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Great Sage, Equal to Heaven and Above Brockton [Worm/Chinese Myth] Sotapanna 1.09
🕑 Added 2024-12-25 15:59:20 +0000 UTCNeither sky cares, nor earth will hold,
By liquor's laugh, bold spirits unfold.
In drunken dreams, a cosmos wide,
Wake with worries cast aside.
Rare was the revelry for the minor guais who patrolled the mountain paths, their delights not granted but taken in human guise, thieving sustenance from unsuspecting townsfolk. The charade proved fleeting, for the villagers grew wise to their deceit, and the guais, oft caught mid-bite, were met with the town's rugged justice, deterring their mischief.
Among them was a wolf guai with a penchant for drink, who, on a day of indolence, lay beneath an ancient tree. Suddenly, an elder wolf, cloaked in feathers of a crane, appeared to him asking, "Why forsake your patrol for idleness?" The wolf guai sighed, "I long for drink, but the townsfolk see through me; I'm left to quench my thirst only in my dreams." The elder chuckled as he whispered a secret, "Seek the shrine. Conceal yourself behind the curtains, and the sacred spirits' liquor shall be yours to drink." Then, with a shift of form, he vanished.
Wavering in doubt, the wolf guai transformed and hurried to the town's shrine. There, veiled behind curtains, a sacred effigy stood, its origins unknown, the altar laden with delectable offerings and fine spirits. As advised,he nestled himself between the curtains, indulging in the liquor until his belches betrayed him to the gathering crowd in the shrine.
Trapped between the curtains, the wolf guai listened as a voice rang out, "The wine jar I offered is empty. Our tributes were received." A chorus of prayers erupted, beseeching favor from the Immortals.
From that day forth, folks from miles around flocked to the shrine, affording the demon endless drink. But as days passed, the once delightful treat turned bitter; and those prayers, be they piteous or greedy, weighed heavily upon him with helplessness.
One day, unable to endure the bitterness any longer, the wolf guai burst from behind the curtains, hoisting the jar and smashing it on the altar amidst the screams of onlookers. With a deafening crash, he suddenly awoke beneath the tree: no shrine, no incense, no crowd around. With a tired sigh, he took up his axe and set off to patrol the mountains once more.
-Wolf Stalwart, Lesser Yaoguai, Yaoguai Journals
-x-
Peizhi Luo thought that he could get used to his strange houseguest. That, despite the talking monkey-man barging into his life from out of nowhere, he could maintain some semblance of normalcy in his daily life. Yes, he knew he was hosting a cape, and yes, everyone knew they got into trouble one way or another, but he imagined something more along the lines of beating up gangsters or joining the PRT. And that it would happen far away from his shop where it wouldn’t get destroyed. He didn’t trust the supposed magic circle yet and had little desire to test it.
Sure, he got into a fight with Glory Girl - he had to clamp down on his lips every time he saw her on the news - but after the self-proclaimed Sun Wukong had agreed to lay low, he’d thought he’d reached a breakthrough. He still felt like walking on eggshells whenever he was around, but the monkey-man didn’t strike him as a bad sort.
Then his public thrashing of the ABB went viral and he felt his heart almost give out, which shouldn’t happen since he was barely 40! Still, Wukong promised not to draw any attention to his store, and realistically he knew he had no options when it came to stopping the monkey. Since then he was spotted around the Asian district, popping in and out of food stores and trying every conceivable snack, drink and junk food they had in stock. Peizhi almost asked if they were handouts or if Wukong actually paid for them, but he held his tongue. Besides, everyone on social media was making jokes at him and not freaking out, so it wasn’t that bad, right?
Looking back, Peizhi cursed his past self to the deepest hells for even thinking such naive thoughts.
“You fought LUNG!?”
The monkey-cape paused writing in the notepad, tilting his head. “Lung…yes, that was his name. He doesn’t even know how to pronounce what he imitates properly.”
The strangled animal in Peizhi’s throat crooned as the man slumped on the counter, his eyes rapidly twitching. “H-how-when-wh-WHAT!? HOW DID-” his eyes darted to the door to make sure it was closed. “How did that even happen!?”
Wukong hummed and lifted his chin, tapping it with the brush… that he made from his hair. Yes, as if that was the most glaring issue right now. “Well, I was busy munching on this delicious new dried fruit - a banana, what a peculiar name! - a kind vendor offered me when I heard this blustering wind blowing down the streets of this fair city, calling out my name. I swing over and see a half-naked man with pitiful shrimps and crabs threatening to immolate some poor townsfolk. Being the good-natured Buddhist that I am, I hopped over to see what was all the fuss about. He introduced himself and told a rather funny joke. Heh, I haven’t laughed that hard since that pig fell into a pool of courtesan spirits and got the beating of his life!” He mock-sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, the gods deprived this man of a sense of humor, so he proceeded to throw a tantrum like an angry child, so this Old Sun took him aside and gave him a good whipping. Then I returned, with a singed robe to show for my efforts, to your welcoming presence.”
…
…
…what the f-
What.
“You…whipped…Lung?” Peizhi croaked, unable to process the monkey’s words.
“Well, I threw in a few cuffs on the head for good measure, but I think it was sufficient enough to teach him not to go preying on poor innocent mortals.”
This was a fever dream, it had to be. Or maybe the leaves in his morning tea that went rotten because Peizhi’s brain short-circuited with every word coming out of his houseguest’s mouth. He desperately wanted to check his phone, to confirm or deny the monkey’s words…but a minute voice, likely from the decaying remnants of his fraying sanity, whispered pleas of mercy, begging him to avoid the outcome should he see the actual news.
It wasn’t possible. It went against every facet of his life!
“Peizhi-xiānshēng? Are you well? You seem to be doing a proper charade of a fish. Is this some strange new custom of Meiguo that I have yet to learn?”
It took him a minute, but Peizhi finally managed to unclog his throat and allow normal-sounding words to exit his lips.
“Ah…I…forgive me, Wukong, I was taken by surprise. No one’s ever been able to take down Lung, not since he came to Brockton Bay.”
Wukong hummed while twirling his small brush. “The mortals have told me in hushed whispers about his iron grip, but they were reluctant to say much else. Was he truly so formidable?”
Peizhi nodded and his voice took a graver tone. “We had gangs in this part of town before, but Lung came to power by beating and killing his way through them, and the rest he assimilated into the ABB. Triads, yakuza, Vietnamese - if they were Asian, he came after them and gave them an offer: join or die. Everyone in the district had to pay for ‘protection’, but Lung made it organized. When his thugs came, you paid, one way or another.” The shopkeeper grimaced as he recalled the few times he was privy to one of the ABB’s more violent ‘collections’. “But if that wasn’t enough, he goes after the kids. Once they’re over 13, they get press-ganged into service. Baba’s old neighbors had a grandkid, and one day his friends almost caved his face in when he refused to join. They had enough money to leave Brockton, but most aren’t that lucky.”
“His men fear no repercussions, so they share his brutality. Not unexpected,” Wukong commented, his rasp lowering into a growl at the last words. “And the…heroes…couldn’t stop him?”
“They tried at first, but he was just too strong. Every time, he left them with molten flesh and severed limbs, not to mention the damage he left wherever he rampaged. He even killed a couple of heroes, just to prove he wasn’t kidding around. He mounted one of their heads in the middle of the street.” He’d almost thrown up when he saw the footage, along with half the people in the bar. The other half got so drunk they passed out and stayed the night. “He hasn’t been that brutal these past few years, but make no mistake - he didn’t and wouldn’t hesitate to make anyone into an example.”
Another hum escaped Wukong’s lips. He still retained that curious look, but Peizhi noticed the barely-imperceptible steel that entered his gaze. “I suppose, with such infamy and brutality backed up by his abilities, it would make sense for you to fear him. Still, he shan’t be bothering you for a while now.”
Peizhi idly nodded, his brain not in sync with movements. In some ways, he still didn’t believe him. “Where is he now?”
“Eh, I gave once last chance to prove he was a true long. Even if he could control fire, all long were masters of navigating waters. The only thing left is to wait and see if he passed the test.” The monkey’s forehead scrunched up. “He did strike me as a tenacious fellow, so it wouldn’t be a decisive blow…bah, no matter!” He waved dismissively. “I know his type; his pride will take a blow greater than any wound I inflicted. The Rhinoceros King remained a husk of his former boastful self after I disarmed him and thrashed him around by his nose. Come to think of it, I have only seen him once since that time.”
As Peizhi tried to piece together what exactly Wukong did to Lung, his jaw chewing on air, the last couple of sentences caught his attention. “The…Rhinoceros King?” he asked, memories unbidden of his childhood floating to the surface. In the stories, Sun Wukong fought many foes and while he didn’t remember all of them - he didn’t think anyone he knew did - there were some notable ones. “The demon who stole your weapons?”
Wukong’s eyes widened and his lips curled upwards, revealing his fangs. “Ah, you’ve heard of that adventure? Yes, he was a troublesome one; required a touch of finesse that I lacked in my youth. Who regaled you with the tale? No doubt your father or the town elders spoke of my adventures to their youths! Even when I visited the Tang court, my adventures were already on every noble and beggar’s lips!” A raspy yet hearty laugh escaped Wukong’s throat, while Peizhi hesitantly smiled. Wukong nailed it pretty much on the head. Storytime in the parks and friends’ houses was one of the few good memories he had of Brockton, and Journey to the West, with all of Wukong’s misadventures, was a favorite. Even now, the memory remained vivid; the scents of chicken, fresh bao, pho and gyoza, the warm light of the red lanterns and the excited chatters of his friends…
Heh, the way his houseguest talked about it…it almost made one believe he was the actual Sun Wukong. But that was impossible.
Tang Sanzang, or Xuanzang, might have been real, but Wukong, Zhu Bajie, the Demon Kings and all the other fantastical figures?
Characters in a good story, nothing more.
“So…you’re saying Lung will come back?”
“He didn’t seem like the type to go down easily but if he does crawl his way back here, I will ensure his punishment is more…lasting.” A growl laced the word. “He shan’t trouble anyone in this city again, you have my word as the Monkey King of Flower-Fruit Mountain.”
The shopkeeper nodded, despite his returned nervousness. Lung was relentless, and if he did shake off whatever Wukong did to him, it wasn’t gonna be pretty. “There’s still Oni Lee - he can still rally the rest of the gang behind him.”
“If the false yaksha knows what’s good for him, he will slink back into whatever pit he came from, lest he suffer the fate of his master.”
Peizhi blinked at the casual reply and was about to comment on how Oni Lee would be unlikely to do that…but in the end, he sighed and picked himself up. He had a feeling trying to stop the monkey from getting into trouble was like asking the E88 to stop being Nazis.
“If you say so. What are you planning to do now?”
Wukong chewed the end of his brush while scratching his furry cheek with a knuckle, mulling over his question. “The matter I discovered during my fight with the false lóng merits direct investigation. I should have started earlier, but more urgent affairs occupied my notice.” Why did Peizhi have a feeling those ‘urgent affairs’ involve giving food vendors heart attacks? “I admit, I have little idea on where to start, but further exploration of this city will suffice for now.”
Further exploration of the city…which meant a chance to run into a hero or a gang…which meant more fights…
“Uh, do you need any help with your…investigation?” the shopkeeper hurriedly asked, scratching his coat. Wukong blinked at the question and chuckled.
“Ah, I would not wish to burden you further, Peizhi-xiānshēng. You have already been a most gracious host to this Old Sun, and you asked me to avoid drawing attention to you and your humble shop. Besides, this is a matter that only I am equipped to deal with.”
Peizhi reluctantly nodded. Even so, he still felt like he had to add something. “Just…whatever it is you’re investigating, could you try not to flip the city upside-down looking for it?”
Wukong cackled and Peizhi felt both trepidation and amusement at the same time. Well, he tried.
“I shall be as delicate as the butterfly, my host, but when troubled times loom, the foundation of such promises are as fragile as dirt.” He tucked away the notepad and brush and clapped. “So, is there food nearby? I’m afraid I have grown rather peckish.”
-x-
A new day had dawned, the sun rose and the birds chirped with joy.
Wukong slurped his noodles and resisted a giggle as the exquisite broth ran down his throat. “Once more, my friend, your cooking exceeds the kitchens of emperors! If my monkeys could drink this fine soup every morning, no soldier of heaven would ever match them, for they would fight with fire that only a full stomach and a hearty meal could stoke!”
The poor man retreated into his woolen jacket like a turtle as he blushed like a maid. “It-it’s nothing special, I’m telling you. I know lots of people who cook better than I do, and they can make way more than just some soup and stir-fry.”
“Pride may be one of the five poisons, but knowing your accomplishments only strengthens your resolve. Better cooks labor in the kitchens of the heavens, but I would take this dish over a feast on the Jade Emperor’s table. Were my two previous servings not enough proof?”
If the man blushed any harder, he would resemble a ripened peach. In his infinite mercy, Wukong chuckled and put down his bowl. “Now, while this Old Sun would greatly desire to further partake in your company, I must be off.” He rose from his chair and opened the window. “I do not expect to be gone all day, so I shall return by supper. Pleasantries and good fortune to you and your shop!”
With those words, Wukong hopped out the window and bound through the air until he landed on a rooftop. Once his feet touched the ground, he whipped out his notepad and brush.
‘Today’s my first day of properly investigating the apparitions that haunt this city of Brockton Bay, unseen and unnoticed by all but me.’ He looked at his notes and chewed his lip. ‘From what I have witnessed so far, they are tethered to this realm through some form of possession. This means if I wish to understand their nature, I must observe them, and to observe them, I must spy on the so-called heroes. Yes…yes, that would be the correct course of action.’
With that thought set, Wukong transformed into a swallow and flew off. The world flashed gold and to the west, he saw not one, but two apparitions floating side by side. With a beat of his wings, he soon found himself perched on a leafless branch and staring at two oddly-garbed women. They were staring down at a group of thugs, strewn on the road, next to a ruined shop.
“Really, you thought robbing a store in broad daylight would be a good idea?” the younger one asked and shook her golden-haired head, her face hidden behind a green helmet. “New low guys, new low.”
“Piss off, Ward!”
The girl tilted her head and stomped her feet, and in an instant the ground sunk below the thugs and they dropped inside, yelling profanities.
Wukong hummed and looked at the girl’s apparition, formless and surrounded by crystalline fragments. The moment she used her power, the spirit seemed to collapse in on itself and expand back to its original size. It was rather jarring, he had to admit, especially when the spirits apparently had no permanent form. More than that…the surrounding buildings also stretched, though in reality, no such thing had occurred.
“Vista,” chided the older woman. In utter contrast, she wore dark green clothes with many pockets and her mouth and nose were obscured by a red and white scarf. A sash bearing the same colors and a cluster of stars on a blue field was tied around her waist.
The girl mumbled under her breath and tapped her feet a second time, causing the ground to swell back up and lift the tied-up thugs. Another round of profanities later and the older woman stared down at them before pressing a finger to her ear.
“Miss Militia here, there’s been an attempted robbery on Grayson Street. Vista and I intercepted successfully.” She paused, then nodded. “Roger, we’ll wait for them.”
The defeated ruffians bemoaned their misfortune, and Wukong giggled internally. ‘Ah, now that is a sight that brings warmth to this Old Sun. Crime bears bitter fruit my friends, and now you shall fully savor its taste!’
Miss Militia - what was it with these strange titles? - looked over the store before her eyes narrowed at an alley to her right. She took a step forward and called out: “In the alley! Come out with your hands up!”
Another thug dashed out of the alley and away from her like a man possessed. Before Wukong could blink, the woman’s apparition sprouted limbs, and a greenish energy formed around her hands, morphing into a long black device. Hmm, some of the ruffians had such things on their person before I knocked them into the dust, but what could they possibly be?’
She took aim and -
Wukong jumped from his branch and cheeped in surprise as the cracking sound rang through his little skull. What fiendish contraption was that!?
Even through his ringing ears, a thud drew his attention, and saw the thug clutching his knee in visible agony.
“FUCK WAS THAT YOU BITCH!? YOU ALMOST KILLED ME!”
“Don’t be dramatic, it’s just rubber,” she replied, pulling the man’s hands behind his band and tying them together with a queer white cord. As she pressed a finger to her ear once more, Wukong gazed with rapt attention at the weapon - for what else could it be? - in her hand.
‘What manner of innovation is this? Something hit his knee…and it came from that weapon. What could cause it to travel so fast that I couldn’t see it? Granted, I wasn’t paying much attention…’ He shook his head. ‘Is this the weapon common to these lands?’
The sound was akin to thunder, and he remembered spotting a flash of smoke from the end of the weapon. It reminded him of back when he was welcomed in Heaven, when he visited old sage Laozi and watched his alchemical experiments. Many of them involved burning and exploding materials, and those little spectacles bore great resemblance to what he’d just seen and heard. And during a stay in some alchemist’s hut on the Journey, their host had babbled about some reactions he’d caused when purifying the Four Yellow Drugs, even demonstrating some. The pig of course, in his stupidity, had leaned too close to the alchemist’s furnace and burned his eyebrows, and they all had a good laugh. He might have seen more should he have stayed in the Court’s good graces, but alas, eating the old sage’s supply of golden pills noticeably soured their relationship.
‘Hmm…have they advanced their alchemy to such a point? I must ask Peizhi-xiānshēng about this…’ He mulled over it some more before shaking his head. ‘Focus, Wukong! Strange mortal weapons can come later!’
He returned his stare to the woman’s apparition, whose limbs now sported strange grooves running along them, and a flame of jade burned in each of its hundred palms. When the woman lowered her weapon, the fire dimmed, but the arms remained as they were, holding them aloft as though offering an eldritch prayer.
‘A bodhisattva without a face…first Glory Girl, and now this. Is this merely what the Golden Eyes show me? Or is there a deeper link here? And the power the girl wields…I’d say an Earth-warping technique if I’d ever seen one. The space around her though…maybe something more.’
Vista sighed and the woman turned her head. “What’s wrong?”
“It was Kid Win, he’s with Armsmaster right now. They busted more ABB goons trying to steal a car.” She crossed her arms and shrugged, causing the green cape hanging over her shoulders to bounce. “This is the sixth arrest in the past day, these guys are running wild.”
“Lung kept them together. Oni Lee’s still MIA, and until he comes back, the ABB is leaderless,” replied Miss Militia. “BBPD’s been working around the clock trying to bust their drug dens while fighting off the Empire thugs, and then capes are thrown in the pot. Assault had to fight Stormtiger not a few hours ago. Until we can coordinate our forces, we’re running damage control.”
“Where is Lung anyway? Didn’t they track him to the docks?”
The woman side-eyed the tied-up bandits and stepped away. Wukong flew over to a nearby crevice on a wall and perched there.
“The salvage crew didn’t spot him,” she replied softly, far too quiet for the thugs to hear her - but not the sharp-eared Wukong. “We’re combing the shoreline to see if he swam somewhere nearby.”
The little girl grimaced. “Great. So we’ve gotta shut the ABB down before their capes come back. That’s gonna be annoying.” She then perked up. “Wait, what about that new cape who called him out? You know, the monkey-man? What’re the chances he took him out?”
Her…instructor? Teacher? Gave another glance, this time in every direction. “We’ll debrief you all when we're back at the Rig. If we do run into him, you know what to do?”
“Yeah, stay calm, try and talk to him, and you give him the pitch, Armsmaster made us say it five times yesterday ‘till we got the point. He wouldn’t even let Stalker leave until she did it.”
Flashes of red and blue shone against the buildings where the road turned. A moment later, black-and-white cars drove by and stopped before the heroines. Men wearing blue uniforms and flat caps climbed out of the cars and after talking to them, gathered the ruffians and loaded them into one of the metal chariots. Vista raised her arms and the rubble began clearing away from the collapsed store, parting like a wave of earth. Residents streamed out of the neighboring houses and were directed to the side of the street by Miss Militia, answering their panicked queries calmly.
When the rubble was cleared and the heroines began questioning the store’s owners, Wukong decided he had seen enough from them. With a beat of his wings, he took off with none the wiser. ‘So, the heroes are looking for this Old Sun are they? Hmm, perhaps I’ll indulge their desire for conversation over tea sometime, but not today.’
And so the Monkey King flew around the city, spying on the mysterious phantasms and the mortals ‘blessed’ by them.
A bearded man, wearing blue armor and a halberd that could change size, much like Wukong’s own staff; his spirit, shimmering blue and whose fragments spun around its body like the great rings of planets, held great spiked chakrams of steel that rotated in place and contrasted inwards and outwards.
At his side was a younger lad, his red armor worn and scratched unlike his companion; behind him the apparition grasped a gargantuan cube and took it apart piece by piece, only to rearrange it in a new shape, long and narrow with a hole at the end, like Miss Militia’s loud weapon.
Further southwest, a pair stood side by side and addressed a crowd holding phones and strange fuzz-covered devices. The red-masked man smiled and waved jovially at them and answered questions, sporting a calmness that utterly contrasted his apparition; spinning, vibrating, and surrounding the air with afterimages. At times, they appeared to engulf the city itself with their size and frequency.
The costume the woman next to him wore was…bizarre, to say the least. For what reason did she need those blue lines? They were neither elegant nor colorful, as he had seen on many a robe, including his master’s kasaya. Thankfully, her phantasm looked a great deal more intriguing, surrounded by storm clouds and crackling lightning bolts. Only…there was something off about it. Unlike the other apparitions, there was something…off about this one. Where the others housed an ever-present light that shone incandescently, this one’s light appeared…tarnished, akin to a flickering candle, burning through the last threads of its wick.
Yet another puzzle.
Watching their apparitions from afar, he observed them. When they finally finished talking to the various people, Wukong decided it was ample time to stop and gather his thoughts. After grabbing an apple from a nearby fruit stand - much to the outrage of its owner - Wukong flew high to a distant roof and transformed back.
‘From what those two demonstrated, the powers and apparitions are tied even further than I anticipated.’ He thought as he munched on the fruit. ‘The power does not stem from any path they develop but is specifically linked with the apparition. Some things such as strength and endurance are repeated, but there is a more individualistic aspect to these apparitions, and the heroes reflect that.’
Staring at the street below him, he watched the people milling about their daily lives. Above their heads floated the golden wisps, strings that flickered like ephemeral fireflies. A father pulled his son by the arm, and the wisp above the boy's head flickered as the father squeezed.
‘To react to negativity like this…nothing good can come out of it. Any spirit that thrives on such emotions is never so benevolent. But assuming these wisps are connected to the greater apparitions, what exactly is the bridge they must cross? Are they drones or chrysalises?’
Wukong cheeped with frustration, or as much frustration a swallow can display, and ruffled his feathers. ‘No, I need more information than this. This time the wisps must have my attention, but there are a great many of them in the city. Perhaps it’s time to pull out the old hairs for a little -’
Oh. Hold on.
He could survey the wisps of utter strangers and analyze from there.
‘Or…I could observe the one wisp that actually caught my attention. Oh, Old Sun, your genius boggles my mind!’
Giggling to himself and lauding his genius, Wukong changed into a swallow again and headed further west, into the dirty and worn districts, away from the glass spires. Paying no mind to anything else, he kept flying until he reached a familiar house. Landing on its porch, he perched silently and stared at the worn and dirty street.
The sun had passed its winter noon mark, and Wukong did little but observe the road, occasionally preening his feathers. A few mortals passed him by, but they were nothing of note, even if one of them had a wisp.
‘Hmm, I wonder if I should grab another fruit…that vendor had some juicy melon slices in little boxes…and there were those red fruits right next to the cucumbers…tomatoes? What a funny name. But if they are fruits, why were they placed next to a vegetable?’
Footsteps drew him from his daydreams of fruits and a reedy figure came from down the street. If a swallow could do it, his grin would resemble the waning moon.
‘Hello there, xiǎochánnǚ. What a surprise to see in this dreary neighborhood.’
She appeared the same since he last saw her; the overcoat was different, but her posture, her gangly frame, and the weariness in her eyes remained unchanged, and so did her wisp. No trace of that vexing insect shape appeared in that ever-shifting strand of light, but the flashes of light it emitted were brighter.
Walking up to the porch, the waif passed him by with nary a glance. That wouldn’t do.
Gathering a touch of air in his little lungs, Wukong cheeped sharply. At once, the girl turned to him and blinked from behind her glasses. Hand in her pocket, she stared at him with genuine befuddlement, as though she’d never seen a swallow on her porch before.
Her head started to turn away, and Wukong chirped again. Freezing briefly, she looked at the Monkey King again. To further grab her attention, he cheeped for a third time and made a show of hopping on the wooden rail.
“Uh…” the girl bit her lips, her gaping eyes darting between the door and himself until her brow creased. “Hi?”
Wukong tilted his beaked head at her, eager to see her reaction. Finally, the girl’s shoulders slumped as an incredulous laugh escaped her. “Great, now you’ve gone off the deep end, Taylor. First a sparrow, next thing you know you’ll be talking to the bugs under your floor!”
Taylor…so that was her name.
Savagely reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a key and jammed it into the lock, opening the door. Flying behind her, Wukong went through and into her living space. It reminded him of his hosts’ quarters, with the table in the middle and the small kitchen in the corner, even a white icebox that could keep food fresh.
“Wha-hey!” she yelled as he circled the table before perching on top of a chair. The girl - Taylor, he reminded himself - met his eyes with a somewhat baffled look. Then, she huffed and shook her head, muttering under her breath. “What am I doing?”
Throwing her bag on the floor, Taylor walked to the little kitchen. After frowning at a little note stuck on the icebox’s door, she searched inside a cupboard and pulled out a bag. “I don’t have any seeds, but this can work.”
Wukong chirped at the white slice she held and tore apart in her hands before placing it on the table. Approaching it, he took in its scent. ‘I’ve seen this in the stores and Peizhi-xiānshēng’s cupboard. Grain, yeast, a hint of sugar…reminds me of those flat pastries from India.’ He pecked the scrap and gobbled a morsel. ‘Other than the unneeded presence of sugar, it’s a bit dry but otherwise palatable. Kāidòng!’
As he kept pecking away at the treat, Wukong felt Taylor watch him while eating the rest of the slice.
“Must be nice, being a bird. If you feel life’s shitty, you can fly away and never look back.”
While surprised by her sudden speech, Wukong couldn’t help but agree with her. To soar through the clouds with neither worry nor care, with only the wind caressing your body, was the greatest sensation any being, mortal or immortal, could experience. Pure freedom coursing through your body, greater than any pill. There was a reason his current form was one of his favorites.
“I wonder how the heroes feel, like Alexandria,” she continued, lifting her head to the worn ceiling. “Most people would kill to fly like her.”
Alexandria? From the tinge of admiration in her voice, she must be quite the prominent one. Was she like Glory Girl?
“But then,” she chuckled and smiled bitterly. “Life grabs you by the legs and drags you down. You find yourself back on the ground and your face in the mud, just so life can remind you how shitty it is.”
The wisp glowed brightly above the girl’s cloud of misery, and the Monkey King frowned. ‘Is it merely devouring her negativity or also generating it? Regardless, this does not bode well. Either case, I’ve seen the grasp of misery on people long enough to know it has quite the grip on her.’
When he had finished the last of his treat, Taylor stood up with a huff. “Welp, it’s been fun, but I’ve gotta go shopping. Dad’ll be coming late and there’s nothing in the fridge.”
She rolled her shoulders and headed for the door. Wukong flitted from the table and onto her messy head of hair, tangling the strands between his claws. ‘Such unkemptness! A good bit of grooming would do marvels for her look.’
Dodging the hand coming toward him, he took off out the door, ignoring her yells of protest. Out of the corner of his eye, he inwardly grinned at her pointed glare, which quickly morphed into surprise once she felt her scalp. Landing on the high reaches of the nearby tree, he caught her whispered words.
“Did it just…” she paused and shook her head. “Get a grip, Taylor.”
Wukong puffed his chest. ‘All monkeys and birds are superb groomers, xiǎochánnǚ. How else do you think fleas never stay long in our fur and feathers?’
Locking the door behind her and heading to the street, Wukong followed her from afar. Above her head, the wisp remained as it was, though the light kept pulsating. Not with the same intensity during her little speech, but present all the same. She kept walking and turning until she came to a store and shopped there for a few minutes. To pass the time, Wukong went back to observing the street. It was nothing remarkable, maybe wider than others in the neighborhood, and the odd car or group of people passed by. One group that lingered by, glaring at something or other looked like monks - at least head-wise. No self-respecting monk would dress like…that!
When she was finished, Taylor walked out holding a white bag, stuffed with goods. The walk back would’ve been uneventful…
…but the paths of karma were as mysterious as they were absolute, and at times they were laden with chaos.
A shout came, then more.
Thunder cracked a second time that day. Two groups of youths began duking it out on the street, fists flying and weapons cracking. Blood was soon drawn and that infernal thunder rang through the air a third time before the weapon was bludgeoned away from its grabby hand. What scant mortals there remained fled the scene, as more ruffians, yelling war cries and obscenities, joined the fray.
As for Taylor? She grew rooted to the earth, almost dead to the world, were it not for the rapid beating of her heart, which to Wukong sounded like a raging drum.
One of the thugs got struck by a club and fell on his back, bracing against the blow. The jeers and hollers of his ‘comrades’ and enemies mixed with raining blows on flesh. Fortunately, it was then that the girl finally gathered some nerve and ran from the scene while clutching her bags.
Just as she entered the crossroads, two thugs ran past her and sent her sprawling, along with her bags and all their contents. She tried to get up, be it to run or gather what she lost, when a horn blared and a mass of steel came speeding towards her, unable to stop. Her eyes widened as it drew closer and closer -
Wait.
There it was.
Legs, wings, gold.
‘This won’t do at all.’
Steel crashed and glass shattered…but not a single drop of blood was spilled.
For there, with his staff lodged in the black rock and the car utterly broken against it, was the Monkey King.
The noise immediately drew the thugs' attention. While the bald ones looked confused, the familiar ones appeared to have stumbled upon the walking corpses of their ancestors.
“Salutations, ruffians!” Wukong called with a wave. “I know you are all eager to shed blood amongst each other, but would you kindly leave? Unfortunate mortals are quite disturbed by your little tussle over there.”
A bald one poked his friend in the ribs. “Hey, wasn’t this guy on the news?” he whispered.
“Yeah, I think he was with the slants.”
“Fuck, we can’t fight a cape right now! Where did Hookwolf go!?”
In contrast to their frantic whispers, the other group went pale as Peizhi-xiānshēng’s sheets. A gangly boy raised a shaking finger and pointed at him. “Y-y-you-you’re-”
“Yes, it is I! I know, I know; it is natural to be speechless before this Old Sun, so I shan’t fault you on that.” Wukong waved them as if chiding a gaggle of simple-minded children. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you lot the false lóng’s crab soldiers? Haven’t you learned your lesson when I fed your leader his dish of well-earned humiliation?”
The bald thugs seemed to possess some modicum of intellect because a tattooed one’s eyes widened and his shoulders tensed. “Shit. Guys. I think it’s him. Fuck the slants, we need to book it, like, now.”
His comrades look back and forth between him and Wukong, fear and uncertainty written all over their brutish frames. Sighing, Wukong pulled his staff from the ground and away from the car - the owner had wisely elected to run off while they were chatting - and took a step forward, causing all of them to flinch.
“It’s good to see some of you have preservation instincts; those are rare amongst your breed. Now then, I’m in the mood for a morning exercise…” He twirled his staff around and pointed it at them. “So unless you are willing to volunteer, I suggest you take whatever grievances you have away from the poor mortal folk of this town.
Do you have any misgivings with my suggestion?”
Rodents came to Wukong’s mind, for the bandits made spectacular impressions of those troublesome pests. At that moment, they put aside their differences and scurried away with fire on their heels; all but one, who held the thunder-weapon in his hand, utterly shaking and pale.
“Ah, I knew you were a brave sort!” He tapped the staff against the ground, leaving a tiny but noticeable crater. “Shall we?”
Squealing like a newborn pig, the youth spun around and ran. A pout overcame Wukong’s face as he threw his staff at the retreating thug. In a flash of light, the staff grew and struck his head, causing him to collapse. With a wiggle of his finger, the staff snapped back into his palm.
“Well, that was a nice stretch. Barely had any nerve that one, he should try breathing deeply if he ever gets the chance.” Ignoring the groan of the thug, Wukong dusted himself off and turned to the girl he’d saved, who lay as before, panting. The mask of shock she bore was so comical he held back a guffaw. ‘She does resemble a crouched cicada from here.’
“Apologies for the unpleasantness, little one. I’m sure that must have been a harrowing experience.” He crouched down while leaning on his staff, and offered her a hand. “My name is Sun Wukong, and I noticed you were in trouble.
It might be silly of me to ask this, but are you alright?”
Comments
Benoit Perreault
Banger
Lindsey Brown
Oh Wukong... NEVER change you Silly Monke!
