Roy felt as if he was being smashed repeatedly with a sledgehammer, the force of the blows sending scraps of mana flying; soon he would be reduced to oblivion. But Roy reigned in his sense and pulled the entirety of himself back into the physical realm. No flower could defeat him; he was a mage of the 0th circle, a dabbler of the arcane.
This was no failure, this was success. The ring pushed back with something akin to a light push, just slightly stronger than what he had felt emanate from Tig. The fragment had vaporized his reserves, and now the flower struck with an unendurable force. If greater force meant greater mana, which sounded reasonable, than the flower was leagues ahead of the ring, and the crystal leagues ahead of the flower. The difference between the piece of sky and the metal dug from the ground was truly like the difference between heaven and earth!
Now that he knew he had a game breaking artifact Roy could... store it into his bag and try to keep it safe. Knowing something was powerful and making use of that power were two different things, it was like knowing the energy stored in an atom and actually tapping into it. He had barely mastered fire, how was he supposed to even grasp nuclear. On the bright side he could always sell it for some easy fantasy green.
Carefully, Roy stowed his goods away.
“I never knew flowers could have such an effect on men,” chimed a voice from behind. Quickly, Roy spun around, tucking his bag behind him like a criminal caught in the act.
Madelyn stood at the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the shelves that made up the wall. Her clothes were in the same state of disarray Lestrat had criticized earlier, though now Roy could make out the dress pants, leather belt, and oxfords that completed the formal attire.
“F-f-lowers?” Roy spouted, trying to sound casual despite the fear bubbling inside him. Would his goods be confiscated?
“Feigning innocence? The lecherous cast of your face as you scrutinized the flower was all to obvious I'm afraid,” her voice morphed into a high pitched whine as the sentence continued.
‘What? That’s disgusting!” Roy rebounded, his earlier fears forgotten.
“Ah, of course, a flower stays so, only if it stays pure,” she continued, tone and dress a mismatch, “You may find the most floral of flowers in yonder room.”
Saying so she pointed towards Lestrat’s office, her sleeve dangled from the end of her arm like some twisting tentacle. His initial panic now subsided; Roy stood and shouldered his backpack.
“We’re going to see Nolan right?” Roy righted the conversation, that was enough talk about flowers.
“Let’s go,” her tone flipped in an instant, soprano making way for a neutral, almost emotionless, drone.
Madelyn gave him a second to check over his belongings before the two stepped into the water, Roy’s soggy shoes instantly re-drenched. It appeared that he would never experience dry footwear ever again.
“Hey, Madelyn, how are Denton and Pyrene?” he had wanted to ask Lestrat, but he had been so caught up in the moment he had forgotten. There were so many other questions he wanted answered.
“Denton and Pyrene sitting on a tree...” Madelyn started in a sing song voice, before reverting back to the familiar monotone, “Idling around without reason or purpose.”
“What?” Roy recalled the two as being quite high spirited during the little time they interacted, “Why?”
“They were unable to adapt, similar to many other’s here,” she suggested, shrugging her shoulders, “Things will become apparent after you stay for a few days.”
“Oh,” if he looked at the past few days, there were times when he wanted to lay down and shut himself from the new reality, but necessity drove him from comfort. Here food and shelter seemed to be provided to anyone in need, there was no motivation for the residents to leave their comfort zone. He would have acted similarly, in fact why did he feel the compulsion to act now? He could easily find a nice corner to tuck himself into, leaving the heavy lifting to others.
“I don’t fault them for their inaction; we’re all broken in our own little ways, it’s simply more obvious now,” Madelyn continued, as the two reached the far right corner of the store. A door similar to the one outside Lestrat’s office greeted them, there was even a sign tacked the surface that read, “Task Force,” and then below it in bold capitals, “Authorized Personnel Only.”
That sounded fairly ominous, “Nolan’s little touch.”
Roy recoiled in shock as Madelyn pushed open the door without even a knock.
The inside of the room was lit by a single lightbulb; makeshift wiring connected it to a small hole in the wall some distance above the water. It was much brighter in the room than the rest of the store and it took a moment for Roy’s eyes to adjust. The room was large, it probably acted as storage space before it had been remodeled to house the ‘Task Force’. Only the center was elevated, but instead of the shelf base Roy had grown somewhat familiar with, this platform was composed of large black framed storage racks. This had the effect of elevating the plywood well above the water.
Several collapsible chairs and tables lay haphazardly around the platform; littered on the surfaces were an assortment of arms and armors, from thick barreled shotguns, to medievalesque longswords. The space that wasn’t covered was occupied by loose rounds of ammunition, packets of cigarettes, and ashtrays.
A man and a women lounged in the chairs, smoke wafted from the cigarette that hung from the man’s mouth. He had short graying hair and a face as flat as a stone slab, but just as solid and locked in a perpetual frown. The woman sat hunched over on a chair, fidgeteing with the various pieces on the table as if waiting for a call to action. Below the platform and partly obscured in shadow, a younger man stood in the water, waving around a wooden pole as if fighting off phantasms.
The second Roy and Madelyn entered, the three individuals raised their heads and scrutinized the guests for an instant, before returning to their prior activities. Only the older man kept his gaze steady.
“Knock!” he yelled in a heavy voice that almost seemed to carry a physical weight.
“Whoops?” Madelyn responded as she stepped onto the platform, Roy waited for a second before following, hesitant about approaching the clearly incensed man. Awaiting some form of retribution, he was surprised when the man seemed to move on, without giving the matter another thought.
“New guy?” the man barked, angry was clearly his default state.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“This gentleman is Nolan,” Madelyn explained as she took a seat in one of the chairs.
“Oh, uh, nice to meet you... Nolan. I’m Roy, Roy Stone,” Roy stuttered out, as he tried to stand straight, like the soldiers he saw in war movies.
“Sir!” a burst of sound nearly knocked hi off his feet with its suddenty and intensity. Roy took a moment to comprehend the meaning behind the word before it dawned on him.
“Uh, Yes Sir!” he finally managed to blurt out. The man’s face transformed as the corners of his mouth curled upwards.
“Madelyn, look at rookie Stone here! Why don't you fix your attitude and learn a thing or two from this young man,” Nolan stood and walked up to Roy, he pulled a patch from his pocket and slowly, meticulously, attached it to Roy’s shirt. It was a small metal pin that had been painted over. A large white star backed by blue now adorned the aluminum surface, “Welcome to the Task Force rookie!”
“And the rest of you, why don’t you introduce youselves!” Nolan ordered as he looked from the fidgeting woman to the young man.
The woman was the first to respond, her mop of blonde hair swung to the side as she jerked her head towards Roy’s direction, “Right, right, where are my manners, heh. They call me Lucy.”
“I’m in charge of well...” Lucy tapped her feet against the ground in an erratic pattern, “Scouting, yeah that sounds about right, but I do a lot else too. So really, work with you soon and good luck and all.”
She turned back to the table, curtain of hair drawing closed again. The labored breathing of the young man and the rattle of various items filled the room once again; the near silence persisted until Nolan’s voice tore through it like paper, “You too Liam!”
“It’s Mato old man,” the youth spoke, through gritted teeth, whether that was because of exertion, anger, or a mix, Roy couldn’t tell.
Nolan directed an incomprehensible grumble towards the youngster before turning back to Roy, “Kids an Indian, and wants to go back to his roots!”
“Indigenous, Aboriginal, Native American,” Madelyn hummed off to the side.
“I call them whatever I want!” Nolan’s veins emerged in all their splendor as he shouted at the interloper, “Besides these three slackers there’s Karl and Dan. The two are bothers and they're only a smidgen more man then the civvies loitering around.”
“Now Madelyn, show our newest member the ropes and get him equipped, we have a supply run and two evacuations planned for the afternoon!” with one final booming announcement, Nolan sat back down on his chair; an American flag was painted on the grey plastic surface.
“It would be a pleasure, sir,” she responded in a sickly sweet voice, the response elicited an irritated grunt from Nolan, “Shall we go Roy? I’ll explain as we tour the compound, it smells like burnt rat poison in here.”
The two descended from the platform, before leaving Roy recalled that he could examine the goblins, and Greyson had probably examined him during their brief meeting. So he did the same to the three individuals. Similar to the goblins, the screen only displayed their name as ‘Human’; a more interesting fact was their levels. Nolan was level 7 and the other two were both level 6.
Unlike Roy who had spent a while lazing around and who was not especially keen on fighting. These three had probably experienced quite a bit more combat, combined with the abundant amount of firearms in the room, which in Roy’s experience made stronger monsters easier to defeat, their higher level made sense.
Now that he thought about it, examining everyone he met was probably a good habit to get into. Not that he was planning to pick a fight; the number would give him a good gauge of how experienced the other was and how safe Roy was in their presence. It was likely that he had been examined by the three individuals in turn; it was probably the reason Nolan had accepted him so quickly. There was no reason to test him if a quick glance showed that he had an ounce of experience and at least the drive to fight.
He turned towards Madelyn and felt compelled to ask, “Hey, can I check your level and stuff...”
His question was met with an odd stare and her mouth began to form the crooked grin Roy had begun to associate with the girl, “Asking for permission is a respectable trait, but checking someone’s level is custom here, there’s no need to ask.”
Roy took the curious praise in step and checked her level; the number 12 instantly caught his attention. He almost missed Madelyn’s ongoing explanation.
“Generally, the non-combatants ignore the system; to them you’re inspecting meaningless numbers. To us level is vital for combat, outside of actually being familiar with them, level is the only simple way of determining how experienced and able an ally is,” she paused for a moment and stared at Roy, he was probably staring at bit too intently at the two digit number.
“Some, like Nolan and Greyson see levels as indicating prestige; they frequently compare how large their level is and how quickly they can increase it,” Madelyn finished her explanation and her eyes seemed to mimic the crescent her mouth had spread into.
Roy ignored the smile and whatever hidden meaning she was trying to convey, “Your level 12?”
“You’re tiny in comparison, Greyson is 10 and Owen is 9, four is definitely below average.”
“Level isn’t everything!” somehow the way she phrased it made it more insulting than it really was.
They had been walking down the aisles, passing by curtained doorways and occasionally the chatting resident. The ones located near the back gave them tired smile and kind waves, but as they near the front the attitude changed. Conversation paused and eyes followed them as they passed, their gaze only stayed on Roy for a brief moment, but they practically stuck to Madelyn. Their small aluminum pin seemed to attract an equal amount of unwholesome attention.
The front of the store was bright; he would have never though so had this been a few days ago, but now having spent hours in the dark, the weakened sunlight was refreshing. The dim bulb in the Task Force room was incomparable.
Roy could spot Greyson outside, lounged in a deck chair with a rifle close within reach on the table set up beside him. All before him was shrouded in mist and Roy almost felt scared for the man, it was just him and Owen on the roof against the impenetrable tide.
“There’s not much to say regarding the Task Force, it’s only been existent for three or four days. We get extra rations of food if we need it; in exchange we adventure outside for booty; supplies and slaves in laymen’s terms...”
“Slaves?” Roy exclaimed, was that why they had garnered some odd looks?
“Peace is their chain and ignorance the labor they bear!” the girl peaked at him from the corner of the eyes, as if expecting a reaction besides abject horror at the lows they had sunk to, then sighing she continued, ”I’m kidding, ok?”
If Roy had sweated he would be wiping away that sweat right now, the revelation that they had stooped to slavery in just a matter of days was horrifying at an existential level.
“We are tasked with ‘evacuations’, sometimes lone survivors find us and ask us to ferry their friends over,” they toured the front of the store, weaving in and out of the registers. About two dozen people stood or sat near qround the massive windows, bathing in the little light available. There were even children, their clothes more rags than clothes. They dashed through the water, sending up sprays which were met with exasperation from those unfortunate enough to be in their path.
One, two, three, kids dashed past Roy before the fourth stopped in front of Madelyn and delivered a kick to the shin that sent the unprepared girl tumbling into the water.
“That’s for taking all the food!” he jabbered before running off to rejoin his friends, who gawked at the unfortunate girl with evident amusement in their faces.
“Are you uh, alright?” he didn’t know what to think, the assailant was probably eight or nine, and slightly chubby.
“Kids these days,” Madelyn mused as she pulled herself up from the ground, water dripped from her wool suit in rivulets. The suit had been messy before, but now soggy and weighted down by water it sagged from where it hung behind her shoulders.
“Right,” Roy associated suits with business meetings and formal occasions, the circumstances just didn’t seem fitting for wearing one, especially with the abundance of things that could go wrong in the end of the world, naughty kids being one of many of course, “Why are you wearing a suit?”
“I’m dressed in mourning,” Madelyn informed as she tried to flush out some of the water.
“Mourning?” Roy murmured as he though back on the events that transpired in Madelyn’s house, the bloated body of her mother lying on the bed, a faint green tinge to her belly and the acrid smell in the air, “Oh.”
“Shouldn’t you, uh, wear the suit properly, like Lestrat said?” Roy hoped he wasn’t overstepping, this was a delicate matter as evidenced by her listless disposition after finding the body.
“I should shouldn’t I,” she mused, voice just above a whisper.
“Lestrat will be handing out meals soon, he tends to lose track of time while burried in his paperwork. I’ll fill you in on the rest of the details over lunch,” Madelyn switched gear in an instant, and began to saunter down the alleys. Roy hurried to follow her, he tried to ignore the stares from those near the front. It was upsetting being at the center of so much negative attention, like he was being pummeled mentally.