ZETA

“Please, just one meal! I promise, I’ll…I’ll scrub the floors for a week straight, dust the cabinets, shine your boots! Whatever you want! My word is goo–”

The owner of Serb’s Steakhouse, which was little more than a low-end diner, became the final person to slam his door in Zeta’s face before Zeta gave up all hope on eating that night.

Zeta slumped against a wall in dejection. He had forgotten that just because he loved humanity, it did not always love him in return. The masters were often quite cruel. But is it acceptable to reach a conclusion so early?

Giving into despair would do no good, so Zeta rose and started moving. Getting the blood flowing was what he needed, although food sat on his consciousness like an overweight sofa hound. By chance, there could still be a late night store selling something edible. Aspic was a large town, so surely there would be some businesses open at night.

An hour passed without any further interaction, mainly because Zeta’s pace had significantly slowed down from the lack of energy. Now he needed sleep as well as nourishment. His body had decided to kill him with every tool in the books.

If only he had a sigma that eliminated the body’s physical needs.

On the verge of passing out, he heard a whistle up ahead. Zeta looked up and saw a relatively large building with a wedge shoe for a sign. In the shoe’s center was a bright red light; he thought he heard about that somewhere. Neon? A Technocrat innovation? Nevertheless, Zeta recognized the place as the notorious center of lust.

The voice whistled again, and Zeta’s eyes lowered. A figure sat on the brothel’s porch, her eyes quietly capturing his attention. Slowly, with her fingers, she beckoned him closer.

Damn it. The ploy was obvious, and Zeta felt weak. He didn’t want to entertain the thought, but given that his stomach lay at the edge of collapse, he mustered the strength to get closer.

Whoever this woman was, she oddly seemed out of place. She wore the typical prostitute’s outfit, but many aspects of the dress were completely sealed off and far too bulky for her apparent height and weight as if she was concealing something beneath every fiber. Additionally, while she was by no means ugly, she was not doused with cosmetics as expected of the profession.

Notably, her black hair, cropped short, had bangs that shrouded one eye.

“Lost, stranger?” she asked.

“In a way,” Zeta replied, taking a seat across the table she sat at. “I’m not familiar with this town.”

“I can tell. Anyone can from seeing the way you walk, but enough about that.” She leaned in closer. “Why don’t you come inside and take that stress off your mind?”

Zeta wanted to laugh, but he feared that the contents of his stomach would come out at the first convulsion. “No, thanks. Unless you provide a meal as one of your ‘services.’”

“Hungry?”

“Very much. The problem is–and I’ll just get this out the way–I don’t have any money. So…unless you’re a homeless shelter, I should get going.”

He made a move to stand up, but the woman darted around to block his way.

“Dear, don’t worry about something as silly as payment,” she said. She placed a hand on his chest and tipped him back into his seat. “It doesn’t have to be money. Don’t you know how girls like shiny things?”

“Well, I don’t have anything of value, so–”

“Really? Nothing? Nothing at all?” She pulled her chair close to where her whole body was mere centimeters from his. “Checked your pockets? Are they really empty?”

Zeta wanted to say yes, but she was staring at his pants. The bulge of the sigmas in his pockets destroyed any denial. He pulled them out. “I guess I have these.”

They snagged her attention like a moth to a light, her eyes locked on tighter than a safe. “Ooh, they're pretty little prisms. They’ll certainly do.” She reached out to take them.

Zeta pulled back. “I’m not giving these up.”

She pouted at him. “Come on, dear, you said you’re starving. They’re just a couple of sigmas. What harm would it be to lose them?”

“They’re literally all I’ve got.”

“Read,” she said, her eyes staring him up and down with a faint grey glow. She stifled a laugh. “Wow, you're not kidding. A sigma score of 0? That means you’ve got nothing, not even the standard set. No matter, if your stomach’s empty then surely your willing to part if it means your survival.”

“The standard what now?” Zeta asked.

She raised an eyebrow but kept up her act. “You know, I hear one of the girls cooked a delightfully cruel bisque for the customers today. A special, I hear. With ingredients pulled fresh from the sea and garnish that nobles begged to eat twice.”

Zeta’s mouth watered as she went on, but he knew he must not sacrifice the sigmas. Whoever she was, she knew how to market.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“There might be some left. I’ll go fetch it, for the price.”

He pocketed the sigmas again. “Listen, it’s final, I’m not selling them for food, stubborn as it may seem. I’m not selling the sword either if that’s your next angle. Does your establishment need any work, and if not, does it have the kindness required to maybe…make a contribution?”

She sat back with a smile of disbelief. “Honey. You know the world doesn’t work that way.”

“Yes, I know.” Zeta stood to leave, tired of the game. “Good day.”

“But,” she continued, “even if the headmistress would never allow it, you were lucky to meet me as your…entertainer tonight. I happen to know a lot about Aspic.

“Oh?” Zeta said.

“There are quite a few people who can help folks like you out. Follow me.”

She stood up and started walking away from the brothel. Zeta trailed like a dog growing rabid as prime meat dangled in front of his face. “Steak…” he whispered, with an understanding that no charity in the world has the means to serve that.

They entered a series of alleys that grew dark and windy, a telltale sign to turn around. It was evident that they were heading for locale long dilapidated and with fewer residents that the rest of Aspic. Zeta didn’t care, a slim chance for food was better than none at all.

“Are we close?” he asked.

“Yes, if you’ll just give me a moment,” she said. She lifted her skirt like a discount princess and disappeared into a nearby building. Zeta that they were in some sort of abandoned plaza.

His stomach grumbled for longer than usual like a frog’s croak evolved into a roar, but then he realized that the leftover sounds were footsteps, not cries of hunger. At each end of the park, the only exits, two figures emerged. Zeta identified them as the thugs who hassled him earlier.

“Well, well, the stranger’s looking weaker than before.”

“Yeah, maybe he should have learned that ya need to respect the law around here. Strays don’t last long.”

“Really? You’re still going on about the law?” Zeta said. “What? Did you guys decide that you’d like to get a full beatdown instead?” Unfortunately, he broke into a coughing fit at the end.

“Hey, Igel, you were spot on. He ain’t just weak, he’s practically swinging death around,” said the one called Berto.

“For the record, swordsman, that little knock on the noggin earlier today barely hurt at all,” Igel said.

“But it was damn annoying!”

“Yes. You see, we didn’t want to make a fuss in front of the other ladies and gentlemen entering this fine city. Gotta keep up a decent daytime reputation. You never know who is apart of the crowd.”

“Yeah!”

“So, what is this, then? You still want my sigmas?” Zeta asked.

“Since your here, it means you’ve still got them,” Igel said. “We’re nice enough to not even hold a grudge for your prior disrespect, so if you hand them over, we’ll let you be about your business.”

“Really? What if I’ve already consumed them, or even sold them.”

“You’re right, and we’d be worried if you were smart,” Igel said. “But the Harpy tracked you down ever since your pathetic ass entered this city. If you had a pair of lobes in your brain, you would have sold or used them, but you didn’t.”

Zeta smiled. “Let me guess, the Harpy was the nice lady that led me here.”

“Spot on,” came a voice from behind him. Out of the building, the black-haired woman returned. The dress she had worn was discarded, revealing a street suit of boots, padding, and pouches galore. Any trace of the “courtesan” was gone. “Hera Verdure, the Harpy of Aspic, at your service.”

“Quite a title you’ve got there.”

“Thank you. Compliments mean everything to me.”

Zeta gestured to Igel and Berto. “Are these your goons or something?”

“Hey! That’s not nice. We’re partners!” Berto said.

Hera gestured. “As he said. They help run our operation. Why don’t you contribute to? You’ve spent all day looking for work, after all.”

“Ironically, it comes to my doorstep.”

“Precisely. Doesn’t the world always work out for everyone?”

Zeta actually chuckled at that. “So what exactly is your operation? I mean, these two have already informed me of my role in it. Might as well get the full picture.”

She pouted again, replicating her earlier act. “Are you sure you want to know? This business doesn’t exactly reward the curious.”

“You already know I have nothing to lose.”

“What about your life?”

“So blunt. What if I refuse?”

“Hmm? I don’t think I heard you correctly. That word isn’t in our vocabulary.”

Igel stepped closer. “Stop playing around fool and give us the sigmas. Hera’s good for her word and so are we. Give it to us without trouble, and you walk free.”

Zeta stared him in the face with the same icy rage he used before. “I don’t have to take anything from thieves like you. Either prove your merit in strength or keep your mouth shut.”

“Damn. And I thought we were aggressive.”

“What? So you wanna fight?” Berto asked. “Are you stupid? Its three on one!”

“Three fleas can’t defeat a single spider.”

“Fleas? Where do you get off acting all high and mighty, swordsman?” Igel asked. “For your information, our previous cowardice was an act. A-C-T.”

Finally, Hera spoke up. “We’re all sigma users, and as Berto said, you’re outnumbered. Make this easy, okay sweetheart?” The condescending undertone in every one of her words pricked Zeta’s nerves.

“Whether or not you have sigmas doesn’t matter to me. I snatched one of these off a fallen sigma user anyway. Besides, I’ll be the strongest user one day, so no challenge is too great.”

“Dear, you have a sigma score of 0.”

“Wait, what?” Igel asked. Then he looked at Zeta and said: “Read.” After a moment, he burst out laughing, which led to Berto following his lead.

“She isn’t lying!” Igel said. “You literally have nothing, and for a second there, I took you seriously.”

“So? You guys keep saying that. What the hell is a sigma score anyway?” Zeta asked.

That caused another round of hysteria. Even Hera was stifling laughs of her own.

“Okay, this idiot has had enough chances to surrender. Can we get this over with?” Igel asked.

“Yea!”

Hera spoke, “Fine. Just be careful of the sword. Out of everything, I at least think he knows how to use that.”

Hair Aesthetic - Physical: Biologically alters the user's hair to the sigma's designated color. (10). *Note that individual sigmas in this collection are marked Hair Aesthetic: Teal or Hair Aesthetic: Beige, etc.

* A user can only have one Hair Aesthetic modification.

* Modifies DNA.

* If seeking a change, employing a new Hair Aesthetic will replace the old one. The older Hair Aesthetic is immediately ejected.

Skin Aesthetic - Physical: Biologically alters the user's skin to match the designated color. (10).

*Note that individual sigmas in this collection are marked Skin Aesthetic: Teal or Skin Aesthetic: Beige, etc.

* A user can only have one Skin Aesthetic modification.

* Modifies DNA.

* If seeking a change, employing a new Skin Aesthetic will replace the old one. The older Skin Aesthetic is immediately ejected.