Miami, Florida, New American Republic, November 2036
Adal woke to the familiar and pleasant weight on both his sides. Soft in all the right places.
He smiled at his two girls.
“Wake up my darlings. We’ve got a busy day today,” he whispered.
Talia was the first to stir. She sat up revealing her nakedness as the light sheet slipped down to her lap. She stretched her arms over her head and tossed her thick mane of auburn hair.
Adal had the urge to run his finger through it, but he knew that’d lead to other things and they had a schedule to stick to.
“Master!” Talia beamed down at him. “I’m so happy that your face is the first thing I see in the morning. What do you want me to do?”
“Shower and get ready for training,” he smiled. “We need to eat a big breakfast.”
Talia sniffed. “Bacon, yum,” she grinned as she bounced out of bed and to the bathroom.
Oh, how Adal loved the way she bounced.
He stroked his other girl’s bare back.
“Mmmm…” Mena stirred.
She rose with a yawn shaking her long, straight blond hair. She fell back into him rubbing her chest on his own while muttering something unintelligible.
“Time to get up sleepy head,” he said. “We’ve got a lot to do today. Need to go to the auction then a full day of training.”
“Poop!” Mena pouted. “I want to stay in bed with you.”
“Later tonight.”
“But we’ll be too tired.”
“Don’t have a choice if we want to do well in the championships. Now, go shower and get ready.”
“Okay, but only if you join us.”
“If I do that, then we’ll be late.”
“Fine…” Mena stuck her tongue out at him before she too bounced to the bathroom.
Adal thanked his luck as he did every morning.
Two loving girls, naked except for the metal collars, only for him.
He got out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts.
One hundred push-ups was followed by one hundred squats.
By the time the girl’s were done he was ready to take their place in the shower.
“Get dressed and go get breakfast. I’ll be down after I shower.”
He hurried through the process, brushing his teeth, a quick shower and clothing.
Less than ten minutes and he was out of his room and down the long hallway, down two floors at a brisk pace.
He slammed into his younger sister as she rounded the stairs from the first floor of their mansion.
“Watch it!”
“You’re the one that ran into me, Amelia,” he sighed.
He was surprised to see true venom in his sister’s eyes.
She said nothing as she stomped up the steps.
He entered the dining room to find his father, mother and older brother already eating at the main table.
His girls smiled at him from were they sat at the island.
“Did something happen with Amelia?” he said as he took his seat.
“A difference of opinion,” his father grinned ruefully.
“Our dear sister has somehow gotten it into her head that our essential staff are ‘slaves’,” his brother said.
“Well, that’s just wrong. Why does she think that, Cedric?”
“Too much reading in the library,” his mother said. “I blame that on my side of the family. We’ve always been voracious readers.”
“But slaves were abused and forced into slavery,” Adal frowned. “We treat our staff well and they’re all happy, right, girls?”
“Yes, Master!” Talia and Mena said.
The cook and the server placing a full plate in front of Adal nodded in agreement.
“Adal, I’ve scheduled a date for you with—”
“Mom!”
“No, don’t you ‘Mom’ me!” she glared. “You’re eighteen now. It’s time to explore potential matches. Now, I’ve found a beautiful girl, she’s—”
“Can this wait until after the championships?” he huffed. “I need to focus on training. There’s less than a month left.”
“Dear, the boy has a point,” his father chimed in.
His mother shook her head. “Fine, but as soon as the championships are over or you’re no longer capable of competing—”
“Okay, okay,” he waved his hands. This was a conversation he hated. What did he need a wife for? His girls were enough to keep him happy.
“Adal, you don’t want to blow this off,” Cedric said.
He tried not to roll his eyes.
“Good job not rolling your eyes, by the way,” Cedric smirked. “But, listen. You need to start early on the wife. You want to be on the same page,” he glanced at Talia and Mena, “some women won’t be okay with them. Some will. Better to find out as soon as possible and set those expectations to what you want. That’s what I did.”
He tried not to frown at his brother. Cedric spoke sense if his relationship with his fiance was as it appeared.
Adal resolved to keep an open mind. Meeting a prospective match didn’t mean he was locked into it. After all, the wedding wouldn’t take place until he was at least 23, like his brother.
“Okay, Mom, I’ll meet with anyone you want, but after the championships.”
“I’m only trying to make sure that you end up with the best woman for you,” his mother patted his arm.
“You ready for today, son?” his father said.
“Yes, sir. I’m to go to the auction and listen to Silvio.”
“Pay attention to him, now that you’re old enough you’ll be taking on real duties for the family,” his father said.
“Not that you’ll be that busy,” Cedric snorted.
“Why?”
“That lech, Don, he’s been buying up close to 50% of the supply at all the lower tier auctions. I have no idea why?” Cedric said.
“It’s strange, Don’s always been about buying the highest quality,” his father mused.
“Young and female,” Cedric agreed. “The only thing I can think of is that he’s doing it for the championships. Maybe he thinks throwing as many fighters into it will get him the most rewards.”
“When did he change?”
“Not sure, Dad, I’d have to look over records, but I’d guess in the last month or two.”
“Do you think he’s using them as feeders to boost his best fighters, his champion?” Adal scowled. That was one thing he didn’t like. It wasn’t fair and it was wasteful. His girl’s would’ve been feeders had they not been attractive. He took pride in how they had grown in strength together.
“If he is, then he’s dumber than I thought,” his father said. “A few months isn’t enough time and diminishing returns won’t let him get a fighter to a high enough level to make it worth it.”
“He should’ve started last year like the others serious about taking the top prizes,” Cedric said.
“I’ll win my division,” Adal proclaimed.
“Sure thing, buddy,” Cedric said.
“Just don’t get hurt, son,” his mother said.
“You’ve been working hard,” his father nodded. “That’ll show true.”
Adal vowed to win.
To surpass his brother.
To show his mother.
To make his father proud.
He meant to be his family’s shield against all threats.
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“What do you mean we can’t be the ‘Furies’?” Jayde pounded the table.
The registration attendant flipped the tablet’s screen to her. “That name was taken two days ago. Sorry, Ma’am, but you have to register with a different name,” the young man rolled his eyes.
“What do you mean ‘Ma’am’ and don’t you roll your eyes at me young man!” Jayde pounded the table.
Hayden partially tuned out Jayde’s rising voice and the attendant’s exasperation to take in the crowded convention hall.
The air seemed charged and it wasn’t her doing.
Too many fighters that weren’t familiar with each other in an enclosed space. It was a good thing that weapons hadn’t been allowed, though when one had magic or Skills that wouldn’t preclude the possibility of deadly violence. She certainly didn’t need a weapon to kill things.
She eyed the others around her briefly, she didn’t want to linger on one person for too long, it could be taken as a threat or a challenge.
Others eyed her.
Trying to gauge strength.
Was that muscled mass in the shape of man higher leveled?
What about that tall woman in sleek, green armor and garish mask partially hidden under a purple hood?
Or that smug-looking blond guy juggling glowing balls of different colors?
Or that huge woman with dark brown skin that seemed to shine like metal underneath the bright lights?
Or that steampunk looking cyb—
“Hayden,” Dayana snapped her fingers.
“Huh?” she noticed that Jayde and the attendant were looking at her expectantly.
“Hayden, this rude flunky won’t listen to me, which means he is deaf to reason,” Jayde huffed. “Tell him that we have been the Furies for nearly 8,9, 10, 11 or 12 years now.”
“Are you even real—” the attendant shook his head. “Okay, I don’t have any reason to disbelieve you and I don’t really care. You’re the ‘Furies’—”
“Thank you—”
“But not for the purposes of the Freedom Championships.”
The term made Hayden grind her teeth. The air around her crackled and Dayana hopped out of range.
A passerby wasn’t as lucky, he jumped with a curse and a look of confusion.
Strong man not to be dropped by that.
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She had accidentally discharged enough electricity to match a taser.
Calm, she thought. “What about ‘Avenging Furies’?” she said for every man, woman and child with a collar around their necks.
“Sorry, we can’t have names that are too similar.”
“Dark Furies?” Jayde tried.
The attendant shook his head.
“Furies of Vengeance,” Dayana chimed in.
“No,” the attendant took a deep breath. “No prefixes or suffixes to the word ‘Furies’ or ‘Fury’.”
“‘Heartfuries’,” Hayden said after a moment.
“I said—”
“Ha!” Jayde thrust a finger in the attendants face. “You said no words before or after ‘Furies’ or ‘Fury’. Hayden just gave you an entirely different word. You have to accept,” she glared.
“Fine.”
Angry tapping on the tablet ensued.
“There… your team name,” the attendant thrust the tablet in Jayde’s chest, “please, enter your names, tap the check box, then sign on the next screen.”
Once the three woman finished the printer behind the attendant whirred.
“Take those to one of the assessment stations on the list.”
“What does that mean—” Jayde began.
“Next!” the attendant craned his head around Jayde and desperately beckoned to the next person in line.
The black man inclined his head to the trio as he walked through them.
“Hot?” Dayana murmured.
“Keep it in your pants, we aren’t here to make friends,” Jayde smirked.
“Not what she meant,” Hayden said as they walked to the exit, “hot as in the temperature around that guy was noticeably warmer.”
“Fire mage,” Jayde nodded sagely, “probably.”
“Don’t like the sound of this assessment thing,” Dayana said.
“We knew what we’re walking into. The boss gave as the whole lowdown,” Jayde said.
“Nothing we can do about it if we want in on this bullshit tournament,” Hayden agreed.
“Hopefully, their appraisers aren’t higher level than us. That way we’ll be able to keep somethings hidden,” Dayana said.
“Boss said they aren’t supposed to pry, just get our level and class,” Jayde said.
“Except, they’ll dig for all they’re worth,” Dayana said.
“Let’s force the issue with our truth stones,” Hayden held up the paper, “just like the boss said. They only mention assessment for level and class to put us in our proper divisions.”
“Gold,” Dayana nodded.
“What about Swanny and Sticksies? I thought we where thinking of doing that weird MOBA event with them. The two aren’t high leveled enough for the gold division,” Jayde said.
“They do a combined average for that, we can be in gold with them. We have to, the three of us are too strong for silver,” Dayana said.
“We’ve got a couple of weeks to decide. We can add them to the team later, though I’d rather we kept them out of the bloodsport bullshit,” Hayden said.
“You know if we do that, Swanny will join a ranger team and Sticksies is brave and dumb enough to do a solo event,” Dayana said.
“Stick ‘em with the boss?” Jayde ventured.
“No contact rules from our end. He reaches out to us… besides, we don’t even know where he is,” Dayana shook her head.
“Tell Captain Butcher to keep Swanny with the main force? Punch Sticksies until he promises not to be stupid?” Jayde tried again.
“They’re adults, that won’t work, I hate it, but I think they’ll be safer with us, as stupid as it sounds coming out of my mouth,” Hayden scowled.
They walked in silence toward the closest assessment area.
“‘Heartfuries’, huh?” Dayana said.
“Seemed fitting,” Hayden replied.
“They would’ve been all over this Quest,” Jayde agreed. “Conscience-free killing!” she added.
“I don’t think that’s why,” Dayana sighed.
“Por que no los dos?”
“What? Your voice just went weird,” Dayana said.
“I spoke Spanish, I said—”
“Why not both? I know. Did you forget about the universal translation system?”
“Been working on my Spanish.”
“Again, universal translation system. Why bother?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to learn some culture… you stupid bitch.”
“Fuck off!”
The two bickered the rest of the way to the assessment center.
----------------------------------------
“What are we looking at?” Hardhat chewed the inside of her cheek.
Mouthy regarded the enslaved soldiers on the roofs of the buildings on the other side of the street. She took the same time to eye the soldiers on the rooftops on the buildings on both sides of their motel. She muttered a curse. “Depends on what the buildings behind us look like.”
“About the same.”
“Well… fucking dicksacks have got us inside our very own killbox.”
“Could’ve been worse,” Hardhat shrugged. “We did arrest their peeps. Thought for sure they’d at least try to return the favor rather than let us walk in and set us up in this nice place,” she gestured at their ratty motel.
“Bit suspect that these slaver fucks didn’t even question us about that whole thing,” Mouthy said, “which tells me that we’re in for a bad time once these stupid Freedom Championships are close to over.”
“Having second thoughts about volunteering? Wishing you were back with the captain at the reservation?”
“Not even a fucking moment. You know what I do, Hardhat?” Mouthy bared her teeth. “I take the heat for my rangers and endure. Figure that’s why you volunteered too.”
“You raised your hand, I raised my hand. Once 13th Squad, always 13th Squad.”
“It doesn’t hurt that you can take hits with that weird ass hat. It’ll be useful when they start blasting.”
“What the hell are you two doing? Get inside or at least don’t stand where they’ve got sight lines to shoot you,” Aims said from the doorway of one of the rooms.
“They aren’t going to shoot us just after they set us up in these fine, piss-soaked accommodations,” Mouthy scoffed.
“Probably gonna wait till closer to the end of the festivities or if our contestants look like they’ll win,” Hardhat said.
“Just get in here, us sergeants have to talk, go over our plans,” Aims said.
“What’s there to talk about?” Hardhat grumbled as she stomped into the room.
Mouthy shut the door behind her.
Dastardly nodded from the small desk where she was tinkering with her monstrosity of a crossbow. The latest in combined magic and technology courtesy of the greatest enchanter alive, Heddy, or as the rangers referred to her, behind her back and to her face, ‘Sexchanter69’ in collaboration with the nerds up in NorCal.
Aims eyed Dastardly. “You sure that’s safe?”
In response, Dastardly took one of her bolts and hit the small glass container set in the middle of the arrowhead on the desk, hard.
The other three sergeants flinched, Skills on the tips of their tongues.
Hearts skipped beats until they realized that they were still alive and nothing had exploded or melted or disintegrated.
“Practically indestructible,” Dastardly smirked, “won’t pop unless I fire it from my baby,” she caressed the wooden stock of her massive crossbow.
“Damn thing lit up like it was alive,” Hardhat muttered.
Mouthy regarded the glowing script carved into the wood. The symbols had appeared to pulse at Dastardly’s touch. Or maybe that was just her? “Kinda like that weirdass hardhat of yours. How old is it now? 20-30 years? Seems like it looks brand new and I know I’ve seen it torn up before,” she scoffed.
Hardhat shot her a two-fingered salute.
“So, what’s got your taint sweating, Aims?” Mouthy said. “Plan’s the plan. We—”
“Hang on to that thought,” Aims held up a finger. He went to the newly-torn hole in the wall connecting them to the next room. “Hey, Babyapple? You done with those wards?” he barked.
“Yes, Sergeant!”
Aims regarded the wiry young man’s failed attempt at a beard. Since when had the rangers gotten so young? He shook the thought from his head. “Molds! What about the tech side?”
“All set, Sir. Outside eyes and ears are blocked or at least all they’ll get is a blurry look or garbled audio if they happen to be better at this than us or our gear, which they might be because they’ve got over a million people here and statistically that’ll mean the probability of high level people and—”
“That’ll do, Ranger. That’ll do. Just do your best,” Aims said. “Let me know if you think we’re being breached.”
“It’ll be bad news if they can pierce our covers,” Dastardly said.
“Captain Butcher’s got way more than us,” Hardhat said.
“If they find her then we’re in trouble since we’re only the distraction.”
“The Captain won’t fuck us. Besides we’ve got air and artillery superiority. We can bring the thunder and shit on their heads,” Mouthy said.
“As far as we know,” Dastardly shrugged.
“It’s intel from the boss and he’s never wrong,” Hardhat said.
“All good, but I’d rather not get us all killed being the distraction, which is why we need a plan to make that happen,” Aims said.
“Why bother?” Hardhat said. “We’re here to draw eyes and back up our entrants in the contests so the slavers don’t get any cute ideas.”
“You know they’re itching to slap those collars on each and every one of us,” Dastardly sighed.
“The boss is pretty sure they aren’t planning to do that until at least after the championships or maybe at toward the end,” Hardhat said.
“Can’t we at least figure out how to not be in this killbox when that happens? I figure the boss will give us a heads up if the collars are coming for us. Shouldn’t we already have a plan for our next moves?” Aims said.
“The way I see it we’ve really only got one option and it’s tits up,” Mouthy said. “We know the captain’s target, right?”
Three nods.
“Then all we need to figure out is what’s the best way we can help her hit it.”
----------------------------------------
“Elder Cambion, I’m sorry to interrupt—”
“Chance…”
“Yes, elder?”
“What do I want out of my chosen apprentices?”
“Intelligence and wisdom.”
“Correct. Have I not made myself clear before?”
“Yes…” the man hesitated, “Cambion.”
“Proper address is appropriate in the situations and settings that require it. When we’re alone then I don’t care about honorifics. Besides, you’re only a year younger than me and neither of us are old,” he smiled. “Now, you’re wise and smart, so there can be only one of two reason why you’re interrupting my meditation.”
“Yes—”
Cambion held up a hand as he rose from his seated position in the middle of the glowing circle inscribed on the cold, tiled floor. “Let me guess… hmm… you feel… excited, eager, a tinge of fear… you’ve found Shania and she’s dead, as I suspected.”
“No, er… Jared and he’s dead. We found his body in the Everglades, just outside N.A.R. claimed territory. The autopsy is starting in 10 minutes. I came to you as soon as I learned of it.”
“Shax wanted to get a jump on the rest of us,” Cambion nodded. “No matter. I imagine that Jared’s corpse is a swollen mess, partially eaten?”
“Yes,” Chance nodded eagerly.
“Go on…”
“They said that there looked like a few dozen stab wounds.”
“And when you say ‘they’…”
“The ones that found the body. I asked them.”
“Chance, it is important to be specific when giving reports on important matters.” Cambion mulled his next course of action. He didn’t expect to learn anything new by viewing the autopsy. The previous three had been sufficient. “Alright, I want you to go watch in my stead. Take accurate and detailed notes. Have it to me by tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll get right on it, Cambion,” Chance bowed and departed the inner sanctum.
With the discovery of Jared’s corpse it meant that Shania was the only Cabal member still missing.
When the first couple had disappeared they had thought that some among their number had decided to strike out on their own. The assumption was that they had grown greedy, which was encouraged by the Vitiator after all. The Cabal inner council members thought to prepare themselves for knives and spells from the dark as others sought to supplant them. Such things tended to move in cyclical ways. A man or woman hit a certain level and they decided it was time for them to climb the ladder. It was only natural.
Their minds changed when the first body turned up in a canal, mutilated.
The second followed a week later.
Then a third a few more weeks after that.
And now?
Jared was the fourth.
Shania was either the culprit or would be the fifth.
That was Cambion’s assessment.
Perhaps, she sought to level by killing her peers. Others had done it before with varying levels of success.
He only wished that she or whomever was responsible had picked a better time.
The Freedom Championships was close to starting and the Cabal needed to be as unified as they were capable of being. The prizes were too good to let the usual infighting in intrigue derail their hopes. The spires had sought fit to add to the already generous prizes that the N.A.R. put up.
Free attribute points was not a common reward from the Quest system.
Cambion was sorely tempted to enter as many of the Gold Division events as he could just for that reason alone.
The chaos caused by the murders was ill-timed—
Or?
Perfectly timed?
He scowled.
The championships by its nature would and had already upended the order of the Slaver King’s republic. Cambion smirked, the games these people play to rationalize their actions and policies, he thought. He only held vague memories of his time as a boy before the spires had appeared. Was the ruling system the same?
He needed to dig deeper into the murders of his colleagues. Yet, his greed pulled him toward the contests.
Who benefited from this?
There were any number of potential suspects.
The so-called nobles? It was natural for the most powerful houses to see the threat the Cabal posed as the home of the most leveled and skilled magic users in the entire region, if not the land.
The Slaver King wasn’t free from suspicion. The man had to fear the Vitiator as his superior. Had to fear the inner council’s collective might. Men with power always feared the potential loss of it. Perhaps the Cabal had grown too strong for his liking? Perhaps their beneficial relationship had run its course? Perhaps it was time to take the secrets of the control rods and collars for their own?
Cambion forced himself to relax and breathe evenly. The excitement, the rush of blood through his veins had threatened to get away from him as it tended to do with thoughts of inflicting pain. He focused back on the facts of the issue.
Four, possibly five Cabal members, all at least Level 30 in their primary class had turned up dead within the last two months. All from an excessive amount of stabs and cuts.
None of their attempts at investigation, mundane and magical had yielded any hint of evidence pointing to the culprit.
That told him that magic or Skills were involved.
Powerful ones at that.
If this wasn’t just about internal fighting for position then an outsider was deliberately targeting the Cabal, his Cabal.
Regardless, it couldn’t be allowed to continue.
Punishment and pain would need to be administered.
Preferably, before the Vitiator saw fit to get involved.
Cambion relished inflicting pain.
Receiving it held it’s own value.
However, he was getting too powerful to simply take what the Vitiator gave him.
Unfortunately, he still wasn’t strong enough to be the giver when it came to his master from another world.