Shel gave it brief thought, still looking out at the nighttime park, before responding. “As much as Stray Street sounds amazing, I think you should take Master of the Lonely and the Lost. Another free companion card would be nearly impossible to beat, I think, even more than a free building slot. Each Companion card slot is sort of two free power.”
Wolfe nodded along with her words, and when she finished, he took the perk she recommended.
Before he could do more, Shel chimed in again. “You can always take Stray Street at level 50.”
Wolfe snorted at the idea he would live that long and pulled his status chart up.
“What else should I take? I have five pips left.”
“I think you should take an enhancer card slot and take the “caretaker of the lost” card.”
“Your card?” Wolfe asked. “It’s Mortal.”
“It’s a zero-cost card. It doesn’t matter what type it is. And your orphans will be gaining three tiers when they advance, which will make them way stronger for their power cost, as if they weren’t already. Not to mention the static improvements to any given orphan.”
“I suppose I’ll want some actual minion card slots for more orphan cards as well, then,” Wolfe said. “I’ll add another of those, leaving me with two pips.”
“Save for a building slot next—we’ll try and find an orphan-improving one. If we can attach that to the Hellmouth Institute and get them both settled, your orphan cards will be insanely good.”
“I’ll also need cards in hand and deck size, and I’ll soon need another card in play,” Wolfe groused. “These leveling pips spend fast.”
Wolfe made the changes and checked his status sheet.
Ethan Madison Wolfe Status:
Level 25 Mortal [2 pips remaining]
Deckbearer Perks:
Deckbearer Perk 1: In the Thick of it: +50% to all numerical benefits gained from mantles
Deckbearer Perk 2: Man’s Best Friend’s Best Friend: Gain 1 Beast Power. May have one extra card in play so long as it’s a Beast (Canine or Hybrid Canine).
Level 25 perk: Master of the Lost and the Lonely: Orphans gain +1 Tier when they evolve, and any card packs or non-orphan cards gained from orphan advancement are gained twice. Any one [evolved orphan] card of no more than 2 power may be treated as if it were a free-slot companion card with a 0-power cost.
Deckbearer Flaw: Fallen: May not gain Divine Power, nor use Divine cards unless they are also Infernal or Corrupted.
Deckbearer Stats:
Cards in Deck: 15 (1 pip)
Cards in Hand: 4 (1 pip)
Cards in Play: 3 (1 pip)
Length of Play: 5 minutes
Specialty Cards: Companion: 1
Minion: 2 (3 pips)
Total Power: (upgraded 5 times): 8 -1 (Infernal Rift) +1 (Infernal Gun set) = 8. (Total pips 15)
Type 1 and Power: 5 Infernal (5 -1(Infernal Rift) +1 (Infernal Guns))
Type 2 and Power: 2 Beast
Energy 1 and Power: 1 Fire
Personal Perks:
Inborn Perk 1: Vicious Killer: +25% to all Attack and Defense, check twice for Attack modifier and take the best
Inborn Perk 2: Tough as Nails: +10 Health
Acquired Perk 1: Crafty Street Fighter: +3 Attack and Defense
Personal Stats:
Health: 25/30
Attack: 10
Magical Attack [None]: 0
Defense: 10
Magical Defense [None]: 5
“I think I’ll hold off adding the orphan cards for the moment,” Wolfe mused. “Everything got reset for both of us. I’ll leave Malviere in as she can empower my deck as she is, but for everything else I’ll add it once we rescue your sister.”
Shel nodded.
Wolfe did some last alterations to his deck, coming up with his final deck for the rescue operation.
He kept Cereboo and Malviere, his companion cards. He kept Infernal Rift and Cerberus’ Home for Wayward Hellhounds. He kept both Hellfire and Brimstone, the set guns. He kept his Tier-four and Tier-three Angry hellhounds and one of the two Tier-1 Lost Hellhound puppies and his Litter card, so that he could generate a fair number of stacking infernal doggo benefits. He added the Demonic Portal and put his remaining two Tier-3 Angry Hellhounds and a Lost Hellhound Puppy in the side deck—he didn’t have anything to go in the two spare slots, really. He kept his Gehenna Kennel Master and Fireborn Hellhound as his bigger hitters. He kept his Soul Hunter mantle. And finally, he switched his Pack Howl for the Deal with the Devil.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Wolfe kept both Pack Howls and the Desperate Cult Child card, to add to Hellmouth Institute and the Caretaker of the Lost card when the time came to focus his deck on making truly strong evolved orphans.
He gave everything else to Shel. “Sell it and add the profit to our cash stash—we’re going to need to buy a bigger place for the Hellmouth Institute.”
She nodded.
“Ready to save your sister?”
“Of course.”
***
Thirty minutes later, with their car parked a fair distance away, Wolfe and Shel crouched in some bushes and stared across the small patch of grass at the giant, abandoned cannery that was Damian’s new lair.
If Miriam and her spies were correct.
“That’s a huge facility,” Shel said.
She was dressed in dark gray sweatpants and hoodie, almost black but not quite, and the hood was up hiding her red hair. She had wanted an all-black outfit, but Wolfe had convinced her that it was a touch easier to see in dim light, usually.
At her waist, a belt-and-holster held her Glock-19.
Wolfe was dressed almost identically, although multiple sizes larger, and he carried a chest holster with, finally, his STI Edge. He would quite possibly try and use Brimstone or Hellfire if the situation called for it, but since his Edge was 0-power cost and didn’t take a card play, it would be better in most situations where he would take a pistol in the first place.
His belt carried a large knife in it, something absent from Shel’s ensemble.
Both of them had multiple magazines in their deep pants pockets—hardly safe, but it would work for what they were doing.
The giant canning plant Shel was staring at had multiple warehouses near it, and the entire complex sat on what had to be at least a dozen acres. A huge parking lot led from the street to a central point, with the cannery immediately off the side, and the warehouses forming a huge complex in the back, the closest one flush against the cannery on the side farthest from the street. The complex had a couple of the same style vans Wolfe had seen at both the kidnapping sites, but a lone van was in the smaller parking lot next to the entrance to the cannery as well.
It was nighttime, but there were a decent number of lights about the facility, and Wolfe saw a couple people walking the place in security guard uniforms.
He would have bet his Cereboo card that at least some of them were Grimm family retainers in disguise. He’d be surprised if it wasn’t all of them, in fact.
This is gonna be a whole thing. Fuck.
“Where do you think Lucy is?” Shel asked. “The warehouses where the vans are?”
Wolfe glanced at the warehouses, then back at the cannery. “They’re in the cannery I’d bet. The warehouses don’t have lights on inside that I can see, but the cannery does. And a single van is waiting there.”
“How do we get there?”
“Wait for the idiots walking the place to pass, then sprint for the side nearest the road. Try and find someone with keys, or an unguarded way in. Basic shit.”
“Raiding a mob site in the middle of the night outnumbered some ungodly amount to two is basic shit, huh?” Shel muttered.
Wolfe didn’t answer, instead focusing on keeping track of the movements of the guards. The security thugs were actually fairly inconsistent and wildly spaced, and an opportunity almost immediately presented itself.
“Let’s go,” Wolfe said, low and intense.
The two of them leapt from the cover of the bushes. They ran across the couple hundred feet of grass and trees that separated the side of the cannery from the road, moving from tree to tree. Soon, they found themselves in an interior line of ornamental rocks with occasional bushes up against the outside of the cannery.
Wolfe glanced around the side of the cannery at the front door. No one was there. Wolfe rushed around the side and grabbed the front door. It was locked.
Wolfe wasn’t surprised.
He went back around the side to Shel.
“No go?” she asked.
“We’re going to have to ambush someone and get the key,” Wolfe said.
Shel nodded, her face set.
“I’ll handle the guard.”
“It never crossed my mind we’d do it differently.”
Wolfe went till he found a place where the building’s exterior wall had an interior corner with a bush in the little rock garden.
Then he waited for a guard to pass by on the walkway around the facility.
About five minutes of crouching in the bush later, a ripped twenty-year-old with a bald head, beard, and face tattoos came ambling around the corner. He was smoking and had headphones in.
Wolfe chuckled to himself. If this fucker was fat, he’d be the perfect target—but as is, he’s not far out from it.
Wolfe waited a few more seconds for the man to pass his hiding spot, then quickly ran to the corner, peeking back around it to see if anyone was following the smoking thug. No one was.
Wolfe pulled his knife and rushed up from behind the thug and kicked him in the back of the knee. The thug cried out “fuck!” and hit the ground on one knee, but Wolfe kicked him in the back. The man hit the ground, his face bouncing on the concrete walkway, blood spurting from his nose. Wolfe dropped on top of him, landing with his knees to either side of the facedown man, his knife pressed to the side of the man’s cheek where he could see the blade.
“Don’t move, numb nuts,” Wolfe hissed.
The man complied.
Wolfe carefully removed the headphones, surprised when pop music came out as opposed to death metal or phonk or something equally apropos to the appearance of the tattooed man.
“What’d ya want?” the man asked, fear in his voice.
"One sec,” Wolfe replied, patting the man down. He extracted a Desert Eagle—what is it with street thugs and their over-sized hand cannons?—a container of pepper spray, a taser, and multiple zip ties.
Wolfe almost asked him why he had all the gear for restraining people, but then stopped. Of course. He’s guarding to keep the merchandise—people down on their luck—from escaping as much as to keep people from getting in.
He also had a key ring, which was what Wolfe really wanted.
And he supposed the thug’s gear made the next step easy.
“I’m gonna tie you and gag you. If you try and stop me, or shout for help, or anything like that, I’m gonna stab you to death instead. Got it?”
The man nodded, although Wolfe was starting to get a stench from him. It smelled like scared and angry young man.
Being extra careful not to give the thug a chance to act on his growing anger, Wolfe carefully started to zip tie him. Shel joined him, making the process far easier.
Then Wolfe cut part of the man’s shirt free, fashioning a gag.
“Oof. I’d hate to have this man’s b.o. in my mouth,” Wolfe muttered as he tied it tight.
“’uck ‘ou,” the thug said, and Wolfe chuckled, even in the tense situation.
Wolfe grabbed the man and hoisted him into an awkward fireman’s carry, then took him and stashed him in the bushes at the end of the road, praying to whatever deity of whatever faction would listen that he would be held and undiscovered for at least ten to twenty minutes.
He returned to Shel, huffing and puffing, and took stock of himself.
He was still wounded, even after all of Rhett and Shel’s healing, but basically okay. He was at twenty-five of thirty health, but retained a one-point penalty to non-health stats from his injuries.
His deck was as optimized for as many situations as he could make it.
He took a deep breath, held the key ring up, and stared at the front door to the cannery.
Damian was inside, as well as any new lieutenants he had acquired, with his very expensive deck. Quite possibly also people from Worldwide Decurion. And who knew how many thugs with guns.
But so was Shel’s sister Lucy and her friend Shannon.
“Let’s do this.”