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44. No Rest For The Weary

Socks clung to his damp feet. Raw sewage soaked his expensive shoes and the hem of his dress pants. Monsters stomped in the dim light. The phone light absorbed into the cave. The flash light stayed on his belt. A red warning flashed on the phone’s charge meter. Fingers shook over the numbers on the screen, but once again there was no connection.

The department might as well have never existed. This wasn’t downtown Hanoi. None of his contacts were reachable, his extensive network of informants built over years of ground work, gone. And now here he was, stepping in runny sewage.

Mooooooooooooooooooorrrre!

Chien instinctively reached for the grip of the k-59 holstered under the trench coat. Those big white things with ten thousand mouths roared sometimes, other times they moaned disturbingly. They didn’t attack him, so he had no plans to bother them. From what he’d seen they were bottom feeders and only cared about the muck. They could do a better job at cleaning up. Chien squinted into the distance. The shape of a big as a giraffe with eight legs and thirty necks slowly walked in the opposite direction. Shooting one would not produce good results, he thought.

A nutrition bar rattled about in his pocket, the one that had slid right to his feet before he left the cave. Putrid air had moistened the box. He broke the cardboard. The smooth sealed package slid in his hand as he tossed the wet paper. He felt for the little divot and tore it open. A bar plopped out, a nice rectangular thin cookie. It lacked taste so completely and perfectly that it had to be a secret. He slowly chewed the cookie while trudging forward.

An old delivery truck with flat tires came into view. Strange violet light flickered from the windows. Mushrooms growing around the flat tires glowed a soft yellow. The spiral on the back of his right hand glowed slightly until the spade lit. The shallow pool splooshed under his soaked shoes.

[Quest: Kill Order For Circe Oratia Sheffield: Divergent Bookworm]

He took a moment to read the order. Eyes narrowed at the glow of the screen. They wanted everyone to gang up on some poor idiot and kill her? Well, he wasn’t a bounty hunter, so none of this was his problem. He’d check the truck for supplies though. Might be a dry place to sleep as well.

The driver side door hung open. No seats inside meant no comfortable place to sleep. Plenty of oddly colored roaches scurried about. He remembered seeing them back in Azoria’s cave. Wet fecal mush had been smeared all over the floor. As he climbed toward the storage compartment, the back of a slender bald woman in rags hung suspended by glowing chains. His mouth hung open while he reached for the chain. Half-moon eyes on the back of her hands flashed open with a hostile glow.

Chien backed out of the truck and almost fell on his butt outside. The last thing he needed was to bathe in this crap. The K-59 whipped out of the holster as he heard shuffling on the roof of the vehicle. A red goblin glared at him with glowing red eyes. Chien aimed for it, but it didn’t move, only watched.

The detective splashed and stomped to the back doors, already slightly ajar, and kicked them open. The ragged woman hung in brilliant violet luminescence shaded by graying tendrils licking every inch of her body. On the floor, a small cup of water stood next to a plate of crumbs.

An eye opened on her forehead, beaming. Another opened on her chest. The chains dissipated into dust as the figure stretched forth. Skin ragged, scarred, bloody, and scented of death confronted Chien. Soiled rags clung to the emaciated form. Her head tilted as a smirk twisted and then faded.

Circe floated forward.

The K-59 clicked slightly as the barrel pressed against her forehead.

Quest Target Acquired: Eliminate Target

Life was so simple, so easy. Like a video game. Kill this poor npc character and get rewarded. No reason to feel anything. No reason to care. Do the job. Carry the body. Get paid.

The gun shook slightly against the half-moon glowering over her forehead. Hands went up in a prayer, slender, petite, yet so utterly broken. Half the skin of her palms and the flesh around her thumbs had been flayed off! Her hands, soft, meaty, bloody, pressed against his and pushed the gun to the mark on her forehead.

“I’m dying,” she whispered with what creak her scarred throat could manage as she started to cry, “I don’t want to die. But how am I supposed to live?”

He pressed the barrel to her mark. Her body quivered and she squinted, coughed, and continued holding his hands as she floated. The tendrils flicked at his skin. Chien winced at the burning, tearing, flaying pain that went through his hands and up his arms.

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Putting her out of her misery seemed to be the right thing to do. That’s what she wanted, right? But then, he saw her tears. Slowly, he backed away as her form sunk. Scratched knees rested on the rusting floor. Her hands went up toward her face and almost covered it. Back twisted. Her face contorted as her jaw creaked opened until it looked unhinged. Eyes blurred, soft pained hazel glowed as the iris vanished, the pupil lifted away, and left nothing but black squiggles on a violet glow. Circe froze. Chien felt confirmed that this place was hell. And if this was hell, perhaps she deserved this.

Fingers pushed back the hammer of the gun.

“I don’t know what you did to deserve this, but you must have been one evil witch,” he hesitated and pulled the gun away, “You’re not my responsibility.”

Someone approached. Once he heard the first step and turned, they came out of the showers. Two ladies approached and the gun failed to intimidate them. One of them had a pile of slightly glowing gold coins in her right hand.

“Well what do we have here? You trying to steal my prize. No, no, no, we’re not doing that. What do you say Lizbet?”

The pain ornament glowed in the truck behind Chien as he aimed his weapon. The team stood under a mage light. It was the first time he’d seen anything well lit since he’d left the cave. The woman who spoke had black braided hair and stood just slightly taller than him, while the one wearing tied shirts and a sleeveless top stood slightly shorter. The shorter girl had tattoos. A sleeve of flowing skulls covered her right arm from the elbow to her slender shoulder.

“I say this one should step aside and put that piece away if he values his life. We didn't come to this stink hole for no reason. He’s more than welcome to watch us work.”

Chien frowned and stared over his gun and walked backwards to get himself out of the way, “I have no interest in the girl or the prize.”

They didn’t know who he was or what his powers were, but he hadn’t been around to hear their names either. Fighting had no predictable outcome. He put the gun away as he walked back into the shadows to observe the end of this dying girl. Without the piece, he’d be better able to use his real powers if he needed them. Though they were barely even tested. Besides, he wanted to look up Lizbet.

The thicker woman approached the rear door first. He watched.

Janele reached for the figure sitting on her knees at the rear exit. The skittering series of candy roaches didn’t register as a threat while she grabbed Circe by the wrist and lifted her arm. A harsh ragged whisper escaped he wounded woman’s parched lips.

“I don’t want anyone to die...”

Janele laughed as she stretched Circe’s arm upwards until she heard the shoulder pop, “I think this log is perfect for training.”

A loud stomping from the roof of the vehicle caused them to glance upward. A red goblin jumped over their heads. It landed behind them, bare feet splashed as it touched down with the stone dagger in its right hand.

“Stava! Stava! Stava! Bleaufergut debilboap!”

The goblin charged at Lizbet, who clutched the coins in one hand. In her left hand a twirling pen appeared between her fingers.

“I’ve been itching for a chance to use this.”

Skill Description Capture Via Contract Novice 01:

Can force a non-contestant being into a contract without their consent once a month if their overall level is less than half of yours.

She tossed the pen at the goblin. It flung straight towards him but he dodged it, or so he thought. Ink spewed from the point and formed into a net that lashed over the creature and tangled its limbs. The goblin rolled in the shallow sewage. It flailed about with the dagger atempting to cut the ink net, which restricted until the ink absorbed into its skin.

Lizbet laughed, “It worked? It worked! The little guy is under contract!”

She bounced over to the red goblin, “You just stand here and be a good boy until I give you an order, okay? You’re mine now. I own you.”

Skill Description Contract of Debt Novice 01:

Can make one spiritual contract a month. Chains formed via contract are more powerful than verbally formed chains. The power and ability of the chains depend on the wording of the contract. Lenient contracts provide more power but are easier to break. Harsh contracts are difficult to break but give less power.

She gave a little tug on the spiritual chains connecting them, which force the goblin to nod in agreement. Circe glanced back at the cup of clean water and the bowl of crumbs as Janele gripped her arm tightly. The half-moon eyes on her body glowed ever angrily as the tendrils licked.

Janele felt a surge of pain up her arm. She responded by grappling the woman with both hands. The full power of Janele’s muscular body sent Circe airborne behind the truck. The goblin watched with a despairing frown. Lizbet looked up at her target with a big smirk as golden lucky coins piled in her right hand.

“I cast Lucky Coin!”