In the dead of night, a single building illuminated the otherwise pitch-black streets of an unknown city. Its towering chimneys belched thick clouds of smoke into the starless sky, forming endless columns that pierced the heavens. Inside, the air was stiflingly hot, heavy with the metallic tang of molten steel. Countless furnaces roared, feeding an army of mechanical contraptions that tirelessly churned out weapons and armor along an assembly line.
A middle-aged woman with graying chestnut hair scrutinized the stream of armaments being produced. Her practiced eye caught every flaw, her hands quick to discard subpar pieces. Suddenly, a thunderous clap echoed from the workshop's entrance, shaking the entire building.
Middle-aged woman: "Dammit...!"
Red warning lights bathed the workshop in an ominous glow. At the counter near the entrance, two mechanical turrets whirred to life, aiming at a grey portal that materialized out of thin air. From the portal stepped an elderly man, calm amidst the chaos.
A crackling voice burst from the workshop's overhead speakers, laced with static.
Young girl: "Stay very still, old man! Move a muscle, and I'll turn you into a very dead, very wrinkly strainer!"
The older woman rushed to the entrance as fast as she could, but it seemed she was too late. A loud clattering soon followed as the turrets malfunctioned, parts flying across the workshop floor.
Middle-aged woman: "Foolish girl..."
Young girl: "Crap! I thought they'd work this time...!"
From beneath the counter, a young girl popped into view. Her wild ginger hair poked out beneath a welder's mask, and she clutched a makeshift rifle -- an unsteady twin of the turrets she'd cobbled together. She aimed the rifle at the intruder, her stance defiant.
Young girl: "Who are you, and how the hell did you get here?!"
The old man chuckled softly.
Ballo: "Are you sure you want to use that? Look what happened to your other 'thingamajigs.'"
The girl froze, lowering her rifle at the sound of his voice.
Young girl: "... Owl?!"
Ballo: "Not anymore. Is your teacher here?"
She perked up proudly, lifting her chin.
Young girl: "Ah-ah! Not my teacher anymore either -- I graduated! Well..."
She glanced at the pile of broken metal pieces scattered across the floor.
Young girl: "... barely."
From the corner of the workshop came the older woman, her expression one of thunderous anger.
Middle-aged woman: "YOU!"
Straight as an arrow, her index finger points at the girl.
Middle-aged: "How many times --"
Her reprimand dissolved into a coughing fit, giving the younger woman a window of escape.
Young girl: "I know, I know! Just a couple of loose bolts, that's all. I'll fix it -- sorry!"
Gathering up an armful of broken parts, she bolted to the back of the workshop.
Middle-aged woman: "We're not done, Rotavitea!"
Rotavitea (Young girl): "What's that? Can't hear you, it's too noisy back here!"
The older woman sighed deeply before turning to Ballo. Her sharp gaze softened, but not by much.
YOU ARE READING
Tales of Undeath: The Von Virtus Chronicles
FantasyLong ago, in a world not dissimilar from our own, seven powerful mysterious weapons were forged. After centuries of dormancy, safely hidden from those who could abuse their power, one man's curiosity drove him to discover the resting place of one su...
