Chapter 59 (Patreon)

Ishtar stood in front of the screen, her mask strangely not reflecting the glowing surface, even in the dark. The call she was making was a long time coming, she hadn’t had enough time to check in and it was better late than never. The room, a small office adjacent to her bedroom in the apartment, was kept intentionally sparse in order to make it difficult to tell where she was. Maybe it was her lifestyle in her past life, constantly going from one place from another and living a near-military life, but she’d never been one for decorations in her workspace. Affluence and decadence were for leisure areas, distractions were not permitted when she was working.

The screen flickered once and a familiar face appeared. The pretty face of Bernetta Lucci looking more than a little nervous as she returned Ishtar’s gaze for a heartbeat before inclining her head and placing her hand over her heart.

“Mistress Ishtar,” The woman greeted, “I’ve been looking forward to hearing from you.”

“Bernetta,” Ishtar said, “How are you?”

The woman looked surprised by the pleasantry but quickly recovered, her expression steeling, “Things are progressing well, I-”

Ishtar held up her hand, “I asked how you are, Bernetta, we’ll get to that.”

The woman frowned, puzzled, Ishtar could understand how perplexed she was. Ishtar wasn’t exactly a person who appeared to enjoy pleasantries or care in any way about the personal well being of those beneath her. She considered for a moment before letting out a breath and appearing to make some kind of decision, “You have given me quite the task, Mistress. I have a lot to do, but I am taking care of myself. I am in good health, though.”

Ishtar supposed that was good enough, “I’ll have to properly reward you for your efforts, Bernetta. I look after my own, be sure to take breaks now and then and enjoy the fruits of your labor. You’re no good to me if you are burned out.”

The woman looked taken aback yet again and blinked a few times before easing into a far more relaxed posture, a smile even crossing her features and a sparkle coming to her eyes. “I… thank you, Mistress. I won’t forget you said that.”

Ishtar inclined her head, “Your progress?”

The woman nodded, more relaxed now, “Fortunately I’ve had only a little trouble corralling the members of the club, some of them seemed less than interested in holding up their end of the bargain but it was nothing I couldn’t handle with a little pressure from the other members. Those two agents you gifted me have also been serving their purpose quite nicely.”

“Verde and Veloce, no trouble with them?” Ishtar asked with a nod.

“None at all, they obey without question, I’d like to have more like them at my disposal,” Bernetta chuckled.

“Do some window shopping, then,” Ishtar said casually, “If there are any unlicensed light-touched you think are worth taking in, I’ll give you a hand.”

The woman blinked again, endlessly surprised it seemed, and nodded, “Thank you for your support, mistress, I’ll come up with a list.”

“Good, now I have something for you to bring to the club,” Ishtar began, finally getting down to business.

“I’m all ears,” Bernetta said.

What followed was a full overview of dungeons, and not just the bare bones information that Amos had. She divulged everything from the value of dungeons to the trick of not destroying the boss in order to turn them into an endless source of profit and materials. She explained how they worked, what caused them to burst, and the consequences therein. She even gave a rough timetable of which European dungeons would be the first to become problematic. She did not explain how she knew any of this, though.

Bernetta rubbed her chin, “We’ll need these radars as soon as possible,” She said.

“I have about a hundred ready,” Ishtar said, “I’ve already sent you a portion, they should arrive in a few days. Make sure they’re set up at the locations on the document that comes with them,” Ishtar added, getting a nod from the woman. “Now comes the more important part of this conversation.”

The woman tilted her head and Ishtar elaborated, “The club will need to operate indirectly through their guilds. The heroes need experience and dungeons are an easy way to foster that, make sure to encourage competition between the various guilds but keep it friendly. I will not tolerate unhealthy rivalries.”

“Is there a reason we are not using privately contracted light-touched, ma’am?” Bernetta asked after a moment of thought. “Licensed heroes are not beholden to their sponsors. They could take the resources for themselves.”

“They have a right to the treasures within the dungeons that they engage in,” Ishtar said with a nod, “But the average hero has no use for the material goods within. They can attempt to sell it, but I doubt they’ll find much success without going through illegal channels which will be problematic for individuals under a great deal of public scrutiny.”

“But not impossible,” Bernetta said with a nod, “It would be easier for them to allow us to send in crews to retrieve resources behind them and give them a cut, saving them time and effort.”

“Glad you catch on,” Ishtar said with a nod, “Yes. As for the contracts they are currently under, I will be personally writing up new contracts to feature this clause and sending them to you for your use. They will be far more… binding than a traditional contract for both sides. Cheating the heroes is a good way to bring potentially insurmountable problems that neither of us want to deal with.”

The woman mulled it over before nodding again, “As you say. I’ll relay all of this to the club and we’ll take steps, when should we act?”

“Prepare for now, make sure all of our bases are covered. Information on the dungeons will go public soon and then we can act without too much suspicion,” Ishtar said, “No earlier though.”

“I understand, we’ll stay above board as much as possible, mistress,” Bernetta agreed, clearly understanding her meaning. The more legal they appeared, the more control they would have over the narrative and the public perception of what they were doing. More importantly, the less trouble it would cause for Sonya.

Ishtar paused. When did I start thinking of Sonya as a separate person? Odd. She rephrased the statement in her mind. The less trouble it would cause me. She mentally reaffirmed that. I am Sonya but also Ishtar.

Bernetta seemed to notice Ishtar’s momentary pause and tilted her head, “Is there something else, Mistress?”

Ishtar blinked behind her mask and quickly recovered, grasping abruptly at the first thing that came to mind in order to cover her concerns about her own mental health. It obviously couldn’t be a lie, so it had to be something that was truly on her mind. “I was curious about how that girl was doing, the one Sonya gave to you,” She said.

Her agent in Europe smiled at the question, “It’s kind of you to ask after her, she’s remarkable, I had seen a bit of her talent when she visited with me during your visit, but now she has flourished. An extraordinary young woman, I’m glad that Miss Chernovna brought her to me. She has experimented a bit with hero costumes recently after Hero Day.”

Ishtar felt a bit of tension in her chest release and she nodded, “I’ll send some monster-based textiles to you for her to play with, perhaps she can come up with some examples?”

Bernetta grew even brighter, “My, that’s not a bad idea. I wouldn’t mind styling her as a designer of hero gear. Being one of the first could come with a great deal of prestige.”

Ishtar couldn’t restrain the smile behind her mask, name brand hero costumes were quite popular in the previous timeline and the more famous designers held a great deal of clout. Stylish and functional costume designs that became even more extraordinary as humanity learned to use cores and mana crystals to infuse unique properties into materials. She’d have to get Mikayla and Amos to exchange notes at some point. “Go with that route,” She said finally.

“It’ll be done, Mistress,” Bernetta said with a slight bow before straightening, “Will that be all?”

“Yes, keep up the good work,” Ishtar said and with a wave of her hand, she cut the connection.

She tore off her helmet and took a breath, looking down at it, her chest heaving. What the hell was that earlier? She thought, running her thumb over the surface, the eerie eyes made of individual LEDs gleaming a bit brighter in the muted reflection of her own glowing eyes. She moved back to her desk and sat down, leaning back and examining the helmet. She let out a sigh and set the helmet aside, resting her head in her hands. Even with her eyes closed, her HUD still displayed that her body was in peak physical condition.

Nothing about my mind, though, huh? She thought with amusement. Nothing I can do. Keep going.

She sat up and rested her head on the back of the chair. “I need a soda.”

–

Marta stood at the door for a few moments, just watching her. Sonya had fallen asleep at her desk, again, her head tilted forward against her palm and her hair splayed about. Her helmet was sitting right next to her, carelessly out in the open. She shook her head and walked over, picking up the helmet and looking down at the sleek black surface before looking over at Sonya. She walked over to the cubby where Sonya kept the helmet hidden and popped it open, slipping it inside before shutting it.

She returned to her friend’s side. Sonya’s eyes were sunken, her limbs thin, her fingers looked worn, every bit of her looked hollow in this brief moment of defenselessness. For just a moment, Marta saw the young woman she had been caring for before the flash. A woman who was passionate, fun, playful, but ultimately beaten down by what had happened to her. Sonya had rarely left the house and kept to herself most days, wallowing behind a mask of pleasantness. Once again, Marta wondered if her new persona was just another mask.

Two masks… she thought, glancing over at the closed cubby.

She tried a little to remember the day the flash happened as she had many times before, tried to remember exactly how Sonya had behaved, her mannerisms, her face, anything to clue her in on what had changed that day. Sonya seemed to simply know things and had become more than just the competent but defeated young woman she had been. Sonya was different. Marta was still convinced she’d seen the future somehow, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why the thought wasn’t quite right. Something about that theory was just wrong.

She sighed, there was no point in dwelling on it, and every time she considered broaching the topic, she could feel Sonya slipping from her fingers like a specter. She’d leave. Marta had little doubt of that. Worse, if Sonya did leave, Marta feared that spark of brightness and playfulness would die forever.

I can’t let that happen, Marta reaffirmed and gently knelt down to scoop Sonya up in her arms. The young woman simply lulled a little and rest her head against Marta’s chest, a bit of drool nothing to worry about. She smiled at the sleeping woman. For someone so thin, you sure are heavy, Marta thought with amusement. I wish I could blame all that snacking, but you won’t listen, will you?

She turned away and started walking towards the door leading into Sonya’s bedroom. She pushed it open and slipped inside. Sonya stirred a little and blinked, looking up at Marta’s face with those glowing eyes of hers. They seemed dimmer than usual.

“Did I fall asleep again?” Sonya asked, her words coming out slow and slurred.

“You did,” Marta said, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Mkay,” Sonya mumbled and leaned forward, resting her head against Marta’s chest again, “Marta?”

“Mm?” Marta reached her bed and easily holding Sonya with one hand pulled the sheets back. 

“Am I still Sonya?” Sonya asked, clearly still half asleep.

Marta looked down at her, a lump forming in her throat that felt like it came from nowhere. She hadn’t imagined that Sonya was having those kinds of fears. Either face she wore, she always seemed so confident. She forced a smile onto her face as Sonya looked up at her again, so tired, so small like this. “You most assuredly are, look, I’m still having to put you to bed. You know, most people with disabilities don’t have this problem.”

Sonya’s lips twitched into a small grin and the light in her eyes bloomed a bit more, “Yeah well, I have you, don’t I?” She mumbled as Marta set her down and pulled the sheet up before rolling over and closing her eyes again.

“You sure do,” Marta said and ran her fingers through the sleeping woman’s hair. “No matter what.”

–

Sonya could kind-of remember that she’d woken up briefly before slipping into the realm of her dreams again. Initially the dreams had been languid, distorted, and muddled as they tended to be. This time, however, she felt that tell-tale sensation of realism settle in as her mind suddenly sharpened within the distinct space that were her memories. She still hadn’t figured out exactly how she was able to access her memories like this, let alone interact with them, but she assumed it was some combination of her cybernetic brain and her enhanced senses and processing ability.

Not that she was happy about it.

Reliving memories of the past timeline this vividly wasn’t a pleasant thing for her. While it provided her insights and details that she could take advantage of, it also reminded her more clearly of just how badly things had gone last time around. Frankly, she resented it.

Fortunately, or not-so-fortunately depending on how one interpreted it. This particular dream was going to be a short one. She already knew what was coming when she found herself standing in the safe-house she and Chunhua had operated out of with the other anti-divine heroes near the beginning of the war. She looked down and recognized the dress she was wearing, she felt the knife strapped to her leg, she could even smell the particular spices that the cook had been using this morning for breakfast. Supplies weren’t an issue yet.

It was all the same. Which made it all the worse. She knew what was coming next as the phone chimed in her pocket with the tone alerting her to a routine report.

She closed her eyes and tried to remind herself that this was a dream, a memory, and that she had a chance to change everything. 

She pulled out her phone anyway and tapped the screen and read the report, just to get this literal living nightmare over with.

SHELTER 55 HAS BEEN LOST: NO SURVIVORS

HOSTILE PARTY IDENTIFIED AS THE AMETHYST ORDER

Marta was dead.

Sonya swallowed thickly and narrowed her eyes at the message.

“Amethyst…” She trailed off and her teeth clenched together. She’d forgotten. How could she have forgotten that detail? She crushed the phone in her hand, ignoring the blood dripping on the floor. “Feng Hyunh!” She snarled, and the dream ended.