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Marcy Wu woke up dizzy. She opened her eyes, straining against the bright sun. Was that a good sign? They opened the box as the sun was going down. Had she been unconscious for a few hours, or did the box actually work? She struggled to sit up, pushing off the hard-concrete? Stone?-surface. She tried to steady herself, took a deep breath to stave off the nausea. The air was fresher than she was used to. She slowly stood, eyes finally adjusting to the light, and gasped. Before her stood a city of stone and coral, like the capital of some aquatic fantasy kingdom. Spires like red and white mushrooms towered overhead, small buildings and stalls hidden in their shade, along with their inhabitants. The strange, colourful creatures began to cautiously crowd around the human girl, and her heart began to race. It worked. The music box actually worked!
Marcy laughed, unable to contain her joy. She whipped around, eager to share her excitement with her best friends, and faltered when she realized they weren’t there. Excitement turned to panic, joy to fear, as she hurriedly looked around her, voice cracking as she called their names. “Anne!? Sash!?” The yelling only attracted more attention. More and more creatures gathered around her, murmuring things she couldn’t hear, the sounds drowned out by her increasingly rapid heart beat.
The whole reason she tried the music box was to stay with her friends. Without them, what was the point? Sure, she was in this incredible fantasy world, but without Anne? And Sasha? What did it matter? What was she supposed to do without them, what-
She was snapped out of her thoughts by a slimy, four fingered hand grabbing her shoulder. It pulled her around, and she found herself face to face with a cloaked creature, its eyes hidden behind its long nose and the shroud of its hood, it wordlessly dragged her towards its compatriots, and stuffed her onto the back of some sort of crab.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Marcy Wu loved to learn new things. If something caught her interest, she would strive to learn everything about it as soon as possible. In her first month in Amphibia, she took to studying everything she could about the city and its people. She blew through the Official Histories of Newtopia in three days. Amphibian architecture in one and a half. Amphibian political structure and nuance in four.
The next two months went by quickly, making recommendations, and putting her twenty-first century experiences to use, Marcy was starting to get a little restless. She needed something to do. Something to keep her busy, to keep her from thinking about the very noticeable absence of her best friends. So desperately did she want to leave the city, to search for the people she was trying so hard not to lose. But Marcy was still Marcy. Even if she had grown more confident and a little less clumsy, Amphibia was a dangerous place. The Royal Newtopian Army could search for her friends. But she still wanted to be the one to actually find them.
The crossbow was the perfect gift. A light weapon, something simple yet powerful, elegant yet reliable. It was a little bulkier than she expected, but it fit her aesthetic perfectly. Even better than the crossbow, was the promise that if she could master the weapon, she could finally, finally join the search for her friends.
She dove in with more energy and excitement than anything she’d ever done before. In less than a week, Marcy had exhausted the royal library of anything and everything related to archery. Techniques, the mechanics of crossbows, histories of famous newt archers, all absorbed with unbelievable vigor. Tomorrow, she would start her training, and then set off into the world to find her friends. She was Marcy Wu. She was in the zone like never before, and when she got in the zone, she was unstoppable.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Marcy grumbled in frustration as another shot went wide. She had spent the past week at the range with a half dozen different teachers, and she still couldn’t get the bolts to go where she wanted. She did everything her teachers told her, everything the books said, everything she was supposed to, and still only hit once every dozen shots. She loaded another bolt with familiar ease. At the very least, missing all the time made her really good at that.
She let another bolt fly, and watched another bolt fall short. This time, she yells in frustration, her anger and disappointment welling up and directed at herself. Her last teacher had left four hours ago, declaring the girl a lost cause, and she was starting to agree. She should be able to do this. She needs to be able to do this. So why the hell can't she?! She got her friends stuck here, in this wonderful, strange, dangerous land, and now they were lost, and she could do nothing about it. She’d never be able to do anything to help them.
A soft cough pulled her from her thoughts. She whirled around to see the kind face of Lady Olivia, and a tall, armour clad newt she’d never met.
“Master Marcy, I hope we’re not intruding,” Olivia said, her calm voice quieting Marcy’s internal turmoil. “I’d like to introduce you to a friend. This is Gen-”
“General Yunan!” the pink newt called suddenly. “Scourge of the Sand Wars, Slayer of Ragnar the Wretched, aaaand the youngest newt to ever achieve the rank of General in the Great Newtopian Army!” She cried with flourish, striking a new pose as she listed off each accomplishment.
Olivia let out a sigh. “Yes, right. Yunan here is something of a prodigy when it comes to fighting. Now, I know your last teachers weren’t the most helpful, but I thought it might be worth giving her a try.”
Marcy looked at the armoured amphibian warily. She turned away, trying to formulate a polite refusal in her mind, when her eyes gazed over the field of stray shots. For whatever reason, she still couldn’t figure this out, and as much as she wanted to avoid the shame of disappointing yet another mentor, she wanted to see her friends even more. With reluctance and a sigh, she accepted the offer.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Marcy Wu wasn’t a fan of teachers. She had found her last few instructors, on Earth and Amphibia, to be overbearing, their rules and procedures stifling. Back home, she took to her learning on her own, in her own way whenever she could. Having to listen to some authority figure blather aimlessly about what they thought the right way to learn was impossible for her.
At first, Yunan wasn’t much different.
A soldier through and through, the young general was stern and doctrinal. Her rigidness clashing with Marcy’s creativity and ever shifting attention. It didn’t take long for them to see this wasn’t going to work. But instead of giving up on her, as so many had before, Yunan instead changed herself. Slowly, and only marginally, but as time passed, the lessons became more and more open-ended. Instead of telling Marcy what to do, she offered guidance.
The system of guided freedom helped tremendously, but it still wasn’t enough. There was something about the crossbow itself that just refused to resonate with her. So she did what she did best. She took the crossbow to her room, and started tinkering. She destroyed the weapon, and re-built it to fit her. Instead of the medium sized, two-handed weapon, she had made it more compact, small enough to fit on her wrist. She modified the trigger to respond to the tensing of her wrist, and added hinges to the bow so she could close it when not in use.
She presented the weapon to her new mentor with anxiety. As supportive as Yunan had been, there had to be limits to how far she would let Marcy stray.
To her surprise and relief, the general wasn’t angry. She didn’t even seem too surprised. Just happy. Proud. “Here we are,” she cheered. “You’ve made it your own, found your own special path. Now, embrace it, nurture it, and one day, when you’ve mastered it, you might even be as good as me, the great General Yunan!”
They spent the next week developing a new style of fighting, one tailored to Marcy’s unique design and way of thinking. Soon, Marcy was a prodigy, quickly mastering the new style she and Yunan had made. She had even made a real connection with Yunan, and it filled her with confidence whenever the general mentioned how proud she was of all Marcy’s work.
Soon, she would step out into the world as a changed person, eager to face the challenges of this strange land, and finally take a shot at finding her friends. She still stumbled and fell, but she didn’t miss.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – –
They crashed through the ceiling with explosive force. She felt her gaze shift around the room. Sasha was lying unconscious. Anne was pinned under the remains of a support pillar, tears rolling down her face. Marcy watched through orange hues as her arm rose, crossbow pointed at her best friend, battered and bloody.
Her friends had risked their lives for her. They had let themselves lose, because they didn't want to hurt her. Marcy sure as hell wasn’t about to let herself hurt them.
As her anger, concern, and desperation grew, she faintly noticed her hair begin to glow, the orange tint in her eyes turning ever so slightly green, and felt a semblance of control over her arms. She strained, focused all her effort on turning the weapon away, and for the briefest second, she felt a pang of fear that was not her own. Through the rubble and dust, she could barely make out a large shape, absently breathing behind Anne.
This is it, she thought. She could feel the other presence shifting as she put it together. That thing, that breathing, shadowy mass is what's in her head. What's making her hurt her friends.
Two wills clashed throughout her body, arm trembling as it was forced in two directions. This was it. This shot would decide her fate, the fate of her friends. It was up to her now. And she wouldn’t miss.
She let the bolt fly.