Midnight Metropolis: Chapter Thirteen (1/4)

Fungal Fury Thursday

Caroline Barnard-Smith

Jan 24, 2025

A serialised novel of sunless planets, hallucinogenic mushrooms, daemons, and... pizza rats. 🍕🐀

New chapters posted every Friday! Scroll to the bottom for content warnings.

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On the night of the heist, the night Ginx had secretly been calling Fungal Fury Thursday, the streets were oddly quiet. It was as though Noctara’s residents somehow knew violent hijinks were imminent and had decided to stay indoors. Ginx was grateful. She’d planned to meet Tattie and Brax in front of the giant glass trees in Palm Plaza, not far from the Noctarum, and the peaceful walk would give her time to clear out the nervous buzzing in her brain. That was why, when Luke stepped out from a doorway at the end of her road, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him.

“Ginx,” he said, “I was going to see if you were home.”

“So why are you hanging about here?” Her tone was sharper than she’d meant it to be. Luke had surprised her. She stepped back a pace, pulling the deep hood of her jacket further over her face.

Luke scuffed a toe against the pavement. “This looks weird, doesn’t it? Full confession time, I was working out what to say to you.”

“What needed working out?” She repositioned herself, leaning away from the orange light of a street lamp cutting tangerine shapes through the creeping dark.

“Well, you weren’t in a good place last time I saw you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

So he fancies you now. How endearing.

Ginx studied Luke, her heart turning over with a dull lurch. He did seem nervous. He was finding it hard to meet her gaze and his hands were fidgeting in his pockets. For one minuscule, silver-edged moment, Ginx was elated. She had never dared believe the softly smiling, tattooed musician with the easy conversation would ever take an interest; not in her, at any rate. She had always felt so ordinary in his presence.

A fumbled smile snapped Ginx back to reality when her mouth-splits rippled in response. Luke could never take a twin-tentacled flesh host into his arms. He wouldn’t want to kiss a mouth bisected with deeply carved rents that opened like a venomous flower whenever she was furious. That future had belonged to another woman.

A weaker woman.

“I’m fine,” Ginx said. “You didn’t need to come.”

Luke glanced at her, uncertain and confused. He began to move closer and she took another step back, careful not to stray into the naked glare of the street lamp.

“Well, if that’s how you feel.”

He left the statement open, no doubt hoping she would fill the ensuing space with platitudes and reassurances. Ginx turned to cross the street.

“I’ll be seeing you,” she threw back over her retreating shoulder.

Luke didn’t reply.

A clean break is good. If things go well, we’ll soon be free of this hideous planet. Then you’ll never have to worry about your musician ever setting eyes on our beautiful new face.

Ginx pulled her jacket tighter around herself and kept walking, the bag of gifted mushroom flesh she’d insisted on keeping hold of bouncing against her back. The weight was oddly reassuring. She was going to claw her way into the Noctarum tonight. She was going to rescue Toni and convince Tattie to let them stow away on the Void Ranger she hadn’t shut up talking about, and then none of this would matter.

“And what about Flannigan’s wives? Flannigan has a lot of mouths to feed.”

“Maybe Flannigan should have kept his dick in his pants,” Tattie said.

Ginx turned on her, exasperated. “Do you mind, Tat? You’re not helping.”

Tattie blew out a breath and walked away in the direction of the skaterat basin. The Plaza’s colossal glass palm trees threw jetting arms of icy blue and raspberry-pink light across the square. They caught Tattie’s left side, illuminating her face and casting vivid neon highlights through the black tangles of her hair. Brax refrained from following for a full half second before jogging to catch up, while Ginx turned back to Flannigan and propped both elbows on the greasy chrome surface of his pizza stall.

“Ignore her,” she said. “She’s tense.”

Flannigan grunted disinterested acknowledgment. “This thing you’re asking me to do is fool crazy,” he said. “It’s going to cost more than what you’re offering. A lot more.”

Ginx gestured at the echoing expanse of Palm Plaza. The shops and most of the stalls were shuttered for the night. The thrusting arcs of the eternal palm trees were lone sentinels, guarding curling litter and scattered rat shit.

“You’ve hardly got a rush on,” she said. “This place is a ghost town. Come on, Flannigan, I know you need the credits.”

As if to drive home her point, a solitary skaterat chose that moment to rumble across the basin, the rasp of his board’s motor echoing like mountain thunder between the glass-fronted buildings. Flannigan narrowed tired eyes at her, pursed rubbery lips.

“And all I have to do is fry some mushroom?”

“Yes,” Ginx said. “Just like you do every day. Except these mushrooms aren’t going on a pizza.”

“No, you want these boiled out and cut up like protein squares. Sounds disgusting.” Flanigann’s face creased at the thought of it, slick with grease beneath the hard wash of pizza stall neon.

“You’re saving on crust, and I’m providing most of the fungus,” Ginx said.

She knew she had him. She could practically see him counting up the credits in his head, divvying it out to each wife, calculating how much he’d be left with. Ginx pulled her bag open and lifted out the stalk flesh. It was heavy, still faintly wet and sticky with mushroom plasma. She slid it onto the counter and peeled away the vinyl she’d wrapped it in.

“That stinks,” Flannigan said. “You sure it hasn’t gone off?”

“No, it’s just potent.” Ginx waited expectantly while Flannigan deliberated touching it.

“I know you’re up to something dodgy,” he finally said. “This ain't no ordinary request, and that ain't no ordinary cap meat.”

Ginx pushed the package further across the counter. It left dewy yellow leakage in its wake.

“Just do it,” she wheedled. “I’ve always tipped, haven’t I? I’m one of your best customers.”

She realised Flanigann was staring and ducked away from the stall lights, shrinking further into the hood of her jacket. If he noticed the mouth-splits, he might try to back out again.

“You only tip because I never say nothing about that poison you sneak into your coffee.” Flannigan crossed his arms over his aproned front, but he was smiling.

“You mean the stim?” Ginx shook her head remembering it. She hadn’t touched the stuff since bonding with the daemon.

I’m all the stim you need now.

Flanigann picked up the wedge of mushroom meat. He hefted it in his large hands, marvelling at the unique weight, then shrugged and threw it down on a chopping board.

“Five dozen revolting protein bricks coming up,” he said. “This is one weird party you’re planning, kid.”

Midnight Metropolis: Chapter Thirteen (1/4)

Fungal Fury Thursday

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