Chapter Text
Once upon a time in a distant universe lived a child with the power to level galaxies. She had a unique ability to absorb all types of energy and transfer it into her own. She looked like a monster with claws sharp as scalpels, and had dark green skin that traveled up her back that encompassed her arms and legs. There were flecks of sparkling light that followed her dark green skin. Her face, though, was human-like, and her hair was blonde, save for the roots and ends, which took on a dark green color. Her eyes are blue with traces of green decorating her iris.
The monster's name was Malika, and she was tired. Malika may have had the appearance of a child, but she was eighty-eight years old. She was aging more slowly over time, and she suspected that she would remain short forever. Malika was raised in a lab, a genetic experiment gone wrong. Malika had no feeling of pain, though she was able to feel both cold and warmth.
Malika’s power was a unique one; she could drain the energy from both living and nonliving things and convert that energy into her own. She could even absorb kinetic energy, making her capable of absorbing bullets if she so chose.
It was raining today. It was a cold, wet, and miserable day. Malika was currently sitting at the grave of a friend who had recently passed. His name was Percy, and he had been her friend through thick and thin. He was her only friend. He was with her from when he was a child till the day he died of old age.
She fiddled a little with a bracelet, the last thing Percy had gifted her before he died. It was a small chain with a butterfly pendant attached to it. Percy had made the bracelet especially for her. It was an advanced form of technology. Its true purpose was to disguise her form into a human one. “Keep it close, keep it safe,” Percy had told her once. He had been aging in years and was on his deathbed by the time she received it. He wanted her to fit in and make new friends when he was gone. How could she, when he was the only one who accepted her form for what it was?
Malika sighed as she sat on his gravestone, putting a hand under her chin. She supposed she could befriend his descendants, but they weren’t him. It just wasn’t the same. They didn’t have his personality. It would hurt too much to look at them and notice the similarities between them and Percy. They would be strangers, yet a familiar presence all the same. No, best not to befriend them; they might not even like her, old as she was.
She felt the ends of her hair grow static, as if the winds had ceased. She sensed something powerful forming just below her feet. An explosion of energy rippled through the air as she pulled her legs up. She swiftly stood up atop Percy’s gravestone, just as a glowing light seemed to stretch where her feet had been, until it had formed a rainbow of swirls right below. She eyed what she assumed to be some kind of portal. The portal did not seem to affect the surrounding environment; the grass around was no closer than it already was. She carefully hopped down from Percy’s gravestone and inspected the portal. Swiftly, she took a blade a grass and dropped it into the portal; it didn’t return.
Interesting, she thought. She pondered for a moment about jumping in. It's not like people would miss her. Percy’s dead, and the entire town is on shaky ground with her. It would be so easy to disappear into the unknown. She was by no means suicidal; it's not like she could die anyway, she regenerated from bullet holes in mere seconds after being shot.
This portal reminded her of a legend long ago. Perfren had a power similar to hers. He had the ability to consume stars. He was said to have grown so powerful that with a touch of a finger, he could consume galaxies. He had grown too large for his dimension. Greedy as he was, he forced the few souls still alive to build him a portal. His name was Amber. Now, Amber was crafty; he knew that Perfren desired to devour the multiverse, so he tricked Perfren. He crafted a portal between space and time. Perfren was locked within a sea of blackness, a place devoid of both light and hope. There, he slowly starved to death, with no one to hear his cries.
The moral Malika learned from that story is to always beware of the portal you’re stepping through. You never know if it could lead to the void. Malika took one step backward, forgetting that the ground was wet, and slipped on the grass. She fell forward into the portal, the light consumed her as her vision was filled with the rainbow colors. Dang it.
She fell to the floor with a resounding thud. Her failure was further enhanced as it echoed through what she now assumed was a cave she had been transported to. The portal, she could get back if she jumped through. She quickly whipped around, but to her horror, the portal was nowhere to be seen. It seemed she was trapped in this new world, wherever here was. She may even be on the same planet if she were lucky.
She walked toward the cave entrance, sunlight glaring down on her. Maybe she was on Earth after all. Well, it could be worse, she thought as she put her hand on a nearby tree. She was feeling a bit hungry anyways. The tree began to wither as she drained its life, the bark changing to the color of her green skin.
Now Malika, being only half human, did not need to eat; she could survive solely off the life-force of the trees, but she rather liked nature and didn't want to ruin the landscape. It didn’t mean she never got hungry, though. In fact, she had a sweet tooth.
It was best she find some kind of town, preferably one with an abundance of energy radiating from it. If not, she's not sure what she would do. Guess she would have to use her powers sparingly. Hopefully, they at least have something sweet to eat.
She walked for what seemed like hours through the forest. Finally, she found the trees clearing as she spied a village about a hundred feet south. As she approached the city, she could see smoke billowing out of chimneys and horse-drawn carts trotting through the outskirts of the city. She thought back to those sci-fi movies Percy used to watch, one of which was when the protagonist was sent back in time to an unknown land. She hoped that wasn't the case, but with her luck, it was more than likely. Malika surveyed her surroundings; everything appeared to be made of wood. There were wooden lamp posts, wooden fences, and wooded buildings. In fact, she was sure she went through a time hole because the women wore long dresses and the men in suits. Great, not only was she lost, she was lost in time.
Excuse me,” said Malika to a passerby. “Yes, what do you want, girl? The man asked. They had an eyepatch over their eye. Malika asked by that she presumed to be a pirate question. “What is the date?” The man tilted his head in confusion. “Date? Have you lost your marbles or something? Why it's eighteen o four.” “Thank you,” said Malika as she walked away. Great, she was stuck seven hundred and twenty years in the past
People gave her odd glances as she walked through the busy streets. Did she smell something? She sniffed her clothes; they smelled of ash and flowers. It had been a while since she last bathed. Huh, maybe she should shower or their equivalent of jumping in the river. Or maybe her clothes, she might need to steal some later on.
The day had long since passed as she walked the deserted street. She had been walking for hours, the once bustling street now barren and cold. She was getting pretty tired. There, an ominous, barren alley. Malika walked toward the creepy, dark alleyway. A man was sitting towards the back, his eyes watching her as she sat down against the wall. “Where did you get that bracelet. I bet someone would pay for it,” the man said, his toothy grin unnerving her. Malika closed her eyes again, determined to sleep. It was then she felt a yank on her wrist where her bracelet was. Just at once, her disguise fell, and the thief looked shocked as well before darting off. The bracelet that Percy had given her was gone. Stolen from her wrist. She had a thief to find.
Terry lived a rough life. Being the oldest of his siblings, he was working in factories since he was eight years old, up until he was twenty-one. Kicked out of his home, he was left desolate. He still remembers being a scrawny lad stealing his first pocket watch. He made a killing off it, lasting a few months before needing to steal again. He made his living swindling and stealing from rich and poor alike. In fact, he took pride in it. He was known as the Fanged Bandit, due to a tooth that had been chipped to a point. He was skilled with pickpocketing and on a good day, could make over fifty pounds worth of stolen goods. He had been leaning against a wall when he saw a frail child lying on the ground. There lay a half-starved girl with a beautiful bracelet on her wrist. An expensive bracelet by the looks of it, and the girl looked like she had one foot in death’s door already. An easy catch. Like stealing candy from a baby. So imagine his surprise when the girl transformed into a fairy, with claws that could rend his flesh just as easily. He ran out of the alleyway, sprinting, clinging to the bracelet like it was a lifeline. He paused to catch his breath. He inspected the bracelet; it had a shimmering gleam to it. Something a fairy might wear. Terry wasn’t one to know the ins and outs of fairy society, but he bet he could make a pretty penny off this bracelet. It was then that he noticed in the corner of his vision, a large figure overshadowing him. What the heck. He slowly turned around, hands trembling in fear. A large wolf from which appeared to be made of green sand, was sitting behind him. It then pounced on him, pinned him to the ground. Terry was ashamed to say he fainted on the spot. His vision was one of gnashing teeth and sparkling dark green.
Malika was not a happy bunny; not only had someone stolen her bracelet, but she was even more tired than she had been after getting it back. She kicked the now unconscious thief in the shins. It's all his fault. Stupid thief, stupid town, stupid portal. She felt her stomach gurgle. Worst of all, now she was hungry. Malika found a different alley, one devoid of people, and lay against the wall. Malika hid her arm in her cloak and tried to sleep through the hunger.
She was awoken by the loud neigh of a horse as their owner tried to rein it in. She heard birds chirping during the day-to-day commute. It was then she saw a boy walk towards her, a little taller than her. Percy? she thought. The boy had the same brown hair Percy had same brown eyes; it pained her to look at him. No, Percy is dead and gone, and he’s not coming back. The boy then handed her something, a penny, she realized. “Here for you,” the boy smiled. “Jeffery!” a yell came from the crowd, and a woman marched towards him. The boy, who was not Percy, startled and swiftly turned around just as the woman was a few feet away.
If she just pulled, she could steal the life of this boy. The tantalizing energy that was stored in the human body was tempting. Malika couldn’t meet the boy’s eyes; she was too ashamed to. No, she was better than that; she had to be better. Percy would be disappointed in her. The lady beside him swiftly yanked her son away from her. It was probably a good thing she did. Malika’s a monster. The woman gave her a distasteful look, as she could see right through her disguise. “Give the urchin a penny, and they’ll want a pound, son,” the lady whispered. The lady then dragged her son away, giving Malika a scornful look while doing so. Urchin? Who’s she calling urchin, that snob-nosed pig? Why she oughta-, Malika is calm, and cool, cool as a cucumber. She is perfectly fine and won’t let the comment get the best of her. Be the better person. Be like Percy.
Well, now she has at least a little money in this strange and foreign land. What could she spend her money on? Hmm, Malika’s stomach began to grumble. She'd better find something to eat and fast. “Candy for a penny, come get your candy for a penny,” yelled a boy, holding a sign that read Ye Candy. Candy, well, that's just perfect, exactly what she was looking for. A poster was taped to the wall of the candy store. It read Count Bleck and the Phantom Thieves. It featured a man with a monocle on the front, and by the side, a flaming hat. It said Marcus Laven-something would be starring as Count Bleck and they would be performing at the Rose Theater. Whoever that was. Probably not important, she doubted she had enough for a ticket anyway.
How to get home, though? She doesn’t even know why that portal opened in the first place. How in the universe would she find a way to get back? Did she even want to get back? The town was mean and only tolerated her because she was Percy’s friend. On the bright side, this could be a chance for a brand new start. As long as she kept her cravings under control, that is. She didn’t need to be on some newspaper’s front page, reading Malika the Cannibal. Would it be cannibalism? She's not sure.
Malika wandered the city for ages. Aimless and lost. Malika, at one point, became so desperate that when she found flowers sitting out in front of a flower shop absorbed their energy, turning them into dust. She needed money; perhaps she could get hired. But who would hire a scrawny girl with no skills? She needed food, and it was very tempting to go back to the trees. If only she knew the way out of the city. The morning commute was growing thicker, and it was getting harder to navigate through the crowd.
A loud booming of drums shook her from her thoughts, followed by trumpets playing in the town square. Already, a large crowd was beginning to gather. She, being a small child, couldn’t see what the commotion was about. It was only after persistent pushing and shoving that she was able to find a table to stand on. “Welcome one and all to Le Troupe de Marcus,” Announced a man in a jester costume. The jester then somersaulted off the podium onto one of the many poles the troupe was holding. He then jumped from one pole to the next and then jumped back onto the podium. “Come one, come all, tonight and tonight only the legendary Marcus Lavenscy will be performing in the Rose Theater,” the jester announced. He then proceeded to cartwheel off the podium and onto the street, drawing ohs and ahs from the crowd.
The jester wore some kind of mask whose grin seemed to stretch as it danced. The mask was off-putting to Malika; she couldn’t sense energy radiating off the jester. Instead, the energy was coming off the mask. The roots of that energy dug into the body, like a parasite. Never before had she encountered something like this. She wanted to find out why. She decided she would follow this weird jester and discover the mystery herself, like one of those spy movies. She got off her table and tried to push through the mass, only finding herself being squished on all sides. It was no use, there were too many people. Malika’s next mission was to find the Rose Theater. The jester would probably be performing there. She hoped, maybe?
“Permit me entrance, sir,” Malika asked quietly. This wasn’t going to work, was it? The man had a thin, shaped face; he looked stern. “We have a three-penny admission, and children are required to have a guardian,” said the man. Malika fidgeted for a moment; this wasn’t going well. “Could I see the jester, please?” Malika asked. The man then pursed his lips, “Any performers you may see, once you have adequate payment and a parent, you may enter. We aren’t a charity service. Next, please.“ Malika stepped aside new plan forming in her conniving mind.
She tried doing it the nice way; time to do it her way. Breaking and entering seemed like the appropriate solution. Luckily, no one was monitoring the back door, so she was able to pick the lock open. She took the stairs to the left before realizing she had absolutely no idea where the mask would be located. This was a stupid idea. Footsteps echoed down the stairs, and to her horror, she realized they were getting louder. Panicked, she ran toward a door that read Marcus Lavenscy, wrenching it open to hide in. The room was a sitting room with sparse furniture. Malika bolted behind the couch. “Eh bien, quelle performance exaltante,” murmured a voice as she heard the door swinging open. Crap, he’s in here with her.
The man then got off the couch and turned his back to her as he paced around. The energy signature was unmissable; that man was the mask guy. The man had blonde hair, unlike the jester attire she had seen earlier. Could he be Marcus? This was Marcus’s room after. She doubted there would be another like her hiding in the rooms. If Marcus was the jester, why wouldn’t he announce himself to the crowd? That was strange to her; maybe he wanted to be mysterious to draw in the crowd? They did say Marcus was only performing once in the Rose Theater. Perhaps that would spoil the surprise.
It was in that moment that the mask noticed the scraggly child behind the couch. Malika was like a deer in the headlights as they continued to stare at one another. On a side note, she succeeded in her mission. She supposes this could have gone worse. “Hi,” Malika finally said. Malika stood up from behind the couch, and a couple more moments of silence awkwardly passed.
“Oh, are you a fan of mine?” the mask asked, it was currently grinning. The mask was wearing a mixture of orange leaves and a black collared suit. He wore a white cravat that looked stained by what looked like black ink. Closer up, she realized there was black goo crawling down his skin. Creepy, Malika thought. The black goo dripped from his body as he continued to speak. Ick, she thought as she observed the puddle form beneath his feet. That was a health code violation. Did OSHA even exist in this time period? Someone is going to trip and fall. They might even trip into a random time portal for all she knows. The mask then flicked her nose, Malika flinching at the contact, “Are you even paying attention? It's rude, you know,” the mask exclaimed, tone sounding more amused than anything else. Disgusting, she thought it was going to get all over the furniture if the mask wasn’t careful. It didn’t look appetizing at all.
Well, wasn’t this a conundrum? What was she supposed to say? Hello, mister, I broke into this theater because I can tell you’re not alive. So sorry, tally ho. There was only one option available to her: confuse, bewilder, and bemuse. “Oh, uncle, I have come to visit you,” Malika said, spreading her arms out, running to hug him. Ew, she thought. The mask must have been caught off guard as well because he almost toppled over. “Uncle?” the mask asked. “You know, your niece, Malika?“ She took a step away from the zombie, mask thing, holding his hand with a smile, trying not to grimace at the black ooze dripping down. “Uncle?!” the mask exclaimed. Malika did a half circle around him, pacing. “Oh, I just couldn’t wait to see you. But I must away, dear uncle. Mother is looking for me, I mustn’t dilly dally.” The mask was blocking the doorway, but he made no move to allow her forward. What she didn’t expect, though, was for him to go along with it.
“Oh, dearest niece, how long has it been. My memory is fuzzy, I must confess, but why niece have you chosen here as such a surprise?” the mask asked. Malika slowly backed away, inching her way toward the window. She wasn’t proud of it, but if she had to, she could escape through there. “It's been so long since the last time I’ve seen you, I just couldn’t wait!” Malika shouted, giving a twirl. No, it was probably a bad idea to escape through the window; it was broad daylight, and there would be too many witnesses. “If you excuse me, I must leave,” said Malika. A hand grasped her wrist. “But dear niece, why leave so soon. We’ve much to discuss,” said the mask.
Malika squirmed, trying to free her wrist from his hand. “I mean you no harm, I’m just curious. If you just stay and listen,” said the mask, releasing her hand. “Why did you choose my dressing room of all things?” the mask asked softly, tilting his head. “I got lost,” said Malika slowly. “So you chose to hide in there, interesting,” the mask commented. “Yes,” Milkia said softly. How much should she tell him, though? A good lie always had an inkling of truth sprinkled in. “I’ve always been a huge fan of your shows (she’d never seen his shows in her life), I just wanted to join your troupe (she did need a place to stay).” Malika looked down, trying to summon her tears. “My parents are dead (she never knew her parents), and I've no place to turn to,” she sobbed. Hiding her face in her hands. Had she uncovered her face, you would have seen a smile. “It is a cruel twist of fate to lose your parents at such a young age, said the mask. Hook, line, sinker.
”As awful as that is, I can't have just anyone join my troupe. What skills do you possess?” asked the mask, putting a hand on her shoulders. It would have been comforting, but the mask looked so creepy. “I’m a magician, last of my line,” spoke Malika. “Oh my, had I known I had a magician in my midst, I would have surely bent hand and knee for them. One so young as well,” he said, the mask clasped his hands together. “Alright, I will give you a test. Fail, well, it'll be back to the gutters with you,” commented the mask. “Okay, I’ll try my best,” uttered Malika. “Come along, little mage, we’ve a show to perform,” and with that, he grabbed her wrist again, dragging her from the room. Wait, she didn’t expect him to mean immediately.
The candlelight shone brightly on her as she was dragged onstage, the other performers pausing what they were doing. It looked to be a full house, as they would say, packed to the brim with people. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce my niece. She will be performing one last act tonight!” the mask yelled. The performers back away, making room for her. “The Magical Malika,” the mask announced. A beat of silence passed. Well, here goes nothing. Magic? Alright then, she’d show him magic. Wings sprouted from her back as the energy began to take shape. They formed the shape of butterfly wings, her favorite. She began to fly through the air, doing a loop-the-loop. She slowly flew back and forth, landing on one of the rafters for a moment before flying back down. Her worn clothes were covered in that green color. It seems her power had eaten through her clothes. It wouldn’t do to waste too much energy. She was rather hungry; maybe she’d eat the mask, she thought sourly. “Isn’t she wonderful?” the mask asked. “Encore, encore,” shouted the audience. She tried not to imagine the audience as chicken nuggets, but it was hard not to. She needed substance, and all those people here were so tempting; all their energy thrumming below their veins was tantalizing. All her power was constrained when the food source was right there.
She needed to get away from them. Swiftly, she ran behind the curtain. The audience murmured behind her. Malika found a stool to sit on, consumed by her thoughts, and began to leave deep gashes into the wood with her claws. If only she were on her Earth. She could stick her claws in the electric outlet and feed on the delectable energy.
This whole thing was a mistake. She should preserve her energy, or else the next person she meets is going to turn into an all-you-can-eat buffet. She began to gnaw on her fingers. This isn’t good at all. She heard a crackle of a furnace. Malika unlatched the hook holding the furnace’s door shut. Coal! Malika, without a second thought, stuck her hand into the pile of hot coals, absorbing the stored-up energy. It would do for now.
“Bravo, Malika,” uttered a voice behind her. Malika straightened up like a log, quickly shutting the furnace’s door. Hopefully, he didn't see that. “I believe you’ve earned your keep; the audience adored it,” drawled the mask. He then pulled out a blank sheet of parchment paper and, using the stool as a writing desk, began to write on the paper. “Now, let's discuss the terms and conditions of your contract,” said the mask looking at her. “Can you sing, dance, even?” He asked. “No,” said Malika. “We’ll work on that,“ said the mask. The mask sighed, “Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely, the long-lost niece of Marcus singing a duet.” He seemed more excited than she was. She could see the energy that welled up inside the mask. Delicious neurons firing up.
To her growing horror, she realized she wasn’t satiated with the coals; she was still hungry. The mask was powerful; if she touched him, all that energy could be hers. That could last her months. No, these are very bad thoughts she was having. He didn’t deserve to be eaten to her knowledge. She would not lose control, no matter how delectable it may be.
The mask was still writing stuff down. “How much will I get paid?” Malika asked. “Let's say five shillings a week, " he said, as he continued writing. How much coal could she buy with five shillings? The mask continued, “Of course, we’re a travelling troupe, so you’ll get free room and board.” He said, setting down the quill. He then turned to look at her. “We’ll need to get a tailor to make an outfit for you.” Please don’t be a jester, that would be humiliating after all she's been through tracking him down. With careful thinking, she considered her options.
On one hand, he looked creepy, and she was almost entirely sure he was possessing that man. Maybe he had been that jester, perhaps the man was dead already when he possessed him. Malika would like to give him the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t have enough information to conclude. On the other hand, there's no telling if she could get an opportunity like this again. If she wanted to do things the right way, as Percy put it, she would need to find out more information.
“Deal,” Malika muttered. He handed her the quill, and she signed her name. Malika wasn't entirely sure he didn't have ulterior motives. He hadn’t seen her form yet, but she had left signs of what she might be. Let's say he had seen her stick her hand in the furnace, paired with her magic trick, that led him to the conclusion that she wasn’t human. She didn’t know what he had in store for her, but whatever it was, she would be ready for it.