Unity Carl Stubblefield (read book TXT) 📖

painful and private that would not help relate in any way. It only made him feel weird and uncomfortable with how he should react and more uncertainty on how to interact normally with Prime.

He fought the tension that made him stiffen when the car shifted him towards Prime, as if she would detect the change in his posture and know what he had done. It was difficult to know what he should be doing to improve and level up, but he felt unsettled with using his powers in this way.

He was horrible at breaking the ice and was so uneasy with new groups, especially those who didn’t share his own interests, that he was surprised “awkward pause” wasn’t a skill he had leveled up to a mastery level. Social interaction was easier one on one, but in bigger groups he tended to fade into the background, content to watch and observe, trying to find his place.

There was an abrupt jolt as the vehicle suddenly stopped. Below them, the courier could be seen landing in an alcove and delivering a package to a nondescript weathered door. A small window opened, reminding Gus of a speakeasy, and after a brief interaction a package was slid into an opening in the base of the door. The courier hustled back to the alcove and took off.

“This is the place,” Yuki announced.

“Good luck getting in there,” Grimdark said without emotion.

“Leave that to me. Let’s get this over with,” Prime said, obviously agitated but resigned to see this through.

Yuki nudged the transport gently down to the same alcove the courier had recently occupied and powered down the vehicle.

“I’ll be ready to go at a moment’s notice, but give me a heads up when you can so I can have everything ready to go,” Yuki suggested.

“Hopefully, this won’t require a speedy escape, but noted,” Tempest said. “Everyone ready to go into the lion’s den?”

The tiny rusty panel slid back, revealing large, wide-set eyes.

“Who are you? Whaddya want?” a deep voice demanded, eyes flitting to the different members of the party.

“We have a delivery—”

“Don’t recognize ya, you’re not one of the authorized couriers—so see ya, bye-bye,” the gruff voice barked, punctuated by a slam of the tiny panel.

Tempest stared at the closed door, unsure of how to proceed.

Prime let loose a large sigh and stepped to the front. She knocked on the door again, insistently. An irritated grumble followed by a deep growl resonated on the other side of the door.

“We request an audience,” Prime insisted, removing something from a pocket on her jacket.

The irritated voice slammed the panel open again, eyes reappearing, more bloodshot and enraged. A tirade of curses and threats began to spill forth as Prime calmly held her palm to the window. And Gus briefly saw the eyes morph from rage to fear before Prime’s hand obscured his view.

“I’m sorry, mistress, please forgive me,” a demure reply murmured, thick with embarrassment. Prime replaced whatever she had in her hand as multiple locks and clicks sounded and the door swung inward ponderously. The Crew followed Prime as she strutted through the doorway as if she owned the place, her demeanor changing to one of haughty bearing.

As they passed the doorway, Gus saw the doorman standing sheepishly behind the door. A stocky creature nearly as wide as he was tall stood there, obviously exhibiting signs of being a human-rhino hybrid. His tough, rubbery gray skin and a prominent set of dual horns were bowed, avoiding eye contact with Prime as she passed.

A willowy hybrid in an almond-colored tunic motioned for them to follow, but Prime paid her no heed. She walked purposefully forward and through a shimmering curtain that twinkled like a waterfall of colored beads of light as the guide hurried to catch up.

Stepping through, Gus had to blink away the glare as the dingy environment was replaced with a pristine formal throne room. The scent of cinnamon and citrus hung thick in the air, almost, but not quite, masking the feral scent of animal musk that was heavy in the room. The Crew goggled at the unexpected sight of something so regal hidden among the dinginess of the exterior.

A court of advisors and individuals stood conferring with each other, while others stood at attention, awaiting orders from their betters. Walking down a carpeted pathway towards a raised dais, they passed all forms of hybrids, also in the tawny sleeveless robes. Different textures and colors on the exposed arms hinted at the cowled figures’ unique hybrid nature. No simple human skin was evident in this inner sanctum.

It was amazing to see how much could be done with blending DNA, and Gus had never seen a hybrid in real life, and here was an entire menagerie. Intelligent eyes peered at him from the shadows of their hoods, evaluating him and the others as they followed Prime closer to stand in front of the dais.

“I request an audience in appeal to the accords,” Prime said resolutely, almost defiantly, at the two hooded figures sitting on dual thrones near the center of the circular room.

“What do you know of the accords, outsider?” A large robed figure stepped forward defensively, baring large fangs. His black fur glistened and a large paw clutched a jeweled staff, claws extending without subtlety.

The vizier pulled on his whiskers, exaggerating his already contemptuous sneer.

Prime began to repeat her request, “I know my rights—”

The large panther-man slashed down with his paw. “Silence! You are owed nothing! We are not regs to be intimidated by your oppressive Factions. You have no authority here!” He bared his fangs and a low guttural growl resonated in his throat.

One of the enthroned figures raised a placating hand.

“Calm yourself, LaVarn. If I am correct, the prodigal has returned at last,” a sultry female voice purred, lightly sniffing the air as she turned to the visitors. “Approach and show yourselves.”

Undaunted, Prime reached to the helmet and released some fasteners that kept it connected to the jumpsuit. There was an