Mathew

The things we do for family, Mathew thought to himself.

Sighing, he grabbed the smaller set of keys from the key rack by the door - a bent nail hammered into an unfinished wood triangle, a cut of 2X4 he’d collected as scrap and made useful. Like him ugly but useful. Well that was a bit far; plain but useful. Mathew brushed his calloused fingers over the only decoration in the dwelling. A plaque.

“Heigh-ho,” he read, breaking the silence.

Smooth edges, hand-carved lettering and a cherry finish, the plaque was a gift from the man who stepped into the void of Mathew’s life when he hit the streets. Mathew had always called him Pa, all the delinquents had. According to Pa, heigh-ho was the original “embrace the suck.” Learning that nugget of wisdom from Pa had been tough but worthwhile.

Ritual complete, Mathew flipped his cracked phone open and shot a quick text to tell his brother Trent that he was on the way. Their shared destination was The Stash. One of the best BBQ joints that had climbed its way from a hole in the wall to a premium restaurant. As premium as he could afford, that is. Leaving his house, Mathew locked the door. Better safe than sorry.

Navigating his city was second nature. It didn’t hurt that people paying half attention to see him coming would split out of his way. Climbing a steep half-mile of road, he enjoyed the wind blowing up the guardrail on his right, carrying the evening heat away. The Stash had long glass windows that covered the entire front, and it showcased the whole east side of the city and its varied spires of glass and metal. In short order, he was stepping from car fumes into spices and BBQ. The hostess’s professional mask broke into a sincere grin.

“Hey Jen.” Mathew smiled back.

“Hey Mat.” Jenifer replied. “We are pretty busy this evening. Management tells me it’s new investors spending on advertising. Sorry, we won’t have tables for hours… Uh, I am glad to see you though.”

“Supposedly, I have a reservation.” Mathew said. “Last name Starling.”

“What do you have to do with her?” Jenifer raised an eyebrow.

“Huh, her? No should be first name Trent. Plus that is my last name.” Mathew noticed her jealous eyes.

“Oh, I thought it was- never mind. I’ve got it right here.” Jenifer said, gathering up a menu.

Following her, Mathew smirked. He’d been working on scraping up as much charming as he could manage for the few months she had worked here. Despite their flirting, they never did pull the trigger on a date. Trying to keep up with her retreating form, Mathew’s eyes locked onto a sitting figure. They share the same black hair and brown eyes. But Mathew would swear Trent got hit with the prince stick for every time he got hit with the bridge troll one. Trent’s tailored suit belonged to him and his world. Business suited him as well as manual labor did Mathew.

Standing, Trent offered a hug and Mathew squeezed until Trent wheezed. A bit of a guilty pleasure for Mathew. A mostly nice outlet for him to channel the abrasiveness their relationship sometimes had.

Gesturing over the table, Mathew said. “Long time no see, Trent. Ordered for me I see. I am on time right?”

“Yeah, it’s been too long, bro. Ordering for others is… a habit these days.” Trent grimaced, for a moment looking like a normal person.

Sitting Mathew took a mozzarella stick and gestured between Jenifer and Trent. “Jen this is Trent, Trent Jen.” Introductions complete he bit into the gooey goodness of melted cheese.

Jenifer dropped her hostess speech and evaporated into the busy restaurant.

“Mathew we have to talk.” Trent said leaning forward.

“Damn right we do. First why lobster? You bring me to the best BBQ joint in miles and order lobster. I don’t get it.” Mathew said.

Trent rolled his eyes. “This is about family stuff.”

“Sure it is. So you-” Mathew stabbed the tabletop with his bulky finger “-and that family handle it.”

“It’s your family too.” Trent replied unruffled.

“Fine. What is it?” He asked.

“We are about to have a breakthrough on a new project and I’ve been sent to get you on board.” Trent switched to his sales pitch voice.

I’m done here. Mathew thought.

“Thanks for the matza.” Mathew said. As he stood and walked away.

“No wait!” Trent called out.

“No! Family stuff isn’t the same as business stuff. Business isn’t why I came here. I came here to spend time with my brother.” Mathew was causing a scene, he knew it but an angry corner of his mind also knew it bothered Trent more.

“It’s the same when I’m told by the family and owners to talk to you.” Trent replied.

“That is why I stay away. I will not become a puppet. They mix family and business to tie you down with strings bud.” Mathew’s voice was a rare mix of hurt and compassion.

He resumed walking away. It hurt. Trent was the last of his family that had treated Mathew like a person. The rest he’d written off as plastic shells of those who had once been family. It just wasn’t healthy holding on anymore. Family would cover rent, a new car, paying bills to get by until the next job… everything. The offer of help was always there but it always came with invisible strings. It wasn’t too long ago Mathew started to get wise on fabricated problems. Rates that change to drive up bills, car that breaks down shortly after taking it to the local shop. Apparently sabotage has a price. Mathew always thought it came from his mother who wouldn’t ever let go of her children and a father who was too weak to lead. What worried him was that they just kept getting more and more creative.

Damn! New investor. I’ll warn Jen to start looking for a new job. Buying my favorite restaurant is exactly the power play they would make.

As he walked to the entry his eyes caught on the sky through the long window, a red light filling the view. Not that unusual for evenings. It was watching the moon that made his mind grind to a halt. The daytime moon was enveloped from behind a deeper red that took over the heavens. In a few breaths it covered the entire horizon and began to clash with a gold light. The rolling wall of light pressed onward slower than its trip from the moon to Earth, but it still overtook the cityscape at an impossible speed. It was like watching a sci-fi bomb consume his city. The moments pause ended and Mathew found himself running to the front. He laid his hand on Jenifer’s arm.

“Look.” Mathew pointed in alarm. It was too late they had seconds at most.

She crouched behind the podium and he turned his back to the window and curled over her. Then the world turned red. The smell of Jen’s perfume and BBQ faded with all the rest of his sensations.

The red faded and his whole vision was filled with text.

Welcome to Leternum, your new world. Adapt. Live.

Transition phase.

1) Vanquish the monster.

2) Prove a crafting skill.

After having the basic skills that will be required to succeed in Leternum you will be placed into the main world of Leternum. Enhanced skill growth is granted to aid this transition phase.

The numb feeling gave way and a cold damp air set into his skin through the thin button-up shirt. The world came into focus and Mathew found himself alone crouched protectively over an empty section of rough stone. He was alone.

Doesn’t look as though I saved Jen from anything.

Fog swirled as he stood. It wasn’t a uniform fog. Thick sections cut off vision rapidly while clear spots opened spotlights into the barren landscape around. The mist slowly moved of its own unnatural accord. Different parts dispersing and gathering with no uniform or discernible cause. The whole transition from restaurant to here couldn’t have taken more than a minute. But he couldn’t even remember what the note said. Kill a monster or something like that.

Peering around the haze he didn’t see any monster. Holding his breath he tried to calm his racing heart and listen. Nothing. It was eerily quiet. Moving around he found a “clearing” where the fog was thinner so he could see further. As he approached the center of the more visible space his foot came out from under him. Mathew saw a vision of being murdered by a slime whose acid body would eat away at him while he choked. Then another image where the tongue of some enormous monster licks him into its gigantic toothy maw. The impact of landing stole air from his lungs and promised bruises. Looking down he saw a brown scum in the depressions of the rock.

Laughing to let the fear and tension out he took a breath and relaxed. Then it happened.

The warning was a scream. Twin voices, one more silky than the best singer he’d ever heard and other a nightmarish shrieking only done justice in the best of Hollywood films. This was Mathew’s monster. The woman’s gray color even to the whites of her eyes blended into the fog too well to see readily. She stepped out of the mist her voice not stopping to take another breath of air. Stepping would be wrong he corrected. The lower half of her body was a few feet of gray strips of flesh fluttering to their own breeze.

Rolling to all fours he readied to do something.

The monster drew her arms overhead the action was laborious and slow. Where each wrist should have been was instead the head of a hammer. Strips of gray flesh wrapped around the hammer head holding it tight to the end of her arm before wrapping back down around her forearm. Her endless wail seemed to echo from the stone as she stalked forward.

Mathew got to half standing when she dropped the hammers at him. He dodged to his left catching her right forearm on his. Damn that hurts! Unlike his looks he hadn’t actually been in many fights. One of the benefits of carrying an intimidating frame and face. So he was guessing somewhat at how to defend himself. He continued to his left, attempting to circle the monster and get behind it. It spun faster than he could rotate around it.

Growling in frustration Mathew clamped his hand on its rising right arm and gave an experimental jerk. The flesh was surprisingly supple for its dry looking body. Thin though, nothing but bones and trouble. It resisted but he was stronger and heavier. Brute forcing the monster to spin around and place its back to him he threw his left arm around its neck and started squeezing. Again the fragile paper dry look was betrayed by it being both sturdier and more pliable than anticipated. The wailing strangled out as the wraith’s free arm flew diagonally across its body impacting Mathew’s ribs. Pain bloomed and the distinctive crack of bones breaking ratcheted him to a new level of panic. Squeezing for all he was worth and he pulled the wraith to the ground.

Two curious things happened. First, the lower he pulled the wraith the more it repelled the ground. Making his efforts to drag it down stall about a foot from the cold stone. Second, it faded out of the stranglehold evaporating into gray smoke. For a moment he feared that he was back at the restaurant and the red light wave wasn’t real, that he just attacked Jenifer. Coughing the smoke out he forcefully dismissed the notion. This was real the pain, the cold, the touch. Calm took over. Whatever else this reality was, it was undeniable.

That realization and acceptance ended the first panicked encounter with what he would forever call the hammer hand wraith.