Author's Note::I've seen / understand the (very reasonable) push to get on to seeing Sara. I've done some chopping and rearranging to get us there quicker than originally written. The outcome is that this chapter and next are on the beefier side (2,500+ words), and another section that would have been included has been shifted to show up later. As always - your patronage and feedback is appreciated. -CoJoGo
The city he found himself in was utterly and entirely breathtaking - and he was frustrated and bored.
Reid had tried to go out and walk the city to keep himself occupied while he not-so-patiently waited for Marlene to return from the goddamn moon, so he could get her to tell him where his daughter was. He had started to recall that he hadn't quite parted with the woman on the best of terms, forcing her to flee with everyone else when he sacrificed himself, but... well, that was a millennia ago. But, his 'escorts' around town were more like babysitters, and wouldn't let him just walk around on his own.
He'd developed a keen enjoyment for somewhat solitary travel, so having these people hanging onto his heels was seriously aggravating. Did he still find bits of enjoyment? Absolutely. Were those all related to his daughter? Also yes.
New Sanctuary had nearly half a dozen museums, dedicated to pre-awakened Earth, and the early years after the planet became part of the cosmos. The crowning exhibit - in his mind - of the 'Pre-System Earth Daily Life Museum' was an interactive exhibit on 'old entertainment' featuring a fully functional computer system running frogger. The ones about post-awakening gave him additional details around just how long and how often his daughter had spent fighting after their tutorial. She'd been a strong woman from the jump, and people naturally fell in to follow her. There were even replicas of her bone weaponry, though they noted the fakes were crafted at a higher level than the point in time they represented, for longevity of the props. He stepped through a series of displays on regional conflicts, extraterrestrial wars that included a truly sci-fi-esque beast waves from outer space, a history of how Luna became the hub it was now (it had gained its own crystal deposits when Earth was awakened), and a 'the future is bright' style video detailing the ongoing work to completely conquer the ocean and underground of their remaining beast life.
He took a mental note on that one with the intent to send it back to Hugo. If Vuxarina was like Earth, the 'domain wars' quests didn't extend under surface level, and there were going to be some real monsters lurking in the wet and dry depths. He had a hint of regret that he hadn't tried fighting the things themselves while he was still there. Throughout his experience, his daughter's shining leadership and unwavering resolve brought tears to his eyes. The images and statues of her spoke to a face shaped by the pressure of her position, but one nearly unweathered by the march of time.
The fact that so much time had passed was most visible in the city and people themselves. Advanced technology beyond the reach of his understanding was in the palm of every person they passed. Magic signs and displays moved in ways that made Reid think of lifelike holograms. Transports flew in heavily trafficked transportation lanes - and a few people zoomed by overhead in designated personal flight zones. The city itself was unnaturally clean and impossibly alive. He saw more tools and systems and shopfronts than he had reference for, and he knew much of what he witnessed was lost through his lack of knowledge on what he was actually seeing. There were some familiar things, of course. Clothing stores and restaurants, taxis and street food vendors - though the vendors were operating hovercraft that often floated up to the transit lanes to catch hungry commuters.
His tour guides, he noticed, tried to keep him in the same, roughly 30 block radius around the 'diplomatic residence' where they were staying. He figured, if he was going to explore the city, he may as well explore the whole thing. Lycra and Jenna had only joined him on the first few days, and he'd been by himself the rest of the week.
Because, of course, it had been a whole week. And of course, the treaty on Luna was keeping Marlene longer than intended.
That was how Reid found himself using a large, touchscreen-tablet terminal at the intersection of two walking paths, while his entourage were mostly busy in the store behind him, trying to get Reid more Earth-appropriate clothing custom made in, as they put it, 'his unusual size'. He scrolled through a list of restaurants, hoping to find something simple for dinner, when a tablet function he hadn't noticed caught his eye. It looked similar to the old 'filter' button you'd see in software, though the top of the funnel was inverted in color. Ticking it, Reid was brought to a list of search criteria that showed a few of his quick filters applied, as well as things he hadn't selected himself. He poked the option that said 'First District', and then picked 'All Districts' from the dropdown set of options.
The size of his query results ballooned tremendously, and he flung his finger just to watch the list fly past him. The search now included things far beyond the 30 blocks his tour guides wanted him to see. The list slammed into the bottom of the results, and he gave it a much lighter pull back up, noting a deep-sea-monster seafood restaurant named "Zwyieka Rybna" just before it slid out of frame. He absentmindedly continued through past the dozens of "Xerxes" inspired names, and was losing interest in the act when another name caught his eye.
Warren's - Simple pre-awakening style dishes and beer. 3.74 / 5 Rating. 82 blocks South, 18 blocks West of current terminal location.
His memory flashed with what James had shared during their reunion. Mark - the wood mage that helped build the fortifications back at Sanctuary - was still alive, and had named his bar after the beer mage that passed away defending the ramparts so long ago. What were the chances it was the same spot? More importantly - if that was Mark's place, would his entourage let him go there - and did he even want them to show up with him?
Reid looked back, and found two of his babysitters eyeing him with passing interest. "Did you find somewhere you would like us to take you?"
He nodded slowly as his finger flicked back down to the bottom of the list and he decreased the text size. He pointed at the sea monster restaurant, and beckoned them to come closer. "I think I'd like to go here."
One stepped closer, and he casually slipped a step behind the other that was typing information into their tablet. Babysitter one was fumbling with the text size controls on the terminal. It was as good an opportunity as he was bound to get. Reid let power flow into his leg muscles, and darted around the corner, then jumped high into the air with a series of soft scuffs of his shoes. His arcane wings manifested and tore holes in the back of his shirt as he flapped and rocketed himself South. Neither of his babysitters had even made it around the corner by the time he was gone, and he let himself smile. Even if he was wrong, this was the most exciting thing he'd done all week.
##
The buildings grew less impressive - and imposing - as he traversed the many blocks through the city. At one point, where a local enforcer vehicle crossed the street in front of him, Reid landed and changed his clothing to something less stand-outish, complete with a relatively large hood he used to cover his obviously extraterrestrial looking face. He wasn't the only one around that didn't look human, and he actually noted an increase in the variety of species he saw as he walked the last few dozen blocks to his destination.
Warren's was a simple, two-story tall building that took up half a block all on its own. Like many of the buildings around it, the space sported faded paint and signs that only seemed to half-work. Magic holograms were on each side of the name, with a drumstick on the left, and just the foam portion of what had to be a mug of beer visible on the right. The hours painted into the front door's window were partially-scratched-off, but seemed to mean the place was open. Reid took a breath, and pulled.
A mixed scent, like deep fried chicken, hoppy beer, and a clean woodworking shop filled his nostrils the instant he opened the slightly squeaky door. A trio of white-haired men were to his left, smoking cigars and watching a fourth, bald and orange man shooting pool. A smattering of figures hunched over the bar, most of them avian or the same grey marine individuals he'd seen previously. A brunette with greying hair tied in a messy ponytail perked up from washing a mug, and waved him over to the bar. He took a seat a respectful distance from the other patrons, farther to the left of the bartop, and close to a door that seemed to lead to the kitchens.
"Welcome to Warren's. What can I get ya?"
An old portable radio sat at the very edge of the bar before the door, playing CCR's 'Lodi'. He looked at the items scribbled into a tablet made to look like a chalkboard.
"Ah, can I get a pint of the Saison of the Witch, and the, ah, daily special - the dirty garlic parmesan wings with fries and onion rings?"
"You got it, sugar. Mark! One Daily!"
A grunt echoed through the opening, and something sizzled as aromas wafted through the door. Reid suddenly realized he had no idea how he wanted to do this. A wooden mug with a healthy head of foam was plopped onto the bar before him, and he took a deep swig. It was very well brewed. His eyes went up to the wall, where rows and rows of mugs sat unused. He couldn't help but notice those with a "W", one with an "L", and another with an "R" on the center of the highest shelf. Well, that was one idea.
He hunched over a little, and closed his eyes as he did his best to recreate James's wooden mug, with the ornate J set into the side. When he finished, the low-grade quickly-crafted work popped into his hand, and he quickly swapped the beer in the wooden mug to his osteal creation. The bartender gave him a suspicious look when she noticed, then rolled her eyes. Apparently it wasn't a noteworthy occurrence for people to use their own mugs.
A familiar old man hurried through the doorway a few minutes later, carrying a series of plates on a wide wooden tray. He passed by Reid and served the regulars first, then took a basket of onion rings to the group playing pool before returning to the bar to give Reid his dish. The man hardly looked five years older than when he'd first seen him in Sanctuary's rec hall. His weathered skin and reddened cheeks were the same, and his white beard had grown longer, tied together in a net. His gaze locked on the bone mug on the bar, then slowly lifted to Reid. He turned to the bartender a few seconds later.
"Tinny - Kitchen's closed!" He turned back to Reid. "You, come back here. We're going upstairs."
Behind the bar and through the kitchen was an older, but more opulent room complete with a wide staircase to a second level. It looked like the kind of space that got rented out for weddings. Mark marched them both through a maze of old tables, and grabbed four growlers from behind the shelf of a less-used bar, then brought them over to a high table with soft chairs. He popped two, and handed one to Reid.
"So, kid, tell me how you know James, and tell me why you're in my bar."
Reid took a sip of the drink, and waffled on whether this was a good idea. But, hell, he wasn't making progress anywhere else. Maybe it could speed things up if it meant he could see Sara sooner. And - both she and James seemed to still trust the man in front of him.
"I know him the same way you do. A little campground with a lizard problem. Among other things. I think your beer's gotten even better than Warren's, actually." He shifted the J to an R on his mug, trying to match the detail that Mark had originally made for him. The man looked down at the mug, and his eyes narrowed, then he stared into Reid's. Silence stretched.
"Huh. So where the fuck you've been?"
Reid was shocked silent. The old man gave a chuckle at his silence.
"The cosmos is full of weird shit. And I'm too damn old to play games. So, either you're him, somehow, or you're a crazy fuck that's at least got a good story to try to pawn off. Either way, what's the story?"
Reid took a long swig of beer, and wished it actually affected him. Then, he shared the story. At its end, Mark had graduated to the second growler of beer, and his body was heavily leaned in his chair, one arm draped over the side. When he realized Reid was done talking, he let out a grunt.
"So... now that I've said all that, do you know any way I can find out where Sara is? Or see Marlene quicker?"
The man burped, and he took another gulp from the growler. "First, that story sucks. A miraculous revival, and the first thing that happens is you get your ass kicked and kidnapped? Then prison, and then some fucking slave world? What kind of sadistic fuck made all that shit up?"
Reid opened his mouth, but Mark kept talking.
"Second, too fantastical. You can't get that much more powerful than other people, and you threw in too many cosmic firsts to make it half believable. Lies have to be at least half realistic."
"But I-..."
"Third, you're an idiot. I knew Reid for all of a few weeks, a thousand goddamn years ago. You think I remember him well enough to judge whether he's sitting across the table from me? And - double idiot - you slipped a diplomatic escort just to bring trouble to my bar? Stupid."
"They didn't-..."
"FOURTH - you have shit references. I sure as hell don't trust the fucking law. And I love James, but that man's been gone a hell of a long time with more than one screw loose. So your reason for being here is full of fucking holes."
The man slowly raised his arm that had been draped over the side of the chair, to reveal a wooden spear so dark, it was practically black. Light reflected off its surface, and Reid saw a blinking illumination coming from a tablet set on the floor. His heart dropped.
"Not again with this - look, I can explai-..."
The spear closed, and Reid reflexively tried to dodge. His chair fell over backwards, and he tumbled back - into a set of legs. The woman they belonged to wore a sleek black set of armor - and a completely unamused look. She pointed a handgun at his head.
"Fifth - you picked the worst way to try and weasel into The Empress's orbit. We've been dealing with shitheels like you for centuries. And impersonating the Pathfinder's Father carries the death penalty on Earth."
Mark grunted his assent.
Jim Croce's 'You Don't Mess Around with Jim' echoed up the stairwell.
Marlene Benson, the Grand Marshall of Earth and his best link to Sara, pulled the handgun's trigger.