31: Ciri's Tale

Ciri laughed at the top of her lungs, thoroughly enjoying herself for the first time in recent memory. Nothing loomed over her head anymore. She was free from the Hunt, free from her constant flight between worlds. All because she'd heard a song that shouldn't have been familiar but WAS in her fear and panic.

The world she'd landed in was a strange one. Perhaps one of the strangest she'd ever been to. And all she'd seen of it so far was this bar, this Dead End…

It was another of those worlds from the future. She'd found them here and there in the past. But she'd never given much thought to the 'time travel' aspect of her power that they hinted at. She wasn't able to. All she'd been able to do — even with all of her power — was flee from the relentless hounds of the Hunt.

How long? How long had she fled? How far from home was she truly? From Geralt and Yennifer and her homeland? Ciri was certain she didn't know. She'd have to begin the long and perilous journey back eventually. But tonight was for drink and merrymaking. Tonight, the distance didn't seem to matter.

All thanks to a collection of practically impossible coincidences. Ciri had seen much in her time on the run, hopping between worlds and dimensions. But still, the Dead End and everything she'd found inside it was tough to wrap her head around.

She'd been introduced to everyone after the business with the Wild Hunt was over and done with. There were many to meet and all seemed quite happy to meet her. None greeted her with suspicion or malicious intent. The so-called 'mooks' were like no common bandits Ciri had ever met. The 'villains and heroes' were even stranger. And yet, they were still more welcoming than most acquaintances Ciri could think to mention.

Gruff Mister 'Two-Face'. Polite and high-class Mister Penguin. The fittingly cat-like Lady Catwoman. The flirtatious and foolish Sir Nightwing — who was, perhaps appropriately, called by a name of crass slang. The paradoxically silent and talkative Lady Cassandra.

The statuesque Princess Diana of Themyscira — a heroic woman who fought for Ciri only minutes after meeting her. The caustic unusually cheerful Sir Constantine — someone who would fit right in with Yennifer and the sorcerers of Aretuza or Geralt and the Witchers of Kaer Morhen. Black Canary — a woman resigned to the night's insanity.

All of the heroes and villains at least tentatively fit within a mortal's ken. They skirted the edges of that reasonable knowledge without doubt, but Ciri had seen enough that she could accept skilled warriors and sorcerers who acted as heroes and villains. Even a Demi-Goddess if she suspended her disbelief.

Then the Dead End offered even stranger still. The Devil Lucifer — retired Lord of All Evil — who supported Ciri despite that former title. The sarcastic and macabre Maiden Alice — Daughter of Death. The kind and gentle Lady Didi — Death herself — welcomed Ciri easily and readily contrary to Ciri's preconceptions.

And finally, at the center of it all, Sir Sean Caine. Owner of the unprecedented Dead End. Prince Consort to Death Herself. The man who knew Ciri personally. Who she had yet to meet in return…

It was only after a hearty quaff of good wine that Ciri had been willing to think on the subject. Time travel still confused and vexed her, impossible to wrap her head around. And their situation was supposed to be a relatively simple one! Yet Ciri was meeting a man for the first time who'd met her for the first time after this meeting!

Bah! Useless pedantic complications, unfit even for beasts and monsters. Ciri would cut the whole situation down with her silver sword if she could. As Lady Cassandra so eloquently put it, 'fuck time travel'.

Still, Ciri would not deny that she found good companionship in Sir Caine and those who visited his establishment. Princess Diana reminded Ciri of herself. Not overly much but enough for her to feel a sense of commonality with the royal warrior. Lady Didi was perhaps one of the kindest, most benevolent beings Ciri had ever met. Even Lady Lucifer was likable in a cocky and mischievous sort of way.

With good drink and good company at hand, Ciri was relishing the turn her night had taken. Sir Caine never seemed to run out of stories. In a way, it reminded her of home, of the bards who sang tall tales in every tavern one came across. In another way, there was nothing like this at home.

Sir Caine steadfastly refused to tell her any stories from her home and their (future?) adventures together there. He claimed he didn't want to 'spoil things'. It was frustrating but Ciri could still enjoy the tales of his other extraordinary exploits.

"-And so, after the world was saved and I had successfully escaped from the Dragon who wanted to be my baby mama, I found myself quite… bored."

"Oh no," Canary groaned. "That world is doomed, isn't it? And right after you saved it too…"

"It wasn't nearly that bad," Sean waved. "Have some faith in me."

"I have only just met you, Sir Caine," Ciri commented, amused. "And I can already tell that is a prodigious ask."

"You requesting faith is certainly rich, Sean," Lucifer smirked ironically.

"And that's coming from you," Constantine scoffed.

"No matter how bad you can be, I'll always have faith in you, Dear," Didi praised warmly.

Sean turned his nose up high at the rest of them, "Thank you, Didi. I barely even caused the collapse of a society in this one."

"Oh, dear…" Didi seemed to reevaluate her words.

"Anyway," Sean chuckled. "Bored as I was, I stumbled across a scene that grabbed my interest. A rich man — poor in luck and spirit — tricked by the Fae. Naturally, I offered him my services for a healthy price. And so began my quest to drive the Fae utterly insane."

A 'mook' snorted, "Honestly? They probably deserved it. The idea of the Fae has always rubbed me the wrong way."

"They're worse than elves," Another added.

"Eh, I don't know about that. Especially considering our most recent visitor…"

"… Yeah, that's fair. Knife-ears like him don't get any sympathy."

Diana frowned, "While I agree that creature was deplorable, should we truly judge all elf kind by one bad actor? That seems hasty and prejudiced."

"'The only good elf is a dead elf'," Penguin said, seeming to quote something Ciri was unfamiliar with. By personal experience alone, she couldn't help but agree with the sentiment though…

Sean chuckled, "The hate elves get is, if not accurate, at least somewhat deserved. Trust me, Diana. I've been an elf in a past life. Well, half-elf but my point still stands.

"Elves can be beautiful and graceful beings. They can also be the most arrogant, xenophobic people you'll ever meet. Like the dead 'king' who just visited. In the end, it all comes down to the individual. But the society and culture they're entrenched in doesn't help matters."

"I think I would like to meet an elf that is not a murderous, conquering slaver," Ciri considered.

"They exist," Sean confirmed. "But you aren't likely to find them among the Aen Elle or their Wild Hunt. Certainly not anymore now that the Wild Hunt has been forcibly disbanded."

Sean smirked as he said the last sentence. Ciri couldn't help but smile with him at the reminder. After a mere moment, she sighed.

"It is strange to have my journey — involuntary as it was — come to an end."

"But it does present us with a unique opportunity," Penguin observed. "This may be the first time someone with stories of other worlds has visited the Dead End. Other than Mr. Barkeep, of course."

"Ahem," Lucifer cleared her throat, pointedly drawing attention to herself.

"Oh, get over yourself, you conceited bitch," Constantine rolled his eyes.

Lucifer swooned, suddenly leaning against him and cooing, "Oh, Johnny, yes~ Talk dirty to me~!"

Ciri had to pause. Theirs was a strange relationship. By the strained expressions on the faces of Sir Constantine's comrades, she wasn't the only one to think that.

Sean just chuckled, "Penguin does have a point though. Care to share some of your more interesting travels, Ciri?"

"… I suppose I might," Ciri agreed, shaking her focus off Sir Constantine and Lady Lucifer's relationship. "I suspect my stories will be nowhere as entertaining as yours, Sir Caine."

He smiled softly at her, "They won't be boring either though. Go on, Ciri. Tell us your tale."

Ciri nodded, starting slowly, "One world stands out the most, so foreign from anything I knew. I traveled through many worlds. Through time and space… Yet still, that world will never leave my memories. I saw houses of glass. People there had metal in their heads. Waged war from a distance. As if by magic. But… there was none to be found-…"

IIIII

[Ciri Fiona Elen Riannon]

[Night City, 2076]

Ciri only stumbled slightly as she came through her portal, checking her surroundings with frantic focus. She'd learned the hard way never to get complacent with fresh jumps. Ciri had found she had a tendency to leap from danger to danger and it seemed this time was no different.

She arrived in a hall of metal-faced, red-eyed demons. Truly heinous creatures. Steel golems wrapped in the vaguest approximation of flesh and skin. It was like nothing Ciri had ever seen.

At the basest level, the creatures resembled men. Two arms, two legs, some of them even still had hair. But the resemblance ended there, ended with the soulless glowing eyes set into their faces.

They were, simply put, WRONG. Wrong on a level that Ciri could feel in her very bones. Nothing but malice and insanity lurked behind those 'eyes' if they could even be called that. If these monsters had once been men, that time had long since passed.

The only saving grace was that Ciri's arrival had gone unnoticed so far. Her portal had disappeared as quickly as it appeared and now she was simply left in the dark with monsters. Unfortunately, it was a situation she was painfully familiar with.

Ciri kept to the shadows as she crept through the strange building. It seemed to be a warehouse or storage of some kind. The setting was both familiar and foreign to Ciri's senses. Her surroundings were more advanced than anything she'd seen and yet also seemed to fester with decay and ruin.

Walls of metal. Floors of some strange seamless stone. Flameless lights barely illuminated the dim space, even writing out glowing words and projecting scenes that shouldn't be. Strange contraptions whirred and hummed, chugging along like laboring beasts.

Ciri's assumption about the metal monsters in human skin was thrown into question as she observed them. They walked like men. They talked like men. Ciri even saw them drinking what seemed to be some unfamiliar variety of ale in glass bottles of all things.

That wasn't the only thing they 'ingested'. Advanced needles pumped Lord knows what into their veins. Acidic and toxic-smelling smoke filled the air, inhaled and exhaled by the demons that Ciri was starting to think were more man than she first assumed. They acted like any common bandit or brigand would in the comfort and safety of their hideout.

"Yo, Fuckhead! Pass the synth! I need a fucking line or I'll go psycho!" One of the monsters shouted at another.

"Did you steal my new iron, you kleptoid fuck?!" Another screamed, unrelated to the first.

"Take that tone with me again and you'll find yourself zeroed real quick, Choom."

"Ha! You don't have the RAM, Gonk!"

"Try me."

"Yo, flick me that XBD, will ya? The one with that joytoy getting turned all the way inside out. Yeah, that's that good shit!"

"Man, I'm fucking tired of kibble. Next gonk I see, I'm chunking them on the spot. Maybe they'll taste better…"

"Haha! Might as well go for a lawman, Borg-ski!"

"Yeah, I bet Badges taste extra tender!"

"Fuck, Choom, this downtime got me acting up! I wanna fucking flatline something!"

"Patience, Choomba, we'll get our chance."

Ciri couldn't help but feel that she was bearing witness to depravities and evils she couldn't even comprehend. There was no doubt in her mind anymore. These creatures were exactly what they looked like at first glance. No matter how well they impersonated the human experience, they were monsters, not men.

"Which of you gonks had the smart-ass idea to shut the little bitch up?" One of the monsters asked, entering the main room with the others.

He carried himself with an importance that had Ciri singling him out as a leader. At the same time, his words made her go still in her hiding place. The monsters had a prisoner, a hostage. Immediately, Ciri's conviction was set. She would have to act. To do her duty as a Witcher and lay these monsters low to spare the innocent.

"Oh! Oh! That was me, Boss!" A skinny, beanpole-like demon claimed excitedly.

The boss monster wasted no time, slamming a fist into his underlings face and laying him low. Despite the violence, he complimented the smaller demon, "… Good job. Her yapping was getting on my nerves."

"Little bitch has got a mouth on her! I wouldn't mind trying it out for myself," Another of the gang of monstrous brigands leered.

"Not until after this sitch is over and done with," The boss denied. "We'll get the scratch we deserve for her and a good fight with those Edgerunner friends of hers. THEN we can make her into our proper little joytoy."

While many of the foreign terms went over Ciri's head, she still got the jist of the situation through context clues. It disgusted her. There was only one thing that monsters like these would do with a woman. Ciri wouldn't let THAT or the betrayal that would proceed it happen.

She'd taken this contract now. It wasn't an official Witcher contract and Ciri knew she likely wouldn't get paid but she didn't rightly care. These were monsters. Monsters that needed slaying. The only true question left in her mind was what tool was the right fit for this job. Silver or steel?

Both, Ciri quickly decided. If steel didn't work, then silver would, and vice versa. She didn't worry once about her ability to slay these monsters. She was a Witcher. This was what she did, even when she was on the run from monsters of her own.

It was at times like this that Ciri wished she'd been able to finish her training with Yennifer. A true sorcerer's magic would come in handy against these demons. Ciri did not advance nearly that far in her studies.

All she had was knowledge and strictly practiced control of her emotions to force magical power to flow through her as a Source. Unfortunately, her Source nature left her with very little control over the actual effects of that magic. She couldn't even do the basic Witcher signs.

As Ciri stalked the monstrous gang from the shadows, their hostage finally came into view. She was a strange sight to Ciri's eyes. Just like everything else in this world, it seemed. But she wasn't nearly as monstrous as the men who held her captive. If anything, the girl was almost cute.

She was a slip of a woman. Small enough that Ciri might have mistaken her for a young girl if not for her undeniably womanly curves. Her features were certainly exotic though. Ciri had never seen hair of that color on a person. The pale blue color looked so much like polished turquoise.

Her skin was almost unnaturally pale and decorated with pink tattoos that showed through the woman's scandalous manner of dress. Ciri didn't know if her lack of clothing could be blamed on the monsters or not. Either way, it left very little to the imagination.

But the most striking feature of the woman was her eyes. Exotic things of pink and yellow made her look like a demon in her own right. Filled with fury, fire, and defiance. A gag obscured her mouth but did nothing to hide her vigorous struggles. If she could speak, Ciri was sure the woman would have been screaming obscenities.

The boss knelt down to stare into the gagged and bound woman's eyes, "We're getting a pretty penny for you, girly. Maine was more than willing to cough up the ransom. Naive Gonk didn't even try to bargain. You should feel lucky, Choombatta. It seems he really values you… 'Course, fat lot of good that'll do him when we finish pumping him full of lead and take the scratch anyway. Then… Well, you and I are going to see what that pretty little mouth of yours can really do…"

Though she was unable to speak, the captive woman managed to get her reply across loud and clear, "Fuck! You! Shit fer brains!"

The monster chuckled cruelly, "A pretty thing like you is practically begging to be body mod bait. I'm sure some corpo corpse will shill out good Eddies to make you their little pet project. We're going to profit off you twice, little bird~…"

Ciri had heard more than enough. She slipped from the shadows. The gang was mostly crowded around the boss monster, leering and jeering at his captive. They didn't notice a shadow detach itself from the darkness until it was much too late.

With a near-silent rasp, Ciri's silver sword slid from its sheath. Its weight settled comfortably into her hand. Careful fingers pulled a plethora of potions from her belt. Blizzard, Wolf, Maribor Forest, and Full Moon. Just a single dose of each. It paid to never be too careful but Ciri also couldn't afford to waste her limited resources.

Each short quaff of potion brought almost instantaneous effects. Heightened reflexes and reactions for Blizzard. Precision for Wolf. Endurance and stamina for Maribor Forest. And vitality for Full Moon. Ciri boosted herself past even a Witcher's normal limits with the toxic brews, trusting her gifted tolerance to mitigate their adverse effects.

The bottles were carefully and gently tucked back into the pouch, safe and sound from the coming fight. Her offhand drew the dagger from her hip, holding it reversed in her grip. Determination set in, as sharp and solid as her blades. She felt herself more than capable of taking care of these monsters.

The gang's backs stayed turned away from her until the very last moment. By the time one of them turned her way — to light up another of those toxic, ill-smelling smokes — Ciri was in range to strike. And strike she did, lashing out at the boss monster like a viper.

Her silver blade bit deep into metal flesh. She aimed for the heart — or where the heart would have been on a normal man. Her sword extruded from the monster's chest like some sick new limb bursting from its torso.

The room fell eerily silent following her sudden attack. The boss slowly looked down at his chest, seeing the protruding blade but not comprehending what it meant. It was the last sight he saw. Oil and blood — both so thick that they were indiscernible in the dark — poured forth from the fatal wound.

Ciri could feel what passed for a heartbeat fade into nothingness through her sword. The monster died with an expression of visible shock on its face. The shock extended to the demon's fellows, seemingly stuck in place as if time had momentarily stopped. Even the captive had a look of shock on her face, laced with an eager hope that quickly overtook her features.

"What the-…"

"What the fuck?!"

"Fucking samurai!"

"Kill this fucker!"

"You came to the wrong house, fool!"

All at once, the gang burst back into motion with expletives and vulgar threats. They reached for strange metal tools. Like crossbows but without string or bolts. While Ciri didn't recognize the specific tools in question, she knew weapons when she saw them.

Ciri didn't let her foes seize the initiative. She lashed out again, this time with her boot instead of blade. The now-dead, hulking metal monstrosity flew off the length of Ciri's sword with much more strength than her size betrayed. The cast-metal corpse disrupted the gang's ranks, throwing them to the side like pins in an alley.

With a spin, Ciri's sword sliced cleanly through another gang monster's guts. Nothing spilled out of the harsh wound as it should have. Another kick — roundhouse, this time — sent the ought-to-be disemboweled monster sprawling.

Faster than any of the modified monsters could react or blink — if they even still did that —, Ciri was amongst them. Sparks flew as silver and steel clashed with alloy flesh. With no time or space to get shots off with their strange stringless crossbows, the demons were left to brawl. And up close, Ciri emerged victorious. Every. Single. Time.

Shouts of panic and fear audibly illuminated the dim space, "Bitch moves like a psycho!"

"Fucking short-circed gonk!"

"Shit! Shit! Where's the 'Dorph, man?!"

"She ain't even using chrome!"

"Is this little slut fucking ganic?!"

On opposite sides of the melee, two of the monsters managed to create enough distance to raise their weapons. They didn't hesitate to let loose into their allies for a chance at hitting Ciri. Explosions of flash and sound stunned the young Witcher for a moment. The momentary hesitation was just barely enough for one of the weapons to strike true.

Ciri felt an impact. Like a punch to the stomach, one that knocked all of the air from her lungs. She ignored the impact as best she could. There was shockingly little pain accompanying it and she had a job to finish.

Pushing herself even farther beyond her limits, Ciri got to the offending monsters before they could hit her again with those dreadful weapons. They'd circled the melee, coming to rest side by side as they sprayed indiscriminately into the near darkness. If anything, they helped Ciri more than they hurt her, felling the other demons in droves before Ciri could finish the job herself.

And with only two left, Ciri could finally focus her attention. Darting in with a ducked head, her blades cut through monstrous arms and the offending arms they held in their hands. From there, the rest was simple. The two demons screamed, begging for their lives. Ciri had no mercy for monsters.

Panting heavily, Ciri stood victorious above a den of demons. The adrenaline started to wane from her blood. Only now could Ciri wince at the blossoming pain in her gut. The one attack that had found its way through her defenses seemed to have done more damage than she realized.

There was no helping it. The pain and bleeding called for another potion. A Kiss, this time. Still, Ciri was meticulous about only taking one dose. It helped tremendously. Already, she could feel the wound in the side of her abdomen begin to clot.

Ciri quickly found that she could still move. And only with a slight limp, at that. She wiped her blades — stained with oil, blood, and Lord knows what else — on the haphazard clothes of corpses. All that was left was to find and free the captive, the woman who might have been her contractor in another time and place.

Said 'contractor' quickly made herself known now that the fighting had died down. She was no stranger to violence, it seemed, having managed to scramble herself into cover as soon as melee and seemingly magical fire started. Good. As much as Ciri wished to save the young woman, she didn't know if she could spare any potion to heal her potential wounds.

The exotic, young-looking woman stared up at Ciri with sparkling, awed eyes despite her bound state. Ciri wasn't nearly a stranger to hero worship but it still rubbed her the wrong way slightly. She needed no praise for doing her duty… Well, maybe if it was from Geralt or Yennifer…

For the dozenth time in the past few worlds alone, Ciri promised herself that she would make it back home eventually. Once she'd successfully escaped the relentless pursuers that hounded her so. Ciri shook such thoughts from her head.

A few almost negligent flicks of the wrist and dagger within freed the young woman from her binds. Her gag was removed with similar ease. Thankfully, the 'hero worship' Ciri saw in the woman's eyes wasn't the familiar stunned fearful reverence she dreaded.

Something she quickly proved once she was able to speak clearly again, "That. Was. Fucking. Nova, Choom~! Proper samurai shit! Not a corpo or badge in sight either! Those borgs didn't stand a chance! Preem fucking violence, Gang! You must be chromed to Hell and back to do that shit with just a blade, Choom! Good shit too, I can't even see a seam!"

Ciri was immediately stun-locked by the flood of unfamiliar slang. Eventually, she said the only thing her reeling mind could think of, "… Yes."

"Huh?" The woman's face scrunched up in confusion. "Whatever, never mind. I'm Rebecca, Choom! Call me Becca! Nice to meet ya and thanks for the extract!"

"You're… welcome…" Ciri said slowly. "How did you come to find yourself held hostage by those demons?"

"Demons. Yeah, that about sums up Maelstrom. Fuckin' nutty boosters," Becca chuckled. "They just caught me lacking, ya know? Running my mouth and shit. I tend to get myself into trouble. Usually, I can deal with it well enough but Pilar — my big bro — was borrowing all my heavy iron this time. I'm gonna smack that gonk until he short-circs when I see him again."

"I see…" Ciri did not see. "Shall we vacate the premises? I assume you would not wish to stay in such a place of poor memories longer than you have to."

"Nah," Becca waved. "The big bastard said Maine was coming. So we can't delta just yet. Gotta stay and give him the detes. The whole rundown, ya know? Besides, you're gonna wanna be compensated for your work, aren't ya?"

"I am…?" Ciri said it more like a question than an answer.

"Shit, you're a proper bennie!" Becca exclaimed in sudden realization. "A real out-of-towner? That's why you talk all old-fashioned and shit? I guess it explains the fit too. I thought you were just one of those fantasy exotics!"

Ciri couldn't stop the slight twitch of her lips, "Out-of-towner? Yes… You could say that."

"Hey, Choom, you're pretty damn Nova for a bennie~!" Becca cheerfully along with her relentless pace. "The crew might be able to use another fresh face like you right now. We recently recruited this new guy, David. He's adorable and he's got some spine to him, other than his Sandy, haha~! But for a bennie who can slice up a whole gang like you can, I'm sure Maine can find some work for you~!"

Strangely, Ciri found Becca's excitement and forwardness infectious. It made her smile. So different from anyone she knew but still friendly. It was obvious the smaller woman was thankful for her rescue and she was just trying to help. Considering that Ciri had found herself in an utterly foreign world, she couldn't fault the offered assistance.

Becca rambled on about this and that as they waited for her 'crew' to show up. Despite the fact that it seemed Ciri was only nodding along, she was listening intently. Becca was a treasure trove of information on this new world she'd arrived in.

Not all of that information made sense to Ciri's foreign sensibilities. A city of millions? The year 2076? Technology that was leaps and bounds ahead of anything Ciri had even considered possible? No monsters or magic other than what man had to offer?

The gang den she'd arrived in was starting to feel strangely comforting now that Ciri knew what lay beyond its walls. Yet, at the same time, Ciri couldn't feel the ever-present sense of pursuit and danger pressing down on her here. This world, foreign as it was, might have been just what she needed — just strange enough to shake her hunters so Ciri could rest and recover from her constant flight between worlds.

Becca's crew didn't take long to arrive. They entered the gang den as if ready and raring for a fight. Only to stop short when they saw the utter carnage inside and the two young women standing over a veritable pile of dead bodies.

The leader of the crew was immediately obvious just by size alone — this 'Maine' Ciri had been hearing so much about, she assumed. He was a magnitude larger than any other man she'd ever seen. Dark of skin and stone of face, 'Maine' did a wonderful impression of a walking brick wall.

He was immediately accompanied by a woman in the same league as him. She was nearly as large as 'Maine'. Ciri couldn't help but feel that they made quite the fetching couple.

The other members of the crew were more in line with Ciri's expectations. Within the reasonable limits on human size, at least. They were still some of the most exotic people she'd ever seen. A man with arms that were much too long for his skinny frame. A woman with more mask than face.

Another woman, slim and exceedingly beautiful. Perhaps one of the most beautiful women Ciri had ever seen. She had an almost elfin flavor to her, despite not having the trademark ears that would mark her as such. Perhaps it was her hair, pastel and almost glittering in the low light. Or perhaps it was the stoically beautiful expression on her face that didn't flinch even upon seeing the bodies of demons that Ciri stood over.

And finally, a remarkably normal-looking young man. He was handsome, sure, and wearing the clothing of the time, but he almost seemed out of place next to the unadulterated characters that preceded him. Yet, there was still something about him that caught Ciri's eye. Some aura of determination and circumstance made her empathize with the young man, barely more than a boy. Just as Ciri was barely more than a girl…

"'The fuck happened here?" The crew's leader asked, his voice loud and heavy.

"Fuckin' bloodbath is what happened," The large woman by his side muttered.

"Hey, guys~! Nova, you could make it!" Becca cheerfully greeted her friends. As if she hadn't just been held hostage against her will or bore witness to a monster-slaying slaughter.

"Shit, Becks," Maine grunted. "Thought we'd have to get your ass out of a jam. Seems like you did it yourself though."

Becca puffed up her chest, "'Course I did! Ya shouldn't have expected any less from me, Choom! I did have a bit of help though…"

The whole crew turned to stare at Ciri. She was beginning to feel slightly out of place. Especially standing there with her blades in her hands, weapons that she hadn't seen anyone else using so far. And to be fair, Ciri was aware that she didn't quite fit the current 'aesthetic'… Not very well at all.

She awkwardly cleared her throat, "Sal-… uh, Salutations."

"You did this, girlie?" The large woman asked.

Ciri nodded slowly, unwilling to give up her achievement, "I… did."

The large woman turned to her leader, "Maine, I want her."

Maine whistled, thoroughly impressed as he examined the scene they'd walked into, "Can't say I blame you."

The elfin woman examined Ciri's work critically, "It's good work. Smooth, methodical, and she's not even shaking after the deed is done. Every strike in a Killzone. Other than the gunshot wounds. But I don't see a piece on you so I assume those were done by the idiots themselves?"

"Yes…?" Ciri answered, slightly unsure. "Do you mean the stringless crossbows? That was entirely the demons' doing."

"Stringless crossbows…? What the Hell?" The normal-looking young man asked, bewildered.

"And she doesn't have an ounce of chrome on her," The third woman spoke up to comment.

Ciri blinked as the woman smoked despite her masked mouth, "I believe my blades could be considered chrome… But they are merely steel and silver."

"You telling me this gonk is 100% organic?! Hahahah~!" The long-armed man cackled. "Becca got saved by a nattie~!"

"Yeah, and she could kick your ass before you could blink, dipshit!" Becca growled at Ciri's defense.

Maine nodded, "A whole Maelstrom gang without a single mod? Now, that's REAL impressive, Choom. Yeah, we could use a blade like you. You working, samurai?"

"I am a Witcher, not a 'samurai'," Ciri absently corrected as she thought about his offer.

Eventually, she nodded, "I believe we could come to an arrangement. But I have no need for coin. What I need are allies. Comrades in arms. I have… enemies. Enemies who will undoubtedly find and come for me eventually. I shall lend you my sword if you lend me yours in turn."

The crew went silent, obviously deferring to Maine as their leader, "… Shit, girlie, you don't want a cut AND you're bringing us a scrap? SAY LESS!"

"Yesss~!" Becca hissed in excited victory. "Fucking preem, Choom! We're gonna be working together! You slice 'em, I fill 'em with lead!"

"What's your name, Choom?" Maine asked with a grin.

A small smile started to creep onto Ciri's face as well as she proudly declared, "Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. The Lion Cub of Cintra."

There was a momentary silence following her declaration, — just enough for Ciri to begin to worry she'd stepped out of line — before the young man of the crew spoke, "… Shit, that was badass. Titles are badass. Should I get a title?"

"David Martinez…" The elfin woman deadpanned dramatically. "The Hummingbird."

David grumbled, "Damn, you didn't have to do me dirty like that, Lucy…"

"Uh, guys?" The masked woman got everyone's attention, indicating to the very very slowly growing bloodstain on Ciri's shirt. "Has she been shot this whole time?"

Ah… It seemed Ciri's impromptu first aid hadn't been as effective as she hoped against the foreign weapon. The bleeding had mostly clotted but there was still a slight leak of her vital fluids. And if Ciri had to guess, something was buried inside the wound.

"'Tis but a flesh wound…" She winced unconvincingly.

"… Fucking Nova…!" Becca exclaimed in breathless awe.

And so began Ciri's time in Night City…

IIIII

"-I ended up staying in Night City the longest out of all the worlds I visited," Ciri continued her story, her voice soft, nostalgic, and heartfelt. "I'll never forget my time there. I made many friends. And even more enemies. It was a land most foreign to me. But for all its good and bad, it was one I came to love like my own."

She sighed, "By the time the Wild Hunt came calling, I… didn't want to leave. I wish I could have stayed longer. But that fate was not to be. Even still, my friends and allies fought by my side until I was forced to flee from the Hunt in a sudden burst of Source magic."

The bar was silent as Ciri told her story. Enraptured by her tale. It was a heady feeling. One that Ciri wasn't used to at all, perhaps even more off-balancing than the hero worship she sometimes received for carrying out contracts. She tried to push it to the side, focusing on friends she might never see again.

"That world… sounds fucking awesome!" Alice exclaimed.

Didi chided her lightly but didn't conceal her amusement, "Language, little one."

"More like 'Nova'," Dick snorted in humor.

"*⁂((✪⥎✪))⁂*" Cass' eyes lit up with stars. 'I wanna be a corpo samurai~!'

"So basically a cyberpunk dystopia city?" A mook asked.

"I am… unsure what you mean by that," Ciri admitted.

"Ya know, neon lights contrasting with a grimy future? Excessive sin and callous greed taking over everything in society? Capitalism and the American dream taken to their illogical extremes? Cybertech advancements that allow for terrible things? Cyborgs and guns and moral quandaries?" Penguin elaborated for the mook.

Ciri stared blankly at him for a moment, "Yes… I know some of those words."

"Ah," Penguin paused.

Ciri allowed herself a light laugh, "I am merely pulling your strings, Mister Penguin. I was brought mostly up to date on 'slang' and 'lingo' during my time in that world. I came to at least understand it, though I still prefer speaking 'properly'."

Sean chuckled, "You have to remember that her native world is somewhat behind this one in time. 13th century or so? If I'm remembering correctly. And it has rather different problems than those faced here at a similar time."

"Different problems?" Ciri quirked a smile. "Yes, you could say that. That was certainly true of what I learned from that world and its past, at least. Perhaps here is more similar to my world than you'd expect though…"

"Oh damn…" A mook mumbled.

"Yeah…" Another agreed to the unspoken exclamation. "We've learned about magic and gods and all that shit here in the Dead End. But I never really thought about what it all meant for the past…"

"So fairy and folk tales are…?"

"Myths and legends are rarely just that. There is a kernel of truth at the core of nearly every story," Diana said wisely.

Constantine shuddered, "Yeah, I don't even want to think about myself living in the Dark Ages. If I thought my lot in life was shite now… Well, let's just say I'd probably manage to bring about the fall of a few empires."

"I believe you would find yourself in a line of work similar to mine, Sir Constantine. You would make a worthy Witcher. You remind me quite a bit of Geralt," Ciri observed and praised what she saw.

"Huh, he does, at that," Sean absently agreed. "Both men, cursed by their pasts and presents. And yet, they keep pushing forward, keep doing their duty, keep saving people because it's all they know."

Lucifer sighed theatrically, "Ahh~… I do love a tortured but unbowed and unbroken soul."

"Then I can certainly see why you're so fond of me," Constantine grumbled darkly.

"So… the future, huh?" A mook stated more than asked. "Have you ever seen a future like that, Mr. Barkeep?"

Sean smiled slightly, "Not as such but I think I recognize the specific world Ciri's referring to. If I'm right… well, let's just say that Penguin's description was pretty accurate and leave it at that."

The mook couldn't help but follow up with another question, "Think our world is going to turn out like that?"

"For your sake, I very much hope it doesn't," Ciri warned gravely. "As much as I came to appreciate the world and people there, they were still making the best of a very bad situation."

Sean shrugged, "I'm pretty sure this world is safe from the trappings of a cyberpunk future. As bleak and insane as this place can get, there's still a general underlying optimism beneath it all. Comes with the hero and villain setting, I assume. This place doesn't really have the right sci-fi cyberpunk vibe to it, ya know? Too high magic and high power, not enough grimdark."

"Man, talking about reality with genre, setting, and narrative tropes is wild…"

"The worst part is that I can't even say he's wrong or nuts," Canary said, glaring at her drink as if she wished it was Sean's face.

Didi patted her on the shoulder kindly, "It's best for mortals to not concern themselves with profound business like this. It's nothing you can even begin to truly understand. Just live your life as you always have and the rest will fall into place naturally."

"( ◞‸◟`)" Cass' expression shifted slightly downcast. 'So no corpo samurai?'

Catwoman comforted her, "There, there, kitten. I'm sure Wayne Enterprises is hiring if you wish to pursue your dream of corporate cutthroatness."

Dick snorted, "Heh, that'll be good."

"( ˃̵ᴗ ˂̵)و" Cass pumped her fist in excitement. 'Believe it, Choom! I'm gonna flatline some corpo gonks for Bruce Wayne! I bet he's got access to that preemo Chrome!'

Everyone at the bar paused and Ciri blinked, "… She's picked up the slang remarkably quickly. She even has the correct Night City accent… somehow."

Dick turned to stare dead at her, "You've created a monster. A cyber-slang monster, I say!"

"'Tis not my fault Night City's slang fits so well to seemingly every situation," Ciri giggled at his theatrics. "It is quite satisfying to use as well… Choom."

"It's definitely unique," Two-Face grunted. "I could see using it to mess with a few 'bennies'."

"Huh… That the 'sitch', 'gonk'?" Dick tried it out for himself.

Immediately, everyone cringed, "Ugh, no. Don't do that."

"Yeah, it just sounds wrong coming from you, Nightwing."

"Stick to your usual style. It's corny as Hell but at least you make it work."

Dick deflated, "Aww, man. Was it really that bad?"

"Horrible."

"Awful."

"Terrible."

"Just wrong."

"Like hearing a cat bark."

"Or Santa Claus cursing out his elves."

Each sentence seemed to stab into Dick's soul. Eventually, he just sighed, "Yes, I suppose it was rather ill-fitting. A shame. Like if Shakespeare wrote his best iambic pentameters in a New Jersey accent."

"Did he just compare himself to Shakespeare…?"

"Why, don't be such a spoilsport, my good chum!" Dick grinned playfully. "My manner of speech is the greatest tour de force Gotham has ever seen!"

Two-Face scoffed, "At least it's better than you using 'gonk' like a gonk."

Dick gasped in offense and shook his fist at the dual-sided villain, "You take that back, you sour-stomached so-and-so!"

Giggling at their antics, Ciri found she'd come to quite enjoy her time in the Dead End. It was a shame that it was coming to a close so soon. But as the night wound on and Ciri recuperated from her constant flight between worlds, she began to feel an urge that pushed her even further onward still.

The homely atmosphere of the Dead End — brought about mostly by Sir Caine and Lady Didi — left Ciri longing for home. And now that her pursuers were dealt with, nothing prevented her from returning. Her native lands awaited her triumphant return. As did her friends, family, and her purpose. While she could continue to put it off, Ciri very much did not want to.

Besides, the sooner she returned home, the sooner she could meet Sir Caine again… for the first time. Infuriating time travel shenanigans aside, Ciri felt the need to keep moving on. The friends she'd made tonight left one by one, wishing her luck in her journey home. By the time the sun was beginning to dawn and shine into the bar — Ciri and her steed were rested and ready to continue, this time without Hunters hounding her tail. Only a few remained to see her off.

"I wish thee well on your journey, young warrior," Diana said. "Hold your head high as you return home. Your legend grows ever stronger."

"Yeah, good luck, kid," Constantine gruffed. "And take it from a man like me, don't ever let yourself become a monster."

Alice's farewell was suitably prickly as Ciri had come to expect from the younger girl, "Good luck and bye and junk… I guess you were pretty cool."

"Fair travels, monster-slayer," Lucifer waved. "I've taken the liberty of leaving you a small gift. You may thank me for my good mood."

Didi smiled softly at her, "Know you have Death's blessing, young Witcher. You will never be hunted so again."

"Thank you. All of you. For everything you've done for me tonight. My situation has improved beyond what I can believe. I shall never forget tonight," Ciri smiled, thanking them all from the bottom of her heart.

She turned to Sean specifically, "Until next time, Sir Caine."

He grinned, "It'll be sooner than you think. Now, off you get. Don't keep Geralt, Yennifer, and I waiting."

"How will I find my way home?" Ciri asked.

"Second star to the right and straight on until morning."

That was all Sean said before swatting Ciri's horse on its flank. Barely realizing it, Ciri found herself riding through one of her portals. She waved over her shoulder briefly as she was once again cast out into eternity. Now, though, Ciri had a specific direction in mind.

She puzzled over Sean's parting advice for a moment before Lucifer's gift caught her attention. What exactly had the Devil left her…? Her memories of Night City surfaced in her mind. Only this time, there was a strange esoteric 'direction' associated with them. Something like a call and a guide that pulled her in the direction of her second home.

Oh my… Well, one more stop before returning home couldn't hurt, could it? Despite tempting Murphy, Ciri's mind was quickly made up and she 'turned' herself toward Night City, eager to see her futuristic friends again.