Ok, so I would like to apologize for the lack of chapters this week, between my wife(who is a teacher,) having parent-teacher conferences, meaning I had to watch baby ruth, and picking up extra shifts at the office I didn't get a chance to write.

so I will share with you one of my weekend projects, let me explain how I write so everyone knows that these other novels I am writing do not affect my current running novels in any way. that is why I keep a pretty strict schedule

I spend Monday through Thursday on I think my familiar is a demonlord, then on Friday, I write raider, leaving me open on the weekends to write whatever I want(I have three projects I bounce between,). recently the whatever I want project I have been working on is this, here have the first three chapters as my apology.

enjoy!

Synopsis:

Alyn was a half-breed, the product of a union between an elf and a dwarf, one of the people calling themselves men, or human. He was also an independent investigator for the Elanus police force, and while his life was not perfect it was also not terrible, he had Doll after all. She had been abandoned, just another golem that had outlived its purpose and had been discarded, after taking her home and fixing her up the silent automaton refused to leave his side.

When a strange cult begins using golems as suicide bombers they created specifically for the purpose it is up to Alyn and Doll to find the source of their manufacture and shut down the operation. The Automatons can be made to look like any person, and they have no fear of death, at least, not yet anyway…

A mixture of Fantasy and Cyberpunk that I have decided to call Fantasypunk, cus you know why not?

Prologue/Chapter 1:

The room was ornate.

Redwood and oak gleamed beneath the lacquer, reflecting the entire room in a hazy red that seemed to catch the light,lovingly stroke it and then allow it to go back where it could be perceived by mortal eyes. The walls were covered in an intricate design, like that of a gold grape plant as the climbing vines covered the walls, leaving behind the tendrils of there outstretched vines, curling at the ends where it had found some purchase in the white paint that was its backdrop. The furniture was likewise just as opulent, an unassuming grey, covered in the intricate dance of birds during mating season, stitched, by hand of course, in a silver thread of the highest quality.

But it was not the room that caught the elf’s attention, he was instead looking at all the people arranged before him. There were ten of them, all standing perfectly still, each ramrod straight sided by side in front of him. They looked like they were a cross-section of races that could be found in this city, Elf, Dwarf, and even the half-breed men, a bastard mixture of elf and dwarf, not as tall or beautiful as there graceful elven forbearers, or as stocky and sturdy of there dwarven ones, this mule of a race was quickly becoming much much too common. There were only a few first generation half-breeds, those that came from an elf and a dwarf, most were from the unions of human with human. It had been one of the major reasons they had been officially accepted as a race, and not some bastardization or subrace of either dwarf or elf. Some cruel hand of fate had made it so they had none of the reproductive issues both dwarves and elves shared, causing the population of human to explode over the last few hundred years. But these things in front of him were neither elf, nor dwarf, nor human, these were golems. Artificially created beings, animated with magic, they were perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

Slowly he ran a hand down the face of one of the golems in front of him. She looked like she was an elf, mildly attractive long black hair, full lips, lithe body. His hand trailed down her neck, to her collarbone, and from there to her naked breast. Squeezing the artificial flesh there he revealed at how lifelike it felt. His hand trailed even lower, wrapping around her hips and he kneaded the flesh there, feeling the supple movement of flesh and muscle beneath his hand.

But there was no muscle there, only the tubing and magical conduit that moved the power from the crystal that gave the being life to every part of its body. Life, but not life, sentients, but not sentients.

A golem.

With a smile he pulled his hand back, and once again looked at the ten automatons standing before him. They would do nicely, and they were the first of many, they would allow him and his followers to carve the flesh of the world and mold it into the desired shape. He looked at the woman he had just had his hands on and smiled brightly.

“Unit twelve,” she snapped to attention, her head lifting and her eyes focusing on his figure, his face.

“Yes milord?” she asked, the smooth voice flowing out of her artificially created lips like the softest of music.

“Today you fulfill the purpose of your creation,” he said softly, a smile of pure madness lit his face. “Today, we begin the reclamation.” his eyes roamed skyward, upto the heavens, to the forest of trees, “It shall be glorious,” he said more to himself than anyone else. “All life for Volfen.” he chanted.

“All light for Volfen,” came the chorus of ten voices, and he laughed, the soft sickening sound of madness echoing around the room, death and decay mixing with the painstaking recreations of life in new and unique ways.

A dance of life and death.

Chapter 1:

There was no need for an alarm, he opened his eyes blinked at the exposed metal frame above his head, three times he blinked and three times the ceiling swam into focus. On the forth blink he threw off the thin covers and swung his feet down to the cold tile floor, the feel of icy ceramic on his bare feet shocked him awake more than any coffee or other stimulant could have. Stifling a yawn he stood and stretched, allowing the muscles on his five foot nine-inch frame to stretch and loosen, he twisted his torso first left and then right, feeling the satisfying pop all along his spine. He looked across his small room and padded over to the small bureau bolted to the floor in the corner, his feet slapped against the cold tile with a hard tug he opened the door, inside was several sets of clothes, a pair of boots, his set of guns and a long coat.

Inside was everything he could accurately call his own.

Well almost everything, he looked back at the bed, and sitting there, one hand supporting her head was Doll.

Doll was a golem, an inanimate object given life through magic. Her solid golden eyes stared back at him without blinking, and as he watched she sat up fully. The covers fell away revealing quite the sight. Doll was naked, she had a curving figure, wide hips, full breasts, long legs. Her face was a grey skin like material, allowing it to move and stretch so she could speak and express herself.

Not that she ever did those things.

There were other places made of this same material, her breasts, for example, the area between her legs, and her ass. The rest of her, however, was combat grade, older combat grade, seeing as he didn't make that much money. None of the rest of her was soft.

Attractive in a deadly sort of way.

She was from what he could tell when he found her a combat type golem, one of the many made and designed to be fought to the death in illegal combat tournaments, which were fairly common in Elanus city. He had found her on the job one evening almost two years ago, missing three of her limbs, only her left leg still there, and that was a mangled mess. She had been stripped of good parts and thrown into a garbage heap. She hadn't even looked his way as he walked over and looked at her.

They hadn't even taken her core crystal out, meaning they wanted her to experience her end. The crystal was worthless once activated, it couldn't be used again, and once it was yanked out of a golem or cracked then the golem would die, expire. He remembered picking her up, not knowing why he found he could not just leave her here to her fate. She hadn't said a thing, not the entire drive home, she had simply stared at him, a confused look on her face.

On his pay it had taken almost a year and a half to get her back up to fully functioning state, and in that time she had never said a word. She would stare at him, all hours of the day any day she could watch him. The first part he had gotten her was a new right arm, this one while new and combat grade was one of the older models, but as soon as he had done that he had allowed her the freedom of constructing herself to her own liking. He had, of course, told her his budget, and she had listened to him, nodding her head golden hair flowing around her face, but never speaking. When she got another part he made sure to take the time right away and install it for her.

This had been all good and well up to the point he had opened a box that contained a new pelvis and hips. This part was not a military module, it was a pleasure module, he remembered looking at it for a long time and then looking back up at her, looking into that blank face that often showed no emotion he had found he was able to read something in it.

It had been worry and embarrassment.

When she had been fully repaired she had for the first time since he had known her said anything. Two words, simple, but the way she said them told him everything about how she felt. “Thank you.” was all she had said, she had then promptly thanked him another way as she had tested out her new pleasure mods. Ever since that day she had never left his side, not even for a second. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Alyn brought himself back to the present. He reached into the bureau and into the pocket of his long coat, routing around looking for his pack of stimsmokes. Not finding the he reached around and check the other exterior pocket, only to once again come up empty-handed. It took a second but the location of the box popped up in his mind he turned to retrieve the crumpled black pants he had worn the day before but stopped moving when he turned around.

Doll was standing there, still completely naked, and in her hand was a blue-green box. Before he could stop her she closed the metal hand, crumpling the pack of stimsmokes in her hand, her head cocked to the side as if to ask “When the fuck did you get these without me noticing?”.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked and watched as she raised an eyebrow and then brought her other hand up and using both formed the crumbled back into a tightly condensed sphere and lobbed it into the receptacle. “Fine,” he growled and walked over to the counter and touched the rune etched on the side of the sink basin watched as it filled up with cold water. He splashed his face and took a deep drink of the cold water freshly made with runic magic, before dropping the banishment stone into the sink and watching it all disappear. “Am I at least allowed to have coffee?” he growled his question turning to look at her, and she in reply held up a packet, this one with the words Decaf written on it. “No, that is where I draw the line, I am only twenty-five, and if I am going to drink coffee, and you can damn well bet I am, then I am going to drink the real stuff,” he said and rooted around in the drawer pulling out the coffee pot and a pack of coffee. Setting his mug under the lip he pressed the rune to create water on the side of the pot and dropped the tea like packet of coffee grounds into his cup. When the pot was full he turned on the heat rune and let it do its thing. Turning back around he found she was only about an inch away from his face, and as he turned she planted her lips against his own. They were soft, but not in any way warm, he had gotten used to that, he remembered when she had first thanked him when he had entered her she had been soft, moist, but cold as the room around him.

That had been a shock to his system, one that was quickly rectified with his own body heat, and the friction of there movements. The thought made him hard, and her hand shot down to grab along his length even as his worked around the exposed mechanical pieces of her stomach to the small of her back and onto her soft, plump ass.

Things probably would have become more heated than the coffee he was brewing if not for the familiar sensation of someone scrying him. He checked the aura of the person and cursed against Doll’s lips, her hand stopped its pumping motion and he sighed. “I gotta get this,” he said, and she said nothing like she always did. Pulling himself reluctantly away from her he walked over to the pair of discarded pants on the floor and pulled out his scrying mirror. It was a metal rectangle, shined to a reflective surface, one side smooth, the other covered in runes that ran across the back. He held it up to himself and looked at his reflection.

a twenty-five-year-old man looked back at him, his red hair was close-cropped, and the beard he had on his face reached his collarbone, three scars marred his otherwise handsome face, each running from the top of his skull on the right side and down towards the eye, carving through his hairline, which had not returned in that area after the scar tissue had replaced the once unmarked flesh. It was, however, the eyes that caught everyone’s eyes. They were not the eyes of an elf, nor were they the eyes of a dwarf. He had one of each, one his mother’s deep blue, the other his father’s bright gold.

With a sigh he allowed her to scry him.

The person that appeared on the screen was a very pretty elf woman named Ellarian Paxina looked back at him. She had blue eyes and long brown hair which she wore loose, her pointed ears peeking out of the long locks, angling down instead of up. Her high cheekbones and red lips complimented her face perfectly.

“Alyn,” she nodded to him, and then looked past him, “Doll,” she said and repeated the same nod, but as she did so a small mischievous smirk appeared on her face. “Doll, you look upset, did I interrupt something?” she asked, and Alyn looked back at Doll, who did indeed look upset, though it was only a small lowering of her eyebrows that gave it away.

“What do you need Ella?” Alyn asked, and all of a sudden Ellarian was back into professional mode.

“Have you heard the news?” she asked, and when he shook his head she went on. “There was a terror attack last night at the Chapel of Aldrus, suicide bomber, 145 killed, 87 wounded 50 of which are critical, building is a total loss.” she shook her head. “I have been put on the investigative team, think I could use your help on this one, you and Doll in?”

“Sure, we’ll get dressed and head over,” he said, and she nodded before her image faded. “Alright, let's get ready,” he said, but before he could go get his clothes Doll pushed him over on the bed and went down on all fours between his legs.

Looked like she wanted to finish what she had started before they got dressed.

It looked like Ella would be waiting a few minutes more than necessary...

Chapter 2:

Alyx pulled the long coat onto his frame, it was made from the hide of a Damu, one of the fierce creatures that lived in the northern Haultian mountain range, a creature that was both resistant to magic as well as physical force it was prized as the best of leather and was well out of his price range. It had instead been a gift from his half-sister, the long coat reached his knees, having been handcrafted to fit him and him alone, the front of the matte grey leather had three pockets, two at about waist height on either side of the jacket, and one diagonal one that was more under the left arm, allowing easy storage for any device that he held in his right hand. Four straps crossed the front allowing him to fully close the front of the jacket. When it was closed the edge of the right side was well over onto his left side, it gave the jacket an asymmetrical look, add this to the bottom hem which was indeed asymmetrical, the right side reaching mid-calf as it pointed down in a triangular shape, the left side staying straight at the knee.

Turning he looked back at Doll who was already dressed, she wore a grey shirt that only covered her breasts, leaving her stomach and all the mechanisms that formed her physiology were on display. Riding low on her hips was a grey pair of cargo pants that ended at her calves, leaving about three inches of leg showing between the bottom of the pants and the top of her black combat boots. On her shoulders she wore a long coat that was more cape than actual cape, it was strapped across her chest with a single wideband, the cut of the jacket sweeping behind her almost reaching her ankles. The Rathian fur hood attached to the jacket was so puffed up that even laid back it was visible behind her head like some sort of fur halo.

Alyn pulled the guns off of the stands in the bureau, handing the large pistol to Doll. It was a gun he had designed himself, capable of utilizing over 35 spell activation sequences that he had created. Guns were a dwarven weapon, designed for the explicit purpose of combating elves who preferred to use there natural magical abilities to attack, the concept was relatively simple, the activation sequence of the firearm is a vast amount of displaced air, the gun compresses space behind the round, effectively bending the laws of the world to form an area behind the round, and when that compression is released the matter snaps back into its former existence instantly effectively creating a very powerful, but extremely localized explosion as the matter rushed back to its original state and position.

Magic and technology normally don’t mix very well. At the most basic level magic works by bending physical law, allowing an effect to occur that would otherwise be impossible. For example, when a spellcaster produces a lightning bolt, he is causing electrons to flow from one spot to another, despite the fact that the electric potential of the destination may be equal or higher than the source. The caster has temporarily suppressed that law in their local environment. Thus, magic is a way to tell the universe "Do what I want!" It is very powerful but very personal.

Technology is the exact opposite. Technology relies on physical law to operate, and the use of a technological item or skill serves to reinforce the physical law on which it operates. When someone shoots a gun, he is relying on the chemical properties of the gunpowder to create a controlled explosion in the gun's chamber and propel the bullet forward. By using this gun repeatedly, he is actually strengthening those chemical properties, making them harder to subvert through magic.

This has always been one of the major differences between the dwarves and the elves. Elves who rely mostly on magic and thus feel that they are above the laws of reality, and dwarves who believe that to act outside the realms of the laws of the physical is blasphemous.

It was fitting then that he, the half-breed that he was had been able to work both magic and technology into one coherent whole. Each time he had the gun fire he was using magic, to propel the physical object, but he also used it when he reloaded, each clip was connected to a disc of metal he kept on his person at all times, the disc carved with runes to allow the clip to pull mana from him in order to summon raw material and shape it into new rounds for the bullets.

He watched as she pocketed a few spare clips, and pulled his own weapon off the rack. It was a small tactical machine pistol. The front of it only three inches from the trigger, the back elongated by the angled grip and the shooters stock that could fold sideways for ease of storage. He folded the stock sideways and tucked it into the leg holster he had attached to the front of his jacket at mid-chest level. And like that, they were ready to head out. Alyn looked back regretfully at the now cold cup of coffee on the counter as he lead them out into the hallway of the building.

It like the apartment it connected to was old and as such, it was in need of maintenance, not terribly but it was in need of some love if the dusty cobwebs and cracked plaster were anything to judge by. As the two of them walked down the hall the worn oaken floorboards creaked their protests. For the hundredth time since they had gotten this place, Alyn thanked anyone who cared to listen up above that he had a floor on the second story as they passed by the broken grav-lift.

Alyn pulled the collar of his jacket up and set it straight so it stood up and protected his ears as he stepped out into the snow-blanketed world. He looked around, surveying his surroundings like he always did. The city of Elanus was, like any other elven city, a mixture of architecture and nature. Tall buildings grew some hundreds of stories tall, magic projections and advertisements covered the faces of buildings as they pranced about and showed off their products. Throngs milled about in the street, millions of bodies pulsed and flowed like a living thing.

And like all things Elven they tried to cover the ugly with nature, here and there trees grew, twisting things that wrapped around buildings and attempted to hide the modern away from sight. Bushes divided lanes, and provided protection from prying eyes. But it only served to make things more ugly in his eyes.

It was like putting a pretty dress on an ugly child.

The dress did nothing to make the child more pretty, in actuality, it simply highlight the contrast between its own elegant beauty and the ugly visage of the one it covers.

That was why he liked winter best, when all the pretty coverings died, when things faded away revealing the city beneath, it was like a breath of fresh air, like seeing the macabre face of the city when all its lies were stripped away.

With a small sigh, he looped his arm with Doll’s and the two of them entered into the flowing stream of bodies as they made their way to the transport garage half a block down the street. Alyn’s transport was a pseu as it was called by local standards, a two-seater that utilized anti-gravitational magic to hold the front end up, and the back was propelled and supported by a single wide wheel which was controlled in the cockpit by a directional mechanism that when pushed forward it caused the wheel to rotate, effectively driving them forward. The vehicle was around nine feet long, matte grey, and only four wide, making it a tight fit for the two of them.

It was called a pseu due to its nature of pseudo flight, seeing as only the front half of the vehicle actually flew. The two of them got in and he pressed his hand into the activation rune. With a soft sound, the anti-gravity magic kicked in and displaced the air in front of the pseu, causing the previously tipped craft to straighten.

Alyn grabbed the control rod that was situated in front of him and pushed it forward, the vehicle moved out of the garage smoothly and maneuvered into the driving street. Elanus had two types of streets, ones for pedestrians and ones for vehicles. As he drove he glanced over at Doll who was looking out the window. “Whatcha’ thinking about?” he asked, and she turned her head to him and gave a small shrug, a near imperceivable raising of her shoulders, he nodded and allowed the silence to drift back into the vehicle. It was one of the things he liked about Doll, she didn't talk much, in the entire two years he had known her she had only said two words. It fit him, seeing as he also was not one for small conversation.

It meant that when she did talk they were not idle words, but ones that she truly meant.

It was part of the reason he almost crashed when he heard her speak. “Love you.” she said, softly, but it was there, he blinked and glanced over at her, but she had once again turned to look out the window.

“Love you too,” he grunted, clearing his throat and looking once more at the road as the snow-covered world streaked by the two of them…

Chapter 3:

The Pseu tipped forward slowly as the anti-gravity magic shut down, The two of them stepped into the cold snowy world and shut the doors behind them. Alyn looked at the protective barrier set up around the cathedral. It was a golden shimmering mass of magic, and it blocked all view of the destruction behind its golden sheen. There was a crowd of people, several thousand in fact that were all standing and milling about waiting for some information or a glimpse at the destruction.

Alyn pulled out his scrying mirror and leaned his rear against the side of the car, thumbing the rune on the back that allowed him to scry others. Ella only took a second to answer him, “I'm here.” he said, and as soon as he had he found several sets of eyes on him, looking up he found a familiar face moving through the crowds his way and groaned. “You better hurry the press is hot on my tail.” Ella nodded and hung up.

The woman that made her way through the crowd his way was none other than the reporter Aryial Hartun, a tall elven woman who only cared about the stories, so much so she was not afraid of using her body to get her stories if she could. He had been game when he was younger, right up until she had told him that she needed to seduce another man for a different story.

She had asked him to understand, telling him that it meant nothing, it was just sex. But he was done, done and gone at that. He sighed, today was going to be an interesting day, what between the caliber of the crime, his ex on her way to grill him and his-

“Alyn, if they are calling you out it must be a serious event.” Aryial said, as the hovering recorder passed by her shoulder and hovered between the two of them before the thing flashed green indicating a live connection, “This is Aryial Hartun live with Elanus news five, your favorite source for all news.” she went into full reporter mode, her modified bust swelling to an even larger size, as her black hair cascaded around her in the cool winter wind. “Joining me today is Alyn Tarken, a private investigator who has just arrived on the screen, Alyn what can you tell us about the terror attack that happened here?”

Alyn sighed, of course, she had not even asked if he wanted to be interviewed, that was how it always worked. “Depends, what do you already know?” he asked, more as a stalling method than actual interest in helping her.

“145 killed, 87 wounded, an unknown amount of critical patients.” she rattled off the numbers, only slightly surprised at his willingness to answer.

“Last I heard it was 50 in critical, however, that was over an hour ago and the numbers might have changed.”

“Is it know what Reverend Tolmus status is?” she asked.

“Not by me.” he answered with a shake of his head, she bit the lower lip in a cute gesture that would undoubtedly captivate her male audience. He looked around but found no sign of Ella, much to his disappointment.

“Do you think this attack was in response to Reverend Tolmus’s statement about the potentate?” she asked, and he looked up to see Ella walking through the crowd, parting it like waves around an iceberg.

“Couldn't tell you,” he said, standing up, Doll walking from her side of the vehicle and standing at his side, not a step behind him.

“Can’t? Or won't? ”

“Both,” he said with a smile and walked away, Doll right at his side. He heard her spout off her exciting phrase and then the rhythmic click of her heels as she rushed to catch up with him, she was average height for an elf woman, standing at seven foot five inches, the heels adding a good three inches on her height.

“Alyn, could we perhaps get a drink after your done today?” she asked softly, her black hair blowing around her head like a black mist.

“Fishing for more stories?” he asked a slight smile on his lips, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his longcoat, the warm fur of the color tickling his cheeks and the back of his ears.

“What? No, I just want to catch up and to talk, about us,” she said, she bit her lower lip again, but the gesture was lost on him as he was watching Doll, who had tensed slightly at the elf’s words. “You know get back to the good days, stuff like that.”

“You know I wouldn't mind that,” he paused, ”Except for the fact that the good days as you called them are long past, and if I remember correctly you need to be free to what was that again? Oh right, you need to be free to pursue any lead by any angle necessary.” he laughed at the pursing of the lips that Aryial did at that, “And besides I am pretty sure Doll would murder us both in the most painful way possible.” he said, and Doll looked over and simply nodded in confirmation.

“Ah, Aryial, I see you are harassing my brother again,” Ella stated dryly as she finally got to them. “You sure you don't want me to file that restraining order?” she asked turning towards Alyn, one eyebrow raised. She and Aryial had once been good friends, but after she had gotten the truth out of Alyn behind the reason the two of them had broken up she had turned cold and distant to the reporter.

“He is your half-brother, not your brother.” Aryial’s eyes narrowed, “And he needs help, he thinks this thing,” she gestured in Doll’s direction, “Is an acceptable replacement for an actual person’s affection.”

“No, he is my little brother, I was there when he was born, I helped raise him, and as for Doll,” she glanced at the Automaton who was currently inspecting her gun in a casual manner, even as the point of the gesture was lost on no one. “She's alright, don't see her sleeping around do we?”

“It is a tool, nothing more!” Aryial snarled. “I talked to him about it! I didn't do it not when we were together, and if he had said no then I wouldn't have!”

“The fact that it was on the table, to begin with...” Ella shook her head, “Come on Alyn we have a job to do.” and without another word she walked off, Alyn and Doll following behind.

Ellarian Paxina was an attractive elven woman, short for her race, at only six foot eleven inches she still commanded an air of elegance and superiority as she walked. Her maroon police gear hugged her like a second skin, and she was saved from indecency by the armored plates that had been strapped to it. “I see things still haven't changed there.” she sighed, using an armored hand to push the loose strand of hair out of her face. “Don’t even know why she still tries, and in front of Doll.” she shook her head. “Must have a death wish.” Doll, who had reholstered her firearm nodded. She looked at the Automaton and thought back to the private conversation she had with the golem when she had started following Alyn around…

***

“Spill it,” she growled at Doll, who was sitting in front of her, she didn't much care for the amount of money and time her brother had invested into this Automaton, but it had given him something to do. And he really needed something to take his mind off of Aryial, she still could not believe the bitch, she had been her friend for the past seventy odd years, and this was how she treated her little brother?

Unbelievable.

Doll simply tipped her head to the side, as though she hadn't understood, ”Cut the shit, I know you can talk, so talk.“ she pulled a chair over and turning it around sat in it, her arms crossed over the back of the chair and her chin resting on them. “He spent a ridiculous amount of money and time putting you back together, now you are, what will you do?”

“Stay with him.” the Doll had said, her voice soft and musical as she answered, her golden lips framing the words like they were precious.

“Why?”

“I love him,” she said instantly, no pause to think.

“I doubt you even know what that means,” Ella growled.

“It means that I would die for him, that I would kill for him, and that his opinion is the only thing that matters to me in this world.” Doll answered, her golden eyes raised to the now startled Ella.

“Well, shit.” She blew out a breath, looking away and shaking her head, “I guess you do know what it means,” a smile blossoming on her face.

***

Ella shook her head, clearing the memory out of her head, yeah, Doll was alright in her book. That had been an important conversation, not only because she knew her brother was in good hands, but also because it had convinced her that golems were actually alive, a debate that had been held for countless generations.

If Doll was not alive and sentient than no one was.

“I was assigned a BB.” she said, leading them through the magical barrier, Alyn groaned as he heard this. She used the slang term for a new investigator, one that they put under the tutelage of a more experienced investigator, it stood for Blue Boy, but it also sounded awfully close to the word Baby when said out loud.

“Please tell me you didn't call me over to play babysitter.” he sighed.

“Hey now, you know I still have six months left on paying off that coat, six fuckin’ months.” she snapped, but there was a laugh in her voice.

“Maybe you should have got me something less expensive,” he stated back his standard quip when she brought this subject up.

“Nah, it was a good investment, now I won't have to tell mom about how her precious baby bit the dust because he was careless.” she laughed, but there was something behind those eyes of hers, some dark thought. “I need you to still be around for my 200th birthday.” she laughed.

“I doubt I'll be dead before next year,” he quipped back, and she punched him in the shoulder hard.

“Asshole, you know I'm only 120,” she was glad he was born when he was, of all three races human were the shortest lived, there lifespans about half of what an elf's was. He had been born when she was ninety five, meaning she would not outlive him. If she was lucky enough to reach near her 200th birthday then he would be near his 100th, she didn't want to have to bury him. “Mom is still in anguish over letting her little baby out into the cold cruel world.” she laughed, banishing the depressing thoughts from her head.

“Still? It's been what six years?”

“Yeah, she still feels bad about letting out a child of 19 move out, she didn't let me move out until I was 55, you know?”

“If it was up to her I would be there until I was an old man.” he shrugged, and fell silent as the rubble that had been the cathedral came into view. The building was completely unrecognizable, the explosion had collapsed the entire thing, it looked like a sandcastle that had been kicked, bits and pieces everywhere, it would have looked comical the way it toppled if it was not for the healthy splashes of red that colored the white brick. That and the carts of retrieved body parts set to be sorted and counted. “What a fuckin’ mess.” he said looking at the disaster through the golden light of the privacy dome.

“Yep,” she answered, also surveying the damage. “We got our work cut out for us.”