Three nuclear bombs go off shortly after we escape Afghanistan. Each in a densely populated but strategically unimportant location. Kazan, Russia. Chicago, United States. Abha, Saudi Arabia. The death toll is in the millions and the Ambrose Society goes from a rumor to a global threat overnight.
Nobody knows how many agents they have, or how many bombs they have left. It could be one, it could be thirty. A new, globe-unifying threat, except one that instills fear between neighbors and friends. True terrorism.
The Pathbreakers return home, wounded and mostly alive. I have to deliver the news to Franco's mom, who lives in a trailer park in Oklahoma. She seems to be an alcoholic chain smoker. I have to phone his brothers to tell them because they're both in jail and I immediately understand that Franco escaped this hole. He bettered himself and wasn't like his family. He wasn't the sharpest, but he was hard working and honorable, unlike the people who raised him. So I end up missing the guy more after that. It feels like it would have taken a while, but we would have gotten along alright.
The bombs shake the world order and suddenly Interpol and the UN are deemed important again. Nobody else can legitimately track the Ambrose Society, and people are demanding as much information as possible be out in the open. Turns out some people (the US, China, England and Russia) in the world knew about the bombs and that information got out and now the general population is maaaaad.
We have to take the next day to give the government our nuclear bombs, which is genuinely nerve wracking. We do it inside of Cheyenne Mountain though, and we get a brief tour of the old command center. I ask to see the stargate and get shown to a broom closet with a crayon drawing of the sci-fi prop taped to the wall.
I find myself wanting to get out there and close dungeons more and more. We start knocking out small dungeons that are real problems for the locals. We tackle a dungeon in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, the JFK ruin in downtown Dallas and another ruin in North Dakota. All within a week of us returning from Afghanistan.
At the end of the week I make sure we get time off and I organize a company outing to the Free Play Arcade in Arlington. We all enjoy some local craft beers, share nachos and sliders and play way too much Street Fighter II. The whole Pathbreakers crew is there, except for the security team. (I give them gift cards instead.) Phoenix Team regails us with the epic tale of the four days it took to shut down the Grand Canyon ruin. I give a rousing speech that is only good when you've had a few beers. Brian, our newest hire, shows us the new website design and it is indeed better than the old one. I'm still not sure why being Gay makes him good at websites, but I can't argue the point.
We laugh. We slap each other on the back. We find a karaoke place and make fools of ourselves. We laugh some more.
This. This is what I want to keep. I realize that for all the guns and ammo and operations, the Pathbreakers are not military. We're something else. We're part nerd club, part wizardry school, part ninjas, part SWAT, and partly just friends and colleagues. And fuck if that doesn't feel like home to me.
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But there's still danger out there. Still dungeons to break, still ruins to sweep. And we haven't even tried out an arena. Still need to check out one of those. Maybe the former Fenway Park arena.
It's getting late and everyone but Mercy, Jose, Madeline and Quins have gone home. The karaoke shop is trying to close up and the attendant is politely asking if we're through.
“We're not through, not by a long shot,” I tell her. “The Pathbreakers are just getting started. There's a raid boss in three weeks, Ambrose jerks to root out, and those conversation logs to decipher and look through. Also my brother, I still gotta confront him, probably. So, no, we're not done.”
“I meant with the room, sir?”
I drunkenly narrow my eyes at her suspiciously. “Why? You got a secret Ambrose meeting here later?”
“No, sir, it's 1 AM and I want to go home.”
“I'm sorry about my friend,”Jose says, handing her a generous tip. “I'll take these idiots home.” He's my designated driver. And he's really good at not drinking.
“Well, I for one am shocked that I can get New Castle ale in America,” Quins says, holding up his empty bottle. “Who knew flippin’ Dallas was so invested in good ales?”
“Oh, don't get Jun started on IPAs though,” Mercy warns him. “He really, really hates them.”
“THEY TASTE LIKE LAWN CLIPPINGS!” I correctly inform everyone.
Jose drags us all to his SUV and slides us into seats. He flicks on the radio and the overnight BBC news is on.
An overly posh man reads the news. “A man named Hubert Sink, American, is the first to be indicted for causing the Dracosys disaster. His company, Rero Pharmaceuticals was revealed to have created the SIVID-1 virus with the intent of vaccinating the public against harmful effects of the Dracosys. No word on the exact details yet, but Mr Sink is said to be extremely dangerous and is currently on the run from American authorities.”
“Wow,” I say. “That must be Spear Saint, right?”
Jose drives forward. “Yeah, and anyone hiding him is going to be arrested as well.”
I'm drunk but can still tell when I'm being poked at. “Yeah, only if they knew for sure.”
“Just talk to him, Jun.”
I know he's right. I know that I could spend another week fighting and closing dungeons before facing him. But I also know that could cost lives. And I'm now sworn to save lives. That's what the Pathbreakers are about. That's what I'm about.
“Okay, but it'll be in person, and I want a team with me in case things go south.”
Mercy Mahar is next to me in the back seat, and squeezes my hand. She'll be with me.
“Right, but I'll take a real sniper's nest this time, mate,” Quins pokes my shoulder from his 3rd row seat.
“I can take a day off Phoenix team and let Henry get command experience,” Madeline says from the front seat.
Jose doesn't have to say anything. I know he's in. “Alright, then,” I say to my friends. “Tomorrow... Tomorrow we go fight my brother.”