Skulduggery Pleasant - The Fanclub Unites

// vii

DuskEmbers59

Dexter Vex holstered both handguns high on his hips with a barely audible click, his cobalt hued shirt concealing the weapons and ammunition belt encircling his waist, laden with magazines. Two 40. calibre Smith and Wesson pistols. As a good friend had once told him, when Smith and Wesson talk, people listen. Dexter smiled.

Surrounding him stood the entirety of the 'retrieval team', as China Sorrows had designated them, all recently briefed on the current situation, and in preparation for the private interdimensional mission. They had each been elected for their competence in battle, hand-picked by Skulduggery Pleasant. Some of the best. However, Dexter could not prevent the frown that surfaced on his brow whenever he contemplated China's motives. To foremost target the minor threat, Serpine, seemed a considerable risk on her behalf; if Darquesse caught wind of the existing God-killer weapon, she could launch an attack before they made a move. Either way, he told himself, war is dangerous game, and like any, it is never without sacrifice...

Beside him, Donegan Bane chose a narrow, black pistol from the selection on the table before him, stowing it away into his interior jacket pocket, and turned his solemn gaze on his partner, Gracious O'Callahan, who adjusted his graphic t-shirt over the firearm strapped to his own hip. He grinned manically - and contagiously - at Bane, undoubtedly anticipating the shunt to an utterly new dimension. For Dexter, it was a surreal and exciting prospect, but the mission itself felt too similar to one of his 'suicide' operations, back in the days of the Great War. His jaw clenched at the bitterly raw memory of Erskine Ravel, but he daren't recall such distracting recollections prior to a mission.

Metres away from the group, Skulduggery, who was orchestrating the mission quite significantly, conferred seriously with the dimensional shunter, a slight, tidily dressed man by the name of Creyfon Signate, apparently unnerved yet fascinated by the talking skeleton in sharp attire. The detective seemed not to notice, or care.

Kallista Pendragon, a young but skilful elemental sorcerer, was the final member of the team, clad in a night-black armoured jacket, identical to those donned by the rest of the group, and equipped with a sleek revolver and sheathed dagger. Dexter raised his brows when she selected two additional firearms, deftly hiding them in the darkness of her jacket. Almost imperceptibly, she shot him a wicked grin, acid-green eyes twinkling, and he returned a faint smile. They had exchanged only few words, but the Irish mage exuded a confidence not unlike his own.

Skulduggery Pleasant cleared his throat abruptly, and each member, including Dexter, turned to face him. Alike to the rest, his slender frame reflected in the glass of the countless mirrors within the Room of Prisms, the elongated images moving in synchrony. The Grand Mage had reserved this space specifically for the confidential mission, but China was absent from her throne-like structure by the far end.

"Now, if everyone is armed and ready," announced Skulduggery lightly, "let's link up."

Dexter zipped his jacket shut, and as he joined hands with Donegan and Kallista in a line, he couldn't help the tingle of wariness at Skulduggery's composure; in both realities, Nefarian Serpine had mercilessly slaughtered both he and his family, and although Skulduggery had long ago quenched his fiery thirst for revenge, wielding the fabled Sceptre, Dexter wondered, briefly, whether that everlasting rage lived on, a storm beneath the calm surface. For the sake of the team, he hoped not.

The shunt initiated, and the world surrounding him, the only universe he had ever known, flickered blindingly, then darkly, and disappeared, instantly replaced by a new one. Dexter blinked at the scenery before him, disorientated. Just as a pedestrian shrieked and leapt away.

Dexter cursed as he darted backwards with the team, retreating from the crowded public centre of town. His hand was involuntarily resting on a Smith and Wesson pistol, poised to fire if necessary. Skulduggery plucked a cloaking sphere from his inky jacket pocket, the seams invisible against the smooth enhanced material, muttering, "I wasn't sure whether it would malfunction during the shunt."

He twisted the hemispheres in opposite directions, and brown-clothed mortals gaped as the strangers apparently vanished into thin air as suddenly as they'd arrived. Donegan, Gracious, Kallista and Dexter drew closer to Skulduggery and an astonished Signate as the bubble retracted slightly to envelope them more approximately. They hurried across an uneven cobbled street, slick from recent rain, weaving through the sparse stream of townspeople, who looked as bleak as the faded grey sky above.

"This is amazing," Kallista whispered to no one in particular, wide eyes scanning the alien setting.

They slipped inconspicuously into a dank, deserted alleyway on their right before the skeleton detective spoke again.

"This is the rendezvous," he stated firmly to Creyfon Signate, then glanced around the group for confirmation. "We meet here in ten hours, provided the team does not separate." The shunter nodded briskly, a distracted expression across his face, before he closed his eyes. He flickered from and to existence, then vanished, air surging to occupy the vacant space. Dexter had seen a lot in his 400 years, but this sight was more than mildly disconcerting. He shook his head.

"Now I've seen it all," he grunted.

"Not until you see Mevolent's collection, I'm afraid," Skulduggery replied, grim humour lacing his voice. "Speaking of which. Shall we continue?"

💀💀💀

"I'm a rational man. But haven't you heard? I'm also insane. It gives me a unique perspective on things."
- Derek Landy; db