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In Elkins, the early February weather was more like early May, but the light was still that of winter. The flowers on the tree in front of the bedroom branch made an eerie contrast with the weak sun. It was fine. It made Grace feel chilly, for no good reason, but her sweet skin tucking into his under the blankets was delightful. Rowan caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you.”
“You make me happy,” she kissed him. “Even when I hate you.”
“Sorry?” Rowan jerked back his head.
“Sometimes, I want to strangle you,” Grace confessed, throwing her calf around his legs and gluing herself to him. That sort of touch, he could enjoy day and night. “Going for a marathon like that,” she snapped her fingers.
“I did take a break, didn’t I?”
“You did,” she fondled his hair. “Nevertheless, tomorrow you’ll go back to work, so… maybe you need to invest some time to get n touch with the news. Speak with Dmitri about your father.”
“What about my father?”
“Speak with Dmitri. I have more pressing matters to tell you.” Searching for his chin, Grace pulled it so he looked into her eyes. “Cora’s going into mating season again and wants to have a baby with you. She thinks you know and want it too, and asked me and Isla if we want to have babies at the same time to grow them together. Isla is quite smitten with the idea.”
“Gaaaaah…”
“Close your mouth and don’t you dare faint on me. Take it like man. Now you'll learn to really listen to us when we talk to you."
"But I did listen," he complained. "It was just a generic conversation. Like sure, I want kids with you. I didn't imagine she meant now."
"Was it listening, or were you just sipping your favorite Bourbon and saying yes dear, yes dear thinking about proof and non-chill filtering?"
He looked into nothingness for a second. "Look… The thing is, I'm surprised, but it's not a big deal… I'm OK with it, really. I like kids. But what got into her? She's barely over twenty."
"Ask her," Grace shrugged. "From what I got, she wants to get it done now, while young, to have time later for a Ph.D. and stuff. She said they have much easier pregnancies than humans, and, if we’re to believe her, Cat Folk babies are cute and easy to raise. 'Give them kids a clew to play, and they are happy all day.' Nekojin proverb.”
Rowan facepalmed but gathered his will for the new challenge. “OK. No worries. Fair enough, I guess. The point is I didn’t marry any of you without considering kids. What are you thinking about having one together?”
“Well, Isla likes the idea. She’s very motherly, only… hadn’t the chance to prove it with small children, Thomas was six when she adopted him.”
“I didn't ask about Isla, I asked about you. I wouldn’t love Lizzie any less if we had more kids, and I’ll try to be a good father for all of them.”
“I know…” she fondled his cheek.
Thinking about his adoptive daughter made him smile. “I love Lizzie so much that often I wish to have known her earlier, as a baby. To rock her in my arms, care for her when her teeth grew…”
“Trust me, you have no idea what you’re talking about," Grace snorted. "Let’s do this: if our quest succeeds, and Earth is safe, we’ll go for it.”
“We're safe in here anyway. But so be it. I’ll work hard to make Earth safe.”
“Don’t! Please don’t work hard. For you, working hard means running into danger. Be more careful. Are you going to shower first?” she asked.
“In five?” he asked, starting to knead her body.
“Make it ten,” she whispered.
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Fifteen minutes later, with Grace back to a late morning sleep, Rowan arrived downstairs. Lizzie was already in school, it was Bree’s shift to take care of her. Cora mumbled a hi, her mouth full, but Dmitri was washing the dishes by hand, so he was open for talking.
“So, Dmitri, what’s up with Papa?”
“Wrong?" Dmitri let a plate fall back in the sink and raised his hands heavenward. "Nothing’s wrong, except he’s going murder-hobo. He’s killing lots of people.”
Rowan was now slack-jawed. “P-papa?”
“None other. The Warlord gave him a quest: kill a thousand people and save one thousand. The latter, he’s already done with.”
“He saved a thousand people in a month?”
“He’s a healer, went around hospitals in the outside world, helping people recover from terrible injuries and illnesses. He’s considered a Saint, out there.
“Now, he goes on missions with SWAT teams and cops, against drug dealers and cartels. He can’t be harmed, you see. Self heals, pushes his regens to the max, and has a magical shield and military-grade body armor immune to anything short of a cannon. The cops let him do their job. He rushes ahead, kills everybody, and the police 'accidentally'," Dmitri made air quotes, in duplicate, to make his point, "discover the crime scene afterward. Saves them paperwork.”
“Isn’t he wanted or stuff?”
“You're joking, right? Who cares? He changed state, though, I heard he decimated the FBI in Philly, for fun.”
“Perfect, they were assholes. Let’s look at the good part: he’s not on my head all day anymore. Thanks for the heads up, Dmitri. I’ll have a word with him when possible, but don’t hope for miracles.”
“I don’t hope for anything, just gave you the news.”
“Ahum,” Cora cleared her voice to ask for Rowan's attention.
“Sorry, baby… Want me to cook you some pancakes?”
“We need to talk. I swear, sometimes, I want to strangle you,” the Nekojin sneered with her cute cat-like expression, creasing her little nose.
I think I’ve heard that before.
“Taking a week off, just like that? There is work to be done,” the Nekojin continued, crossing her arms.
“I’m all ears, baby. Tell me what you want me to do,” Rowan made puppy eyes. "I mean, everything for the future mother of my kid."
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Honey…” she melted, accepting his hug. “Don’t worry about anything, it’s way easier for us. Now, are you ready to hear the news?”
“Just a sec, to grab something to eat.” A minute later, with a plate of food and a cup of coffee in his hands, Rowan nodded to her.
“That African dictator was spot on. We're searching in a new pattern, and found seven cores inside the County, for now, all true dungeons. About fifty cores were jettisoned here, in the US, half of them mini cores, all but six accounted for, and the rest real ones. So, there are about twelve more real dungeons to be found.”
"Nice," Rowan nodded, gobbling a pancake, trying to find more subjects for conversation. However, he managed just to frown, chew, and look into nothingness. It was Cora who broke the silence.
“I want you to know that I'm trying to repair the Traipenent's insertion and extraction room, the one we used to put the prisoners in dungeons… I'd… like it very much if we'd be able to extract the prisoners, before consuming the true dungeons cores. I'm not comfortable with the idea of giving life while taking others casually—"
Her pretty mouth and serious expression were so endearing that Rowan kissed her. "Don't worry, baby, we'll work it out. We'll put them in a regular prison or something."
Outside, there was a short police siren signal, a sign Isla had arrived. Cora rushed to whisper to Rowan: "Be careful, she’ll want to show her Louisville's projects to you. Grace hates them. Here,” Cora showed him some photos on her screen.”
“But they’re so pretty!” Rowan exclaimed.
“They’re AI-assisted," Cora said. "Grace says it’s cheating, and Isla says it’s the prompt that makes the art, not the AI. The good news is I’m now each one's BFF, the bad news is they hate each other. Except when sleeping together, then, they get along quite well.”
“Fuuuuuuck… why don't women ever— Hey, honey,” Rowan changed the tone, rising to hug and kiss Isla.
“I want to strangle you,” she said, but after kissing him.
“Take a ticket, the line’s upstairs. What did I do?”
“Nothing, except being yourself,” Isla waved her hand, sitting at the table after taking a cup of tea. “You have a secret fan club, groupies writing on social media about how your AoE feels on their skin. As soft as kisses, if you want to know.”
“What the fuck?" Rowan yelled. "I didn’t AoE on anyone’s skin.”
“Sure you did. On Nerio’s and Notties. They both have a crush on you. The good news: they agreed to share. Bad news, ain’t going to happen. We, your wives, strongly disagree.”
“I won’t have sex with two teenagers just because we hiked together, for goodness' sake! I’ll keep my distance, I promise.”
“Sure you will. I enrolled them in high school, to keep them busy, and there are plenty of cute boys there. Also, I sent them to go hunting mutated crats in Vancouver—"
"Moment!" Rowan blurted, forwarding both his hands in a stopping gesture. "What the fuck are crats?"
"Mutated cats and rats breed. Nerio and Nottie kill them, then weep and post all over social media how they represent true forbidden love, like Romeow and Juli— Ratatouille, whatever."
"Romeow, really?" Cora raised her voice, almost hissing.
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Sports was the activity Thomas enjoyed the most in school. Now that he was Awakened, even if his class wasn't permanent, he got to spar with real warriors, and he loved it. Even training with his mother was now less of a chore, but his favorite, by far, was Hubert, the Paladin. The man was patient and explained things in a logical straightforward manner, helping Thomas understand the mechanics of Tanking. He wished to become a Paladin too when his coming of age would offer his permanent class.
Instead of waiting in the special training room, Hubert was outside, walking back and forth. He was nervous, that was clear. "Hi, Thomas," Hubert said. "I can't stay today, just got a message my… err… divorce was approved and I have to sign the papers in court."
"Divorce?" Thomas creased his forehead. Hubert was a Catholic priest, what was he talking about?
"A figure of speech. I and that pest, Wurf the Goblidog, are going our separate ways. Finally, my prayers were listened to!" Hubert raised his interlocked fingers. "But since you're my favorite student, I arranged a special challenge for you," the Paladin winked. "Show them what you're capable of. Well, I have to go, bye." Rubbing his hands and trotting merrily, the priest disappeared in moments.
Shrugging, Thomas entered the room, closing the door behind him. The space was sizable, the arena fifty yards by fifty, and had benches for the public too. On the first bench were two silhouettes, sitting in the penumbra. Two shadows, giggling and moving their fingers over the screens of their smartphones at tremendous speed.
Suddenly, Thomas gasped and pressed his back to the door, screaming in his mind: Let me out! Let me out!
[The Butler]: Skipping important curricular activities is discouraged. The training Arena is closed for the next two hours.
Noooooo! he wailed, closing his eyes as the shadows had started walking, approaching.
"Relax, kid, we won't hurt you," a voice said, and a hand patted his hair. "Hmm…. This is so soft… and smells nice…" There was a soft pressure to his hair, now, and the sound of sniffing.
"Don't do that!" another voice blurted. "Touching someone is offensive here. Harassment or stuff. They bitch about everything."
Gasping and trembling, Thomas opened his eyes, taking in the view of his two Nemesis: Nerio and Nottie. The first was grimacing, holding her right hand with her left one, like to stop it from moving on its own. Nottie grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling the War Godess's Avatar away.
"His hair is other-worldly… I want it too," Nerio whimpered. "How do you do that, kid?"
"'T's because… of my Black heritage…" Thomas whispered. "Not something I do, I was born like this," he started to feel more confident. After all, he had confronted monsters. What could a couple of girls, even the most beautiful and trendy in the all school do to him? They can laugh at me, Thomas thought, and his knees started to wobble. Or mock me on social media… Now his knees were hitting each other.
"Hubert made a mistake," Nottie said to Thomas. "He told us we'd have a surprise today, and train with someone really knowledgeable and strong."
"I was hoping for Rowan," Nerio sighed, her eyes looking upward, longingly.
That grated on Thomas's nerves. "There's nothing Rowan does I can't show you—"
"I can think of some things," Nottie giggled. "You're what, ten?"
"I'm twelve now!" he yelled. "And one of the best Tanks in town, even with kid stats."
"Oh, now I remember," Nerio nodded. "I've heard about you. You were among the first Awakened on Earth, fighting a dungeon twenty levels over yours. And Isla Culloden's your mother. Very well, lion cub, let's spar." Saying that the girl stepped back, an armor enveloping her and a sword appearing in her hand.
"Nerio, no!" Nottie said. "What if we hurt him?"
"If we hurt him, he'll Rezz. And so would we, if he hurts us."
In the next second, Nerio Dashed at Thomas. He barely had time to call up his Invulnerability, when the sword came down, a perfect hit on his collarbone that would have probably cut his torso in two. As the sword bounced back, he dodge-rolled. That was the next step in his rotation when fighting alone, a filler-up.
Instead of trying to get her balance back, Nerio transformed it into a spin, the tip of her sword hitting the floor barely a hair-width from Thomas's neck. He jumped on his feet and Dashed at her, grabbing her around the midriff, and Dashed again with his second stack of the skill, making her hit the wall head-first.
A killing blow, for anyone, normally ending in a broken neck. He had acted instinctively and cussed at himself. To his relief, but also panic, the girl looked non-plussed, looking in much better shape than the wall, which had a big indenture in it. Thomas's hands lost their grip, Nerio's waist was now too big for him to grab it. She had shapeshifted into a giant.
"Run! For six seconds she's invincible!" Nottie yelled.
"Hey, whose side are you on?" Nerio shouted, running at Thomas at a racing car's speed.
There was an Evade later in his rotation, but Thomas had to activate it now, as he jumped back, and chained it with an Ignore Damage because his Invulnerability was still on cool-down. Her sword hit him so hard he got projected into the back wall, flying in the air, his eyes meeting Nerio's widened gaze on the way.
"You're killing him, stop!" she yelled.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Thomas yelled, recollecting himself from the floor. He was, but the shout had not been intended to assure the girls about his corporal integrity but to make them listen to him for the second his Invulnerability needed to get back online. More or less, he had completed his short rotation, but he knew that in the real world, getting more hits in or executing the longer rotation was out of the question, as well as taunting Nerio. That would have been suicide.
"The lion cub is strong," Nerio said, transforming back and dismissing her armor and weapon.
"Only a main Tank could have a chance against you," Thomas confessed.
"Nah, your mobility's better," Nerio waved her hand. "A main tank is a dumb brick, I transform into a shadow, project myself into their armor, then shapeshift, and they got squashed into a pulp between my body and the inside of their plate."
"It's not a sight you want to see," Nottie nodded. "No one wants to spar against her after going through that. OK, I see Hubert had a point. Why don't we talk about a pattern of training? Me and Thomas against you, Nerio?"
Thomas, however, was gazing at Nerio with adoration, thinking what was the proper gift to win her heart. For now, we decided that if she ever wanted to pat his hair again, she'd be welcome.