The Daily Grind - Chapter 113 (Patreon)

Two *hours* late this time!  I'm slipping!

Also, holy shit, I didn't mention this last time, but I blew right past a hundred patrons when I wasn't looking.  You guys... have no idea what this means to me.  With my hours at work cut due to plague reasons, I make the majority of my money off writing now.  This is an insane point in my life, and I wouldn't be here without all your help.  You keep me going.  Thank you. 

_____

James woke up to the sound of construction work.

This, on its own, wouldn’t be a huge deal.  But then he realized where he was, and concern started to mount rapidly.  James jolted upright, throwing Sarah off his chest as he sat up straight, sleep pulling at the back of his skull.  Who the hell was doing construction in his secret base?

“Ten more minutes.”  Sarah mumbled next to him.

For a reason James was uncomfortably aware of, that sounded hauntingly familiar.  He smiled down at her anyway, and poked her in the side.  “If I’m up and tired, you hafta get up too.  Those are the rules.”  James swung himself out of bed, sitting with his legs dangling over the side and realizing he was still dressed.  He needed to keep a change of clothes here.

“Nuuuu.”  Sarah groaned out.  “Here…” She reached out, and flopped her hand onto the back of his neck.

In an instant, James felt something change.  He felt himself waking up, a flood of energy and readiness pouring into him, and he could clearly tell it was coming from Sarah.  After about two seconds, she dropped her hand back down, and the feeling stopped, but the sensation that he’d just gotten three hours of sleep persisted.

“Kay.”  She mumbled drowsily.  “You’re ‘wake now.  I’mma sleep for some more.”

Before James could reply, she was snoring again.  “Corridor open, eh?”  He muttered, remembering the message from just after they’d fallen asleep.  “I need to tell Anesh and Alanna about this.”  He thought about it for a second as he stood and crept out of the room, trying not to bump into any furniture in the darkness as he quietly Shoved his gun back into his holster.  “Or does that make it harder, if you’re trying to force a bond? Maybe I should send them on a road trip together.”  He mused as he silently stepped out into the hallway.

The silence was rapidly broken by the sound of a motor running, and stone breaking.

“Oh, right.”  James sighed.  “*That*. Well.  Let’s see what the fuss is.”

It took him longer than he’d like to admit to find the source of the sound.  The ‘residential’ side of the basement contained more twisting halls than the more open layout of the other side.  The part of James that loved management games cringed a bit at how haphazard all the little rooms down here were, before the larger space that served as a sort of storage zone for all the random stuff that had spawned down here, as well as a little lounge area.

When he did find the noise, it was in that open part of the floor.  Someone had shuffled around the stacked boxes to make a little alcove up against the far wall, pushing the furniture into a clump to the side.  A pair of humming air filters sat on one of the plush chairs, working overtime to deal with the dust in the air.  As James approached, he heard indistinct yelling, followed by the roar of a small motor, and more cracking of stone.

He came to a coughing stop as a plume of concrete dust washed out over the area, leaning against a cardboard box labeled ‘Christmas lights’ that had a motorcycle helmet on top of it as he tried to pull his shirt up to use as a makeshift mask.

When the noise and health hazard stopped, James stepped around the barricade and spoke up in his most commanding voice.  “What in the hell is going on here?”  He demanded.

There were three people here.  All of them in hardhats, with breathing masks on.  He recognized Ethan by name, the kid watching wide eyed and holding up a bucket as one of the other survivors worked a concrete saw against the wall.  Harvey stood off to the side, a tool that looked like a miniaturized jackhammer in his hands as he broke down chunks of rock.  They all stopped as James walked up.

“Oh!”  Ethan perked up instantly.  “We’re mining for gold!”

James blinked.  Thought about it for a second.  And then just nodded.  “Okay.”  He said.

“Did you… want to know… anything about that?”  Harvey asked, his deep voice both suspicious and amused all at once.

“Not really.”  James said.  He felt weird.  Like he *should* be trying to hide a yawn, but instead, he was electrically awake, his brain already having caught up to the extra infusion of whatever ‘rest’ was.  This seriously opened up the potential usefulness of the attic.

“Not at all?”  Harvey was becoming increasingly incredulous.  “We’re cutting up the wall here, man.”

“You’re mining out the extra ore vein that the green orb added, presumably because JP just learned that it’s actually kind of difficult to turn his investment portfolios into liquid cash in a rapid fashion, and we need something we can take to an unsuspecting pawn shop so we can have a few hundred untraceable bucks to buy… I’m gonna say bullets?”

“A van.”  Ethan supplied.  “How did you…”

Harvey shushed him with a calm hand on the shoulder.  “We’ll be done in about forty five minutes.”

“Good.”  James nodded at him.  “Other people are trying to sleep.”  He called over his shoulder as he started walking away, heading to the spiral staircase that led back up to the main floor, and the waking world with it.

He had a lot left to do before this evening.

_____

Their plan had mostly solidified.  The whole Order was moving, they were just in last minute prep mode now.  

For some people, that meant scrambling to get together the gear that everyone would be using, or going over insertion points with the different assault teams.  For others, it meant getting last minute crash courses in non lethal takedowns, paired hand in hand with their instructors getting crash courses in how to do that in concert with a camraconda.

For Alanna, it involved funneling a steady supply of the magic coffee from the second coffee machine they’d brought out of the Office into her mouth.

There were other things, obviously.  She was currently in the process of copying a blueprint up to a standing whiteboard so that they could draw lines on it for the projected paths of their invasion. But the coffee helped.

The first machine they… and by ‘they’, she meant ‘James and Anesh’... had found was, essentially, a stat boost.  It took whatever the real world version of ‘agility’ was and stapled an extra zero to the end of your score.  The only downside to it, as she knew from experience, was that if you overclocked the body too much, you got a wicked crash that involved almost instant unconsciousness.

This machine was similar in a lot of ways.  Except it also made french press.  And instead of agility, if you had to pick a stat it upped, it was *wisdom*.

The clarity that it offered helped Alanna immensely with coping with the guilt, self pity, and ruby-entered fury that came along with the thought that her sisters had been kidnapped or killed.  As an added bonus, she thought to herself, sipping her fourth cup as she drew on the board with her free hand, overdosing on this stuff caused memory loss, too!

“Hey.”  The voice behind her was concerned, and low.  She already knew it was James, so she didn’t turn to look at him.  “You got a minute?”

“I am nothing but free time.”  Alanna replied, blandly.  She knew that James was wincing behind her back.  She also knew that he felt possibly more guilt than she did.  It was strange, how the combination of her enhanced empathy and the coffee made it so easy to not only see the web of emotions, but to connect with them. His guilt didn’t make her angry, or vindicated, or anything really.  She understood it, and accepted that he really felt that way; it wasn’t just a show from James lit it was for some people.  It was earnest, because he cared.

She could also feel how much he loved her.  Alanna wouldn’t tell him that; it might, no, *would* embarrass him in  a way that wouldn’t be funny right now.  She’d let him know the next time they were linked.

“I’m worried about you.”  James said.  “But you probably knew that.  I just want to know if there’s something I can do to help.”

Alanna shook her head, finally turning around.  She tried to keep a small smile on her face, but knew it felt sad even as she did so.  “You’re already doing it.”  She said.  Then she actually saw the look on James’ face.  “Are you okay?”  She asked him, a little surprised.

“I’m… no.”  He said.  “I thought I was, but somewhere halfway up the stairs from the basement, I remembered that I shot a human being in the head about seven times yesterday, and I… um… I… ah shit.”  James listlessly let himself slump to the floor, leaning against the side of the desk near where Alanna was working, mercifully concealed from the other people in the command space.

“Buddy…” Alanna sympathetically sat with him, eyes wide in concern.  “Talk to me?”

“I… ah.”  James took a shaky breath, before finding actual words to say.  “I’m just trying to keep busy.”  He said.  “I haven’t had a chance to think about it.  I don’t...want to.”

“You’ve killed people before.”  Alanna told him.  “Why’s this different?”

James sighed, and she could feel even more guilt coming from him, now in a rainbow of different flavors.  “I guess I never really internalized thinking of some of the dungeon life as ‘people’.  Which is… honestly, super racist, now that I say it out loud.  But I’m around humans all day.  Have been my whole life.  And it just feels more *real* all of a sudden.”

“Was it not okay to fight the dungeon life?”  Alanna asked, deliberately leading him.

“Of course it was.”  James blinked.  “I mean, we never just randomly ambushed things.  Except for a shellaxy once, actually, which I now *really* feel bad about.  Oh, and the plants, but fuck those things.”

Alanna barked out a surprised laugh.  “Right.”

“But yeah, it was always self defense.  Or holding the line when we rescued everyone.”

“But not this time?”  She asked, voice steady.

James breathed again.  “This time too.  I know.”  He said.  “I know.  And the worst part is, I know I’d do it again.  I just… wish I didn’t have to.”

Alanna leaned over, and wrapped thick arms around her boyfriend, bringing him in for a crushing hug.  “Okay.”  She said.  “Just remember that you’re important to me.  Anesh, too.  *Everyone*, really, but they don’t get to sleep with you.”  She leaned back, and eyed him, grinning a bit as he recovered.  “Except Sarah, I guess.”

“There were no beds!”  James protested, throwing his hands in the air.  “Oh, also.  We actually need to seriously start delving the attic. And I… should not explain why.”

Alanna raised an eyebrow.  Her empowered brain, mixed with the memory enhancement that Anesh had passed out to everyone, brought exactly one reason to mind that was relevant here.  “Interesting.”  She said, instead, not wanting to spoil James’ fun.  “Anyway.  I need to get back to putting the windows where they’re supposed to be on my map.  And I’m guessing you have things to do, too.”

“Lunch.”  James nodded, a somewhat stable smile on his lips.  “Also checking in with Anesh.”

“Good luck.”  Alanna told him, and meant it.  “He’s been angrier than I have.  And I am… displeased.”  The word dripped with a sneered rage.

“I’ll see if I can help him.  Or at least keep him company.”  James said.  “At least by tonight we’ll have answers.”

“Or die searching.”  Alanna whispered as James walked out toward their dining room.

_____

“Spire-Cast-Behind is just such a cool name.”  James said, longingly.  He sat at a corner table in their dining and gym area, thinking that they really needed to expand if they were going to keep adding people.  The tables weren’t really enough to hold everyone when the whole crowd was here.  He was also thinking that he needed better tables.  These red lacquered things with the attached hard benches were just… not what he wanted in his life.

Anesh sat with him, shifting uncomfortably on his own bench.  His eyes flicked up in a hard look when James spoke, then back down to his laptop.  He didn’t respond.

There was a feeling of worry in the air, especially around his friend.  James was doing what he could to dispel it, and it wasn’t really working.  “It’s just that kind of mythological language, you know?”  He sipped at his coffee.  “I like that kinda thing.  It feels *heroic*.  And here I am, stuck with ‘James’.”

“I’m trying to work.”  Anesh snapped.  “Please shut up.”

James sighed.  “Man, you’ve been over that thing ten times by now.  You’re not going to find a secret win for us in there.”  He glanced over at the table next to theirs where Secret was eating lunch with El and a few others.  “Not you, sorry.”  He apologized as Secret’s eyes swiveled toward him.

“James, not now.”  Anesh hissed out, not raising his eyes.

Now that was really worrying.

“Hey.”  James said softly, leaning over and lowering his head to meet Anesh’s.  “It’s gonna be okay.”  He told his boyfriend.  “We’ll get through this, it’s okay to take a break.”  He looked at the untouched sandwich and chips next to Anesh.  “A *real* break, where you aren’t driving yourself to the bone.”

For a second, it seemed like Anesh was going to listen to him.  He took a deep breath, and slapped the laptop shut.  But then, he stood up and looked at James with hurt eyes.  “My parents might be dead.”  He said.  “Along with my last memories of them.  I don’t have time for this; I need actual help.  I’m going to go make another self.”  He disengaged himself from the cafeteria bench, and stalked out of the room.

A wave of quiet followed in his wake.  

James blinked away watery eyes and tried to cover up how much that had hurt.  “Well.”  He said, turning toward Spire-Cast-Behind, who had been coiled on the bench opposite Anesh, sampling a salad.  “That could have gone better.”

_____

“What we need is a way to observe the building from overhead, without being spotted.”  James was telling Dave.  “I dunno if you or JP have any ideas?  The drones we have are okay for doing sweeps around it, but even that might be arousing suspicion, and we don’t want to get close enough to the building to be spotted anyway.”

“I could purchase the building?”  JP suggested, raising a hand with a casual shrug and a snarky look on his face.  “It’s kind of an option now.”

“I thought that we *weren’t* doing finance crimes anymore.”  James chided him.

“It’s only a crime if you’re being illegal about it.  I’ve just started keeping a record of my research and logic chains, and that will be more than enough for if the SEC investigates.”  JP retorted.  “Also I’m thinking of setting us up as a fiduciary, so I can invest on behalf of everyone here.  It would let us move a lot more money.  Legally.  Probably.”

“Isn’t a fiduciary license something you actually need to… oh.”  James rolled his eyes as JP held up and furiously pointed to a handful of orbs.  “Of course you did.”

“Anyway, no.  No idea how to get eyes on the roof.  Why, wondering if they might have an escape helicopter?”

“Well I am *now*.”  James groaned.  “Of course they might actually have a helicopter.  That would be actually a nightmare.”

“We can check.”  Dave chimed in, from where he was grooming Pendragon a few desks away against the back wall.  He was running one of the sanitizer rags from the kitchen over her laminated ‘scale’ pages, leaving the massive dragon amalgamation looking polished.  Much to her own pride.

“I said stealthy.”  James informed him.

“We can do stealthy.”  Dave nodded. “Pen ate that one desk lamp that makes itself invisible when it’s on.  So as long as we go during the day, should be basically impossible to see.”

“Wait.  Wait, back that up.”  JP leaned over his desk to look at Dave, sharing a confused glance with James as the two of them did a double take together.  “She ate the lamp?”

Dave nodded as he tossed the rag onto the desk surface behind him, and stepped around to the front of the bus-sized creature that was his companion.  “Oh yeah!  Did I not tell you guys about that?  She can incorporate magic stuff into her structure, and then sorta use it.  I think it’s her way of using blues? Though she can do that too.  Actually, I bet if you, like, replaced one of your bones with a magic pencil or something, you’d be able to do it too.”

“Bones.”  JP said, voice oozing sarcasm.  “Our bones.”

“Yeah.”  Dave nodded, oblivious.

“Dave you have to tell us things like this.”  James said.  “We have, like, a chat server, a bullitan board, and also a podcast sort of.  There are *ways*.”

“Alright, I‘ll remember that for the future.”  Dave said.  “Anyway.  Stealth flight.  We’re on it.”  He stepped up toward Pendragon, and she bent her neck down to nuzzle him affectionately.  He took her face in his hands, and gave her a light headbutt before stepping back.  “Alright girl, time to fly.”  He said, solemnly.

Pendragon didn’t speak, didn’t emote.  That wasn’t really her jam, compared to the rest of the Life that counted itself among the ranks of the team.  But she did respond right away, without hesitation.  She reared up onto her hind legs, and without ceremony, Pendragon’s chest split open.  There was a seam down the middle, invisible if you didn’t know what you were looking for, and now it cracked apart with a dry hissing sound, revealing the outline of a metal cabinet, doors swinging open on oiled hinges.

Her insides were clean; more than you’d normally expect from someone’s chest cavity.  Ribs made of desk lamp goose necks; flexible metal bars that curved to dangerous points as they protected and supported her interior.  As she settled into place, the lights on the end of those lamps flickered to life, revealing trails of paper clips and cables that led down from Pendragon’s ‘organs’ and surface to… a coat?

A leather jacket.  A nice black one, a lot like what James preferred.  It sat perched like a scarecrow, elbows pulled up high, flapping slightly in the breeze that formed when Pendragon opened up.  It was the centerpiece of her self, illuminated and on display.

Dave stepped forward, turning around and sliding his arms into it without having to look.

“No, wait.  No.  Hang the fuck on.”  James said, holding up an accusatory finger.  Next to him, JP had just flopped his chest onto his desk as he stared, knocking the container of untested pens to the floor and causing one of them to start glowing slightly.  No one noticed.  No one *could* notice.

“What?”  Dave asked curiously as he pulled his arms down, testing tension against the bonds and hooks.  He reached behind himself and pulled up an ethernet cable up to the recently formed skulljack on his neck, and plugged himself in.

“No!  Dave, what the shit is this?!”  James demanded, somewhere between shock and fascination.  “When the hell did this *happen*?!”

Dave’s body rippled like he was trying to shrug, but the gesture didn’t come across through the coat.  He kicked up, and planted his feet on a small lipped platform inside Pendragon.  Around him, the lights started to flick off and the ribs began closing, the coat pulling him back into an immobile position.  “We’ve been practicing, I guess?”  He failed to explain anything.  “Anyway.  We’re ready to go.”  Dave spoke with two voices.  Around him, Pendragon sealed herself shut, her eyes flashing with a combined intelligence.  “Objective Weaponry, ready.”  An echoing voice came through the dragon’s body as she slammed her forelegs back down.

“Dave, I swear to god.”  James pinched the bridge of his forehead as he shook his head.  “You need to tell us about these things.”

But the dragon had already made its way out the back, manipulating the controls to the sheet metal garage door with more skill than Pendragon had ever shown with her office chair foreclaws.  And with a few beats of her massive laminated wings, she and her passenger kicked off the ground in a plume of dust, shimmering from an obvious target to an indistinct blur of slightly-brighter sky as they took to the air.

“God dammit Dave.”  JP yelled after him, finally finding his voice.  “Stop fucking one-upping everyone else’s bullshit!”

James said nothing.  Oh, he’d absolutely been *thinking* that, too.  But it would be uncouth to actually yell it himself.  Especially as the supposed leader of this mess.

So he was really glad JP had done his work for him.

_____

James caught his breath, strangling the panic attack he was having as the elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened.  He nodded politely to Deb as the two of them traded places, neither having the time or energy for small talk right now.  As the elevator doors closed on her, leaving James alone in the service corridor of the non-residential basement, he let the civilized neutrality slip off his face again for a second.

Alanna was right.  It wasn’t his fault, and sometimes, violence was the only way to protect what mattered most.

But it still sucked that he couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking.

Clamping down on his thoughts as hard as he could, he started walking, trying not to stumble as he made his way toward the cluster of friendly shellaxies, and also the rest of their R&D department.

The shellaxies were, James was discovering, about as delightful to hang around as their names implied.  He’d initially been kind of exasperated at having the full names used every time, but after hanging around the things a few times, he got into the mindset of understanding that Ice Cream Cake was a perfectly reasonable title for something as playful as the boxy computer case and the life hiding inside it.

Unfortunately, he was not here to hand out treats of USB sticks to Peanut Butter Cup, Assorted Jelly Beans, and their friends, but instead to visit Virgil.

“Virgil.”  James greeted the prickly programmer as he wandered through the penned area, trying not to grin too much at the shellaxies bumping playfully into his legs and trying to rifle through his pockets with their cord tentacles.  “Anything to report?  Did anyone figure out what that anomalous program is converting files into?”

“Two things, and no.”  The man said, ever succinct.  “One.  The emerald chips create programs that can be copied.  Though, it’s worth noting, once copied, or modified in any way, they stop evolving on all platforms.”

“Weird but sure.”  James acknowledged.  “Second thing?”

Virgil looked up at him, finally stopping the rapid fire typing he’d been keeping up as James walked in.  “Still on the first thing.  I have a list of ideas, but we have about thirty extra chips from what you and the annoying girl brought back..”

“Hey.”

Virgil ignored the offended protest.  “...so if you have anything specific you want, let me know, and we’ll get it started growing.  Long term is better, obviously.  Also more specific is *way* better.  These things suck at general artificial intelligence.”

“Anything to report about *the events going down tonight*, the thing that is putting colossal stress on everyone in the building?” James asked, with firm emphasis on the fact that this was important, and maybe Virgil could pay at least 80% of his attention to him.

Another nod, as if of *course* he had something relevant.  How could James think he wouldn’t have something ready to go for the big presentation? His *raise* was on the line.

James tried to smother the annoyance, and found it hard.  Of course, when Virgil actually started talking, it got easier.

“This is a skulljack device, that interfaces with the wireless braid.”  Virgil told him, holding up what looked like the case for a cigarette lighter with a bundle of zip-tied wires coming out the back.  “This first, then the braid.  It has specific protocols loaded as firmware that allow for some extra functions without needing extra focus.”  He kicked back in his chair, looking like he wanted to absorb the appreciation like it was sunlight on a plant.  “Not all my doing; the support group helped me work out the language the skulljack is speaking.  But I’ve got a bunch of these ready to go.”

“What extras?”  James asked, curious and wondering if it would be worth it this late in the game.

“Shared vision and dialogue without emotional or memory bleed.  Also the ability to pass on spatial impressions of an area.  Haven’t gotten it rigged to share muscle memory yet, but we’re working on it.”  Virgil said the words with so much smugness that James was worried it might be a memetic hazard.

Instead of rolling his eyes, though, he asked the other question that was on his mind.  “Weren’t you doing security programming?  Like, trying to find ways to block unwanted mental intrusions?”

“I’ve got a chip working on something for that.  This was easier.”

“How can this possibly be easier than what is essentially a firewall?”  James half-demanded.  He wasn’t mad, just curious, in a very aggressive way.

Virgil shrugged, finally bothering to look up from his screen as he alt-tabbed out of whatever he was doing.  “Firewalls are actually pretty tricky.”  He said, as if that was an explanation.  The rational part of James’ mind was actually quite annoyed that he understood enough programming to get why that was the case; it would have been much more satisfying to just blame the smarmy jackass in front of him.  “Anyway.  This is the finished design, loaded with the latest stable build.  It’s not that sleek, we’ll work on that later, but it should hold up in a crisis, and it seemed like it would be useful for… tonight.”

“Yeah.  It actually seriously will be.”  James nodded in acknowledgement.  “Well.  Thank you.”  He huffed out, meaning it less than he might have wanted to, but more than not at all.  “Anything else before I head back upstairs?”

Virgil looked around the room, now more fully present in the physical space.  There *were* other people down here, doing last minute once-overs of the stuff in the vault, or testing various items to see if they had usable potential.  A couple people were just going through pencils at a rate of about ten a minute, snapping them if they didn’t do anything obvious and amalgamating a growing pile of tiny blues.   “Yeah.”  Virgil mentioned with a sudden serious expression.  “When you finalize the teams, can you make sure R&D is split up?”

“What?”  James stumbled over the words in his brain.

“Don’t put us all in the same squad.  In case one group gets wiped out.”  Virgil said, and James noticed out of the edges of his perception that the others in the room had gone still; listening in.  “We’re learning so much down here.  So many little things that I don’t know how to explain properly.  Memetics, infomorphic life, xenotech, orb theory, skulljack processes, it’s all *here*.  This basement is the center of the most cutting edge knowledge on Earth right now.”

James raised a single finger and simply started to say “Ah…”

Virgil cut him off.  “That we know of.  Sure.  But my point stands.  We’re poised to reshape humanity, and bring about a new golden age of science.  So make sure we don’t all die, okay?”

“I was actually,” James cleared his throat awkwardly, “under the impression that no one here would be engaging in combat?”

There was a moment of silence, followed by a burst of nervous laughter from one of the tables behind James.  Virgil looked at him like he’d just sprouted a hostile shrubbery out of his head, eyebrows askew in a complex display of mocking puzzlement.  “Seriously?”  He asked, voice dry.  “You plan on going to war with the group that wants us all dead anyway, and expect us to just sit here?”

“...Nnnnnnnno.”  James let the word linger, only barely avoiding making it a question.

“Alright.  Good.”  Virgil said, turning back to his computer.  He started typing away again, and it was only then that James noticed the cable connecting his skulljack to the PC anyway.  He snorted a laugh as he headed back to the elevator, snagging a few blues on the way.

Even when he was being serious and dramatic, Virgil couldn’t stop multitasking and splitting his attention.

_____

“What’s going on?”  Was the first thing Lua said as she came through the front door.

James was there to meet her; someone on the roof had radioed in the instant Momo’s car had signaled for the turn into the parking lot, the younger girl having been dispatched to pick up Lua from the hospital.  Lua had been nervous about teleporting ever since the topic was brought up, and Momo had wanted some fresh air anyway, so it was a reasonable compromise, given that no one seemed to be looking for either of them.

“I’ll get to that.  First off, how are Simon and Matt?”  James asked bluntly, turning to walk toward his office and motioning for the ladies to follow him.  The two of them made for stark contrast, the difference between Momo’s studded leather jacket and neon green hair and Lua’s business professional style skirt and jacket would have been hilarious to James’ mind any other day.  Right now, though, they just needed to talk.

“Simon is doing good.”  Momo said, sounding exhausted.  “He has six broken ribs, and his entire back is one big bruise, but he’ll live.”  She sagged into the chair in James office, leaving Lua to quirk an eyebrow and politely lean against the door as she closed it behind them.  “I already texted my James.”

“He’s sleeping.”  James said by way of explanation.  “Um… I don’t mean to pry, but are the two of them dating?”  He asked Momo.  “Because I… actually can’t remember seeing them not tapped into each other, and he took the news that Simon got hurt *really* badly.”

‘Badly’ was what historians would later refer to as ‘an understatement’.

Momo just shrugged.  She *knew* the answer, obviously, but it wasn’t her business.

“James.”  Lua said, tilting her head up from the floor to look at him.  “What happened?  What’s going on?”

“The people who tried to kill you,” James told her, and saw her shiver at the words, one hand going to her wrist, “tried to kill those three kids.  They didn’t stop there.  My family is missing.  So is one iteration of Anesh, and his parents.  Alanna’s sisters.  Her mom, too, I guess.  Graham - the other kid’s - parents died last week. I’m guessing the other two have had similar issues.”  His voice cracked as he tried to present the information about what was quite possibly a large number of deaths without any emotion.  “Left unanswered, they will, eventually, get back on our trail, and kill, or disappear, us.  Known targets are obviously myself, Alanna, and Anesh, but I’m guessing you’re on the list too.  They don’t seem wise to the fact that we have backup, though.  So.  Everyone is here, and we’re planning… well, to kick down their door and cause problems on purpose.”

“Is that… do you really need to?”  Lua sounded anxious, and James saw her scratching at her skin while she spoke.

He looked at her steadily, cutting off Momo’s shocked protestation.  “I wish…” he started to say, and then had to look away as he felt a wave of guilt and self loathing creep up again.  “I wish none of this had happened.”  He whispered.  “And I wish there was literally any other way to handle this.  But they didn’t try to talk, they didn’t outline some kind of international dungeon standard rules and then ask us politely to follow them.  They came in shooting.  At *children*.  At *noncombatants*.”  James looked down at his hands resting on his desk, fingers tightened unwillingly into claws.  “They can surrender if they want to.  We’ll dismantle their organization, and send ‘em packing.  But if it comes to it…”

“Waste the fuckers.”  Momo filled in, getting a disapproving glare from Lua.

“More or less.  Though I was going to say it better.”  James told her.  “Also, how’s the other kid?”

“His older sister showed up.”  Lua said.  “I didn’t want to introduce myself, in case there was a problem.  But I checked, she wasn’t an agent.  Oh, that reminds me.”  She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a pair of thin rectangular glasses, carefully setting them on James’ desk.  “Thank you for their use.  But I think you might need them more than me, if this is something you’ll be doing soon.”

“Tonight.”  James said, and Lua winced.

“Are you… at least going to try to open a dialogue?”

“I know you’re a talk therapist, but sometimes, there are problems that words won’t solve.”  James said.

Lua came the closest he’d ever seen to her sneering.  “Those problems are caused by people who don’t operate in good faith.”

“They may have murdered a child.  They’ve certainly murdered a lot of people.”  James reminded her.

“Point.”  Lua conceded.

James picked up the glasses, flicked them open, and settled them on his nose.  He took a glance at Momo and Lua with them on, seeing not-quite-real words hovering tied to the two of them.  ‘Order of Endless Rooms, War Witch’ for Momo, and ‘Order of Endless Rooms, Specialist’ for Lua.  Affiliations, titles.  The most powerful tool any of them had seen to give to Lua to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.  Of course, it required an organization to be part of, not just an ideal.  And it never told the whole story.

“Oh, that also reminds me.”  Momo said as James fiddled with the glasses.  “Here!”  She reached into her courier satchel and pulled out a glimmering copper and ivory bracer.  Momo set the artifact on his desk like it was cracked china, about to fall to powder, and then scooted back in her chair a bit.  “I took this off one of the agents after you left.  Had the fuckin’ thing in my car and totally forgot.  Didn’t have time for the boots, though.”

“Greaves.”

“You don’t need to grieve over it, boss, they’re just boots.”  Momo had the biggest shit-eating grin on her face imaginable.

James cringed as he fell into her trap, but he didn’t hesitate to reach out to the bracer.  But he paused at the last moment.  “Why do you look nervous about this thing?”  He asked her.

“It’s really complicated.”  Momo said, and in that moment, James noticed a thin line of blood leaking from her nose.  He mimed wiping it away, and Momo did so with the edge of her jacket sleeve, seeming unperturbed by it.  “I have, like, four?  Four totems on me right now.  And that thing?  I know if I put it on, it generates a lot of questions that overload the number of things to keep track of.  So yeah, it’s worrying.  I’d actually like to leave the room before you use it.”

“Alright, fair.”  James said.  “You guys are good to go, anyway.  Go get some food, Lua, grab a free bed and take a nap if you need to.  Momo, if you see Ethan around, try to ask him what he’s planning prank wise.”

“What?”

“I’m almost certain he’s planning some kind of prank.  I’m allowing it because it’s good for morale, and because earlier, I took prevenge on him.”  James entirely failed to explain anything despite using two whole sentences.

Lua was already out the door, having left as soon as James said they were good to go, but Momo hesitated to stand up.  “Is it… a good idea to be doing goofy stuff right before we all go almost die?”

“Honestly?”  James asked with a sigh, “Probably not.  But man, you know how it is.  I’m genetically incapable of not trying to turn things into jokes.  Also Ethan is *so easy* to poke fun at.”

Momo snorted.  “Yeah, what in the hell is prevenge, anyway?”  She asked.

“Like revenge, only before they’ve done anything to take revenge on.  It’s preemptive vengeance.”

“And in this case, your vengeance takes the form of…?”

“Tricking a teenager into drinking really weird dungeon soda that tastes like saltwater taffy.”  James confirmed with a grinning nod.

“Eugh!  Why?”

“I don’t understand the question.  Look at me, of course my prevenge is going to be silly and harmless.  Also it only took about two minutes of time, and honestly, there’s an upper limit to how many things I’m needed for.”  James spread his arms, out as if to illustrate his character, still holding the bracer in one hand.

Momo rolled her eyes.  “What if he never does anything to take revenge for?  Then you just did something mean to a kid who idolizes you, *and* your prevenge is wasted.”

“I made him drink bad soda.  He’ll find something to make the prevenge count.”  James dismissed her.  “Now get out of my office so I can check this thing.”  He flicked his hand at her a couple times, shooing her away.  

“You’re like if the Oracle at Delphi was the class clown, and also incredibly lazy.”  Momo shot over he shoulder as she left.

“Thanks!”  James called after her as she shut the door, leaving him to his privacy.  He waited a second, before sighing.  “And if I can make a few people smile before we maybe-all-die… well shit.  I gotta try, right?”  He muttered to himself.  “Now let’s see what this toy is.”  He said in a slightly louder voice, pulling the bracer tight around his forearm and clipping the latch shut on it.

[Stockpile “9mm Bullet Impact” - 18 - 4 / 19,000 - 8:14:3:18 (122) <A>

Battlefield Alteration - 4 - 194 / 1,000 - 2:01:22 (7) <A>]

That was a remarkably specific phrase.  Also, he’d never seen any kind of extranormal effect use *quotation marks* before, even when it was mostly just projecting thoughts into his head.  A little mental probing got him more specific feelings, though.  Both abilities were set to automatic, something he hadn’t realized was an option.  The second one modified the first one.  And that little quirk right there, which probably would have let the agent’s survive a thousand fights unscratched, had gotten them *slaughtered* against a mixed unit that brought a camraconda to a gunfight.

James found the mental command to turn off the automatic use of the second ability, and hit the switch so hard he gave himself a headache.

“Okay.”  He said to his empty office.  “One more tool in the arsenal.”

He stood up, checking the time.  Time for a couple last minute checks, and then…

Well.

Time, and tactical assaults, waited for no one.

_____

“Hey Nate!”  James called as he entered the kitchen, swinging the double doors behind him as he stepped into the chef’s domain.

The place had been transformed, since they’d bought this building.  A run down back room with blackened tile and a few broken appliances that hadn’t been replaced from when this place was a pool hall with a shitty bar had, with the application of a contractor and an infusion of dungeon cash, turned into a polished chrome commercial kitchen.  It wasn’t going to stay utopian forever, and James knew that Nate already had members of the Order helping him keep the place scrubbed to Navy standards every time they used it, but right now it was kind of a great room to be in.

Right now, it smelled like fresh fruit.  Light fare before everyone got their workout in getting shot at.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”  The tattooed chef said, rounding the corner behind the corner the walk-in fridge occupied.  “How ya holding up?”

“I don’t normally.”  James said, turning from where he was leaning against the front serving counter.  “These are-” His words cut off in his throat as he caught sight of Nate through the lenses of the dungeon item.

Nate didn’t notice, or didn’t care.  He just shrugged and ran the rag he had over the counter he’d been cutting melons on, wiping debris and juice into a garbage can.  “You holding up okay?”  He asked James.  “You keep coming in here, and I know that screaming in the walk-in is a tradition, but it’s not supposed to be that frequent.”

“I… ah.”  James shook his head, and looked back at the front wall, reading over the rough menu schedule listed on the calendar.  “Having trouble with hurting humans, I guess.”  James said.  “Got any tips?”

“Kid, I’m the wrong guy to ask about that.”  Nate said with a grunt.

“Why?”

The bald chef shrugged. “Cause I’m not a philosopher.  The closest I get is ‘they were doing bad shit, and you stopped them’.  Good enough.”

“Is it?”  James asked, legitimately wondering.

Nate shot a look at the prep cook who was helping him plate up food, and tilted his head at the door, ushering the younger woman out.  “When you hired me, you asked me if I wanted to make the world better.”  Nate said, after a long pause, when the two of them were alone.  “Did you mean that?  Did you really think that you could fix everything by yourself?”

“Obviously not.”  James told him.  “That’s why I was hiring people.”

“I mean, your little gui- order.”  Nate autocorrected himself.  “You really believe in a better world.”

“A good world.”  James almost whispered, his voice practically covered by the noise of the kitchen.  “Yeah.”  He said, turning to face Nate again.  “I believe in that.”

Nate tossed the rag he’d been rolling in his hands into a sanitizer bucket halfway across the room.  “Well then.”  He said.  “Check in on that feeling every now and then.”  He advised.  “Make sure you still believe in why you’re doing what you’re doing.  If you do, then you’ll tend to do stuff that’s worth it.”  Nate shrugged.  “It’s why I’m still here.  Why I was okay fighting with you.  Why I’ll be there tonight.  You believe in it, kid, and I don’t think you’re gonna kill anyone who didn’t need it at the time.”

James looked at him, really looked at him, for a long minute.  Then he nodded.  “Yeah.  Okay.”  James reached up and took off the glasses, folding them and setting the thin rectangular frames on the counter.  “Thanks.  That actually does help, even if I’m not sure I agree with you all the way.”

“No worries.”  Nate said.  “Now get out of the kitchen.  I’ve got stuff to do in the next hour.”  James grinned, and shot him a wave over his shoulder as he walked back out the door.  With a rough snort, Nate motioned his prep cook back in from the back patio.  “What a weird kid.”  He muttered, idly picking up the discarded glasses.

“He’s a hero.”  The prep cook informed Nate firmly as she set back to slicing apples into wedges.

“Bah.”  Nate mentioned.  “Just because he saved a hundred or so people from certain death…” He raised the glasses up to his eyes, pushing his own up his forehead to see how bad James’ vision really was.  “Huh.”  He didn’t notice a difference as he swept his gaze around the kitchen.  But then, his eyes landed on his prep cook.

‘Order of Endless Rooms, Aspirant’.

“What’s up?”  The girl asked when she noticed Nate looking at her.

“Oh.”  Nate looked down at the glasses in his hand, realizing what he’d just seen.  What *James* had just seen.  “Fuck.”  But the kid hadn’t said anything.  Hadn’t even gotten mad.  He’d just listened, and trusted.

Nate hoped he’d never have to betray that trust.  But one way or another, if he was called on to do it, it wouldn’t be today.

_____

If a government spy satellite was around overhead, watching the parking lot of a certain commercial-industrial flex-space-turned-secret-lair, then whoever was keeping an eye on the video feed would be *confused*, at least.

Thirty humans, sixteen camracondas, one sentient drone, one mostly incorporeal infomorph, and one dragon made of office supplies had gathered together in the open.  All but one of the humans were in body armor, black shell plate covering vital areas and hosting a combat rigging that held extra ammunition, orb pouches, handcuffs, tasers, and other assorted tools.  All of the camracondas were in armor, too, their snake bodies concealed in custom-shaped plate that had been run off in record time thanks to the green orb buff that made it faster to produce ‘clothing’.  The infomorph didn’t have armor, because Secret was going to be hiding for most of the fight.  Pendragon didn’t have armor either, because she was a dragon.  There were a *lot* of guns present.  Also a lot of magic items, mostly doled out to the snakes that didn’t have hands for guns.  Almost everyone had a blue, and about a third of them were very relevant in combat.

All the humans except James were wearing masks.  They weren’t armored masks; just a pile of face coverings bought from the party supply store a half mile away to conceal identity.  It was strange to have everyone standing there, most of them in masks of various animal faces, looking like they were going to an exceptionally well-armed masquerade ball.  Pendragon also wore a mask, because Dave said she felt left out.

James was in a black leather jacket, black slacks, and black sunglasses.  Because, he realized, he was kind of a parody of himself.

There was a plan.  There were two plans, actually.  One, then the other if the one didn’t work.

The second plan had been hashed out after a day and a half of nonstop tactical planning and meticulous work.  The first plan had been added by James an hour ago.  Ten minutes ago, Alanna and Anesh had stopped yelling at him.  They knew he was right, they knew that it was the right thing to do.  Alanna could feel it coming off him, and Anesh was logical enough to understand the ethics, even when he was angry.  James was trusting his instincts.   And now, it was time to move.

The first plan was to offer their enemy one last chance.

Vans full of armed men, women, and serpents were loaded up.  They’d be ready to move in within a minute if the first plan failed.  A half dozen people, plus Dave, crawled inside Pendragon’s internal cavity.  They’d be ready to drop out of the sky in seconds, prepared to storm through the roof access and cover the top floor before they could respond to the ground assault.  And James?

James sat in the driver’s seat of his immortal Subaru, tapping the wheel to the song stuck in his head as he drove.  They were going first.

He pulled into the parking lot of the local office of their enemy.  Parked the car in a handicapped space, completely abandoning the pretense of obeying the law, and stepped out.  He could only imagine the people who watched the security cameras were probably having a minor amount of concern right now.

It was seven PM on a late february evening.  The air was already in the late stage of twilight, going from refreshing to bone-bitingly cold and damp, with a strong wind tossing James’ coat behind him as he shut the driver’s door and took a second to look up at the building before him.  There was some traffic on the road behind him, more on the main roads.  People were going about their lives.  The world kept turning.  Somewhere, normal kids were doing normal homework, normal adults were coming home from work, normal people like he’d been a year ago were going out *to* work on the night shifts.  Some people hated their lives, some people loved them, some people didn’t understand that there was a question to be answered there.  The trees around the office park swayed in the wind, pine boughs throwing shadows across the white streetlights, making monsters out of air and fear in the darkness.

A man and a secret opened a door to an inconspicuous office.

“Hi.”  James said, with a ferocious smile to the *deeply* uncomfortable elderly woman sitting at the receptionist desk.  “I’m sure I’m expected.”  He told her with unbridled confidence.  “I’ve got a meeting with the person in charge.  It’s not going to be on their schedule.  Where can I find them?”

Maybe it was his polite tone.  Maybe it was that he really was expected, and she’d been told to give him directions.  Maybe it was the implicit threat of the gun on his hip, or some part of her could sense the danger of the invisible infomorph wrapped around James like a second armored coat.  But either way, the curly haired mid-fifties woman shook herself out of her stare.

“S-second floor.”  She said.  “I’ll unlock the elevator for you.”

“Appreciated.”  James nodded at her.  “But I’ll take the stairs.”

He strode into the building, noting the number of people still ‘working’, but ignoring their observant eyes on his back.

He had a meeting to get to.