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Mike rolled his neck and shoulders, eliciting a series of pops and cracks. “Are we still on Earth? Man, I’ve heard of fu-“ He chuffed as Chelle jabbed him, hard and fast, in the gut knocking the wind out of him. He rolled his eyes and fell backward. “Ow. What the?” He sat back up, looking down at himself and then the others. “We … are not home…”
The others were starting to see it and feel it too. Chelle’s hands, and arms, were steel. Crafted to look human their polished chrome exterior alone game them away. Instead of the floral blouse she had worn before, she wore a tactical vest, festooned with knives, that bared her steel limbs to the shoulder where they met with flesh.
“Umm, Chelle, your ears,” PJ said pointing, before noticing the thickness of his own fingers, the blunt nail and the crude tribal tattoo that curled up the back of his hand and disappeared into the sleeve of a coat. He frowned and his tongue crept out and explored the two jutting tusks emerging from his jaw.
Mike started prodding at the dozens of small items dangling from his coat. “What’s going on? Where are we?” Memories were starting to trickle into his mind, years of studying magic theory and practice.
“We’re in Seattle, but it’s not the one we left,” Kate said. She called up an AR database even before she realized she could, and dismissed it just as quickly as her memories started to fill in on their own. She turned and looked at her companions; a cybered-up elf, an orc with the crude markings of their own tribal adept coteries, and Mike, who looked little different except the magic foci that festooned his long coat. “Take a look outside.”