The Daily Grind - Chapter 109 (Patreon)

Better late than never?  Maybe?

Man, I just gotta get faster at these.

_____

“When does You-Three get back?”  James was asking Anesh, as the two of them rode the elevator down to whichever basement hosted their dangerous wildlife containment zone.  There was a greater than fifty percent chance that it was the one they were on the way to, because Anesh had pushed the button, but it was still a bit of a gamble.  Despite over half their active members having now been equipped with the purple that boosted short term memory, it was *still* weirdly difficult to keep track of the basements.

“I actually don’t know.”  Anesh admitted.  “We haven’t been in touch much.  I’ve kind of gotten used to long trips at this point, so if there’s nothing important to say, I don’t text myself or anything.  And it might surprise you to know that I don’t call myself.  Listening to your own voice from an external source is weird.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.  I once did a podcast when I was younger.”

“Oh?”

James tried not to wince.  “Yeah, I have audio evidence that younger me was an idiot.”  He admitted.  “Really pushed me to be a better person, honestly.  Nothing like hearing your own stupid politics read back to you in your own voice to motivate you to change.”

“We should do a podcast.”  Sarah brightly chimed in from behind them.

“What.”  Both boys deadpanned in unison, trading small grins at the shared action.

“I’m serious!”  She said.  “Look, we’re a political organization…”

James got an alarmed look on his face.  “No we’re not!”  He protested.

Anesh shook his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.  “James, I know you’re American, but it’s weird that you have this knee-jerk reaction to being political.”

“I’m legitimately worried that someone is going to try to make me run for office.  I don’t wanna do that, I just want to… you know… give things a nudge when I can.”  James said as the elevator doors opened.  It was, thankfully, the right basement.

The three of them stepped out, Sarah trying to rebuild momentum to her point. “We’re political because we have ideas about how the world should work, and how people should act.  That’s what that *means*.  Politics isn’t elections, it’s societies.  Anyway.  Not important.  Or, well, it *is*, but…”

“It’s okay to just say you want to do a podcast.”  James told her.

“It matters!”  She protested with a small stomp of her foot and a comical scowl.  “But really.  We want everyone on the same page, and you were talking about some kind of internal news thing anyway!  We could do a thing where we go over dungeon events, maybe have special guests to talk about things they’ve seen or are working on… oh!  Special features on tactics or survival tips!  And all of it with reinforcement of our mission statement.”

“You’re really into this.”  James commented as they passed through the desks of the research floor and toward the combination vault and monster containment facility.  “Wait, what is our mission statement? I know I’ve got a vague idea, but…” James let out a long ‘uh’ as he looked for an answer.

Anesh came to his rescue.  “It’s ‘do good aggressively and make the world better for everyone’.”  He informed James.  “It’s kept a little vague so people know there’s room to debate how to do that good, but also has some specific language to let people know what the tone of our organization is, and also the inclusion of ‘everyone’ sets it as inclusive rather than exclusive.  Or so I am told.”

“Huh.  I mean, I agree with all of that.  Who wrote that?”  James asked.

“*You did*” Anesh sputtered at him.  “I mean, sure, you were up to your bloody eyes in magic coffee at the time, but still!”

“Oh, right, I was meaning to tell you about this.”  Sarah chirped.  “The second coffee maker you guys brought back gives a kind of blackout amnesia if you overdo it.  It’s sorta like the crash naptime the other one has, but actually less funny and kinda sad.”  Her face fell as she said that, but then perked up at the end as she added.  “But!  This is the perfect example of something that could be…”

“On a podcast.”  James sighed.  “Okay, you’re in charge of that.  Good luck.”

“What.”

“Do a podcast.  I’ll help out, or hire you a sound engineer or something.”  James told her.  “You’ve sold me.  Good job!  Now, can we please stay calm in the presence of an unearthly apex predator?”

“I… um… yes!  Thanks!”  Sarah beamed and did a little dance with her arms when she thought James wasn’t looking.

They paused at the vault door for James to enter the passcode and biometric data to release the massive bolt locks on it.  The door and structural reinforcements had been the work of weeks of remodeling, which had cost the organization through the nose to expedite, but it had been done with only minimal hiccups.  It turned out, you needed less paperwork for building a safe room than you did for something like buying a gun.  And the terms of their lease on this structure were, in fact, *very specific* about the fact that they were not allowed to modify the structure as it had been upon handoff.  The fact that the basements were not included in the things that couldn’t be modified made the whole thing a breeze.

Well, that and Secret camping the elevator and blocking the memory of the wrong button in the minds of the construction crew.

“Okay, so, Anesh.”  James lowered his voice as he let the scanner get a good look at his eye and tried not to move his jaw too much.   “I actually was curious about your other self, and if you were even in contact.  Cause I was trying to get in touch with my sister the other day, and she wasn’t answering, and she was also on a school trip to London.”

“In February?”  Anesh cocked an unseen eyebrow, his Spock-esque talent going unnoticed.  “In London?  That’s a terrible idea.  It’s cold and wet.”

“Isn’t it always…”  James started to ask as the door hissed open.

Anesh held up a firm hand, palm outward.  “Don’t finish that sentence.”  He ordered.

James smirked, and Sarah hid a giggle behind a hand and a fake cough, and Anesh pretended that he’d won a moral victory here.

Behind the vault door were two things.  In the front half, kept in boxes and lockers in a way that an uninformed observer would call ‘sorted’ or ‘secure’, was their dungeon loot.  Enhanced items, the ‘growing’ pods for the emerald chips, lockboxes full of cash, their small farm of iLipedes that seemed to prefer these dark, closed off areas and didn’t enjoy being placed in the pen with the shellaxies, and of course, their stash of unused orbs.  In the back…

In the back, there was a cage.

It wasn’t really a cage, exactly.  It was more of a clean room, if you wanted to look at the technical specifications.  Sure, it was built with a steel reinforced double lock airlock, and shatter resistant one-way glass.  But it was totally a normal thing for a safe room that have in it, especially in what the contractors had been assured was a tech startup.  It also really was fairly easy to keep clean, which was good because they’d had to put some effort into keeping the cat asleep while they cleaned up the vomit from other James’ arrival here.  It turned out, teleporting through time dilation was disruptive to a human body; though fortunately not lethally so.

There was a small calico cat prowling around at the base of the window into the room.  It meowed, perhaps defiantly, as the trio walked in.

“Okay.  So.  Sarah?  Your show.”  James stepped aside, and motioned to the cat.  Behind it, in the containment pen, he knew, there was another cat.  A bigger one, taking up roughly the same floor space a king sized bed would.  But that one was invisible, and the one that wasn’t real, that was sitting out here on the floor, was perfectly observable.

“Alright.”  Sarah started, moving up to tap on the glass a couple times, ignoring the cat at her feet.  She reached out and snagged a clipboard hanging off a hook on the wall nearby, and flipped through a few pages.  Checking up on the notes of the other people who had come through to make observations over the last week.  “So, here’s what we know.  It’s gotten less instantly hostile - it *can* see us through the glass by the way - and also started responding better to having company at all.  We’re pretty sure that this little guy…”  She knelt down to pretend to pet the little cat on the floor, grinning as it swatted at her hands playfully, its own paws phasing right through her skin.  “...is real, in a way.  It’s a projection, but the big guy can see through it, and interacts with it.”  She rose back up and looked through the window.  Something in her face shifted, and suddenly, James was aware of the fact that Sarah was making eye contact with something.

Through the glass, there was a ripple in the air.  Just the slightest distortion, a small wave of it pushed backward through the space in front of their viewing space.  And then the window itself let out a low *thud* noise.  He looked down to see the little cat on the ground, staring forward at nothing, one paw raised out and pressed flat against the air.  Looking back up, Sarah had raised her own hand, and placed it against the glass where the main body of the beast had done the same.

“I’ve been thinking of calling these things Panthers.”  James admitted.  “Because I’ve been doing research on tanks lately, and I can’t get a better name into my head.”

“On what?”  Anesh asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“Tanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Guys, be serious.”  Sarah said as James threw his arms around Anesh’s upper torso in an attempt to either kiss him or suplex him.  The two of them froze and looked at her expectantly.  She thought about what she’d said, and then discarded the notion.  “Okay, nevermind.  But really, this is good.  We have no idea how the green orbs work, but they don’t appear to be fundamental constraints for the Life the same way the yellows, purples, and reds are.  Either that, or being outside of and away from the Office breaks the connection well enough anyway.  It’s possible that’s what they are, compared to the others - a connection, of some sort.  Either way, while I don’t have answers for you, I can tell you with… eeehhhhhhh… let’s say eighty percent confidence, that you can bring your hissy friends here safely.”

“No idea how we’ll feed them.”  Anesh sighed.

“I’m guessing surveillance footage.”  James shrugged.  “We’ll figure it out.  Even if they’re doomed, better they be doomed here, and a little free, than doomed there in despair.”

Sarah wore a melancholy look on her face as she wiped at the corner of her eye.  “Aw, that was poetry!  And also really sad.  I wanna help them not be doomed at all!”

“Me too.”  James let out a long breath.  “On that note, Sarah, you good here with your new buddy?”

“Oh!  He’s still super going to try to kill us if we let him out now!” She informed them.  “Not at all our friend!  Just not as dungeon-y.”

“Goooooood to know.”  James groaned out.  “Anyway.  I need to go talk to Neil and Nate.  They were bringing some gear in today.  They… get along.”  He shuddered.  “It’s worrying.”

It was worrying because the two of them, despite being radically different personalities, had one single point of overlap in the things they were into.  They were both of them, for different reasons, both knowledgeable and passionate about the minuta of what could best be categorized as ‘military hardware’.  And the two of them in the same room rapidly turned into a conversation about said topic.  And then a debate.  And then, escalating swiftly into an argument, it created a room-sized conversation exclusion zone.

They were the natural fit for the people to ask to buy the guild a weaponry upgrade.  And also mildly a pain to listen to.  

“Alright.  So.  You didn’t give us enough of a budget, but we made do.”  Neil was complaining.  “Basically, if you want to kill a dragon, you need a very specialized gun…”

“First of all, we can circumvent budget restrictions duplicating specific high value items.  Though we’re sharing that resource with also duplicating better stuff, like orbs.  Still, if the gun is small enough, we can make more, sort of exponentially.”  James interjected.

“We can clone things?”  Nate cut in.  “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I assumed everyone knew? It’s why Anesh spends all that time in the tower, and why you guys have been sent out to harvest coffee twice in the last month.”  James raised his eyebrows at them.

Nate gave him a look that combined a scowl and a disappointed glare into a fearsome wrinkling of the forehead.  For a short guy with glasses, he sure could put a lot of threat into a simple facial quirk.  “You need to get better at passing along information.”

“We’re working on it.  Sarah wants to do a podcast.”

“I’d listen to that.”  Neil opined.  “Anyway.  Dragon slaying.  So, what we’ve been looking at is a twenty millimeter anti material rifle big dick boom stick.  That should be…”

“Stop.”

“...plenty enough to wreck the day, and night, of whatever we point it at.  And all for the low price of…”

“No.”

“...I mean, okay, the price is high.  But I can get us round trip tickets on a semi-legal cargo ship trip to Cape Town, and I have a cousin that can get us…”

Nate slapped Neil on the back of the head.  “Cut it out.”  He turned to James.  “It’s a hundred grand, and very illegal.”  He explained.  “But it would kill a dragon.  Probably.”

“To be clear, the dragon is not a literal dragon.  It’s like if a server room stood up, had wings, and was angry at you.”  James explained, suddenly realizing neither of these men had been that deep in the dungeon.  “So we need something that will put holes in a machine, more than a man.”

“Oh.”  Neil deflated a bit, rubbing the back of his head.  ”Um…” He glanced at Nate, and sheepishly offered a suggestion.  “Desert Tech MDR, slotted for .308?  Probably one per team, issue everyone else a Mossberg?”

Nate nodded.  “It’s a dumb and flashy toy, but it’s a toy that makes the holes you want.  Mossberg 500 is the shotgun you want, though, yeah.  Fits the categories of legal, cheap, and simple enough for civs to use.”

“Should I be insulted here?”  James asked. Inwardly he was imagining hammering his head on the wall; the Mossberg had been Alanna’s trusted weapon since early on, he should have just bought or duplicated a dozen of them from the start. 

“Probably.  Anyway, what Neil’s ignoring is that the walls get tight in a lot of places.  Probably one long gun per team is fine, and then give everyone a p09.  It’s not like anything is going to be especially resistant to nine mil anyway.” Nate gave a rolling, full body shrug. Then he shot an interrogating look at James.  “Is it?”  He asked seriously. 

“The mainframes could probably shrug off a few dozen shots.  Tumblefeeds might just not care about it.  But that’s what the bigger guns are for, right?”  James made the question rhetorical.  “Give me a price breakdown, and we’ll see if the budget can handle the influx of firepower. Oh, also, I’d like you guys to see if you can find me a Walther p38 while you’re on your shopping trip.”

“Whyyyy would you want that?”  Neil dragged the word out. 

“Skill crap?”  Nate simply asked. 

James nodded and cocked a finger in his direction as affirmation.  “Got it in one. You guys good to argue amongst yourself over this?  I’ve gotta go to school.”

“I thought you had a degree?”  Neil asked, naively surprised.  Nate just gave him a level look.

James threw up his arms in the air, proclaiming his frustrations.  “Oh my god, fine, I’ll send you all a link to the podcast!”

As he left the building, he realized that if all they were going to do was suggest the armaments they already mostly had, that he could have saved a lot of time and just skipped the whole step of asking advice.  Though it was nice to have confirmation from people who were more into the details of guns, as opposed to Alanna, who was more about proficiency and the philosophical impact of a weapon.  Also, the actual process of purchasing guns was still alien to him, and while he knew it was a bad habit to get into, it felt nice to offload a problem onto other people by dumping a load of money on them and giving them marching orders.

James drove smoothly through the midday streets, long since having gotten comfortable with the invisible guidance of his skill upgrades, and having fully incorporated them into his actual driving.  He took the opportunity to relax a bit, even from his own thoughts; music turned up, windows down, and no particular brain power put toward any dungeon problems for a little while.  Just the groove of Spanish guitar and the still frosty wind of early February.

And a brief pause as he detoured through one of the office park areas that dotted the city.  Technically, the road would cut though to another street that would still take him to the high school, but five minutes later than normal.  He had a reason, though.

He wanted to take another look at the target.

When the research team had spun up a nascent godmind that had called itself Curious, she had talked to James briefly about an enemy operation.  She called them Status Quo - or rather, she said that James would come to call them that, and now he did, which seemed circular - and she had given him an address.

The name itself brought to life a lot of thoughts, mostly negative connotations.  Not all of them bad, but certainly the majority.  Stagnation, repression, that attitude of ‘keep things the way they are’.  The sort of ideology that, James could understand, might be staffed by people who wanted to protect the world from the unknown, but would absolutely be run by and answer to the kind of people who wanted to protect their own interests above all else.

The address, he mused as he drove past for the dozenth time this week, was exactly what you’d expect from a theoretical organization that interfered with the supernatural.  It was a beige three story block, with a fleet of what must be  standard-issue grey four door sedans in the parking lot.  James had, on none of the occasions he’d rolled past and tried to spot anything meaningful about it, seen anyone smoking in the parking lot or visiting one of the food trucks parked in the street that ran through the park.  Never seen any of the windows with the blinds open.  Never seen any sign that this place had an affiliation with a business at all.

If there was ever a more surefire sign this place belonged to either an impossibly boring government agency, or an equally clandestine operation, James didn’t know what it was.  

Today, too, he couldn’t see anything of any information value as he drove by.  He just felt now like he had a duty to keep an eye on the place.  In case, perhaps, he came by once and saw a bunch of goons muscleing captives out of an unmarked van.  Or the complex was in turmoil, with suited and sunglasses agents swarming to their cars as someone barked orders from the front door.

Those things weren’t happening.  Again.  For the twentieth time, things failed to happen as he drove past.  So he just sneered at the building instead, turned the music back up, and got back on track.

He met Lua in the parking lot of the Seven-Eleven across the street from the high school.  It seemed like a better idea than the parking lot of the school itself, if only a little bit.  Being the guy who tracked blood and ichor across the lobby a few months back had endeared him to exactly no one; even if the police and the news hadn’t drawn a spotlight onto him, it still seemed like putting a little distance down was prudent.

“How’s it been?”  He asked the middle aged woman as she joined him in leaning against his car, handing a cheap cup of convenience store coffee over to her.  

She took it gratefully, downing half the boiling beverage in one go before James could warn her, seeming to shrug off the effects of the heat and leaving James standing there with an open mouth and one hand half extended in warning.  “You know, I spent years doing therapy for adults.  Mostly people your age; twenties and thirties.  It’s easy to forget how fucked up things are for a lot of kids.”  She stated bluntly, her voice dipping a little in tone as she swore.  Lua did that, sometimes; she’d swear or get angry, show a very human side of herself, but she did it quieter than when she was giving advice or help.

“So, not good then?”  James asked, a pitiful hopeful look on his face.

The therapist turned spy sighed.  “It’s fine.”  She admitted.  “I’m busy.  They trust me, James.  There are three counselors for this entire school, and the other two are… not friendly.  Not helpful.  I don’t want to badmouth my colleagues, which is good, because I work for you and not the school, and they *suck*.”  She put serious emphasis on the last word, despite almost whispering it.

“Well, you’re welcome to keep doing work here as long as you want.  Anesh got contacted by the administration, and they’re still in the dark about the whole ‘we aren’t really the FBI’ thing.”  James accepted the nod from her as affirmation.  “Out of curiosity, do they pay you?  I know we pay you, I’m not gonna stop that, I’m just curious.”

“No, but I get free food.”  Lua said. “Which I think is punishment?”

“I remember cafeteria food, yeah.”  James agreed.  “We’ll give you a lunch budget.”  He pulled out his notepad, flicked to an empty page, and made a note before he forgot that task.

Lua watched him with mild amusement.  “You know, you’re the only person I know who does that.  With actual paper.  Everyone else uses phones.”

“Got into the habit in the dungeon, where I didn’t want to bring my phone along and get it broken.  And then it turned out this actually helps with my horrible memory.”  James admitted.  “I’ve got pretty bad ADD, honestly, and I don’t really have health insurance anymore to get it medicated.”

“You could just buy grey market drugs from Canada.”

“I… holy shit.”  James tilted his head to stare off into the distance, rubbing at his forehead just over his right eye as he gazed into the grove of trees down the road.  “I can just do that.  I forgot the rules don’t apply to me anymore.”

Lua winced, and tried to hide it.  That was not the lesson she’d meant to impart.  She tried to get the conversation back under control.  “So, you wanted to get my weekly report?”  She asked, cutting away the casual nature of the chat so far.  James nodded, and Lua’s expression shifted to one of quiet competence.  “Two more kids went missing.”  She said, bluntly.  “One of them I think found another way into the dungeon.  The other, I can reasonably say, is taking advantage of the situation to run away from home.  I gave her what hints I could without causing more problems, and I think she’ll find her way to us soon.  There’s more students who are concerned about the disappearances; most of them believe the serial killer line, but there’s three who don’t.  They don’t know the others are seeing me, I think, which is why their stories aren’t quite straight, and they *are* lying to me about what they suspect.  They’re investigating; and they’re starting with the suspicious new therapist.”

“Three of them?”  James asked, something about that worrying at his thoughts.

“I had the same thought.”  Lua said, ignoring that James hadn’t fully formed the conceptual object yet.  “The team of three keeps showing up.”

“Yes.  That.”  James nodded, her words making it click in his head.

The therapist gave a slow nod.  “It’s a pattern.  I don’t know why, but it’s there.  And if they keep poking around, they *will* find the entrance.”  She gave a grim frown.  “And here’s the thing that changed.  You know how you locked the door and broke the key?”

“Alanna did that, but sure.”

“Well, the door moved.”

James blinked.  “What?”  He barked in confusion.

“It moved.”  Lua pressed her hands together and unfolded them as she explained.  “The door that used to be there just isn't anymore.  The school blueprints don’t show a boiler room in that spot, either, and I’ve had them in my office for a while so I know that changed at some point too.  Of course, I also still have the blueprints, so I just looked for where it says the boiler room is now, and found it.  It’s on the opposite end of the door to the overhead rigging for the stage that they use for drama.”

Something about that seemed odd, and James stopped nodding along as he realized.  “Wait, what?”  He felt like he was saying that a lot.  He pitched his voice more conversationally, and less like a confused doofus.  “So, it’s not bound by the rules of where a boiler room is supposed to be at all, then.”

“Apparently not.”

“And someone’s found it already?”

“At least one student.  And... well, do you think you can handle more bad news on your plate today?”  Lua asked him honestly.

James scoffed.  “I am the master of bad news.”  He told her.

“Okay.  I think one of the teachers actually is a serial killer.”  She said.  “Or was, rather.  I’m still sussing it out, but it’s a strong case for there having been a computer science teacher that was luring students into the dungeon, and coming out… without them.”

“God dammit.”  He snarled the words out in a cold angry whisper.  “Who is it?  I’m almost certain we can make someone disappear forever.”  James cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Ah.  Assuming cold blooded murder is on the table.  That is.  Not that I would plan for that.  Something something pacifism.”

For someone who was supposedly a therapist, it was impressive how Lua could broadcast the *feeling* of having eyes rolled at you without every actually making the motion.  “I said was.”  She spoke in a serious voice instead of rising to James’ snark.  “He’s gone.  Or they’re gone, I shouldn’t assume the teacher was male.  And by gone I mean it’s like they never existed.  Just like…”

“Just like what the basement does.”

“Yes.”  Lua affirmed.  She looked… sick.  And James got it, really, he did.  Because he felt exactly the same way.  A month and a half of investigation and attempted containment, all while trying to find a way to purchase or create enough high explosive to flatten a dungeon environment had done absolutely nothing to quiet his fury.  Because this place wasn’t like Officium Mundi, that had dangerous things in it and had spawned some evil things.  No, it was a place that lured people in, lured *children* in, and then killed them.  Fed on their deaths, divided up their torn clothing among its complicit minions, and wiped their names from the historical record.  If anyone in the Order had just shrugged and said ‘oh well, that’s how it is sometimes’, and *not* been at least a little sickened?  James would have kicked them out instantly.  Off the roof.

“Alright.”  James finally settled on, draining his cup of the last bits of ‘coffee’, and tossing it in a long arc across the parking lot and into the trash can by the front of the convenience store.  “Keep doing what you’re doing.  If anything instantly threatening shows up, you know how to contact us.”

“Yes, sir.”  Lua said, formally, punctuating the words by thudding a closed fist into the flat open palm of her other hand.

“...What’s with the gesture?”  James asked, suspicious.

Lua looked confused. “I thought this was the salute you… we… used.  I’ve seen Alanna and some of the other delvers use it when you give them orders.  JP called it a ‘nascent ritual’.”

James let out a choked sigh.  “Do they always wait for me to turn my back first?”  He asked.

“Yes, now that I think about it.”

“Of course they do.”  He shook his head.  “Anyway.  Here.”  He handed Lua a small latched wooden box.  “Three blues, six yellows.  The yellows it’s up to you on what you do with, but the blues we recommend absorbing until you get a power with self-defense potential.  Anything with create or remove in the name works.  Alanna’s teaching a class on combat powers this Saturday, I recommend you be there.  Also.  You’ve been helping us out immensely, and I know you don’t *want* to go into the Office, but we are going in tomorrow for a specific humanitarian reason, and if you want to be there, I think you can be helpful.”

“I’ll think about it.”  She said, meaning it.

James gave her a friendly nod, and stood up off the hood of his car where he’d been leaning, stretching and looking around as he got back in his car and saw Lua retreat across the street, back to the school and her double-duty day job.  He noticed a couple kids on the street corner, probably skipping class, who were all clearly watching him.  “Heh.”  He muttered to himself as he fired up the engine.  “Probably think I’m the secret boyfriend or something.”  He joked to himself.  Then remembered what Lua had literally just said, and gave the watchers another look.  Two teen guys, one of them with shaggy hair and glasses, the other one clearly in better shape, maybe a student athlete, with a sharp nose over a hard face.  They were watching him, deliberately, but they flinched and looked away when James swept his gaze over the duo.

Problems, he thought.

Or…

There were three things searching for them, Curious had said.  Status Quo was one, and James at least had an idea of where they were.  He was keeping an eye on them, in a horrifyingly inefficient way, but still.  They were a vaguely known factor, and in a week or so, he’d have the power backing and confidence to have a chat with them, if he wanted to.  But they’d keep.  The other was the abstract threat of people who were mad at him.  James assumed that was the police detective, now putting real effort into tracking him down.  James had already ditched his phone, and asked Secret to do some obfuscating, and he assumed the blue orb that shook pursuit had helped too.

The third one was the curious.

Was it them?  A trio of determined students, dumped into a sea of horrors that was threatening to rise over their head, and still finding the energy to try to track down the truth?

James flipped out his notepad and made a mark.  This was a job for Sarah, he figured.  He was finally getting the hang of this whole delegating thing, and it was such a great feeling, to make this someone else’s problem.

Then he looked at the note on top of the page, that hadn’t been checked off yet.  “God dammit, I need to put out a hiring ad for a sound engineer.”  He grumbled, flipping it shut and shoving the pad back into his pocket.  One thing after another.  And only a day left before one of the more important delves they’d undertaken.  He pulled out of the parking lot, a feeling thrumming in his chest in time with the engine, equal parts nervous twitching, excited waiting, and a cold angry that still waited to be satisfied.

It was a patient anger, though.  And a patient excitement, too, at that.  And so James drove home like he always did; music turned up, windows rolled down.  No acknowledgement to himself that, yes, he really did feel like the bullet in the chamber.  And the target was in the sights now.

_____

They’d been in the dungeon for an hour now.  Anesh had vanished instantly to check on something, Alanna and JP had run off to play quartermaster to the people who’d come in, and everyone was taking time to do warmup stretches, adjust the straps on their armor, test out drone control, and get used to the feeling of being about to go on an adventure.

This time, there were no miscommunications or missing words.

“There are thirty six camracondas, outside the dungeon’s control, trapped in a tower.”  James spoke to the assembled crew.  “Through testing, we know that someone ripping a telepad page can bring up to five ‘people’ with them.  This includes dungeon Life, regardless of size, and we have no reason to believe it won’t include the camracondas.  I bring this up because we are going to liberate them.”  There were a few hard nods at that, and a few confused looks, too.  Deb raised a hand cautiously, while Dave did the same motion in one swift snap of his arm, and James shook his head at the both of them.  “Questions at the end.”  He stopped them.  “So.  We need ten people to get them all out.  We also only vaguely understand where the tower is, because of how it was shielded.  But, as long as we go in with the intent to aid and not to harm, we’ll be able to spot it.”  He explained the cloaking effect.  “We also won’t be moving the totem, just in case.”  James added.  “The camracondas are aware of the fact that we’re arriving to help them.  They are, in a word, refugees.  I know there’s some concern that this is a trap, but if it is, it was one that was set in motion *years* ago.  So we’re just discounting that it’s aimed at us, and acting in good faith.  Now.  The landing.  Everyone participating in this operation needs to be aware that the arrival back in reality feels *awful*.  The time distortion is what causes it, we think.  But it won’t do any permanent damage.  For a landing zone, we’ve marked specific spots in the back parking lot of the Lair; out of sight, but in the open, to prevent any teleport collisions.  We don’t *know* if that can happen, but fuck if we’re gonna find out now, right?”  He got a lot of affirmative noises to that one.  “Once you arrive, you’ll be back on a normal timeline, so everyone still in here will still have time before leaving and meeting up with you.  Just keep that in mind.”  He took a breath.  “Okay.  Any questions now?”

“Why does this feel dangerous?”  Dave asked instantly.

“Because people have visited their tower over the last month a couple times, and it’s entirely possible the dungeon is mobilized to stand in the way.”  James said.  “Though it wasn’t last time, and we might get away clean.”  He stepped aside, gesturing to the hard plastic box next to him.  “That said.  Bonus points to Neil and Nate for moving rapidly on something; I have a gift for everyone.”

Firearms.  Guns and ammo.  James had even deployed one of his minions to the local army surplus store - he was still mad at them for selling machetes that couldn’t even murder an angry plant monster without breaking - but they *did* sell bandolers and ammo pouches, and those were lined up alongside the pump action shotguns, nine millimeter semi automatic pistols, and boxes of shells and rounds.

Not that it was much of a surprise.  Nate had spent last night briefing everyone on firearm safety and trigger discipline.  You wouldn’t need to be a crack shot to use a gun at the ranges they operated at, and they were more for emergency fight situations than they were for ambushes or long range pickoffs anyway.

But what was a surprise was Anesh, jumping from the third floor of the tower and landing seemingly without concern, and jogging over toward the group that was now staring at him.

“What the hell was that?”  Someone, or perhaps several someones asked him.

“What?  Oh.  Purple.  Safe fall height.  Not important; it’s not a great one, but there’s one extra in the database if we want to copy it again.”  Anesh waved his hand like that wasn’t a massive statement on its own.  “No.  I wanted to give you all these.”  He pulled a long cardboard box out from under his arm, and added it to the top of the crate that had been snapped shut after everyone had been given their loadouts.

The boxes were a recent change, but after they’d learned that you could totally accidentally break orbs through a bag, it felt reasonable.

When Anesh opened it, a line of fifteen yellow orbs greeted them.

“What are these?  Are they special?”  James asked.

“Maybe!”  Anesh announced.  “Lily gave us a readout for an orb that labeled it ‘Action/Motion’.  I figured it was a good test run, so we ran the copier a few times.  These are the fifteen extras; I kept the original in reserve, labeled, just in case.”

And here it was.  The first big step forward in exploiting the skills.  Even if it wasn’t a great one, even if a person could only use it once or twice, the fact that they *knew what it would be* after this first level up would make it invaluable.  They’d be able to shore up weaknesses, rapidly bring new members up to speed, and enhance themselves beyond human levels in ways they could actually control this time.

James took the first one out, and everyone looked at him with wide eyes.  He popped the orb, and the assembled delvers collectively held their breath.

[+.8 Skill Ranks : Athletics - Running]

“Everyone come grab one.”  James said with a grin, thinking about kicking into a sprint and realizing his leg muscles were primed to do so.  “Let me know if you get a fractional number.”  There was a rush of excitement, and a rush of ability flooding into the team.  “Running.”  He informed Anesh.  “Not a combat skill, really, but it’s the kind of thing that makes the difference, especially if we’re… you know… running away.”  James laughed.  “I got point eight ranks; think that means I was already pretty good, or that the orb was weak?”

“I bet you a yellow it was the orb.”  Anesh didn’t even hesitate to quip.

James looked offended.  “Okay, ow.”  He said, placing a hand over his heart in protest.

“Hey, I got a tenth of a skill point?”  Deb raised her voice over the chatter of the group who were excitedly discussing the potential for this new axis of power.

“Hah!”  James said triumphantly.  “Pay up!”

“Damn.”  Anesh grinned back.  “I’ll pay you once someone brings me more coffee.”

“No, no!  Pay me a *real* orb!  A random one, not another running one!”

“What?!  You don’t wanna run better?!”  Anesh chided him.  “That’s irresponsible!  Especially since you can run at vehicle speeds.”

“Apparently even then I can’t run as well as Deb.”  James griped.  “Tenth of a point?  That girl must jog every day.”

“You jog every day with Alanna.”

“Yeah, but I’m asleep when I do it.”  James said, and he and Anesh shared a dry look before they both started cracking up.

It was exactly what everyone needed.  Just a little bit of levity before the journey.

And with that, hearts lightened, nerves settled, and weapons loaded, fifteen people started moving as a group in the direction they needed to go.

_____

JP and Dave crouched twenty feet ahead of James, heads poked around a corner like they were goddamn Scooby Doo characters.  Almost as one, the two of them drew back, and Dave made a slashing motion over his shoulder.

Thirteen delvers scurried into cubicles.  There were a couple muted pops as people tossed coats over flashbulbs, and James himself got the drop on a tapir, knocking it to the floor and chopping down through it’s softer ‘tape’ flesh-bulb with his axe before it could react.  He didn’t want to hit it against a desk and risk the bang drawing too much attention, instead relying on the carpet to at least pretend to muffle things.

The reason, he thought as he grabbed the yellow out of its corpse, was that they were slipping by their third tumblefeed of the night.  

[+1 Skill Rank : Architecture - Cathedral - Structural Weakness]

He snorted.  That one was literally never coming in handy.  Raising his eyes back up, he made eye contact with the other team leads through the doors of other cubes across the hall; quick nods affirming that everyone was in the clear.  Whatever had been happening with the dungeon’s ecosystem, it was no longer occurring.  Wildlife was out in force today, and the closer they got to the shrouded tower, the more James started thinking that Officum Mundi was seriously trying to stop them from moving forward.

The tumblefeeds they’d chosen not to engage.  They had the thermite on hand to melt more than one of the beasts, but doing so would absolutely draw attention.  Especially if the green Life worked the way they were starting to understand it to, and the dungeon was watching through its eyes.  So, instead, they dodged them.  Waiting for the creatures to scurry by before they ran the group by in single file.

Overhead, drones controlled by their most proficient operators on the fly kept watch for anything closing in, keeping digital eyes fed through skulljack braids on the hallways around them.  They’d already tagged four or five orange orb zones, which they all steered clear of too.  No need to test fate today, of all days.

“Alright.”  James said, after they’d finally rushed one at a time across the open space of low walls and bright lighting, making their way through the paper vines on the other side into another wide hall.  This one had arches of wall material low to the ground, like roots designed to snare the foot.  “Mappers?”  He prompted, looking to Neil and Daniel. 

“Drones show nothing big between here and the base of the tower.”  Neil confirmed.  “Straight shot, clear.”

“Pathfinder is still learning how to guide an army.”  Daniel said, ignoring James’ protests that they weren’t an army.  “She says there’s something blocking us, but we can’t see it properly.  Too many of us moving.”

Alanna stepped up to them.  “Scouts say there’s a break room around the tower.”  She said, grim faced.  “Secret says it’s not shrouded, but it’s got overhead cover.”

“What?”  Neil looked shocked.  “But… drones!”

“Motherfucker.”  James growled out.  “Dungeons have been moving terrain around way too much lately.  It’s bad enough we know the school can rearrange the actual real world school.  This is just bonus annoyance.”

Alanna gave him a hard nod.  “So, what do we do?”  She asked, and James could see some of the others moving closer to listen in on the conversation.

He gave a shark’s grin.  “Oh, we go through it.”  He said.  “Everyone grab something weighty off a nearby desk.  We’ll deal with the coffee mines, and punch through.  It’s obviously a trap, but the dungeon hasn’t taken the tower, so it doesn’t know where the trap needs to be.  We go through fast, shoot anything that tries to stop us, get inside, and get gone.”  James looked around at his companions, at his *Order*.  “Besides, what are we gonna do otherwise?  Fight back through a half dozen tumblefeeds?”  He laughed.  “No.  Fuck this.  I’m not getting scared off of doing the right thing by a living building that can’t even spring for real wood tables.”  James joked, and while his own laugh was joined by others, still kept softly quiet to avoid attracting too much attention, he noticed the glimmer of something in the eyes watching him.

That will to fight back against the injustice of the world.  That voice in your head that told you to get up when someone knocked you down, or to snap back at the authority figure telling you to stop trying.

Didn’t matter if it was a middle-aged ex-sailor-turned-chef or a kid with a drone obsession, a nursing graduate or an insomniac witch, a big ‘ol softie of a nerd in way over his head or a girl who liked spray paint and cars.  They all had that realization and reaction.  The dungeon was trying to get in their way?

Nah.

James stepped out first, tearing down the paper vines as he did so to clear the line of sight for everyone else.  He could see the base of the tower in the distance, though the newly grown cubicle ceilings blocked his vision of the upper floors.  There were still camracondas on watch, though, and they spotted him at once, one of them scrambling deeper into the tower.  The ‘break room’, tile floor, the glare of overpowered fluorescent light coming from nowhere in particular, and the smell of a microwave that had the tragedy of the commons befall it, stretched off for twenty to thirty meters on both sides.  A labyrinth of tables and chairs sat between James and his target, arranged *just so perfectly* that he’d have to be studiously careful to not trigger any of the coffee cups balanced on a hair trigger.  In addition to those caffeinated bombs, wood paneled countertops cut lines across the field.  Obstructing lines of sight with cupboards that merged with the ceiling overhead, dousing the area in the white noise of sinks that were left running, small streams of overflowing water making the floor around them a slick mess and another obstacle to worry about.  A few plants were visible, some of them almost assuredly alive and waiting to strike, hanging in pots suspended from the ceiling near corners.

The whole thing was a trap.  The dungeon learning how they operated, and deciding that whatever they wanted here?  It was going to put some of its new tricks to use.

Hefting a paper weight in his hand, James flung it overhand at the first table.

It nailed a coffee mine dead center, sending a burst of boiling liquid into the air along with a small shockwave.  A follow up throw of a dead strider took out another cup, which set off a few more in a chain reaction.  James stepped forward into the cleared space, and Alanna and Anesh took up the space on either side of him, their own projectiles in hand.  Even as they made their throws, more and more people stepped out of the hallway and started clearing the carefully arranged space of threats.

A corridor wide enough for four people abreast was empty of any threat, and the group was *moving*.  Secret spun in lazy ethereal circles around James’ legs as he led the charge, shouldering tables now devoid of explosives out of the way and making a gap where the biggest problem was slipping on coffee splattered across the linoleum floor.  Alanan, close behind him, put her own frame to use slamming the remnants of that furniture off to the side even farther, creating a hallway out of the makeshift barricade.

By the time the ambushers realized what was going on, it was too late.  When the cupboards of the counter to their right burst open and dozens of those old-model vicious striders crawled out like steel trapdoor spiders, the Order was already thirty feet away and behind a pile of tangled chairs.  When another set of cupboards right in front of them revealed the same force arrayed against them, before anyone could get a shot off, Momo slapped her hands together, popping a red orb into a complex ball that she’d build to house it.  Everyone nearby her winced slightly, but then she flung it into the crowd, and the striders went *nuts*.  The smaller ones started tearing at the bigger ones in fury, and the bigger ones didn’t even fight back, looking like they were just scrambling in panic to put distance between themselves and the column of humans moving through.

James had felt the totem for just a moment when Momo had activated it.  Relative size.  He knew exactly how he was compared to everything within about a hundred feet.  Not a huge deal, on average.  But for a strider?  Especially one without any built up sentience, created in the last day or two just to be a weapon?  That must be some heavy existential dread to cope with.

Not much farther to go.  James could hear the sounds of yelling from those bringing up the rear, as Sarah and Dave engaged the faster striders that were trying and failing to overwhelm the group.  James and Alanna continued their bulldozer impression past one of the plants, and James saw out of the corner of his eye as it lashed at him with a razor sharp fern.  But then, lightning fast, JP slipped past James on the left side and flicked his arm up, the sword he’d had commissioned slicing the plant’s attack off midway through.  Another swing, without stopping forward momentum, and the thing died silently.  They left the dropped orbs in the pot.

Around the counter that lay directly in their path, no cupboards in this one thankfully, and for some reason the refrigerator continued to not try to kill them, though James didn’t drop his guard.  The instant she cleared the corner, Alanna double-handed flung a folding chair low over the tables, wiping away any coffee mines still in their path.

But then, James slammed into her side, as she’d frozen in place.

“OOF.  Wha… oh!”  James caught on rapidly.

There was a maimframe.

Hidden behind this last wall, with one more low wall keeping it out of sight of the tower.  The bulky tank shell rose up on multi-jointed legs, a dozen firing ports swiveling online at once as they registered James and Alanna in their sights, glossy blue film flickering to life around it.  It looked like someone had built a PC, been told they could scale it up indefinitely, and then just shrugged and kept adding stuff until it was the size of a minivan.  Then they gave it patchwork armor plating and four claw-like legs that left holes in the linoleum as it stomped forward.

The two partners couldn’t stop.  People were coming in fast behind them.  So James did what he’d told everyone the plan was.

Keep moving.  Shoot anything in the way.

His skill orb fired up somewhere in the abstract space of his soul, knowledge and ability flooding into his blood and bones and muscles.  The pistol in his hand was already up, and firing, as he kicked off the ground and exploded forward fast enough that he could feel painful pressure against his insides.  Every shell enhancement he had was dialed up as far as possible, even his red orbs sparked in his mind, driving him to flow with the mood.  And the blue he’d absorbed expended its last charge.  Break Technology shattered one of the shield drives on the maimframe; though he was sad to see it had a backup.  Either this one was smarter, or just older.

Bullets started slamming into the shield before James had fully acknowledged that he was *moving*.  But when his conscious brain caught up, it fell in line with what was going on.  Keep moving forward, keep shooting.  His gun clicked empty ten seconds later, and he mechanically drew on his yellow-granted ability to drop the magazine out and slot another from his armor webbing into place.  Behind him, a *boom* signaled Alanna pulling the trigger on her shotgun as she fell into pace behind him.

The shields of the maimframe flickered, but held.  And then it retaliated.

James rolled forward, spiked sticks of RAM flying over his head.  A couple caught on his armor, shattering on impact and not penetrating, but knocking him off balance.  He recovered, and kept moving, knowing that sitting still would mean death.  Behind him, *hundreds* of shots were missing as the maimframe failed to lead its target, and he knew he wouldn’t survive *that*, armor or no.

Then the rest of the group caught up.  And for them, there wasn’t any surprise.  The gunfire had been a good enough alert, and they rounded the corner weapons ready.  James heard pistol fire from the rear of their formation as someone, probably Dave, cleaned up the striders in pursuit.  But it was Nate’s voice that dominated the battlefield while James slid forward, and turned the fall into a kick that knocked a table over with a graceless flip and used as cover for the rain of RAM that followed him.

“*AIM*”  He heard the shout, and the maimframe certainly did too, as it turned toward where Nate was standing behind four delvers, crouched, with shotguns braced hard against their shoulders in hands that trembled slightly.  More people still running were crossing the distance between the firing line and where James had made his makeshift fort.

“Shit!”  James yelped as a spike caught his thigh, slicing through the weaker armor on the side.  But the thing wasn’t focusing on him anymore.  He popped up, unloading another magazine into it before ducking back behind the table as the maimframe opened some kind of port on its side facing him, and let out a high pitched whine that started to *melt the table he was using as cover*.

He felt panic.  Not for himself, but for the stationary targets that everyone else had made for themselves.  They were going to get torn apart.  Then Secret exploded across the underside of the machine beast, and it faltered for a processor cycle, forgetting that the enemies were there.

“*FIRE*”  Nate bellowed, following his own advice.  Every gun the delvers had on them unloaded, the heavy double-ought shells adding a punch to the constant peppering of the nine millimeters that everyone had been issued.  A wall of solid sound hit James like a punch, and he could see more delvers than just himself flinch, even through the earplugs.

The shield dropped on the first volly.  And no one stopped firing.  Nate and Alanna worked fastest, pumping more firepower into the massive shellaxy at twice the rate of anyone else.  But everyone was shooting, and it took *seconds* for the maimframe to just be ripped apart under the onslaught.

“*HOLD FIRE*”  Nate ordered, and a few seconds later, everyone caught up to the words.

When the shooting died down, James took over.  “Move!”  He yelled.  “Don’t stop, we’re almost there!”

There was no telling what surprises would be available for them if they stalled now.  They needed to close the gap, get to the tower, and get the hell out of here.

Anesh detoured to the maimframe’s corpse to grab the massive green orb as they got moving again.  James’ would have yelled at him, but his throat felt bone dry, and he could taste gunpowder through the numb skin of his hands.  Instead, he just stood and ushered everyone forward.  Move.  *Move*.  Almost there.

Stepping off the laminated floor and through the arched door of the tower was like snapping into a different world.

Suddenly, they were safe.  The camracondas crowded around the delvers, the humans and infomorphs finding themselves beset by curious snakes who had really only met James before.  Rattling hisses filled the air, and shortly after, relieved laughter did too.

Sarah flopped down onto the floor, hugging the nearest camraconda she could get her hands on like it was a giant tube-pillow, her laughter a bell that rang through the tower.  James found himself standing off to the side with the colony’s leader, watching his companions meet the snakes for the first time.  Nervously, at first, but with an energy that came from having just survived a fight to the death.  Making friends through shared trauma; nothing beat it for efficiency.  Even El, trying to be standoffish and separate herself from the Order, found a couple of the younger camracondas tugging at her jeans and drawing a small smile from her.

“Is everything ready to go?”  James asked quietly, and the old snake next to him nodded.  There was a small hiss, as a drop of liquid fell from its eye to the worn carpet of the floor.

This place had been home for them for god only knew how long.  They were prisoners, and survivors, but… they were also the first.  Pioneers of freedom.  Leaving wasn’t an entirely easy thing.

But they were doing it.

Twenty minutes later, the first batch of five blipped out as Simon tore a page off his telepad.  Then another, then another.  Five by five, carrying only their art with them, they began the second exodus from this place that James had overseen.

The last ones out were himself, the eldest, and the high priestess.  James took with him the body of the lady of the tower, and the assembled history of the first free camraconda colony.

And just like that, they freed a people.

____

The flow of time slammed into James parallel to the scent of fresh air, and *instantly* his stomach revolted at the shift.  Or maybe it was his spleen.  Or all three of his spleens.  Did James have extra speens?  He sure as fuck felt like it right now.

There was a *very* unpleasant noise and smell as several people, even forewarned, failed to hold onto their lunch, James mercifully not among them.  But then, his body stabilized, and he rose to his feet.

The camracondas were looking worriedly at their human allies.  And now was the moment of truth; but after long minutes, they stayed themselves.  The dungeon, it seemed, couldn’t see their tower, and it couldn’t see outside itself.  Now they knew for sure.

And then the snakes started exploring.  Cautiously at first, they began nosing around the asphalt, the parked cars, the shrubbery around the building.  Then with more vigor, roaming with awkward twitches of their tails, never having had this much space to move before.

“Alright.”  James announced, his heart glowing with satisfaction.  “Let’s get you guys inside for now, and see if any of you like human food.”

A chorus of snake hissing and human cheers met him.

Now he just had to hope the massive green Anesh picked up spawned them a second floor to the building.  They were gonna need to figure *something* out to house these guys.  But that was logistics, not the passion of the moment.  And right now was the time to feel the night air and the faint hint of rain, not to worry about whether or not he’d have to start absorbing the nearby buildings into his operation.

Now was also the time to see if camracondas liked chicken.