Noland grips my shoulder. I turn to meet his face, and he thumbs over his shoulder at the concert venue. Silently, I coax Gisela into following us there. Stares dig into us like thrown daggers, most of them not quite filled with understanding, but fake emotions and erased memories. Whatever respect I had for Gasp turns to dust and floats away on the wind.
“I didn’t know Phineas liked kids.” Noland says quietly. “Now… I don’t want to bring anything up… but does that… well…” He shifts awkwardly. “Actually, nevermind. It doesn’t make a damn flicker of a difference, and your history is yours alone.”
Gisela’s smile never leaves her face. “It isn’t anywhere near as bad as you’re imagining. At least not for us. I was made aware of Phineas’ tastes at a specific conference, where he couldn’t keep his eyes from someone’s daughter. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation and excitement at the prospect of being given a coin. Three hours later, she was walking around with Phineas. And her eyes were empty.”
“Jesus…”
“My faith has been… well… let’s say ‘obliterated’ by what I’ve seen. No loving God would let this happen, and I won’t ever pray to a God who allowed this to happen.” Gisela looks down at the grass underfoot and sighs. “I wish I could tell you the entire truth. But it isn’t my truth alone to tell. It could endanger everything we built.”
“I get it. Way better than you probably think.” Noland assures her as we reach the doors. He pulls it open and steps aside to let us in. “The world right after the apocalypse was… vulnerable. It had room for the greatest heroes and the worst villains to appear. At first, the Preservation were real heroes. I don’t really know what changed; maybe some people died, maybe some had changes of heart–hell, maybe they just went mask-off and finally showed their true intentions.”
He shrugs as she steps in behind us, pulling the door shut so it slams against the frame. “The worst part of it is that the Preservation does a lot of everyday good. Helping struggling countries, victims of apocalypse-events, and even overseeing coin distribution where there’s a lot of violence. It’s just that at the tippy top, there’s nothing but rot trickling down. And it’s slowly poisoning everything else.”
I nod in agreement. Before I got my coin, the Preservation felt like a necessary evil; keeping everyone safe from anyone who got a Class and decided that makes them better than everyone else. Well turns out that ‘dangerous Class-bearers’ is a really loose term, and a lot of the time, it just means ‘someone we can’t control’. And if everyone at the top is like Phineas, Gasp and Ernest… well, how can you save an organization that’s organized by the worst people you know?
“The only positive thing about them is that they aren’t HuSt.” Gisela laughs weakly. “At least the Preservation hasn’t tried to take over a country with raw force. Only through complete control of coins and anyone with a Class.”
Noland’s snort echoes through the relatively empty halls. “That’s like saying a stab in the stomach isn’t as bad as a bullet to the brain. Personally, I’d rather not get killed in the first place.”
“So what do we do about it?” I ask. “And don’t just say ‘resist them’. That’s about as useful as a road sign telling a runaway semi-truck that the speed limit is fifty.”
“We kill the ones that need to go.” Noland says matter-of-factly. “People want you to think violence never works, but sometimes, people need to be scared of death. Ernest literally tried to kill you ten minutes ago. He thinks he’s a god among men just because of his position. I… well… I thought they’d be at least a little scared from what happened a while ago.”
Is… he talking about when he… oh, wait. Noland killed his dad. Now he’s talking about scaring people into feeling like their actions have consequences. Could he have… just to prove a point? No. I refuse to believe he did something so violent just to scare someone else. Maybe his dad deserved to die just as much as Phineas does.
That’s not a pleasant thought. But Noland got his money from somewhere, right? How else could he afford to personally bankroll the entire resort and still have money left to spare? There’s a really significant hole in how everything works. I bet that the reason he killed his dad will fit perfectly in that empty space.
Warning.
Noland’s neck snapped to the source of the sound. A speaker off in the corner, crackling with static and spewing incomprehensible noises that are almost words. It wasn’t making a single sound a second ago.
“Did that just say ‘warning’?” Gisela asks with heavy suspicion. “What could it be warning us about?”
“HuSt.” Noland mutters. “Get to the arena. If they’re sending who I think they’re sending, they’ll give Gasp a good fight for the spotlight.”
I turn towards the tunnels that lead towards the actual arena. Something… strange filters out of them. My awareness picks up on it instantly, like a sticky fog of invisible emotions rolling over the ground and around my feet. Fear stands out at the forefront, but not the kind of fear that sends you running and trembling. It’s the kind of fear that sets your heart pumping, your adrenaline roaring, and puts a dangerous grin on some people’s faces.
Maybe I could call it anticipation. But anticipation doesn't send a chill down my spine and get me checking every dark corner. Gisela shudders as her fingers drum against my forearm and her eyes dart quickly in every direction. Noland’s a mystery behind my mask, but his body isn’t shaking at all. He’s ready for this. Because he knows what’s coming.
“Noland, what’s waiting in there for us?” I ask as the speaker screams another few ‘warning’s at us.
He shrugs with just his shoulders. “I could tell you the name of one person, but I don’t know who’s coming along with him. Maybe he’s alone, maybe he’s got an entourage, or maybe they’re sending an entire party. Might as well save a minute by walking in there and seeing for ourselves.”
Warning: lockdown initiated.
Iron bars slam down from the top of the tunnel with an ear-shattering crash, followed by a cacophony of magnetic clicks and the buzzing of an electric current. I whip around to try and find a way out, but the way we came in is sealed off too.
Dangerous magics detected. Please remain calm and do not move while the problem is identified and dealt with.
“Identified?” I mutter and look around. “It’s obviously HuSt. But the Preservation came here in a damn mech–how come that didn’t trigger any warning alarms?”
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“Well, we weren’t here when they appeared, so maybe it’s only for the venue?” Gisela suggests.
Noland shakes his head. “The house would’ve locked down before anywhere else, but it didn’t. I bet it’s because the Preservation called ahead to tell Matt how they were showing up, but there’s no way HuSt would’ve given him the same consideration. And now we’re stuck here.”
“Uh… no, we’re not.” I hold out three coins and tap them to each of us. “Say the word and I’ll get us into the arena.”
A hand stops me from throwing them right away. Noland takes a deep breath, pulls off the mask, and cracks his knuckles. The golden aura from before flares right back up, and after a few moments of breathing, Noland gives me the go-ahead. I nod and walk up to the crackling gate, the bars separated by a good three inches each, and toss the coins right through them.
I teleport Noland first. Then Gisela. She stumbles a little out of surprise, but gathers herself almost instantly while Noland stares straight ahead. Finally, I activate my own relocation and join them beyond the easily escaped trap. Warm weight grips my arm yet again, and Noland motions for us to slowly move forward.
“What do you want with HuSt?” He asks.
It takes Gisela a second to recognize he’s talking to her. “Honestly… I don’t really know. They were already on the downturn when we started off, and they never had control of where we lived. I know they’re horrible–I’ve read everything on them–but I don’t have any personal grudges. So it’s going to be purely business.”
“Sure, see how long that lasts when you’re face to face with them.” Noland chuckles mirthlessly and locks eyes with me. “Shelby, keep some shields at the ready. HuSt is unpredictable first and foremost, but that means we know they’ll do anything. Be ready to be insulted, complemented, hit on, and even condemned in the same breath.”
So… they’re not unified. The Preservation definitely feels like a huge monolithic company, but I haven’t really dealt with selfish people with their own agendas yet. I square my shoulders, focus a little more on my awareness, and follow Noland into the sprawling seating of the arena.
We’re up on the second level of seats–which is actually the ground floor, since the standing room and the seats below are dug into the ground. People are milling about down there, including Matt himself, surrounded by a dozen bodyguards with magic at the ready. Everyone else is either sitting in a seat waiting to see what happens, standing in hopes of talking to HuSt, or cowering near the closed-off exits.
“Oh, this is going to be good.” Noland smirks and leans over the railing. “Take a seat if you want; we’re watching for a few minutes.”
Gisela startles and tries to leave. I don’t let her. She looks back at me with a baffled expression, her mouth moving but no words come out. That seems to shock her horribly, and she raises both hands to her mouth as her fingers tap at open lips.
“Shelby, can you talk?” Noland asks.
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah. No problem.”
Gisela huffs and crosses her arms, then pulls me down into a pair of seats with a good view of the stage. She motions for me to give her something, and when she sees that she needs to give me a little more than just some empty air grabbing, she rolls her eyes and switches to a motion like drawing on a piece of paper.
“Sorry; I don’t have any paper.”
Noland tosses her a notepad and a simple, disposable ballpoint pen. She catches it with practiced ease, then nods thanks to the back of his head. He still doesn’t turn around, his entire focus locked on the stage.
As she hastily scribbles something down, I take a deep breath and try to feel the magic that’s stealing her voice away. My awareness can’t feel anything so… maybe it only affects people without classes? Before I can think any further, a notebook hits my shoulder and I turn to find a note written in handwriting I distinctly remember seeing on the krarig.
‘Why can’t I talk? Is Noland doing this, or is it HuSt?’
I shrug. “Noland, this is HuSt, right?”
He nods. “One-hundred percent. It’s an extremely high range, low powered muting spell. Wherever HuSt is, they’re close enough to affect this place from the ground.”
“Maybe they’re standing where Ursula and I were.”
“Probably a good call. And they didn’t know it’d be in the sky, so they’re getting together someone who can fly or teleport them right now.” His nods become more vigorous as he convinces himself. “That feels so right I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Which means they’ll be here any second now, and Matt’s going to be very annoyed when he can’t talk.”
Gisela giggles, but no sound leaves her mouth. She looks down at her hand and scowls, then quickly scribbles me another message.
‘I need to talk to them before they meet with the Preservation.’
“Noland, she wants to talk to them before the Preservation does.”
He raises an arm and gives us a thumbs-up. “I can swing that. Oh, here’s a magical fluctuation–they’re coming.”
As he speaks, my awareness rocks like a ship on the ocean. My head swirls and swims for a split second as Pearl squeaks in surprise, the uncomfortable magic working its way through us like the wracking shudders just before you throw up. I shake my head and shift my focus away from my awareness, but all it serves to do is put that sensation in the back of my mind like a throbbing headache.
“Shit, that magic’s awful.” I groan and cover my eyes with my hand. “Whoever’s doing this must be some kind of an asshole.”
Two heavy impacts land on my shoulders. I wince and tilt my head further back, only to find myself staring up at a pair of camo pants and combat boots resting on my shoulders.
“What’d you call me, little missy?” The cockiest voice I’ve ever heard sarcastically asks me. A head of spiky bleached blonde hair sticks up from sunburned skin, with wraparound sunglasses and a mouth pulled into a shit-eating grin underneath. “Not very nice to judge people without talking to them first, now is it?”
I grunt and throw the guy’s legs off my shoulders. “My point stands.”
He laughs and stands up, then leans forward and ruffles my hair with mock affection. “Don’t screw with me, girlie. I’ve killed people more dangerous than you for way less than that.”
Noland turns and smiles at the man. The man stops, raises his sunglasses, and squints as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Noland, is that you?”
“In the flesh.” Noland confirms. “Get your hands off my friend or I’ll kill your whole family.”
The man’s hands fly up faster than a speeding bullet as he chuckles. “Hey, not my fault you can’t take a joke, No-man. Zeze felt something really weird up here, so I popped in to check it out. Last I checked, that ain’t a crime, yeah?”
“Do you really think I need justification to kill you, Taka?”
“No more than I need to kill you, man.” Taka laughs, then reaches down and ruffles my hair again as he looks at Gisela. “You want a conversation, girlie, just wait until we’re done with Matty-poo and come down to the stage. We’d love to hear you beg. Toodle-oo!”
In a puff of magic, Taka disappears and reappears on the stage. Matt flinches and walks up to him as two more people appear next to him; both women, and both wearing different kinds of confidence. Taka is cocky, the woman on the left looks like she doesn’t care at all, and the one on the right looks like she wants to punch someone as hard as she can.
Which she does, when one of Matt’s bodyguards gets a little too close. He splatters into blood mist, soaking another bodyguard and half of Matt.
“They haven’t changed a bit.” Noland mutters, his eyes smoldering with cold rage. “Shelby, protect Gisela with your life. If it comes to it, don’t hesitate to kill any of them. They’ll do the same to you.”