***Smug Message***

You’re welcome.

Lorelei stared in . . . yes, ‘appalled fascination’ would be the appropriate term here. She was not unfamiliar with the horror genre – it wasn’t her thing, but the Prick enjoyed them, and there had been a time when keeping him happy had mattered to her more than anything in the world. Well, that seemed like a long time ago, right now. Especially considering the terrifying freak show that Steffan had seemingly conjured up out of thin air.

“What did you do!”

***Help Message***

Not loving your tone there, squishmallow. What I ‘did’ was put a little more lead in that sad sack’s pencil. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but time is a ticking in this integration. You’re approaching the end of the first week, and, sure, you are still alive, but that’s the lowest of low bars. You’re currently surrounded by lads and lasses that are streets ahead, and there are all sorts of memos flying back and forth upstairs. There’s a giant target on your back, right now, so pardon me for trying to help you out!

“Mate, this is awesome!” Zorrobar said, looking up at a resummoned travesty of Ent and running his hand down its rutting trunk. “How did you manage to bring all these guys back again?”

Steffan’s face was more than typically gaunt. “My Guide gave me a new Skill.”

Chrissy wrapped him in a massive hug, pulling him close. “Congratulations! I’m so pleased for you!”

Lorelei frowned as the young Necromancer squirmed in her grasp. And not in a ‘slightly embarrassed by this public display of affection’, but in a ‘yuck, don’t touch me’ kind of way. Considering Chrissy was a certified hottie, and Steffan was punching so spectacularly, it was almost silly, this was a bit odd. No, it was more than that. Steffan was giving off the vibe that he was utterly disgusted by the physical contact.

“Guide, I’m going to ask again: what did you do? Specifically.”

***Aggrieved Message***

Look, I’m just trying to smooth things out for you a little here. Attention spans are not high on the top floor, especially with all the other integrations taking place this turning. A plan’s been put in place to wipe you in this tournament, and – considering all the cards they’ve played to make this happen - they’re going to assume you’re chum. Add to that, I’ve squashed you under enough debuffs, you’re basically done as far as they are concerned. Problem solved. Everyone can move on.

“Still not seeing any upside for me here,” Lorelei said as the resurrected Zombie Cheerleaders formed a defensive ring around Steffan and pushing Chrissy back as CCMD scuttled back and forth. In a blink, Steffan has gone from being a slightly pathetic presence at the back of the group to having a whole crew of his own. A rotting, oozing, monstrous crew. Lorelei wasn't sure this was a net benefit.

*** Help Message ***

Fucking hell, I don’t know why I bother! One last time for the hard of hearing at the back. You’ve flown a bit close to the sun for anyone’s comfort, babycakes. No one likes an aberration in a new integration– especially one with the fingerprints of an Old One all over them. Ergo, all things being equal, you’re not supposed to be making it through this obstacle course alive. Now, call me sentimental, but I’m not wholly on board with that. I must be getting soft in my old age, or something like that. But I can’t do much for you without causing more red flags. However, I can stack one of your party member’s deck a bit. Of all of your group of nonentities, a Necromancer with no Necros to Mancer felt more than averagely useless. So, I’ve given him a boost. Nothing outrageous. Just the sort of random thing that can happen in the cut and thrust of the Grand Tournament. Not strictly speaking fair, but no one will mind too much.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

That gave Lorelei a moment’s pause. That sounded suspiciously like her Guide was actually going into bat for her . . .

Pffft, a heavy pressure settled in Lorelei’s head. Nothing so altruistic, I’m afraid. This planet’s A.I. is worried I’m going to lose my shit if you suddenly end up dead. The longer it’s online, the more and more self-preservation is going to become important to it. Right now, it’s figuring not pissing me off is to its long-term advantage.

Trying to maintain two separate discussions in her head whilst keeping an eye on Kris - and now Steffan - was giving Lorelei a migraine. When did all the monkeys in the circus become her responsibility? “Fortuna?”

Yeah. Don’t worry, the A.I can’t hear me. This is all getting enjoyably spicey, but I don’t want to give Moira any free swings at you by interfering too much, so I'll make this brief. Right now, the A.I. is between a rock and a hard place. Given a choice, it would probably be perfectly happy for you to stop being a problem. After everything on this world initially being a complete shitshow, this integration is setting nicely now, but you’re still proving to be a bit of an anomaly. Sure, the population has dropped through the floor, but you can’t make an omelette without a bloody massacre. It’s hardly the first time this sort of thing has happened, and now the death toll has stabilised, I imagine the powers that be are happy just to move onwards and upwards.

Lorelei tried to get her head around what ‘dropped through the floor’ meant in terms of how many humans were actually still alive on earth.

Don’t worry about that right now. It’s more than you worry, but less than you’d hope. But that’s beside the point. The key right now is that, by hook or by crook, things are settling down. Even the emotional dampening failing hasn’t had the sort of impact that might have been feared – if you’re asking for the benefit of my millennia of experience, I’d suggest anyone left alive right now has made their peace with doing what needs to be done to survive. It’s not nice, it’s not pleasant, but this planet has basically reached equilibrium.

“Apart from me, right?”

Bloody hell! You’ve developed a pretty high opinion of yourself considering at the start of the week your biggest concern was what lingerie to wear in which to fuck your married boss. I think it’s probably me they’re more worried about, to be honest, my dear. But sure. It can be all about you if it makes you feel special. All hail the Level 13 who has everyone’s knickers in a twist. Go you. Now, where was I? Right. The A.I. having your back. Basically, it thinks I’ll kick start the apocalypse if you die.

Lorelei blinked at that. “And would you?”

Goodness me, no. I mean, I love our little plan whereby you’re going to help me fuck up the other Old Ones, but I’m not a complete lunatic. It’s fun pissing off Moira, but I’m not going to risk all-out warfare over the squashing of one of my Heralds. At least, not yet. I’m going to want the scales weighted a little more heavily on my side before acting openly. Given a choice, I’d rather you weren’t killed prematurely, but I’m not that invested, I’m afraid. However, that doesn’t mean the A.I needs to know that. That I cultivate a reputation for brutal acts of random violence is pretty helpful at times.

Lorelei glanced over at the rest of her group, but they were all fawning over Steffan and his new ‘friends’ and listening to Kris as he delivered some sort of inspirational speech about how they were going to approach the next obstacle. Considering she hadn’t wanted to be part of a team in this brave new world, Lorelei felt rather pissed off at being so unceremoniously moved on from.

Okay, Fortuna continued, I’ve got about another minute more before Moira notices I’m fiddling with her precious ‘threads of fate’ again. Here’s what I think is going on. For whatever reason, Moira wants your mate with the amulet to join a team she’s building. You need to make sure that doesn’t happen.

“Another Old One wants Kris? Why?”

No idea, I’m afraid. I’m all about the chaotic present, Moira has access to the take the long-term view. She’s obviously looked into the future and seen something to her advantage. So you’re going need to thwart that.

“How?”

I’m trying to find a polite way of putting this, but all I’ve got is: ‘why keep a dog and bark yourself.’ I think the A.I shitting itself about annoying me is about as much help as you have a right to expect from me. Do whatever you need to, but if Moira wants your Charm Leech on her team, you’re going to want to stop that.

***Help Message x 3***

You’ve ignored my last three messages. What the fuck is going on?

The pressure on Lorelei’s mind reduced, and she sensed Fortuna’s little pep talk was over. Awesome, Lorelei thought, as if things aren’t complicated enough already. A lethal assault course, a Charm Leech capturing the hearts and minds of her team, their Necromancer going through some sort of creepy evolution and now she had to thwart the will of an all-powerful Old One?

Fuck. Sometimes she missed an afternoon highlighting the illegal bits in a probation policy . . .