Now, Earth
“This guy?” Cal held up a page of card stock with a picture of a man.
Not a normal one. The man’s skin was translucent and glowing, bones and organs were plainly visible. He wore nothing except cargo shorts, which didn’t seem to be a problem judging by the small explosion across his back as he held another man up by the neck with one hand.
“How’d they get these pictures?” Nila stared at it in thought. “Is that Mad Max-looking guy on the ground dead? He’s dead isn’t he?” she said in growing horror.
Cal turned the picture for a better look, careful to block the writing on the back of the page. “He does seem to be limp,” he grimaced, “the guy who took this was lucky. They even got the fireball explosion… at least that’s what it looks like to me,” he shrugged. “There are people with some Technician Classes to get electronics, like cameras, computers and cell phones working. They do the maintenance on the cell towers. Unreliable connectivity between here and back north, but it was better than nothing. Apparently Eron was trying to get satellites working… I had no idea he could go into space.”
“He may have mentioned something about it, but since he doesn’t have classes nothing he tried worked even following the techs’ instructions,” Nila said.
“Hmm, so if we could get a tech up there…”
“I can see the hamster’s turning in your head,” Nila said. “Good idea, but we should focus on the Quest in front of us.”
“You got a Quest?”
“I have to defend from attack.”
Cal cursed. “Sorry… that means an attack is pretty much guaranteed. Maybe I can threaten these wannabe warlords to stay home.”
“I’d appreciate not having to fight them, but then you’d reveal the rangers’ plans and that seems like a bad thing, no?”
“Yes,” Cal sighed. “Well, I guess this is really happening. I got a Quest. You got a Quest. Everyone got a Quest. Best get back to the flashcards then.”
Nila studied the photo Cal was holding in front of her. “Warlord—”
“Can we call them something else? Warlord seems to big for how tiny and petty these people are. They’re really more like gangs.”
“What? Like, gang leader? Fine, gang leader, real name unknown, goes by X-Ray. Holds a few blocks of territory in Hawaiian Gardens, includes the casino and the strip malls nearby. Core of the gang numbers around 50, but is as large as 100 with people on the fringes. Estimates suggest that they can get that number up to 200, 250 by conscripting from the unaffiliated people in their territory, which estimates at 2000-2500 people.” Nila took a breath. “X-Ray,” she made a face, “make believe names sound really dumb when not in movies.”
Cal nodded slowly.
“He appears to have the ability to absorb attack spells without suffering damage. This appears to increase his strength and ability to take damage. Enough spells will make him strong enough to flip cars over and become bulletproof.”
Cal looked at the other pictures of X-Ray in action. “You’re right so far.”
“Suggested weakness is non magical attacks. He has been observed avoiding mundane weaponry when in a normal state. So, easy enough to deal with. Do not hit with magic, which is fine since I can’t do magic. All I have to do is punch him. Next,” Nila yawned.
“Okay, but remembered it’s been confirmed that he has mage classes in his gang—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nila waved a hand dismissively, “he’ll power himself up before a fight. Still doesn’t make a huge difference. I’m probably stronger, definitely faster. I’ll blitz him.”
Cal raised a brow. “I’m impressed with your terminology.”
“I’ve learned a lot of things while you were gone… so, next,” Nila snapped her fingers.
Cal held up another page of card stock.
“Oh this one,” Nila rolled her eyes, “the biker slash rock star except even dirtier looking.”
The man looked to be in his late thirties with long, lank blond hair. The picture showed him in mid slash with a machete. He wore dark leather clothing with a make-shift chainmail vest and a battered police-issue riot helmet. Dried blood covered every bit of the man.
“I feel like I need a tetanus shot just looking at him,” Nila shuddered.
“You probably will if you do end up fighting him,” Cal said. “That or healing.”
“This asshole has territory north of Long Beach State. His gang is smaller. About a core of 20 riding their motorcycles around a few blocks surrounding a Trader Joe’s. They spend most of their time testing the fringes of the university since it’s an encounter challenge now. They can handle a few human-sized gremlins thanks to Thousand Cuts’ ability,” Nila shook her head, “seriously, why do they give themselves such ridiculous names.”
“I don’t know,” Cal said flatly. “Please continue.”
“Fine, there’s not enough information to determine the nature of said ability. He appears capable of somehow lengthening the cutting edges of bladed implements. A pocket knife becomes a sword. A sword can cut across the street. The effect is not physical, as in the sword doesn’t literally become fifty feet long. Just the cutting effect. The ability appears limited to line of sight range. Thousand Cuts,” Nila made face, “has been observed pointing at either his men or the blades they’re wielding to trigger the effect. The researchers suggest that the ability is magical in nature. Although, the gang leader has not yet been observed casting other spells. Again, I’m not too concerned. The effect doesn’t appear to strengthen the cutting power, which means I’ve got nothing to worry about while I’m wearing the Threnosh armor. I’ll charge in and hit him in the face. Unconsciousness will then cancel the effect. At which point I will hit the rest until they stop moving.”
“What about the ra—”
“The ranger squad with me will keep their distance. They can pitch in after I take out the leader.”
Cal couldn’t find anything objectionable to Nila’s plans so far, just that he’d rather not have her fighting with gangs, but she had volunteered to help.
“Next,” he held up a picture of a young woman of average height and above average build.
“Maria Valverde,” Nila said. “Damn, her arms are impressive. Talk about goals,” she flexed her much thinner, even if it was supremely toned, arm.
The photograph showed the young woman hammering something on an anvil. She was in a tank top despite the sparks. Sweat glistened on the brown skin of her chiseled and bulging arms.
“She’s not really a threat,” Nila said.
“Still…”
Nila sighed. “Maria’s class is unknown. She can make and control small automatons. She mostly uses the materials she finds in the factory district near the Port of Long Beach that she claims as her territory. There are close to a thousand people residing in her territory, but she doesn’t really involve herself in governance. She will occasionally use her automatons to deal with monsters and help people obtain supplies. Her presence along the edges of the port keeps the other gangs away, which means your dad doesn’t have to worry too much about his workout area.”
“The port’s strategically important in the future when, if, we get global commerce going again,” Cal said. He was on the fence concerning the viability of that. There were fishmen now and he had seen truly enormous monsters in the sea back on the Threnosh world.
The human population had been cut drastically. If he went by the local situations then the world’s population was roughly ten percent of what it was before the spires appeared.
“I think the global supply chain is dead and will be for generations. Everything is local now. Especially when stores keep magically producing goods as long as we control them. Then there’s the ability to buy and sell things through the spires. It’s like Etsy, but for everything,” Nila said.
Cal shook his head. “The tiered system of fees to unlock permissions to put your goods up for sale is too expensive for most people. Unless you’re killing monsters on a regular basis it’ll take years to get enough points just going about doing normal things, even if you’re sticking to your class. It’s tough to find or create challenging situations in what is essentially your job. Much easier to go to a store every few weeks.”
“Thanks for the mansplaination,” Nila smirked.
“Thanks for the… lady… snarka… nation… you win this round,” Cal said flatly, “but sleep lightly,” he whispered.
Nila laughed.
“C’mon, we’ve got like forty of these profiles to go through,” Cal said.
“It’s like I’m cramming for a quiz,” Nila said.
“Except with real stakes, not like school,” Cal said.
“Move on to the next one then. Ms. Valverde is not a threat to attack. The young woman probably just wants to be left alone to work on her small metal men.”
Cal looked at Nila expectantly.
“What else do you want? Her abilities are completely unknown. The only thing the rangers have is that they occasionally scry spikes of magical energy emanating from Maria’s factory.”
“Which suggests…”
Nila rolled her eyes. “That her abilities are magical in nature, which suggests a Class. The nature of which is currently pure speculation.”
“Which is the fun part of this entire exercise… the speculation on powers and abilities… nothing?” Cal shook his head. “Fine, if you won’t then I will. I think that the rangers are on the right track in regards to Ms. Valverde. Magical energy does suggest a mage class of some kind. Perhaps a Golem Mage or Maker, Master. I posit that magic is involved in the process of creation and in control.” Cal regarded Nila’s blank look. “Really? None of this is interesting? This is the first of this kind of magic that we’ve seen!”
“Why don’t you just go and ask her?”
“I would except Rayna made me promise to leave Ms. Valverde alone. They have some kind of deal. The young woman is not to be bothered in exchange for her using her little golems to discourage other gangs from encroaching on the port, plus supplies for the people. Why said people don’t just move here? I don’t know.”
“I’m a little surprised to hear that.”
“I know, the way that Rayna just steamrolled over me. Dictating what I can and can’t do… she’s changed,” Cal nodded.
“Not about that,” Nila said. “That you actually listened to her.”
“Well… this is a delicate time. I was planning on going on a long walk after Rayna’s Quest is done. You know, take in the sights. Right wrongs were I happen to find them and if I happen to encounter these awesome golems and their maker, all the better, no?”
“That sounds reasonable,” Nila smiled.
“I’ll probably have to check out whatever weird crap is going on in San Diego,” Cal sighed.
“Huh?”
“One issue at a time,” Cal said. “Next card,” he shuffled through the pile until he found one, “oh, here’s another scumbag.”
“Ugh,” Nila recoiled, “so ugly. How is that possible? I don’t want to fight this one.”
“Yeah… this one looks like they smell worse than they look. You know?”
“No, no I don’t and I don’t want to find out. Maybe you can take this one out of the fight on your way to Beverly Hills?” she ventured hopefully.
“Nope… I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise attack,” Cal said.
----------------------------------------
“I’m sorry. I was drugged most of the time. I think it’s cause I kept trying to escape.”
Kayl regarded the nervous-looking young man kindly. “It’s okay Fin, anything you can give us will be helpful.”
“I just…” Fin shook his head. His mop of black hair flopped down to hide his eyes like a curtain with the way he resolutely stared at the floor to avoid looking at the hard-eyed men and women in the room watching him, “I can’t remember details.”
“Nothing at all, man? Guard numbers? Levels? Abilities?” a heavyset man said harshly.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Kayl held up her hand.
“Captain, we’re going in blind,” the man continued, “we’ve sent three infiltrators and lost contact within days. They’re probably dead or worse. The kid’s our only source of intel. We’ve got nothing on force dispositions. Can’t we just like,” he wiggled his beefy fingers, “magic it out of his brain.”
The air in the room dropped noticeably.
Fin’s head shot up and he fixed a glare on the man. The gaze was almost dead.
Kayl suppressed a shiver. “Fin’s been through enough. We have promised to keep him safe,” she laid a comforting hand on Fin’s shoulder.
“No such magic exists or at least that we know of,” Rayna said. She regarded Fin out of the corner of her eye. There was something off about the young man. His refusal to state his specific Class was a huge red flag, but the rangers needed his potential power. Not to mention that he was a victim of the shits running their little kingdom up in Beverly Hills. “Thanks, Fin, you can go if you have nothing else to add.”
Fin nodded hesitantly before leaving the room.
“Sorry, sir,” the man said stiffly.
“No. You’ve got valid concerns, Randolph,” Rayna said.
“I got nothing against the kid. He’s passed all our tests so I’m taking him at his word. It’s just that things smell weird.”
Kayl frowned. “Is that your fat gut’s intuition talking or do you have something concrete?”
Randolph bristled. “Yeah, my gut doesn’t like it, but logic also says this whole thing in Beverly Hills doesn’t make sense. Why did people turn a bunch of mansions up in the hills into… places of debauchery?”
“Because they’re scumbags looking for wealth and power!” Kayl snapped. “Why else? It’s what their kind did before the spires appeared, except now they don’t have to hide it.”
“The almighty dollar replaced by Universal Points,” Randolph agreed, “but that’s all they’re doing. They haven’t seized the surrounding territory and taken control of the gangs when they have the power to do so.”
“Do they? Maybe they don’t have the numbers and strength to hold territory larger than a handful of mansions,” a grim-faced woman said. “A small number of higher level people can’t keep more than a few blocks under their control.”
“Jor’s probably right,” Randolph began, “but her guess is still just that. I don’t know if we can move on mere guesses. The risk to our rangers…”
“We’ve been over this,” Kayl said, “and we’ve agreed that we need to start taking risks in pursuit of greater strength. Our continued survival depends on it.”
Rayna regarded the handful of men and women seated around the conference room as they continued to argue. Her eyes roved to the maps up on the wall.
Their territory was surrounded by threats.
The ocean to the west was full of mutant animals and monsters like landsharks and possibly fishmen and their dark god. The other cardinal directions all contained dangerous men and women, monsters, mutated animals and other worse things if the stories her brothers had shared about what they had seen in the past could be believed.
She had no reason not to take Cal and Eron at their word and the knowledge sent a shiver up her spine.
Cannibalism as a superpower, a living skin that subsumed its victim’s identity and others just as horrifying.
“How can we rescue the HVT’s when we have zero intel on their locations?” Randolph said.
“The enslaved are not going to be our concern,” Rayna said.
“What the fuck do you mean?” Jor’s voice rose. “Gaining strength is necessary, but I thought the most important part of this Quest was freeing those people, like Fin, from sex slavery.”
“My brother agreed to take care of them,” Rayna said.
“Okay… that’s great and all, but we don’t even know what he can do,” Randolph said.
“You can ask him, but I doubt he’ll share. I guarantee he’ll make sure that we don’t have to worry about finding and extracting the HVT’s,” Rayna said.
“Seriously, how?” Jor said. “All of our scrying attempts have yielded nothing. The only thing we’ve managed to learn is that some kind of spell is blocking us, which should be concerning to you, sir.”
“Cal says he can do it and so he will,” Rayna let out a long breath, “look… if we didn’t need to use this to gain levels then I could go over there and flatten every asshole, grab the HVT’s and fly out. The asshole warlord wannabe’s aren’t a problem anymore with Cal around to smack them down if they think my absence is a ringing dinner bell. As it is, even without me or Cal here and my dad being stuck on monster watch duty, Nila will be enough to scare off any raiders. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I don’t like the idea of you guys getting hurt and dying, but I can see why it’s necessary, even long overdue. This is the best time for this Quest.”
“Our commander is right. We can’t waste this opportunity,” Kayl said. “Her brother and his girlfriend aren’t tied to us. We can’t take their aid for granted. They’ve agreed to help here and now, so we must proceed. But even then we all do it with eyes open to the knowledge that we may not come back.”
“Volunteers only,” Rayna said. “We can condense squads to keep them at their optimal number if necessary.”
Randolph laughed. “That won’t be necessary. You’re going to have a hard time deciding which squads stay behind on guard duty. Everyone is going to want in on this.”
“So, we’re doing this then?” Jor said.
Rayna nodded.
The sense of finality hit her. She was going to be responsible, no, she was already responsible for rangers, friends, marching off to their deaths.
For a cause that was selfish, for a cause that was just.
The door shut with a loud echo in Rayna’s thoughts.
Her decision wasn’t one that she could take back.
“Should I have our scryers shift their targets to our borders?” Jor said.
“Yeah. They’re wasting their time on those mansions. We’ll want to know as quickly as possible if the warlords decide to raid. Without the bulk of our forces, positioning will be key to intercept raiders,” Kayl said.
“Make sure everyone knows what’s at stake, but more importantly what they risk,” Rayna said.
Just their lives, she thought, such a small thing to hold in my hands.
Rayne had never hated herself more.
“This is going to be the biggest and most dangerous thing we’ve ever done,” Rayna said. And I can’t… won’t keep them alive.
----------------------------------------
Election day had arrived.
A handful of polling stations were scattered throughout Orange County. It was a decidedly smaller operation than in the pre-spires days. The tech level had also dropped a few notches.
No more mail-in ballots.
No voting machines.
No vote centers.
Just paper and ink with drop boxes guarded by those unfortunate people who had volunteered to oversee a fair election while one party did their best to interfere for favorable results. Naturally, another party did their best to counter such perfidy. As for the third party, well, they were above it all, haughtily watching and judging the rest.
Sgt. Butcher set her jaw as she watched a sizable number of militia men enter the parking lot on foot. It was clear that they were headed right for the line of people waiting to cast their vote inside what was once a yoga studio.
“Here comes the Charmin militia,” Hardhat flipped her hard hat’s clear face shield down.
“Fucking Hardin’s,” Mouthy cracked her fists. The muscles of her brawny arms bulged visibly through her compression sleeves.
“They’re not even bothering to pretend that they want a fair election.” Iz idly strummed his ukulele.
“I count twenty-three. Should I call up the others, sarge?” One-eye adjusted her eyepatch while fiddling with the long knife at her belt.
“I’m always surprised to find out that you can count… on account of your eye condition,” Iz said.
One-eye shot a rude gesture.
“Bring up Chains, PK and Catscratch. You’ll stay back there with the rest. Our job is to make sure the votes and the voters are protected. Besides, this isn’t gonna turn into a slice-up,” Sgt. Butcher said.
One-eye looked like she was going to complain, but nodded curtly and hurried into the yoga studio.
“Alright, no killing and no talking. Maybe I can convince these dumbasses that concussions are bad for them,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“Don’t bother, sarge. We’ll just wipe our asses with them and be done with it,” Hardhat said.
“Agreed. I don’t not want to miss out on the operation and all the tasty points,” Iz said.
“Fucking pigfuckers best not ruin that!” Mouthy spat.
“Mouthy, Hardhat on me, Iz stay back and play me a tune,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“What do you want, sarge?” Iz’s fingers lazily plucked strings.
“Something soft and slow, like a lullaby,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“Best not get us in it this time or I’ll stuff that thing up your ass, sideways,” Mouthy said.
Iz rolled his eyes and stepped back away from the trio as they moved to intercept the Hardin militiamen before they could reach the end of the voting line.
“Don’t worry folks, Rayna’s Rangers are here to keep you safe,” Iz grinned broadly. “Though feel free to move closer to the front in case things… happen,” he winked.
“Goddamn it,” Mouthy scowled without looking back, “even your voice is punchable.”
“Both of you shut it. Save it for our enemies,” Sgt. Butcher said flatly.
“Enemies? I thought we were on the same side. ‘Together we stand against the monsters.’ Isn’t that what you people like to say?” The lead militiaman’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“As per the agreed upon terms of the election’s rules, this location is under the protection of Rayna’s Rangers. The agreed upon amount of observers for all parties are already in place. Your presence is unnecessary and a violation of said rules,” Sgt. Butcher spoke like she was reading out of a book. Her unblinking eyes were fixed on the lead militiaman.
“Don’t be like that. We’re here just to make sure it stays safe.” The lead militiaman raised his voice. “Our voters deserve safety! They deserve to know that the Freedom Force is here to keep them safe! That Pryce Hardin will keep it that way!”
“Sir, electioneering is against the rules all candidates agreed upon. You may protect the perimeter,” Sgt. Butcher said flatly.
Mouthy helpfully pointed to the street beyond the parking lot boundary.
“The Freedom Force won’t let anything get in our way of protecting our citizens!” The lead militiaman had a deep voice that carried well.
“You are in violation of election rules. Move away or be moved,” Sgt. Butcher said.
The militiamen jeered and leered.
The lead militiaman held up a fist.
Quiet took a few seconds to settle over the militia.
Iz began to strum a soft melody on his ukulele, barely noticeable.
“I know your kind isn’t the best at math, but you do know that there are only four of you and over twenty of us?” the lead militiaman sneered.
Music tickled the lead militiaman’s ears and he grew a little bleary eyed.
Yawns, loud and wide spread out through the militia like a ripple in a dirty tub of water.
“Maybe you should count again,” Sgt. Butcher said.
The lead militiaman blinked. “Seven? Where’d they come from?”
Chains, Pk and Catscratch had arrived.
The pretty young woman lit up a cigar as she stood next to Iz.
“Not so close, Chains,” Iz coughed.
The two men that went to stand next to Mouthy and Hardhat were physically imposing specimens.
Catscratch was an absolute barrel of a man, well over six feet tall. The claw scars on his face made him an even more menacing figure.
Pk was even taller. His was a burly figure with long limbs that worked well with his preferred fighting style.
“Catscratch, no killing,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“Aye aye, sarge,” Catscratch said in a deep rumble.
“Fucking Christ! You’re not an ass-licking pirate!” Mouthy snapped.
Catscratch grunted by way of a reply.
“Pk, lose the gloves, don’t want any maiming either,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“Got it, sarge.” Pk pulled his spiked gauntlets off and reverently laid them on the ground. His hands were wrapped like a boxer.
The militiamen began to edge toward the rangers.
“Last chance,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“Fuck you, bitch!” the lead militiaman spat in her face.
The riot helmet’s face shield took the hit.
“Tsk… do it,” Sgt. Butcher said flatly.
Iz began to play his tune in earnest.
Chains puffed on her cigar with vigor.
The Hardin militia had over three times the numbers advantage on the rangers, but they fought sluggishly. They swung their truncheon’s and fists at smoke as much as they did at the rangers.
Sgt. Butcher anchored the line with her riot shield and baton, clubbing any that reached her. The lead militiaman was already insensate at her feet.
Mouthy brawled with viciousness on the sergeant’s right. Hardhat was more measured on the left, but was no less effective.
As for Catscratch, he pounced with surprising quickness for his bulk. Knocking men down with ease, though to be fair to the militia they were already unsteady.
Meanwhile PK laid them out with precise punches. Just enough power to turn the militiamen’s lights out, but not break their jaws. Once or twice he even had to catch a man before they slammed their heads into the asphalt.
“Should wear helmets,” PK frowned.
“Ouch!” Hardhat winced as a club struck her right on top of her construction helmet. She returned the favor with a steel-toed boot to the groin.
Mouthy laughed. “I think I heard one of his nuts crack!”
The fight, if it could be called that was done.
“Nice job everyone. Iz and Chains, well done. You managed to keep us free from your effects,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“Not perfectly,” Catscratch shook his head groggily.
“Hey, man, not entirely my fault. You move around like a cat in sack of other cats, but the other cats are total dicks,” Iz said. “How do you expect me to keep you free from my tunes?”
“Practice more,” Catscratch grunted.
“Restrain them and remove their weapons,” Sgt. Butcher gestured at the militiamen. “I’ll call it in.” She tried to project calm, composed as she tried to figure out what to say. Inside she was very concerned. This was an incident and such things might imperil their place in the upcoming operation.
“Hey, guys? Did you all get the Quest for that?” Hardhat said.
“Universal Points, fuck yeah!” Mouthy clashed biceps with Catscratch, who held back to keep from knocking her down.
“Aims, Two-toes and Smores are going to be pissed they missed out,” Iz said.
“Their fault for not being any good in a fist fight,” Chains shrugged.
Mouthy laughed. “And you are? With your dainty little bitch wrists. Look like toothpicks.”
The voters had pushed the long line into a large disorganized mass near the front doors of the yoga studio in their zeal to get away from the fight.
“Iz, Chains, get that line back in order,” Sgt. Butcher pointed.
The sergeant walked into the building and sought a quite place to make her call. She couldn’t screw this up for her guys. 13th Squad, Rayna’s Rangers couldn’t miss out on the potentially unprecedented leveling opportunity, oh and the helping a lot of people was important too.