Saturday, April 6th, 2069

“Our insurance isn’t going to take a hit on this,” Jagger Vance growled as he and a powerfully built giant of a man walked into a police trailer. All the surviving Miners, Gardeners, and Cleaners from his company sat around either on the sidewalk, curb or front lawn of the high school.

The Lynx Guild also formed its own group at the side parking lot of the building. They surrounded the police cars and even the trailer that Jagger had just entered.

“Want me to go see what they’re talking about?” Smegma asked, causing me to blink. I nodded after a moment and the flying goblin phased through a wall of the trailer a few moments later.

“Who was the man with Jagger?” I asked even as I turned to my father. I immediately could tell that he wasn’t in a place to talk. His face was pale, and his eyes were unfocused. I spun to my other side and found Willa looking green but definitely in a better place than my dad.

“That’s the Lynx Guild Leader—Taz,” she said simply, her voice sounding like she was faking a sick phone call. I could tell she wasn’t faking anything. That she wasn’t physically ill, but simultaneously had her stomach turned in knots.

I wondered if I should be feeling the shock or illness the two currently were. While I was ‘shocked’ by the sudden death of the Hunters, Banks, and Miners, I hadn’t exactly known any of them personally. I realized that I was trying to explain away how calm I felt, but already knew the reason. Mental Fortitude. Just like after Morgan Hallsbrad’s assault, and death.

Simply put it felt like months had gone by since the incident with the worm instead of a few hours. So, why was I making up other reasons for my lack of reaction?

Because I didn’t like the thought of a Skill messing with my mind—with my emotions.

Even now, Mental Fortitude was reining that feeling of discomfort in, calmly collecting my thoughts, and directing my mind to what Willa had just said. That was the ‘Tazmanian Devil’, the only known S-rank Hunter in the Windsor area. Thanks to that fact, it didn’t take my Skill long or much effort to redirect my attention.

“Wait—that’s him?” I asked in a whisper.

Willa blinked once, and then a couple more times, her eyes coming into focus. Her face, still a little green, gained back a shade of color. I could tell the distraction helped because a small smile grew in the corner of her mouth as she started talking.

“When they say he’s indestructible—they mean it! Gary and I saw him pull out a Fang from a Rakshasa, that had penetrated deeply into his chest. It had to have hit his heart or lungs, and Rakshasa poison literally melts your insides. However, Taz just kept going. He almost doesn’t seem human when he does stuff like that.”

Where her voice normally would have been excited, this time it came out somewhat flat—but picked up a bit more emotion as she continued. I turned to my father and saw that his face had regained some color and that his eyes were now focused on his hands.

I tried a follow-up, “Is it true that his armor also regenerates?”

“Not sure,” Willa said as she scratched her head. "The gear he wears into the Dungeons always looks the same—and there definitely would have been a massive hole or cuts in it that day. But that could also just mean he has multiple sets of the same armor. I’m inclined to believe the latter. Why would you need expensive armor if you can recover from almost anything?”

“That’s what they say online, that the armor being the same is him creating a narrative,” I said offhandedly. “Do you know what’s going on in there?” I asked as a follow up.

“They’re coming to an agreement on fault and liability,” my father growled. I was simultaneously startled to hear his voice so low and disgruntled, but also happy to hear him talking. “Once you enter a Dungeon, death is always a ‘personal’ liability. This is only the second time that workers and Hunters have died in the same incident…”

My father trailed off as his eyes started to lose focus again. I touched his shoulder which brought his attention back to me. “What happened last time?”

My dad took a stuttering breath in, and looked past me to Willa—I followed his gaze and saw her face morph into a sneer that clearly held disdain for the memory I was bringing up. My father’s whisper brought my attention back around to him the next moment, “Last time, they laid off half the company…”

I could tell that was all the conversation I was going to be able to get out of him, as his eyes began trying to drill through the police trailer and likely through Jagger inside. A turn to Willa found a similar reaction and so I let the conversation die, instead choosing to mentally ask Smegma, [What’s going on in there?]

He zoomed through a wall and came back to my side. “The Guild Leader guy is strong-arming Jagger Vance into taking more than fifty percent responsibility for this.”

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[What?] I mentally asked. Clearly the Sandworm hadn’t been the Miners' fault. It hadn’t been anyone’s ‘fault’.

“Yeah, according to that big oaf, the Miners were causing too many shockwaves which is what drew the Sandworm to the site. They also went ‘too deep’ and caused the Leech Kings to grow defensive. He’s claiming that if Jagger had older, more experienced Specialists this wouldn’t have happened.”

Both my hands came up to my head and I ran my fingers slowly through my hair—trying to push the words of Smegma out of my brain along with the sensation of my parting hair.

It didn’t work.

[How the husk can they get away with that?]

“Well, I’d have to go back in there to be sure, but it sounded like the ‘Tazmanian Devil,’—” Smegma said the name very derisively. “—was subtly threatening to never hire Jagger’s company again if he didn’t take the hit. Want me to go back and keep listening?”

I nodded again and watched the demon fly back into the trailer. It was about thirty more minutes of contemplative silence before Jagger Vance stormed out of the trailer. Since the first interruption I’d left Smegma in the trailer and the goblin-imp followed after the storm that was Jagger.

“Senior staff with me!” Jagger commanded without even looking at the group of his employees. Willa and my father looked at each other before they both got up and walked in the man’s wake.

My eyes followed them for a moment before I spun back to the trailer. I was just in time to see the back of Beastmode entering, even as Detective Flair exited. Our eyes met, and I groaned as recognition fluttered over his features. He started coming my way even as Smegma was beginning to redirect from following Jagger, in my direction. I mentally told him to stop, to keep listening even as I stood up to greet Flair.

“Brodie, what are you doing here?” Detective Flair asked, his tone sounding like a parent who found their child in a place they didn’t belong.

“I joined my father since I didn’t want to be at home alone all day,” I answered. I knew I was attempting to make the decision to work instead of taking time off, as ‘directed,’ somewhat more reasonable.

The detective’s eyes narrowed.

“So, let me get this straight. You believed that entering a Portal with your father would be better for your recovery than relaxing at home watching Webflick and surfing your Swiftgram?”

I held out my hands in a way to indicate everything that was going on around me. “It stopped me from thinking about it—until you just brought it up again. So, I would say it was working…”

“Right,” Detective Flair said with skepticism but a bit of a wince. “Still, with what I just heard in the command trailer; you seem relatively unbothered. So, what? Is this environment calming to you?”

“I was in the closest cavern the Mining group was working in. We vacated as soon as people started screaming and running by us. We weren’t ever in any danger.”

“No emotions for the people who died?” Detective Flair asked with a pointed look and a frown.

Did he expect me to be crying? I looked around me and found a few Miners doing exactly that. Maybe he did. I changed what I was going to say.

“Should I be an emotional wreck, like you?” I gestured toward the Detective’s unflappable expression. “I was certainly scared, and definitely shocked by the speed at which it all happened. I’ve only been here for about four days, though. Of the people who died, I think I only ever had a conversation with Sturdy Jeral. That alone should tell you how well I knew everyone. We lost one of Windsor’s heroes today, detective–one of my personal heroes. Of course, I feel like shit. I’m just trying to keep it together.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Flair said but his tone said those words were platitudes. “It looks to me that you’re doing a great job keeping it all together. Like a fifty-year veteran on the force. That’s commendable.”

His eyes flicked all over my face, looking for something. What? I couldn’t have said but assumed he was cataloging my expression or lack of reaction. What was his problem?

“Well, I better get back to the Chief and fill out the paperwork,” Flair said after he noticed I was studying him in turn. “Glad to see you’re back on your feet.” The last comment felt very off in sincerity. It made me feel like a criminal. Like he was saying, ‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you.’

As soon as he turned, I shivered. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong but the man’s scrutiny was making me very worried. Illusory Truth or not, it might be best to tell Ms. Stovall about my second Skill. My one worry there was what Rank that would currently make me…

“You know glaring at someone more powerful than you is kind of stupid right?” Smegma said from behind me. I’d felt him pop back to my side sometime in the middle of the conversation with Flair, and so he didn’t surprise me.

[Yeah,] I began, even as I immediately stopped staring after the retreating back of the Detective. [What do you make of that conversation?]

“What conversation? He was clearly trying to get a read on you. Or do you think it’s normal for people to push into sensitive topics like that?”

I thought back over the conversation and saw it in a new light. Other than the wince, Detective Flair had shown no reaction to my responses that clearly called him out on being a bit insensitive. However, did that mean Smegma was right? Was the man trying to feel me out?

[Maybe,] I admitted but countered. [He could just be trying to understand my choices.] Smegma fake-laughed and I gave him a truly withering stare. [Okay, that’s unnecessary.]

Thankfully my father and Willa both returned after that. To my surprise, Willa spoke to the whole crowd of Miners as she arrived. “We’re all heading into the office. Big meeting room. Meeting in forty-five minutes.”

The further paling of faces told me that whatever was going to happen back at the office wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“What’s going on?” I asked my dad. He just shook his head and then motioned with a tilted neck toward the Ford.

Together we walked to the Ford Escort, even as the other Miners made their way to their own.

“I came in with Brad,” one of the Miners said as he was sitting on the grass. He had been crying and after his statement, his face contorted into a mask of pain again. No tears came this time. Either because he was all cried out or because a new emotion was overwhelming him.

What that emotion was couldn’t be far from anger, if I was reading the reddening and contorting twitches of his face properly.

Willa went to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. In a consoling whisper, she said, “I’ll take you to the office and then home.”