Washington, D.C., pre-Thanksgiving 2055
The trees had dropped most of their leaves.
Bare branches cast gnarled shadows on the wet sidewalk like undead skeleton monsters.
Reds, oranges and yellows muddled together into a vaguely brown mush underneath their boots.
Procrastinating squirrels and chipmunks chittered as they scampered up and across overhead as they raided the caches of their more wise brethren, who had prepared early for the coming winter.
“Unfair,” Alin muttered.
The gray wafted around him in irregular-sized and moving tendrils rather than an all encompassing fog to make it theoretically harder to track them to him.
He touched the raiders, draining them of their stamina to give the defenders an insurmountable edge.
Blood and fur stained the hollowed chambers within the wood, but in the end all received the fates they deserved.
There was something to be said about nature taking its course, but was he not part of nature?
At least he had accomplished something.
Months of failure had been gnawing at his bones, so to speak.
He had mapped several ritual circles across the enemy’s capital, but none had been the central one.
That much had been made clear by the fact that he could follow the threads linking each circle to each other and flowing out of the city to the rest across the land.
Frustration had slowly morphed into worry when he had noticed that there was another thread from each circle.
This one led inward, remaining in the city’s boundary.
Except— except these threads sometimes led to nothing, as if suddenly snipped by a grandmother’s scissors.
Then, they’d reappear somewhere else in the city.
There had been no discernible pattern.
Times and places varied.
From important government locations, like the White House or one of the monuments, to commonplace, like a random park or store.
The obvious next step was to jump on it the next time it reappeared, but there was that saying about grabbing a tiger by the tail to think about.
Searching while remaining undetected made it all the more difficult.
Finding it wasn’t the end of the Quest.
It had to be destroyed.
“Yeah, dude, I get that,” Steph said. “We’re hardened, elite mercenaries and we’re carrying bags for interns. I mean, it’s not a bad view.”
“They are at least six years younger than you. Some are also under-aged.”
One of the congresswoman’s regular government provided security detail flicked a backward glance filled with so much disdain that he wouldn’t have been surprised if Steph had gone down like a hook to the jaw had snapped his head to one side.
There were Skills like that or auras and such.
Steph chuckled weakly and mouthed an apology to the hard-eyed woman.
Months of working together and the security detail still hadn’t warmed up to the Mist Spekters, which was fair seeing as how they hadn’t either.
“Mouths shut, yeah?”
“You got it, lieutenant!” Steph mimed zipping his lips.
Alin probed his surroundings with the gray, watching out for potential threats to his ostensible charges— Milly and the congresswoman’s newer interns— while searching for that elusive presence the ritual circle threads led to within the city.
Not that he expected to find it in a shopping center.
No hidden bunkers underground.
The subway was likewise several blocks away, which meant that it was only sewers and a maintenance tunnel or two, which he cleared as he walked.
He half-listened to Luzi’s and Milly’s conversation about how the city’s stores worked.
Truth was Luzi already knew, but as the Mist Spekter’s historian it was good cover for her to be interested in such things. It helped that she was genuinely curious and intended to use the research for her future writings in case suspicious members of the security detail decided to deploy a Skill or spell in hopes of catching her out.
Another reason why they kept their distance from them.
He marked the guard towers at the corners of the parking lot with clear lines of fire down every possible avenue of approach from the streets.
The lot and the buildings were protected by thick iron poles stabbed deeply into thick concrete blocks and topped by razor wire.
A touch with the gray revealed a weak shock enchantment on the fence.
More armed guards patrolled the lot and stood at the entrances of every store and rooftop where a few more armored towers had been erected.
He had noticed that the enemy’s capital favored heavily visible defenses for their shopping centers compared to what he was used to back home.
The difference was that his home was more concerned about the rare wandering monster attack while the enemy clearly had an eye at repelling people.
It took a moment for the guards to wave them through as Milly presented her credentials.
He remembered the first time and the half hour it took for the guards to thoroughly search him and the other Mist Spekters.
Now, all he had to do was hold his government issued ID up to be scanned by one of the guards.
A nod of recognition from the old man and he was through.
Last as usual.
Another check at the grocery super store’s front door and they were finally in to do what they had come for.
“Why are we even doing this in person?” True to form, Steph couldn’t keep it shut for long. “They deliver, right? I remember taking deliveries at the door or driving up around back. The staff loads it right into trunk.”
Alin gestured at Milly directing two young men, both with camera’s. One for pictures and one for video.
“Oh…” Steph shrugged. “I don’t get it?”
“The congresswoman’s Thanksgiving Day Feast for the less fortunate.”
She had made the announcement at an event in a neighborhood quite a distance from her home.
Which had been so strange for him and his friends to see first hand.
There were no ‘less fortunate’ people back home.
Everyone had what they needed to live comfortably without hunger or worrying about shelter or medicines.
It just made sense to set it up that way when there was enough to worry about on account of the spires.
“Yeah and?”
“I think it’s called a ‘photo op’.” He had vague memories of his long ago class on the political system of pre-spires America. “Rich people donated to that fundraiser last month for this so they can feel good about themselves and distract from the question of why they have so many points in the first place. The congresswoman pitches in with her own money and points and organizes the whole thing for much the same reason. Plus, the political cachet, so to speak.”
“For, like, votes and junk?”
“Which is why they’re filming and taking pictures of every step in the process. Have to have proof and it makes for good campaign material.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember any of that from school.”
“You could pay more attention in the briefings.”
“I do… for the really important stuff. Like, all the fight-y stuff. I’m all over that!”
Milly sent a few interns back out with a camera intern to grab a few shopping carts while she posed with clipboard in hand for the other camera intern as she gave instructions to everyone like a captain of a mercenary company about to attack a spawn zone.
“Hey,” Steph nudged him in the ribs. “It sounds like she’s splitting them up. That wasn’t part of the plan.”
Alin sighed.
“The price of command,” Steph said solemnly.
He approached, carefully moving past the security detail.
It wouldn’t do to reveal his superhuman strength by actually pushing or even merely brushing past them.
“Excuse me, miss.”
“One second,” Milly smiled brightly.
He had never seen her once show anything other than a pleasant or downright happy face.
“Why don’t you go plan how to frame the shots for the turkeys?”
The camera guy nodded and strode down the aisle importantly.
“Do you have some good ideas, lieutenant? Changed your mind about being in the shots? That handsome face shouldn’t be hidden behind that helmet!”
“Yeah, not interested. Operational sec—”
Milly pouted.
A carefully crafted and cultivated look.
She wasn’t fooling him.
None of them did.
It seemed that everyone older than a child in and around the political apparatus of the enemy government presented a different face depending on what benefited them in the given situation.
The ones really good at it could make all of them look natural.
At least from his, admittedly, short experience of a few months.
“Opsec, I know, I know.” She wiggled her fingers. “Daddy and Mommy are always saying that when they don’t want to share. So, what can I do for you?”
“You’re splitting up the shopping teams.”
“Yes… and?”
“That wasn’t the plan. We shouldn’t split the defense.”
She looked at him like he was the teenager being unrealistic about things rather than the opposite, which was how it actually was.
“Lieutenant, moving in one huge group is going to make getting good footage impossible. Not only that, it’ll also disrupt the other shoppers.” She quirked her head to the side. “Do you really want to inconvenience them?”
Said shoppers were already having to push their carts around them.
“Agreed on the latter part. Which is why I had suggested not taking such a large group in the first place.”
“They need experience and they wanted to contribute to this worthy cause. Do you want to take that away from them, lieutenant?” She quirked her head the other way like some kind of owl as she directed his gaze to the eager interns.
“Divide the shopping list. Two interns per cart with one bodyguard. The rest of us will watch all the entrances.”
“Oh. My. God! There’s, like, already soldiers guarding, like, everything! Didn’t you see them?”
The professional mask slipped just a bit.
“Our contract includes guarding duties, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“I only have two cameras.”
“Two carts out at a time. Take turns. Everyone will get enough camera time.”
Milly pouted but acquiesced.
She didn’t know that he knew that the congresswoman had strictly instructed her to defer to the Mist Spekters when it came to security matters. This included putting them ahead of the government provided security detail.
Another source of friction.
He followed Milly, an intern that looked more concerned with the camera guy capturing her best side, which was apparently her right one, not that there was an actual difference from the left that he could see, and Luzi, who had a notebook and pen in hand as she passive aggressively needled Milly.
“The prices are significantly higher than in the stores where I used to live,” Luzi said. “What’s the reason for that? I mean—” she picked up a block of cheese. “—exact thing back home costs 2 Universal Points to restock. Depending on the store, it’s 3 or 4 Universal Points, never more. And some stores owned by, uh… some people… it cost 2 points or nothing. We also stockpile and periodically get them for free.”
“Oh, well, that’s not how we do things here.” Milly sniffed. “The owners deserve to profit. Otherwise they won’t be able to maintain the stores. There’s all sorts of expenses beyond just restocking the items, you know?”
“The spires fills the shelves up automatically on reset time.”
Milly consulted the list on her clipboard and directed the intern, who moved like she was one of those models he had seen walking down an aisle a few weeks ago at some kind of show for clothing the congresswoman had attended a few weeks ago.
It wasn’t a completely foreign concept to him.
There were such things back home.
He had simply never paid any attention to them.
The experience had been new and strange.
He couldn’t help but smile at how the intern somehow managed to keep her good side always facing the camera guy while taking items from the shelves and putting them into the cart with the grace of a swan.
“Ah!” Milly pointed at a grocery store staffer coming out of the back to begin refilling an empty section of cold meats. “Shelves must be filled all day. We need employees for that. And employees are paid. We’re not slavers.”
“Mmm…” Luzi approached the staffer as Milly’s facade slipped into a frown for a split-second. “Excuse me, can I ask you a few questions?”
“Um… sure.”
The staffer, whose name was Dave according to his name tag, was an older man.
Dark skinned.
Bald.
Thin verging on gaunt.
Bent by age and worse things.
Alin had touched Dave through the gray.
No threatening thoughts or emotions.
Tired, so very tired.
Illness.
Growths spread throughout the body.
Signs of treatment, but sporadic and not at all similar to the types the hospitals and healers back home employed.
Dave’s diseased and healthy cells both showed signs of damage.
Alin steadied his expression.
He knew for a fact that the enemy’s hospitals had received both the knowledge and materials to treat a wide variety of the disease more humanely and effectively than flooding the body with radiation.
And, yet, Dave bore no signs of that.
Shit was fucked as his uncle would say.
He made a mental note to slip Dave a message before leaving.
“First of all. Feel free to not answer anything you don’t feel comfortable with,” Luzi said.
“Don’t think I care too much about that sort of thing, miss?”
“Luzi, pleased to meet you, Dave, correct?” She stuck her hand out and nodded at his name tag.
“That’s right.” Dave smiled despite the pain. “So, what can this old man help a pretty young lady like you with?”
“It’s about your work. You see, I grew up in a different place and I was wondering how different it was. Are you paid?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“In Universal Points or that weird paper money they use here?”
Dave laughed.
“You really aren’t from around here. Where you from?”
“California.”
Dave’s eyes widened.
“I had family there. From before…” his eyes grew misty. “Really? You’re from there? I thought—” his eyes noticed Milly, then slid to the hard-eyed member of the government security detail standing over her shoulder. “Never mind.”
“If you give me their names, I can try to find out… about them,” Luzi said. “No charge. No obligations or anything. Completely free.”
“I—” eyes shifted to the hard-eyed man.
Alin stepped forward to block the line of sight.
“I’ll write it down,” Luzi said.
The old man rattled of several names as Luzi scribbled into her notebook.
She also took down his contact information.
“You had some questions, ma’am?”
“Um… so, how much do they pay you?”
“5 Universal Points a day.”
“How many hours is that?”
“10.”
“How about days?”
“Monday through Saturday.”
Luzi pretended to be surprised.
They weren’t.
They had been fully briefed on the socioeconomic conditions of the different classes of their enemy’s society.
“That’s not a lot at all,” Luzi said.
Milly cleared her throat.
Alin turned to block and distract with some of his concerns about the operation while the camera guy and the intern continued their little fashion and grocery shopping show.
Meanwhile, Luzi continued her interview of Dave for historical purposes.
“It’s not all bad. I get enough little Quests throughout the day and the owner lets me keep most of the points I get from them.”
“Could you give me an example?”
“Well,” he pointed at the boxes on the cart next to him, “if I can empty the whole pallet in the back in an hour I get 10 points.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t be wasting you’re time then.”
He waved a log of shaped breakfast sausage. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty of time and I still get points even if I don’t finish. It’s, like, I do half the pallet then I get 5 points.”
“Proportional rewards.” Luzi nodded at the knowledge she already had. She made a show of doing math in her head. “Is that enough points to live? You have to buy your food and pay rent, right?”
“Yup. Points are tight, but me and my wife make it work.” Dave shrugged.
“That’s— I’m sorry. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging, but,” she leaned in and lowered her voice, “we don’t have anything like that back where I’m from. There are so many empty houses and apartments. People can live anywhere they want. They just have to pay points for upkeep. And no one works 10 hours a day, 6 days a week on stuff like this,” she gestured toward the cold meats. “I mean, some people do, for the Quests and points like you, but it’s all basically extra and they might only do it on a per Quest basis. An hour a day or less. 10 points is enough to cover food for an entire day.”
“That does sound wonderful, ma’am.” Dave’s eyes fell.
“Er… yeah, sorry about that. Have you thought about moving?”
That shut Dave up.
“Sorry, ma’am, but I have to work. I can feel my manager’s eyes on my back.”
There was a Skill that did just that.
“Thank you for answering my intrusive questions, sir,” Luzi said with a smile. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can about your family.”
“Appreciate it, miss, but I ain’t holding up much hope, so don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble.”
The shopping party moved on.
Alin lingered a step or two and slipped a piece of paper he had surreptitiously scribbled on as Luzi and Dave spoke into the old man’s pocket.
It felt like Dave had less than a year even with whatever sporadic treatment he was getting.
The enemy kept the best from people like Dave..
Theft was out of the question.
They’d notice.
Furthermore someone like Dave getting healing would draw attention, which would lead to them.
Couldn’t risk the mission for one old man.
He had to set something else up.
People went missing everyday in Washington, D.C.
They turned up dead or never seen again.
Victims of crime or worst things.
Two more wouldn’t be remarkable.
His dad couldn’t enter city limits, but that didn’t stop them from getting someone out for his dad to pick up.
The gray would shroud them from the American’s surveillance systems.
----------------------------------------
Southern California, pre-Christmas, 2055
“Love! Come look!”
Nila’s hand barely shook as she stroked paint across a large canvas. Healing had been long and slow. The demigod had broken her back and done something that stymied quick healing methods and left her with lasting nerve damage that had taken over 2 years to just get close to her old baseline. She had only started walking without help from the exoskeleton 6 months ago.
“Well! What do you think? He’ll like it, right?” Pride and uncertainty warred on his wife’s face and her surface thoughts, but above it all was excitement.
He felt the same way.
Messages were no substitute for actual face time with their son.
In a way, she had it worse, since he had been able to do a few short mindscape conversations.
“I can tell that’s our son. And the landscape is accurate. So, I pronounce it good! You’ve really gotten good at this fast!”
His wife had taken up painting as both physical and mental therapy on top of everything else they had worked with to leave the trauma the demigod had inflicted behind.
She had weathered it better than others, which had left him relieved and guilty.
The demigod had broken so many and stolen their futures.
Madalena, Aims and a few others were still in that bastard’s grasp, being inflicted with—
He focused and calmed.
Anger led to desperation, which led to reckless action, which tended to make things worse.
Patience.
His son’s search was progressing.
“Earth to Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“So, what do you think? Will he like it?”
“He’ll appreciate the gesture and it’s good, legitimately.”
“But?”
“Um…” He hesitated. “The subject matter.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. It’s just… why choose that time?”
“Why not? He was very brave and more importantly, cute.”
“You know that is still very embarrassing for him.”
“Why?”
“Chickens.”
“And I painted him conquering his fear of them.”
“He slipped and fell face first into the mud a few seconds after that.” He regarded the painting. “Yup.” The memory was clear. Their son had chased the chickens away for the very first time around the house’s corner only to fail to mind the footing. He had intervened before the chickens could launch their counterattack. “We all laughed.”
“Yeah. That was mean. Your mom was really mad about that.”
“Well, she was just guilty cause those were her chickens.” He peered closer at the painting. “You even got them all accurately. That’s Polkadot, Fluffmonster and Chicken-That-Isn’t-A-Chicken.” He listed the rest of the long dead flock. “That one was the worst.” He pointed at the black Chicken-That-Isn’t-A-Chicken. “Nope, not a true chicken, more like evil incarnate. How’d you remember them all?”
“I didn’t. I asked your mom for pictures for reference and she sent me, like, a hundred. I wouldn’t have been able to capture that farm house and the chickens without them.”
His grandparent’s had owned a large farm in Mindanao among their several properties throughout the old country.
Mostly chickens had been raised on said farm.
Though all of that had been lost when the spires had appeared.
“Not to minimize all the hard work you put into this, but maybe we leave it here.”
Eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Where’s he going to put it?”
“He’s got an apartment.”
“Which he might have to leave at a moment’s notice or there’s a non-zero percent chance that it could be destroyed.”
She jabbed the paint brush toward him like blade. “He can put it in a bag of holding.”
“He might not have the time and if he takes the time it could cost him or one of his teammates.”
She grumbled.
“The food should be good as a Christmas present, right?” Cal jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to the table filled with Filipino and Chinese food. All of their son’s favorites. “Not a lot of authentic stuff in D.C.”
She grumbled some more.
“You can give it to him when he gets back?”
She grumbled harder.
“We’ll bring it with us so you can show him… and then bring it back with us? Please.”
Grumbles ceased.
A curt nod.
“What about the rest of the things I want to give him and Kat?”
He sensed incoming grumbles, but had no choice but to face them.
One could only flee their fear for so long.
They had to face them eventually.
“We’ve picked the items that won’t draw excess attention. If they suddenly have super powerful items beyond what is expected for their supposed level and their company’s level people will start asking questions. They will want to take said items. They will look to recruit. And any number of things we don’t want happening to them. Worst of all, it won’t take much effort on the demigod’s and the eidolons’ part to trace the origins back to us if we simply give them over. The best we can do is arrange for sales through the spires marketplace and even then that doesn’t remove the issue that items of great power drawing others to them like vultures to a carcass.”
“Please don’t talk about our son and his friends in those terms.”
“I’m sorry. That was a horrible analogy.”
“Fine. I don’t want to fight over this.” His wife brightened. “It’s almost Christmas and we’re going to see our Boy! So excited!” She turned back to her painting. “I think this wall needs a little more shading.”
He approached her from behind and wrapped her up in a hug, kissing her on the cheek.
“It’s good, Love. Remember what Bob Ross says?”
“What? I put happy little trees in the background. See?”
“I do see that. They’re very good. Really look like real trees. But that’s not what I meant. What I meant was that painting’s done when it’s done.”
“He did not say that.” She elbowed him in the ribs before sinking back into the embrace, molding her body to his, relaxing and allowing him to hold most of her weight as she continued to paint.
“Maybe not exactly, but the sentiment’s there. Besides, we’re leaving in a couple of hours. Don’t you have to seal it?”
“I can take it downstairs to the Threnosh. They can dry, seal and dry again in less than half an hour.”
“They’re busy.”
“Nuh uh. I already reserved a time slot.”
“Well, okay then.” He nuzzled her neck. “I think it’s done, which means we have time to, uh, do stuff.”
She giggled. “It does look good, doesn’t it? My best work!”
“Best work… so far!”