Inke the Tattoo Troll sat every still in the chair, while his Inkmages stayed in the shadows. He was in his new inner sanctum, and he had the ultimate tattoo ready if it came to that. But he didn’t think it would come to that. It shouldn’t. It wasn’t like they were going up against anyone with any real talent.
It was those Audit Team Six losers.
Inke was glad that it wasn’t any other team of dungeoneers. He might feel a little bad murdering the German Freundschaftsbeziehungen, Team Two, or Team Five. Not the Quatros, though. The fourth team, led by Quisling, were so weird in their cloaks and silence, that they were almost as bad as Audit Team Six. But no. Those loser dungeoneers shouldn’t even be in the building. No one should be. There was a reason why this was all happening during the Fiscalia.
In the end, though, it was probably for the best. Because without Audit Team Six, Inke’s Vanilla Master might not have had the time to finish his grand plan—to get his Vengeance, capital V, and then change the multiverse forever.
All possible worlds. All possible tattoos. All ink everywhere.
His Vanilla Master had just given Inke the bad news. The first Celestial Node had been captured by the losers.
It made him angry. No one should cross His Vanilla Master. He was perfect in every way. And he smelled so good. More than that, he was powerful beyond belief and so clever—genius really, and Inke could appreciate genius.
His Inkmages—Naravvo, Zollie, and Chrizz—muttered to themselves in the darkness around him, in the shadows…so many shadows. Only the one light blared down on Inke, in his inner sanctum of the second-level dungeon, sitting in his ink-stained chair with his dungeon core gem floating above him.
Never-Oh finally hissed at him. “They don’t have what it takes.”
Zollie chimed in. “You’re right, they don’t.” He gestured with the lollipop he was always sucking on.
Chrizz agreed. “They don’t have what it takes to be masters of the ink. We are masters of the ink. And we worship our creator. All hail Inke with an ‘E’”
Inke sighed. He didn’t need to talk to his minions. They came from his own flesh. He did have to warn them, though. “Inke is just okay. No with an ‘E.’ Me troll. Comes with troll names.”
“From your storied past.” Naravvo nodded. “Yes, we know about that. How could we not? We’re best buds.”
Chrizz undid a button on his shirt. He was the most stylish of the Inkmages, a real clothes guy. “More than just best buds. We’re Inke’s ride or die. Together until the end. We have what it takes.”
“We have what it takes.” Zollie popped his lollipop back into his mouth.
The three shadowy men circled him as they talked.
Inke liked the attention. He didn’t mind worshipping His Vanilla Master because he was worshipped in return by his Inkmages. He loved the adoration. He would never tell anyone that. No way. It would be shameful to say that he liked having minions because in the end, he was their god.
Inke liked working at the Department, sure, and he liked helping audit dungeons, setting off traps, doing a lot of the same work that Kronke did for Audit Team Six. But on his off time, Inke would go to the practice dungeons in the basement, create a dungeon, and hang out with his minions. And he had more minions than just the Inkmages. A lot more.
But the Inkmages were the most sentient, and working together, they were his floor bosses. They talked to him, even when they were unmanifested, just tattoos on his skin. It calmed him. It was like having your best friends around you all the time.
Zollie smoothed his moustache. When he wasn’t fiddling with his lollipop, he was smoothing his moustache. “You’re upset about something. I know it. What’s eating you, Inke?”
The Tattoo Troll grumbled, “Inke heard first Celestial Node fallen. Our Vanilla Master is upset. Inke is next. But Inke not want to wait. Inke want to attack. Waiting for orders.”
“We could go.” Naravvo blinked his wet black eyes. One eye was visible. The other was covered with long midnight hair. Half of his head was shaved. “We’re your Inkmages, dude. We can do it.”
Chrizz undid another button on his shirt. “Never should’ve sent the bats, bro. Those bats never do anything. We should’ve gone and intercepted them at Weavelord’s entrance. That was my plan.”
“It was a bad plan, man,” Zollie said with some force. “We still need to be all mysterious and stuff. Audit Team Six don’t know what’s really going on, right? Now that they’ve killed their boss, I bet they’re all kinds of messed up.”
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Naravvo stopped walking. “We’d be messed up if we killed our boss. Like we’d never do that. Because, you know, if Inke died, we’d die. And I don’t wanna die. So why are we doing all this again? Generally, we just hang out, right? Why are we not just hanging out?”
Inke liked Naravvo the best. He was cool. Not as cool as Inke, who had added a new silver necklace to his ensemble. At the end of the chain hung a sweet-smelling pendant, a gift from His Vanilla Master. The jewelry kept people from messing with his head, which was good, because otherwise, Inke might’ve thought someone was messing with his head. “Inke working for new dungeon core now. All of AT1 is. We going to get Vengeance, and then make multiverse safe. We not do audits. Or maybe do audits with remote access tools. Inke not clear on details. Inke clear on one thing. Must help His Vanilla Master. Which makes him Your Vanilla Master.”
Zollie shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. Vanilla Masters for everyone. But I thought you got into this game to protect the Tree of Souls. I’m not the smartest Inkmage—that would be Chrizz— but I am smart enough to know we are sucking down a ton of Apothos. And not from just our Celestial Node but the five others as well.” Then he sucked on his sucker.
“Four,” Chrizz corrected. “Weavelord lost his. Or something. Right, Inke?”
Inke nodded. “Right.”
His Inkmages were bringing up some good points. Yeah, the Tattoo Troll had known about the Tree of Souls since he’d been a kid. He’d dreamed about the Tree, and there had been a dungeon close by on the troll homeworld, Trolle Holle. The dungeon guardian, a big green dragon who breathed poison gas, had been surprised when some troll kid showed up on his doorstep, talking about the Tree of Souls, and wondering how he could protect it. That green dragon had ties to Nightfall University, and long story short, Inke had been reaped, chose to stay a basic troll, but added in the tattoo magic. The green dragon had liked tattoos, and the pair had bonded over that.
At Nightfall University, Inke had heard about the Department of Universal Dungeon Efficiency, and since the Tattoo Troll had enjoyed working with his buddy the green dragon, he decided to join an auditing team. In the end, though, being part of a team was a lot of emotional work. Hanging out with his minions was more fun, and yet, Inke had seen the good he’d done.
Or had he done good?
His Vanilla Master said that the Department was evil, that it had wronged him, and he wanted Vengeance. And not just Vengeance for himself, but Vengeance for all the harm it had caused worlds across the multiverse.
Inke could see her point. Or he thought he could. He shook his potpourri pendant, inhaled the nice cinnamon smell, tinged with vanilla, and knew he was doing the right thing.
Chrizz rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and then rolled them down. Then up again. “What does Our Vanilla Master want? To just wait here? Or are we going on the defensive? And when are they going to tell us? Because if Weavelord is gone, I say we strike first. Retake the Celestial Node, so we have power from all five Nodes again.”
Inke nodded. Chrizz was the smartest. No, the coolest, but the smartest.
Inke was about to respond, when the gem above his tattoo chair brightened, gleaming brighter and brighter.
Inke grinned. Additional Apothos was streaming in, being redirected from all the worlds they were stealing Apothos from. Not stealing. His Vanilla Master had made it clear they were borrowing the energy. They’d return it once he ascended to S-Class. Or was it triple S-Class?
Either way, His Vanilla Master would set things right. Those worlds would get the energy back, and the Department would be restructured, and Inke would get a bunch of time off to hang out with the Inkmages and not deal with the AT1 as much.
Inke didn’t like to hold onto resentments, but his teammates could be so exhausting.
Amorfo Deuce was so self-absorbed while at the same time being so emotionally needy. Cardiganna Lowhand could prattle on and on about nothing when she wasn’t fishing for complements. Then there was Barbara Starmyst, who was just such a flake. Barb was as spacy as Cardi was vain.
Yes, Barb was very good at decorating dungeons, and getting the look just right, and she’d helped him with his tattoos and centering his artwork, but she was just so out there. If he had to hear about the power of her healing crystals one more time, he just might snap.
So Inke would take breaks. Especially from Amorfo, who always wanted to hang out. There was a guy who hated being alone.
Then, when Inke was feeling better, they’d go on an audit together, and Inke would feel the camaraderie, and it would be awesome again. He had to remember that.
For a second, Inke was worried about his teammates. And for a second, he was wondering why they all had built dungeons in the basements underneath DUDE’s main offices. But then, it was easy to just forget about that.
His Vanilla Master needed Vengeance. The Tree of Souls needed to be protected in a new way. And Inke had to have faith. In the same way his minions had faith in him.
Speaking of which…a voice filled his head.
Inke swung his legs out from the chair and stood up. “Inkmages. Inke’s Vanilla Master has orders.”
Chrizz made a face. “Do you always have to call him Your Vanilla Master? We get that you have a master now. Kinda strange, but we’re down with it. Just so you know, though, you don’t have to keep using the word ‘vanilla.;”
Zollie shrugged and toyed with his moustache before plucking out his lollipop. “I think it sounds cool. My Vanilla Master. Like an ice cream god.”
Inke ignored the chatter. “Vanilla Master trying to re-route Apothos from first Node. Maybe we no invade Weavelord’s dungeon. But probably we do. First, we improve our defenses. And we talk to Kelly Ryan.”
Naravvo swung his hair out of his face. “Which do we first, bro? Talk to Kelly Ryan or prepare our resources?”
Inke didn’t bother answering. He didn’t need to explain himself to his minions. The Inkmages knew their place, just like Inke knew his place.
He left his inner sanctum to go to Kelly Ryan. He liked Kelly Ryan. Everyone did.
Meanwhile, his gem continued to grow brighter and brighter until all of the shadows in his inner sanctum were gone. Except for one important shadow in one of the many alcoves circling the room. On the wall was a mural of Inke that Barbara Starmyst had helped the Tattoo Troll paint. That shadow was the writing on the wall. Or so the saying went.
Inke’s inner sanctum had always been special. At one time, it had been Cell 12E, the subbasement’s best practice dungeon. Now, it was so much more, thanks to the Apothos flowing into it from all those worlds.
Inke was confident his dungeon was good, but a part of him, a huge part of him, wanted to take back the first Celestial Node. Inke liked all that power the five Nodes were giving them. He liked it a lot.