Tower's name is her class?

One of his feet caught the rung of a ladder. Rowan tested his weight against the unseen ladder, then descended slowly, one step at a time. Halfway down, he reached up to close the hatch after him.

The door to the room opened. Light spilled in. Rowan pulled the hatch down faster and jumped into the hole. Lou said we can't be caught!

“Rowan?” a familiar voice asked, confused.

He glanced up, even as the hatch closed after him. For a single moment, he caught a glimpse of straight blonde hair, blue eyes, a perfectly-matched pastel skirt and blouse. “Hannah?”

The hatch closed. Rowan plunged into darkness. What was that? Why was Hannah there? Wait, was that—

He thumped down into stone. Rowan staggered and threw out a hand. He caught himself on something slimy. Thick stench clogged his nose and burned his throat.

Where am I?

Green slime crawled over the walls, which curved and closed off close overhead. Directly above him, a round grate barred the way up into the dim gray light, while petering rain filtered down. Bent metal rebar, rusty and wet, made a makeshift ladder up to the grate.

Am I in the sewers? Gross. Making a face, Rowan grabbed the ladder and climbed up to the grate. Heavy metal barred his way. He pressed his shoulders against it and pushed with his legs. The grate clattered aside.

Half out, Rowan paused. “Lou?”

His voice echoed down the sewers. The skittering of rat claws on stone was his only answer.

Guess she’s gone. Rowan shook his head and climbed out into the city.

“What the hell? There’s clones in the sewers?”

Rowan started to look up, then caught himself and stood mechanically, pretending to ignore the voice.

Red shoved him aside and leaped into the sewers. “Gah, it stinks down here!”

“Red! What the hell?” Blue called, hurrying after her.

Casually, Rowan walked away, making a beeline for the other clones. Time to make my exit.

“I’ve only got one clone left to find. It’s so annoying to be at ninety-nine out of a hundred, you know?”

“Didn’t we decide not to go after the clones right away?” Blue complained.

“Shut uuuup. Ugh, there’s nothing down here. Is it a respawn point, or something?” Red leaped back out of the sewers.

A strong grip caught Rowan by the shoulder, fingernails painted black. Red whirled him around and grinned fiercely. She drew back her sword. “Guess there’s one way to find out.”