On the way to the Memorial’s ruins they were accosted by some unremarkable reserve members. The type who would go religiously to initiations, but never dare to do anything riskier than watch.

“Where ya going? Where ya going?” They cried, following along at a distance like beasts hoping for scraps. “Are you going over to where that big crash happened? Can we come, can we come?” They were desperate for any chance to prove themselves. A simple demonstration of 31’s Remark, a throwing weapon that always found it’s way back to her hand, sent them running.

“The locals here, I swear,” said 31 as they disappeared in her Remark’s reflection. 29 and Devon, not particularly close, shared a look.

“You’re from here, Lemsk,” 29 said. She didn’t know he knew her name.

She dismissed this with a wave of her sequined gloved hand. “Don’t use my name in front of the hostage, Trav.”

Devon sighed. “I’m not a hostage.” 29 took her by the hand.

“You’re here by force, my friend. What else could we call you?” 31 leaned down so that she was looking the smaller girl straight in the eyes. “Would you prefer that to being bait?”

Devon didn’t respond.

They were close enough to stake out the collapse. Being this close to the wall of the ravine that circled Gutworth (a ravine she often thought, usually on the precipice of dreaming, was not unlike a hollow Drum) was overwhelming. Rubble was concentrated in a tight, lumpy pile at the Drums base. Of course the Memorial of Concession was unrecognizable, hundreds of manhours consolidated in that little pile. Where it once was was now a massive gash that revealed the Drums innards. She could see bits and pieces of the massive aqueduct, functioning as a skeleton, and beyond and within it was detritus she could not identify, packing the space completely. To hazard a guess they looked like balls of lint grilled and then frozen. It made her feel funny, so she focused on the safe and easy to comprehend debris below.

31 balled up a fist and placed it in front of her face. From this distance it was the same size and shape as the rubble, and covered it in such a way that it seemed her fist had punched the hole at the heart of the cliff face. She opened her hand and mimed grabbing the rubble and squeezing it tightly.

Of course, all she was grasping was air.

Her veins squirmed, atop her fist a message emerged.

“41 Is Dead. Whoever brings us Adam Kadmon alive will earn their spot.”

Just what she was hoping for. She steadied herself so as not to convulse with joy at how well things were turning (not that it was surprising that she, a good person, was being rewarded with good things.)

Now all they had to worry about was making sure the poor bastard didn’t die in the fall. Wouldn’t that be anti-climatic.

She snapped her fingers briskly and jogged over to the rubble. She went slowly but confidently, not reflecting the sheer fear she felt in her heart. For Devon’s benefit she showed off the vigor being a Number gave you. It gave you the strength to do so many things, like starting your own business, or hoisting up rocks and chucking back dirt like there was no tomorrow.

“Am I just supposed to keep lookout?” The wet rag of a hostage said.

“That’s exactly it, yes!” 31 said, tossing rubble away like she was a mail clerk shifting through dead letters (a job she once had and never would again). “You keep the heat off, and warn us if anyone else tries to-“ she turned to 29. “-Muscle in,” they said in unison. A private joke between the two of them. Number humor, the punchline being about a dock boy whose neck was broken when he stuck it where it didn’t belong. Devon wouldn’t get it.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Resy.” 29 yelled at Devon. She was frowning at the moment, but the command was justified. After all, she could be smiling in the future.

He turned to 31, his hands absentmindedly going through a phalanx of broken tiles. “Lemsk, what was that all about? You know, saying you weren’t from here and all.”

That wasn’t a name that meant anything to her, even if it was hers by right. “I told you not to call me that.” It brought back what she called her inadequate memories. In a just world she could have traded them for those more suited to her status. No more of these weird out of character snapshots of her huddled underneath a soggy awning, crying in dark alleys, and trying to open doors that would remain forever locked. How was such a past for a number like her possible? Give them over to someone like Devon, who was far more suited to feeling nostalgic whenever a child burst into tears.

29 leaned in, looking confused. He just wouldn’t let this go. “But… we grew up together. The same street even. You saved me from that stray Aberration when we were both whelps.” He rubbed his head, his interest in corpse digging annoyingly at zero. “I guess you don't want people to know about that. Sorry. Sorry.”

“While that sounds wonderful and all, Trav, I have no memory of such an incident. How could I? I only came here 7 months ago. Came in from that massive ship of nobles and known names, eager to assist the honorable Lemure with his terraforming of this city's wretched state.” Her digging had become downright whimsical, digging away ruins with a jaunty tilt of her head with every scoop. “Unrelated, but the Legacy has the authority to make their own past.” He was unaware of this, she could tell by the way he scratched his head, a nervous tic as unbecoming as a Rot Tick infection.

With no warning a hand sprung out of the wreckage. It was ravaged in bruises and open wounds, and it juttered unnaturally. There was a giant gash separating two fingers down to the nerves, like a frayed cloth. And yet the person attached was very much, undeniably, alive. You could tell by the quivering.

They fell off of the pile in shock and disbelief. 31 stayed on her feet, but 29 lost his fight with the ground and fell. Sometimes she questioned if he had the custard for this type of work.

There was a moment where none of them acted. Staring at the strangeness in front of them as if it would correct itself on its own.

But then instinct kicked in. 31 was certain this was Adam, who else could it be? Couldn’t be 41, they were far too much of a neat freak to let their nails go to seed.

“Is there a guy in there?” Devon asked.

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“You’re not supposed to talk.” 31 grasped the hand and pulled while 29 cleared a space around the exposed arm. The man came out slowly from the pile, like an animal being born. His clothes were tattered, and the state of his body matched the sorry state of his hand. Neither of them had ever seen this man before, but there was no doubt on his identity. They looked to each other, sharing a smile.

They helped him to his feet roughly. The man groaned as ribs cracked from the sudden force. “Easy now buddy, we’re the ones who found you, we’re not gonna hurt you.”

“What the fuck, that is a guy?!” Devoid of information Devon rushed forward. 31 kicked her for her own good. Her body fell flat with a satisfying groan. Less satisfying was the look of death Devon shot her from the ground.

“Be careful Ressy, this is 41’s killer.” She puppeteered his head, making his unkempt hair swing back and forth like overgrown moss on a windy day. “He’s killed a half dozen people while you were digesting breakfast.” She looked back to the mound, 41 was surely there too, perhaps right below the surface, but that didn’t matter now.

The man barfed up water, fetid and far fouler than any water she knew, and coughed like it was his last. “I’m… looking for transportation.”

29 raised a fist to quiet him, but she waved him off. “No worries friend, we’re here for you. You heard the man, let’s transport!”

She moved the man forward a bit to demonstrate, and 29 helped by moving him on his side. The scene looked like a drunkard being paraded around by friends eager to get him home, which was not an unfamiliar sight in Gutworth. They were in a full on waddle now, and passed by Devon, recovering from the hit.

Only a few steps into their transport, they saw figures approaching against the green horizon. There were seven of them, all wearing the masks of Lemure’s Legacy.

While their decoration was mostly uniform, a few had unique additions that reflected their higher rank. 31 recognized 40 immediately from his cocky grin and pompous stride which fit his custom helm. From a distance it looked like a featureless grey half mask that covered everything above his nose, but up close you could see the eight pinprick eyes arranged in a diamond pattern. The others were Numbers that she only knew from their connection to 40. The giant 32, the unpleasant 38, and lower Numbers that were too replaceable to learn anything on.

40 was not likable, or charismatic, but his closeness to permanency gave him plenty of followers. Of course he had gotten the same message as she had. His rank meant he had received it earlier, and had had the time to attract quite a party.

“40! That's odd,” she said, as soon as they were in speaking distance. “We stand at the grave of 41, and yet you have not replaced them.” She wanted to gesture with her hands, but supporting the stranger made this difficult.

“Perhaps Morgan doesn’t have confidence in him,” 29 said, turning to 31 for approval with a silly grin.

40 did not bite, he looked down at the ground and slowly shook his head like a frustrated crywolf. “You’re so goddamn stupid, Lemsk.” That name again, she flinched. The head came up, the tiny holes in his mask burning red. “You always have been.” His Numbers drew their Remarks.

“Right. We don’t have time for this Dawren. You can look for 41’s corpse, we grew bored of it. Us and our two reserve members here will leave you to it, best of luck.” She hoped this response would give them cover to leave, but no dice, the use of his name did not rankle him.

40 and his gang took three large steps forward, surrounding them. He pointed at Adam, the man’s tired eyes focusing on the hand. “This is one of your reserves? He seems quite old for a ressy.”

“Oh he insisted on joining, had fond memories of the Deluge, believe it or not, he’s on a trial run,” 31 said. 29 had to hoist Adam up behind his neck just to keep him from falling. He was muttering something neither cared to hear.

“12 saw only three of you leave.” A sheepish nod from a Number to his left.

“He lives on the outskirts, we met him out of town!”

“We’ve been following you this whole time. We know that never happened.”

“You’re right! He was here when we arrived, begged to join us, seemed trustworthy enough.”

“We saw you pull him out of this rubble here.” 38 taunted with their remark, an epee that doubled as a telescope.

“That we did, this man is delirious, can barely comprehend, and we are planning to sell him on the body market for extra income.” Adams muttering took on a darker tone, obviously not happy.

“Interesting…” He placed a finger on his scruffy chin. “That’s… so Grand damned interesting because, you know, 41’s corpse is here. This very spot. And surely you know of the one they called Adam.”

“I’ve heard he’s caused a lot of trouble, but of his whereabouts I do not.” Adam was trying to wiggle out of their grip, but the two held onto him tightly. 40 took another step closer, passing by Devon, who was trying to act like she wasn’t there.

“Good thing I do.” His breath smelled like dead insects. “He was last seen fighting 41, and if 41’s corpse is in that pile, and that's where you found this man…” he turned to his numbers and gave them a shrug.

“Well, in that case I guess it’s a good thing we found him! We’ll make sure to bring him to Morgan right away, a dangerous task, but we’re already saddled with him, so I guess the burden of delivery goes to us.”

With the stranger in the middle, the two walked urgently onward, hoping the numbers surrounding them would part. 40 got out his remark, a massive double sided blade so long that the end of it landed on 31’s steel boots ten feet away. He was not looking at them anymore, as if they were beneath his notice.

“You haven’t gotten the news then.” He waggled his wrist, she knew what was on it.

“The title of 41, and head of the Number Guard, will be given to whoever brings us Adam Kadmon, alive.” She took a protective position in front of the stranger.

“You don’t know if it's truly him.” She said, not liking the fear in her voice, impossible to obscure.

“And neither do you, but you’re bringing him to the Constants anyway.” He sucked air through his teeth and sighed, running a hand through his golden locks. “Do me a favor, leave him with me. I’ll make you whatever number you want, maybe even set up a duel for you”

“41 never had that kind of power.”

“Well I’m not like them,” 40 shouted, his voice disturbingly placid even as he ranted. “I’ll be able to do whatever I want. I’m the one who brought Adam Kadmon straight to Morgan Lemure’s lap. All of you are pawns to me.” He motioned to his Numbers on either side, who didn’t seem to care. “I’ll move you all around how I see fit.”

31 snorted, hating this type of grandstanding. “Too bad you didn’t find him first.”

The circle closed in, all of his men sharing that same placid excitement, like they knew something 31 didn’t. “I have plenty of witnesses who will confirm otherwise.”

There was only one option, one she was happy to take. “Witnesses?” 31 raised her hand in the air, the intensity of the actions caused the numbers to laugh and ready their remarks… but nothing happened. The others looked around confused, but none of them bothered to turn around, to see what was barreling towards them. Only 40 looked like he got it, like he understood her trick.

Standing in front of her, he slyly let one of his numbers take his place. The kid was eager to impress, and stood tall where his better once stood. “Alright doop, you’re gonna put your hand down and-“

A bladed stick, streaming through the sky on a trajectory a mile long, found its target. 31’s Remark plowed through the kid’s skull. His mask fell off first, followed by the contents of his head. It’s Trick wasn’t that it always came back, the Trick was that she could summon it from any distance, with any possible trajectory. With a giggle, 31 picked up her Remark and tossed it in the air like a kid playing with a ball.

“The duel has commenced!” someone shouted, and then there was violence.