48. Darcy Dunnit

“You don’t think you’ll actually take the title back, do you, Red?”

When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell. 

Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may. 

After all...I can't fix stupid.

Previously: The Steel & Stone team has finished outfitting their S.L.A.G.s for combat, adding extra armor, hidden power supplies, and salvaged weapons to Wendell’s suit. With the Trench Wars right around the corner, Alhannah pushes the team to make a splash—starting with a public appearance at GAH, the hottest nightclub in the city.

---

There is always someone bigger, stronger, faster, better looking and more talented. It’s a painful fact, but a fact nonetheless. Just keep in mind that you might be holding the short end of the stick.

The beat shook the ground with every step I took.

Digital blips and scratches cut the air as thousands of bodies bounced and gyrated together like a single living creature. GAH was…otherworldly. It looked like a spaceship—glass, mirrors, black metal and bright lights—but the crowd was all gnome.

The only surfaces I could actually see were the ones hit by small blue spotlights overhead—hundreds of them, shining straight down onto heads moving to the music. Alhannah tugged me forward into the chaos.

Trailing red lights flowed down both sides of the ramp that led to the dance floor. I hesitated and reached out for a railing that didn’t exist—and accidentally grabbed someone’s arm.

“Sorry!” I stammered. “I’m so sorry—didn’t see you there!”

She batted glowing orange eyelids at me. “Anytime, handsome.”

Alhannah yanked me forward before I could say anything else.

The song shifted, rising in tempo. A group of girls screamed and waved their arms, shaking their hips to the new beat. I blinked. The dance floor wasn’t just circular—it had levels. Smaller concentric rings rotated with the music. Red lights flashed, then blue. Then I looked up.

Whoa.

A massive metal flower was unfolding above the crowd—slowly blossoming across the ceiling like a mechanical lotus. Hundreds of tiny lights covered the petals. When the flower reached its full bloom, the tips turned outward, revealing—

“Balconies?” I murmured, stunned.

Two full tiers of them, tucked into the dark, now lit by the petals. The crowd went wild. I jumped up and down, trying to see what was happening. Alhannah tugged on my sleeve.

“ARE YOU READY TO PAR-TAY?” the DJ screamed over the sound system.

The crowd roared.

“THEN LET’S DO THIS THANG!”

Every single bulb in the club exploded in a synchronized flash.

“GAH!” I yelped, covering my eyes. Everyone else just cheered.

“Close your eyes,” Alhannah leaned in and shouted, “Count to twenty and open them again.”

The beat thumped harder—buzzing synths echoing off the walls. I peeked through my fingers just in time to see a platform rising from the center of the dance floor. Towering. Flashing. Lights wrapped around it, pulsing in rhythm to the music.

On top was a fat gnome with painted skin and a glowing orange afro the size of a basketball. He bounced and twisted in time with the beat as the platform kept rising.

“This place is insane,” I muttered, trying not to trip.

We made our way around the edge of the floor, weaving through a sea of bouncing bodies. I caught myself thinking this must be what Earth raves looked like. Shamas and Dax waited for us at a small corner table. The beat had lowered just enough that we could sort of talk.

“He’s here,” Shamas said.

“Who’s here?” Dax asked.

But Alhannah didn’t answer. She just looked toward the DJ—then smiled like a cat in the cream.

“You ready?” she asked.

Shamas nodded and disappeared into the crowd.

“What are you two up to?” Dax growled.

“I picked this place not just for the music,” she said, sliding closer to him, “but because one of the regulars is here. I figured—why not get the competition started early?”

Dax blinked. “What kind of—”

A waitress showed up with a tray of drinks.

“We didn’t order anything,” Alhannah said, eyes narrowing.

The waitress smiled and pointed across the bar—three flawless gnomish girls with porcelain skin and blazing blue eyes waved at me.

I gulped.

Me.

“They’re for him,” the waitress added, nodding my direction.

Dax leaned back, stunned. “What?”

“They’d like to know, sir,” she added—looking right at me this time, “if you’d be willing to leave your date for a few dances.”

Alhannah burst out laughing.

Dax frowned. “Wait—does that mean I don’t get one?”

I tugged at my tie nervously. “What should I do?” I leaned toward Alhannah and whispered, “I’m not even a gnome.”

She laughed harder. “You’ll be fine. If you like to dance, then go dance. Have some fun. There’s nothing to worry about. Not here. Not tonight.”

I hesitated. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she grinned—and winked.

That was all I needed.

I took off for the dance floor. The girls squealed, grabbed my hands, and pulled me into their little circle of glitter and chaos. They danced around me like I was some sort of celebrity. One of them tugged on my jacket while another twirled. I caught myself bouncing to the beat, laughing—

And from the table behind me, I Dax yelled, “Well ya ain’t gonna need these,” and slid all three drinks in front of himself.

“LADIES AND GENTLEGNOMES,” the DJ boomed, “WE HAVE TRENCH PILOTS IN DA HOUSE!”

The crowd exploded into cheers. Gnomes squealed, spun in place, and waved their drinks in the air. Some of the women started looking around frantically as the music dropped low and the lights dimmed.

“FROM STEEL AND STONE WE HAVE BANSHEE!”

A spotlight hit Alhannah. She grinned like a rockstar and waved.

“TURNPIKE!”

A second spotlight hit Dax. Unfortunately, he’d just taken a swig of his third drink and sputtered blue fizz all over the table, trying to smile.

“AND GNOLAUM!”

The last light hit me.

I froze in place as the beam landed right on top of me and my three gnome dance partners. I glanced up at the halo of light above my head and then down at the girls circling around me like bodyguards. They knew who I was now. That spotlight changed everything.

“BUT THAT AIN’T ALL FOLKS!” the DJ roared. “WE GOTS US A HIP HOP CAT ABOVE ‘EM ALL…OHHHH YEAH—THE ONE, THE ONLY, ALPHA FIGHTER!!”

Floodlights exploded overhead, shining down from the second floor balcony.

There he was.

Darcy Dunnit.

The Grand Champion himself. Slick black hair, perfect sideburns, a pencil mustache, and the confidence of a gnome who knew he owned the room. Two beautiful females sat on either side of him. Six bodyguards stood nearby in mirrored sunglasses, motionless.

“DARCY! DARCY! DARCY!” the crowd chanted.

I moved closer to Alhannah. She was grinning like she’d just eaten the last chocolate truffle in a box meant for someone else.

“You brought us here for him?” Dax choked. “What are we gonna do, dance with him?”

“Naw,” Alhannah said, grinning wider. “I just want to say hello.”

Shamas appeared behind her, calm and casual, as always. “There you go, Red. You got his attention.”

Sure enough, Darcy was staring right at us.

The lights dimmed and the music picked up again, the club erupting in cheers.

“What now?” Dax asked. “Send him a drink?”

Alhannah just shook her head. “We wait.”

Shamas tapped her on the shoulder, then nudged Dax with his elbow. “For that.”

Two huge thugs appeared out of nowhere, pushing aside my dance partners and grabbing me by the arms.

“Hey!” I yelped, “Get off me!”

“Mr. Darcy wants to see you,” one of them grunted, squeezing my bicep way too hard.

“What if I don’t want to see him?” I squeaked.

“I thought all pilots were tough guys?” the other one sneered. They both laughed.

“Oh, not all of us are,” Dax growled—and suddenly he was right beside me, cracking his knuckles.

Gnomes started clearing the dance floor. The music faded just enough to hear muttering voices. Tension prickled the air like static. The bigger thug laughed, pointing at Dax’s bare feet. “Look at this one—he doesn’t even wear shoes!”

Alhannah stepped up beside him, her voice like silk with a hint of razor blade. “All the better to kick you with,” she said.

Then to Dax, she said, “Remember—make it last.”

Suddenly I was shoved out of the way as Dax jumped into the air and kicked one of the thugs.

…square in the chin.

“UNGH!” the guy grunted, flopping backward, hitting the floor like a sack of bricks.

And just like that, the DJ dropped the beat again.

The lights exploded, the crowd cheered, and the dance floor became a fighting ring.

“Ohhh that was a nice one, Uncle Dax!” Alhannah shouted, right before she jabbed the second thug in the nose. He didn’t even see it coming. His head whipped back and blood sprayed from his face.

I scrambled to my feet, brushing myself off. “What the heck is going on!?”

People were cheering them on like this was part of the show.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP.

I froze. That feeling was back. That pulse. That rising current of power humming in my chest. I patted my shirt. “Thanks for the heads up,” I muttered.

Four more thugs pushed through bodies, heading straight for the fight.

Nope. Not gonna happen.

“Excuse me, sorry, pardon me—Trench pilot, coming through!” I weaved and dodged through the crowd, keeping the goons in sight. A waitress passed by. There! An opening near the back wall.

I threw myself up onto a divider wall and cupped my hands around my mouth.

Then I let out the loudest, shrillest whistle I could manage.

Half the club turned to look.

I pointed straight at the four guys and grinned. “Hey uglies! Looking for me—or do you just want more room to dance with each other?”

Laughter erupted around the room.

“Eeep!” I dropped off the divider and grabbed the waitress by the elbow. “Bathroom! Where?!”

She blinked. “Uh—hallway. Left. First door.”

“THANK YOU!” I shouted and ran like a madman.

Uhhh, mad-gnome.

“Get back here!” one of the thugs bellowed.

I was howling inside. Laughing. This was so stupid. It felt like high school all over again. Being chased to a bathroom by bullies. But this time I was a gnome.

Sliding across the slate floor, I slammed into the hallway wall, bounced off, then caught my balance. Pictures rattled on their hooks. I didn’t even turn to look—I could hear their feet pounding behind me.

I burst through the bathroom door.

“Yes! I’ll just pop open the window and—”

Brick wall.

“No. No no no no no,” I ran my hands along the walls. “There’s gotta be—!”

Nothing. Five stalls. Two urinals. No windows.

“I’m trapped,” I whispered.

Tha-THUMP-THUMP.

Yeah. I know.

The doorknob jiggled.

Then turned.

With a knee-jerk reaction, I threw up my fists. Alhannah wanted me to learn how to fight? Well, at least they weren’t trying to eat me in Clockworks. That thought made me smirk. Hah. Yeah, that’s a good way to think about it. Maybe it’ll hurt, but I’ll still have all my limbs when I’m done… right, Ithari?

With all my might, I tried to recall the fight at the Roadkill Tavern… and in the fields below Til-Thorin.

I can do this.

The doorknob jerked.

Light and music burst into the room.

“Wendell, you ok?” It was Shamas. He stepped into the bathroom, looked around, then crouched and peeked under the stalls. “You alone?”

I lowered my fists. “Uh… yeah.” Straightening my tie, “Yes. I’m… fine.”

He nodded. “Good.” He strolled over to the sink like we were just finishing up breakfast and started washing his hands. “You ready to go meet ‘Hannah and Dax?”

I couldn’t stop staring at the door.

What happened? The gnome goons were right behind me—I heard them. I was sure they’d follow me into the bathroom, pin me and beat me up. But they didn’t.

Why?

Shamas smiled. “Come on.” He opened the door and added casually, “Watch your step.”

Ten feet outside the bathroom lay four gnomes in dark suits… unconscious. They were piled like poorly folded laundry, limbs askew and twitching slightly.

I froze.

“Did you do that?” I asked, still staring at the heap of thugs.

Shamas smirked. “Don’t look at me.” Then with that same cheeky grin Alhannah was famous for, “Must’ve tripped and fell.”

GAH had returned to full chaos mode by the time I reached Darcy’s table—booming music, flashing lights, and the sea of bouncing bodies back in motion. The two thugs Dax and Alhannah had taken down were being patched up in a nearby booth, while the others had completely vanished. Even Darcy’s entourage had left him—he sat alone now, flanked only by awkward silence and ego.

Alhannah had her boots up on the table, a sly grin carved into her face like a victory banner. Dax was back to hoarding leftover drinks, slurping loudly and looking way too proud of himself.

Darcy looked… disappointed.

“And you made it as well?” he sneered at me. “Bah.”

I blinked. “Uh… sorry?”

He turned away, dismissing me like a fly in his soup. I suddenly understood how he viewed me. Irrelevant. Not even worth a second look. His attention locked onto Alhannah instead. The way he looked at her…a predator sizing its prey. Darcy pulled a small silver box from inside his jacket, flipped it open, and flicked a cigarette into his mouth. With a single stroke across his pant leg, the lighter sparked to life, igniting the end of the stick with practiced ease.

“You don’t think you’ll actually take the title back, do you, Red?” Smoke curled out his mouth and up his nose…then blew it at Alhannah.

She laughed. “Funny, Darcy—you almost sound like you have some kind of leverage over me.” She leaned forward, pulling her feet from the table. “But you don’t. All you have is an ego you can’t control and a career nobody cares about but you.” Alhannah shrugged slowly, tilting her head forward with a smile that displayed her own animal prowess. “You’re scum—you just haven’t realized it yet.”

I noticed Dax had stopped drinking. His fists clenched around the empty glasses, eyes locked on Darcy like a wolf about to feed.

But Shamas? Shamas looked like he could’ve been napping with his eyes open. Leaning against the rail, watching everyone quietly.

Darcy laughed and leaned in closer. A long drag of his cigarette, and he exhaled the smoke straight into Alhannah’s face. She coughed, waving the foul cloud away. “You don’t get it, Red,” he said coldly. “Trench Wars ain’t what it used to be. In one season, they turned that game on its head.”

Alhannah narrowed her eyes. “So?”

“So,” he said, gesturing lazily toward me without even looking. “I’ve seen the clips on WHRN. You and Gnolaum-boy over there.” His fingers fluttered. “Old-school pilots don’t have a prayer. Not with the new rules.” He took another drag, the ember glowing like a devil’s eye at the end of his cigarette. Smoke shot from his nostrils, rolling down across his chest.

“They just get hurt.”

I wandered the empty halls of the warehouse, doing my best to avoid everyone.

Whenever someone called for me, I slid into one of the dozens of side rooms and waited until they passed. The RAT team had been perfecting the S.L.A.G.s—working out the last bugs—while Nat and Alhannah huddled over strategy tables, feeding data from Cryo64 into coordinated simulations. The first round of combat was tomorrow.

Strangely, I wasn’t afraid.

I was disappointed.

Back on Earth, I was a nerd. Yeah, I know you know that, but I’d never even played sports. As in ever. Now, who knows how far away from my home planet, I was going to pilot a twenty-foot death machine?

Seriously?

Trench Wars was so far outside my comfort zone, I…ahh, this was just stupid. I had hoped to get some encouragement, maybe even a little attention from the only people I knew.

The people I relied on.

Chuck and Lili had all but disappeared. They isolated themselves in a makeshift library, pouring over books and blueprints, chasing the legacy of the original Clockworks tinkerers. Trying to uncover any mention of the final Demoni Vankil seal was causing the mägo a level of stress even Dax hadn't seen before. Half the time, Chuck was so focused on his research, he kicked Lili out and locked the door.

Yet even then, she didn't go anywhere near the S.L.A.G.s.

Nibbles called my name again.

Choosing the door under the broken hall light, I slipped inside, left the door half-open, leaned against the wall and slid down on my rear. The room was pitch black—dirty windows—and the musty smell stung my nose.

Honestly? I felt better in the dark.

I’m making progress, I told myself. Even Alhannah and Dax are impressed with how I’m controlling Gnolaum now. So why did I care so much about getting Lili to notice me? Why did it matter?

For a while she seemed to be fascinated with the tech. Especially when I could explain how it worked to her. Alhannah had tried, but Lili seemed to take the information more readily from a fellow human. She even lit up a few times, when I showed her how things worked. But once Chuck gave her those old printed books?

She’d distanced herself from all of it.

From me.

A set of soft footsteps paused outside the door. A shadow leaned against the frosted glass, trying to peek in. I wasn’t in the mood for another test run. Or another “let’s tweak the joystick sensitivity again” routine.

I didn’t need polish. I needed space.

The news hadn’t helped either. After the GAH incident, the media spun everything into a dramatic rivalry. One anchor claimed Darcy Dunnit had deliberately sent goons to break enough bones to eliminate us from the tournament. It wasn’t totally false, but the real kicker was that the reporters decided I had taken out four of the thugs—while Dax and Alhannah only managed one each.

Nat said the fan mail was already pouring in. Especially from the ladies.

And just like that, it wasn’t real anymore.

Yes, I was a pilot now. And weirdly… I was getting good at it. But Trench Wars wasn’t the point.

This was about Chuck finding that seal. About stopping Mahan. It was about Kyliene. Hiram. All the lives that had already been lost. They believed in me.

They’re the reason I’m still here.

I peeked out the door, then shuffled down the hall toward the library.

The smell of Chuck’s incense met me before I reached the door—some earthy mix of cloves and bitter orange. There was a sign hanging from a bent nail on the door:

JUST DON’T.

Very Chuck.

I turned the knob slowly, cringing at the creak as it gave way. Whatever—I needed to do this. I needed to talk to him.

The room had been completely transformed. Chuck could do that. Take a cold steel tomb of a storage room and turn it into a cozy sanctuary with nothing but a few rugs, a bit of magic, and an unhealthy addiction to leather-bound books. Thin shelves lined the walls, and two gorgeous mahogany desks had been rotated to face a stone fireplace flickering in the corner.

I’d asked him once how he pulled it off.

“It’s all in the wrist,” he’d smirked.

The overhead artificial lights were off. Instead, candles lit the room in soft glows—scattered across chandeliers, shelves, and brass holders bolted to the walls. The chandelier overhead had six human-looking arms, each balancing a candle on every finger. Wax sculptures lined the room—snakes, dragons, bats, flowers, soldier’s helmets—all burning with crimson, yellow, and deep blue flames.

Books were everywhere. On shelves. On the floor. Stacked high into precarious towers on the desks, even fashioned into makeshift coffee tables between the chairs in front of the fire.

Chuck’s wild white eyebrows peeked out from behind one such stack.

“Lili dear, did you bring—?” he started, but paused mid-sentence. For a moment, I wasn’t even sure he recognized me. Long, gnarled fingers reached forward and shifted books out of his line of sight.

He nodded, casual. “Oh. Hello, son.”

“Hey Chuck,” I said, timidly. The door clicked shut behind me.

He nodded to the chair at opposite desk, which was empty. “Can I help you with something?”

I hesitated, then stepped further in. Just say it. “Actually… yeah.” I slid my hands into my jean pockets. Even the smiley face on my shirt seemed to look away under the wizard’s gaze.

“Have—” My voice caught. I coughed.

Chuck stood and slowly came around the desk. “Yes?”

Do it. “I’m just wondering… Chuck, have I…done something wrong?”

He tilted his head, thick brows rolling forward. “Why would you think that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We used to talk. Since we got here, you…” I glanced away. “Well, I thought maybe you were mad at me. Or something like that.”

The fire popped and crackled. Chuck stared into it without blinking, and for a moment I thought he’d forgotten I was in the room.

Then he smiled.

“Come here, son. Sit with me.”

We sank into the deep leather chairs next to the fire.

Chuck turned toward me, legs crossed, face soft. “I’m sorry.”

I frowned. “For what?”

“For… the neglect,” he said gently. “You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise.” He scratched at his high forehead. “This research is getting to me. And there’s something important I’ve forgotten. I know I have… but I can’t remember what it is.”

“Can I help?”

The bushy mustache shifted thoughtfully from one side of his face to the other. “Actually… yes. But I need to apologize first.”

I chuckled. “You just did that, Chuck.”

“Not for this,” he said. From his sleeve, he pulled out a folded letter—the seal smudged but still visible in red wax.

My mouth fell open. “Is that—?”

Chuck nodded and handed it to me. “I took it when you were… well, when you were hurt. I didn’t know if you’d wake up again.”

“That’s okay. We all forget things.”

“I didn’t forget, son.”

I looked up. The wizard’s eyes were still fixed on the letter.

“What do you mean?”

“I tried to use it,” he confessed. “To find the last seal.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me for help?”

“I…”

“Did I lose your confidence? Your trust?”

“No. Of course not.” His voice was strained. His eyes dropped to the floor, his expression twisting. “You’d been through so much. And then, for the first time since you got here… I saw you happy. The technology, the challenge—it lit you up. I didn’t want to drag you back into the dark before you had a chance to stand in the light.”

His eyes returned to mine. “You deserved a moment to just be.”

I didn’t know what to say.

After all I’d been through… Chuck just wanted to let me breathe.

“But,” I said quietly, holding up the letter, “I chose this.” I shook the paper slightly. “And this—was intended for me. Not you.”

He smiled. “You’re right.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” I asked.

He snorted. “Not in the least. Just an old man trying to do too much, that’s all.” He shrugged. “And I felt guilty for keeping the letter.”

I unfolded the paper slowly, fingers tracing the old creases. “So… did it help?” I asked.

“Did what help?”

I flicked the paper. “The letter. Did it help you?”

Chuck sighed and shook his head. “Not in the least.”

But I wasn’t looking at him anymore.

I was staring at the paper.

My eyes grew wide.

Chuck leaned forward. “What’s the matter?”

I blinked. “It's changed again.”

The wizard nearly fell off his chair. “What’s it say!?”

The smiley on my shirt stretched into a wide, wild grin.

“It says… WIN.”

---

Want to start at the beginning? Grab yourself a copy of book one in the Chronicles of Hero series!

---

---