Dizzy opened her eyes, which came alive with a fire hotter than all the Seven Hells spoken of in Westeros, the steel in them sharper than the tip of the black arrow that brought down Smaug the Dragon over Laketown in Middle-Earth, the glare she gave the Goat-Demon the darkest to grace such an angelic countenance since Lois Lane had mourned the Death of Superman. Now no longer naked — she wore the leather corset, pants, and boots of the alternate-universe Evil Willow; where had the clothes come from? Had she actually hacked the Neuroscape with just her thoughts? It appeared she had! — she snapped the bonds on her ankles with a quick kick of one leg, and made a whip-quick motion with her arms and snapped the ropes that bound her wrists. She grabbed the Goat-Demon’s clawed hand that had been reaching for her stomach. From the look on its “face” — if it could be said to have a face — this surprised it.
“Ah-ah-ah,” she said. “This being our first date and all, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask for at least dinner and a movie before I let you get to second base. Jerk.” And with that, she brought her leg up and kicked it in the Rocky Mountain bighorn head. It let out a bestial snort and bleated in pain — BAAAAAH! — and stumbled to one side. Dizzy leapt up off the stone altar and planted her feet on the obsidian floor of the Satanic cathedral, her fists raised before her. She briefly took one hand and made the “terminal” NeuroScape gesture . . . and miracle of miracles, it worked! A holographic keyboard appeared before her. Mystikite's Roleplayer Generisys Modules. She hoped they were still online. As the Goat-Demon recovered from her blow and staggered back toward her with an angry bleat and a snort — unsheathing its enormous black broadsword as it did — Dizzy hurriedly finished typing out her quick series of commands, and a sword and dagger materialized, each in a sheath and both buckled around her waist. Thank the gods! Thank you Mystikite!
The Goat-Demon came at her, then, swinging its sword up over its head, meaning to cleave her in two. She dodged the blow by ducking and rolling over, landing back on her feet in a crouch. The NeuroScape made it all real to her nerve-endings; the hot, wet smell of the air, the solidness of the stones beneath her, all of it. Especially the Goat-Demon. Its sword clanged to the ground; the thing was strong, but slow, and wielding that sword kept both of its hands busy. Now if only the damned thing would put on a pair of frakkin’ pants!
It attacked again; this time, it swung its sword to the side and slashed at her. She danced out of the way and actually felt herself laugh as the heavy blade cut nothing but the air where she’d been. He had missed — but only just barely. A small bloody cut had appeared on her side through a gash in her corset. Ouch; she hadn’t even felt it at first. The damned thing’s sword must’ve been frakkin’ sharp! The Goat-Demon roared and attacked again, this time slashing the other way; she couldn’t get out of the way in time — the thing obviously hadn’t been using its full strength, before, for now the sword swung quickly — and so she blocked as best she could with her own sword. Steel met steel, the sound ringing out high and clear. She pushed against the Goat-Demon’s sword-blow with all her might, throwing her entire weight into fending it off. It withdrew, then advanced and swung again, this time slashing at her diagonally. She put her sword up and steeled her muscles against the blow, which came swiftly. With all her strength, she forced the Goat-Demon’s blade back, and back, until finally it withdrew. It regarded her for a moment.
You should not be able to do such as you are, came silken, slithery whisper inside her skull. Your resistance to us is impressive. But it is of no consequence. I will have you. I will enter you. I will become you, human.
Was it her imagination, or did she sense a slight bluff in its tone of psychic voice? Hmm. Hope for the best.
“Not bloody likely!” she exclaimed, and attacked with a primal yell of fury. The thing put up its great-sword to defend, but she feinted at the last second and brought her blade up and around its defenses, slamming it into the Goat-Demon’s side. Metal cut flesh, and the creature roared in pain and protest as it went stumbling to the side. So, the thing was mortal after all! She rejoiced quietly. It could be wounded; thus, it could be killed. She pulled her blade free of its flesh — black ichorous blood bubbled out of the wound, splashing on the stones below; whatever it touched blackened and decayed, burnt to a crisp. She cringed.
Mental note, she thought. Do not let that stuff touch you.
The Goat-Demon came at her again, this time thrusting its sword at her like a javelin. She tried to move out of the way, but the blade caught her in the upper thigh, cutting deep into the muscle. She cried out and fell, catching herself on the Satanic altar just in time. Seeing her wounded, weakened, the monster attacked again; it swung back its sword for a finishing blow, but summoning all her Slayer Strength, she raised her sword, one handed, and swung it one handed; her parry deflected the force of the Goat-Demon’s blow just enough. Heaving for breath, her leg singing hymns of agony and fury, she hopped on one foot and lunged at the Goat-Demon, her sword pointed toward its gut. It backed out of the way quickly and easily; Dizzy lost her balance, and fell to the ground, blood covering her leg, skirt, hands, and corset. She was growing lightheaded. If she did not do something soon, she would die from loss of blood — or at least her body — two levels up, beyond the simulation, and beyond that simulation — back in the real world, would.
“C’mon, gods of genre savviness, don’t fail me now!” she said.
In the distance, a peel of thunder rumbled; the Goat-Demon snarled and looked about itself, as though smelling the approach of something foul. Suddenly, a blindingly-bright, dazzling ball of shimmery white light came drifting through the wood of the Cathedral doors, speeding just above the floor. It flew past the Goat-Demon, and hit Dizzy square in the chest, passing through her like a ethereal mist lit by angels. She felt a sudden zing filling her, and was dizzy-headed, if only briefly, with a sudden, overpowering feeling of ecstasy and pleasure; it felt as though a honeycomb had melted inside of her, flooding her veins with the nectar of the gods. Bright arcs of lightning leapt to and fro across her body, her muscles, her sword, dancing upon the metal studs in her corset. Her eyes saw sharper; the noise of the chittering spiders and bats up above grew noisier; but her sword suddenly felt lighter in her hand, and her leg . . . her leg was completely healed!
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Wowzers. What the frak had that been? No time to think about it. Only time to fight. And either live, or die. Renewed courage and strength swelled within her, and she attacked, striking out at the hideous beast for all that she was worth. She brought her sword swinging around in a wide arc, forcing the creature to defend itself. It backed up as it deflected her blow with its great-sword. She leapt closer to it — her reflexes wildly fast now — and kicked the Goat-Demon in the stomach just as it readied its sword for yet another attack. It stumbled back further. Good. Intuition told her that if she could just force the thing outside the Cathedral, then it would dissipate, going back to wherever hell-dimension it had been summoned from. She swung her sword again, once more forcing the Goat-Demon to defend; it quickly checked the space between itself and the now-destroyed doors of the Cathedral, and bleated angrily. In a flurry of motion, it attacked, its movements so fast that they blurred across the canvas of time. Yet Dizzy was fast, too — at least, now she was — and she easily dodged the blow, deflecting its force with a swing of her own sword, held two-handed, for balance and for power. She executed a quick spin-kick, the metal toe of her boot landing squarely in the thing’s other side, cracking a few of its ribs with a satisfying crunch. The Goat-Demon stumbled to the side, dropping its sword in the bargain; it went clattering to the stone floor of the Cathedral as the Goat-Demon recovered and came at her again — this time with a dagger that she had seen hidden in its belt earlier.
She whirled around, using the charging beast’s momentum against it; she quickly sheathed her sword and drew her own dagger. They circled one another, each feinting briefly, each trying to fake the other out. Finally, the Goat-Demon charged her, tossed its dagger in the air, caught it, flipped it around, and brought it screaming through the air straight at her heart, and all just barely before she could move a foot to the left and dodge the blow, right in the nick of time. Another cut opened, this time on her arm. As the creature brought its arm down to stab her and she whirled out of the way, she grabbed hold of its head and locked her arm around its neck, then brought her knee up sharply, smashing the thing’s goat-snouted face squarely into the bone there. It hurt like all Seven Hells, but at least she had the satisfaction of seeing the damned thing bleed some more. Goat-Demons healed rapidly, apparently . . . already, the chunk she had taken out of its side with her sword earlier was halfway closed, the blood there clotting. She would have to do a lot more damage before this thing could be laid low.
Dizzy decided to rush the monster, and did so. She went charging forward with a yell, swinging her dagger before her in bright, quick arcs, wielding it like it was a miniature sword, or perhaps an artisan’s cutting tool. The Goat-Demon backed up further, gradually headed toward the entrance to the Cathedral, fending off her attacks with its own dagger, its reflexes matching her speed almost blow for blow; those these did land cut it on the stomach and shoulder; black blood oozed forth from the wounds. She withdrew and attacked again, this time feinting and then cutting it on the arm; then, she pulled back again, only to lunge at it once more; this time she feinted and the creature fell for it, and she stabbed it squarely on the other shoulder — the one belonging to the arm holding the dagger — her blade sinking all the way into its flesh. The Goat-Demon roared in protest as more of its black blood came bubbling out. Dizzy was careful not to let any touch her, and yanked back on her blade, freeing it. The monster shifted its dagger to the other hand, its left arm now hanging there useless. It bellowed an angry bleat at her. She moved to attack again, successfully faked the creature out: Just as she appeared ready to lunge, she dropped to the ground and swept her legs under the beast, knocking its feet out from under it. The Goat-Demon came crashing to the stone floor; she got up just as it was trying to right itself, and kicked it in the snout. Its head whipped to the side and it stabbed at her, its blade going all the way into her side. She cried out in pain, and stumbled back as the creature rose to its feet. Clutching her side with her free hand, she blocked its next attack by throwing up her arm and holding it there. Panicked, she swiftly brought her knee up and into its exposed groin and the distended testicles and serpent-penis that hung there. The Goat-Demon roared in agony as her knee slammed into its junk, doubling over, and Dizzy moved in for the attack. She dropped to her knees, reached in, and stabbed her dagger at the thing’s genitals; her blade sunk all the way into its left testicle with a sickening sound, like rotten fruit being sliced with a dull knife.
Black, acidic blood exploded outward in freshets — a few drops of it landed on her hand and she screamed in agony as it ate through her flesh — and the creature dropped to its knees, goat-screaming in pain. She leapt to her feet and kicked it in the chin, and its overlarge goat’s-head went lolling back on its neck. It dropped its dagger and flopped over onto its side, clutching its genitals. Dizzy stood over it, gazing down at it as it lay there, twitching, bleating. She picked up her dagger, lifted it high, and slammed it down into the thing’s neck. More of its black, poisonous blood poured out, and she backed up quickly. The Goat-Demon lay dead, coated in its own acidic blood — she noted, curiously, that its blood did not eat through its flesh once freed from its veins — and Dizzy stood above it, panting for breath and clutching her bleeding side.
She looked, then, and realized she was no longer alone: There, standing by the altar, dressed in a suit of leather armor featuring many buckles and straps, was a young African-American girl she recognized, a girl with frizzed-out hair and too much makeup over her eyes, making her look something like a feisty, demented raccoon.
Dizzy panted for breath and smiled at her. “Thanks, Astrid. I owe you one. Several, in fact. How’d you do that, anyway? Get . . . inside me like that?”
The Goat-Demon's carcass began to make sizzling noises, and billowing plumes of smoke rose from it. Dizzy turned around to look. Egads, what a disgusting sight: Something was burrowing its way out of the Goat-Demon's asshole. A vile, slime-covered, smoldering larvae of some kind, wrapped in the wings of a bat or a dragon, it writhed and mewed, this newborn atrocity, smooshing its way out through the Goat-Demon's ass-cheeks and plopping into the floor of the Cathedral. Dizzy — and Astrid — backed away from the sight — jeesh, how sick could you get? — as the thing on the floor flopped around and uttered its birth-cry: A chittering mewl, its tentacled-mouth opening wide, revealing a maw of razor-sharp teeth. And then, it began to grow.
“Aw crap,” said Dizzy. “We’d better get the frak outta here.”
“I heartily concur, Diz,” said Astrid. “Let’s book.”
Then they ran for it, headed for the doors of the Cathedral, as behind them the slime-covered monstrosity from the Goat-Demon’s ass began to change and enlarge even further.
