Corvayne was laying in Wick's bed, happy to be there and have her warm back pressed into his side. She was in a far better mood then when he had stumbled through the door, happily giving him a run down on 'Goat Suckers' and how they were not just dogs. He was starting to see the patterns that monsters away from towers had. “So they are like the other monsters, where they just sort of appear and disappear?”
Wick wiggled against him, apparently pleased that he was asking her questions. “I think so. Some PEOPLE want to say that it's just an animal with mange, which does make canids look monstrous, but there's reports of lizard-like versions. I mean, we are on the topic because of black helicopters and how they are associated with the same sort of odd livestock deaths that Chupacabra are.”
Corvayne looked over her shoulder at the stack of books on Wick's desk. Her main bedroom-study-office was buried in countless works focused on monsters and magic and aliens. He had spent the last day reading up on black helicopters while recovering. “And with cattle and helicopters, there was a rash of cases on Cascadia, fifty years ago? As well as 'Goat Sucker' sightings.” He wondered if the origin of those helicopter sightings was a power or item. It would explain how they often wasn't physical evidence of them in terms of radar or flight logs.
Wick spun under the cover to face him and started enthusiastically slapping his shoulder. “I think we should be especially alert for anything that looks like a Chupacabra you know? Argyle has something that lets him make or summon unmarked helicopters. What if he's really old and he has a team that all work together to steal cows?”
“I thought the monster targeted goats.” Corvayne moved his arm out of the covers and stretched it, feeling there were still tight points where he had gotten hurt. He formed a fist and cracked a few fingers in the process.
“Doesn't that hurt?” Wick ran a hand through her hair. Some of the roots were starting to show blonde, so she'd need to dye it again soon.
Corvayne smiled at her, then looked at his fingers flexing and unflexing. “I've been in a steady state of pains and aches since getting half melted by that dragon. Which is why Mister I thinks I should be in bed rather then doing anything useful.”
“I disagree with the idea you can't do anything useful in bed...” Wick purred.
There was a knock at the door and he heard Mister I's voice through the wood. “Sorry to disturb you two, but Mr. Grunt has returned! Can you spare a few moments apart to talk about our next step?”
Wick propped herself up on her elbows. “Be down in five!” Wick threw off the covers to the bed and carefully stepped around a pile of sweaters, bent over and pulled on a pair of sweat pants, a shirt, then tossed her blue robe on.
She looked back at Corvayne, who felt his muscles protest as he pushed himself out of bed and put clothes on as Wick tied her robe and adjusted her glasses, looking at a mirror.
“Should I even bother to keep dying my hair?” She pulled it up, then down.
“I'm sure it'd look good no matter what you did with it. I like the green color though.”
She beamed and played with her hair a little as they left the room and made their way down the dim hallway of the apartment tower. Worn carpet covered the middle of a poured concrete floor between dark boxy metal walls that hinted at the apartments past as part of a colony ship, as did a bulkhead entrance granting access to the stairwell. Entering the stairs down he ducked under plastic tarps blocking rain from an unfinished section two floors above.
The meeting was on the stage in the room the Oldtown Cascadia Neighborhood Association meetings were held, which was a gymnasium when cleared of chairs. A curtain hung across the stage, separating them from a group of kids practicing to play some sort of ball game with a 'you cannot carry or kick the ball' gimmick. They were operating under the watch of a trio of women in sweat suits, their whistles infused order to sounds of shouting and cheering and balls bouncing off walls.
Mister I had set up a table next to a chalkboard with 'MEN IN BLACK' scrawled atop a mostly cleared board, and pulled out enough metal folding chairs to sit and talk.
Corvayne didn't mind the noise, but worried about curious kids or adults peeking through the curtain. “Why not the garage?”
Mister I shook his head. “Not enough room. Grunt stole a truck from our would-be nuclear bandits.”
Wick, who had been looking at her notes, shot her head up. “Did he steal a nuke?!”
Nyxion held up two fingers. “Congratulations everyone, we are now a nuclear power.”
Lady Blood Claw was wearing the cloak they had looted from the fake Watcher village, as well as work gloves and a long sleeved shirt. Her silver hair was damp with sweat and she was fanning herself with a sheet of paper that had a black and white image of how butchers take cows apart. “The wrong tool for the scale we want to work with.”
Corvayne thought about it. “I doubt we can use them against the Monk... but I kinda want to set another couple of nukes off to see if I can learn a weapon skill from them.”
Wick turned to him. “I say no to that. We want the option to blow something up if we fuck up and summon Cthulu.”
Nyxion nodded. “Or a fleet of our enemies.”
Corvayne didn't argue the point, as he could still feel bones shifting around inside of him from his encounter with one enemy. Not that it was all Argyle's fault as Wick had chipped in too. He had been a more willing participant with the latter's contributions to his injuries. His train of thought broke when Grunt strolled in, wiping shaving cream from under his face where a normal person might have a distinct neck. Wick stood up and ran over and punched his leg. Grunt had to think a moment then mime being wounded, dragging his leg as he staggered in a circle, hamming it up by reaching his arm up as if clutching for light.
“You big idiot! Both you and Corvayne always run off!” She wrapped her arms around him, and Grunt patted her head. Corvanye came over and offered a fistbump, which Grunt looked at offended before he dragged Corvayne into the hug as well.
Wick got away from Grunt. “Okay, I am glad to see you but you both are going to kill me with running off with no way to talk to you.”
Corvayne held his hands up. “I ran off because the Monk found us. Somehow.”
Grunt made a phone gesture with his hands. He mimed throwing it away and dusting his hands off.
Wick nodded. “I called a burner I had on Seru's phone, then put hers in a Faraday cage, glued my phone on the blue train, then wrote it's number in the men's room of the station.”
Lady Blood Claw looked confused. “What was that going to accomplish?”
Wick sat down and folded her legs. “Bad case, they find it immediately and ignore it. Good case? Tie them up doing contact traces. Best case? Send him to play fetch with a train for a few days. It's stalling... with the bounty board we can't hide from him, and he moves much, much, much faster then any of us besides Corvayne in boots of running. We have to take him out, or the tower is off limits. If we fight, we need to know more about him.” She sighed, then looked over at Grunt. “So I think our next step is to speak with Dawn, while preparing our defenses.”
Seru pointed at Corvayne. “He totally fucked up our best fighter, who was just running!”
Corvayne bristled a little bit. “I'll have you know I engaged and defeated one clone before the one I think is the real Argyle forced me to run. Also... I got his staff.”
Nyxion and Grunt both clapped.
“Thanks, let's go see if Dawn can add more then just who he works for.”
Old Town's Central Station was something like a giant mound of classical architecture, statues of gods mixed with pillars around windows that let the tracks and the highway enter and leave the building, tapering in tan brick towering a hundred feet over the highest railway track with a clock stuck at midnight. Corvayne's perspective was from the front steps, a sort of hill of black stone and worn brass handrails leading up to the titanic building's bulk. Of all the things in Cascadia, the biggest thing that made him wary was how suspiciously clean of graffiti the ground floor was. It was sort of like parts of the desert that dune-reavers avoided. How scary was Dawn that everyone avoided tagging her building?
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Corvayne turned to Grunt and Wick, who were his companions for negotiating with Dawn. Or he was theirs, since they both knew the woman better. “Is this her... office then?”
Wick skipped up the steps. “Lives here, works here.”
The doors leading inside had new brass handles, and he was surprised that despite the outside showing signs of wear and tear, the inside was clean if not new. Pushing into the main atrium, he heard the roars of occasional cars on the highway reverberating through the building, with a slight rumble picking up strength as a train rocketed through the building on a track far above his head.
The Atrium floor was a couple of steps down, cluttered with building materials, pallets of boxes, and scaffolding surrounding a story building being built against the far wall along other store fronts homes and shuttered counters for tickets. Wick directed him sideways after he got a look into the room, herding him up three flights of stairs that lead to a hallway leading to raised railway platforms. Someone had torn down the two turn-styles in the middle of the hall, granting them a path across the atrium from far above. The tile birdge had brass railing to prevent getting near the tracks, some of it installed to block off stations that trains no longer stopped at. He spotted to the far right another road, lower then the freeway, that ran near a platform and still had trains stopping at it, with a taxi picking someone off.
Past the platform and arched bridge that supported it, they climbed another staircase, this one twisting around to get above the huge vaulted ceiling to a hallway lined with wood panels and frosted glass doors as well as the first instance of some sort of security that Corvayne saw, a woman in a yellow raincoat with a longbow who was perched on a bench, nearly blending into the bright colors of a large painting behind where she was crouched. She nodded a little at them when Corvayne met her eyes. Another pair of men in yellow rain coats with assault rifles flanked the door that Wick strode through, both of them nodding at her and Grunt.
The interior of the office they walked into had been partially reworked with driftwood. The entrance way looked like a clerks office that lead to a section decorated with driftwood. Cut branches and trunks covered the walls and gave them a tree-like texture. More wood scraps had been sanded, cut, stained, and glued back together to form an organic series of wood walls subdividing the space, making Corvayne feel like he had stepped into a giant tree. Rugs and wood furnishings were everywhere, as were maps and swords and guns on tables. The exception to the wood was a tan tiled kitchen area. The whole room smelled of wood with a little bit of smoke and a hint of spices and cooked rice. A map of Cascadia and the surrounding mountains hung opposite a lit fireplace, the rows of ink streets marked with pins and post it notes with cash amounts scrawled on them. As he was looking about the space, Dawn-After-Night herself came in from a set of double doors, wearing a black bathrobe over what looked like a nightgown and holding an unlit cigarette.
Dawn looked between them. “Grunt, Wick... who's this clown?”
Sitting down in her den, which like all the other rooms had been covered in bleached wood outside of a window looking out over the next island and the rainy waters of the sound, Corvayne found himself a curious mix of comfortable in the surroundings and anxious of the company. Dawn was very defensive of Wick. She was dating Grunt. If she was unhappy with either of them getting into trouble, the natural scapegoat here was him.
Dawn swirled a cup of wine. “I didn't expect to see either of you during daylight today... what has you up past your normal bedtimes?”
Wick cleared her throat. “I need info, the kind I can't get on my own. The empire's finally closing in, and to make an exit I need to punch a hole through an enforcer by the name of Argyle.”
Dawn gestured at Grunt. “If it's just one person, I cannot fathom why Grunt couldn't handle it alone.”
“We are dealing with someone on a higher scale... he might be the right hand man of Baron L'Tideru. His abilities are beyond a normal person to handle.”
Dawn made a hand gesture to Grunt, the speed of her fingers moving a blur. Grunt mimed ripping a band-aid off. Dawn frowned. She tapped her fingers together.
“That strong, huh? Okay. He works for the Baron eh? L'Tideru is annoying to get info on. The sources are expensive and probably tainted as the man has easily the most secure location in the entire collective.”
Dawn rubbed her wrist and a holographic screen came up, which the woman started poking and stirring with her finger. It was the first Corvayne had seen since leaving his village.
Wick leaned forward. “Dawn I know it's going to be costly, but I'm pretty sure this guy has all our escapes bottled up.”
Grunt also made some gestures, but Dawn held up a hand. “You didn't really answer my question, who's the third wheel?”
“That's Corvayne. He's my heavy.”
Dawn stopped, finger mid swirl, and narrowed her eyes. “I wasn't aware an IT technician or a paranormal researcher needed muscle. Especially since you know Grunt.”
“Cascadia is a lot more dangerous this week then it was last week, Dawn. In ways I don't think you'd believe.”
Dawn laughed. “Oh, I've been around the block.” She sipped her wine, then noticed the cigarette she had and slipped it into her mouth, hand moving extremely fast to produce a lighter from a pocket and light it, then slipped it back into her robe just as quickly.
“Corvayne, tell me, where do you come from?” She asked as she stood up, going over to look out at the city for a moment.
“A desert village of warriors on another world.” Corvayne saw Dawn turn back to face him, but noted her eyes were looking between Wick and him.
“I see you have a spear. Do you think you'll need it here?” She walked to the middle of the room.
“We really don't know when this guy is going to catch up to us. Hopefully I don't need to use it for a long time.” He felt a little lame as he was saying it.
“Of course! Of course. Say, are you sleeping with her?” She smiled and loomed over him. It was not a friendly smile.
Wick stood up. “Dawn!” She barked, glaring across the room at the older woman, who leaned away from Corvayne.
“I can tell.” Dawn frowned and turned to look at Wick.
Wick covered her face. “This is why I hate coming to you for help. You trash my lifestyle, and you don't understand me at all!”
“I worry when you pick armed strangers up and have flings with them. How long have you known this guy? Why haven't I seen them anywhere before?” Dawn gestured at Wick, nearly spilling wine but somehow always moving her glass to catch it again. She downed the rest of it then set the cup down so she could put a hand on her hip while gesturing with her cigarette hand. “I've spent how many years trying to stop you from blowing yourself up, trying to get you to sleep, trying to help you keep a job, and dealing with the fact that you don't feel safe. I told you, you can just stay here. This is the safest place in the entire city. Entire planet.”
Wick stood up. “There you go again! It's all about control with you. It's why I moved out! And furthermore, the entire reason I DON'T do that is because you are so stubborn you'd die before admitting there are problems you can't fix DAWN.”
Dawn punched a hole in the wooden wall, splintering around where her fist went. “It's better then making more problems! You get it in your head that you're right and you don't listen to others. Again and again. I've put a lot of time and effort into trying to get you back to being normal and healthy and yet you refuse to tell me what's wrong with you. I could figure it out, what, do you think I couldn't turn the screws on the three doctors you went to before Icariii? I don't do that because I CARE about you. Fuck, you remind me of myself, pushing everyone away. Let me tell you, I'm HERE because I made one too many mistakes. Not little ones, BIG ones.”
Wick rolled her eyes. “Maybe I get it from you? It's all hints of some bigger picture... I know you're a crook. I don't care about that. What matters to ME is that I can't bring in someone who CARES about me without you pulling out the fucking carrot peeler! Oh yes. Why don't you go through the whole song and dance with Corvayne? Who's saved my life before and will do it again?”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “You come over asking for help and start a fight... I've tried to tell you that until you're better, like, really get some help and fix things, your relationships are all going to be fucked up.”
Wick had balled her fists, standing up. “I'm NEVER going to be normal. I could go to therapy for a thousand years and it won't fix me. I'm always going to have nightmares, and be scared, and it's ALWAYS going to stop me if I let it from doing the things I NEED to do.”
Dawn spread her arms out. “Then tell us. Tell me, what happened. I can't understand unless you let me in.”
Wick walked to the door. “All three of those other doctors thought I was fucking crazy. Is that what you want from me? A pretty daughter who sits in a chair all day and looks at the rain, because she's so drugged up she can't remember anything? Mister I is the only one who's actually been treating me. I was a fucking idiot to ask for help.”
Dawn took two steps after her. “Where do you think you're going?”
“The BATHROOM.” Wick snarled back, opening then slamming the door behind her.
Dawn picked her cup up and hurled it into a wall, then swept a hand through her hair. She turned to Grunt. “What about this kid she's riding Grunt? Who is he?”
Corvayne felt his eye twitch. He was sitting right here, yet totally ignored.
Grunt looked over at Corvayne for a moment, sheepish, then turned back to Dawn. He made a gesture like someone holding something before their chest, then twisted his elbow and wrist to hold the object out, then pulled it back and did the same gesture again, then held the thing up.
“No... you're kidding. Him?” Dawn looked at Corvayne, narrowing her eyes.
Grunt smiled at her and nodded.
“Then...” Dawn's eyes widened and she took a few steps back from Corvayne. “He isn't...”
Grunt rolled his eyes and nodded, then blew through a series of hand gestures and emotes at warp speed. Probably faster then most people could talk. Corvayne caught a few he got... something about 'Information' and 'Understanding'.
He decided to speak up. “Grunt buddy, I can't understand when you go that fast.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Grunt is a walking information bomb. If you understood everything he signed just now, it might trigger it. So first of all, he needs to NOT be sloppy. I'm immune to him personally because I am allowed to be myself at home.”
Grunt gave him a normal speed gesture of a guilty shrug then mimed writing a note, then reading it, then tapped his heart: Sorry I can't let you in. You know you're my bro.”
Corvayne nodded and bumped his own chest. “I can go talk to Wick if you guys need a moment alone...”
Dawn sighed. “Grunt stuck his neck out and argued that you are slightly different then her past reprobate boyfriends, so for the moment I'm not going to do any emergency surgery on you. Just remember, while his word counts for a lot, if I find out you hurt Wick in any way, you will discover that the peeler is not, and has NEVER been an idle threat. Both of you.”
Grunt paled and gripped his chair, then nodded vigorously. Corvayne silently thanked whatever gods were out there that Wick didn't seem as prone to threatening his manhood with kitchen equipment.
“All right. Well, I'm going to look this up, but I have a favor to ask since I gotta dump money into it, I don't have off-world resources that just hand me this on a platter, you got me boys?”
Corvayne nodded, looking over at Grunt who was folding his arms and leaning back, but made a 'go on' gesture with a hand.
“Two girls vanished at Cascadia National Forest...”
Corvanye couldn't help but groan. Grunt quickly made a set of hand gestures. Binoculars, someone calling something in on a radio, a fist and hand held straight up like an exclamation point.
“Do you two have 300,000 credits laying around, in cash?”
Corvayne adjusted his storage ring. “Not in cash, no.”
Wick came back into the room. “What's she trying to pull you two into.”
Grunt made a door motion, then held up two fingers, then mimed his fingers walking in a circle while wobbling his head: She wants us to find two people who probably went into the Tower.
“In Cascadia National Forest.” Corvayne added.
Wick shook her head. “We can find them but it would result in the guy after us finding us and killing us. So no.”
Dawn-after-Night threw her hands up. “Come the fuck on! That's the SAFEST job I had. No killing anyone, just finding a person. Pays for nearly the whole info packet.”
“What else do you got?”
“I'd have to get a bunch of jobs done, but the big one is disappearances in Ko-Ban... I didn't lead with it because it's going to put you guys into contact with the Bone Hounds.”
Corvayne sat up. “More monsters?”
Dawn paused. Shit, maybe he should just keep his mouth shut and let Wick do the talking. That's what the withering look he got from both them was telling him.
Wick stepped in. “So you're worried we don't have the firepower to beat a few gang members?”
“There are hundreds of members. I haven't dealt with them yet because they know better then to step onto my bridge.” Dawn jerked her thumb at the window and Corvayne stepped over to see a four lane road running over the water to connect Old Town with Ko Ban, about a mile away.
Wick shrugged. “How many people are missing?”
“At least a dozen.”
Corvayne nodded. “Okay, deal. We'll do a rescue operation.”
“Keep in mind it's covering about a third of the cost...”
Wick pulled out a wad of cash. “I have money too.”
Dawn accepted it. “You're still fifty thousand short... but I think the other easier jobs will make us even.”
Wick nodded. “Me and Nyxion can cover some of the other stuff I bet...”
Corvayne went over to look out the window at Ko-Ban as Wick and Dawn started talking about bank transactions and waiters. He could see neon lights blaring even during the day, and the view from Dawn's office let him catch a glimpse of a crowded market street. A simple rescue operation, and it paid six figures?
“All right, Grunt, let's go make some money.”