NEAR THE SOD FARM. HIGH NOON.

Navigating to the sod farm, Non peered within one of the sixty meter radius grass hexes.

◊ CENTER PIVOT CROP IRRIGATION. A ROTATING SPRINKLER WITH A NINETY METER RANGE DELIVERING ABOUT 5-20 MM/HR.

Steering clear of the water jets, Non checked a prop, a puffball he’d filled with cream from a condiment jar Psykter picked up for his coffee. Feeling confident, Non trotted to the manor.

An elegant lady in a maid’s outfit greeted him with a pitcher of iced tea on a platter. His pop-up map updated as the servant walked towards him.

◊ MARY ELLEN PLEASANT. ON EARTH, THE FIRST SELF-MADE BLACK FEMALE MULTIMILLIONAIRE. SHE DRESSED AS A MAID TO DISGUISE HER STATUS AS THE BOSS. ON ICARUS, A CHIEF OPERATOR FOR THE QPQ UNDERGROUND RAILROAD.

“Are you here to buy some turf rolls?” Mary extended the pitcher of iced tea towards Non. Nestled next to the pitcher on the tray, a small compass sat – its needle obstinately pointing in the wrong direction. The tranquility of the moment, almost surreal against the potential of an imminent ambush, was accentuated by the meticulously manicured bushes and trees around them.

Non poured himself a glass of iced tea. His gaze momentarily lingered on the misdirected compass before he offered, “My online name is Nonagon.”

“Follow me in and tell me of anything you need.” Mary gestured towards the looming manor.

║ MESSAGE FROM MARY ELLEN PLEASANT. DETAILS OF THE FACTION HERE, WITH KNOWN LOCATIONS. MAP UPDATED.

“I just hope not to be a bother. By what name should I call you, ma’am?”

Non glanced at the compass again, his mind whirring. It was an odd detail, out of place.

Ñ̰ LOOK THEM UP. MARY HAS A WEIRD COMPASS. COULD THAT BE POINTING AT NEWS?

“Call me Mary. So many polite people today. Please raise your hands for these nervous people.” Mary swung open the door, revealing a burly man equipped with a shotgun, a helmet, and body armor. Behind him, a second figure in overalls menacingly wielded a gun, covering a third man in a suit.

Non sighed. He tossed his staff out in front of himself, then raised his arms.

The bearded man spoke jovially while aiming his shotgun. “Howdy! Stay there, please. Mary, could you get Non’s saddlebags? Careful, he’s a tricky one.”

║ THE BEARDED MAN WITH A SHOTGUN IS CAROTID, THE MEDIC MERCENARY.

“I have two boxes, one that I took from the chest of Claw Machine. But both are in secure locations.”

Ᵽ I’M AT POSITION 1. I’VE SUMMONED YOUR BADGE TO ME.

Mary searched the saddlebags, then pulled them off. She palmed Non’s gun.

The bearded man stepped closer. “How the heck did you beat Claw Machine?”

“Let me show you.” A billboard sized screen with Claw Machine’s feed appeared above Non. The video began with Non losing his disguise. Then, almost like a cartoon, the mecha got hit by an explosion, a ton of bricks, a boat, lightning, a church bell, a tornado and pews, machine gun fire, Non’s attacks, a falling elevator, a rocket, staff attacks, a falling building and more hard hits from Non. As the spectacle played out, he updated his list of screen blockers, readying himself for the strategic use of False Impression.

Ᵽ DISCUSSION OF A CAPTURE ORDER ON RADIO FEED. WE’RE ALL IN POSITION.

His video then showed the box removal from Claw Machine’s chest.

“That’s how I got it. But this is very irregular. If everyone could clear out of here, I can make the–”

An arrow sprouted in Non’s eye. As he screamed and reached up to it, whitish fluid spurted out through his fingers. Another arrow hit his chest. Red fluids gushed as he gripped at it and staggered left. Opaque screens went up in various locations.

“STAND DOWN! WHO SHOT THE TAUR?” yelled the bearded man.

A dozen snipers watched as Non fell on the new screens.

In actuality, Non had pressed a puffball filled with cream to his eye, then made an illusion of a fake arrow as white fluids gushed away from his eye. A packet of ketchup helped with the second illusory arrow. As a simulacra staggered and fell, the real Non shoved Mary behind brickwork and ran full tilt toward Tree #1 on his map. As the leader yelled an order to stand down, undisciplined snipers fired at Non’s prior location. Icosian rose up to swat Carotid’s shotgun.

Behind obscuring screens close to the house, Collie Ico picked up the shotgun and ran off with it.

An archer in Tree #1 watched as fake-screen-Non staggered and fell. A heavy ball dropped into her quiver and pulled her off balance as Non ran by. Roof-Sniper #1 leaned over the edge of the roof to get a better look, only to get knocked off by Icosian. Non jumped off the house to a thick tree branch, to his waiting staff, to his badge, to a brick house ornament and then onto the clay tiles of the roof. He smiled to a surprised Santa-like sniper. His badge dropped into chimney smoke to scan the home interior.

“I REPEAT, STAND DOWN! Where’d my shotgun go?”

Santa swung his rifle around, but Non pulled the M1 Carbine away and sent it down the chimney. Santa drew and fired a heavy caliber back-up pistol. Clay tiles shattered as the equitaur barely dropped in time. As recoil torqued the gun upwards, a hard pull on the man’s beard slammed him into the bricks.

Sniper #3, from the other end of the roof, tried to capitalize on Non’s momentary distraction. However, Picoid was ready. The woodpecker moved one end of a portal to #3’s trigger hand and the other end to the rifle muzzle. As Non sprinted across the roof, flinging Icosian like a spear at sniper #4, sniper #3 fired point blank through the portal, blasting his own hand.

As Non neutralized the final sniper, a peculiar sight caught his eye. The gun he had dropped down the chimney was now floating back up out of it. Before he could react, a new message arrived from Icosian.

║ THE BADGE STARTED THE SCAN, BUT GOT DEACTIVATED. I DON’T KNOW HOW.

Ñ̰ THERE’S A RIFLE FLOATING UP HERE. HOW? BLOCK WITH THE DIE!

The floating rifle turned to aim at Non, then fired. The d120 turned the bullet into shrapnel, some of which hit Non’s chest. Recoil from the fired round made the rifle spin erratically in the air, but it stabilized.

Ᵽ STOP STANDING THERE GETTING SHOT AT AND CONTINUE WITH THE PLAN. I’M AT TREE #2. YOU’RE CLEAR DOWN HERE.

Agreeing, Non leaped from the roof to a tree, back to the chimney, then thumped an archer behind the tree. He whirled his staff around him, then flung the spinning shaft towards two archers, a fox and a human. The staff missed them both, so he raised up his hands. As they aimed, the spinning Icosian hit the ground and bounced like a hoop a few times before coming back faster as a terrible black wheel, whacking down the human.

║ THE DIE JUST DEACTIVATED. MY PORTALS AND VECTORS STOPPED WORKING.

As the message from Icosian registered, the fox archer became a larger threat. Non put up a screen for cover as he dashed left, while his exposed mirror image darted left.

The fox archer, predictably, let loose an arrow at the false image, giving Non precious seconds to plan his next move. With a calculated leap, he aimed to intercept his staff, all the while keeping an eye on the fox archer and the floating rifle. Screens could distract the fox archer. BANG! The sting of a bullet grazed his side. Non grimaced, darting towards the steel security door leading to the kitchen. Locked.

Picoid landed on the floating carbine, his zygodactyl talons gripping the wooden stock as he flapped his wings to disorient the aim. Despite the rifle’s violent thrashing to shake him off, the woodpecker held with hardheaded tenacity. His sabotage began with a peck at the safety switch. The rifle responded, an unseen force flipping the safety back off. Next, Picoid moved to the mag-release button for the banana clip. It fell momentarily before rising back up, magnetically drawn and reinserting back into the carbine.

It was a strange, airborne tug-of-war. Picoid switched the safety, followed with a focused strike, and popped the clip again. This time, he hammered a sufficient dent into the mag-well area to prevent a reinsert. Still, he knew there was one round left in the chamber. With manic energy, Picoid hammered at the hammer assembly, disabling the M1 once and for all. The sounds of his pecking rang out, a frenzied staccato in the noontime air.

Behind his screens, Non had lost track of the fox’s position as Picoid fought the rifle. ‘What now?’

║ MAGNETAUR IS ON MARY’S LIST. NOT NEWS, MAGNETS. BROTHER OF SHETAURUS THE MINOTAUR.

The steel security door vibrated and disassembled itself. Hinges, screws and inner workings pulled apart, spiraling away from their set places. The chaotic ballet of metallic parts spun wildly before they settled, hovering in mid-air before the door opened unnaturally, towards the removed door handle.

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A swirling vortex of knives heralded the entrance of Magnetaur. The minotaur stomped out of the exit, a toolbox of wrenches and chisels clinging to his body. Non, from his perch on the other side of the door, observed the unhinged, metal-fringed bull look up at the airborne M1-woodpecker duel. Non reacted immediately, using his full equine strength to ram into the door and topple the minotaur. A frenzied fall of ferrous followed—knives, rifle and tools all clattered to the ground.

Ñ̰ DROP IT AND FLEE!

Magnetaur’s hand, giant and powerful, crushed the top of the steel door before lifting it, and himself, upright. Non had just enough time to leap clear of the door, which crashed back down with a clang.

Regaining his composure, the minotaur glared at Non, a glint of savage intelligence in his eyes. “Your audacity, equine, is not unappreciated, but your imminent decimation shall, regrettably, nullify any burgeoning respect I may have had for you.”

With Icosian clenched tight, Non decided his new tricks wouldn’t work on this iron-tethered menace. Old ones would have to do. He bolted, galloping away from the manor and into the giant hexes of sod.

Ñ̰ OBSERVE HIM. DETERMINE HIS LIMITS. THE RIFLE DIDN’T MOVE FAST.

At an anchored pump system, Non darted past a red wheelbarrow, its surface glazed with water. Behind him, Magnetaur surfed up and forward on the steel door, gaining speed but noticeably without the rest of his metallic arsenal. An idea flickered in Non’s mind. He studied the spike at the center of the hex.

◊ TRAVELING GUN. IRRIGATION SPRINKLER WITH A NINETY-METER RADIUS.

The pump system connected with lines that fed into the three hexes around it. The aptly named Traveling Gun linked to the pump via a sturdy hose. If Magnetaur lifted it, he would wrestle with the hose’s resistance. Quickly, Non geometered distances, mapping out safe areas with the hose as a safety tether.

The thunderous voice of Magnetaur echoed across the field. “You, four-legged defiler! You dared assist that cursed single-horned creature in my sister’s demise!” His words were twisted in a grotesque parody of sorrow and rage, the pronunciation exaggerated as if he was tasting each syllable with displeasure.

Non huffed, his gaze fixed on the minotaur as he found the local tempo. Magnetaur continued, his voice rising to a crescendo. “I demand you relinquish the items you were tasked to deliver here, right now! This instant...this microsecond...this...jiffy!”

Channeling his timing, the equine hurled Icosian at the minotaur. With a bored expression, Magnetaur attempted to flick it away—several times, in fact, before the non-ferrous weapon struck him, knocking him off the door. The minotaur crashed atop the wheelbarrow and the nearby pump handle. The door fell as the pump activated, turning on the water cannons.

Ñ̰ HERE?

Icosian appeared in his hand as the summoning worked. He had his tricks back! With a substitution matrix pattern, he twirled his staff about his body, planning how to grab up a traveling gun. He recalled a quote from the show Have Gun, Will Travel. “It’s the symbol of a chess knight. It’s an attack piece, the most versatile on the board. It can move eight different ways, over barriers, and always unexpected.”

Ᵽ DON’T GET DISTRACTED, AGENT PALADIN.

Magnetaur rose, the wheelbarrow under him now a grotesque mix of red from the minotaur’s blood and the previous watery glaze. The bull-man’s eyes seethed as he bellowed out his fury. “You’ll recompense for that transgression, equine miscreant!” He snatched up the misshapen wheelbarrow, reformed it to make a shield on his arm, then stomped towards the equitaur.

Non’s gaze slid over to the now rattling steel spike of the traveling gun, with a delivery rate of 40L per second, capable of arcing water to a 90M radius. Brass fittings suggested the hose would stay connected. With the projectile range formula, the square root of range times gravity gave a nozzle velocity of 30M per second. Would it toss him around like one of those water jet packs? Lifting his half ton frame needed five thousand Newtons, but the hose only produced twelve hundred.

Magnetaur wrenched the steel spike from the ground, then tried to maneuver it for a finishing blow. As expected, the water cannon and hose added restraint and torque for the wannabe torquey matador. Non stepped in and caught the traveling gun, keeping it aimed at the minotaur. Under the deluge, the magnetic control faltered.

“You ninnyhammer, this inundation shall not harry Magnetaur! I have this bulwark barrow. Are you enlightened as to her last contact with me? She'd boomeranged the cylindrical phonograph back to Murphy Roths Large and endeavored to facilitate the hospitium activities, but they ousted her to provender the splendor-horned murderer.”

Closing in, Non looped his feedbag around Icosian and the traveling gun. He twirled his staff, the movement detaching the hose from the brass fitting and allowing him to drop the spike out of range. Summoning his d120 die to the mouth of the hose, he transformed the water pressure into an erratic cone, targeting any unshielded areas on the minotaur.

Through the curtain of water, Non saw Magnetaur’s eyes narrow, his skill with the wheelbarrow water shield improving. The bull-man’s nostrils flared, sending sprays of water droplets outward. “You waterlogged whelp, your attempts are as ineffective as a spring rain!”

Non sidestepped a punch, his hooves finding grip on the wet sod. With a swift movement, he brought Icosian down in a strike towards the minotaur. The wheelbarrow deflected, an impact ringing out above the roar of the water. A sweeping return punch caused Non to lose the hose, wriggling out of his grip like a water-soaked serpent, adding to the growing deluge that transformed the sod beneath their feet into a sloshy marsh. The muddy terrain amplified the intensity of the punches, kicks and parries.

Unexpected slips, coupled with the chaotic dance of the rogue hose, caused Non to grin through a punch to the face. Amid the swamp, the bull depended so much on a wheelbarrow, the only ferrous item he could exploit. Without iron to draw upon, he was like a smith without his hammer.

Dancing on his hooves, Non followed a pivot with a swing upwards at one of the horns. He anticipated a deflection, then another chance for the minotaur to swipe with his shield. Instead, the staff hit home. A spark flashed, followed by the minotaur’s roar of anguish that cut through the rush of water. Magnetaur’s eyes rolled back, his bulky form crumpling. The horn, now bent at an odd angle, sparked like a damaged electric line. The knight had struck a weak spot and accidentally performed a smothered mate.

He quickly moved to shut off the pump. More water wouldn’t help. Then, straining with the effort, he lifted Magnetaur’s head out of the burgeoning marsh, ensuring the unconscious minotaur wouldn’t drown in the aftermath. As adrenaline wore off, his arm hurt more with each shock.

Ñ̰ ICOSIAN, THESE HORNS HAVE BATTERIES. CAN YOU DRAIN THEM BEFORE I GET ELECTROCUTED?

║ YES. LET ME STAY PARALLEL FOR TWO MINUTES. THE HORNS DETACH. WE’LL GET 72♇, OR 4♇ SHY OF A FULL CHARGE.

A few minutes later, Non had taken the bull by his horns, or something close.

Ᵽ MARY ELLEN PLEASANT REGAINED CONTROL. CAROTID TOLD HER THAT CLAW MACHINE’S FUMBLE OF THIS DELIVERY CAUSED SILVER SCREEN AND RUBICON TO GET INTO A BIDDING WAR.

Non looked over to see a heavily bruised minotaur, the sod farm foreman, lumbering to them. The foreman nodded at Non as he bent down to help with Magnetaur. “Mary wants you in the manor. I’ll take care of this guy. I strongly encourage you to give those horns to Mary. Eh, but first, see the guy in overalls for first aid, then send him my way.” Non, seeing no downside, agreed. Once patched, he sent a signal.

Ñ̰ ICO, BRING IT IN. ARIESTA, INVESTIGATE RUBICON. LIKELY SET UP BY LERNEA 5 AKA OCTAVIAN.

Ā̱ WILL DO SO. WE BOTH HELPED HER TO SET UP ACCOUNTS, SO I’LL SEE IF SHE USED THE SAME METHODS.

While heading back to the manor, the border collie joined him, carrying a plastic shopping bag. Non knelt down to pat Ico’s head, “Good boy,” he praised, taking the bag from the dog’s mouth.

Inside the manor, Mary accepted the detached horns and then the boxes from the bag, placing them on an ornate desk. With a strangely designed key, she unlocked and opened them. She meticulously examined each vial, her eyes sharp and focused. “No tampering. Damage to two of Claw’s vials.” She confirmed, closed and locked each box securely. “Thank you for these deliveries.”

Non watched as she slid two shiny coins across the desk to him - 50♇ and 20♇. More than he expected. “A bonus from Don Smiley for handling Carotid’s crew,” she added, sliding over another 50♇ coin, then his saddlebags and former contents. “Is your eye okay? Anything you need?”

Ᵽ MAYBE HESITATE AT TAKING A BONUS FROM DON SMILEY.

Ñ̰ I’M ALREADY HOOKED TO GRASSLEAF. MAKE SURE I REPORT IT.

After Non explained the eye trick, he learned the mercs “offered” to fight Cordyceps Formians for Mary.

‼ PRIVATE MESSAGE FROM DON SMILEY.

A much too-happy figure appeared on a private screen, a cross of a prehistoric smilodon and Veidt’s Gwynplaine, the inspiration for Batman’s Joker. The big cat, dressed in a tuxedo, smiled as if he owned the world. An impossible Escher cube sat atop the unusual desk.

[https://i.imgur.com/H4pxPjd.png]

“You’ve cleared up a bad situation,” said the tenor-voiced smilodon.

“Oh, it was nothing. I wasn’t expecting to see a whole...” The Don grew visibly annoyed with the mischaracterization, so Non restarted. “After the fight with Claw Machine, I reconnoitered this property and programmatically evaluated my options. When they signaled my capture, I enacted a counterplan.”

The Don stayed silent. Non kept a count-to-ten countenance, staring around at the Don’s room and desk. The wall had the surreal poster for the 1920’s horror movie The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, with a weird leaning lamp on the right, and odd plants with leaves like fingers on the sides. Invading the room was a genuine version of the same odd leaning lamp, with finger plants on the side.

Non returned his gaze to the amused smilodon. “Just doing a favor for my stepfather, sir.”

“Make sure he returns it.” A statue on the desk vanished, then the plants and the chair behind the Don. The bowtie vanished along with the carpet as the head and smile grew more ominous, sections of the scene disappearing until only the smilodon smile remained.

As Non began to feel somewhat relieved with the cessation of surrealism, the Cheshire grin flickered back to life on the screen, and the disembodied voice of Don Smiley echoed out again.

“Oh, and Agent Nyah?” The tone was casually jovial, yet with an edge that suggested a knife hidden behind a velvet cloth. “Keep in mind that favors, even those done for family, have their consequences.”

The smile flickered once, twice, and then disappeared, leaving Non staring at a blank screen.

Non made sure the screen was off before talking.

“He just Cheshire-catted me.”

“Who, the Don? He does that.” Mary lifted the tea platter. “Care for a fresh glass of tea?”

Non drank another glass. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not with me.” She looked around, then whispered. “Want to do the last leg? It’s to the Cecrops estate past Megalopolis.” She gestured to the boxes.

Ᵽ LET’S DO IT. THE STUPID THING. WE’LL GET A RESOLUTION WITHIN HOURS.

“I’ll do it.”

Ñ̰ THERE’S A JUNKYARD NEAR THE CECROPS NECROPOLIS. WE’LL NEED TO COORDINATE OUR RECONNAISSANCE.