7th November 2012
Roughly 10:07 GMT -5
"Alan?
"
"Yeah?"
I push myself off the ground, ignoring something semi-liquid sticking to my gauntlets and cuirass.
"You alright?
"
"I've been better."
I look left and see Alan picking himself up slightly more gingerly, his back and left side soaked in the same stuff that my ring is now cleaning off me.
Oh, it's… Blood. A thin film of the stuff is spraying down from somewhere above us. Frowning slightly, I generate a construct umbrella and set my environmental shield to clean me off. Alan
copies me, though his umbrella is more classic and less
aerodynamic.
"You mind cleaning me off?"
I raise my left hand, a beam of orange playing over him and pushing the blood
down like a window washer's scraper pushing suds off a window.
"Thanks. That was bringing back some
very uncomfortable memories."
"Happy to help.
"
I look around. It
looks like we're still on Liberty Island, though I'm a bit worried about…
Oh.
The torch of the Statue of Liberty appears to have been replaced by a
sprinkler, coating the entire island, a swath of the sea and part of the mainland with a fine misting of vitae. New York itself appears to have been replaced by… Gotham? No, not gothic enough. Hub..?
No. Blüdhaven. Looks like Blüdhaven. Which might explain why no one's shouting about the rain of blood: they're used to it.
Boss Smiley's face is still there, big and yellow, but it doesn't look animated any longer. I fly up, and… No, no reaction. The dimensions of the hands and feet have changed a little and-. The date on the tablet now reads August MDCXIX, which is probably an important date in American history.
"Where did that eagle fellah go?" Alan
floats up behind me. "Did he come with us?"
"Don't know. Eagle!?
"
"Where
is here, anyhow? That doesn't look much like New York to
me."
"Rough guess, this is a part of America's collective psyche. Maybe another part of the Heartland-.
"
I take a closer look at the Statue's tiara.
"There he is.
"
I drift closer, peering in through one of the glassless window to where the eagle is hunched up in one corner, shivering and fluffing his feathers up.
"Eagle?
"
"
We're in the bad place we're in the bad place…"
"Is he okay?"
"Alan, I would never normally suggest this, but I think we might need to cheer him up by singing uplifting American patriotic music.
"
"You must be desperate." He
floats up alongside me "Maybe a dead mouse or something?"
"It may surprise you to hear this, but I don't routinely carry dead mice around with me.
"
"You don't?" He.. actually sounds surprised. "I just thought you had one of everything in there."
"No, because sustaining a larger subspace volume slightly reduced my maximum charge. I try to only carry things I've got a reasonable chance of needing. Usually, I can just fabricate food, but…
" I look up at the blood fountain.
"I'm a little worried about the sort of spiritual energy it would pick up around here.
"
Alan
flies right up to the window before awkwardly clambering inside. The room inside looks tatty but basically structurally sound, as if… Someone deliberately built the interior to look untidy and it's
setting off my OCD.
"Hey, buddy." Alan kneels down next to the clearly freaked out eagle. "You doing okay there?"
"
We're in the bad place!
We're in the bad place. And that's really bad."
"Okay, can you tell us about it?"
"This is the
opposite of the Heartland!"
"Like, the..? The Lungland?"
"What?" The eagle raises his head slightly above his wings so that he can stare at Alan. "What? How is a
lung the opposite-?"
"Footland?"
"No-! Like… Like blackhear-rrrrrr…" … "Evil Heartland."
"I'm going to guess that while the Heartlands is a sort of
idealised America, this is the less optimistic place.
"
"Yeah." The eagle nods. "All of the worst bits and the worst interpretation of the rest with none of the positive bits."
"Is it dangerous to you?"
"It's dangerous to
all of us. But… No, just being here won't hurt me. But the locals will
know that I don't belong here."
"Good show. What locals are we-?
"
Something taps on the left side of my helmet. Unlike my heavy armour which doesn't have a separate headpiece, my current generation light armour's helmet let's me look left and right without compromising the protection. So I turn my head, and am greeted by the face of a
bird.
"Still alive then? Okay. Let me know if that changes."
"
Oh no."
I narrow my eyes.
"And what are you supposed to be?
"
"Oh, you know. This and that. Don't mind me."
"She's the Vulture of Death!"
"No I'm not." She looks away for a moment. "Scavengers have an important role in the ecosystem, I'll have you know. We don't usually kill things ourselves."
"Someone else does all the work and you get all the benefit!"
Alan looks at the vulture. "You two know each other?"
"Oh. You know." The vulture ruffles her wings. "It's the Nixon-Kennedy thing. '
When they see you, they see what they want to be. When they see me, they see what they are.' We're naturally antithetical. He bangs on about freedom. I just do my thing."
"Eagle, if you want to get out, you need to pull yourself together. You've crashed, there was no parachute, but you're still alive. Do you want to stay that way? Do you want to rescue Sam?
"
"Yeah." The eagle straightens up slightly, then flaps its wings and flies over to perch on the edge of the tiara window. "But this is going to be
hard."
Just like John. Good enough is good enough, huh?
