A sequel to the Gun Princess Royale. Yanked off the streets of New Angeles by the tenebrous Pantheon organisation, and gifted with a deadly avatar known as a Diva, Nikola 'Sola' Raynar is a Lanfear - a huntress of Bloodliners and Wolvren. When she isn't hunting down the denizens of the night, she's busy finding ways to build up her nest egg for the day of her retirement from Pantheon. But when her rampant greed carries her a little too far, she finds herself in a mess that wasn't entirely of her own making. And things only get worse when the one who recruited her, the Goddess Aphrodite, decides to use Nikola to draw an enemy of Pantheon's out of the darkness and into the light.

Reflections – III.

Wolvren are not Werewolves.

It is a common misconception, one perpetuated and propagated as a racial slur against the species by the Bloodliners, who themselves are not the Vampires of lore.

Thus, what are the Wolvren?

Not human. That is the short answer, and thus the question of where they come from is open for debate amongst Bloodliner and Wolvren anthropologists.

However, there are a handful of theories in circulation.

One speculates that Wolvren are all that remains of an ancient civilization that predates humankind. That would make them very, very old as it implies they have existed for more than fifty-five million years. Unfortunately, no evidence to support this theory has been uncovered, and not for lack of searching for it. As human scientists tackled the question of whether a technologically advanced species existed before humanity, so too Bloodliner and Wolvren researchers have piggy-backed on those endeavors to search for evidence that would scientifically explain their respective origins.

Another theory is that Wolvren evolved as a parallel species to humanity. They share all the obvious traits of being human without being human. They have X and Y chromosomes, though they possess 25 base pairs rather than 23. They are stronger, more disease resistant, yet develop and age much like humans do. Their blood is red, though their cells oxygenate better, making them superior athletes.

However, even if we subscribe to the notion that Wolvren evolved alongside humans, the question of how they remained undiscovered for tens of millennia is difficult to answer. In fact, the earliest recorded tales of Werewolves date back to the Greek myths. Then we have to consider the Nordic folklore, such as the Saga of the Volsungs in the 13th century, and the recorded killings of suspected werewolves in Europe during the 1400’s and 1500’s. These can be considered recent and isolated occurrences, hardly evidence that Wolvren – mistaken for Werewolves – have existed since time immemorial.

Two more possibilities abound.

One is that Wolvren did not evolve but were instead ‘created’ by an unknown power.

The other is that Wolvren are not of this Earth, in other words, they are extraterrestrials.

Both are considered contentious by Wolvren and Bloodliner anthropologists and geneticists who are quick to point out that Wolvren DNA possesses the 5 base nucleotides of all life on Earth.

However, are they possibilities that can be discounted?

As a final point, why do Bloodliners refer to Wolvren as Werewolves?

The reason is that some Wolvren possess the ability to reconfigure their appearance. In other words, they can transform, but it isn’t a Hollywood style human-to-wolf transformation, though it is surprisingly quick and involves a lengthening of their limbs, turning fingers into claws, and restructuring of their jaws, allowing them to open wider than humanly possible. Complemented by their golden irises and the growth of wolf-like ears, this gives those Wolvren a distinctly bestial appearance, yet quite different from the almost comical Wolfman portrayed by Lone Chaney Jr.

In fact, it makes them look rather…alien.

---

Every Vampire and Wolvren who has ever faced a Fury in battle – whether they be man, woman, or child – has died.
There is no running from them.
There is no bargaining with them.
And pleading on hands and knees will be in vain.
They are death incarnate with no natural predators.
Thus, it is true that only a Fury can a stop a Fury.
And the Lord help anyone who comes between them.

###

I’d been humiliated by a couple of homeless geezers.

Correction.

I’d humiliated myself before a couple of homeless geezers.

What had I expected would happen when facing them with knives in hand?

At sight of me would they turn tail and run away?

Well, one of them had, however that didn’t help my case.

The problem was that I lacked presence.

From appearance alone, no one would infer that I was a Lanfear – someone superior to the Aventis that were mass produced by Pantheon. Thus, how was anyone to know that I could wield my Diva, Anthea, like the finest scalpel the world has ever seen? With her in my control, I could cut down a dozen men so quickly they’d be dead before their blood landed on the floor.

Suffice to say that in certain circles, Anthea’s reputation preceded her, and she wasn’t known as Anthea of the Slaughter for no reason. But in the backstreets, underpasses, and dark, decrepit alleys of New Angeles, Nikola Sola Raynar was fresh meat because I looked like a girl who’d blown out her sixteen birthday candles not long ago.

In short, I was about as intimidating as a hamster.

Swallowing my battered pride, I tossed the folded-up sad excuse for a man at my feet into the plastic shack. Then I laid out the deceased individual into the middle of the narrow alleyway, and then waited for the Undertaker bot to arrive. It flew in a few minutes later, floating down between the surrounding buildings on geysers of hot air, plopping down on telescoping legs over the dead body resting on the wet permacrete. This was one was the older coffin-shaped model, and it soon lowered itself to collect the corpse, then rose on its metal legs. A minute after its arrival, the Undertaker lifted off, superheating the air in the alleyway to a near scalding temperature as it rose on its lifters.

I watched it ascend from the safety of a doorway while waiting for the chill in the air to return before stepping out into the open.

Alleys like these were dark during the day, and they were darker at night, but there was enough light from the city buildings for me to see my way. If not, all I had to do was slip on a pair of night-vision glasses to turn the night into day. However, since my intention of seeking out a secluded spot was to swap out with Anthea in the Cradle, I forewent the glasses.

I gave the plastic, ramshackle shack a quick look.

The old man I’d thrown in there was out cold.

As for where I was standing, it was far enough away from the street to hide me from passersby.

In other words, this place would have to do.

Stifling a sigh, I summoned the Cradle.

The air in front of me wavered like the surface of disturbed water as the large device hiding in Pocket Space started to emerge out of its fold in space-time.

I couldn't say that it didn’t scare me a little when thinking how easily the Cradle could manipulate the fabric of reality.

Pantheon’s technology wasn’t just advanced.

It was godly.

Time and again, I wondered why those self-proclaimed gods and goddesses weren’t ruling the world. Then again, they were already pulling a great many of its strings.

Slender, metallic tentacles reached out from the within the rippling air and grabbed onto me, lifting me off my feet, before carrying me into the space-time pocket. With my eyes squeezed shut, I endured the usual discomfort of immense pressure that built up to painful levels as I was pulled through the threshold into the folded region where the Cradle was ensconced. Once through, the pain of being crushed was replaced by an icy cold that thankfully lasted only a heartbeat before I was safely tucked inside the large device.

What does a Cradle look like?

Picture a giant sarcophagus fit for an Egyptian pharaoh, not made of stone but from hyper-alloys that could withstand a nuclear explosion…or so I’d been told.

I had seen Anthea’s Cradle when I was first chosen to be a Lanfear, as opposed to a lesser Aventis, and it was indeed shaped like an Egyptian sarcophagus, one that would have made the Ramesses pharaohs drool green with envy.

Standing upright, it was over 5 meters tall, a couple of meters wide, and just as deep. Its elaborately decorated and burnished exterior was a mixture of gold and gun-metal grey that gave it an ostentatious, militaristic appearance that was quite fitting since Anthea was a weapon made by Pantheon’s so-called gods. As for Anthea herself, I could best describe her as a tall, slender, and very pretty brunette girl in her late teens that just happened to be one of the most dangerous entities on the planet. As soon as I was secure inside the Cradle, the device linked my awareness – my consciousness and will – to that dangerous existence. In essence, my ego passed into her, and at that moment I ceased to be Nikola Sola Raynar and became the Diva, Anthea.

The Cradle ejected Anthea’s Anima crystal out of Pocket Space and into the alleyway. Before the fist-sized, emerald jewel could land on the ground, a black cloud of dark matter burst out of it, nearly instantly shaping and hardening into Anthea’s body. By the time her feet touched down on the alleyway, she was fully formed. Even so, her crystal was tossed out so quickly, that she barely had time to land in a crouch.

Standing up, I looked down at her body – now my body – and quickly checked her over.

Anthea did not emerge out of the Anima crystal buck naked.

On the contrary, she was fully clothed.

Like her body, Anthea’s outfit was constructed out of dark matter. At least, that’s how I referred to it since I didn't know what else to call it, let alone what she was actually made of. But leaving that aside, her attire could be summarized as skintight and black, with dull silver boots, a dark purple ladies short coat that looked more like a dress – what with its navel revealing split down the middle – and a golden, fantail breastplate that extended from her neck to cover her chest. As for her arms, they were sheathed in purple-black gloves that ran from her fingertips and up to her shoulders but left them bare.

I had to admit that I approved of her appearance.

Anthea was a beauty, with long, flowing, dark brown hair, a heart shaped face, and mesmerizing green eyes, and while her garb was a touch masculine, it didn’t hide her femininity.

With my Ego now inside her, I felt as though I’d literally jumped out of Nikola’s skin and into my Diva’s.

I stood taller which was only natural since Nikola was a mere 5 foot 3, while Anthea stood 5 foot 11, though two of those inches came courtesy of her high heeled boots. I also felt considerably lighter, a product of Anthea being several times stronger than Nikola who was herself significantly stronger than the average Joe in the prime of his youth. And not only was she strong, but my Diva was also quick on her feet, though not fast enough to outrun a cheetah across open ground. Instead, she had a preternatural sense of balance, and was familiar with an ensemble of parkour techniques that came easily to her, but not so easily to me.

I looked skyward.

The walls of the megascrapers formed a canyon that loomed over the alleyway. The higher I looked, the more the buildings faded in the rain, eventually disappearing into the dark storm clouds

Storms in the city were a bitch to deal with.

Running across a skyline buried in a storm was like running through thick, black fog. Even with Anthea’s preternatural eyesight, I would have a hard time seeing where I was going. And then there was all the water making the roofs and ledges slippery. Anthea was agile on her feet, but even she had trouble when wet weather blanketed the city.

However, when the going gets tough, the tough get going…or so goes the song.

That’s something I learnt from Zenovia.

I was about to start making my way up the narrow manmade canyon when I sensed something from inside the Cradle. Rather, what I heard was a distinct, familiar melody playing from within the confines of the device.

Even though my consciousness was now in control of Anthea, we shared a bond through the Anima crystals in her body and mine.

That was how I could hear my phone was receiving a call.

What I didn’t know was how the phone was still part of the cellular network while inside the Cradle’s Pocket Space. It was a question that I’d asked various people, including my Handler, but the only explanation I got from them was that it was Pantheon magic. Granted, Pantheon’s tech was godly so why bother asking for an explanation that I wouldn’t understand, and yet it wasn’t answer that satisfied me because in part my curiosity stemmed from my fears regarding how advanced some aspects Pantheon’s technology was.

Half turning, I held out my hand – now Anthea’s hand – and waited for the Cradle to deliver the phone to me. A slim, dull grey metal tentacle emerged from a pool of distorted air and placed it on my waiting palm, then swiftly disappeared from view. A split second later, the region of rippling, wavering air vanished, and the alleyway was back to normal.

While that was happening, I answered the incoming call without looking at the caller ID.

I already knew it was my Handler by the melody I’d assigned to his number.

“Yes, Master. How can I serve you?”

There was pause before I heard a man’s voice ask, “What happened this time?”

“Answering a question with a question is rude.”

“What happened?”

I snorted softly. “Nothing I want to talk about.”

“Did you start something you couldn’t finish?”

I felt a growl well up in my throat. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Do you think I have the time for that?”

“Then you know me so well we should date.”

“Dating a Diva is not my cup of tea.”

“Of course, not. You like them petite like Nikki.”

“Need I remind you that Pantheon has rules regarding romantic liaisons between its employees?”

I sighed heavily while shaking my head. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk. Orders just came down from on high the mountain top.”

“What an archaic way of putting it.”

“Should I mention they were delivered on the wings of a dove?”

I felt a chill crawl down my spine. “Those birds give me creeps….”

“It keeps communications off the grid.”

That much was true. Orders delivered by Pantheon’s messenger doves were difficult to intercept. After all, they were nearly impossible to tell apart from the real thing. You’d have to shoot all of them down, and that was strictly against Federal preservation laws.

And Pantheon didn’t just use doves.

Pigeons, rats, dogs, cats – you name it.

It was enough to have me check the lifeforce of every member of the animal kingdom I crossed paths with, picking out Pantheon’s creations from Mother Nature’s by the light of their auras.

To put the unsettling chill behind me, I decided to push the conversation along. “So what are my orders from above?”

“We’ll discuss them in person.”

I frowned. “What?”

“Where are you now?”

“Why are you asking when you can track me by my phone?”

There was a lengthy pause before he asked, “District 11, Block 6?”

I growled at him. “Seriously? You have to ask?”

“Since you’ve swapped into Anthea you can make it over in no time.”

Anger sparked aflame inside me. “Are you shitting me? You want me to run over—”

“It’s raining. I’m not going out there to meet you in person.”

“What? Are you afraid of melting in the rain like the Wicked Witch of the East?”

“West. Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Just tell me my orders,” I complained.

“Not over the phone.”

Was he worried about someone listening in?

The phone I was using was a commercial model upgraded by Pantheon so it should be secure, but the network it used wasn’t. There were backdoors and openings left behind by the provider to allow for the authorities to eavesdrop on communications. And despite appearances, even alleyways like these had eyes and ears. When I thought about it in that context, I realized I should have been more careful when choosing a spot to bring Anthea out of her Cradle.

Again, I felt like a careless fool, and it wasn’t an easy feeling to swallow down.

It was bitter. It was foul. It was downright unpleasant, and I ended up ducking my head a little in humiliation.

“Fine. Tell me where to meet you….” That earned me a lengthy silence that I eventually grew tired of. “Well?”

“It sounds like you have something you want to tell me.”

I wrinkled my nose while picturing his face in my mind.

That bastard really knows me well.

He’d figured out I was embarrassed by something.

I doubted he’d drop the matter, so the question was whether I should come clean or not.

After a moment’s thought, I choice to avoid dealing with it for now.

“Just tell me where to go,” I more-or-less repeated.

“The Tower.”

That was his way of telling me to meet him at his apartment located within Century Tower.

“Fine. I’ll be there in 30 to 40 minutes.”

“Just hop on a maglev. It’ll be quicker.”

“No, I need the exercise.”

Hardly the truth, but what the heck.

“Very well. Let me know when you arrive at the Tower.”

A simulated click told me he’d ended the call.

Lowering my phone away from my ear, I tapped its screen, ending the call on my side.

After a while, I looked up at the walls of the megascrapers surrounding me, then peered up at the dark, clouded heavens.

“Hop on a maglev?”

Yes, I could do that.

I could have Anthea jump onto the roof of a speeding maglev.

Riding the train that way, I’d shave a few minutes off my travel time.

“Or I could race the maglev….”

Truthfully, I hadn’t done that in a while either.

Handing Nikola’s phone back to the Cradle for safekeeping, I gave the buildings another thoughtful look.

“Ah…what the Hell.”

With a deep breath, I made my choice.

“Anthea, let’s go for a run….”