“Roughly four days Charlie” Said Myles Endeavour. “Maybe slightly less.”

The cat was looking at a lot of ink on a whiteboard. Charlie didn’t know what ink or whiteboards were as those concepts were beneath the notice of glorious apex predators such as him. But his human seemed to enjoy making shapes with them so he watched. Besides, you never knew if chicken would happen.

The elder Endeavour gave the younger substantially more feline Endeavour some head scratches. Home DIY was on the back burner again since if everything he was doing at the project site wasn’t enough to make the suit spawn up some new specs then didn’t know what would. Instead Myles was sorting out escape routs, times helped would take to arrive and most importantly, could he sneak John Barrington inside. His current plan involved reusing the reflective vest and clipboard. If that failed he had a ladder in the shed.

Loud banging disrupted the planning session, Charlie Murderpaws relocated from plain sight to a space under the desk from where he could ambush things. Myles defended the stairs and opened his front door to reveal a panting John Barrington and a less breathless John Marquis.

“Thank the Gods you are okay, I was…” John Barrington paused but then looked around warily. “Where is your cat?”

“He’s upstairs, you will be fine, maybe you should come it, sit down, I can get the kettle on, maybe crack open a can or two of Castleford Extra.” Myles stopped talking and looked at their faces. “Is this a posh rum day? because I have some posh rum.”

“A beer would be nice.” Said John Barrington as he entered Myles’ living room and sat on the comfy sofa.

“Posh rum you say.” Said John Marquis, I don’t suppose you have any Pernod and Vermouth, I wouldn’t say no an alabaster negroni.”

The boys settled down with their drinks into the comfy furniture Myles had chosen for his front room. John Barrington and Myles both sipped beer from their pint glasses. They fought enough monsters, there was no need to become one themselves. John Marquis had a smaller glass full of a potent white fluid that was giving Myles nightmares just by existing.

“Pure sophistication in a glass.” Said John Marquis who sniffed and then sipped the aniseed monstrosity.

“What you made me do to those poor spirits was uncalled for and I might never forgive you.” Said Myles

“Anyway Gentlemen.” Said John Barrington who agreed with Myles but needed to get the conversation moving. “We have to talk Myles.”

“I have things to share too, but given you turned up at my house looking like a ghost flew up your arse you should probably go first.”

“Thank you, but don’t joke about such things, I’ve seen it happen.” Said John Barrington. “I need you to tell me everything about your encounter with the Engine Dynasty”

Myles thought he would be over the big shocks by now, after all with fairies and aliens why not ghosts. But the revelation that ghosts can fly up your bum had put him off balance. But he recovered in short order and recounted his encounter with the gastropod driven mechanical death engine.

“Are you sure it hit you” asked John Barrington

“Yes, it punted me down the path like a gooseberry that insulted its mother… These things don’t have a mother do they I’ve got enough on my plate with the pink wankers.”

John Barrington sat in contemplative silence. A silence that carried on. A silence that was interrupted by clinking ice in a glass.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Would you like another one John.” Myles Asked John Marquis

“So good of you to offer Myles, Thank you.”

When Myles returned to the living room John Marquis took his crime against cocktails gratefully while Myles topped up John Barrington’s pint glass as well as his own with nut brown Castleford Extra. Myles had sat back down and barely got his pint to his lips when John Barrington spoke.

“No, it is impossible.”

“Whats impossible, the bum ghosts, the aliens we can see but haven't or the fairies we can’t remember but deal with on a weekly basis that seems to be daily at this present time. Said Myles with an astonishing lack of sarcasm.

“You surviving a direct blast from a member of the Engine Dynasty”

“I didn’t tank it and carry on about my day John, I bounced down that path like the gut of a fat man running tot a pie sale.”

“It’s impossible.” John Barrington said, more quietly this time

“It clearly isn’t, I’m sitting right here mate.”

“Myles, you… you have no idea how powerful the Engine Dynasty is. They are one of the all hands on deck threats. when they turn up. everyone, and I mean everyone bands together to make them leave… and leave is what I mean, not destroy, or win… just make them take their ball and go home.”

“So I should not have survived… again.” said Myles.

“Myles, I’m glad you did, honestly, but I don’t know what this says about you. It makes me worry about the frenzy, it makes me worry about a number of things. You know you should not be physically capable of pulling the head off a whistler. Yet I watched you do it the morning after you first got your Trigger… You move so fast too.. look, sooner or later people higher up the food chain will notice and you will be under a microscope, I don’t want that for you, but that is what will happen.”

“That is plenty to worry about, but honestly, I’ll take a little extra bad-arse right now.”

Myles told his story of clocking the van and investigating all the coincidences around Sweetbright. John Marquis jumped in with some details not previously known. The Arkwright & Fletcher site where the fernseherfett attacked had been previously bid on by Sweetbright. Even the slight detail of the workers being unable to remember the downstairs of the project site. The consensus was something was afoot, even if they could not put their finger on what exactly.

“We will be going with you Saturday Myles, you have our full support.” Said john Barrington

“I’m on a team building exercise in the quantocks.” Said John Marquis, clinking his glass once more.

“I’ll make you another one but not that bloody thing, it stinks.”

“Philistine” said the ungrateful houseguest.

“You will have my support anyway Myles.” Said John Barrington “You just need ot get my a clipboard or something and I’ll walk right in with you.”

Myles handed his mentor the clipboard he had been using for the last two days as well as the reflective vest.

“Do you have one that matches my suit better, and this vest won’t do.” said John Barrington.

Myles just swore to himself and counted to ten before taking the items back.

“I’ll get you a different clipboard but you will still need to dress appropriately. The construction site is no place for purple silk, even if it is a Saturday night.

“I would argue that it is always time for purple silk, but I appreciate that your workplace dress code may be an unenlightened aberration.” Said John Barrington.

“So, I’ve got back up come Saturday, so thats fantastic. But is this Engine Dynasty kerfuffle as bad as you make it out to be?” asked Myles

The tale John spun, indeed sent a shiver down Myles’ spine. The Engine Dynasty were similar in a way to the Billunben, in that they used a prosthetic outer shell. Though this one overtly mechanical in nature as opposed to the puppetry of the Billunben. They began as a fae slave race weaponised but overthrew their oppressors. however their gastropod forms made for poor mechanics so they set about enslaving other races fae or human. As one of the few fae to fully embrace weapons technology they became both hates and an unquestionable super power on the other side. The floating island nation of Sordor, to this day ruled by a big fat tower that controls the machinery of the Engine Dynasty. A bleak machine that takes in slaves and spits to corpses.

“But how much of that is bollocks?’ asked Myles

“Surprisingly little, the history is obviously dubious but the basic facts are there, Slugs in machines, love taking slaves, floating island and they are controlled by the fattest one from a tall black tower… And they are incredibly strong.”

This was all filed in the part of Myles brain marked as shit to worry about much later. There was much worse things to worry about happening at the weekend. so Myles would focus on now and worry about slug driven trains with a superiority complex at a later date.

“Since you are here, can I suggest ordering in Pizza cracking open a few more drinks… No I’m not making any more of that fucking cocktail John its vile.’ Said Myles firmly setting boundaries with his boss.

Pizza times three ordered, as was garlic bread, chicken dippers, chips and three burgers. The calorific onslaught was no match the Trigger backed metabolisms. As the night bore on, drinks turned to drinking games. Replacement Bus Service, the drinking game to end all drinking games brought down its wrath on the boys and Charlie Murderpaws jumped on John Barrington’s head causing him to loose a round. It was a good night.

“They appear to be playing drinking games Ms. Bright.” said the agent tasked with watching Myles Endeavour

“Replacement Bus Service if I’m any judge” Replied the agent “One of them appears to have been attacked by a cat.”

“As you wish. Luminary be praised.”

Sandra Bright was ambivalent. On one hand they had seriously underestimated the intelligence Myles Endeavour possessed. No sane man with two brain cells to bang together would play Replacement Bus Service on a work night. On the other hand they had seriously underestimated how dangerous Myles endeavour was, No sane man with two brain cells to bang together would play Replacement Bus Service on a work night. she could not tell if this was disgust or respect she was feeling. No matter by the weekend everything would be over.