19.1 BA: T&Cs
Sketchy scribbles away on the Contract with perfect penmanship.
“What do you want?” Maeven speaks from the other side of the table. Babda’s office is a metal box that makes up the second floor of the warehouse, accessed by a narrow staircase.
He stares at her from his chair.
“I want a veil.”
The other assignees are standing behind her.
“If you were the army I would have declined. Do you know why?” He taps on the desk. “Nobody cares about the Reserve. Not the United Lands, not the media, not the humanitarian institutions, nobody.” He opens his hands. “Yet, the VR has gained the trust of Mortareste.”
Ina folds her arms.
“If I win, the Reserve will assist us in eliminating our national police force and afterwards leave Mortareste once and for all. Write this down I want this on the paper: Mortareste South Police Centre including all participating officers, Mortareste Police HQ in Al Rimal. These are to be entirely extinguished, at minimum.”
That’s practically free reign for the Black Ammunition to hoard the fire power of an entire nation, and a terrifying prospect. The Reserve will be finished. But Babda doesn't have the same Intuition she has. He doesn’t see the statures of Will before him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be arching so close over the table.
“Okay,” she says.
“And one more thing. I would like you to battle me.”
“No,” she says, “Once the Contract is signed, I won’t be able to intervene.”
His eyebrows sink. “Why not?”
“Because I’m the Enforcer.”
Babda glances down at the Contract, to her full name MAEVEN RIEL written adjacent to the title, ENFORCER. It seemed like the most thorough thing to do, to specify the Enforcer in the case that there was no pre-existing entity tied to the insignia. She still feels herself feigning the confidence, having never seen a Contract like this work in action before.
Babda lets out a sort of wheeze of a laugh.
The reaction is concerning. Entertainment and intrigue, that’s what his Resonance is giving off. As an established criminal, Babda has likely witnessed a Will Contract before. She hopes that laugh doesn’t mean they’ve done something wrong.
“You can fight Ina and Hara. They’re exceptional Users,” says Maeven.
He glances at both of the Sand members. “Ina and Hara. Very well.”
Sketchy slides the Contract to Babda and he signs it, small sparks emitting from the paper with each stroke. Ina signs on behalf of the assignees, and at the last flourish of her signature, Maeven feels like she’s sucked into another dimension.
Babda’s office spins out of view. Lines of black and white whip around her like a hurricane. She glances down. She’s still sitting, but she doesn’t feel the chair, nor the ground. She can’t see the assignees. Something is ringing in her ears: a disorienting chorus of words uncanny enough to sound human.
The shake of hands form a bridge. It’s a promise to peace but over a sort of—undercurrent of rebellion.
She’s losing it. The Contract’s Will is pulling her to some incomprehensible dimension. Maeven centres on her Will. She imagines breathing in her smoky Resonance and for the moment it flickers her back to the chair, the ground, the metal office.
“Maeven, are you okay?” Forrest asks. His hand on her shoulder.
Her head feels awful. She can hear something like the constant scratch of a pen over cardstock. “Headache,” she ends up telling them.
Maybe that’s what Babda’s reaction was for. It seems being an Enforcer isn’t as straightforward as writing your name on a piece of paper. She’s not sure how long she can withstand this, but she’ll do it.
No room for failing.
All the while Babda is stood up, picking at the flecks of wood on his blazer.
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19.2 BA: Shipping panels
They’re back on the main floor of the warehouse. The rest of the BA members have been dismissed outside and ordered not to intervene. Three plastic cases are lined up behind Babda near the back wall. A gun User. He’s carefully clicking a magazine into a handgun.
Ina and Hara stand on the opposite side of the warehouse, cracking their knuckles and warming their feet. The rest of the assignees sit on shipping crates by the wall, in the middle of the battleground, though closer to their teammates.
There is something cold and empty about the silence as Babda’s chamber clinks into place. Since the Contract’s signing, Maeven has been silent. Her head throbs with every movement.
“When you’re ready big guy,” Hara shouts.
“Ladies first,” he replies.
Ina doesn’t give him a second. She launches forward.
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Babda fires immediately, angles, then fires again. Ina weaves around the bullets, determination in her eyes. Once she’s closed enough of the distance, she flips over the man and crouches just behind him. She pulls at his undershirt, swipes her hands through.
Already? Maeven leans on her elbows, fingers over her lips as she fights the force of the Contract’s beckoning. Hara looks offended.
Babda moves his handgun across his stomach to point it behind him. Seeing the barrel, Ina hesitates and the boa constrictor curling up Babda’s shirt drops and goo’s away. Another shot. She just misses the bullet.
“Why’d she stop?” Win says.
“The gun’s enforced with Will. Users aren’t immune to that,” Maeven answers. It hurts. It feels like her brain is splitting when she talks.
Ina leaps away from the bullets. Soon enough she’s back to where she started next to Hara.
Babda looks down at his gun. “Hmph.” He holds it in front of him. “Reacher HM5110. Serial number 89265LB. Famous for its use in historical wars pre-dating the Western Convergence.” He turns around, wrapping it in a cloth he takes from his blazer, “Minor oxidation on its surface…” he mutters.
“What makes you so sure they can beat him?” Win then questions.
“It’s all about Resonance. The ambient energy that projects from a source of Will.” She points at Babda. “Do you sense his Resonance?”
“A little.”
“Now compare it to Ina’s and Hara’s. You have to use Intuition. There’s a difference.”
Win concentrates for a moment, then looks back at Maeven. “How do I use Intuition?”
“Think of yourself as a fly on the wall. When you’re that small, everyone else is bigger and louder, right? And this means you see everything in greater detail. Focus your intentions as if you want to know what they’re hiding.”
Win appears to concentrate again. “I guess they do feel a little stronger.”
“Much stronger. Ina and Hara come from Academies. You can tell Babda didn’t. Adi would say the same thing.”
Babda replaces his handgun with a larger firearm from one of the plastic cases. Concerningly, his Will seems to grow as soon as he places his hands upon it.
From the other end of the warehouse, Hara and Ina toss a whispered argument between each other.
“You said I go first!” says Hara.
“I said I go first!” says Ina.
“No you didn’t woman! Can’t we stick to the dang plan?”
She can see Ina’s mild embarrassment “Alright,” she complies, watching Babda with the rifle in his hands. She swerves her head to the side as he shoots and a bullet passes by her head, missing. The walls of the warehouse rattle from the sound then splat! a thin splash of blood erupts from Ina’s cheek.
“What the?” says Adi.
Hara whistles with fingers in her mouth. “Come and get me!” she exclaims, waving. Ina wipes her face and examines the red on the back of her hand as Optimist advances.
Like waiting for a bug to land on his bullet, Babda calmly directs his barrel. The shots get close, and the time it takes for him to reload is swift and fluid, it barely increases the chances for Hara to successfully dodge.
Still, the Optimist is in her element. She evades across the battlefield with expertise, soaring and tumbling to slowly close in on the opponent.
Hara shields herself behind a pile of shipping panels, when Maeven notices that it drops slightly in height. She’s swiped one from the stack. Reinforcing it with Optimisation, she hurls one of the panels at Babda’s head, forcing him to duck, and as soon as the wood swipes over his eyes, Hara’s fist is already inches from his face with 37 dodges lodged within it.
He’s hit. His head pushes to the side; but his weight isn’t thrown off. Babda turns after the blowback, looking at Hara without a trace of distress.
Hara blinks mid-air. All at once, her body sprouts with blood-red micro cuts across her skin.
She hadn’t really accumulated those dodges. Hara was hit. Babda digs his fist deep into her gut and she launches to the far wall, denting it with the sound of crashing metal.
Babda resets his feet. “The SC-15. Serial number E40887. Perfect condition despite pre-dating the Eastern Convergence. This one was owned by a Will User, who used the grooves of the bullets and combined it with their Will. This results in a sort of outward slicing effect you just felt.”
Hara didn’t have to touch the bullet to get hit. She just had to be in range.
He places the rifle back in its case and grabs the last one from down the row. A machine gun with a rotating barrel. It’s so hefty and big that Babda lets it hang by his waist instead of bringing it up to his shoulder. Bursting with Will, his Resonance intensifies with it.
“He’s gaining confidence,” Adi says. Win looks at her for clarification. “Your Will can get stronger the more you think you’re going to win,” she explains.
Maeven was never fond of the automatic boost in power bestowed to Users of a natural ego.
Each minute this drags on, her worry grows.
They could have finished him already.
“Now,” he starts. “Let’s end this quickly.” But instead of aiming forward, the weapon swings up, the circle of barrels pointing at his own neck. During his hobbyist monologue Babda failed to notice Ina sneaking up behind the shipping panels and touching the back of his hand. Maeven sees the mound of the green viper writhing under his suit.
The bullets erupt on his face.
BRRRRRR!
Babda stumbles on the ground, sending rounds through the walls and ceiling. He holds his head, rattled, and green goo pours out of his sleeve. It seems Ina’s viper has already been fully expended.
Rain gasps. “Dammit!” Adi curses.
“He’s fine?” Win exclaims, fingers twitching in incomprehension. The User looks nothing but a bit tossed around. His face is a little bruised. No blood.
“The weapon is powered by his own Will. And he’s smart enough not to hurt himself with it,” Adi says.
Smart enough to pull back your own punches is another way to put it. Ina needs to wise up, or she’ll turn Babda’s confidence into a feedback loop. The Subjectionist looks like she understands this, as she reaches her hand to touch the back of her neck.
A different snake begins to materialise, twirling up her legs to bite the spot she just touched; this time, on herself. Ina’s Will grows at a frightening rate and the large stretch of glossy brown that begins to flare from her spine becomes unmistakable.
A king cobra.
“You can do it Ina!” Forrest shouts.
“Go Ina!” says Rain.
Ina whips forward, forcing Babda to get up and let go of his weapon. It swings by the strap as he shields himself. Ina tries to grab it. He tugs it out of reach.
Ina hits the gas. She throws a combination of punches, some kicks to the body. But every odd punch Babda lands back seems to hit harder, push her back further. Maeven watches the machine gun. Babda shoulders his weapon away whenever Ina tries to get close.
Luckily, Ina is faster, much faster than before. Her strikes are beginning to draw puddles of blood on the concrete. Babda can’t keep up.
Ina is blown a few steps back by a front-kick. Babda raises the gun and pulls the trigger, emitting a sickening whirr along with flashes of gunpowder. Ina holds her forearms up before she’s showered.
Rain rises, worried but hesitant to get close.
The User scrutinises his weapon again.
“Babda!” says Maeven, her voice echoing through the warehouse.
He looks up. His nose is welted. Blood is running down from a deep gash on his forehead.
“What do you call that one?” she says.
A bloody grin. “This? This is called The Destroyer.” He pauses to change gloves. “Extremely rare. They stopped making them once they realised they belonged on aeroplanes.”
“How much does it cost?”
“More than you can afford, I’m sure.” he says, as he stalks towards Ina who’s behind stacks of broken shipping panels, out of view.
Maeven rushes out of her seat.
“What are you doing?” says Adi.
“The Eastern Convergence happened half a century before the Western Convergence,” she says.
“What?”
Maeven weaves through the shipping crates and finds Hara shaking her head awake, about to step in to fight again. She whispers something in her ear.