I was damned close to being gainfully employed. If there was one thing that I was grateful to the orphanage for, before they started trying to sell me to wealthy perverts, it was learning to read and basic education and figures while I was young enough for my protected child class to give me a huge educational boost. Unsupported education on the net was fast, especially when it triggered odd memories, but I couldn’t even pretend it was anything like a rounded education.
I had a good grasp of grammar and most hard subjects, at least to a low level, but higher-level education and strange sciences, like practical magic and quantum physics, were way out of my range. Similarly, soft subjects like history, psychology, and religion never really caught my interest enough. I knew who Jung and Freud were, and why their theories were the worst sort of popular tripe, but other than Jung being Freud’s student I didn’t have any idea what their philosophies actually were, or what year they lived or wrote their weird mental porn.
Similarly, I’d read some religious works. Most of them read like propaganda or creepy, nightmarish creation mythologies. I kind of liked the New Testament though, since it was full of practical examples from people who really understood humanity of how to live a decent life.
I also knew some basic realities. I didn’t buy into the evolution through natural selection thing since it had too many transparent holes and time-scale issues, and dinosaurs were obviously alien creatures that settled the Earth long before they died off and cleared the way for human immigrants and their mammalian livestock, probably from other silhouette-linked worlds.
But other than that? I knew what I needed to survive, although I might have to delve deeper into things like magic theory if I was expected to fix enchanted items. Not that I would likely ever be able to enchant them myself, but potentially repairing or recharging them seemed to be on the table right now, at least, and who knows what a higher-than-basic vocation might offer if I could evolve it at gold rank?
The rations were a little tasteless, but they were probably the healthiest food I had eaten since the orphanage door had hit me in the ass. The bug juice, though, was surprisingly tasty and refreshing despite its deplorable name, and I really hoped it wasn’t made from actual bugs… but if it was, I’d grin and drink it anyway. I’d enjoyed worse.
I spent my time patiently waiting with my scratch book… a beaten half-empty college-rule notebook and a stub of pencil that I used to outline tentative requirements. Support, obviously, including food and drink, a place to sleep, and a blanket, since I was unlikely to head back to the bridge.
A stipend of some sort, possibly based on my production. I didn’t know how much repairs were worth, but if, at the end of her downtime, she earned my trust, I might be able to look into the healing aspects of my ability more. The problem with being a golden goose, though, and the reason the prospect had terrified me, was that people had a habit of cutting open the goose that laid the golden eggs, even if they knew better.
Being able to ‘mend’ health problems, especially if it wasn’t limited by rarity, was that there were some old monsters that would pay endless amounts to get their problems fixed… more than enough to buy and sell my life, which was currently very, very cheap. I knew people who would happily kill me for a bottle of rotgut and a pair of clean socks.
Training. If her team was made up of combat classes, they could most likely train a non-combat class in self-defense. Known fact, every single rank of any class made you tougher, stronger, and healthier, if not as much as specialist classes that got a trait to that effect. And, of course, the ‘no pimping’ requirement. If I took a girl to bed and traded in my V-card, I wanted it to be by my choice.
Decent training could make even a production or social vocation a dangerous foe since traits gave abilities, not the skills to use them. Smiths that trained in combat, for example, were known to be terrors in a fight. Not only did they have enhanced strength and durability traits, but their hammer was a dangerous weapon, and they could usually make themselves the kind of gear that a basic combat vocation could only dream about.
“What are you writing?” The brawler, who called herself Charlie, asked in between small herds of birthday girls and the occasional boy getting their vocations.
“I am making a list of demands,” I offered. “I figured that the escape helicopter or armored car was off the table, but I might be able to demand an autographed picture of Cindi Lauper, a giant vat of whipped cream, a bowling ball, and a DVD of show tunes played on bagpipes might be possible if I prove I am serious by killing a few hostages.”
Charlie laughed, “Seriously though, you are making things to include in the contract? My shift should be over in half an hour. It might be easier to get my help since I have made team contracts before.”
I nodded, “Yeah, but it’s in your best interests to make sure I forget something important, right? So I figured I could get the really important stuff written down so I don’t forget.”
She nodded, “That is smart thinking, if somewhat paranoid.”
I looked at her closely, “Is my paranoia really unwarranted?”
She shook her head, “No, it isn’t. Not really. I guess people grow up quickly in this dump.”
I nodded, “Yeah. Protected status keeps you from getting murdered or eaten, but it doesn’t prevent people from taking whatever they can from you, and it doesn’t protect you from the nastiest sorts of human predators who make it a practice to manipulate and abuse children who are stupid enough to agree to anything for a mouthful of decent food.”
She looked shocked, “You were abused?”
I shrugged, “Depends on your definition of abuse. I was manipulated, robbed, frightened, and more than once I would have been molested if I hadn’t expected the trap. You lose your protected status at eighteen, but adult controls end at twelve… getting a twelve-year-old addicted to drugs, and willing to do anything to get more of them, is pretty common. If you are adopted, well, silhouette registration as a parent opens up a world of potential, because a parent is allowed to do almost anything to a twelve-year-old short of flat-out murdering them.”
She looked shocked, “Seriously? That is sick.”
I shrugged, “That is normal. Growing up in an orphanage, well, there are an awful lot of orphans. Twelve-year-olds in good health with pretty faces are VERY popular adoption targets, and then, by the time their child protection ends and they can get a basic vocation, they are already hooked on drugs. They are so used to debasing themselves that getting them to sign a slave contract or get put on the streets to turn tricks until they get murdered or die of an overdose is easy. My first adoptive parent tried to get me hooked on ego, and to masturbate into a cup so she could sell it.”
She sighed. “That’s why I wish we could burn places like this to the ground.” she carefully checked over the newest group of future citizens and turned back. “Not that that would help anything, but smaller cities like this, run by dictators with delusions of grandeur, are far too common. I remember back when laws were…”
She looked thoughtful, “Not going to share my age, but I remember before the crash, when the law was upheld between cities, and most people lived to a ripe old age and might never see another dead human until they were very old.”
“Sounds like a paradise.”
She shook her head, “By today’s standards, probably, but it had its own problems… they just weren’t as blatant as they are now. Back then there were no childhood protections, just the law. The law was quick to punish transgressors if it could find them and they weren’t protected by wealth or fame, but there were predators back then, too, who wouldn’t have found age much of a barrier.”
I nodded, “Okay, maybe not such a paradise. Humans are humans, and there are always evil ones who will corrupt and destroy anything they touch. Always have been, always will be, and any law, even silhouette’s edicts, evil humans will find a way to work around.”
She looked at me thoughtfully through the eye spots of her leather helmet. It was shaped sort of like a bear’s head, but she had rather shockingly bright emerald eyes. Muscular, green eyes, and considerably taller than me were about all I could make out of her appearance, at least while she was armored up and on duty.
“Is it rude to ask your vocation? Since you know mine? I only know you have an uncommon.”
She smiled a little, a flash of bright teeth beneath the faceguard of her helmet. I could see her lines of black eyebrows as well, so I assumed she had black hair if she had hair. Some combat types preferred to shave their heads.
“It is considered rude, usually, but this is sort of a special case. I am an uncommon boxer, of the pugilist path, from brawler common and street fighter basic.”
I nodded, thirty levels of advancement were incredible. She was probably an amazing fighter. “Did you get a choice when you advanced?”
She nodded, “Not when I advanced from street fighter to brawler. At that point, things were kind of set in stone. I fight dirty, not fast, or with weapons often. At uncommon I was offered a choice between martial artist and boxer, but I chose boxer because I am my team’s meat shield, and I am not really about the speed so much as I am about ignoring hits and punishing stuff to keep their attention.”
The next group of people to enter was only six, two of whom were slightly older, a man and a woman, who were probably there to confirm advancement rather than gain a new vocation. I had seen a few before, but I couldn’t blame them for avoiding the morning lines of the fresh teenagers looking to gain their basic classes.
She nodded a little, “The morning rush is over. A regular guard will be here soon and then we can negotiate.”
“Is the regular guard as… powerful as you are?”
She shook her head, “No way. The morning rush is usually covered by as strong a guard as possible because that’s when someone might need to deal with an angry prohibited vocation or someone that hopes to snatch up one of the newly-minted kids before they can protect themselves. That’s why I figured you would be at high risk. This was the time of day when the criminal element and immoral watch the shrines most closely for something useful.”
“And the predators have traits that let them scan someone’s vocation?”
She nodded, “It’s actually a pretty common trait. Guard, slaver, hunter, spotter, a ton of paths have identify or some variant like investigate or scan. Mostly we call it scan for short. In general, you eventually learn what getting scanned feels like, and it’s usually considered either enormously rude or a deadly insult to scan someone without their permission, but right now, newly-created vocations rarely notice it.”
“Is there a way to prevent it?”
She nodded, “Artifacts or magic items can block it, although that’s usually obvious, and professional defenders like guards might consider that akin to admitting you have a prohibited class like assassin or trait like bushwhack or necromancy. Some vocations have methods to cheat it or alter what it can tell, and being higher rank than the person who is scanning you or having enhanced will or mental defense can limit or block what they see.”
“But scanning etiquette is sort of a touchy subject. Block it at the wrong time and people will assume you are a criminal, use it on the wrong person and they might take offense and try to kill you for it. It’s a bit like a strip search. There’s a right and a wrong time to do it.”
“So people will come right into a shrine to grab a new kid with a vocation? I noticed you don’t patrol outside.”
She nodded, “Sometimes you will see someone bring in an entire string of people that they control, but there’s a whole culture of bribery and graft and usually they will wait until a more… flexible guard is on patrol since I have the right to stop someone from forcing a slave contract in here. But something like a newly minted necromancer is a lot harder. To get a vocation like a necromancer, you have to be seriously mentally fucked up as a child and a monster, but putting down a fresh-faced kid even though you know they are murderous monsters already is hard as hell.”
After a few more minutes, and me adding things to my ‘wish list’, another person, this time what looked like a man in metal armor, arrived to take her place. Male combat classes were not frequent, because a ranked man could pull down a decent living just by finding the right female protector, but the advantages of male physical development in combat classes were well-known.
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Traits often amplified existing attributes, and when it came to strength, reflexes, and sheer durability, that amplification was often pronounced. That’s probably why Charlie, despite having an obviously powerful combat class, also looked like she spent a considerable amount of time in normal physical training.
“Pretend we are not here for a while, okay, Roger?” Charlie asked, slipping something into the other warrior’s hand. He carried a pair of hammers at his waist, and after watching him for a moment I realized that his gear was… kind of rusty, and badly dinged as he turned away and moved to the other side of the shrine, away from the nook but still near the exit.
“So, would you like to show me your list?”
I glanced at her, getting back to my feet from where I had been sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Right here?”
She nodded, “Oaths and contractor documents are based on the power of the oath-taker, especially if they have an oathbinder vocation. That’s one of those super useful non-combat vocations I was talking about. System contracts need to be handled right at a shrine since the silhouette itself enforces them.”
I pulled the page out of my notebook and handed it over.
After perusing the list for a few moments, she shook her head, “I like what you have thought of, and I especially approve of the training requirement. It might have to wait until you are healthier, but pushing for unlinked traits is always smart. The rest though is not as cool.”
“Too much?”
“Too little. It reads like a list a beggar would put together just to find a safe place to spend the night.”
I gave her the look.
She nodded, “Oh, right. Well, let’s expand that a little. I am going to put you on a standard limited-service contract. Food and shelter at least equal to what the team is getting, equipment, which will include better clothing and shoes, and some silhouette-recognized armor and a weapon, although it might not be much. A half-share if we find a rift, since even if you are incredible support, you won’t be expected to fight. A stipend was smart since you need some disposable income even if we aren’t getting any. A rucksack and supplies, not just a… blanket.”
“I am not sure what piecemeal means, though.”
I shrugged, “Well, my mending implies that I might need some supplies to repair things. If I get powerful enough, my gold circle gift will be something called an upgrade. If that can do what it sounds like, I figured it would be worth it to expect a solid income from it, like maybe ten percent of what it would be worth from a system store, assuming that the supplies are covered.
She nodded, “That’s more than fair for any higher-ranked items, but you should boost it to twenty-five percent. Common and below items, normal stuff, should be covered by your stipend. Even if it’s super cheap, you will need to use your trait to gain ranks in Mender, which we will be providing as part of the training expectation. I don’t want to have to spend every day getting nickel-and-dimed by the cost of fixing torn blankets, bent spoons, and broken straps.”
I nodded, that sounded beyond fair. “If my mending turns out to extend beyond simple items, can we negotiate?”
She nodded, “Of course. I mean, Renee’s shield was shattered during our last delve, and it’s an uncommon enchanted item. If you can fix that, you have every right to expect a decent payment, since getting a smith to repair it and enchanter to re-enchant it would be extremely expensive, as would buying a new one with a similar blessing.”
I hoped I could, I really hoped mend could extend that far, but I was actually thinking of the biological repair… exposing magical healing would be a huge risk and put a target on my back, and if it was something I could do in the middle of a fight, suddenly I would be an actual combatant.
“is there some way to get information on enchantments? The whole knowledge requirement for mend seems like a sticking point, and probably the reason mender is a basic class… but unless you want me to start trying to disassemble magical gear, I can’t think of any other way to gain it.”
She nodded, writing things down on my list, and making changes. “Enchantment requires a special trait, which means a vocation. It’s not a general trait. But that means that except for runic libraries, which are sort of like trade secrets, general enchanting information is pretty easy to find, although here, possibly not so much. Every enchanter is looking for talented apprentices since the best enchantments are done as multi-person rituals, and making sure that the information is available for every new basic on the enchanter path is just solid good business.”
“How about this?” she handed me back the list and included the exit clause. I was going to be protected and sheltered until her team left the city, with an option to re-negotiate and become a team member assuming all parties agreed that I was a team benefit, and a penalty clause locking her advancement for two years if she broke the contract, or kicking me out with nothing but my to-date earnings and gear if I failed to be an asset.
I was shocked. I mean, I knew delve teams were packed with resources, but it was a hundred times more generous than I expected. A few of the demands were a little worrisome, like mandatory daily physical workouts with weekly breaks, but if they were training and feeding me, I guess it made sense that they’d want to make sure I was as healthy and fit as possible.
“So where do I sign?”
She laughed, “You don’t. We are in a shrine. Look it over, and touch the screen. If you agree, say yes when silhouette asks.”
I shook my head, “I can’t. It won’t work for me because I haven’t advanced.”
Charlie sighed deeply, “Stupid blasted rules Aster… yes, you can still access it for a contract, you just cannot use a local shrine to peruse your abilities or request information until you advance. Aster put that rule in place because she cheaped out on her shrines and didn’t want them overcrowded with minimaxers.”
I put my hand on the screen in the little nook next to Charlie’s. There seemed to be ten normal screens around the shrine, but three ‘extra’ ones in various nooks like this that normal people didn’t enter, I guess for the guards to use to determine security.
In a moment, my mind filled with a duplicate of what was written on the paper, and I saw,
The following agreement is a silhouette-enforced contract.
Processing…
Protocols have determined that one-half share is inadequate compensation for a fully balanced team member, Charlie Winters. Do you wish to amend the contract?
Define fully balanced team members. I heard Charlie whisper. Oh shit.
A fully balanced team includes an anchor, a utility rifter, a primary ranged damager, a primary melee damager, and a utility healer. It also contains sub-utility traits, such as bulk resource retrieval, emergency crafting and repair, and wilderness survival and trap/security traits. A fully balanced team is determined to be three or more times as efficient at clearing rifts as an unbalanced team as well as gaining a balanced team efficiency bonus.
Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask….
I thought we already had a fully balanced team. All team members have taken first aid traits, and we already possess each of those categories.
Negative. Thaniel Kushman Grimm has an established magical medicine trait due to his affinity and thus qualifies as a full support healer. Balanced team reward bonuses apply.
The screen fell away as Charlie tugged on my shoulder, breaking my connection to the screen. She was looking at me intently, and said, “We need to talk.”
***
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to beat it out of you?”
“Seriously?”
She shrugged and whispered, “You have an affinity. It’s powerful enough to dramatically alter a base class trait. Mend can repair an item, and apparently, that includes people as well. Were you going to tell me?”
I blushed, “I was planning to if you turned out to be trustworthy. But it puts a giant target on my back.”
She nodded slowly, “It’s a game changer, but as you said, it requires knowledge… do you have medical knowledge?”
I nodded, “Yes, err… I spent a lot of time at the library computers. I know most basic trauma, how bones are put together, how and why most organs work and are designed, how the nervous system is arrayed, and most hormonal and body chemistry. I was sort of hoping to get a medic vocation, which would net me a scholarship, but I never expected to get a trait that could accomplish… what mend can.”
She sighed. “Game changer. Do you have diagnose or another utility trait?”
I shook my head, “I don’t even know what a utility trait is.”
She sighed. “Okay. Normally what you are could demand a double or triple share, but your mend appears to be touch range and you have a LOT of training to do to make it more useful. Would you accept a full share?”
“You are asking?”
She nodded and laughed. “You don’t delve. You don’t understand. A balanced team gets enhanced rewards. Awards become TEAM awards, which, with a team like ours, means people start picking up specialized gear for their traits and vocations. Split advancement becomes team advancement, which means we rank up at least three times as fast, almost as fast as solo but a ton safer.”
“Even with a double share, we’d all be dramatically improving our resource gains for every delve, but as you have no doubt noticed, what you can do is super rare right now, because it’s… hoarded. Can you tell me your affinity?”
I nodded, “Life.”
She sighed deeply and then whispered, “Holy shit. I have heard of that affinity, but paired with something like mend instead of a summoner or alchemist vocation is incredibly rare. It should be called life and death, but because of the training and the general traits you will need to earn to make the best use of it, I still don’t dare offer more than a full share… the deal also doesn’t end when we leave, unless you choose to end it, because our team won’t willingly let you go.”
She started writing on the sheet again.
“This is going to cause problems for you?”
She nodded, “Oh yeah, so keep it quiet. There are a lot of people that would kill… anyway, just don’t let anyone even guess. Can you regenerate?”
I shrugged, “I haven’t even used the trait yet, obviously. I have no idea what it can do. What’s a utility trait?”
She sighed, finishing writing on the paper. “Let’s get this locked down first and head someplace private so I can lawfully be your protector. I’d hate to have to kill someone just because they had big ears and a bigger mouth.”
I nodded and finally agreed to her deal. She had definitely altered the wording, but the silhouette was kind enough to highlight the changes. There was still an exit clause, but it added ‘under safe circumstances’ to both releases. I guess I couldn’t just quit the team when they were dying, but so far things seemed to be looking up. I still had no idea what a utility trait was, though.
***
Roger watched the starveling and the woman warrior leave and made sure that they had left the shrine before he opened up his cell phone. Working cell phones were pretty rare since no one had access to the technology to make or even efficiently repair them anymore, but professional shrine guards, rather than temporary mercenaries like Charlie, were given them as a priority just in case a situation like this developed.
Combat classes didn’t get many utility trait slots, one or two per class upgrade, because of their combat trait slots. Most guards chose hyper perception, which helped your brain notice and point out details your natural senses could detect and was great for your job prospects, but Roger had Lebanese grandparents and the big, sensitive nose and ears to match… he was a bloodhound, with actual enhanced senses He’d heard their conversation and had a decent idea of what ‘trait’ the street kid possessed.
He took off his helmet, revealing a shock of sweaty and unkempt brown hair, and put the phone to his ear as he carefully scanned each of the newbies for prohibited or potentially useful vocations. Guards got crappy pay compared to delvers but were known to supplement their income with a little creative funding. He made good money selling his seed, but with his sideline, he lived the life of an elite vocation, this job was only to identify targets.
“This is Roger,” he said into the earpiece. “Three prospects. Candy Martin, the pink-haired girl who just left, is a potential oath-binder. Jessica, no last name, is a sensorium, and the last guy is...get this, a healer. True healer, I think. He’s already signed a contract with Charlie’s team, which means taking them out to get to him, but from what I have heard, he will be absolutely worth it, and maybe even genetically true, since I heard the word ‘affinity’.”
He nodded as he listened to the phone, and said, “I heard them tossing around the word regeneration. A very big deal. And Patty? I expect a gigantic finder’s fee.”
He closed the phone and grinned as he slid his helmet back on. Whether Lia's gang decided to lock the kid down or sell him to Aster, this bit of information was virtually guaranteed to make bank. It was sad the way that the kid was going to get treated, but this was a harsh world, and he could salve his conscience with a sexy sensorium or two, a giant bubble bath, champagne, and maybe even some caviar and cocaine. The cartels were brutal to their enemies but loyal to their true friends, and he had been a friend for a long time, and well-known for keeping his mouth shut.