Chapter Eight: Mom would be proud; I finally got a job.

The world was static, with flashing lights and bleeding colors. The Whisper was shouting in my head, but she was distant and coming in snippets, broken up like an out-of-tune AM radio.

N W# U T:

&S#C E&F M T*E S AV CA#P

%%%%%%%%%%@@@@@

*********FI&&&&24&&&&##

The words appeared in white Helvetica on a black background, or was it Arial? But they weren’t words, really; letters dropped out. My brain wasn’t right, and the garbled crap in my vision reflected it. A picture of a large, ugly boot was in my face now, the last thing I saw.

But it wasn’t. I focused, thinking about my time on the road. Memories came back. It was all just still images, mostly of the Carpenter beating me savagely and yelling. I could remember my face getting punched over and over, even though I couldn’t move. I’m sure there was a kick or five to the ribs with the beatdown.

So yeah, that happened. I was lucky I was pretty much a vegetable at the time, thank God. But now, it was coming back. VP recovers over time; my brain must have been rewiring itself enough for me to start thinking again. I now had synapses ‘o plenty to enjoy the pain and PTSD. Fuck this shit.

I wasn’t sure what the worst part was: the pounding in my skull, the fiery ache in my side with every shallow breath, or the screaming protest of my wrists and hands. My body had taken a beating, and it made sure I knew it.

I stirred, wincing as I cracked open my eyes.

“Thank the Goddess,” Heather whispered, her voice shaky and slurred. “Regan, don’t move.”

Regan Obliged.

Perfect. Moving wasn’t something I could manage anyway. The pain in my wrists was inching its way down my arms, though, and was promising to become a bigger problem soon. I closed my eyes again, searching for the hidden joy of a throbbing Pink Floyd Laser Light Show projected on the inside of my eyelids.

“Why?” I croaked. Talking hurt, but curiosity won out over self-preservation.

“The guard,” she murmured. “He’s… waiting for you to wake up.” She hesitated, then corrected herself, her voice hitching. “They…They’re waiting.”

That wasn’t good. Pain took a step aside for a little bit for terror to twist its virtual dagger in my gut.

I pried my eyelids open again, this time slower, letting the scene come into focus. Cage or crate? That was the burning question my pain-addled brain decided to fixate on. The hard wooden walls reeked of sweat and dust, closing us in on all sides except for a metal door with bars that said cage louder than crate. The space was maybe three and a half feet tall and six feet wide—just enough for two bodies to fit without touching. Cozy: if your idea of cozy includes suffocation.

Above me, my hands were chained, locked in manacles the width of my wrist bones, suspended from an “O” ring bolted to the ceiling. Fantastic. My arms were going numb, but on the bright side, that was one less area of active pain.

Outside, it was dark. My lights had gone out at high noon, but night had fully set in now. I could see well enough with elf vision through the bars. Across a small empty field, a canvas tent glowed faintly from the firelight sputtering in a small pit. A lone figure sat by the flames, his back to us—classic bad-guy camping pose.

I tried accessing my storage inventory, desperate for even a scrap of help, but I just got a face full of old-school TV static.

Honestly? The cage or crate debate was starting to feel important. Call it distraction therapy.

“Why can’t I examine my inventory?”

“The shackles,” She whispered. “They inhibit magic.” Then she moaned. “You need to stay quiet. They want to rape you when you wake up.”

I finally looked over at her, and my heart fucking sank. Heather had been beaten badly. Granted, it was not as bad as me, but it was bad enough to make my stomach churn. Her right eye was swollen shut, the bone around it misshapen from a kick hard enough to crack her eye socket. I knew how that felt, I wish I didn’t, though.

A jagged gash split her scalp, and the right side of her face and hair were caked with blood. Her robe was torn open to the waist, her undergarments disheveled but mercifully intact. She hung limply, all the poise and grace of a priestess stripped away. She couldn’t even hold her head up. Blood and tears streaked her cheeks, cutting paths through the grime like cruel reminders of her suffering.

The sight of her broke something in me. My own pain vanished in the shadow of hers. She was so beautiful, and seeing her like this was…I wanted to cry for her—no, I wanted to scream for her.

“Oh fuck,” The state of her robes just hit me. “Did they...?”

“No,” Heather said. “I’m a priestess of Amania; other than kicking me around, they won’t touch me.”

“You don’t sound so happy about that.” I groaned, fighting off the urge to throw up.

“They’re slavers,” Heather said. “We’re just the merchandise. You’re more valuable in a brothel, but no one cares what happens to you before you arrive.” She coughed dryly. “They told me someone from the Church of Granvul up north would pay a good price for a Priestess of Amania, however, especially one that’s a virgin.”

“I don’t suppose they just want you to sweep up around the place?”

"I don’t know, maybe, for a day or two.” She grinned, not a pretty site with her swollen lip. “But mostly, I’ll be defiled on a sacrificial altar and then stabbed through the heart so their god can have his way with my soul for all eternity.”

“All kinds of bad in there. What about Gem and the others.?”

“Shhh,” Heather whispered. The guard was returning. I closed my eyes. I could hear footsteps crunching on pine needles outside the cage.

“Our little snack’s not awake yet?” said the man. He had a nasal voice like he had a pinched nose. Maybe it was broken and not set right. He also had a slight whistle when he breathed. “Give ‘er a kick.”

Heather weakly kicked me on the hip, and I made my best ragdoll impression.

“The boys are gettin’ anxious.” He leaned close to the cage door. “Maybe if she doesn’t come around soon, we might each take a turn with you.” Heather didn’t reply. He turned around with a Hmf! and walked away.

“He’s a keeper.”

“I’m so sorry,” Heather cried quietly. “I should have run, and then you wouldn’t have to come to help me.”

“Not now,” I said, leaning up. “We only have a couple of minutes.” I took stock of what I had. They had ripped the bandolier and magic ring off. Predictable. Leaving me in my armor, boots, and, most importantly, my belt. Things were looking up. “I need you to help me get my belt off.”

“Why?”

“Trust me,” I said, painfully moving onto my knees and pushing my hips towards her. “It’s a rogue thing, come on.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” I shout-whispered. “Teeth, toes, whatever, just hurry!”

Heather tried vainly to bend over, but that didn’t work. So, she started working the belt off with her feet. Even though she never wore shoes, her feet were always immaculate. Why that observation was kicking around in my head at the moment was a mystery to me.

“Shit,” I said, admiring her as she worked the leather between her toes, tugging the hole away from the prong. “Is it wrong that I find this a bit of a turn-on?”

“Not really. Perverts like you like this gross stuff.” She pinched her toes and pulled while I wiggled my hips to loosen it from the loops. “If none of this works, you need to take my virginity.”

“So, you can be a whore instead of being sacrificed?”

“I’d rather be a whore for a lifetime than a whore for eternity to the God of Domination.”

“Yikes,” I whispered. “Pass it up here.” I waved my right hand. I had been holding it up, taking my weight off it. I worked out the pins and needles while she worked on the belt. “Of course, it would be hard to do that if we’re all chained up.”

She pulled the end of the belt up to my right hand with her foot. I grasped it and shuffled it until I reached the middle. Thankfully, my hand was healed from having been bisected on the road by the Carpenter; otherwise, this would have been impossible.

“Thank you, by the way,” I whispered. “For healing me on the road.”

“I’m as good as my word. What are you doing?”

“Rogue shit.” I smiled. “Funny thing about storage devices...”

I reached into a small leather flap on my belt and pulled out one of my lock picks. I instinctually knew how to use them from my starter kit skills but had not actually had the opportunity to practice. I wriggled the pick around in the left shackle, looking for the lever.

“People just assume that you keep everything in storage for security...” I wriggled the first hub, then the second hub. I alternated between each one. “...Ideally...” I muttered as I felt myself stray off-topic. “...I’d have two of these, but the other one is in my boot.”

The lock clicked, and the manacle released. “Stash a hot item or two in a place nobody will think to search.”

“I will never talk ill of Rogues again.” She whispered.

“So, do you still want me to take your virginity?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take maybe.” I pulled my foot up. “It’s progress.”

I kicked off my boot and grabbed the other pick. I placed it in my right hand and started working the manacle. Then, I used the pick in my left hand on the hole and released it in half the time.

The Whisperer was anything but quiet in my head as she shouted:

NEW QUEST:

ESCAPE FROM CAPTIVITY

You’ve just had your ass handed to you. And now you are in a cage surrounded by twelve nasty men who want to do horrible things to you before selling you to more men who will want to do even more horrible things to you.

THIS QUEST CANNOT BE DECLINED.

To complete the quest, you must:

1. Escape from this cage.

2. Escape from this camp.

Rewards:

Freedom is its own reward.

A wall of notifications ran down my vision. I ignored them, pulling a health potion out of my storage. I uncapped it and held it up to Heather’s lips.

“Turnabout is fair play. And you’re way too pretty to have a nasty swollen eye.”

Heather sipped it down; she winced as the bone around her eye shifted and the swelling went down.

Gem: By the gods! Are you okay?

Regan: They have us in magic-suppressing restraints. I just got mine off. Where are you?

Gem: I got away after the initial attack and followed the gang to the camp. I’m in a tree, ready to strike.

Regan: Where are the others?

Gem: You are all parked in wagons beside a small fire pit. I can see the whole camp from here.

Regan: I’ll get back to you in a minute.

“Gem’s okay,” I told Heather. “She got away during the ambush. She says there’s another cage next to ours. The boys are probably in it. I can’t open this door, though. The lock’s on the other side.”

I unequipped my bloody and beaten-up armor and equipped the dark stealth armor I got with the starter kit.

“We need him to open it.”

“So, act like you woke up.” She suggested.

“He might bring his friends, and you saw how I am in a fair fight. I suck. We need him to just open it up enough to peek in.”

Regan: Let me know when the guard comes back.

Gem: Okay, sure. Nothing yet.

“I do have a question,” I whispered to her. I slipped back over to her side and started unlocking her manacles.

“What?”

“Do you need to be a virgin for The Church of Purity, or is that a personal choice?”

“As a priestess,” She whispered. “I have sworn to live a virtuous life.”

“Not the same thing as being a virgin.”

“No,” She was getting irritated. “But climbing into bed anytime you get the urge is not helpful.”

“So, you can be virtuous without being a virgin then?”

“Yes. Why the fuck are we talking about this?”

“Did you just say ‘Fuck’?” I opened her left manacle and then the right.

“Yes, I did. What’s the matter with you?”

“Hold your hands up and just keep these closed around your wrists so it looks like they’re still locked.”

“Okay, fine. Again, why this right now?”

“Because I’m scared shitless.” I was trying to hold back what was looking to be a collapse.

“I want to talk about something to take my mind off how close I am to being raped and murdered or worse.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Also,” I continued. “I get turned on pretty much all the time. Every second of every fucking day since I got here, I just want to jump someone.”

“Oh boy.”

“And you are so beautiful. And even now, I just want to slide over there and finish pulling that robe off you.”

"Okay." Heather raised her hands slightly, a defensive gesture. "We can talk about this later, I promise."

She scooted closer and gently pulled me into a hug, careful not to aggravate my injuries.

"May the Goddess bless you," she whispered in my ear. "May her grace flow through you, cleansing your body and soul."

A warm glow enveloped me. Panic flared as I worried the guard might notice, but the soothing magic of her healing power worked through me, mending what was broken in both mind and body. My VP bar climbed steadily, moving from one-third to full. For a brief moment, I felt safe and whole.

Gem: He just got up.

“Shit,” I pushed Heather back, moved into the opposite corner, and activated Stealth. “Don’t say anything.” I summoned Sick Stick. “Let him talk himself into opening the door.”

“Sure thing,” She said.

Regan: Be ready to drop his ass, but only when I tell you.

Gem: Understood.

“How’s the snack?”

Heather sat silently, her face turned away, hiding her newly healed eye from the guard. I was impressed with her performance.

The guard pressed his face up to the bars. He was human, clad in scale armor and a helmet that masked most of his face. “Fuck,” he said. “Where that little whore go?”

Heather was motionless, not responding, keeping her arms up and face turned away.

“Answer, you bitch, or I’ll break your other eye!”

He gripped the bars of the door and shook it. It looked like the cage was about chest-high on him. I wondered if an arrow would kill him with his armor.

The alternative was for Gem to kill him and sneak into the camp. She’s good, but it would be better for me to be the one sneaking around, and it would be a tragedy if she were captured.

To my relief, there was a rattling of keys as he pulled out his ring and fumbled for the right one. He inserted it with a grunt. And turned the key, unlocking the door.

“Gonna find out what the fuck is going on.” He pulled it open.

Regan: NOW!

Thwip! One of Gem’s arrows landed squarely in his back. Just as he was about to cry out, I leaped through the door and jammed Sick Stick deep into his shoulder. He toppled backward, the arrow snapping as he collided with the ground.

13 vp damage to CAMP GUARD.

CAMP GUARD SUFFERS STUN DEBUFF

TIME REMAINING: 3 SECONDS

CAMP GUARD SUFFERS TILT A HURL DEBUFF

TIME REMAINING: 5 SECONDS

I landed on top of him, straddling his chest. I pinned him to the ground by the arms with my knees. His head was rolling around from the debuffs.

“Saw something like this on Breaking Bad,” I whispered to him.

Vomit spewed into his mouth, but I shoved my hands under his helmet. I pinched his nose with one hand and clamped my other over his mouth. They were wedged between his face and the metal, trapping everything in. I pressed down with all my weight. I was thankful for being a Half-Elf and having tiny little hands.

“Sad, really, she was a mess, but Jane was definitely my type.”

He spasmed and jerked but didn’t struggle. The drowning seemed to disconnect his mind from his body, and he flopped helplessly underneath me.

After a few seconds, all movement stopped when he passed out. I kept my grip on him. Then, there was shuddering as the dying flesh tried to expel the fluid from the lungs. After a half dozen scrolling damage notifications, the final notice came. I could see his eyes staring upward through the narrow slits in the helmet, seeing nothing.

YOU HELPED DEFEAT CAMP GUARD.

+237xp

CORPSE:

CAMP GUARD.

LOOTABLE ITEMS:

MEDIUM QUALITY SCALE ARMOR AND HELMET

SMALL HAND WHIP

CAMP GUARD KEYS

STORAGE RING (LOCKED TO OWNER)

A NOTE FROM SVEN

7GP

13SP

27CP

DO YOU WANT TO LOOT?

“Fuck!” I whispered, crawling backward until I bumped into the wagon wheel. “Oh, Jesus’s mother fucking...fuck...shit.” Tears ran down my cheeks as I pulled my knees up and hugged them. What the fuck just happened? I killed him. I fucking killed him, and I acted like a goddamn TV psychopath when I did it.

Swinging an axe at an orc was one thing, but holding a lung full of vomit in a man’s mouth so he choked to death was some Dexter-level shit.

“Regan.” It was Heather. She was leaning out of the cage door.

“Regan.” She repeated more sternly when I didn’t reply. “We have to get moving.”

“I know,” I said quietly. But I didn’t move from the spot. I needed a minute. Just a little fucking time to process all this shit. I looked over at Mr. Camp Guard. The loot notification was still hanging in the air. I gritted my teeth.

“Everything’s peachy. I’m just feeling my feelings.”

Heather climbed down out of the cart and onto the ground at my side. “This is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

“I’m sure it will.”

DO YOU WANT TO LOOT?

“So, you need to shelve what you’re feeling right now until we are out of this.”

“Fuck.” I pointed at the guard. “I thought he was a keeper. But he just turned out to be another rapist asshole.”

“And we are right in the middle of a camp of them.” Heather stood up and looked around.

She was right. I mean, of course, she was. I was the new kid. She and the others lived with this kind of stuff. But damn.

“Get down.” I snarled, sliding over to the guard. “You don’t want anyone seeing you.” I selected Yes, and his armor and everything else moved into storage. “Help me throw him in the wagon.”

QUEST UPDATE:

ESCAPE FROM CAPTIVITY

You have escaped from the cage.

We lifted the guard, a one-hundred-and-sixty-pound sack of human shit, into the cart. I slipped Sick Stick under the fabric and cut off his underwear, leaving him completely nude, and then closed the door.

He was middle-aged and had a pasty, dirty body that looked like he had lived a hard life. And now he’s a pile of meat in a cage.

“And what is the point of that?” Heather asked.

“They treat us like animals, strip us, and lock us in cages. Like I said, turnabout is fair play.”

“What do we do now?”

I suddenly remembered the note in the camp guard’s pocket and pulled it out:

Jenner and Co,

Handoff: Third Caedasin of Funa at Twin Boulder Pass.

500gp/head

Bonuses for Clergy, Skilled Workers, and Exotics.

The boss will not accept dwarves; they are not profitable.

See you then, happy hunting.

Sven

“Hey, Heather,” I whispered.

“What?”

“What’s the third Caedasin of Funa?”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow is the third Caedasin of Funa.” She audibly sighed. “It’s the day of the month.” I really needed to know this stuff. I had a quest and everything.

“Oh...” ...Piece it together, Regan... “...fuck.”

“What.”

“The main group is coming here tomorrow.”

“Not the best news.”

Regan: Can you see the whole camp from up there?

Gem: Yes. There are four tents. The one by the fire pit doesn’t have anyone in it. The other three have one guard on watch and three sleeping in each. They have the carts, plus a carriage parked off to the side with four horses. I don’t think there’s anybody over there.

Regan: Do the guards have a line of sight on each other?

Gem: It looks like two can see each other. The third one is sitting on the far side of the furthest tent to the right, so he’s out of site.

Regan: Can you remove either of the two that can see each other?

Gem: Of course I can.

Regan: Are those tents facing this one?

Gem: No, they are facing the road.

Regan: Standby for now. I’m gonna get Jinx and Kev. Heather is stashed away safely.

I followed Heather’s advice and shoved it down, locking the panic away. I counted down from ten in my mind. That was all the time I could afford to give myself. I willed the revulsion to settle and forced the adrenaline to simmer down. Focus. Take stock. I’d killed one man. I could do it again.

My friends and I might not survive the night if I didn't.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The camp was still quiet. No alarm was raised. The others were still locked up. Eleven more people stood between us and safety. Eleven.

I replayed Gem’s briefing in my head, arranging the pieces like a grim chessboard: three sentries, nine sleeping men, three tents. It was straightforward, in theory. In practice, it was a mess waiting to happen.

I couldn’t stop the comparison: this felt like Hitman. That game had driven me up the wall with its puzzles. Carefully timed actions and precise movements, with no room for error. Except now, instead of pixelated guards, there were real men with, like, actual weapons. And instead of reloading a save after screwing up…well... Don’t screw up.

No pressure.

“Hey, boys,” I whispered into the cage next to ours. Jinx was there, covered in cuts and bruises, and so was Kev, equally battered. He took up more than half the cart with his enormous size.

“Holy shite, love,” Jinx whispered back. “We 'eard somethin' 'appenin' over there, thank the gods it’s just you. Get us outta these fucking things.”

“On it,” I unlocked the door with the guard’s key. “We need to take out this team before we can escape.”

“They outnumber us by three to one,” Kev whispered.

“If we just run,” Jinx said. “They’ll chase us down.”

“But we can’t just beat them based on numbers alone.”

“We kinda have to do it.” I was trying to keep my voice down. “The rest of the crew is coming tomorrow. We need to get as much space between us and them as we can tonight. We can’t do that if these fuckers are chasing us.”

I pulled off Jinx’s manacles and then Kev’s before handing him my prybar. “Pull those things out of there. I want them.”

“They’re illegal.” He protested.

“Uh, yeah, Kev. And I want them.”

He grunted, pulled out the two sets of manacles, and handed them to me along with the pry bar. He then awkwardly squeezed himself through the tiny cage door and thudded on the ground next to Jinx, whose arm hung limp and was covered in blood.

“Here,” Heather whispered, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. Healing magic rushed into their bodies and out through the bruises and cuts in the form of golden light. They both gasped as all the damage done to them vanished in less than a second.

“Send my thanks to your Goddess, love,” Jinx said, moving his arm in a circle and getting the stiffness out. “And thank you.”

“My pleasure.” She replied.

“Get under the cart and stay there until one of us gets you,” I told her. She started to protest. “You want to start doing the shit I just did?”

“I’m a healer.” She hissed. “Of course I don’t.”

“She’s Right,” Kev said. “Being in the last place they will look is your best option.”

“Gem is stationed up in a tree and has eyes on the whole camp.” I led them away from the carts and towards the empty tent. “Most of the gang is bedded down.” Except for the ones that want to rape me. I almost said out loud.

“So, we attack them in their sleep then,” Jinx suggested.

“That’s the easy part of the plan. The big hiccup is that they’re in three separate tents. With a guard on each.”

“Running still off the table?” Kev asked.

I rearranged all the pieces in my head again. Two guards together. We couldn’t just kill one of them; the other could alert the rest. Kill them simultaneously, sure, but the third guy might hear something. All he has to do is look around the corner, and we’re boned.

“Gem and I will take out the guards.” I hesitated momentarily; I needed a beat before making the most insane statement of my entire life. “And then I’ll take out the sleeping ones.”

“That’s insane,” Kev said.

“No,” Jinx said. “No bleedin' way are you goin' into them tents on yer own!”

“Well, I don’t think Mr. Giant Hammer and Mr. Lightning can exactly sneak in there and get the job done. These bastards are hardcore. They took us out in less than what? Two minutes. Even if we can beat them, I don’t want any of us to get killed in the process.”

“You’re not going in there and slitting nine throats.” Kev protested.

“I was thinking more of a blade to the heart, nice and quick.”

I stood up on my tip toes at Kev. “This is dumb. We need to move. They’re waiting for…me.”

“What do you mean?”

I grabbed Kev by the arm, my grip tighter than I realized. “Kev, they’re waiting for me to wake up,” I said, forcing him to meet my eyes.

For the love of God, get there, Kev! He was not processing.

“Do you understand? They want me to wake up so they can R-dash-dash-dash me.”

“Oh,” Kev stepped back. “Yeah.” The light finally flickered on in his head. “Gods.” He broke eye contact and looked away.

There was a lot of not making eye contact for a moment. Deep breaths.

“I guess...I can just do two of the tents.” I felt like I was negotiating with a ten-year-old over how many pieces of candy we could each have. “Okay? You two can handle the last one. Go crazy if you want.”

The three of us sneaked over to the empty tent. The thing had a large chest on one side, an old-school round top, like a proper loot chest. If I didn’t just get the ever-loving shit beat out of me earlier today, I would have been jazzed as hell to see it. A cot was in one corner, and a table with glassware, a small burner, and several ingredient jars were in the opposite one.

“Alchemy,” Jinx looked at me with a nod. “Let’s see what this bloke was into.” He headed over and started poking at the containers.

I squatted down next to the chest and examined it. It was about two feet by three feet and beautifully crafted with decorative features, polished wood, and shining brass fixtures. I tried the keys on the lock and found a match.

The dude we killed may have been “Camp Guard,” but he had the keys to everything. As soon as it opened, an inventory screen appeared in the space over it. I didn’t waste time looking at it. I just pulled the thing into my storage space.

NULL SPACE STORAGE OVERLOAD

YOU ARE STORING SIX NULL SPACE STORAGE DEVICES INSIDE A NULL SPACE STORAGE DEVICE INSIDE YOUR NULL SPACE STORAGE.

YOU ARE SUFFERING VERTIGO DEBUFF UNTIL THE OVERLOAD IS CORRECTED

TIME REMAINING: INDEFINITE.

“Fuck.” I collapsed to my knees. The other two rushed to my side, but I put a hand up. My head was doing somersaults as I suffered the debuff. I just had to push through all the wavey lines.

“Too many storage devices,” I grunted. “Give me a second.”

I fought the dry heaves while trying to access my inventory. Hundreds of items filled my vision, exacerbating my already suffering senses. I quickly and painfully sorted the list until I reached the personal storage items and promptly dumped them out of my inventory: four rings, a necklace, and a bracelet clattered to the tent's floor. The debuff stopped immediately.

“That was stupid,” I rolled onto my back, trying to keep whatever was in my stomach down. “Seriously, so fucking stupid.”

“That one’s mine.” Kev picked up one of the rings. Jinx reached down and grabbed the bracelet, a clip-on gold chain that looked like someone had taken a hammer to it.

He helped me to my feet, and I took a couple of deep breaths.

“What about the rest?” Jinx asked.

“Heather has one. The rest are probably from their victims.” Kev said, poking at the small pile of rings. “They’re just waiting to get them cracked by a ritualist.”

“Ours now,” I snatched them up and slipped them back into my space. Since they were no longer in the chest, the vertigo did not return. That meant I could increase my storage by adding devices to my space. Cool, I thought.

I was letting this crap distract me, though. I needed to do some fucked up shit in a very short time.

I plopped Camp Guard’s armor down. “Okay, Jinx, you need to put this on.”

“I don’t wear armor, love.”

“Just until we clear out the sentries. Sit on the log by the fire. That’s where this guy was. It should only take a couple of minutes. Kev, stay in here.” I pointed to the floor of the tent.

“Both of you keep an eye on Heather.”

“Why are you suddenly in charge?” Kev glared at me.

“Shhh,” Jinx said, holding his finger to his lips. “Right now, jus’ Listen to ‘er.”

“Kev, this is a stealth operation. You two guys are great, but we will lose in a straight-up fight.” I pulled my cloak out of my storage space and slipped it on.

“After Gem and I do our thing, I want you to watch my back while I finish off the others.” I pulled up the hood. “Tent number three is yours, so you’ll get some payback.”

I slipped out of the tent a second later, not waiting for his reply. Jinx was right behind, wearing the guard’s armor.

Jinx: You up for this Love?

Regan: I already looked a man in the eye while I killed him. It was the most horrific thing I ever did or saw.

Jinx: Sweet Jesus!

Regan: So, yes and no. Up for it, yes. Looking forward to it, no. I am going to be very fucked up for a while.

Jinx: Love, I’m so sorry it came to this.

Regan: I got my ass handed to me when I tried to fight fair. So, no more fighting fair. These men aren’t even men, their fucking animals.

I activated Stealth and slipped around the camp’s perimeter, hugging the shadows until I reached the right-hand tent. The guard there was alone—perfect. He wore the same scaled armor as his buddy but no helmet. Shaggy brown curls spilled across his forehead, making him look younger, maybe in his early twenties.

For a second, I thought of Jinx and his grunge band back in the nineties. This guy could’ve been one of his bandmates, rocking out under cheap stage lights and breaking hearts all over London. Too bad he was here being all gross and rapey.

Shaggy sat on a little bench a few feet from the tent’s side, arms folded and chin dipped to his chest. Was he asleep? It was hard to tell, and I wasn’t about to test it. I took the safe route, moving in behind him.

Stealth kept me silent, at least on the outside. Inside? I could hear every sound my body made. My heart was pounding like a kick drum, every breath sounded like a wind tunnel, and I was pretty sure I could hear the sweat rolling down my temple. It was a great skill to have, but not the best for anxiety.

I drew in a steadying breath as I circled closer. I started my little mental timer. Counting down ten seconds in my head, I focused on him—this grungy little asshole ruining my night.

At three, I pulled out Sick Stick. The instant it was in my hand, I felt the familiar surge of strength and dexterity. Fear was still there, coiled tight in my chest. My body was vibrating like a busted guitar amp ready to blow. But my hand? Steady. No tremble, no hesitation.

At the count of one, I carefully reached for the man’s moppy hair with my right hand. On the count of zero, I gripped hard and yanked his head back to expose his neck. In as quick a motion as I could, I reached across with the dagger and then pulled it back across his throat. Sick Stick did its thing and sliced silently through his Adam’s apple and both carotids.

BACKSTAB ATTACK ON CAMP GUARD

12VP DAMAGE WITH SICK STICK DAGGER

X2 BACKSTAB DAMAGE

X3 CRITICAL WEAKNESS DAMAGE

X3 SLEEPING ATTACK DAMAGE

216VP DAMAGE

SEVERE BLEED EFFECT DAMAGE

20VP/SECOND

SEVERE DAMAGE TO THROAT AND LARYNX

60VP/SECOND

CAMP GUARD SUFFERS STUN DEBUFF

TIME REMAINING: 3 SECONDS

CAMP GUARD SUFFERS TILT A HURL DEBUFF

TIME REMAINING: 5 SECONDS

I dropped the blade and gripped him by the mouth with both hands, hugging his head against me with all my strength. He scrambled and fumbled quietly, unable to scream out and too stunned to function as his body went into shock. Everything leaked out of his neck. Blood gushed from the severed arteries. Vomit and mucus spurted from his exposed trachea as he choked.

The world was silent, but I could hear each time he struggled for air, his severed throat pulling blood and vomit into his lungs and every beat of his heart as it slowed. I could hear the rush of blood as it pushed its way out of his severed arteries.

The damage notices ticked down. He lost more than a quarter of his life in the initial attack. And was losing one hundred Vitality Points per second after. The only sounds anyone would be able to hear were the scraping of his feet on the ground and the soft trickle of fluids as they ran down his front. Even his labored breaths were inaudible to anyone on this planet but me. He grew cold as the final notice came on:

YOU HAVE DEFEATED CAMP GUARD.

+500xp

CORPSE:

CAMP GUARD.

LOOTABLE ITEMS:

LOW-QUALITY SCALE ARMOR

ONE-HANDED SWORD, MEDIUM QUALITY

DAGGER, MEDIUM QUALITY

CAMP GUARD KEYS

3GP

7SP

19CP

DO YOU WANT TO LOOT?

Camp Guard. It was strange that The Whisperer didn’t tell me their names. She certainly would have known who they were if she had known enough to know what they were. Then again, this shit would be harder the more I knew about this guy. I selected Yes. All of what he had, transferred to my storage space.

I lowered his naked body to the ground silently because that was how I rolled. I picked up Sick Stick. My hands rock fucking steady the whole time. Gingerly and with abundant caution, I listened to the tent, trying to sense any disturbance inside. There was nothing, just the sound of snoozing.

I inched around the back side until I was in position for the next one. The guard was supposed to be stationed on a bench next to the front flap of the center tent.

I had been in stealth mode for quite a while now and decided to use a minor AP potion to top off my points. I selected it in the inventory and thought about drinking it. And surprisingly, it splashed right into my mouth, leaving an empty bottle in storage. It tasted like flat orange soda. It would have been nice if someone fucking told me I could just consume something straight from storage! I screamed in my head, hoping The Whisperer heard that and felt a little bad at least.

I peeked around the corner, and there he was. His eyes were fixed on the moon above. It is easy to get lost in that view, I should know. He had no armor at all. Just wearing a doublet and tights. His hair was blonde and cropped short, and he was surprisingly clean-shaven for being part of a bunch of degenerates.

With my enhanced night vision, it was plain as day, and I had to remind myself that the dim, aqua moonlight wasn't much for most people to see with. The other guard was sitting on a similar bench, wearing only a basic tunic and pants. His armor was just a leather breastplate and some arm protection.

Regan: Gem, will one arrow take out the guy in leather armor?

Gem: Yeah

Regan: On my mark.

Gem: Ready

I started counting down again, from Ten to Zero. I slipped around the corner in full stealth on four. Sick Stick came into my hand on three. On one, I sent word to Gem.

Regan: Drop him.

Gem: With pleasure.

Thwip! I slid behind my guard as the arrow struck the forehead of Gem’s. It was the same tried and true procedure. I grasped him from behind and slid my dagger across the neck. I held him close and tight, listening and feeling him die. Good times.

DAGGER SKILL INCREASED

Dagger: Level 2

+1 Str +1 Dex

You have used this weapon enough to increase your proficiency. All daggers now have an increased chance of causing damage. All daggers now inflict 1.5x damage to critical areas on successful attacks.

Regan to Party: Okay, Boys, come on over, Gem, you too.

Jinx: Understood.

Kev: Understood

Gem: Got it.

A couple of moments later, the entire party stood before the three tents, except for Heather, who was still hiding under the cart.

“You really don’t need to do this,” Kev whispered.

“Then you run in there and take out nine fucking 'ardened criminals,” Jinx replied. “This 'as nuffin to do wiv noble intentions.”

“You think I like this shit?” I held up a finger to Kev. “In fourth grade, Kelly-Jo Melinski picked a fight with me because she thought I was moving in on her boyfriend. She gave me a black eye. That was my last fight before coming here. I just fucking offed two assholes, Jason Voorhees style.”

“I think we can win this fight.” Kev was right up against me and Jinx.

“You didn’t win the last time,” Gem whispered.

“If we split up and take on a tent each, we might each get one, but the other two will be on us,” I said. “And don’t forget, I suck in a fair fight.”

“This is wrong,” Kev said, holding his hands out.

“No shit,” I whispered. “We have to Rogue this. Cover me, just in case. Please.”

I ducked into the first tent without waiting for a response, completely silent. I paused just inside to take it all in. I could see everything in the darkness like it was day. Three men lay on small cots evenly spaced in the twelve-foot-wide tent, with a small chest on the far side. All were fast asleep on their backs, completely unaware of my presence; two of them needed to be treated for sleep apnea.

I was pretty sure I didn’t need the extra kick from my vomit-inducing dagger to do this, so I pulled a regular one out. There would be less mess, anyway.

I just moved to the cot on the left. The dude was there. He was a big guy. He looked like a bearded baby lying there. In my world, he would have looked like your typical middle-aged dad dropping you off at band practice. But in this place, it was easy to see how he could look brutish if standing over me.

My brain was screaming as I moved the dagger into position just to the left of his sternum. My right hand held it steady by the handle. My left was on top of the hilt so I could drive it down with full force. Again, steady hands, even though the rest of me felt like a plate of Jello in Jurassic Park.

I shoved it into his chest, halfway to the hilt. Eight inches of steel plowed through the bone and into the muscle of his heart. The notifications came and went.

I let go of the blade and, with all the strength I could spare, I pressed down on his mouth, keeping him from crying out. He opened his eyes and tried to move, but his arms didn’t know what to do. He tried to free himself from my grasp but had no chance. The heart was dead. He wouldn’t pull it together in the short time he had left.

His eyes, pale blue in my strange elf vision, glazed over. And his body went limp on the cot.

One Down, five to go. I sighed and wrenched the dagger out of his chest. There was just a little bit of blood—almost none. Stab the heart with the nice sharp blade, and you have less of a mess to deal with. Good murder tip.

I froze momentarily, listening to the other two men as they slumbered away. Nothing. I was happy and mortified at the same time.

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU HAVE ADVANCED TWO LEVEL 2.

+1 DEXTERITY

+1 STRENGTH

+1 INTELLIGENCE

YOU MAY NOW ASSIGN 3 POINTS TO YOUR ATTRIBUTES AT ANY TIME.

YOU HAVE ADVANCED TO LEVEL 2 ROGUE.

NEW JOB ADDED:

ASSASSIN: LEVEL 1

You have killed five enlightened beings while utilizing stealth. Most people won’t add that to their resume, but that unlocks the Assassin Job for you. Throughout Nya's history, the world was shaped not by who was born but by who was killed. The cold hand of death has started or ended many wars. Be it for money, infamy, or psychotic impulse, the assassin has shaped the destinies of nations. You are now part of the dark fraternity of those who wield the tools of death with absolute precision. The Assassin Job includes the Soft Spot Benefit at Level One. New Benefits unlock every ten levels of this job.

+1 DEXTERITY

+1 CHARISMA

SOFT SPOT BENEFIT UNLOCKED

SOFT SPOT BENEFIT

This benefit guides the assassin's hand. The first strike outside of combat has a greater chance of hitting a critical target area.

BACKSTAB UPGRADED TO SNEAK ATTACK: LEVEL 1

3X DAMAGE ON ALL SNEAK ATTACKS.

Backstab is no longer a thing. A good sucker punch will offer the same advantages. The damage is tripled as long as the attack is made by surprise to the target.

ONE AND DONE: LEVEL 1

10% INSTANT KILL ON THE FIRST LANDED ATTACK ON A CRITICAL AREA.

From now on, if you initiate combat, the first strike, if on a critical area, will have a ten percent chance to kill the target instantly.

You have passed level 10 Dexterity.

Disarming Traps Level 1 Unlocked.

DISARM TRAPS: LEVEL 1

You may disarm Any mechanical trap you can find if you possess the proper tools. This also allows you to analyze the workings of any trap you examine. Does not work with magical traps.

I could barely process the news. The Whisperer had taken things to the next level as she described all the new stuff I just got. The world decided it was time to add something to my resume: Assassin.

I looked down at the asshole I just killed—the third guy in the tent. The dagger poking out of him made him look like a windup toy.

“Oh fuck,” I whispered/sighed.

I wrenched the dagger out, and it came free with a schloop. I wiped the blade off on the blanket and admired my handy work. Three perfect kills. Stab, stab, stab and done.

The world acknowledged my good work and rewarded me with the job of killing people. The Whisperer was right about one thing: stuff moves fast for rifters.

I stepped out of the tent into the thick soup of awkwardness that was The Animaniacs party. Gem leaned on her bow, watching me with concern. Jinx had his usual resting bitch face, and Kev looked almost hostile. The orc was pissed, to be sure, but at the same time, I could see that there was a trace of something else on his face. He looked relieved.

“It’s…” I whispered to everyone, trying to find the right words to break the tension. “…going good?”

Then I added in my let’s say stupid shit because I’m a stupid shit voice. “How are you guys?”

Jinx nodded at me with an awkward smile. Kev didn’t say or do anything. Gem let out the breath she’d been holding for a hundred years or so.

“I’m gonna...just gonna…”

I downed another AP potion and moved to the next tent.

Rinse and Repeat.

I emerged from the second tent in less than ten minutes. It went faster with my new Sneak Attack skill and the fact that my Dagger skill jumped to level three right in the middle of all that. One and Done even activated once. Awesome stuff.

“Go get ‘em,” I said wearily to Jinx and Kev.

They bolted into the last tent, Hell-bent on making as big a commotion as possible. It was very loud but short between Kev’s massive hammer and Jinx’s lightning magic.

QUEST COMPLETED:

ESCAPE FROM CAPTIVITY

REWARD:

FREEDOM

The boys emerged after a couple of moments, looking a little better for it.

“Love,” Jinx said, walking up to me. “It don’t get any rougher than that.”

“It would have been,” I said flatly. “If they had their way with us.” I switched out of the black armor into my tunic and pants. “Loot the bodies. Then pile their naked asses in those fucking carts.” I started walking toward the back of the camp. “I’m gonna check on Heather.”

Kev started to say something, but Jinx put his hand up.

“’k love,” he said.

Heather was still hiding on the ground under the cart, right where I left her. I came over and plopped down next to her underneath.

“Heard a commotion,” she said.

“That wasn’t me. My kills are much neater.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Eight.” I leaned back against the cart’s wheel. “I stabbed six through the fucking heart and slit the throats of the other two.”

I held out my hands. “Not a drop of blood on me. Which makes no sense. Oh yeah, just unlocked Assassin, Level One. Mom would be proud; I finally got a job.”

“Just because you unlocked the job doesn’t mean that’s who you are.” She reached out and took my right hand. As soon as she touched it, I realized I had been trembling. “As soon as you were locked in that cage, you weren’t coming out the same.”

“The creepy thing is it was so fucking…easy.”

“Which part?”

“The killing part. It’s not like I ever came close to anything like that before. And then boom! Eight perfect kills.” I pulled my hand back.

“Oh yeah, and one assist. Almost forgot about that.” I clenched my fists. “I knew exactly what to do, as though it were instinct. It was as if I had been doing it my entire life.”

I pointed over at the tents. “I made peanut butter sandwiches with less skill than what I did over there.”

Heather placed a calming hand on my shoulder. “I can’t explain it. I’m a person of faith, and I believe the gods sometimes guide us to do extraordinary things we can’t normally do ourselves.”

“I don’t suppose the Goddess of Purity guided my hand tonight.”

“She might have.” She shrugged. “Or some other god. Or maybe no god at all. I mean, who knows?” She placed her arm around me. “Maybe you are just extraordinary.”

“There’s never been anything extraordinary about me,” I mumbled, my head down.

“I seriously doubt that. The Regan Summer, that fought to save her friends, escaped magical shackles, and dispatched a gang of rapists and slavers in less than an hour, is extraordinary by any measure. I refuse to believe that you are anything less than that. Maybe this crazy world just awakened it.”

She hugged me, squeezing me tight. “I will always be grateful for what you did. But…” She had her face close to my ear and whispered. “We are never, ever going to have sex.”

We both burst out laughing. I felt the tears stream down as we held each other. Both of us felt grateful to be alive. We held on for a moment, feeling the tension slip away.

“Just not into girls,” she said with a smile.

“Okay,” I wiped my face, and I pulled back.

“Any of these yours?” I removed the last four storage rings from my storage space.

She picked a ring from my hand and slipped it on her finger. There was a flash of steam or smoke. She was clad in a new, pristine robe and had another staff lying across her lap.

Kev arrived a moment later., dragging two bodies behind him. Jinx and Gem were right behind with one.

“Little help, loves?” Jinx asked, grunting at the effort.

“Why are we doing this anyway?” Kev asked.

“Because,” Jinx said, grunting as he heaved the body into the cart, “we need to send a message.”

“No,” I said, crawling out from underneath. “It’s not about sending a message. We want it to look like an overwhelming force took these guys out, so they don’t come looking for us.”

Kev shot me an appraising look. “Who even thinks of that?

Heather smiled up at him. “Rogues.” She stood up, joining me and Gem. We headed to the front of the camp to start hauling the bodies.

“Rough night?” Gem asked as we walked.

“Not my best,” I said. “But we had to do something.”

“You get your spiritual guidance?” Gem nodded over to Heather.

“Yeah. Are things really this fucked up in this world?”

“Not really,” she said. “Not in the Empire, at least. We deal with outlaws regularly and hunt down monsters that cause trouble. I mean, you hear about this kind of stuff, but nowhere around here.”

“So, this is a new thing?”

“Kind of,” Gem shrugged before reaching the first tent. “There are gangs that press people into slavery, but it’s legal if someone is trespassing in Imperial territory, but they mostly work in the border regions.”

“So, it’s legal to capture someone and force them into slavery?”

“Illegal entry will cost a year of servitude,” Heather said. “Followed by deportation. There’s pretty much an open bounty. If a gang captures someone, they just register them and put them on the market. If there are any mistakes, the magistrate catches it.”

“That’s a pretty good incentive to not cross illegally,” Gem said.

“Yeah, but what these men did is straight-up criminal,” Heather replied.

“You said they were going to ship us out of the country,” I told Heather. “So, this is just kidnapping and human trafficking.”

“They told me that was the plan,” she said. “Once we leave the Empire, we don’t have any rights.”

“It makes sense. I suppose.” Gem said. “But this kind of criminal enterprise in the middle of the Empire is fucking crazy. I’m surprised it even exists.”

“Maybe the Empire isn’t as in control as people think.” I mused. “Or just doesn’t give a shit.”

“The roads are always a dangerous place,” Gem said. “We’re in the countryside, so you can expect trouble occasionally, but nothing organized at this level.”

“But just killing people and stealing their shit seems like an easier way to make money.”

We reached the second tent. I stood back while the other two entered. I took a breath and looked up at the moon above. I wanted to give myself a moment before facing what I had done. The killing was easy. It was almost instant and painless for the men in the tents. That made me feel better, at least.

Inside, I found it lit by a glowing lamp. I had gotten used to seeing in the dark, and the colors were vibrant and golden inside the beige canvas walls. The three lay on their cots, all on their backs, each with a tiny hole in their chests. There was almost no blood. They looked like they were asleep.

“That’s the one that kicked me,” Heather said, pointing at the one on the far right. “The Goddess says to forgive.” She shook her head. “Fuck that guy, though.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, “I didn’t mind plugging him.”

We’d looted everything—the bodies, the chests, anything that wasn’t nailed down. I mean, they were tents, so nothing was nailed down. The bodies were stripped, unceremoniously dumped into the carts, and stacked like meaty puzzle pieces. Kev and Jinx dismantled the tents and shoved them underneath while Gem and Heather wrangled the horses and prepared the carriage. Efficiency at its most macabre.

I stood back, watching in silence as the plan came together. We couldn’t leave the camp intact for their comrades to stumble upon. No, we had to erase it—scorched earth. The fire would handle most of the evidence, especially the inconvenient fact that one person had done the bulk of the killing. For good measure, I notched a few arrows and peppered the bodies with extra wounds.

After the cleanup, I pulled out the last four of my magic soap bars.

“Time to de-gore,” I muttered, passing them around.

Wordlessly, we turned away from each other, scrubbing down like guilt-ridden murderers.

I lathered and scrubbed until my skin felt raw. The magical bubbles worked tirelessly, sweeping away blood, filth, and, with any luck, a little of my self-loathing.

Muck dripped from my hair, splattering the ground at my feet in wet, crimson clumps. I washed away everything I could from the outside.

When I was finally clean, I stood still. My naked body shivered in the cool night air, droplets of water tracing paths down my skin. I closed my eyes. Could there really be a hand guiding any of this?

I thought about Gods—the ones from this world and the ones from my old one. Believing in them still felt impossible. The idea that my actions could be guided by a force with any claim to goodness? I couldn’t allow it.

Heather’s faith was something I envied. Hell, I envied the comfort faith gave anyone. Skepticism might look good on paper, but it doesn’t help you sleep at night.

I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the crisp night air. It was beautiful out—quiet, still. I let the breeze dry my skin, the chill brushing over me like an old friend.

The goosebumps on my arms reminded me of how exposed I was. Naked, not just in body, but in spirit, even among my friends. With a thought, I summoned my old T-shirt from storage and slipped it over my head.

“Ready for the final act?” Jinx asked. He placed a shaking hand on my shoulder.

Gem and Heather clambered wearily into the carriage. Kev climbed up to the coach’s box, reins in hand, looking ready to bolt.

I nodded. “Let’s finish it.”

Jinx sighed, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from a long day of abuse, murder, and manual labor.

“Been a day, hasn’t it, Love?”

“Yup.”

He raised his hands, palms facing each other, murmuring something. A ball of fire flickered to life, growing and swirling between his fingers. With a sharp motion, he split it into two fiery spheres. Each palm unleashed a spray of flames, igniting the tents beneath the carts in a brilliant blaze.

The fire roared to life, devouring wood and canvas with hungry intensity. Two more fireballs blasted directly into the carts, sending the bodies inside up in flames. A wave of hot air blasted against my face, blowing my hair around in angry little circles.

“Tha' 'll get the job done, if anyfing will.” Jinx lowered his hands with a dramatic puff of smoke. “Best not stick around too long.” He sniffed the air and grimaced. “The smell.”

He wasn’t wrong. The stench of burning meat and hair was enough to churn even the toughest stomach. I watched the fire spread, counting down silently from ten to one. Killing wasn’t hard. That was the disturbing part. It was stupid fucking easy.

A few days ago, I thought I could sneak through this world and avoid this kind of thing. But even if I did, I would just be punting the ball. Someone else would have to do it. Or worse, men like this would keep roaming, terrorizing others. The universe had a sick sense of humor, choosing me to be the one to stop them.

“Fuck you,” I muttered at the sizzling, greasy bonfire. I looked up at the star-filled sky. The brilliance of the stars in this world was undeniable; every night, the heavens looked down in majestic glory.

“Fuck you, too,” I said to any god that might be listening.

Kev glanced down from the coach box, his face unreadable. I waved; he gave me a half-hearted one back. He either thought I was terrifying or just plain awful. I’d have to figure that out later.

Climbing into the carriage, I took in the surprisingly roomy interior—designed for nine men with space to spare, plus storage on top. A single mage lamp cast a soft, yellow light in the compartment. There were three rows of nicely padded seats. Jinx sat on the frontmost rear-facing bench; his gaze was down, avoiding eye contact. Heather and Gem were slumped on the back bench, leaving plenty of room for me.

I slipped in between them, leaning my head on Gem’s shoulder. Heather leaned against me in turn, her weight reassuring and grounding. No one said a word as the carriage started rolling, gravel crunching beneath the wheels. The lamp swayed with the motion, painting dancing shadows on the walls.

I closed my eyes, counting down from ten again. Sleep, as always, came easy.