Part 2: The Team

Chapter 36: Poolside Negotiations

I hear a knocking at the door but I ignore it for obvious reasons. The knocking repeats a few seconds later.

Mercy Mahar takes a deep breath and then calls out, “come back in ten...” I increase the pace of what I'm doing to her. “Five minutes,” she says. I'm... Giving Mercy a back massage. Yeah, that's all.

“I'll wait outside.” I know that authoritative yet annoyed voice. But I'm not stopping, so she can wait.

Five minutes and a hasty shower later I open the door of my garage apartment and step onto the back yard lawn. I'm wearing an American flag swimsuit.

It's a beautiful, sunny day in Carrollton, Texas. The lawn is green, the pool is clean and my girlfriend is in the shower. It's been three days since the system incident. We've barely left my room and I haven't kept up with the news. So I'm a bit surprised that Staff Sergeant Davis is here to see me.

“Corporal Han.” She stands up straight, like the officer she is. She's got two men in business suits with her. Not military. Definitely government.

“That's me,” I say, not saluting. I'm not enlisted anymore. I respect Davis but I want to make clear that I'm not interested in coming back. “And I'm not interested in whatever it is that you want me to do.”

“Your country needs you.” Davis says this in the way that the recruitment officers do. In a way that indicates that they have to say that before telling you the real reasons you should join.

“Well, gosh, I'm flattered, but could you find another Korean with a drawer full of medals? I'm sure there's at least a few of us.” And with that I dive into the pool.

I come up for air a few seconds later and one of the suits says “Get! is offering 3 million dollars.”

I spit out water and immediately get out of the pool.

The Amarillo homestead is a 5 bedroom, two story affair. Light tan brick walls are complemented by navy and white woodwork. While the house is big, the lot isn't, so there's not much lawn out front and barely any out back. The pool in the backyard is shaped like a lima bean and has blue and white tiling. The patio is a wooden deck that Jose and I put together last summer. We're both pretty proud of it.

The apartment where I live is above the two car garage. Nobody parks in there and right now. It's mostly used for Ernesto's drum kit and Jose's 97 inch LG OLED 4K TV because Amy doesn't want it in the house. We're already turning the garage into a man cave. My abode above is basically a studio apartment. I've got a kitchenette, bathroom and a decent closet. All for the low, low price of $500 a month.

We are now all seated at the umbrella table next to the pool. Mercy is sitting next to me. One of the suits has to pull up a lounge chair and is sitting about a foot lower than the rest of us. I'll call him shorty.

“So three million, and all I gotta do is clear the dungeon?” I ask, going over the contract.

“That's the short version,” Davis, now Colonel Davis says. “We, the government, have a few other stipulations. For starters we need you to shut down your blog.”

“No way,” I say quickly. “I've been writing Multiclassing For Fun And Profit for years now. It's a valuable resource for gamers.”

Davis raises an eyebrow at me. “Well, at least remove the Dracosys information.”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Dracosys?” Mercy asks.

Tall suit says, “we have acquired the name of the system. It's called Dracosys. D.R.A.C.O.SYS. An acronym. Dungeon Ruin Arena Castle Ordination System.”

Shorty adds, “right now you seem to be the only one with the Synergist class, or at least the only one dumb enough to post what you're learning.”

I've very recently switched my blog from focusing on tabletop and video games to the real world class system. I am proud to say that my readership is up 14,000% in the last few days. The original 150 or so readers still follow me except for xxxGoku420baby, who says I'm a sell out.

I've been posting what I've learned about the class system. My Synergist class apparently gives me access to a TON of information that others don't have. Most people apparently get one of the six starting, 1st Step classes, each of which evolves into six related 2nd Step classes. Most people only ever choose what class they want twice, and apparently they don't get subclass information like I can. So I've been contributing to the global knowledge base by posting run downs of one or two classes a day. You know, between spending time with my girlfriend.

“Why is it such a big deal?” Mercy asks. “It's just for a bunch of geeks who want to become heroes.” I make a face like I'm horribly hurt by her words.

“No, actually most of your recent views are state actors from other countries and individuals looking to capitalize on and monopolize this new power structure.” Shorty says this with his nasally voice and produces a document listing the various groups and countries interested in my blog. “Bad actors are already abusing the Dracosys, forcing people to go in and fight so they either die or become stronger.”

“So, wait,” I say, gesturing that I'm kind of incredulous. “Terrorists are using dungeons as their new training camps?”

“Precisely. Corrupt officials, warlords and terrorists are going to use these places to gain magic and power.” Davis says it with authority and weight. She knows about how my Mom died in 9/11. She knows that's why I joined up. To fight fucking terrorists.

Mercy Mahar, my girlfriend, reaches out and takes my hand. She knows too. I told her while we were not dating a few months ago. Her dyed white hair sparkles in the sun and distracts me for a moment and I definitely wasn't staring at her DD cup size boobs. Or her thick, smooth thighs... She's wearing a purple two piece swimsuit so this is not my fault.

I snap back to the people wearing clothes. “Okay, so I can delete those posts and stop that end of my blog. Huh, maybe xxxGoku420baby will come back then.”

The suits look across the table at each other trying to decipher that. Davis just shakes her head, knowing to dismiss anything I say that sounds remotely geek related.

“That's a start,” Davis continues. “But the main reason we're here is your future role in the government.”

The suit in the regular chair talks business with his Kennedy-esque voice. “We'd like to hire you as an outside contractor to conduct both training and investigations for us. All Dracosys related, of course.” He slides over a paper with an expected compensation package listed. “This first task is being funded by the Get! corporation, so this amount is just to start.” He points to the aforementioned three million dollars. “This is what you'd be paid monthly.”

The three million is very, very nice. But the monthly salary is close to 300k. “Bajebus, what the hell do you want me to do for this much money?”

Mercy glances at the numbers and says, “although he's going to do it, whatever it is.”

We hear car doors close and footsteps approach. Jose rounds the corner. He's wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt and tan shorts. His kids Ernesto, Sara and Mike rush ahead and tackle me shouting “Uncle Jun!” They're all in their school uniforms, Jose having just picked them up from school.

Sara says, “we thought she ate you.” Sara glowers at Mercy, my girlfriend, in the way that only a suspicious 7 year old can.

“I bet she did eat him,” says Ernesto. His thirteen year old innuendo gets him a light flick on the back of his head from Jose.

Mike, the 5 year old, is grabbing my arm and looking at Colonel Davis. He says, “I know you, you the gun lady in the photo.” Jose has a framed photo of Coyote squad on the wall in the living room. It was taken before R-32. We were all holding our weapons like action movie stars.

Finally Amy steps out of the SUV and I hear the two men in suits inhale sharply. Amy Amarillo is one of those tall, stunningly beautiful, slender blondes who tend to appear in lawyer TV shows. She's even wearing a gray blazer and pencil skirt. The two men are understandably shocked by seeing a celebrity quality beauty in person.

She's not my type, so I'm immune. Too skinny.

“Well, it seems like my lawyer is here to hash out all these details,” I say, waving towards Amy. One of the suits raises an eyebrow at me.

I respond with, “no, really, she's a lawyer.”