I let out a sigh of relief. Despite what Jeremy had said about a Damsel-led Raid being on hot demand, I wasn’t so sure. The implications of a possible wipe leading to my death would probably turn away more than a few Raid leaders. Who wanted that on their conscious? And even more concerning were the individuals who wouldn’t care about my death. They would take unnecessary risks or even act maliciously if given enough incentive.
Mech being a bit of an ass was offset by him being an open book. It seemed pretty evident that he wouldn’t intentionally lead me to my death or injury, given how little subtlety he seemed to possess.
“How about tonight?” I asked. Better to do this trial Dungeon sooner rather than later. If Mech was going to back out of leading the Raid, I wanted to know today so we could look for a replacement.
“Let me consult my calendar,” he said, his eyes glazing over. Jeremy gave me an annoyed look and pantomimed jerking off under the table. I fought to keep my face neutral, a tight smirk escaping my control before I managed to stuff it back down. “I’m clear for tonight from 6 to 8, game time,” he said after a moment. “Two hours should be enough, given a proper group composition.”
I nodded agreement. “Perfect. Let me check with my healer if he’s free and we’ll-” I stopped as he shook his head. “What’s wrong?”
“We’ll use my people,” he said, his tone flat. “I’d like them to see you in person. After the Dungeon, the five of us will vote on if we can move forward with you in the Raid.”
I bit my lip to keep from blowing up. Over the last two weeks, I had grown accustomed to others deferring to me. It felt odd to have someone dictating terms to me. But I couldn’t help but feel that the deck was being stacked against me. A Dungeon group was five people - tank, healer, and three damage dealers. Meaning, it would be Mech and three of his four officers, and me. I would be at their mercy, essentially. Jeremy noted the same thing and spoke out.
“And how do we know you and your people have no ill intentions towards Ray?” he asked. The phrasing of the question made me feel like a girl going out on her first date. ‘What are your intentions with my daughter?’
Mech seemed taken aback at the question, another brief flash of personality in a sea of businesslike neutrality. “What ill intentions are you referencing?” he asked.
Jeremy scoffed, not buying the ignorant act. “There’s about a million people that want to see my guy in the ground,” he said. “Surely, you’ve heard?”
Mech blinked once, twice, and only on the third blink, did he respond. “I don’t follow politics,” he finally replied.
“Bullshit,” Jeremy accused. “You’re trying to tell me you haven’t heard jack shit about a hundred-man ambush on Ray just yesterday? Or the bounty on his head that’s climbing into the millions? Or all the noise on the streams about how he’s ruining the balance of the game and needs to be eliminated?”
My brow furrowed. “Wait,” I said. “What bounty?” I knew about the bounty Ysillith had put on me, but that hadn’t changed, even after I had killed him. “And what streamers are you talking about?” This was all news to me.
Jeremy’s face dropped. “Oh…um, well we didn’t want to tell you. You already had enough on your plate and piling more shit on top felt wrong…”
“It seems I’m not the only one not following Swords & Sorcery politics,” Mech replied. He arranged the stack of papers into a neat pile and passed them over to me. “Let me be clear, Mr. Davis. I don’t care for PvP, or some bounty, or anything related to you or your situation.” He glanced over at Denise and Ryan for the first time since the meeting had begun. “I agreed to this meeting because I respect Mrs. Monroe’s ability and opinion. She believes you can be an asset in a level 5 Raid.” He pushed his chair back, standing up. “I have no ulterior motives other than organizing an efficient and effective Raid. If you cannot pull your own weight, then you will not be in any Raid I’m in charge of, plain and simple.” He came around the table, and I rose to meet him. “If you agree to signing those waivers, we can do a level 4 Dungeon tonight. From there, my officers and I will make our own determination.” He held out his hand. “Are those terms agreeable?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
There was significant risk in doing a Dungeon without my own Angels to back me up. But Mech was so detached, so impersonal, I couldn’t help but believe him as he made his pitch. I took his hand in my own. “I agree - pending a review of the documents you’ve left with me.”
He nodded, heading for the door without another word.
“Oh, Mech?” Jeremy called out before the man could leave.
“Yes?” he asked, his hand perched on the doorknob.
“If anything happens to Ray - in the Dungeon or the Raid - no amount of paperwork will stop me from finding you.” Jeremy stalked closer, his tone deadly serious. “And when I do, I’ll make you wish-” I grabbed Jeremy’s arm and pulled him back, interrupting his looming threat.
“Please ignore my friend,” I said. “He has a twisted sense of humor.”
Mech made no reply, opening the door and popping through. Jeremy and I went to the open doorway to look out. There was no one there - he had stealthed the moment his feet had crossed the threshold.
Jeremy turned to me. “What a fucking wei-” I slammed the door in case Mech was within earshot. “-rdo!”
I had to agree with Jer’, Mech was an odd duck for sure.
—
There were a couple agenda items I had to address before tonight. First, was the stack of PTSD-inducing waivers Mech had left me with. Upon further introspection, I realized that trying to get Al’s eyes on the legal documents before tonight would be impossible. Al was hard to reach even in the best of times, and I didn’t want to bother him with this bullshit while he was in the middle of a war.
Thankfully, I had a shitload of gold, and there were plenty of ways to convert that into actual credits.
Not S&S sanctioned ways, but I was way past caring about Terms of Service.
It only took about an hour to connect with a broker who was able to send credits to a bank account in Jeremy’s name in exchange for a stack of in-game gold. The going rate was half of the official S&S credit to gold rate, but that was the price of trying to circumvent those restrictions. A quick search determined that a decent lawyer’s retainer was somewhere in the 5000-credit range, or 500,000 gold. With the black-market rate of 50%, that meant I needed to convert a million gold just to get a lawyer to review the documents. After paying out the Skill Competition prize money, that meant I had spent 2 million gold in just the last day - not even mentioning the extortionist prices we had to pay to hire Denise and Ryan, outfit the level 2 Guildhall, and Harold’s Guild Manager fees.
All that to say, I had gone from having more virtual money than I could have made in a single lifetime of Damsel-ing, to now being flat out broke.
Easy come, easy go, I guess.
The second item on my agenda for the day, was actually selecting the skills for the Wolverine Build. The Angels had all wanted to be there, so we had gathered inside the level 1 Hall.
Assembled now were all seven Angels - shit, six…I had forgotten Himdall had quit. I made a mental note to reach out to him later and clear the air. Anyways, all six Angels, my three friends, and all the Guild’s actors were in attendance. We had moved down to the basement where the Training Room was configured.
“Okay, here we go,” I said to the thirteen people arranged around me. “No going back now. Any objections?” Everyone looked around to see if anyone would speak up. When no one did, I copied-and-pasted the build over to my Skill Tree, my finger hovering over the confirm prompt.
“Wait!” Jeremy cried out, his tone panicked.
I ripped my finger away from the button, my heart racing. “What!? What is it!”
“We forgot the Champagne!”
Groans of annoyance filled the basement as a barrage of rebukes assaulted Jeremy.
“Fuck you, Jer’!”
“Don’t scare us like that!”
“Is there even Champagne in S&S?”
My pulse came back down and I shook my head in exasperation. “Dammit, Jer’! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
Jeremy flashed us all a whimsical smile, then withdrew two bottles of honest-to-God Champagne from his inventory. “Oh, wait! Here they are!”
The annoyance in the room flipped to cheers as Jeremy passed out bottles to each of us.
“Maybe you should say a few words?” Denise suggested.
My stomach flipped. I hated public speaking - even in a room full of friends. “Um, that’s okay-”
“Speech! Speech! Speech!” That was Kink, that fucker. The cries of ‘Speech’ were picked up across the room.
I held up my hands in defeat. “Alright, alright! Will you all just shut up and let me think!”
The chant slowly petered out, my mind racing.
Speak from the heart, Ray!