The captain didn’t wear the blindfold for her benefit.
Nicholas would’ve struggled to look at her face without the simple cloth.
“Orders,” she pushed a thin folder across her desk. “Deep infiltration Op.”
“Oh, sounds fun already,” he scanned the first page, which contained the broad strokes on his objectives. “This is… surprising.”
“Things changed with the Terminus Decree. Shortened time frames to answer ownership challenges presents a problem and an opportunity. It’s in the planning stages, but we are going to take back our tactical and strategic advantages.”
“We’ll start small,” he nodded. “Test things out on the smaller stuff, like a mouse nibbling on the corners of the cheese. You want me in place to see how they react? Only one problem with that. I wouldn’t know where to start. I mean, all we’ve got is a family name that keeps showing up on the things we want. The flying man is the only obvious one.”
“We still aren’t in a position to challenge him.”
“So… this whole op is coming out of the oven early?”
“Like I said, the plan is to test. Primarily, response time. If he doesn’t show in time, then we take back what is ours and he’ll have to be the aggressor if he wants it back.”
“Seems dumb, Captain, that’s a big risk for a small reward.”
“Explain.”
“Whoever these people are they haven’t done anything in decades with the weapons in their possession. The way I see it, they’re keeping it safe for everyone. There’s no guarantee we can hold them indefinitely. Can you imagine if some random warlord got their hands on them? Or we fail to keep the facility from going spawn zone? That seems to me like a perfect scenario for a Godzilla to pop up. Besides, what are we going to do with them anyways? There’s no one we’d need to nuke.”
“The flying man.”
The captain quirked her brow at the open-mouthed look on his face.
“That was the first potential target brought up in the meeting.”
“Please tell them that is the stupidest idea… respectfully,” he snorted. “You’ve seen how fast he moves. You could try a trap, but there’s no guarantee he can’t just out fly the blast. At that point you’ve given him every justification he needs to stop playing nice.”
“I told them as much.”
“Are they serious?”
“Deadly.”
“I see.”
“I believe we are on the same page on this. It is imperative that you secure information that will assure that our worst case scenarios don’t happen.”
“Understood. When is mission start.”
“Now. Read it. Memorize it. Then go. You’re on your own, lieutenant. I trust you.”
“I won’t let you down, captain,” he stood and saluted.
----------------------------------------
Starting small was a nuclear power plant in New York, on Lake Ontario.
Two names laid claim to it.
So familiar, yet, none of them could put a face to one. As for the other, all they had were blurry photos and videos.
The flying man was almost as shy as bigfoot.
Which, incidentally, was real now.
There were two camps on that.
One believed that the cryptid had been real the whole time and it was the upheaval to the status quo that led to its emergence.
The other camp thought that the first just couldn’t admit they were wrong. To them the simplest explanation was that bigfoot, sasquatch, whatever quaint country name one called it was no different from all the monsters, creatures and other things that the spires brought.
Captain Patriot didn’t care about the debate.
She was unaware it even existed.
“Everyone in position.”
She waited for the words.
“Set the timer. On my mark. Now.”
She said the words in her head.
An answer to the question the spires presented through text and voice.
It was just shy of ten minutes when the answering booms thundered in the dark sky.
The flying man appeared.
He flapped his arms as he descended to stand in front of her.
He wore a mask, a reflective one that seemed to throw her own appearance in her face.
Faint memories of a movie or a TV show from her childhood flitted across her thoughts before she refocused.
The white light within her warmed, comforting against the threat.
“I flew all the way from… there,” he pointed to the southeast.
Multiple recording devices wouldn’t miss a word or gesture.
The man’s slightest actions were being dissected by multiple think tanks filled with analysts of every type.
“And… boy are my arms tired.”
Silence.
“Are you he?”
“I am him… who is ‘he’ you are referring to?”
“There are two names that stole this power plant.”
“We didn’t steal it. In case you didn’t notice we’ve set it to provide power for free,” he gestured to the lights in the surrounding area. “Our ownership also kept it from turning back into an encounter challenge and eventually a spawn zone. You should’ve seen this place before I fixed it, oh, 20-ish years ago. Monsters everywhere.”
“The U.S. Government thanks you for your service. It is no longer needed.”
“Can’t wait to charge those people?” he nodded. “I get it. It must’ve been hard all those years hiding in your bunkers, just thinking of all the wealth you couldn’t squeeze from the people. Look, a fight’s a waste of my time. Stupid stuff like this is going on all over the world. Do you know how many nuclear missile sites I have to keep from falling into the wrong hands? It’s a lot in case you didn’t realize. Me being here, takes away from that. Do you have a way to defend yourself from nukes? Cause if you do, please share. I’d rather not spend the next year answering pointless challenges when I could be killing monsters and bringing supplies to people.”
“We don’t want to fight either. You just have to leave and let us take back what is rightfully ours.”
“We aren’t the final word on that.”
The man quirked his head to one side to look over her shoulder.
“I know you had a moment planned to get the last word in. Put me in my place, psychological warfare stuff, but I have a bachelor’s in that, so don’t bother.”
She gestured.
An unassuming young woman wrapped in a thick jacket to ward against the chill of late fall air approached.
“You know, that’s not a good look for willing participants,” he nodded at the two armed soldiers flanking the young woman.
“They are for the mayor’s protection.”
“Get out of there with that!” he scoffed. “We all know that she’s the only one here that isn’t in danger. Hi!” he waved at the young mayor.
“He— hello,” she waved back.
“Are you Jesse’s girl? The oldest one?”
“Ye- yes.”
“Darla, right?”
A hesitant nod.
“Wow, I’m getting old, you were, like, ten the last time I was in this area. Is your dad okay?”
Darla’s hesitation vanished as it became clear to her that this was the same man from long ago.
“He’s fine. He retired two years ago. He’s working on his pool shark class and fishing, mostly. I’m, uh, mayor now.”
“Congrats to the both of you! Rest of the family okay?”
“They are… um… I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you have anything to be sorry for. So, I guess we’ve got to address the stinky turd in the middle of the restaurant floor… is the old government threatening you guys?”
Captain Patriot tried to get the conversation back in her control.
“They—”
“Shush, you. We’re talking here. You can be honest Darla. I happened to know that they,” he pointed at the captain, “are going to have some big problems if they’ve conquered or otherwise threatened you into compliance.”
“No, they didn’t. I mean, we voted.”
“Free and fair?”
“Yeah. We kept a close eye on it. With spells and Skills. There wasn’t any cheating.”
“Was it close?”
“68% voted to rejoin.”
“Huh? Well, I’m a little disappointed to be honest, but that’s your right… you know they’re going to start charging you for that,” he pointed at the power plant. “Taxes, the draft, the healthcare scam. Make you work cause it’s ‘immoral’ not to work.”
She couldn’t see past the mask, but it sounded as if he had rolled his eyes like a petulant teen.
“We voted,” Darla shrugged and smiled wanly.
“And I respect that…” he paused. “Will the ‘No’ voters be safe?”
“It was a secret ballot,” Darla said.
“Smart! Okay, than I must be off. Plant’s yours.” His tone grew cold. “Don’t screw it up, Captain Patriot. This Terminus garbage is making me a busy man. I might not be able to drop by if nuclear-powered monsters arise.” He regarded Darla. “As for the 32%, someone will be in touch about immigration options. The ballot strikes in many ways. What are you going to do then, captain? Make it illegal to leave. Sounds very North Korea-ish to me,” he paused, “you do remember them, right?”
“Yes. What happened to them? You’d be the one to know?”
“Hmm… I’d be willing to trade that information. Do you have information I’d want?”
“Not at this time.”
“Okay, well, goodbye and I hope to not see you for a while. Not, you Darla, you’re still cool with me. Tell your dad and sister I wish them my best. Oh, and tell your dad I know plenty of good fishing spots worldwide, but more importantly I know where he can swim with the greatest pool sharks in the world if he really wants to level.”
With one last wave he vanished into the night sky.
“He just let you have it,” Darla whispered.
“It wasn’t his to take.”
“For twenty years it was. And we never had a problem. All we had to do was the daily maintenance. He paid to keep it from reverting.”
“We will do the same.”
“For free? He never once asked for a single Universal Point. How much will it cost us, huh?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. That is not my job.”
“People will want to leave. Will you stop them?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I follow the laws.”
“It’s not against the law to move. At least not yet.”
“That is correct.”
“Will that change?”
“I can’t answer that. I am soldier. Congress makes the laws. The president signs them. That’s how it’s always worked. You weren’t born yet, so I understand your ignorance.”
“My dad taught me our history. I know how things worked back then.”
“Then be happy that you have a leadership role in shaping the new future of our great country.”
The words felt hollow on the captain’s tongue, but came easily every time she had repeated it across dozens of small communities as they steadily expanded outward from the capital.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
She preferred the restriction on the use of force.
It had always made more sense to her that they focus on bringing the willing back into the fold first rather than forcing a fight with the stronger ones.
Her encounter with the flying man led to an aggravating string of debriefings as everyone on the ladder above her wanted to get their piece of the pie of the successful op.
It bothered her that none of the old men seemed to understand that it wasn’t a victory when your opponent simply handed it to you.
Not even the president.
“Good job, Captain Patriot. You showed him what true American grit looks like. We’re going to get our nukes back, boys!” he shared a round of smiles around his cabinet.
She eyed the general in charge of special operations.
The man nodded.
“Permission to speak?”
“Of course, captain. You know you’ve earned that right,” the president said.
“I’d advise a tempering of expectations.”
The president steepled his fingers and leaned forward as though it was a one on one meeting.
“He didn’t challenge our claim because the people voted. I believe that will not be the case when we reclaim our missile sites. He said as much. If he is keeping hold of missile sites all over the world then I see no reason why he wouldn’t do the same here.”
“This time he’s up against the greatest military in the history of the world.”
The old men fired off thoughts.
“We know the nations that had them pre-spires, but we’ve got to factor in the ones that were close.”
“Factional breakdowns. Those weapons could be anywhere by now.”
“So, let the flying man keep the rest of the world safe from nukes if he’s so concerned. This is America and it’s not his place to dictate to us what we can and can’t do.”
“We need intel. What we have on our own soil is barely adequate compared to how it used to be.”
The thought that these old men hadn’t truly been out there, hadn’t truly seen what things were like outside the bunkers, struck her like a bolt of lightning.
“Will we have the eidolon’s super soldiers ready by then?”
“That’s what we need intel on. I can’t be the only one that wants something more than reports. Are we really going to just trust an alien’s say so that things are on schedule?”
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” the president knocked on the table. “The captain has the floor.”
“We can’t win a fight with him as we are. That is a certainty. We know what will work, so I suggest we keep doing it.”
“Elections,” the president nodded. “Fitting. We are the greatest democracy to ever exist!” he grinned. “Let’s show everyone that we haven’t forgotten our roots. Rightful Destiny is just that. There’s no need to rush since it’s inevitable.”
“What about citizens leaving?” The vice president, never a tactful man, didn’t let the moment breathe.
“Let’s take a wait and see approach to that,” the president said. “Travel’s not as easy as it used to be.”
----------------------------------------
“I’m not unfamiliar with this,” Al held the ice cream cone like a torch to ward against the encroaching dark.
In this case, the darkness was the setting sun and warding against it was completely unnecessary since the ice cream shoppe had lights.
Indeed, the street lights had already come on.
Being in the capital of Richellia meant that even a winter night was temperate.
Not that the eidolon was affected by such mundane concerns as the climate.
“However, this crunchy cookie shell is different,” he chomped on the top scoop, leaving him with two.
“Finally! Something we have that you don’t!” Ronald crowed.
“Friend Ronald, why would you ever expect that a civilization eons older than yours wouldn’t have something as simple as a frozen cream dessert? Granted, the majority of our freezers are powered by magic. Cold gems, runes, captured elementals. Although, some worlds made use of steam and electricity as you do until they were brought up to modern standards. That isn’t to say that there aren’t new and interesting discoveries to be made. Take that method,” he gestured with a tree-sized arm to the interior of the shoppe, “I have never seen using a frozen slab of granite to fold sundry additions to frozen cream,” he took a huge scoop from the tub on the table.
“You might the first… um… person that I’ve seen seen eat two gallons of ice cream in one sitting,” Ronald checked his slim communications device for the tenth time in the last few minutes.
Al wasn’t a fool. He knew that his allies had their own plans and plots.
He studied Ronald’s face.
The young man failed to hide his worries.
At first Al had suspected that Ronald’s youthful exuberance and nervousness was an act. An underestimated opponent was a dangerous one, after all.
But as the months in Ronald’s company passed, the more the young man revealed that he was a callow youth in truth.
He allowed the young man to stew.
Often, he had learned, that patient silence was the better hunting method than reckless and noisy pursuit.
He contented himself with the frozen cream.
The street was filled with people.
Walking and talking.
The noise of happiness.
Their eyes widened and their voices hushed when they noticed him.
It must’ve been a comical sight.
Such a massive form in a chair that strained to hold him.
In fact, he had sat in a partial hover the entire time to spare the shoppe proprietor a broken chair.
The iron of the chair would fail long before the muscles in his legs.
Children pointed with awe and wonder.
He responded by waving and smiling.
A few brave souls rushed up to him to bombard him with questions and requests to sign slips of paper.
His contests in the arenas had apparently been viewed across the entirety of Richellian lands.
“Shoppe keeper! Frozen creams for the children!” he boomed before blindly transferring Universal Points through the spires system.
His victories and the small Quests he had completed throughout this pleasant jaunt could cover half the city’s children in all the frozen creams they could want.
The shoppe keeper tried to protest.
“It is alright, keeper. Spend it all until there is none left. Tell them that Adras’ generosity is as boundless as his strength.”
They departed with a fresh gallon.
For Al.
Ronald had enough judging by his groans and bloated belly.
They walked until they entered an industrial area.
Smoke rose from thin stacks and the pounding of hammers could be heard from miles away.
For a proclaimed peaceful nation, Richellia sure seemed to be focused on arming themselves.
He supposed that only fools wouldn’t in the early decades after the spires appearance.
The crowds of happy people had thinned.
The only people they passed were those performing their duties and patrolling guards.
A simple nod was enough to leave them unbothered, for he was a famed Gold Division contestant days away from the final.
“So, friend Ronald. Now that we are away from prying ears. What harries you?”
“You know the whole thing with our assets going nuts a few months ago?”
“Ah, yes. Clever enemy action.”
“Right, you guys said there were some magic paths that dealt with the manipulation of the mind. Well, the assets we managed to get back didn’t show any signs of spell effects. And now, the assets I’m supposed to check in with have gone silent.”
“That is concerning.”
“That’s putting it mildly, but it’s not your problem. You need to focus on the final. Win and show them who’s in charge!” Ronald pumped a fist.
“I don’t doubt my victory from what I’ve observed of my opponent. My concern lays in another arena. At times, during my last two matches, I have felt a pull. Almost as though Adras’ gift could be taken from my grasp.”
“Okay… that’s serious. Hey, um, don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to report that. What else can you tell me?” Ronald hurriedly pulled a small booklet of lined paper and an inktube from his pocket.
“Don’t be concerned. Truly, I have already told you all that I know. It reminds me of the feeling when sparring with another Eidolon of Adras.”
“Um… yeah, I have no idea what that means, but I’ll put it down,” he scribbled. “And it happened during your matches? Hmm… we should complain about interference. That’s definitely in the rulebook.” He struggled to juggle the items already in his hands with the small, thick booklet of the R.F.C. rules.
“That will not be necessary. It wouldn’t do to reveal a potential weakness. I prefer to wait and lay a trap.”
The days turned.
He spent it with friend Ronald eating and drinking. His stomach was bottomless and his divine constitution needed divine liquor to be challenged.
The final match arrived.
The crowds in the massive arena were thunderous.
Cheering.
Chanting his name and that of his opponent.
The masked shinobi paced on the other end of the dirt field as the announcer exhorted the crowd to even greater heights.
He waited politely for the wildly dressed man to finish before raising his hand.
“If I may? I wish to exchange words with my worthy opponent!” his voice boomed without the need for enhancement.
The referee, who was clad in clothing that emulated the barred equines on the great grasslands of Hyperia, Thirty-Third of Its Name, signaled to the shinobi, who nodded.
Al approached with open arms held out to his side.
The universal language of peace, if only temporary.
“From one orphan to another, I greet you.”
The shinobi’s story had been shared on the viewing orbs.
The young man was the sole survivor of a small community.
He had taken that tragedy to rise over Level 40 in such a short amount of time.
The shinobi pulled the cloth covering his mouth down to reveal a crooked grin.
“Thanks, but that’s not going to make me go easy on you. Any chance that you’ll go easy on me?”
“Don’t be concerned. I won’t dishonor you. Give me your best!” He made sure that his smile reached his eyes.
He didn’t add that he had marked the young man for potential recruitment into Adras’ divine embrace.
It would be unfair to add even more pressure.
Indeed, the young man faintly quivered.
Though, that might have been from the deep, booming echoes of tens of thousands of people stomping their feet on concrete and steel.
He strode back to his starting place.
The referee rose into the air underneath the power of a minor levitation spell.
He made a note to keep an eye on the referee’s location throughout the match lest he accidentally pull the man to him.
The magical projection counted down.
He raised a fist to the crowd, flexing every rock-hard muscle in his body.
The ways of the arena across different worlds crossed all boundaries.
Nearly every species would recognize the cacophony pouring down from the stands.
The bell rang.
The announcer roared.
Al leapt, low to the ground, off one tree-trunk sized leg.
He grasped for the shinobi only to find a sawed log in his hand.
Turning, he crushed the log and hurled the splinters.
“Lightning Birds!”
Burning bright, blue-white light scarred his vision.
The pain danced across his face.
Before the championships it had been months since he had felt pain’s humbling touch.
He welcomed it.
Blinded, he threw his arms out wide and flared Adras’ gift for a split-second.
The shinobi cursed, planting his feet on Al’s broad, rock-hard chest.
Massive arms snapped shut like an iron trap.
The log shattered, showering his face with splinters.
He chuckled plucking them from his beard as his vision cleared.
The shinobi stood a few meters in front of him.
Bold of the young man to be caught flat-footed withing grabbing range.
“Heaven’s Eye.” The shinobi’s right pupil turned from dark brown to light pink with a fractal shape spiraling into infinity.
“Mirage: Demon Crows.”
Black, red-eyed birds burst out of the shinobi’s shadow.
Al closed his eyes on instinct.
One would be surprised how often that worked against illusory abilities.
It failed on this occasion.
He found himself still staring into the swirling eye.
The crows scratched and pecked at his face.
He felt them as though he were a mere mortal again, but he had seen the shinobi use this ability in the previous match.
Only he saw and felt the crows, so he raised his arms over his face and endured.
He wouldn’t be made to look the fool like the previous opponent, windmilling his arms while running around like a headless chicken.
The ability had a time limit.
Seconds, that felt like long minutes, but when reality returned, Al was unharmed.
“Now what, brave opponent? That was your best technique, unless you’ve more hidden blades in your belt,” Al crouched low to the ground as he slowly crept forward like a wrestler.
The shinobi’s armored chest rose and fell as he slowly backed away, keeping the distance consistent.
Suddenly, he pulled his mask down and took a great breath as his fingers danced in an intricate, interlocking pattern.
“Fire Serpent Release!”
The roaring hit swallowed him whole as the giant serpent swept over him with open mouth.
It vanished, leaving him fully revealed.
Singed, but not burned.
Unlike his chiton.
He welcomed the crowd’s gasps at the entirety of his impressive physique.
Indeed, arenas in the pantheon’s worlds tended to disallow enchanted gear, which meant that combatants often ended up nude unless they had an ability to preserve their clothing.
The moment’s distraction cost him.
The shinobi scored a painful line across his back with the birds of lightning caged within fingers.
He feinted a backhand.
The shinobi vanished with a pop, leaving behind another log that clattered to the ground.
Al kept the log in the corner of his eye as he made to turn once again.
What the inexperienced often misunderstood was that great size didn’t preclude one from great speed and quickness.
Plus, the shinobi had tried the same trick when he had gotten desperate in an earlier match.
Instead of completing the turn, Al spun back and planted an enormous foot on the log.
“Yield or be crushed,” he smiled.
A pop of smoke revealed the shinobi.
The young man glared balefully up at him for a moment before raising his hands.
“I’m tapping,” he patted Al’s foot.
Al made a show of pulling the young man to his feet and raising his hand.
They resembled a father and very small son sharing victory.
“Well done! My eyes are on you. Continue to grow in strength, level up and become worthy of Adras’ divine embrace!”
“Uh… yeah… thanks… um… good fight,” the shinobi shrugged and headed back to his tunnel.
The announcer floated down to Al, holding a microphone.
Al took it, not noticing the man’s protests, careful not to rip the thin man’s arm off.
“I came here to challenge the dragon president!” he boomed. “Where are you, Cezirichella, the dreaded maw of the cerulean seas? You, who claim to be the greatest president to grace these lands? Where are you? Come, face me in an honorable contest of might! I speak with the voices of a thousand presidents throughout this once great land’s history! Come, let me show you that greatness once again!”
The cheers died down.
His smile slipped a fraction.
He had, perhaps, failed to truly understand the mood in the arena.
The jeers that rained down on him were also familiar.
“Ah,” he muttered. “I’ve forgotten my place. I’m not home’s favored son.”
Well, no matter, he would labor hard to win them over, for that was Adras’ way.