Ch.14
I headed home. My plan was damned simple. Play dumb. If the cops started questioning me seriously, I’d shut my damned mouth and ask for a lawyer if they insisted. My Lore: Local and, oddly, Nobility made me really knowledgeable about local law. It wouldn’t be as good as me having the Profession: Lawyer skill, but it should get the job done until I could get my hands on an actual lawyer if it looked like I needed one.
Lying’s great if the cops and the DA can’t prove you’re lying, otherwise, it’s best to just keep your mouth shut. Never self-snitch!
I did stop twice. The first time was to throw the shotguns and pistols into the deepest part of the river I could get them into, with them tied together by their trigger guards with a wire hanger looped through them a few times and pulled tight, then the ends twisted together. A 19 Strength made doing that insanely easy.
I probably should have left them where they were, but I took them out of reflex and paranoia. I’d wiped them down to get rid of my fingerprints, but I didn’t want any chance of them being tracked back to me, so the river seemed like a good option.
The second time was to buy a new cell phone, bought solely for its ability to live stream to the internet and I had it in my hand when I got out of the Blazer in front of my home, already streaming.
The video was for insurance and maybe intimidation. Cops are always on their very best behavior when being recorded.
There were several police units in front of my house, and it was covered in a bunch of ‘Police Line: Do Not Cross’ yellow tape.
The look from the cop when I got out wearing flip-flops, sweatpants, and a t-shirt was priceless. “Uh, excuse me, this is an active police investigation site. Do you live here?”
“I sure do, officer. What’s going on? Is everyone alright? Is my dog ok?” I asked. A heartbeat later, I heard Banner going berserk in one of the police cruisers. “Why is my dog locked inside a police cruiser?” I asked, my phone pointed right at the cop. “Oh, I am recording, by the way.”
The cop winced. “Is it really necessary to do that, sir? There was a shooting here and the inside of your home is riddled in bullets, spent shell casings, and a massive amount of blood. What we’re doing is simply standard procedure when a suspected homicide has taken place.”
“Oh. Shit! Have you heard from my roommate, Chris Drummond?” I asked.
I mean, I KNOW it's not Chris’ blood, but he’d definitely expect me to ask, so...
The officer nodded. “We have. We took his statement and he’s spending the night at a motel.”
I pretended to be relieved, and I genuinely was, at least a little. Chris was probably my oldest friend, at least of the ones I still hung around with. I’d introduced him to L&L in middle school, and we’d had many epic adventures together in worlds built around dice, loose leaf paper character sheets, and our imagination.
He’s totally gonna lose it when he finds out he can BECOME his favorite wizard character!
I think I succeeded in looking relieved, at least enough to fool the deputy. My Bluff and Diplomacy skills are both decently high, so I think I got away with it, too. “Well, we’re the only two who live here. I, quite obviously, am not riddled in bullet holes like anyone who had bled several gallons of blood should be, so it seems obvious it can’t be my blood, right? If Chris is also fine, and you have Banner, my dog, in that police cruiser, that means that someone else had to have gotten shot up, right?”
The cop didn’t look very happy, but in the normal world he lived in, one without character levels and supernatural healing powers, it was the only logical conclusion.
I also made sure that I didn’t lie to the officer. It seemed important not to for some reason. Must be the results of an 18 Int and a 20 Wis? I feel like I’m three steps ahead of him in the conversation when we’re talking. I can almost predict what he’s going to ask next and have a perfectly rational response already prepared... man, this feels WEIRD!
“Ok. How much longer are people going to be commandeering my house, first, and second, I want my dog out of that cruiser, like, yesterday. He has a leash next to the front door, and he’s very well-behaved for me.” I told the deputy sheriff.
A few minutes later, Banner was on his leash and an older man, wearing a black felt Stetson cowboy hat, blue jeans, a checkered button-down shirt, a navy-blue sports coat, with brown leather cowboy boots and a black bolo tie stepped out of my house.
He was fairly tall, if an inch or two shorter than me, and kept himself in good shape.
He had a semi-auto pistol in a hip holster, maybe a Glock from what I could see if it, and greying hair and beard. Despite his out-of-fashion clothing choices and grey hair, he walked with a good amount of spring in his step and an excited smile on his face.
He looked like someone had just given him a nice present for Christmas. He strode right up to me and introduced himself, putting his hand out to shake mine. “Hey there. You must be Ray Ramirez. I just got off the phone with an old jarhead named Kai Hale who I understand is your Karate Sensei? Oh, I’m Mark Sanderson, U.S. Marshal’s Service.”
I shook his hand and returned his smile. “Hah! Yeah, I’m Ray. You must be the old friend Kai told me about a few weeks ago when I had that little run in with Dimi Federov and his boys.”
Marshal Sanderson nodded. “Yup. Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more private than this, Ray?”
The deputy I’d been speaking with broke in. “Uh, I’m still questioning him, Marshal.”
Sanderson gave the poor deputy the same look you’d give a misbehaving eight-year-old, and the deputy wilted. “This is his home, son. No one’s missing, we have no body, no witnesses saying there WAS A body, just a bunch of blood, bullets, and empty shell casings. Hell, we don’t even know for sure if there IS a case here, right? It's not impossible this is all some elaborate prank! Even if it isn’t, you're messing with the man already by keeping him out of his home, son.”
The deputy just gave up, and I walked around the corner trailing Sanderson with Banner in tow.
I did have to spend a few minutes letting Banner sniff me and giving him pets to reassure him that his person was ok. Then Banner and I started walking after the Sheriff.
“Kai Hale had an interesting story for me, Ray. One I’d hardly be able to believe, except a couple of my men are at the warehouse where his grandson had been kidnapped, thoroughly beaten, and held against his will. Apparently, a goddamned grizzly bear got set loose in there after Jojo somehow magically freed himself. Also apparently, there are the corpses of approximately six Russian gangsters in there, and the place looks like a scene from a horror movie. I say approximately because it sounds like they’re having to piece some of the body back together from parts! Now, if you were me, Ray, what would you think about that?”
I shrugged as we continued walking and talking. “I’m not sure, to be honest, Marshal Sanderson. If the injuries are as bad as it sounds like they are, it probably couldn’t be done by a person; well, I guess maybe with a weapon. As far as Jojo goes, no idea? I only met Dimi and his goons briefly and none of them struck me as being the brightest bulbs in the pack. You know what I mean?”
The Marshal leaned in and sniffed at my hair suddenly. I had no real chance to do anything. “Ah, the smell of hydrogen peroxide in the morning. You smell like you took a bath in it... but I can still smell blood under it. That seems a bit too coincidental, don’t you think? Come on, kid, out with it.”
I thought about everything I knew and sighed. “Let me make a call, then I’ll talk to you.” I called Kai.
“Hello. Who is this?” Kai asked. It was a new phone number, after all.
“It's Ray, Sensei. I’m standing here talking to a man who claims to be your old friend, a guy named Mark Sanderson. I’m gonna put him on.” I handed the Marshal the phone.
They talked back and forth for a second, Mark nodded and then handed me the phone back. “Yup, that’s Sandy. He’s better than good people, he’s a brother. We saved each other’s lives more than once in Cambodia. I’d trust him with my life. You can, too.” I sighed, deflating a little, and hung up.
The Marshal was looking at me oddly, waiting to see what I would say.
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Fuck it. So much for no self-snitching. What are they gonna do about it, though? Whatever talks to me in the Dream, whatever sends me messages, said that I’m in the first wave of Awakeners. The obvious implication is that there are others in the first wave AND that there will be more waves! Not only that, but my gut, my intuition, is screaming bloody murder at me that this is the right thing to do. With a 20 Wisdom and a crazy high Sense Motive check, not listening to my hunches just seems silly!
-----------------
It took a few minutes of wandering in the forested area near Chris’ house for me to work up the courage to begin, even after making up my mind to come clean to the Marshal.
I sighed. “Do you carry a knife, Marshal Sanderson?”
He looked at me oddly. “I do. Why?”
“I’m about to make a series of damned extraordinary claims, Marshal. I want to give you some extraordinary proof before doing that.”
The Marshal pulled out a four-inch lock-blade clasp knife from his pants pocket and handed it to me.
I flipped it open, and after a moment for a Heal check to make sure I didn’t hit a bone or anything vital, I drove it through my left hand, forcefully.
I’ve gotta get through DR 4/-, after all. Banner went crazy. He smelled blood and DID NOT LIKE that it was mine. Again.
He moved forward to grab me; alarm written wide on his face. “Have you gone crazy son!? You're as nuts as that crazy jarhead Kai, ain’t ya?”
I groaned. Fuck, this HURTS. “Extraordinary proof, remember?” I managed to grunt out. A high Fortitude save only goes so far towards letting you deal with pain.
I bent down with my free, not-stabbed hand and gave Banner a few pets, calming him some.
I held up my hand so he could see the blade protruding. “Pull it out, Marshal. I want there to be ZERO room for you to think this is a trick or a hoax.”
Marshal Sanderson pulled his knife out. He was not at all squeamish and had both eyes open as he did so. I held my hand out for him to look at.
“Go ahead. Check, make sure it's not some weird, high-tech prosthetic or something. When you're done, say so.”
He did, he poked my hand with his knife a few times, even go so far as to stick in finger into the wound. That did NOT feel good.
Dammit old man, that fucking hurts!
Finally, he nodded. “Ok. You’ve proven to me that Ray Ramirez is one loco compadre. What next?”
I blew a point of Ki into Ki Regeneration. Ten points of healing closed the wound instantly. Even the blood dripping down my arm seemed to rewind back into the wound
The Marshal’s eyes got REALLY wide. “What the Hell?” He looked me in the eyes. “What in the Hell was that?!”
“Extraordinary proof, remember?” I told him.
He nodded at me; his eyes wide. “Shit, kid. I think I’m gonna need me a drink for this.”
“I’ve got a half bottle of Jack Daniels Black Label back at the house?” I told him.
He grinned. “Maybe later.” he said and pulled a hip flask out of his coat’s jacket pocket, then lit a cigarette.
He offered me the flask after taking a big pull. I took it and took a pull for myself. I wasn’t sure what it was, other than some kind of spiced rum and REALLY smooth. I handed it back.
Marshal Sanderson had been looking around the whole time, both of us felt like we were by ourselves, and in the green space we were in, with all the trees around us, it would be hard for a drone or a parabolic mic to do much.
“Ok, I won’t lie, Ray, that’s a neat trick. What in the heck was it?” the Marshal asked.
“About a month and a half ago I went to bed like I do every night. When I woke up, I wasn’t here; as in I wasn’t on Earth. It felt like I was in a super advanced sci-fi video game, or something. I was encouraged to make a character for The Game, after which I BECAME that character, and I started doing video game RPG stuff. A person I spoke to called me a Dreamer. Killing monsters, leveling up, even you should have some clue of what I’m talking about.”
He immediately became visibly cynical, at which point I held up my left hand. “I know, I know, it sounds crazy. That’s why I stabbed myself, Marshal. Just because I can take it and heal it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like Hell!”
The Marshal just nodded, thoughtfully, then gestured for me to continue.
“To shorten things, when I woke the next day, I was back on Earth, and I couldn’t remember any of it. Strangely, I now know that was the day I ran into Dimi and his boys messing with Jojo. I’m pretty sure the reason why I messed them up so easily was the video game levels and abilities. Video game me is, basically, a kung fu wizard. I can’t use what’s considered normal magic, but I can use a different kind of Energy called Qi and something called Pneuma, which is closely related to Qi but not the same. Honestly, I can chop trees down with my bare hands now. Easily.”
Marshal Sanderson was frowning; being smart, wise, and good at his job, started doing the math and was obviously getting answers he wasn’t sure he liked.
“Anyway, that all stayed the same for the past six or so weeks, until just after I got home from work this afternoon. I got a text message from Jojo’s cell phone with a picture of him beaten up and tied to a chair, a photo of the address of a warehouse, and a message ordering me to go to the warehouse and not tell anyone while warning me I was being watched. A minute later, there was a knock at the door. I answered it, completely focused on what I should do about the text about Jojo, not thinking anything at all of it.”
Sanderson grimaced, seeming to know what was coming next.
“I opened the door, and two of Dimi’s thugs who I’d beaten up that first day were standing there, both holding pump action shotguns pointed right at me. The moment the door opened; they opened fire.”
Sanderson grimaced, and looked like he was about to ask a question. I held up my hand again, the one I had stabbed then healed. “Wait, this is the good part. I DIED. They emptied both shotguns into me, then pulled their pistols and emptied them into me. That’s my blood in my house, Marshal. Every drop of it. A video game-style pop-up appeared asking me if I wanted to use an ability I have that would let me Cheat Death. I said yes, obviously. No, I’m not immortal or any bullshit like that. I can only use it one more time, but it's possible for me to get more uses.” I shrugged at him. Getting Hero Points wasn’t something you could really control, aside from the ones you got when you leveled up in your Primary class.
The Marshal looked like he was about to say something, then looked at my left hand again. I just smiled.
“It's a lot to take in. Believe me, I get it. I used my healing abilities to get myself back in the game and went after Jojo. Oh, wait, shit! I skipped the most important part. After I used Cheat Death, I got a message saying that I was now one of the first wave of Awakeners, and that I needed to be careful of the consequences of using my abilities... also it said something about there not being enough magical energy for external usage of supernatural powers. I guess that means no throwing Lightning Bolts and Fireballs, but purely internal stuff, like my Qi Regeneration I Just used to heal my hand, works just fine.”
I could see the Marshal’s skepticism was back, even as he worked though the consequences if it was true. “So, yer saying there’re already people who kin do the same kind of stuff ya can do, and that more are prolly coming?” The Marshal’s southern accent was starting to really show through.
I shrugged. “I’m just repeating to you the information that I have. You might be a Dreamer yourself, Marshal! I had no clue until after I was forced to use Cheat Death. It was what let me consciously use my new abilities here on Earth and remember my time as a Dreamer. I guess I had noticed some of the changes when I was training at the dojo. To say I had gotten better was a big damned understatement... but let me finish the rest of tonight’s grand adventure.”
Sanderson grinned for a moment and gestured to me to continue.
“Anyway, now knowing I had all those RPG skills and abilities, I figured that if I had to, fighting Russian gangsters would be a joke... and don’t worry, it was. I snuck in the back, got Jojo out but as I was about to get out, too, Dimi walked into the part of the warehouse where Jojo had been. I ambushed him, killing him with a single hit, then ambushed the rest of them when they ran in after him. It wasn’t much of a fight, really... even when they started trying to shoot me.”
I walked over to a tree with a low hanging branch, and gave it a good tug, then let him check it, too.
Then I chopped through it with a single blow. A four-inch-thick tree branch. One karate chop. Sheered though faster than a chainsaw could.
“What da Hell?” Sanderson said, almost sounding in awe.
“A combination of a lot of abilities that no character in L&L could ever manage to put together by 3rd level, which is what I am. The rules used in the Dream to make and improve characters let me cheat the System, basically, so I’ve been cheating damned hard. After today, I plan to cheat a lot damned harder, too!” I told him.
I explained the rest of the evening, and my examples of what I could do seemed to have the desired effect.
When I wrapped my story up with my return to my house, I paused and looked at him. “I bet you can figure out why I decided to tell you all of this, can’t you, U.S. Marshal Mark Sanderson?”
He nodded slowly; his eyes lost in thought. “Its purty obvious, there, son. You’re reporting a major issue to someone you hope can do somethin’ ‘bout it.”
I nodded. “Look, Dimi had just tried to kill me, for the second time in less than six weeks, so I figure I can make a pretty good go at a self-defense plea in any court in the land, and a decent lawyer will get me off on jury nullification if nothing else. Everyone knows who the Federovs are, and not many people are gonna feel bad about finding out that a half dozen of them got chopped into mincemeat in some warehouse after they kidnapped an eighteen-year-old kid and tortured him for a few hours as part of a real-estate grab.”
The Marshal chuckled. “Ok, you might have a point there, son.”
I nodded. “The point of all this is what’s coming next? Why did this happen so recently? The message when I became an Awakener made it sound like other people becoming Awakeners was part of the plan, maybe even the whole reason behind the Dreamers in the first place. Does the U.S. Marshals Service have a plan for people with magical superpowers? For armies of the undead in real life? For literal ninjas that can become invisible and walk right through walls? Summoned demons, angels, beings of law and chaos incarnate? I’m a living Legends and Labyrinths character, and all of this stuff is completely possible in L&L!”
The Marshal’s eyes got pretty wide. “That... well, shit. My grandkids have asked me to play that with them before. I never imagined it would become a part of my job!” he said, shaking his head and chuckling.
“Me, either Marshal. Me either. I worked my ass off to get a degree in Networking and Information Technology. I have a growing business that just took another huge step forward just before all of this shit with the Federovs began. Now, I’m apparently on the cutting edge of a new generation of magical Übermensch about to change the world? None of that, though, is the scariest part of all this, though.”
The Marshal cocked his head and squinted at me. “What’s the scariest part?”
“The scariest part is why is this happening, and why NOW? Is some deific entity or group preparing Earth for a disaster that only fantastical super men and women can fight? Is whatever’s behind this just bored, and wants to experiment and see what will happen? Is our world going to be turned into some kind of intergalactic or interdimensional game show for the entertainment of bored aliens? Something else entirely? Which one would be the worst?”
The Marshal sighed, suddenly looking like a tired, old man. “I don’t have answers for you, kid, but I can tell you this. There are gonna be a lot of people interested in talkin’ to ya, maybe in poking and prodding at you in the next days, weeks, and months. I'm not sure if this was a good idea, or not, but I can see your point. We need to get out ahead of this, right away. Are you willing to help out if somethin’ crazy comes up?”
I nodded. “I am. Now, let me ask you a purely hypothetical question, Marshal Sanderson.” He nodded. “Now then, hypothetically, what would happen if a bunch of Russian gangsters started showing up dead in the Portland Metro area, or the northwest in general?”
They did try to murder me in my own home, after all. Getting six of them isn’t anything close to enough of them! I’ll buy some rogue skills and Feats over the next few days, Computer skills too, and see how miserable I can make their lives. God, that’s gonna take days, maybe weeks! Oh, I can start researching mechanics and synergies ahead of time! Sweet!
The Marshal’s eyes narrowed. “Purely hypothetically? It would depend. As long as the only people hurt were purely members of a violent organized crime family, a lot of people in local law enforcement, the FBI, and the Marshals Service would probably stand around and cheer... but the gangsters always have bought and paid for politicians and DAs, probably even people in local and Federal law enforcement. Hypothetically, that kind of person could be trouble.” he told me with a glint in his eyes.
Good enough. At this point, I doubt they’ll leave me and Jojo alone, anyway. This has gone too damned far. I’m gonna need to either run and hide, or take out the Federovs... maybe both? Shit, I need to warn Chris. I don’t need to get him caught in the crossfire.
“What now, Marshal?” I asked him.
He snorted. “I have no goddamned idea. I probably should arrest you, but short of calling in the National Guard, I'm not sure that’s even possible... and frankly, it's hard for me to blame you for what you did. To have any real chance to apprehend you, I’d have to explain what you showed me tonight, and that’d be more likely to get me tossed into a padded cell than to get you arrested! I’m gonna try to get MY boss to come and meet you in the next couple days. I have no real idea how that will go, to be honest.”