Apocalypse Tamer

A door stood between Basil and his mother.

It was small as far as doors were concerned, and made with old wood partially rotten in some places. The rest of the house didn’t look any better from the outside. The wall paint peeled in some places and cracks marred one of the windows. The small garden that surrounded it was the best-maintained part of the property, with perfectly cut grass and a flower bed near the entrance. Basil had inherited his love of gardening from his mother; she always favored tulips, but this time she had added roses to her floral composition.

The Swords of Saint George had granted his mother a small house in the city’s suburbs, as befitting of a VIP’s family. She lived alone for now, but the influx of refugees would force her to take in more people. Basil knew his mother would mind. This house held more space than she ever had in her life, and she would be loath to share it.

“Basil?” Vasi tugged his sleeve. He had traded his armor for more casual clothes, and he felt defenseless in them. “How long are you going to stand there?”

Basil took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

Basil had fought a monster taller than the Eiffel Tower on foot, so why did a door he could shatter with a punch intimidate him so much?

He looked over his shoulder at his assembled party. While Steve had to stay in a fortified area due to his size and Kalki’s allies dealt with their leader’s current gloominess, Basil had brought the rest of the Bohens with him to the visit.

Everyone had made an effort to dress up correctly as per Basil’s personal instructions: Plato traded his Simba costume for a bow tie, which he usually hated; Shellgirl used her shapeshifting abilities and borrowed clothes to look halfway like a normal person; Rosemarine, in her chibi form, wagged her tail like a dog impatient to meet a new owner; and Bugsy… Bugsy had put on a rounded hat and a scarf. Basil thought it would make him look less intimidating, but you could only do so much when you were a giant firebug.

I should have given him glasses, Basil thought. Mom always thinks people with glasses are smarter than usual. At least the hat and scarf make him look distinguished.

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” Basil cleared his throat. “I don’t know how she’s going to react.”

“She’ll love me,” Plato replied immediately. “Once I give her the kitten stare, she’ll forgive everything I do.”

Of that Basil had no doubt. It was the rest of his team he worried about.

“Boss, we can leave if you don’t want to spook her,” Bugsy said. He clearly would prefer to stay, but he respected his Tamer not to bother him on such an important day. “I mean, I never had a mother. I don’t understand how these things work.”

“Aww, but I want to see who fed Mister, who has fed me in turn,” Rosemarine complained. “We are bound by the food chain.”

“I should put the glamor spell back on,” Vasi said. She had switched clothes, leaving her sorceress robes behind for more comfortable, casual black clothes. She still looked very stylish with a scarf. “Showing my horns on the first meeting might be a little too much.”

“No, it’s fine,” Basil said. He had insisted that his girlfriend did not disguise herself when meeting his mother. He wasn’t ashamed of her, or any member of his party. “You all stay.”

“You’re sure?” Vasi asked nervously. Basil realized that she was as scared of his mother rejecting her as he was.

“Yes, I am.” Basil smiled at his team. “Thank you all for coming.”

“Why?” Shellgirl mused. “We’re the ones who should thank you, Partner. You invited us.”

“Go on,” Plato encouraged his best friend with a swipe of his paw. “She isn’t a lion. She can’t eat us.”

Basil wisely decided not to tell him that his mother was probably even less picky about her food than he was. Mustering his courage, he raised a hand and knocked on the door.

“Coming!” a familiar voice came from the other side. Basil hadn’t heard it in years, yet it filled his heart with warmth as if no time had passed since. Vasi wrapped her arm around his own, her fingers shaking with anxiety.

Basil held his breath as his mother opened the door.

For a split second, he struggled to recognize the middle-aged woman in front of him. Aleksandra Bohen had always been a small, chubby woman as far as her son could remember. The person that opened the door had lost at least twenty kilos. Her formerly blonde hair had grayed out completely and the wrinkles around her eyes had grown crustier with age. She wore a parka to protect herself from the frost with holes in it, and the cap had been sewn back together multiple times. Some things never changed.

Aleksandra Bohen

Level 21 [Humanoid] (Merchant 16/Gardener 5)

Party: None.

Time had changed Aleksandra Bohen, as it had changed her son; and yet they recognized each other the moment their eyes met. Basil opened his mouth, trying to think of something clever or heartwarming. He couldn’t. Simpler words flowed out of his mouth instead.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, his tone breaking. “I’m back.”

She answered by hugging him.

He saw it coming—at this point his stats were so high he could dodge bullets—and didn’t stop her. Her arms closed around his chest and her head buried itself on his chest. His mother barely reached up to his neck. She felt so small and fragile, yet so heavy.

“Basil, is that you?” she muttered with tears raining down her cheek. His silence only made her squeeze him harder. “It’s really you… you’re alive…”

Vasi let go of Basil’s arm and he gently embraced his mother back. She smelled of tulips, dust, and old memories. His body warmed up in spite of the cold winter wind. All his fears, all his doubts born of unspoken words he never got around to say out loud… all of them vanished in an instant.

“It’s me,” he whispered kindly. “I’m back.”

He loved his mother, and she loved him back. Not even the apocalypse had changed this state of things. That was all that mattered.

“I thought… I thought you had died…” His mother looked up at him, wiping away her tears. “I wanted to call you, but they told me communications were broken… it was horrible, there were dragons everywhere…”

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” Basil whispered. “I’ve got so much to tell you.”

“I know… I know.” Aleksandra smiled as she broke the hug, only for it to falter when she suddenly noticed the other people present. “My… is that a giant centipede I see behind you?”

“Hello, Mrs. Bohen!” Bugsy jovially bowed as well as a colossal bug monster could. “I am so happy to meet you!”

“Mother.” Basil cleared his throat. Now was the moment of truth; the instant he had dreaded for the last hour. “Let me introduce you to my party. The big bug is, well, Bugsy.”

“The Boss named me himself,” Bugsy boasted.

“I can tell,” Aleksandra replied with a hearty laugh; something which Basil took as a good sign. His mother’s eyes quickly wandered to Rosemarine, and she was immediately charmed. “Is this a flower lizard?”

“I’m Rosemarine,” the tropidrake replied joyfully. “I eat people!”

“Only the rotten ones,” Basil said hastily before presenting the less controversial members of his team. “Here’s Plato, my dwarf panther turned tiger prince.”

“I’m both,” Plato replied proudly. “I’m king’s blood. I can multitask titles.”

“We had a cat just like you once,” Aleksandra said, bowing slightly to scratch Plato under his head. The feline tried to look haughty and disinterested, but his wagging tail betrayed his feelings. “So proud and well-behaved.”

“Shellgirl,” Basil said, introducing his favorite entrepreneur. “The richest of us all.”

“They bust skulls, I cash in,” the mimic joked.

“And last but not least,” Basil smiled warmly at his dearest companion. “Vasi… my girlfriend.”

“I am greatly pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bohen,” Vasi said with a courteous bow and a gentle smile. “Basil spoke so much about you.”

“My, what a lovely young woman.” Much to Basil’s relief, his mother didn’t show any apprehension at Vasi’s demonic appearance. Instead, she took his girlfriend’s hands into her own. “Is he treating you well? Many boys grow up being pushy with women, so I tried to teach my son to be more respectful.”

“If you ask me, you succeeded too well,” Vasi replied with a chuckle. “I had to send him so many subtle messages before he took the hint.”

“I had given up hope to see him settle down.” Aleksandra lightly pinched Basil’s cheek. “I see you already put a ring on her finger! I hope you didn’t do dirty things before marriage!”

“Mother, stop it,” Basil protested, blushing like a tomato. His team couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not a child anymore!”

“Oh, Basil, you will always be my child,” she replied upon letting him go. “But please, don’t stand outside here in the cold! Come inside, I have pastries.”

Vasi, whose sweet tooth was legendary, smiled ear to ear. “I can already tell we will get along just fine, Madame.”

“You’re taking this much better than I thought,” Basil told his mother as he stepped past the threshold. “I expected you to faint upon seeing us.”

“Oh Basil, I’ve watched dragons and demons battle above my house.” His mother chuckled. “I’ve had time to adapt. Mr. Nicholae told me you had become a Tamer, so I figured you would travel with colorful friends.”

“That’s one way to describe us, I guess,” Shellgirl mused. She squinted at Bugsy as he attempted to follow her inside. “Ugh, are you sure you can fit through the door?”

“No, but I can dig a path!” Bugsy suggested helpfully.

“I’ve got a better solution.” Instead of watching him ruin his mother’s floorboard, Basil wisely summoned the same size-reduction potion he’d used on Rosemarine and tossed it to Bugsy. A few gulps later, and the volcanipede slithered inside the house no larger than Plato; clothes included. “Much better.”

“You can ride on my back if you want, Bugsy,” Rosemarine said kindly. “Together, we will rule the garden!”

Bugsy passed on the offer and Basil closed the door behind them all. His mother’s new house was as small as the exterior suggested; René’s old home would have looked like a mansion in comparison. The dining room was just large enough to let the full group sit around a creaking wooden table next to a communism-era fridge, old kitchen appliances, and a dusty washing machine. Everything about the place screamed ‘salvaged.’

Still, his mother had managed to make her new dwelling look halfway cozy. She had placed plants in various corners of the room and put on photos on the various appliances. One of them immediately caught Basil’s attention.

Whereas the rest of his team sat around the table, he stood there staring at the old picture. It showed his father Dragan with his wife and five-years old son, all smiling at the viewer. It astonished Basil how much he was starting to look like his sire as he advanced in age. Dragan was leaner due to lack of exercise and wore a short beard back then, but he shared the same facial features as his son.

“You kept it?” Basil asked as he sat at the table with the photo in hand. In spite of all the mixed feelings he held towards his father, seeing him again filled him with a sense of nostalgia.

“It’s the only one I could take with me,” his mother replied gloomily as she distributed plates and cups to everyone. Some had cracks in them, but nobody complained. “I lost the rest in Varna.”

“I want to see!” Rosemarine pleaded as she looked at the photo. “Mister, you have grown so much!”

“I wonder what Type he started as,” Bugsy said naively.

“My, you do look a lot like your father, Handsome,” Vas noted.

“Are you kidding?” Shellgirl chuckled. “Look at him! He’s Basil with less muscles and a beard!”

“It reassures me,” Vasi told Basil with a coy smile on her face. “You’ll still look good in a decade or so.”

Basil smirked, but only a little. He wasn’t all too eager to see his father’s face when he looked into a mirror. “I’m still going to shave every morning.”

“Do you want tea?” Aleksandra asked the group. “Or coffee with milk? I don’t have much.”

Plato immediately started making demands. “I’ll only take milk if there’s honey in it. I have expensive tastes.”

“I do not have honey, but I have sugar and cookies,” Aleksandra replied. She swiftly distributed the latter to the group and eventually served her son a coffee cup. “You should have warned me about your arrival, Basil. I would have brought more food and drinks.”

“I didn’t know you were in this city one hour ago,” Basil said as he returned the photo to its usual spot. “I thought you were still in Varna.”

“Varna…” His mother scowled. “It was horrible, my son. The dragons burned down our house and the shop too. They even shattered your father’s ash urn, the brutes.”

Basil’s jaw tightened in anger. He had little love left for his father, but he wouldn’t stand by his remains’ desecration. “We’re going to turn them all into handbags, mom,” he promised her as he sipped his coffee. “Just you wait.”

It only made Aleksandra’s scowl deepen. “I would rather that you stay safe, Basil. No mother should outlive her son.”

Basil winced at her words, though Shellgirl immediately went to his defense. “Honestly, I wouldn’t worry too much about that, ma’am. We’ve killed like, a thousand people.”

“And we ate them all,” Rosemarine chirped happily.

“Yes, I’ve heard you’ve become war heroes, but… I’ve seen so many people die already… all my neighbors…” Aleksandra’s voice broke and tears formed in her eyes. “I…”

“Mom, it’s okay,” Basil said, immediately trying to reassure his mother. He brought a handkerchief from his inventory and helped her wipe away the tears. “It’s okay. I swear, you don’t have to worry. I won’t kick the bucket anytime soon.”

“I haven’t seen you in years and… the day you return home, it’s to wage war.” His mother gave him the saddest look he had ever seen. “Why didn’t you call? Even before… you stopped calling me for years.”

Basil shamefully stared down at his coffee. A tense silence stretched on, as none of his teammates dared to say a word.

“I thought you were ashamed of me,” he admitted. “When I failed to get a job… I just couldn’t face you afterward. I knew you’d stopped believing in me.”

“No, I…” His mother’s mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find her words. “I never stopped believing in you.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Basil replied with a sigh. “You told me I should get state benefits instead of looking for work. As far as confidence goes, it’s not a tall mark.”

“No, I… I didn’t mean it that way.” She vehemently shook her head. “I just wanted you to find your footing. I knew you would pull through.”

Basil didn’t answer; he knew she was only saying these things to make him feel better, but her actions spoke louder than words. Not that he blamed her too much. He had failed to become a productive member of society, that was a fact. As the Maleking had pointed out, he owed his current status to the Apocalypse and nothing else. Without it, he would have probably died as a hermit in the woods with nothing to his name.

Vasi, who had listened without commenting, took his hand into her own. Her fingers were soft, and when he raised his head to meet her eyes she gave him a short nod of comfort. Aleksandra watched the scene with a little smile.

“Your father and I had very good times in the early years,” she said, playing with her spoon. “He was very much like you when you were eager, so strong-willed and full of hope. For a time, we were very happy together. It’s only later that he grew bitter.”

Basil snorted. “That he turned to alcohol, you mean?”

“Your father tried to ease his pain the best he could,” his mother replied with a heavy sigh. “Whether under the communists or the republic, our family has always been poor. Dragan worked very hard to lift us out of poverty. I’ve lost count of all the business ideas we went through. But it was never enough, and eventually the failures ate at him. He retreated into himself and closed his heart.”

Plato sent Basil a meaningful glance. He hadn’t missed the implications. Basil too had fled in the face of failure; he had run from society, from others, and even from himself. He had retreated to the woods, trying to reject the world rather than become hurt by it.

His father preferred the bottom of a bottle over a forest, but his son hadn’t reacted any better than he did.

“I didn’t want you to fall down into the same spiral,” his mother whispered as she looked into her cup. “That’s all.”

“He did not,” Vasi reassured her. “He rose to the occasion and more. Your son is a hero, Mrs. Bohen.”

“That’s right,” Shellgirl added with a grin. “He even got a medal!”

Aleksandra looked at her son with pride. “You did?”

Basil nodded slowly and then summoned the Legion D’Honneur medal General Leblanc had given him in Paris. His mother’s expression beamed with joy when she saw it; she knew all too well what it represented. Watching her expression warmed up Basil’s heart in a way too intense to describe.

“It’s why I worked very hard to send you to France to study,” Aleksandra said. “Your father wanted to send you to Austria, but I told him: ‘no, the Austrians are all racists, they don’t respect Bulgarians! Always blaming us for immigrants! France is the country of culture! The French will treat him better, and learning the language will make him look smarter!’”

“Austria is a fine country, Mother,” Basil replied. His team had briefly visited it on their way to Hungary. The locals had struck him as quite friendly and respectful. “Its population has bad apples like every country on Earth, but most of them are like you and I. I think you would like living in Vienna… if it were affordable.”

And though Basil didn’t feel too bitter over it, he had faced prejudice in France now and then. Many people there disliked Eastern Europeans like him, seeing them as welfare parasites, criminals, or job-stealers. Basil hadn’t gotten too many comments, but he remembered each of them.

Still, General Leblanc had put this medal on his chest after he had earned it. This medal represented the defeat of Apollyon, the salvation of France, and the victory of mankind over the forces that had tried to destroy it.

Would Simeon give him another medal once he had kicked the Unity out of Bulgaria? As he looked at his mother, Basil realized that he didn’t care either way. Freeing his homeland and making his mother proud was reward enough.

“How did you earn this?” his mother asked. “You must tell me everything.”

“That’s a long story,” Basil admitted. “It’ll take all day.”

“We’ll take turns narrating it,” Plato mused. “It starts with me saving your life from Bugsy over here.”

Bugsy lowered his head in shame and buried his shame in cookies. “Can we skip forward a bit? To the better parts?”

“Hey, hey, let me do it,” Shellgirl declared with a bright smile. “I've been working on improving our rep for months. I’ve sharpened storytelling into an art!”

Aleksandra chuckled as Shellgirl began an outrageously glorious–and barely exaggerated—version of the Bohens’ rise to power and fame. Her smile delighted her son as he sipped his coffee.

Basil was home again.

And it felt good.