Is a "sword" a euphuism? (BL)

The entrance to the alternate Hawkins National Laboratory was a grotesque tableau. Trees, whittled down, served as grim stakes, each impaling a native of this realm. The victims were a diverse lot—humanoid figures with faces resembling intricate floral patterns, canine entities that defied familiar zoological classifications, and winged creatures reminiscent of bats, suggesting a uniquely adapted fauna within this adjunct world.

 I wrinkled my nose, the scent hitting me before the sight. "How disgusting," I muttered.

 Archer, standing beside me, snorted. "Huh, I thought you had a taste for this kind of decor."

 I shook my head, pointing at the skewered creatures. "It's not the Vlad the Impaler style welcome mat that's bothering me. Can't you smell it? The sickly-sweet scent of an infected wound in time? Whatever Two is trying to do is deeply wrong."

 Archer inhaled deeply, his brow furrowing. "No, what I smell is a revolting odour—like stale hairspray mixed with the disturbing hint of a recent tanning session. And something else... something more abstract. It's akin to a male butterfly in mating season, tainted by nostalgia about a past that did not happen."

"Butterfly?" The word caught my attention. Was it the tracking daemon I had created? Its prohibition was against taking a living host and leaving the Upside-Down, yet its scent lingered here.

Archer turned to me, his eyes sharp. "Do you suspect you failed to dissolve that daemon?"

 I met his gaze, unflinching. "No. I never attempted to," I admitted, my voice holding an edge of defiance. "I needed a way back to Aperture. I couldn't spare the energy to deal with it." I left unsaid the words about my temper and my lack of control.

Archer studied me for a moment, his silence heavy with unspoken words. "You were furious. We've been together for more than a decade. I know you. You wouldn't act so carelessly otherwise."

 I tried to justify my actions and my lack thereof. "True, it was just a small tracker daemon. Not very powerful on its own. Besides, there could be other explanations. There are several supernatural predators associated with butterflies, including at least one species of vampires."

 "But it carries your underlying scent," Archer stated flatly.

 I had nothing to say to that. The look he gave me carried a silent weight of disappointment—a quiet testament to his belief in my potential and an acknowledgement of the times I succumbed to baser instincts. That was the trouble with vengeance. It tended to splash.

However, I wasn't steeped in the guilt one might expect. What happened to Will was unfortunate, but if Two ended up in this place, whether by accident or design, then my little daemon helped him survive. Because what I remembered from the show had no mention of him. The easiest conclusion was that he perished. Likely here, in this dark reflection.

Reversing possession was simpler than reversing death. I hadn't yet unlocked the secrets of true resurrection. At best, I could manage a reanimation. The True Magic I had acquired held that potential, but mastery eluded me.

Exorcism, however, was within my grasp. But as the victim's sanity waned, the power waxed, until all humanity was drained, and we were left facing something unspeakable. Something akin to the Three Worse Girls Since Eve.

We had managed to save them, but it required both True Magic and a divine miracle. And a very specific set of circumstances. I could only hope that Two hadn't advanced to that level.

But how had he fallen under possession? Could there have been a flaw in my binding spell for the daemon? It had been a while since I last crafted such a being, and this one had proven more formidable than I had initially predicted.

The doors to the building were busted open, with vines creeping inside just as they did everywhere else in this place. But these vines were withered.

"Od drain," I commented, examining one. "More forceful than what happened to Will."

Archer sniffed the air, his face scrunching in distaste. "Similar scent, but mixed with blood and rot." He frowned. "If this was a Dead Apostle, I'd assume it was the Dead."

"Perhaps something similar? The moon folk aren't the only ones who use corpses as familiars."

A child's giggle echoed through the desolate hallways. We turned towards the sound in unison.

"We gots new visitors, Sixteen," a young child in a ragged hospital gown piped up.

"They looks nicer'n the usual ones, Seventeen," the other, identically dressed, chimed in. Their age made determining their gender difficult. "Ya think they taste better?"

"Let's see!" the first child exclaimed, and they both raised their right hands, aiming at us.

With my right hand, I conjured a mirror-like shield of mercury. Simultaneously, with my left, I touched the wall, causing the Five Colored Slime to emerge from under my sleeve and scale the surface.

The quicksilver shield vibrated under the impact of the telekinetic strikes.

"Aren't you brats too old to put everything you see into your mouth?" Archer derided, skillfully dodging the invisible assaults.

"Must you?" I chided, before launching a few mercury bullets at the pair. The eerie children tried to deflect them towards Archer, but the nimble elf evaded them with ease. With each glimmering projectile, he advanced towards the ragged children in a series of astonishing acrobatic feats.

Meanwhile, the Five Colored Slime continued its unnoticed journey along the ceiling.

"You simply lack an appreciation for battle banter," Archer retorted, springing upwards as the ground where he'd previously stood gave way to a telekinetic strike.

"Frankly, I find it ridiculous," I shot back. Why partake in pointless chatter during a fight? Being in combat signified the end of diplomacy. Finally, the Five Colored Slime reached its destination above the twins. "But I can concede it serves as an effective diversion."

The slime descended, covering the children until only their heads were visible. It then hardened, ensnaring them.

However, the slime wasn't merely a tool for combat. It also served as an excellent diagnostic instrument.

Those two felt like human boys, somewhere at the beginning of puberty. The numbers were tattooed on each of their wrists. Sixteen and Seventeen.

Obviously more of Brenner's psychic children. It was his lab that we invaded or rather a reflection of it.

I probed further.

They were actually brothers. I could confirm that now. Their history began in the same womb.

But something strange. Something reminiscent of Will while that dream tried to render him long dead. A peculiar balance of Is and Is Not. A singular moment where they died and did not.

There was something strangely unbalanced among the boys' elemental compensation. Humans did not naturally contain the Sixth Imaginary Element. Unless they were possessed. But it was only a trace. Aftermath? But then it should be dissipating then. This seemed more like holding them together.

It was a puzzle.

And there was a boy's lack of fear. Not only in their faces, but also in their vital signs. Unless they were very different from human standards, or masters of biofeedback, they were actually quite calm.

"You have caught us? Now, what?" the first twin asked.

"Are you going to eat us?" the second twin asked, sounding like he was asking about the weather.

"Are you not afraid? I asked them. I knew that they were not, but I wanted to know why.

They were trapped, helpless. They should have been afraid.

"We have been eaten before. It was scary the first few times. But we have gotten used to it."

"Eat and be eaten."

"Two is trying to save us."

"He is just not very good at it."

"But he tries."

"Again and again."

And the Sixth Imaginary Element in their bodies vanished. It was too sudden. It should be more gradual, like ice melting, not like a taut rope snapping.

The effects of that were dramatic.

Suddenly some unseen force killed them both in an instant. Their bones were shattered. And yet it did not come outside. The slime that surrounded them was untouched. There was a whiff of Time in the attack. The echo of certainly. The wave function collapsing.

The box was open, but the cat had died a long time ago.

The corpses visibly rotted, the years of decay in seconds, and then disappeared as if they never were here.

"That was disturbing," Archer said, frowning.

He never liked watching children die. And the Aperture history was not helping.

I knew the names of every person that died in Aperture. I needed that to properly bind their remaining thoughts to the new security system. There were children among them.

Probably more than Brenner ever gathered. After all, he collected rare specimens, while Aperture went for quantity over quality. Those would not be missed. Orphans.

And some of them had died from tests Dwight designed.

"This is the same as what happened to Will," I commented, placing my hand on the slime. It obediently crawled back under my clothes, disappearing from sight. A small tendril emerged from under my collar, quickly wiping away the blood that had leaked from my nose.

"Are you suggesting that these boys were killed by that twisted boy whose shadow we encountered?" Archer asked from behind me, "Two?"

"No," I said, turning to face him. "He wasn't killing those boys. He was raising them from the dead."

"He tries to kill one boy and resurrect two others?" Archer paced. "How does that make sense?"

"It's a matter of energy cost. No matter the method, resurrection is expensive. Death is not so easily denied." I assumed what Archer called Rin's trademarked lecture pose two. "For a former human, humans are the most compatible energy source. If he managed to resurrect those boys several times, even if the results were temporary, we are going to find more victims. I just hope they aren't more children."

"If Two is killing people, then we should stop him," Archer said determinedly. "For his sake also."

"And what should we do if we encounter more children like those twins? Or even them again. Considering how successful his resurrections are, he's unlikely to stop trying." I sighed. "Can you bear to kill them? Or if we capture them instead, what should we do next? Take them with us on our quest? Just wait until they return to dust? How is that any better?"

"We do what we can," he said, his voice firm. "Only a fool believes that everyone can be saved. If those children are undead abominations then we will deal with them as we must."

The children were not undead. Not truly. Two was using Chronomancy, not Necromancy, in his attempts at resurrection. He tried to make it as if their death never happened. The children were trapped between two timelines, one in which they lived and one in which they died.

Now that I thought more about it, such existence could be categorized as undead.

I should write a paper about it.

Not that I had anywhere to publish it. Sometimes I really missed the Magus Association, even with all the problems I had with them.

I closed my eyes, focused for a moment, then opened them, and said, "I sense two places where he could be. One is more likely, but I think we should visit the other place first. But first, let me wipe the blood from your face before it attracts monsters."

With a simple mental nudge, the slime spread over my hand, like some garish glove. Gently I ran my fingers over the blood-covered skin on his face. The slime consumed the blood, leaving only clean skin.

The action was too little, too late. For when we proceeded deeper into the facility we were beset by monsters. In cramped corridors, Archer used his Elven sword rather than a bow. Gracefully he carved the thin pale humanoid into chunks. First hand, then petal-like head.

Meanwhile, I faced two dog-like creatures. Larmo was otherwise occupied, so I faced them bare-handed. Not completely bare. My fists were covered by the Five Colored Slime. Not only did the covering serve to protect my hands in combat, but each strike would also melt the flesh to the bone.

The dog things tried to flank me, one from the left and one from the right. Their maws open, they charged. I slipped my hands between petal-like protrusions, grabbing them both by the throat, and then it was over. The flesh melted under my grip and their heads separated from their bodies.

In less than five seconds, all creatures were killed.

We ventured further into the building, eventually finding a room that appeared to be a surveillance center. However, none of the screens were operational, and many were shattered.

In what seemed to be a director's office, we found another child. He was bald, dressed in a ragged hospital gown, and sat quietly behind a desk.

"Here," I said, offering the child a chocolate bar. "You'll find this tastes much better than I do."

Without uttering a word, the child took the bar, unwrapped it, and began to eat messily.

"Interesting approach," Archer commented.

"As you said, we do as we must," I replied, in a light joking tone, "Even if that means sacrificing some good chocolate."

The child paused in his eating to giggle a little, finding humour in my words.

When the bar was finished, the child extended his hand towards me.

"Do you want another one?" I asked.

The child extended his other hand. In it was a black ball with a small screen - a Magic 8 Ball.

The child shook it, and soon the writing appeared, "All signs point towards yes."

"I have another one. But you have to do something for me. Tell me how to get underground."

The child blinked, then stood up. He went to a nearby file cabinet and returned with some papers, which he offered to me.

I accepted them and handed over the second chocolate bar.

The papers turned out to be blueprints of the facility.

"I know where we have to go," I said to Archer.

But as we turned to leave, Archer asked the child, "Do you want to come with us?"

I blinked in surprise. What!? I wanted to question Archer's intentions, but not in front of the child. And using telepathy would only cause a nosebleed, which could not only attract monsters but could also be perceived as aggression.

I couldn't see a positive outcome to this situation.

The child shook the Magic 8 Ball. "Most likely," it read. He then extended his chocolate-stained hand to Archer. I noticed the number ten tattooed on his wrist.

Following the blueprints, we found an elevator. Or rather, an open elevator shaft. The elevator itself was nowhere to be seen, and the doors had been forced open.

I peered down the shaft. It was too dark to see anything, but when I shone a light down, I could see the elevator at the bottom, its top torn apart.

When I turned back, Archer was kneeling on the floor, picking up the plastic ball. Ten was gone.

I took a deep breath and said, "Was it worth it? You knew it would end this way."

"Yes. At least he wasn't alone in the end."

Ten was a boy? I hadn't known that. Not that it mattered now.

"Come, we need to climb down," I said, choosing to leave the rest unspoken.

After we climbed down the shaft, we found that the doors on the bottom level had also been pried open. I led us through the unlit corridors to the first place where I had sensed a disturbance.

We found several corpses along the way, all dressed in hazmat suits.

"Od drain. But no sign of the Reality Marble," I said after examining the latest corpse, "Same as the others. Is the scent the same?"

"Yes," Archer replied, "Pure Two. But the fresher the scent, the less human Two smells. More butterfly and lost time."

"So we're almost certain. Demonic Possession," I rubbed my forehead. "We're trained to deal with that."

"You mean at the camp?"

"Yes. There's nothing to fear when it's two against the devil."

"A cult, then?"

"Probably. Two has demonstrated some ability for mental interference." I turned towards the gate. "I need to close this gate before we proceed further."

"You planned that from the start," he said, examining another corpse. "That's why you wanted to come here first."

"Yes," I confessed, observing the gate. I usually used the spell Retrace to reopen closed portals. But using it to close an open gate should work too, since it was based on 'returning to the previous state'. There was a time when this portal didn't exist. On the other hand, perhaps it would be better to use the Cat's Cradle to fold space until the gate was no longer viable.

"Why?" Archer asked, kneeling by a dead man in a lab coat.

"What Two is doing is creating quite a mess. I'd prefer to isolate it before we interfere. Even if it delays us a little."

"Stop!" Archer exclaimed, examining the body closest to the gate. "This one is still alive."

I stopped what I was doing and went to see what Archer had found. By the time I arrived, he had already cut the man's bonds. The unconscious man was dressed in blue jeans, a checkered shirt, and a brown jacket. I extended a tentacle from the slime to examine him myself.

"Just some bruising. He was hit on the head, but there's no contusion. Some damage from the fall, and light poisoning from this environment," I gave a brief diagnosis, then used the tentacle to gently slap the man's unshaven face. "No reason not to wake him."

The man's eyes opened, and he tensed at the sight of the tentacle, but he didn't flail or scream. Very controlled.

"Greetings. My name is Rin and this is Fano," I introduced us to him.

"What are you?" the man growled. "Where are we?"

"Are you going to introduce yourself? It's only polite."

"James Hopper. Now answer my questions!"

So this was Sheriff Jim Hopper. He looked a bit different than on television. But I've learned that's often the case. The knowledge I had was a glimpse into other worlds, but in the end, not much better than other forms of divination.

Briefly, I wondered what he was doing here, but it was obvious. He had sneaked into Hawkins National Lab, was caught, and sacrificed.

"The answers would make little sense without context. Knowing little, you will understand little," I said cryptically. It was a nice way to lie without lying. Due to my new gift, he might believe me if I plainly told him that I am an Elf, but what purpose would that serve? "If I tell you what our kind calls ourselves in our language which you do not know, what good would it do? We are thinking beings, alike and yet different from humans. A similar but different melody, in the song of the spheres."

"And you have tentacles," Hopper added.

"No," I replied. I extended my hand palm up, and the Five Colored Slime's tendrils crawled from under my sleeves and spread upwards on my palm. "This is just a tool."

The tentacles wiggled.

"Tool? What kind of tool? No matter," Hopper said. I was a bit disappointed. I wouldn't mind elaborating a bit on the slime I made, even if we were a bit short on time. "I have something I need to know more about. The answer to my second question: where are we? Or do you think that I am too stupid to know the answer to that question too?"

"I would rather say ignorant," I said. "We are infinitely close and infinitely far from the place named Hawkins National Lab. We dwell in its shadow. A dark reflection."

"It is not a safe place for humans," Archer added, "But we will protect you."

"I can take care of myself," Hopper said firmly, "Do you know how I can get back?"

"Same way you came here," I answered and pointed at the gate. Hopper's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the pulsing organic structure. "Through the gate. But if you are to do that, you should do it now. I plan to close the path."

"You may not be safe on the other side," Archer added, "Someone has been offering human sacrifices."

"It is my job to stop people like that," Hopper replied, standing up. "How do I pass through?"

"Just push through the membrane," I explained. "It may be a little unpleasant, but it won't harm you."

"Just one more question," Hopper said. "I am looking for a boy. Is there a child's body among the corpses?"

"Not here," Archer answered. "All corpses are that of adults. Are you seeking Two? He is not a sacrifice. He is the one they are sacrificing to."

"Two?" Hopper looked confused. "No, the boy I am looking for is called Will. Will Byers."

"Will Byers is safe, with his mother and brother," I interrupted before Archer complicated the matter further. "Much safer than those left in Hawkins. Are you ready to leave? The gate must be closed. Sooner the better."

Archer offered some advice to Jim, "From my experience, when the gate closes, the cultists will panic. You'll have an opportunity. Whether you use it to escape or to subdue them, I leave it to your discretion. You know your capabilities best."

"Just push through," Hopper echoed. He touched the pulsating surface of the gate and then pulled his hand back, wiping his fingers on his jeans with a grimace.

I could feel the moment upon us. The point where possibilities intersected, and where one could nudge them with a little push.

"I will close the gate as soon as you pass. Go with our blessings and bring justice where it is sorely needed," I said, imbuing the words with greater meaning. The precise tone of voice, expression, and exact timing turned that into more than just words.

Not that words didn't matter. Simple encouragement could mean the difference between success and failure.

This blessing was the same concept, elevated by precision and Lore to a higher level. In the same way, Elves could make a rope that was practically a soft robot, capable of tying and untying itself, by hand from a tree bark.

Blood dripped from my nose. This world was harsh. Any step beyond set boundaries caused a backlash, even in an Eldar body.

That blessing was a small thing, but I couldn't offer much. I had to preserve strength for the confrontation with Two.

The effect was both immediate and visible. Hopper stood straighter, more confident. He almost looked taller, nobler, like an ancient hero from elder myths.

Now, without any hesitation, he began to push in, and the membrane parted before him.

I could almost see how that would change the future. Where before he would hesitate, now he would act. And those opposed to him would taste fear and doubt.

Archer had murmured an incantation and his elven sword began to glow with holy light. I had seen it before, in the battle with the Three Worst Girls Since Eve.

Confirming my suspicion, Archer pushed the sword into the floor, then kneeled before it, praying softly. After all, this was not a sword meant to be used on enemies.

I didn't know what he was praying for, but I hoped he wasn't wasting effort trying to help close the gate. I was quite capable of doing that on my own.

Enough time had passed. Hopper should be on the other side, facing Brenner and the men that remained with him. The gate needed to be closed right now.

"Retrace," I incanted, raising my hand towards the pulsating wound in reality.

It was strange. I usually found the weakness, a trace of the previous gate, and pried it open. The only portals I had closed until now were the ones I had made in the first place.

I looked into the pulsing organic gate, and sought what it was before.

Where before I looked for scars in the flesh of the World, now I was searching for the unmarred surface of the world. In a way, this could be seen as healing.

Could it be, that I could apply this spell, with some modification, to heal actual wounds? Or to reopen an old scar?

An interesting idea, but for later.

Now that I found it, it was almost easy.

The portal was unnatural. The Worlds, both of them, wanted it closed. The reflection and that which was reflected should be separated, not touching.

But something was keeping it open. As I tried to close the gate, I could feel a will opposing me.

A flicker of vision. A spider made of black particles.

But against my trained will, it could not hold. Especially since keeping the gate open was already such an effort.

I was just tipping the balance into a lower energy state.

The gate collapsed into nothing. Or rather, due to its organic appearance, it looked more like an infected wound healing.

The vision was not utterly unexpected.

I knew about the so-called Mind Flayer from the show. Considering what it was, the lynchpin of the hive mind, perhaps Elder Brain would be a better name for it.

No matter. My actions had taken children out of danger. Avoiding them naming things was just a nice bonus.

And then it was like a nail driven into my head.

A grail-generated chocolate bar helped with that. But this was the last one I had on me.

But that wasn't really a problem. I took out the key, and ordered, "Cid, bring the police box. Also, have Jay bring me more grail chocolate bars."

The police box appeared almost immediately, materializing in the middle of the room, in a part that was free of corpses.

Jay, on the other hand, took a few minutes. By that time, Archer had finished his prayer.

"Take one," I said, offering my partner one of the bars that Jay had brought. "What did you pray for?"

"For Hopper's success," he replied, fiercely biting the bar, "If he is to deal with the problem you created, he needs all the help he can get."

"Are you angry with me?" I asked, sensing his frustration.

"I am standing in a room filled with corpses, in a facility haunted by undead children," he pointed at me with his half-eaten bar, "And it is all your fault."

"I didn't mean for this to happen," I tried to defend myself. It was a weak defence. I knew better. The first lesson about dealing with demons is never to leave a demon unbound. And Archer knew that I knew better.

He wasn't buying it. "What did you expect when you unleashed a demon on a world that has no defences against it? Were you so blinded by anger that you didn't think at all? Or did you use anger as an excuse? Did you want to see what would happen with a demon if you unsealed it?" He took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself. "This is not the time for this. We need to deal with Two first. But afterwards, we need to have a serious discussion."

"We should take time," I said, "There is nothing to fear when there are two against the devil. But we need trust for that. Have I lost yours?"

"Not yet," he assured me, "But we still need to clear the air between us. Just not now."

"Then let us be on our way." I turned to Jay, "Collect the corpses and store them. After that, return the police box."

I tried not to think about it as I led us to the second anomaly. He was right about one thing. Now was not the time for distractions.

I suppose we had relied too much on unspoken words and assumptions. My lover was right. We needed to sit and talk.

We encountered a trio of children on the way. But these ones were already falling apart.

Flickering between being children and desiccated corpses. Utterly mad. Unable to speak.

Although they were not weak.

Their telekinesis was potent but undisciplined.

There was nothing to be done, but to put them to rest.

It was easier when they were like that.

But Archer was still quite troubled afterwards.

The source of the second anomaly was among the pipes and other rusted machinery.

There was nothing to see with just eyes, but I could feel it. Pulling beneath the skin of this twisted world.

"Retrace," I incanted and tore reality apart. The cloying scent of blood came from the tear I made.

We passed through and emerged in the same room but it was different. The walls and machinery seemed newer. The dull red rust was replaced by a crimson splatter of blood. It was everywhere, along with pieces of flesh and bone. There were hands and legs and torn viscera carelessly tossed around. And heads. About a dozen or so heads. All with the same blond hair, and the same face.

A girl sobbed in the corner. It was Jane/Eleven, but a few years younger.

But it was the winged boy that drew attention.

I recognized Two, even if the corruption had progressed, robbing him of his human form.

He held one of the heads in his hands, which were covered in chitin, fingers twisted into claws. The chitin replaced most of his skin. It was as if he was armored. Beautiful butterfly wings spread from his back. A pair of insect antennae sprouted from his forehead.

"It is not enough," the malformed boy spoke, his voice eldritch and twisted, "No matter how many times I kill him, it is never enough."