Chicken Scratch

Prompted by smw, "What in the everloving fuck is that thing?" with characters Trent of Raze and General Borz of Other Nations. And for shits and giggles, I stuck them in The Deadlands of, uh, Deadlands; The Monster, The Champion, and The Avianimata will all be making appearances in Part II! Split this up in two (or maybe more, I haven't figured out how to end it yet) because the lead-up alone is around 3k words, oops!

Because Trent is involved, TW for symptoms consistent with PTSD. Other than that, this is a pretty clean entry. For a more detailed description of Borz and her mobility device, you can check out this snippet of Other Nations.

What In the Everloving Fuck...
There's Utah desolate, and then there's this.

Parched earth, everything taupe and ochre: it was almost right, except instead of cloudless blue above, I found a dusty dun sky - dirty, like city air. I tested the scent of it, shivered at what I smelled - or more accurately didn't. Typically, I spent most of my days filtering out the cornucopia of odors a human mind wasn't fashioned to process; to not detect sagebrush and rodent piss-trails and the far off but inescapable chemical reek of human civilization... it was as though I'd been blinded. The shock of it made reality fray at the edges, stirred a panic that wasn't quite man or animal but uniquely trauma, and I didn't know how much time I'd lost until I found myself panting raggedly, huddled behind a boulder rattling a warning growl to nothing but fragments of sensory memory.

No - not quite. Some time between realizing the nothingness and losing myself in it, another came to occupy this strange, derelict space. In the absence of any other sound, the clockwork tic and insect-skitter noises of its approach were deafening, the heady canine musk of its body overwhelming. There was something else, too; a death smell - not of something actively rotting, but rather like old, sunbaked bones in a desert. Erratic movement, the scent of decay - this new presence conjured a heart-in-throat jolt of terror, memories of the Vore; I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep a grasp on the here and now.

--I know you are here, Vortexan.--

I couldn't make sense of it - not the words themselves, baffling though they were, but rather their origin. It seemed, and surely I had to be mistaken, that I perceived them with my mind rather than my ears.

"Well. That's a new symptom," I muttered, trying to refocus on pinpointing the location of the approaching... something.

--I can hear you. Show yourself.--

Being the survivor of multiple violent encounters breeds a certain inclination towards distrust bordering on paranoia - but beneath the violence-ready will for self-preservation was my persistent interest in novel encounters, the scientist that survived the trauma. If what I was "hearing" was not, in fact, a hallucination, but rather a being capable of telepathic communication, I would be remiss to avoid contact. Besides, if this creature had a voice, it certainly wasn't a mindless, flesh-hungry rogue zombie.

"I'm going to reveal myself," I said calmly. "I have no quarrel with you, but will defend myself as needed."

Taking a deep breath, I clambered over the top of the rock and faced the... well! At a glance, I may have thought the creature therian; beneath a thick agouti coat, it had a roughly humanoid torso with a canid face, though the thick, blunt muzzle and dropped ears bespoke a domestic origin - thus, not any known or modern therianthropy virus. What's more, there was nothing human in the scent of it, or rather her; nor - I realized, puzzled - recognizable as any canine with which I was familiar.

Arguably more striking than her unfamiliar species, however, was her mode of transportation - the source death-smell I'd detected earlier. She advanced on a mechanism fashioned from what appeared to be human bones, a suspicion confirmed when I saw the hallmark phalanges of the device's hands, though everything was configured such that they walked four-palmed and crab-like. Skeletal parts supported her entire body, like a brace of sorts: ribs to her ribs, spine to her spine, her pelvis donning pelvises. A quadruple amputee, I wondered if whatever event took her arms and legs may have also damaged her spine, or if these pieces merely served a harnessing purpose.

Normally, it would be very alarming to be confronted with someone so shamelessly donning human remains, yet I could not be unsettled when she was so utterly fascinating. Unknown species aside, the minimalist structure of her mobility aid, though connected with gears and wires, had no visible energy source - a technology with which I was equally unfamiliar.

"Oh!" I finally remarked. "Well aren't you... I don't mean to stare, forgive me. I've never seen someone quite like you." I started up the gentle slope towards her, extending my hand before realizing that I didn't know her greeting customs nor if her device could accommodate such an action. Withdrawing, I ducked my head feeling a bit abashed and said, "I'm Dr. Trent Wiktor."

She narrowed her eyes, ears flicked back. --Where is the Ambassador?--

I cocked my head, confused. "Ambassador? I'm afraid I don't... I was a public liaison, once?"

She lifted one lip, issuing a terse growl, and crept forward with spider-like movements of her borrowed limbs. --I do not know how you've brought me here, Vortexan, or for what purpose, but understand that the abduction of a General constitutes an act of war against Sobak. Unless you wish to doom what is left of your species, I suggest you return me immediately.--

I put my hands up. "I don't know how I got here, let alone how you did. And I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the places you speak of." I offered a nervous smile and joked, "I'm Missoulan, not Vortexan."

Closing the remainder of the distance between us, she leaned close, pelt bristling; I averted my gaze, assuming we might at least share that body language. --A madman; are you afflicted by radiation sickness?-- One of the device's hands reached out... and firmly groped my crotch. I sucked in a quick breath, hoping with sincerity that this was some form of greeting ritual; it wouldn't be the first I'd encountered involving invasive genital contact. After a moment, she released. --Yet you clearly aren't Raftian; curious.--

"I can assure you that my madness has nothing to do with radiation, nor anything between my legs." I cracked a smile that she didn't return. "But I am actually quite lucid at the moment, given the givens, so allow me to reiterate: I am not from wherever you think I am from, and I am as unfamiliar with this place as you are."

Keeping me in her periphery, she surveyed our surroundings, eyes widening and ears drooping with what I gathered from her next words was alarm. --Is this Fallout?--

"Fallout - as in a fallout zone?" I frowned. "I wouldn't think so; there is nothing here indicating a test site - no rubble, no evidence of human structures or activity, no scent or appearance of burning. And if you're speaking of a meltdown, we might see signs of death, but this utter absence of life having ever been here?" I put a hand up. "Listen, smell, feel. There is no wind, no humidity, no warmth from the sun. Not a whiff of any biological matter, alive or dead, aside from you and I. Even following the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, there was oleander in bloom within months, and Chernobyl is practically Eden." Pulse beginning to quicken as I spoke what I'd been feeling, I shook my head and laughed dryly. "We may as well be on the moon."

She snorted. --To a human's senses, all places are dead.--

Holding up my wrist and tapping the numerals inked there, I replied, "To a human."

Her eyes were dull, without recognition or comprehension; it seemed she was unfamiliar with a therian identification tattoo - yet any preternatural sufficiently acclimated to human civilization to possess advanced technology would surely be aware of such an egregious violation of humanoid rights. This, her unknown species, peculiar mobility aid, her method of communication - I was growing increasingly unsettled by a sense of cognitive dissonance, because what was left of my rationality afforded no room for science fiction constructs like alternate universes, yet my gut told me that she was from someplace altogether different than the world I knew. Call it an experiment: I decided to gamble on shifting to see if she knew what a therian was.

She did not seem to detect the initial surge in therianthropic energy, which suggested her origin was not preternatural. However, she grew alert at the spike in adrenaline, the quickening of my pulse as the shift proceeded. --Do not try anything foolish, Vortexan. I am not so sentimental that I will not strike down a madman.--

She startled, scuttling back several feet, as fur erupted across my skin; I itched at the discomfort of it sprouting under the cover of clothing, however loose. Claws replacing fingernails, face elongating to a snout, ears developing the mobility for expression she might be better attuned to; I remained anthropoid for speech, and also because I thought it would be a form she could better relate to as something between man and beast herself. Once fully shifted, I remained still, trying to shake my sense of trepidation lest it communicate into hostile body language.

"Are there others like me, where you come from?" I finally asked.

--That depends; what are you?-- For what her communication lacked in inflection, it made up for in the transmission of sentiment; she was not only confused, but deeply unsettled. --You are neither Transcendent, nor human. Has your kind found a way to hybridize with ours?-- She was, from what I could gather, repulsed by the notion.

"I am a therianthrope; not a hybrid, at least not with your kind." I chuckled. "I... feel so strange saying this, but I do not believe we come from the same universe, and that the one we're currently inhabiting is yet another place. I do not understand it and wouldn't think it possible, but Occam's razor demands the simplest explanation, and as crazy as it sounds, alternate universes would explain what is happening, far better than anything else I can conceive, at least."

Ear cocked back, she narrowed her eyes, distrustful. --How do I know this is not a glitch in the avatar system - or deliberate fabrication?--

I spread my hands. "You tell me. I have no idea what an avatar system is, so I don't very well have the framework to engineer a way to prove or disprove what you think is happening." Pausing, I added, "I will cooperate in whatever way is needed to end the hostility. I find you terribly interesting, and I'd also like to investigate our settings."

Baring her teeth a little, she suggested, --I could bleed you. I hear it doesn't taste quite right in system.--

Shrugging, I replied, "Do what you think best."

That I implied comfort with bodily harm, however, only seemed to further unsettle her. Puzzling over the situation, I wondered if, perhaps, I might be able to send her a message by her own means. Attempting to crystalize the thought of my good intentions, I... had no idea how to proceed. How does one shout between minds? I felt silly attempting to direct thoughts her way with no understanding of how the process worked. Still, I thought from the way her brow furrowed and ears twitched that my plan might have been working - until she shook her head in apparent discomfort.

--Stop that. A tongue-speaker trying to address someone telepathically sounds like an imbecile yammering nonsense a foreign language - badly.--

Yikes. "No insult to your culture was intended," I assured her apologetically.

She blinked, either unused to or unfamiliar with the sentiment. --I thought you were being clever,-- she replied. --The Avatar system is a direct neural connection and translates the user's words into a language and format its partner can understand. The system would have to be malfunctioning in ways far worse than visual presentation to sound like you just did; it is clear to me that we are sharing the same space.--

Ears perked, I said, "Well! Now I wish that had been my intent, that I might have claimed a good idea. Never mind, though; I can put my pride aside for the sake of this being very fascinating. You're speaking of a technology that is, where I come from, only in the infancy of its development." Taking a few cautious steps her direction, which were answered by rocking back on the skeletal limbs, but not retreating, I continued, "Speaking of tech - I hope I am not being too forward to inquire about your mobility device? It is a marvelous piece of workmanship, though admittedly I find the choice of materials a bit macabre; might I inquire the cultural context or individual rationale behind their use?"

--Context?-- She huffed. --The human race left us a planet bare of all resources but their own carcasses. There is no 'rationale,' only necessity.-- She replied curtly, then added, --Though, if we had a hundred forests or a thousand steel mills, I'd still rather this device. I believe it makes a fair statement on which capacity humans are most useful.--

I grinned a little at that. "Ah, there were times I've been misanthrope enough to have agreed with you."

Leaning closer, I tried to discern the mechanism of the device, which was of greater interest, really, than the materials. It had gears, but their only function appeared to be in facilitating movement, not generating it. Likewise, a seemingly random hodge-podge of wires, all gauges and materials thrown together in no obvious pattern, made for a sort of sinew, but did not appear to be connected to any power source nor to the body itself. I tried to listen for an electric hum, sniff for a battery, but discovered nothing.

I'd scrutinized long enough to realize I was perhaps being invasive, or rude, or both, and stepped back blushing. "Hell. There was surely a time in my life that I was more discreet. I do not mean to treat you as an oddity; I get tangled up in my own curiosity, now more than in the past."

--I don't quite know what to make of you, so you can call it mutual curiosity at this point.-- Her expression might have been amusement. --You have further questions about the device?--

I nodded. "Mostly, I can't quite figure how it is powered."

She tilted her head. -I power it.-

"Yes, but how?" I asked, gesturing the whole of it. "I know that there are myoelectric and neuroprosthetic technologies that respond to electrical activity in the wearer's tissues and can translate those messages into movement, but I do not see any sort of interface for such. And the level of precision and responsiveness is positively amazing, far better than in any engineering I've seen to date; it's as though the device is as much a mind-reader as you are."

--There is no need for an interface,-- she explained without explaining anything. --As I said, I power the device. All Transcendent are capable of such a basic level of telekinesis.-- I got the sense that she found me severely unimpressive; the tone of what followed confirmed as much. No matter; I was impressed enough for the both of us. --While the humans where I come from do not possess the ability, they at least know of it.--

"There is no such ability where I am from," I replied with a shrug. "Or at least nothing resembling this level of sophistication." I tilted my head, considering the elaborate aid. "So without you piloting its every part with your mind, I would essentially be looking at a pile of strung together bones with no real functionality?" She spread the device's foremost hands to answer. "What a phenomenal mind you have, then," I said, sufficiently tickled that even my tail was wagging. "You know, I almost don't mind this lifeless alien hellscape; you are just fantastic."

She snorted. --An utter madman... yet I am about to suggest you accompany me in exploring this place. Perhaps I, too, am mad.--

"The best people usually are," I offered, knowing that she wouldn't catch the reference. "I would be glad to poke about with you - but perhaps, first, a name? I've given you my own."

--I am General Borz of Sobak,-- she declared proudly, but almost immediately added, --Though I suppose my rank and nation are of little import to you.--

"I'd like to address you how you prefer to be addressed - so it is." I winked. "So, General Borz; the place you come from - is it barren like this?"

Her lip twitched in what I thought, hoped, was finally the hint of a smile. -There is no place barren like this; I believe we both agreed upon that.-

I laughed. "Fair enough." Turning my head to survey the landscape further, perhaps suggest someplace less exposed to settle or elsewise to gain a better vantage point, I caught something I hadn't earlier. Nostrils flared, I sniffed the air furiously, frustrated by the lack of breeze to better carry the scent - but yes, there it was, faint but unmistakable. Ears flicked back with uncertainty, I glanced her way. "Do you smell that?"

Borz was already testing the air herself, pelt slightly bristled. --Perhaps we are not so alone in this place after all.--

"Something native, perhaps? It would be a comfort to know that something lives here." Granted, I was less interested in comfort and more interested in the chance to discover what kind of organisms might inhabit the area.

--The smell was absent only moments ago.-- Borz noted. --If it were indigenous, wouldn't we have smelled it sooner?--

It was a fair point. "Well, we don't very well know how we got here; perhaps someone else has arrived similarly," I reasoned. "Shall we investigate?" I did not wait for an answer before starting off in the direction of the smell, nervous-eager, ears pricked amiably but posture tense, ready to react.

--Wait,-- Borz commanded, the word snapping through my mind sharply enough to give me pause. --It would be more prudent to seek higher ground, or at least a visual barricade, so we can observe from a distance before opting to approach.--

I chuckled. "Right you are... General, you said?" She nodded. "Unfortunately, my former rank and title was that of field scientist. Investigating new phenomenon is something of a thing for me." I resumed movements in the direction of the scent, adding, "You are under no obligation to accompany a stranger across unfamiliar terrain towards a potentially hostile unknown organism, of course," I noted. "You might do well to keep a distance; most would, where I am involved." I grinned where I perhaps should have grimaced.

Borz, however, seemed to take my suggestion as a challenge. --I survived direct combat with the Last Human Resistance - took a man's throat after he took my legs. I think I can survive you, beast-man.--