Towerld Level 0011: The Demonic Diva In the Purple Haze

By Doctor Deicide

The triple feature has just reached the climax. Mesmerizing music and cigar smoke dominate the space. Have thousands of spectators fallen asleep?

Hector_1304 barely notices a shadowy figure, standing alone in the shroud, and it shocks him.

“Who are you? WHO ARE YOU!!”

What is that malicious mien? Is this a reality, or just a dream?

Hector_1304 still moves on to complete the mission to rescue the female squad of the expedition. He has to part ways with the ladies he has met on the feminist floor. While he still cannot get over his habit of flirting, Wendy’s jealousy reminds him that polygamy is not a realistic option.

Just when Hector_1304 and his friends are close to the exit from the feminist floor, they encounter the wild cards. Who are going to participate in the stairway showdown, and who will prevail, against whom? Can they finally escape from the tight spot?

Does Hector_1304 have to team up with the rival to prevail?
When a reliable ally falls, the mission takes an unexpected turn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365385063

Book preview

Towerld Level 0011: The Demonic Diva In the Purple Haze

Towerld Level 0011: The Demonic Diva In the Purple Haze

Written by Doctor Deicide

Cover illustration by Polka D

Cover design by Tanya

Copyright © 2016 Doctor Deicide / The BBB: Breakthrough Bandwagon Books

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-365-38506-3

Part One

---01---

For a moment, I think that I cease to exist. Wait. I do exist, don’t I? I am thinking that I am existing, because I actually do exist. If I do exist, where do I exist? In what world? The world inside a world-sized tower, the name of which I have just forgotten for a moment.

Towerld!

I feel so murky in my mind that I am no longer sure of what I am. Perhaps, I have never been sure of what I am not so sure of the presence of. My mind is so lost in the darkness that I am as good as dead. Is it equivalent to inviting the concept of demise into my own presence?

My mind might be disintegrated. Then, my soul is still kept intact. (I do not even know the difference between ‘mind’ and ‘soul’.) For a reason that I do not know or I cannot explain, I can sense that the clear soul is anchoring my very unstable being within the insecure presence to the space of reality. My feet are being planted on the solid plane of reality (that the spatial planes constitute) once again. The sense of stability is a proof that I am alive.

However, I still feel dizzy. I have to wake up from the doldrums or coma or whatever, and shake this fuzzy fog out of my thoughts to understand what is actually occurring.

Then, the important question is: Who am I? Hector_1304! As soon as I am reminded of my identity, a chain reaction of memory recalls should start and I am freed from the lost state of my mind, right? Well, I guess that things are not supposed to go that easily.

---02---

Currently, I am lying on the floor, facing down. Let me get my face up.

It is, murky. I mean, it is not only my mind but also the surrounding environment that is hazy. What are the ingredients of this smoky air? Where is the smoke coming from?

It smells like, cigars. Cigars? Is it cigar smoke that is filling the space? Who are smoking cigars? If a large number of people smoke cigars at the same time, then that explains the current state of the air quality.

The spectators were smoking cigars and watching something on the central stage. I remember that. Now, I am slowly recalling so many things.

Duel. Duel! The duel, between whom and whom? Between me (Hector_1304) and Wendy, my master! Then, whatever has happened to the duel? What is the end result? Who is the winner? Who is the loser, if that means anything? My memory pertaining to a certain span of time gets fuzzy and unclear.

Something dominated my mind. Something stole my heart. Something snatched my soul. What is that ‘something’?

This is where I am reminded of the music.

Was it not a double feature? Was it a triple feature of a duel, a catfight, and a concert? A concert. Whose concert was it? Who else?

It was featuring none other than Mary Teana Blockheart, the Pluck Princess! Am I not the chief guard on a mission to protect the client, also known as the Pluck Princess? Who is the chief guard? My mind is so murky that I am not so sure of how hazy the thoughts are getting.

So, was the Pluck Princess the one who dominated the entire theater? She is the main-event article, and she was the main feature. Has it been intended to be that way from the beginning? Has it been planned and staged that way from the start?

Whatever the case may be, what I want to do is to find the Pluck Princess in the murky ocean of the cigar smoke, and ask her many questions. She will probably provide me with much information. First things, first. This is where I start the next move.

---03---

I am still at the center of the bowl-shaped theater, for that is where I was mesmerized by the hypnotic song while being entangled with the maneuver (ude-hishigi-ashi-gatame) by my postal master. Wendy is lying next to me, unconscious. She cannot resist the combination of the smoke (with apparent medicinal effects) and the music (apparently with the ability to react with the inhaled smoke to induce the state of coma).

I will take care of you later, my dear master. First, I am going to locate the Pluck Princess.

I look around, to observe the entire view of the arena space. I see thousands of spectators having fallen unconscious. Many of them have dropped the lit cigars on the concrete floors, steps, and seats. The materials for the seats, and the concrete surfaces are fire-retardant, so I do not have to worry about the fire triggering the sprinklers. Many dropped cigars are still producing so much smoke that I can barely see the uppermost rows of the seats. That is how limited the visibility is.

Is there not anyone who is still conscious and standing tall? If so, then she has to be the Pluck Princess. (Who else?)

---04---

Then, surely enough, I find a shadowy figure standing near the space between the stage and the front row of the seats. That is the backside of a woman. Around a beige long dress and a beige long-sleeved blouse, a deep-red sari is wrapped. Sari reminds me of you-know-who. (Who else?) That’s right. That was how she was dressed like, when she initiated the concert. (My eyes and mind were so riveted to the vividly colored sari, to the level that I failed to notice the long dress and the blouse underneath.) There are so few beautiful women in Towerld, to the level that I might as well designate them as endangered, or dangerous, species, if not extinct species. When that exotic beauty is dressed for the performance, I have to take advantage of the opportunity to savor and appreciate the splendor of the fashion. Otherwise, I am going to miss way too much.

She is holding in her right hand a sticklike object. Is it a flute? It is one of those jeweled flutes, forged by the drugged artist named Gideon. (Speaking of Gideon, how is he doing?) I guess that Gideon’s artistic ability has been augmented by drugs. There is no doubt in my mind that the identity of the shadowy figure standing in the smoky air is, none other than the Pluck Princess.

Turn around, Mary Teana. Turn around. Your back shot is one of the kind, and I want more. I would like to appreciate your frontal view and arguably the fairest face in the turf of the drug lord, and beyond. (The only competitor for the beauty is the slave lady named Ephemera. Wendy is the champion of the ‘cuteness’ category.)

---05---

I am still lying on the stage, face down. Then, I get my upper body up, raise the head, extend my right arm, and try to reach out for her back with my right hand.

M-Mary, Teana.

I can barely squeeze the voice out of my larynx. The aural propagation is so weak that it can barely be heard in the heavy weight of the atmosphere. Does it reach the one I want to talk to?

The shadowy figure turns around so much faster than I can expect, as if she is reacting to my calling out way before it comes out of my mouth. It is very unlike that diva, who is not quite famous for her athletic ability and agility.

The lighting for the theater is