Ruin, three months before the Volta job
Seras woke to the ever-pleasant sight of bare ass in the morning. No really, on a scale of one to ten this one was a solid nine and half. The only reason it wasn’t a solid ten was simply because that’s what Seras rated her own and felt nothing else could compare.
“Oh, a full moon,” she remarked.
Frost turned her head and glared at Seras. The stark lines of mouth mask that replaced her whole lower jaw adding to the sharpness of her angular eyes. “Your jokes a terrible Blackiron,” Frost said coldly.
Seras grinned and sat up, “sorry, just a bit witless from the sight.”
The woman glared at her for a moment longer, before she rolled her eyes and turned away.
Seras slowly rotated her shoulder and felt around her body. Not a single creak or strain, the fortune she spent on this new body was worth it. Everything felt so smooth, zero lag time. And the fact that she had finally gotten a full body conversion made it so that she didn’t feel constantly exposed from having anymore surface meat to worry about.
She walked over to look out through the hardened synthetic sapphire windows to the bustling city below. Even Seras didn’t have enough power in her arsenal to break through a window like this, it’s why they didn’t need to drop the steel shutters at night. If only the view was as spectacular as the window’s material. Even in the daytime Mantel felt dark and gritty.
Thick impenetrable clouds of ash and smog blanketed the city in perpetual twilight gloom. And the dark building material of the city didn’t help that image. Even the harsh artificial light from neon’s and LED’s just added a false cheeriness that had the opposite effect on mood.
Still to look down on it all from the mid-levels of a mega tower was a luxury in itself.
A bulky freight shuttle flew past the window, the normal roar of the engines drowned out entirely by the buildings soundproofing.
Seras sighed and turned back to where Frost had disappointingly gotten dressed. “I’ve looked over the details Blackiron,” Frost began without preamble, “I don’t see it as remotely possible.”
Seras frowned, “even with the extra assets I listed?”
“Even with. We’re not talking about a simple smash and grab. This is a heist placing us against the best security out there, and to top it all off the facility is up in the clouds. We can’t do it.”
Seras pulled up the image of what the assets they were after, “they’re really going all out to protect the silver grade augs.” Seras’ heart yearned for the upgraded version of her current cybernetics.
Biolite silver grade paramilitary tactical augmentations. A bunch of corporate drivel for what was the most advanced cybernetics in existence. The techies and nerds she knew weren’t even sure how Biolite had made such powerful cyberware. Some of the leaked footage of Biolite enforcers in the Silver grade gear looked more akin to myth and legend than actual engineering.
And Seras wanted it. She wanted it bad. More than she had ever wanted anything before.
“I can see why though. The lack of security on the bronze rank gear has led to far too much trouble for Biolite. You’ve already nearly made back your investment with your’s.”
Seras frowned, “rank?”
Frost didn’t do anything so obvious as blinked or turn away, “misspoke,” she said.
Seras didn’t believe her. Reading Frost was like reading ancient Vestalan, but Seras had learned her tells over the years. You could tell Frost was trying to obscure her feelings and reactions by the movement of her chest, if it was still rising and falling you knew she was trying to hide something.
Frost was about as different from Seras as you could get while still being the same species. She was quiet where Seras was loud. She hated just about everyone around her where Seras could actually find things to like and respect in a lot of people. And when it came to doing their jobs there was a single qualitative difference that set them apart, where Seras still felt a numb twinge in her chest when innocent people got hurt, Frost felt nothing.
Their work still left the same number of bodies in the end, but people have told Seras that her reactions still showed she had a shred of humanity left deep down. While Frost was more robotic and calculating than Seras, despite being less machine.
“It might be time to rethink my earlier offer.” Frost said.
Seras bit her lip, “look, you’ve made your case clear, but I refuse to sign away my freedom to become some corpo enforcer.”
She had been receiving many offers from the big players in Biolite and other major corps. They were very generous deals, the kind that came with a luxury suite on a space station, and an arbitrary promise of surviving Ruin’s death. Though Seras didn’t see how. Deep space proved that most of the nearby star systems were lifeless, lacking in even terraforming candidates. As advanced as the stations were they couldn’t live without the planet.
Frost on the other hand was considering it. But she was holding off just because she lacked the same rep as Seras and was being offered a worse deal than she was.
“What about the other offer?” Frost asked.
“What the Volta job? We told them to shove it.”
“I think you’re all being to narrow minded” Frost growled, “they’re practically on their hands and knees right now. We can press them for better terms. They want this job done, and their own people won’t cut it. Imagine what we could demand out of them?”
Seras crinkled her nose, that job sounded as rotten as an instameal restaurant. For the first time in a long time she thought of Cash and how much he loved those rancid ‘meat-dogs’ which included neither meat, synth-meat, or plant-sludge treated to taste edible. It had all the nutritional value of concrete mix, except concrete mix would be healthier than ‘meat-dogs’. She had told him all of that and still he ate them anyway.
Kind of like her and Frost. But who was the poison Seras couldn’t tell, the hardened killer who had shot her best friend in a moment of panic, or the one who had killed her own parents in cold blood by poisoning their water supply?
Or maybe they were both just fucked up enough to deserve one another.
Frost saw Seras digging her heels in on the matter and changed track, “you’re always talking about your legacy, your legend. But everything you’ve done until now has been loose change to these corpo bastards, this would be different.”
Seras glared sidelong at Frost, “how stupid do you think I am? The crew’s made our choice.”
“And if you would talk to them they’d reconsider.” Frost countered. She glanced to the side in a rare display of emotion, “they don’t trust me, not on this. They think I’ll set them up,” She admitted.
“Fuck, still? After everything we’ve been through together?”
She shrugged, “I don’t blame them, I’ve cut out other crews before.”
“But not us.” Seras insisted.
“It is what it is. We’re Mercs, sin and misery.” She deflected.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Seras smirked at the quote, it was one of her favorites, “look this job is sketchy as hell. But I do trust you. Do you think there are guarantees we can make to subvert any double crosses?”
“There’s always something, but nothing’s guaranteed.”
Seras sat back on the bed and started to shake her leg in agitation. “Let me think on it.”
She leaned over the bed and draped herself over Seras’ shoulders, “that’s all I can ask.”
Seras leaned back and tried to kiss Frost, but in that impulsive reaction she had forgotten about the face mask that had replaced Frost’ lower face. She had no mouth for Seras to kiss, and try as she might that sometimes got to her. Like there was one last barrier between them.
Oh well Seras wasn’t one to judge someone for their personal choice in cyberware, even if that choice made it impossible to kiss your partner.
~~~*~~~
Seras was on the edge of the plateau staring over the sprawling mass of the Toruach herds. That was where Lindascarn found her. “There you are.” The Leonid said with a false cheeriness.
Seras glanced back and looked out over the edge again, “I’ve been doing some thinking Linda.”
“Dangerous habit.”
“Only to the stupid. They tend to convince themselves of all sorts of stupid shit, like being intelligent.”
Linda laughed, “cynical, but true.”
“I think I’ve just about got things in order. The Elf’s got a huge crush on Leyley. Leyley knows but doesn’t want to change things or something, so she sleeps around to try and send a message to Liz. And Athena and I got caught up in all that shit last night.”
Linda stepped up next to her and sat down as well, “more or less.”
Seras glanced back, “you knew all this and knew what would have happened if you invited me out. Why?”
Linda looked abashed, “well, if you’ll recall I thought you and the tall girl were a thing.”
“But we weren’t, aren’t.”
“Yeah well, I got word too late, and Leyley saw an opportunity.”
“I still don’t get it.”
Linda sighed, “do you know how hard it is to manage a team and keep things from becoming anarchy. I’m not the best leader around, but I’m also the only option. Kent’s too passive, Liz is stuck up, and Leyley jumps on any pretty girl she can find except the one head over heels for her because she’s afraid of real intimacy. You and the tall healer girl had a good chemistry and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to trial the two of you. But your healer doesn’t actually like healing, and you’re not actually off the market.”
“Her abilities hurt her. You saw her missing arm from the night before? That was her taking on one of my injures, and she lost the whole arm in the chaos.”
“No, no, I get why, but from the stories you told… Mistakes were made.”
“Yup,” Seras agreed.
Linda sighed, “now for the hard part. I need to ask you to stay away from my team.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Seras pointed out.
“Which is why its hard.”
Seras sniffed, “yeah, fine. I don’t need the drama.”
“Thanks, and tell you healer friend we appreciate her patience with Liz.”
Seras snorted, “trust me, patience is the wrong word for it.”
Linda patted her on the shoulder, “thank her all the same.”
Seras sighed and stood up, she extended a hand to the young Leonid woman. “It’s been good meeting you Lindascarn.”
“Ah, don’t say the full name, it makes me sound old.”
Seras laughed and they shook hands before walking off.
She wandered off into the camp trying to organize her thoughts. This whole thing felt like one chaotic distraction. One Seras had felt like she needed after everything that had happened in the Labyrinth, but now she was kicking herself over it. She put a hand to her chest and felt the pain that was always there.
It hurt, it hurt so bad that most days she struggled to distract herself from it. She needed to find a cure. She resolved to begin actively searching for solutions and knowledge. She had been… well not distracted, but unable to pursue the knowledge she would need. But now she had a magic society membership, and assuming all went well she would also have an adventure society membership. Not to mention the loot she could sell and the spirit coins she acquired.
And then there was the book on Magitech. Seras had been reading it nonstop since she got it, and she was beginning to feel some confidence in making use of her first essence ability. If things went how she expected then it might go from her most useless to her most essential.
Maybe.
And then there was her other useless ability. [Spark of Madness]. Right now it was just taking up an essence ability slot and doing jack all for her. She would need every tool in her arsenal to fix her problem.
Seras wasn’t really paying attention to where she was going, just walking to help her think. She looked into one tent as her thoughts wandered, and stopped in her tracks immediately. She quirked an eyebrow at what she saw, a young warrior was shirtless and was receiving a tattoo from an old woman. The tattoo was all swirling colors and lines in a greater design of some bird spanning the man’s back.
Looking at it felt like a violation of privacy, like an intimate gesture that she couldn’t understand. A group of other young Akemi warriors stood around the young man receiving the tattoo, they were all watching with rapt attention and quiet reverence. Obviously some deeply personal ritual was going on with the tattoo, one that was intentionally left open to the public but unseen by the man himself.
That was all one thing, and maybe Seras would have considered sticking around if only to sate her curiosity, or maybe she would have decided that this wasn’t for her to see and move on. But her feet were rooted firmly in place and her attention was focused not on the man getting a tattoo, but the tattooist herself.
She was an old woman, or so her aura said, because her actual skin and facial features showed a woman into her thirties at most. She wore her long black hair up, and had several vermillion feathers hanging from it. She wore clothes similar to the make of the Akemi, but with an older, more ancient feel to their style.
Seras recognized this woman, though it felt like a year had passed since she had met the old woman in the Wolfram valley.
It was the same woman from the small skill book shop, the one that had gotten Seras’ understanding of ritual magic kickstarted for the price of a story. Skill books could provide rudimentary knowledge and experience in a variety of subjects, and though most considered them inferior to actual study and practice,
it was a good way to get a head start on those skills.
Like with body builders, protein powders were a great supplement for muscle growth, but without the actual workout or proper form the supplement was just going to waste.
The issue was that the last time Seras had seen her was some five hundred kilometers away from her.
She stood and waited for the woman to finish her work. When the last ribbon-like line of black ink was added to the outstretched bird Seras was filled with a sense of soaring freedom built upon the ideas of ancient traditions. A bizarre thought to have when looking at a tribal tattoo, but she wasn’t going to ignore it. Magic was at work there.
The warrior stood up and turned around to look at his back in a mirror inside the open tent. He looked at the tattoo and a little tear came to his eyes; he turned back to the crowd and made a fist and screamed into the air.
The crowd broke into cheers and clapping and the warrior was quickly herded away by the group, the tattooist completely forgotten.
Seras stepped forward, “Matron,” she greeted.
The old woman turned to face and gave Seras a slight smile, “ah the child from the ruined world. You’ve come far.”
“As have you,” Seras commented.
The woman smiled mysteriously, “child, you have been in this world for long enough to know some of our great wonders.”
She frowned, “portal magic?”
“Among other tricks,” the Matron said with a mysterious smile.
Seras grunted, she glanced around the tent and gestured toward the retreating group, “what was that about?”
The woman watched with slight amusement, “an ancient sort of ritual. Dating to well before when the temple of Knowledge began recording history in raw hide scrolls. In those days it was all poetry and song. Not so much anymore, most of the new priests couldn’t hold a tune to save their lives.”
“You speak like you were there.”
She smiled mysteriously, “memory and records still abide, especially in ancient tribes like those of the Deserts.”
That explained it. The woman was talking about a time in history before any written traditions. While a Silver ranker could grow fairly old she couldn’t have been that old. Only the Gods were that old, and maybe diamond rankers if they were truly immortal.
“And the ritual?”
“A soul crest.” The woman said as she began to wrap up her tools. “Many places around the world have such magic, but in those places they are bought with money and privilege. Here in the tribes they are earned the hard way, like all things.”
“And what is a soul crest?”
“Hmm, hard to explain exactly. In a sense it is a drawn representation of a person’s soul. There are magics to draw it out, and there are slight variations in the artist’s attempts, but each one is unique and cannot be altered.”
“I see, but what’s the point?” If it was so tricky then why waste time on it. She could see why a bunch of rich brats would want a special magic tattoo, but for a practical people like the Akemi it seemed frivolous.
“That’s even harder to explain. For some in the world it is simply a mark of status, a vain attempt at glory. For those people it reveals the truth and they grow upset at what the crest reveals. But its in the revelation that the crest holds power. It is a way for one to see the shape of their soul and come to terms with what’s there. Some believe that soul crests are an essential step in every iron ranker’s journey to gold or diamond. But I won’t explain why.”
“Do you have one then?”
“I do, though it’s a personal intrusion to ask.”
Seras jerked a thumb back towards the disappearing group, “they saw the whole process.” She pointed out.
“Yes, that is a thing of tradition. In other parts of the world a master artist will only allow the recipient to see their crest, and then they chose to reveal it to those they trust.”
“I’d still like to see yours if possible.” Seras pressed on rudely.
There was something off about this old woman, and she wanted answers.
The matron snapped her fingers and the tent closed on it own. They became shrouded in complete darkness until a faint multicolored light appeared above them. Seras looked up and saw a bird sitting in the eaves of the tent, though bird was a bit lacking for something so resplendent.
It had the look of the ‘hawk’ birds Seras had seen over the desert, but unlike normal hawks this one had an ethereal translucent body. Like a spirit’s form, and within its spectral form was the colors of an aurora faintly glowing within, changing and moving slowly.
Seras turned back to the woman and saw that she had already removed her shirt to reveal the ink upon her back. Eight faces were there, one was angry, one happy, another sad, one scared, one mischievous, one cold and imperious, one defiant, and the final one was in the center and completely blank.
Then her shirt was back on, the aurora phoenix faded away, and the tent opened back up as if nothing happened.
Seras blinked her eyes at the rapid turnabout. It had taken less than a heart beat or two, and her mind was still in shock at it all.
“Have you satisfied your curiosity?” the Matron asked sweetly.
“No.” Seras admitted.
She laughed, “good, at least your honest.” She stood up straighter and gestured back towards a little table set up in the corner. “Won’t you sit with me and tell me another story, child of the ruined world?”
“Would I get another free skill book?” Seras asked.
“No, you only get one. But I will offer you a story of my own in trade. An ancient one, but one still told by our people. A foundational tale.”
Seras frowned, “one of your star stories, I mean like the stories about your constellations.”
“I see the young Akemi has been sharing some with you. Tell me, did he tell of the silver hand?”
Seras vaguely recalled it. It was a collection of stars that might look like a single hand, it would slowly flip around from the perspective of Pallimustus depending on the season. “Vaguely, something about a man hunting, but failing to catch his quarry, he falls into despair after failing, but he gets up and tries again. He always fails to hunt his beast, but he always gets back up, endlessly.”
She nodded “that is the modern interpretation of the original, but I happen to have the full story, as close to the original as we can get.”
Seras shrugged as she sat down, “well, maybe, why’s it important?”
The old woman smiled as she sat down, “I’ve been thinking long and hard about your story, of how your world was ruined. It remined me of this one.”
Seras blinked and was intrigued, “well then, be my guest.”
The woman held up a hand, “but first your story, what have you done since we last met.”
Seras shrugged, “why not. It all started when I saw a fire on the horizon-,”