The pain was unbearable. John Marquis suffered more than he had ever suffered before in his largely successful life. He was physically fine, but taking his community-issue phone into his inventory space had left scorch marks all over his custom-tailored suit jacket.

“That was cashmere!”

Stuff that Trigger User armour nonsense, that was his real power suit. A suit a man could do business in… but no longer. He might as well be dressed like a tramp, but tragic losses aside John still had a job. It was the most important job he had ever had… although absolutely the worst paid.

“Myles… if you can hear me in there I’m sorry. I’ve been keeping secrets from you.”

Johns's hand whizzed through the air, tapping and manipulating an interface only he could see.

“My Trigger has an interesting history. Its particular idiosyncrasy of powering up with money is old. When it first appeared it was widely regarded as a joke, a pointless quirk that would take a small fortune to be of any value whatsoever.”

John manifested his Trigger, struck an overdramatic pose and activated.

“THE SCYTHE IS REMORSELESS”

Green smoke enveloped him, flowing faster and faster as his armour returned. The smoke burst away from the fully encased John Marquis. From a distance, there was no change, but if someone had been able to inspect up close, they would see the racing green of the Cash armour flecked with gold.

“I’ve just linked my Triggers operating system to my bank account, stocks, shares and investment portfolio” Said John Marquis.

The emaciated ghoulish Myles let out an unholy roar, open maw exposing the black void within. It charged with all the animal fury and hunger it could muster. This time it was no fist that stopped it short. It crashed headlong into a shining golden forcefield before dropping to the cold hard ground.

“Barrington wants what he calls boots on the ground. He wants more of us, all active, experienced and there to stop this vague threat he keeps alluding to. But that isn’t me Myles. I’m here for this exact situation.”

As Myles rose to his feet John Marquis launched forward in a sparkling dark green blur and body-checked him into a cookware shop. The revenant Myles crashed through the window, knocking pots pants and cutlery everywhere. He was very glad he would not be footing the bill for the property damage. Hohn was on him in a heartbeat, keeping him pinned to the shop floor. His Scythe was lethal, therefore a final measure. His hand found the handle of a heavy iron pan. This would be perfect.

The revenant Myles began another roar as it struggled to throw off its assailant, but was stilled and silenced by the impact of cast iron on the back of its head. John proceeded to bash the out-of-control Myles. His friend would be in terrible shape, this form was a survival mode that lay deep within the Trigger, depleted of fuel and a badly injured host it treated everything and everyone as an enemy. This was one of the reasons Trigger users were not often given a seat at the table.

John did not know if his power boost would be permanent so he made the most of it by working quickly. Myles struggled the whole time trying to rise, but the combined power of capitalism and blunt force trauma held firm.

Finally, between swings of black seasoned iron, the Trigger retracted.

“John what the fu” Began a croaky confused Myles

SMACK! The pan hit Myles in the face.

“oops” Said John Marquis, checking around for witnesses.

He had not meant to knock Myles out cold after what must have been a horrific ordeal.

“JOHN WHY DID YOU” An injured Myles started shouting

SMACK! It was fine. He probably wouldn’t remember what with the other crippling injuries.

“That really hurt!

SMACK! John waited… then waited a bit more. Myles was finally unconscious. We will just never talk about this he thought, tossing the heavy cookware away, forever tainted by its crimes of GBH.

Gathering up some of the miscellaneous Fae bits still scattered around in case Myles needed a top-up later, he held them under one arm, threw Myles over his other shoulder and headed back to the Endeavour household. A limp Myles flopped behind him.

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“… And that was when I found him all creepy and angry. So I performed some impressive rescue combat to subdue him and brought him back home to help keep his berserker rage a secret like Barrington told me” Said John Marquis proudly.

John Barrington stood with hand over face muttering inaudible curses. Zara seethed quietly. Rusty and Debs seemed pensive, although one was still eating jam and a big ball of fur had plonked itself over Myles’ legs and was refusing to move. Myles had been laid out on the sofa of his increasingly hard-to-keep-tidy living room.

One member of the assorted houseguests was checking Myles over for injuries.

“And you did this entirely alone?” asked Dr Singh, shining a light into the eyes of the unconscious Myles.

“Absolutely. I was alone, powered up and took down Myles’ super-powered evil side to keep it secret… John, why are you head-butting that wall?”

“Myles is exhibiting the regular signs of a Trigger starvation mode, dehydration, slight malnutrition… it looks like Mr Marquis knocked him back to normal in a decently short amount of time.” Said Dr Singh

“I wasn’t a manager for no reason Dr Singh. John Marquis gets things done, even when alone.”

“One thing I can’t puzzle out is the injuries to the face, it looks like he has been hit with something flat and heavy after the suit dematerialised.” Said Dr Singh

“There was a man.” Said John Maquis.

“A Man?” Asked Zara, her raised eyebrow speaking volumes. “I thought you were alone?”

“A man with a pan” Said John Marquis.

“What was his plan?” Asked Dr Singh.

“Did he escape in a van?” Asked Rusty.

“No, the man took the pan and he ran!” said John Marquis.

“Stop dicking about, I’m starving and my face hurts.” Said a groggy Myles.

“We have flan.” Said Zara.

“I hate all of you!” said Myles “…and there was no man, it was just John bashing my face in with a big bloody frying pan”

“We all knew that Myles, John has the subtlety of a fat bald football supporter after several lagers.” Said John Barrington. He was giving John Marquis a dirty look.

“I’m positive there was a man.” Said John Marquis, doubling down as only a middle manager could.

“Was he a big scary black man wearing money-powered death armour?” Asked Myles.

“I placed the fiend as a Luxembourger young Myles. Vicious bastards. Said John Marquis who was in too deep and could only power through.

“You know I’m obligated to report this now” Said Debs “A starvation incident this early is generally a bad sign for advancement later on.”

“Could someone get me a sandwich?” Asked Myles.

“Exactly what the council wanted.” Said Dr Singh. “Entrapment aside, I’m more interested in why Barrington had Marquis on secret babysitting duty.”

“I’d settle for a bag of crisps!” Said Myles.

“I trust Myles, he is a mostly good man and it is easier to teach a good man combat than it is to teach some bloodthirsty warrior to be good…” Began John Barrington

“Ha! I’ve seen the results of your teaching, you are in no position to be making that kind of judgement call” Said Zara.

“Food please!” Said an increasingly indignant Myles.

“…Myles bonded to one hell of an outlier Trigger, one I suspect is an Ur type. Not to mention my other suspicions but that is getting into tin foil hat territory. So I recruited someone with a vested interest in keeping Myles safe… and as far away from the community radar as possible… Thanks, John” Said John Barrington who gave the other John a big thumbs up.

“I’ve found some old Twiglets down the back of this sofa! I’ve bought time to find me actual food” Said Myles.

“I hate Twiglets, they used to make my ex violent.” Said Zara. “If I make you a Sandwich will you be quiet and let us talk about you?”

“Agreed! But only because my current bargaining position is pathetic. I feel like my insides are trying to digest themselves” Said Myles.

“They are… We probably should have gotten you something already” Said Dr Singh. “But in my defence, I did want to observe you for the data so it all worked out quite well.”

“How do you keep getting chosen… what is it, like six times now by that sentient Universe of yours?” Asked John Barrington.

“Five, but probably six soon. I’ve got a feeling in my bones and I’m a colossal force for good in the world!” Said Dr Singh.

“I think it picks Maya to keep her doing something other than experiments.” Said Rusty.

“Remember when it was just us Charlie?” Said Myles

Charlie Murderpaws let out a snort or possibly a fart and went back to sleep.

“In all seriousness Myles, the council will be pleased about the starvation incident, but blowing the arm off an eldritch abomination… that invites closer inspection” Said Debs

“I’m so glad my nearly dying again was able to reinforce the narrative about a group I had no choice in joining.” Said Myles “ But didn’t my enthusiastic logging campaign not do that already?”

“I took credit for that” Said John Barrington. “Like I said, keeping you off their radar was important. Do you think I’d do you wrong?”

“Did you not wonder why Barrington gave you and Marquis a big bag of Money?” Asked Rusty. “it was the bonus for taking out something that had been on the kill list for so long.”

“Money?” Said John Marquis, suddenly very interested.

“John, what do they mean by that?’ Asked Myles looking towards his newly returned mentor and finding only a well-tailored gap in the scenery.

Zara reentered the room with a sandwich that appeared to contain an inch thickness of ham, handing it to a hungry Myles.

“What did I miss? Asked Zara.

“Myles didn’t get paid for sucking off that big wood.” Said Dr Singh.

“I find that hard to swallow.” Said Zara.

Myles took an angry bite of his ham sandwich. After the day so far he needed to feel back in control and the day he couldn’t assert dominance over a ham sandwich was the day Satan needed his boiler repaired.

His attention span was an overtaxed shambles no amount of ham would remedy. Thus most of the remaining conversation went over his head. John Marquis raised concerns over Myles’ racially charged language and how the term scary black man was inappropriate for contemporary discourse. Myles countered that John was black and that anyone who got an erection over quarterly financial reports needed to be on a watch list of some kind. Debs further explained about council politics and Dr Singh disappeared for a while but helpfully explained she was ‘just looking through your stuff’ with air quotes. When the door slammed shut Myles let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding, he had a lot to process and it was barely afternoon. Monsters were real. He had superpowers. His town had been trapped in some sort of dimensional embuggerance. But somehow office politics was still something he had to be concerned about.

Getting off the sofa… Myles failed to get off the sofa.

“Charlie move your big arse off me please!” Said Myles giving the massive cat a push.

Rising from the sofa, limbs stiff and a bit shaky Myles brushed orange cat hair off his legs. He wondered if the industrial hoover he needed would hurt his bank balance too much. As it turned out, ruminating on personal banking was anathema to his perception because the appearance of Zara in the Living room doorway scared the shit out of him.

Zara helped Myles back off the floor.

“Myles, we need to talk” Said Zara.