Washington, D.C., Summer 2055
The skies adjacent.
“This is a waste of time. Every minutes she’s in his hands—”
It was getting a bit warm despite the altitude.
“Why am I even listening to you? I can burn every politician and soldier. Destroy every monument. Until they give her back.”
“That’s a good way to achieve the opposite outcome. I understand how you feel. I’m there too.”
“It’s been days and you haven’t found her.”
“I’ve been over every piece of American territory once. I’ll do it over and over again until I do. Which is why this isn’t a waste of time. If I can narrow my search—”
“How about I narrow it by burning the White House down? That should encourage them to cooperate.”
“For the last time, they don’t know anything. They barely knew the details of the Austin attack.”
“About that… why’d you tell me not to destroy their stuff? I don’t care about all that garbage president douche said.”
“Optics.”
“Again, I don’t give a shit. Oh no! They’re all going to hate me!” Eron snorted.
“You planning on killing all of them?”
“Obviously not.”
“Don’t give them an ‘other’ to rally against.”
“I’d argue it’s too late for that. How many more years are you going to give them? They’re never going to be okay with peaceful coexistence. They’re not going to give up what they once had.”
“The older generations, sure, but the younger ones—”
“Are indoctrinated by the older.”
“Not all of them. There are those that can be convinced.”
“Yeah. Sure. But how many more of the people I actually care about are going to be murdered or kidnapped before that happens? That fucker murdered thousands of our people! People we promised to protect! Just because he could— and don’t even try to compare me to him. I’m specifically going to target things, not people.”
“Employees are a thing, you know? Just because someone is working in the White House doesn’t mean they’re equally guilty as the guys pushing the button.”
“Whatever, bro. You can just have them leave. I wouldn’t even argue against you emptying the whole place out. What matters is the message I’ll send when their precious White House is a smoldering ruin.”
“Do that and you hand them a blank check with the rest of the people. The voices we want to strengthen will be stamped out within a day.”
“Alright. Then let me fuck up the soldiers’ shit in Austin, like I have been.”
“Leave their stuff alone for now. It’ll embolden them. Once they start feeling better about bringing all their toys out of hiding then you can blow them up.”
“I can see the president right now. Smiling, smug bastard’s hitting on a young woman. She’s playing along, but she looks uncomfortable. How about I burn a hole through his desk? If only to help her out.”
“No.”
“She needs help, man.”
“Okay.”
A subtle thought slipped inside the president distracted him, directing him to the work on his desk.
“Good. Now, make him find Madalena. Better yet, make them all find her and attack the demigod while they’re at it. And don’t give me that slippery slope garbage like always. If it’s for our cousin I’ll dive headfirst into their shit level.”
“I’ve plumbed through all of their heads. I told you. They know nothing. And doing any of that will just get everyone killed.”
“Listen, that’s a price I’m willing to pay to get her back.”
“No, you listen, we’ll get her back, but I’m not doing any of that because it’s not necessary.”
“Yeah? How long are you willing to let her be tortured?”
“Torture won’t give him what he wants. If he wants answers then that’ll be the last tool he’ll use. Everyone knows you don’t get good answers through torture.”
“Unless the torture is the point.”
Well… he didn’t have an answer to that.
Suiteonemiades’ thoughts were hidden from him.
“Just… just float there and look angry. They’re about to—”
Golden portals opened before them.
Like giant gods’ eyes waking.
He tried to grab on to the divine energy, to find their origin points down in the city.
“I have come as requested.”
Kerkestis floated to him and bowed.
The rest of the eidolons fanned out behind, above and below her.
“There’s more of them everyday,” Eron grunted. “You, you, you, you and you.” He pointed. “I don’t recognize you. I do now.”
“Relentless one.” Kerkestis bowed again.
“Hey, tall lady. You’re more reasonable than most, so why don’t you tell me where Suiteonemiades is hiding. After that, we can get back to our adversarial, but not murderous relationship.”
“I don’t know.”
She turned her gaze toward Cal.
Well… she wasn’t lying.
Their opsec was impenetrable.
Blank spots in their memories like the usual.
Eron sighed theatrically.
“That’s a shame because it occurs to me that without people like you to run around above ground and do things, well, he can’t stay in hiding forever and I’ve decided I’m standing right here until his mole head pops up so I can whack it.”
The threat wasn’t subtle.
“Release the hostages to me,” Cal said flatly.
“That is the demand,” Kerkestis replied serenely. “What is your offer?”
“Continued existence.”
“The worth of our lives do not exceed the value of the hostages at this time.”
“Continued existence… for the demigods. Yes, I noticed you’ve slipped a few more into my world. Are they aware that Suiteonemiades is the only one with a helmet that can hide him from me? Shall I demonstrate?”
“That will not be necessary. Honored Suiteonemiades has charged me with negotiation. He offers conditional release and reparations for the casualties.”
“Funny word for innocent victims minding their own business when a bastard with piss flowing through his veins decided to murder them for ‘reasons’,” Eron said.
“It is war. You are young and inexperienced in its bloody ways for all that you think otherwise. You are learning a valuable lesson.”
“What are his conditions?”
“Your service.” Kerkestis held her hand out.
Gold light flashed.
When it died a glowing scroll sat in her palm.
“You may review at your leisure. Honored Suiteonemiades will allow 3 days. During which time the hostages will not be… questioned.”
He grabbed the scroll.
“Just give us the important points,” Eron said.
“You are not party to this negotiation. Just the Psionic Prime.”
“Summarize it for me, eidolon.”
“Very well. It is service in all things without limit or bargaining. The honored one commands, you obey. The agreement is for a century or until the day your wife dies.”
“You and I both know that contract lacks the magical power to force me to stick to it.”
“Indeed. There is one stipulation. Failure to adhere to the terms will result in the instant death of 50% of the adult population of the nation known as America or any of its future potential successors.”
“No way you got them to agree to that,” Eron said.
“It has been ratified by the government.”
“Sure, those assholes would, but I’m talking about the people. They wouldn’t sign that.”
“Agreement is implied by virtue of their oaths of citizenship. They select their representatives and leaders, therefore they are subject to the decisions made.”
Eron blinked. “That’s just evil. How much lower can you all sink? You’re in the mud, Kerkie. You’re ancestors are ashamed.”
“They were honored servants. Just as I am.”
“You serve garbage,” Eron laughed bitterly. “What does that make you?”
The newer eidolons bristled.
“There is one last offer I have been instructed to make.”
The Eidolon of Sunor waited for Cal to give her the okay to continue.
“A life for a life. For each life he took from you, you make take one from him. At your choosing.”
“A cheap price for him. He knows I would never accept that.”
“The offer exists nonetheless.”
“Wow. I was wrong. You can sink lower.”
Eron floated toward the eidolons, who regarded him like mice did a tiger.
“We’re supposed to be at war.”
Kerkestis gazed at him impassively.
“We are under truce.”
“For right now. After?” He shrugged. “I’ve been leaving you alone on purpose. Now that you have my cousin, I find the reasons for doing that less compelling. I’m thinking. One a day? Until they’re released. Unharmed.”
“Like I said, our lives are not equal to their value.”
“I can single-handedly destroy everything you’ve worked to build. Food supplies? Weapons? Ammo? Even their homes. America would have nothing by the end of the month. They’d be a wasteland of desperate survivors barely grinding out a poor semblance of life. What would your little pantheon do then?” Eron said.
“Irrelevant. Your threats are empty. Even if you act against your character, I believe that he wouldn’t allow it.” She slowly looked from Eron to Cal.
“I don’t know about that. You changed the paradigm by going after our family,” Eron said. “A girl’s in a coma with more broken bones than not. Our mother. People I personally care about. You hurt and murdered.”
“He’s right. In light of the recent escalation I have no choice but to respond in kind, Kerkestis. Who rules the pantheon? Sunor or Suiteonem?”
“You dare question the—” she snapped.
He silenced her with a thought.
“You’ve claimed that Sunor desires an ordered civilization. This isn’t it. And I will make sure it never becomes that unless he meets my demands. Return the hostages, unharmed or I will begin dismantling what you’ve built. And I will not confine myself to my world. Take that straight to your god. We both know that’s who you truly answer to.”
“There is only one answer. It has been determined. We mortals submit to the Gods’ will,” Kerkestis said.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Yes, well, mortals are fickle sorts, right? Let’s find out what it takes to change hearts and minds.”
“You guys aren’t safe behind your barrier,” Eron said. “It merely provides the illusion of safety.”
“This is over. Leave.” Cal waved a hand dismissively, like he was shooing an annoying fly.
Golden portals winked open and vanished just as quickly.
“Weird. Couldn’t see anything on the other side like the ones we use most,” Eron said. “Now what.”
“He won’t torture her, Aims and the other hostages.”
“That was the gunslinger guy, right? I remember him.” Eron mulled it over. “How sure are you?”
“They don’t know where he’s keeping them, but they’re certain that he wants them for information.”
“Yeah, no bets on what sort of information. Maybe you pull the plug on Boy’s Quest?”
“I’m considering it, but…”
“Man, that’s your son.”
“I can’t find the demigod. He’s the best chance. It’s even more critical with the hostages.”
“So, it’s a race between him finding out and Boy finding him? I don’t like it.”
“No one does.”
“Then I’ll turn up the heat. Make myself a real terror. If they’re looking to the sky then they won’t be looking at ground level.”
“Target the top percentile. Wealth and power. Politicians, higher level officers and so on. Hit a couple on a daily basis. No deaths.”
Eron rolled his eyes.
“We don’t want them replaced. The more scared they get easier it’ll be to turn them against each other and the fake gods. I’ll keep searching for them with all my eyes and ears.”
“He has to be keeping them in the bunkers. Only real possibility.”
“I’ve searched those.”
“Could be a newer, super secret bunker that is impenetrable to your powers. Might be made of the same stuff as his psychic-blocking helmet?”
“Everything we tried to track it down hasn’t worked.”
“I’m telling you, make that not-elf teacher do it. Least she could do after not helping fight the demigod. She was literally a few kilometers away.”
“She didn’t violate our agreement.”
“Then it’s a shit agreement.”
“Can we just… not argue about this?”
“Whatever, man.” Eron scowled. The air had grown progressively hotter around him. “Can I start?”
“I’ll give you a list of acceptable targets in an hour. I want to make sure we target the most deserving.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll ruin a monument or the Pentagon.”
“No—”
Eron waved dismissively. “I know, I know. We don’t do collateral damage.”
----------------------------------------
Old America, the Mid-Northlands, Summer-Fall 2055
“Hey?”
A boot nudged his.
Alin cracked an eye open from his pretend sleep.
He had gotten enough with the first few hours post sunrise, however, there was a rumor going around with the newbies that he was a vampire on account of always being on the night watch.
Several had out right asked him if he had figured out how to become a daywalker.
Which, as far as anyone knew, wasn’t a thing.
Regardless, it was unnatural that he only needed a few hours.
The curiosity was unavoidable since he didn’t volunteer his class or lack thereof to avoid getting tripped up by truth detection Skills or spells.
The official story was that he was much like the rest of the officers and a few others with mist or fog-based abilities.
Only Galen and his childhood friends knew the truth.
He feigned slow wakefulness.
“Huh?” He yawned, which was genuine.
Last night had been a difficult one.
A sudden monster attack of a surprisingly difficult level while they camped just outside an abandoned town turned spawn zone.
He had single-handedly prevented a possible company wipe by slowing the monsters to a near stop, giving the rest of the Mist Spekters time to wake up.
The effort had taken a lot out of him and in the desperate chaos he hadn’t taken enough back from the monsters.
“Tell me what you think of this?” Luzi held her journal up importantly, clearing her throat. “We stared down the empty road undulating to the horizon like a gray snake. Peaks on both sides loomed like a giant’s fingers threatening to crush us in its grasp. The night had been a bad one. Death stalked our trail and it had never gotten closer to slaking its thirst. Only one silent sentinel—”
“I’m going to stop you there.”
She looked at him expectantly.
“It’s, uh, good.” He shrugged. “But, not very, um, historical?”
“Well, I don’t want it to be dry.”
He recalled the history books he had to read back in kid school.
They had been exactly that.
He relayed his thoughts on the matter.
Luzi stared at him.
“We drove down the road. There were mountains on both sides. Monsters attacked us last night. Alin saved us, but now he’s being grumpy.” She raised a brow. “Dry enough for you?”
“Historical accounts are supposed to be factual, I think,” Nathan said.
The young man claimed he was an adult, which was true, barely.
One of the newbies they had picked up along their drive up to the capital.
They had to do it because mercenary companies, especially new ones, were always looking for recruits.
The risks were minimal because his dad cheated.
Everyone they picked up wasn’t a secret threat or potential spy.
Plus, they were generally decent people just looking for adventure or the ability to protect or make their loved ones’ lives better.
What they didn’t know was that them signing up got those loved ones priority tickets to the west coast when it came time to evacuate from the rabbit people hordes.
“What do you know about historian work, rookie?” Luzi said.
Nathan stammered.
“Leave the kid alone.” Alin sighed.
The truck rumbled.
It was a stiff ride in the back.
They had installed bench styled seats, but that was it for comfort.
“It’s a legitimate question,” Luzi said. “I’m not a snob. If the rookie has insights I don’t know about then I want to hear them.” She snapped her gaze to Nathan. “Well?”
“Uh… I dunno. It’s just like Alin said. I mean, like, the stuff I read in school wasn’t all like that stuff you wrote. Yours is more like poetry or something. Not that I know anything about that. I hated that class.” Nathan smiled weakly.
“There you go. You’re going to have to pivot to historical fiction or something.” Alin closed his eyes.
“Why not both?” Luzi shrugged and got back to scratching her pen on paper.
Mildly annoyed by the sound, he opened his eyes.
“How are you writing with all the noise and bumpiness?”
He remembered that the first few days out of Vegas had been rough for Luzi.
Word was that she had tried to read and write, but got motion sickness and spent more time puking out the back of the truck than one would’ve preferred.
“Skill,” she grunted.
“You guys have traveled a lot, right?” Elisa raised her hand.
“Don’t have to raise hands to ask questions, rookie,” Luzi said without looking up from writing history.
Elisa was even younger than Nathan.
She had obviously lied about her age, but his dad must’ve sent word to Galen to bring her on board for some reason.
The other rookies in the truck bed with them looked curious.
Alin decided that he was going to see if he could get them a spot in one of the more comfortable vehicles.
Several days sitting in the bumpy hell had to be enough hazing.
Alin chose his words carefully, not because of the rookies, but because of Milly.
The congresswoman’s aide had chosen to sit with them.
Ostensibly because the congresswoman wanted to hear the stories of the rookies and what their lives in their isolated small towns were like.
The better for the congresswoman to do congresswoman things for them.
More specifically, to get her name and image out to them for when it was time to run for higher office.
He didn’t need his dad’s info to figure that part out.
“Yes,” he said.
“So, um, are all the roads the same?” Elisa said.
“Why wouldn’t they be?” Luzi said.
“I don’t know. I’ve never gone far from my hometown and the roads are fine, but my grandpa was saying how the highways and freeways would’ve been all messed up. Cracked from weather and plants growing through them since there was no government to fix them,” Elisa said.
Luzi’s scratching suddenly stopped. “You know, that’s true. I’ve never thought about that.”
“Spires,” he said.
They didn’t know for sure, but it seemed likely that the spires handled maintenance when no one was looking.
It was the most logical explanation for how entire stretches of highway could be utterly destroyed in a fight between giant wandering monsters or simply walking on them only to be completely fine in the following days.
Such had been observed on several occasions.
His uncle may have also destroyed stretches of highway a couple of decades in the past out of intellectual curiosity.
Naturally, he didn’t share that part.
Milly cleared her throat and smiled brightly.
She was good.
It reached her eyes.
“We, I mean America, have allies from another world.”
That had either hit or miss for the congresswoman on their previous stops.
The old American government put a lot of effort into publicizing that fact to every settlement they could reach.
They used literature, recordings and anything else they could to show how they secured a great alliance with a mighty people.
It didn’t matter if the settlements accepted Rightful Destiny, were on the fence or rejected it. They all got the media.
Some destroyed the cellular towers the government set up or repaired to stop the potential for receiving broadcasts, but that didn’t stop the airdrops of pamphlets and smartphones pre-loaded with propaganda.
Sometimes there was more violence than that against property.
“And, um, there are rules that they can’t say too much, but the spires usually take a long time before, like, going completely hands-off on stuff like that.”
“Do you know how long?” Elisa said.
“It varies, apparently. Could be any day now or a few hundred years from now.”
“What about the Terminus thing?” Nathan said.
The answer was that they didn’t know.
Terminus worlds weren’t common and from what his dad had picked out of the many outworld invaders the history of the early years post-spires for such worlds had been, without exception, completely lost because of the sheer scale of the violence inflicted upon them.
“Ah, sorry, we don’t know if that changes things,” Milly said.
The truck jolted.
A pothole.
Ironic.
They, minus Alin, continued on with a rambling conversation.
Milly keenly extolled the virtues of old America.
Luzi grew increasingly agitated, but she managed to keep her mouth shut lest she blow their cover.
Rayna’s Rangers had an antagonistic relationship with old America on account of all their aggressive actions over the years, including the most recent attack that had claimed ranger and civilian lives, along with the kidnapping of a venerable elder ranger.
Sure, the old American’s hid behind a claim that it wasn’t them because no member of their combined armed forces had participated.
Bullshit was bullshit.
They fought side by side with harpies coming out of golden portals.
Had openly attacked his home, which they claimed was a terrorist organization training ground.
He consciously kept his anger away from Milly.
She was part of the ruling apparatus, but there was nuance to the levels of involvement.
He only hated Suiteonemiades.
There were other demigods, but he didn’t hate them as of yet.
They were just enemies.
“Where are we, Luzi?” he whispered.
“Still Oldhio. Hey? Should I mess with her?” She shot a significant look over to Milly, who was engrossed in a story re-telling what sounded like Alcaestus performing a great deed and being really hot while doing it.
That was another bastard on the personal shit list.
They had worked together in the Slasher’s Spree, but that didn’t quite cut it after the eidolon had attacked his home and people.
“Yes.”
Luzi cleared her throat. “Hey, Milly?”
“Yeah!” the young woman smiled.
“What’s up with the detour? I get that West Virginia’s mountain roads are more dangerous cause of the monsters and hill people ambushes, but we would’ve saved days if we had gone up through Virginia instead.”
“Your captain didn’t tell you?” Milly’s eyes darted to him.
“No, he did. We’re going to help a town or something cause the congresswoman’s doing a favor for another congressperson or something, right?” Luzi said.
“Um, yeah. That’s why.”
“Why’d she tell us to go north? It’s a longer path and I thought there was, like, an election or something? That’s passed by now.”
“Oh, well, the congresswoman wasn’t on the ballot. Her office is up next year. She’s traveling to campaign for that.”
“A year in advance?”
“Yup! The congresswoman basically has to campaign all the time.”
“Damn. That sounds messed up. How does she do her actual job then?”
“It’s difficult, but she works hard and has good Skills that help.”
“Cool, cool, cool. So… like, what’s up with this town we’re going to?”
“Um, I don’t know anything more than what the congresswoman told your captain and lieutenants.” Milly glanced at him again.
He studiously pretended to look toward the eastern mountain slopes for threats that were there, but too far or too slow to reach their convoy.
“Hey, I get it, opsec is a thing,” Luzi tapped her forehead with her pen. “But maybe you give me something and I give you something in return.” She brandished her journal. “I am writing a history of all this. I might be convinced to give you a good shout.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Elisa raised her hand, but brought it down quickly.
“Got something to say, rookie?” Luzi grunted.
“Um, isn’t history supposed to be the truth, like facts and stuff? That’s what my teacher said.” Elisa looked for support from the rest of the truck.
They demurred.
“Have you heard the saying?” Luzi said. “History is written by the winners.”
“Yes, but—”
“Rookie,” Luzi leaned toward her, “win and you can have the say.”
“That’s— not—” Milly frowned.
Luzi snorted. “What are you talking about? I’m pretty sure that’s how you guys write your histories.”
Alin nudged Luzi’s boot with his own and flashed a subtle hand sign disguised by covering a yawn.
“So? How about it, Mills? You scratch my back and I make you look real good?”
Milly crossed her arms under her chest and angled toward him.
He maintained eye contact.
“I really don’t know anything else and even if I did I wouldn’t sell information for any price,” Milly said.
He didn’t have the gray out, so he couldn’t suss out how honest the congresswoman’s aide was.
Steady eye contact with Luzi, but that could’ve just been good political training.
Being part of such a small team suggested Milly was competent at a minimum and nothing over the past few weeks had led him to think otherwise.
“Suit yourself.” Luzi shrugged. “So, rookies. Who wants to tell me their life story? I’m always looking for protagonists.”
Alin sighed.
“Luzi, true historical accounts don’t have protagonists.”
“Pfft! Shows what you know.”
Several hands rose hesitantly.