LIGHTNOVELONLINE Part 2 - Twilight Angel
The crisp, oxygen-rich air rushed against Norman’s face and filled his lungs. His footfalls were silent as the dead of night as he stole across the rooftops, running, vaulting, climbing, rolling. The grace of a predator was upon him. He glanced at the drone as it whirred at his side.
“I know what you’re probably thinking: ‘Is it smart to keep parkouring around after throwing hands with that lovely little slug beast?” Norman whispered. “Don’t you have to watch your stamina? The rooftops are safer ... except when they're not. I can’t go home the way I came ‘cause chances are something’s out there, expecting me to do just that. So, I change things up a bit. This roundabout route ain’t great, but it’s usually not too bad so long as I move quickly. The problem is, in theory, parkour makes noise and takes a lot of energy. Normally, going bump in the night attracts the actual things that go bump in the night. Who knew? The sad truth in this city is that sometimes, you gotta run for your life, but what if you could stomp around as much as you want without making a sound, while pampering your poor, overworked trotters with a taste of Heaven?"
A tricky path lay ahead. Flat stretches of floor became a rarity. His feet never missed it. Every step was a new ledge, railing, pipe, roof vent duck or otherwise. Navigating it all without a second thought, he scarcely slowed. His OoTube chat was blowing up:
__CHAT:
DRAY_KART_82: wait, are his feet even touching the ground?
PARKOUR-PARKER: this is pro stuff
BAJANETTE11: nah he flyin
ARN74: fake
I’M-JUST-’IM: no one can move like that.
"I mean, if you're gonna run for your life, why not treat your feet to some software that's actually soft?” Norman pitched.
“'Sneakers' are for prey. 'Prowlers' are for predators! It's a dirty little secret that commercial products aren't generally built to last, 'cause who's gonna buy more when you're set for life? Not these babies.
You'll grow old and die with them (unlessyoudon't)! After painfully testing several prototypes by sprinting on the mucus of a giant slug, it's safe to say the traction is as aight as it gets!"
__CHAT:
JARON-DA-MON: tmi
I’M-JUST-'IM: we did not need to know that.
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: Do you put all the prowlers you make through that test, or just the ones you wear?
WONNA_ONE23: Lemmy asking de important questions.
Motion blurs muddled his visor's camera footage. The world was whirling. However, the drone camera caught what the visor couldn't. He'd broken into a combo of somersaults, rolls, aerial spirals, and other exotic tricks that spun his body 360°. Every maneuver maximised efficiency in some way or another.
__CHAT:
HARD-BACK-M8N: how he get dat do?
SMOL_STUPSE: Showoff.
BREK_NEK_DEED: is this the power of traction?
LIKKLE-BOY: SO COOL!!
WONNA_ONE23: gimme dem prowlers!
His voice reflected the effort, but it was disproportionately low. “When you’re firing on all cylinders, one slip can end your adventures. As you can see, so long as you have a stable surface, prowlers do not slip.”
__CHAT:
THOMAS_SANT0S: fake
JARON-DA-MON: someone's jelly
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: This is sorta normal for some of us.
Norman sized up a large gap between the buildings. He accelerated and launched himself across it. His fingers latched onto the next rooftop and he fluidly hoisted himself atop it, finally taking a moment to look back.
__CHAT:
!NQU!SIT_R: what did I just witness??
PARKOUR-PARKER: spidermon origin story
PATR1OT_BOT: More like Captain Murica lite.
RAIDER-COMMANDER: Wanna join my group? I'm something of a Night Seizer myself.
BREK_NEK_DEED: Was that a world record?
MATHLET3: gotta be at least 13 metres
"More like 13.86 metres, to be precise" Norman replied before resuming his run. "Maybe it's time I address one cool thing about The Night Shift. Normally, traceurs will only parkour at full tilt for about fifteen seconds. If you can make thirty to forty seconds, you're a legend but here? We've got nothing but stamina.
Those of you outside the city might be a little confused, but the air is different in the 'quarantine dome', as they put it. I don't know if it's the nyctals themselves or what, but something's created a hyperbaric atmosphere. That means boat loads of oxygen. Breathe this long enough and your health and stamina jump off the chart. It's actually hard to get tired in here. It’s not just physical health. My mind feels wide and open, like all my life someone's been standing on a hose in my head and they've finally stepped off so the thoughts can flow free. Engineering headaches just started making sense. Under normal conditions, mastering any field requires dedicated chunks of your life, but you can’t be an Olympic level sprinter, long jumper and gymnast all at once. You have to choose, but what if you could do it all? In this atmosphere, you can. When those cross-disciplinary abilities combine, you get something greater than the sum of its parts. It looks like a superpower, but it’s not. In fiction, it's referred to as the ‘peak human condition’. Of course, here, it’s no longer fiction."
__CHAT:
LIKKLE-BOY: I WANNA GO THERE!!!
BREK_NEK_DEED: ME 2!!
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: No you don't. Sit down.
JARON-DA-MON: bro's out there living his best life
I’M-JUST-’IM: it's like a Crying Light sequel
"If any of you are looking for hyper-competent hires in remote work, the people of this city are practically a goldmine.
Feel free to reach out, but don't try to take advantage of our situation, 'cause with our brainpower we'll see it coming from a mile off. Not to mention we're kind of pugnacious due to the constant threat of life or death ... I'm rambling. Anyway, being a peak human isn’t a good excuse to go around trying to bare-knuckle a nyctal. If you wanna fight monsters, you'll need sum heap gud gear."
He tapped his visor, before demonstrating its features through the screen shared camera feed as he addressed them.
"I call it 'nightsight'. Unlike traditional night vision goggles, these provide near-true colour rendering of nocturnal environments.
All you need is star light for some decent visibility. You can switch to infrared, ultraviolet, gamma radiation, and more. Why? In this crazy city, it's better safe than sorry. You can even combine settings. My favourite? Mixing infrared and visible light: anything with a heat signature stands out, but you can still sort of see the world as it's supposed to look. Then there're the augmented reality features so I can see the chat or anything else I so choose while I'm doing my thing."
__CHAT:
ARN74: so you put the golden apple vision out of business. i don't buy it.
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: Then you're a square. I want one.
LIKKLE-BOY: it got games, doh?
BAJANETTE11: why haven't we made this in the outside world??
RAIDER-COMMANDER: 'Cause it's over-engineering. Packing that much into one device is hard for ye mortals.
ARN74: could be a fake
DRAY_KART_82: he literally just proved it smh
CARL_EMERALD: Contact me if you survive. I want those on my shelves.
"There's also a telescopic zoom ..." Norman added, scanning his surroundings until with the feature until he caught sight of a massive, twitching cocoon hanging from the side of a building, its spotted markings pulsing dim light. "Ooh! That's the cocoon of a twilight angel! It's derivative of a Pseudosphinx tetrio moth with phenotypical traits of a firefly ... I think ... this one looks unusual. They have a love-hate relationship with light. Unlike most nyctals, they're fine with a little brightness and they use bioluminescence to ward off others. They're also among the precious few nyctals that won't try to bite off your face the moment they see you! They'll just destroy your garden, but otherwise they're pretty ... friendly ..."
A wiggling form with writhing antennae and squirming legs emerged from the far edge of the cocoon’s rooftop.
__CHAT:
STAR-SQUEAM: WHAT IS THAT!?!
PARKOUR-PARKER: thousand legger THOUSAND LEGGER
BAJANETTE11: SANTAPEEEED!!
PATR1OT_BOT: new phobia unlocked
STAR-SQUEAM: (Sick and throwing up emoji)
JARON-DA-MON: wait THAT WAS IT'S TAIL!?
BAJANETTE11: DADDY LONG LEGS WITH SANTAPEED TAIL!
SMOL_STUPSE: ‘Daddy long legger’?
BAJANETTE11: which end has the head???
STAR-SQUEAM:: BOTH ENDS HAVE A HEAD!
NQU!SIT_R: stop the planet. I wanna get off.
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: I hate this city.
I’M-JUST-'IM: ROFL!!!
The freshly dubbed ‘daddy long legger’ scuttled towards the twilight angel. The angel within it tore a peephole through the cocoon. Norman doubted it was a coincidence. Perhaps it sensed the danger and accelerated its hatching process. The giant moth’s neotenic, compound eyes peeked through the gap. Rigid as they were, those eyes seemed to widen as it caught sight of the daddy long legger approaching. Its struggles to break free grew frantic, lest its birthing place become its tomb. The long legger casually reached towards it.
__CHAT:
BAJANETTE11: SAVE DE BABY!
Norman made his decision. He beamed his flashlight at the daddy long legger’s spider end. It collapsed and spasmed, but the centipede tail rose up and flailed. Mandibles clacked blindly, seeking out whatever it’s aggressor may be.
That moment of distraction changed everything.
A mantis-like appendage tore free of the cocoon with an eerie shaft of light. It skewered the spider end. The centipede tail lashed at it, only to impale itself against the now-lifted appendage.
The daddy long legger stilled.
__CHAT:
INQU!SIT_R: ?!?!
RAIDER-COMMANDER: … Okay … that’s new.
INQU!SIT_R: mantis arm?
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: Predator. You saved a predator. I blame you for its existence.
Having rent the cocoon apart, the twilight angel flopped onto the rooftop, gingerly cleaning its large, compound eyes as its feathery antennae drooped in exhaustion. It poked at the daddy long legger, which did not stir. Upon confirming that its enemy was super dead, it turned its attention upon Norman and tilted its head.
__CHAT:
ARN74: awwww
BAJANETTE11: ITS SO FUFFY!
LIKKLE-BOY: I wanna touch it!
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: Famous last words.
HARD-BACK-M8N: if not fren why fren shaped?
MUNSTER-VERSER: Baby Mothara.
BAJANETTE11: adopt her! she could be the night seizer mascot!
"Mascot? Cool idea, but I don’t wanna die, so maybe no. Second, 'she's' a guy," Norman whispered, watching its abdomen.
__CHAT:
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: You don't seem to need any help in the dying department.
MATHLET3: lenny, what is wrong with you?
THOMAS_SANT0S: why wonna tink she a boy?
ENTO_MOLLY: Look at its tail.
INQU!SIT_R: wait ... ARE THOSE TENTACLES COMING OUT OF ITS TAIL??
MUNSTER-VERSER: Oh, they're feathery tentacles. That's ... that's better. It looks like a peacock or a lyrebird.
LEMMY_OUTA_HERE: With moist, squirming tailfeathers.
INQU!SIT_R: what’s it …? Oh no …
STAR-SQUEAM: ITS STANDING UP ON ITS TENTACLES!
MUNSTER-VERSER: Biblically accurate angel.
STAR-SQUEAM: nope nope nope
LAFF_IT_ON: loooooooooool run
SMOL_STUPSE: it's like an eldritch stilt walker!
THOMAS_SANT0S: yer ded
Towering two storeys tall on graceful tendrils like fibre optic feathers, the twilight angel spread its iridescent wings as soft, luminous colours rippled across them. It rubbed its mantid forelimbs together like a musician tenderly caressing his violin. This action elicited a clarion tune like the call of a cricket or a songbird. Norman had to admit that there truly was an angelic beauty to this menacing entity. It seemed to stare at him now, as much as any creature with compound eyes can be discerned to stare. He knew it was just primal instincts, but the spots on its wings, over one metre in diameter, registered in his mind as eyes more than the angel’s actual eyes. That was by design: a form of mimicry, like the false eyes some ordinary moths used to deter predators. However, there was … a quality within them, a life that resonated with the rings rippling in on them from the edges of its wings. Something … didn’t feel right. Better safe than sorry. He decided to move on.
His legs didn’t respond.
He tried to lift his flashlight. His arm only twitched. Norman’s heart raced, but there he stood as a living, breathing statue, his eyes transfixed on those wings.
Slowly, methodically, the angel’s tail tentacles walked it towards him.
It had time. He did not.
Forelimbs clasped as if in prayer, the angel rubbed them together, susurrating its haunting song.
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… What?
His vision blurred. When it cleared, the twilight angel was several feet closer. Its leisurely pace had not changed, as far as he could tell. The problem was his own. Had he blacked out for a moment? The phenomenon of missing time came to mind.
The chat’s stream of comments had tricked to a stop. Surely, they’d at least say something, if they could. Maybe they couldn’t. It was an outrageous theory, bolstered by the discovery that he couldn’t shout. He was trying.
This would not do.
Norman channeled every ounce of his willpower. His arm quavered. Muscles rebelled. The flashlight felt as though it weighed a ton. He didn’t care. I would move, because he wanted it to, and move it did. Slowly but surely, it lined up the shot. The approaching monster was still several metres away.
Another blackout.
The angel overshadowed him, mantid blades close enough to touch as it arched above to gaze down upon him. Its wings were his sky, his world. Absorbed by their mesmerising rings, he almost lost his capacity to think. He had to do … something … something important … what was it?
Oh, right.
With one last ounce of willpower, he flipped the switch. The beam hit it point blank.
*KRACK!*
A sharp impact racked his wrist. The flashlight went flying. No sooner had he fired off the beam than the angel smacked away his flashlight with a swipe of its hooked tibia.
The its wings stopped pulsing.
Norman stumbled back with a gasp, suddenly able to move and breathe freely.
__CHAT:
INQU!SIT_R: I zoned out. wah happen?
SMOL_STUPSE: IT’S RIGHT ON TOP OF HIM!
DRAY_KART_82: felt like sleep paralysis. I frighten
DARCIE222: unsubscribe. i can't take this.
STAR-SQUEAM: (Has left the chat)
RAIDER-COMMANDER: I’ll expose myself to this until I’m immune. Also, don’t die, please.
Norman glanced at the flashlight. It had landed on the rooftop. That was nice, but it might as well be a million miles away.
The twilight angel’s feathery tendrils had cupped him in a squirming cage. He was tempted to make a break for it and see if it was possible to shove through them. However, he wasn’t eager to find out if he was fast enough to dodge those mantid reaper blades.
Norman glared up at the angel: a small act of defiance. The false eyes on its wings shrank as though narrowing. He raised an eyebrow. One false eye grew wider, shrinking back to normal when he returned his eyebrow to its proper symmetry. Could it be …? He barely raised his hand as he chanced a tentative wave. It twitched a tibia up and down, then slowly, gingerly, rubbed its mantid limbs together, repeating its tune.
S̸̴̵̶̶͓̝͔̙̙̓͒͋̍̆A̵̶̷̵̸̶̶̶̡̭̦͉̯͖̤̥̲͆͛̒̐͑͊́̇͌͝F̸̷̴̵̸̶̷̸̗̦͓̺͚͙̺̪̘̈́̎̽̓̅͑́̚̕ͅḚ̷̶̸̸̵̶̷̸̢̧̛͇̖͓͚͚̄̎̂̔̑̾̑̐͘̚T̶̸̵̸̵̶̺͍̳̺͓̱̆̓̅̓́̅̏Y̵̴̴̶̵̶̵̴͕͈̤̟̜̦̼̤̌̌̓̋͗͐͑́̅̑͠
That … almost made sense in his head. The tune hadn’t changed, but somehow it brought a word to the tip of Norman’s mind.
He puckered his lips and whistled an approximation of the tune.
At first, the angel didn’t react. Finally, it removed the cage of tendrils. Was he free? Oh, not quite. He didn’t dare move yet as it moved the blunt end of its hooked tibia even nearer to his head. The two-clawed tarsus at the tip began to fiddle with his hair. Eying it warily, he leant away from the claws just a smidgeon.
The tarsus didn’t follow him. It stopped flexing. The angel withdrew it, slowly backing away. It fidgeted, rubbed at its antennae, then twitched its tibia up and down the way it had when he waved.
Norman felt the shadow of a grin begin to form on his face. “Well, how ‘bout that?”
Still, assuming he understood the intentions of such an alien mind was presumptuous at best. He inched towards his flashlight.
The twilight angel’s antennae twitched. It raised its head to the sky. Norman knit his brow and followed its gaze.
He heard the beat of wings that whistled.