2035, Deep South, America
“Look at these assholes. So many chins. Practically drooling like do— check that. Dogs are great. These guys are worse than animals. At least animals just follow their nature. Don’t care what anyone says, if it’s in your nature to want to own other people then it’s on you to suppress that shit. Not go all in on it. I’d like to kill everyone in this room, but since the boss didn’t want to roll with that I’m not.”
His eyes had progressively widened while her whispered rant progressed.
“These people are, like, a disease and I’m the cure. Hmmm… shit, I sound like—” she shook her helmeted head, “never mind. As I was saying. Fuck these pervs. You can tell their pinkie dicks get especially hard when they bring out the girls and boys. We should just kill em all. Then roll right down into America’s dangling taint and take care of the rest of these slaver fucksticks. I’ve got so many punches to give.”
His eyes were saucers.
“You know what—”
“Quiet! They can hear us!” he hissed.
“Relax, Sticksies. I’m whispering. Been ranting for like two minutes now and no one’s even looked our way. The boss said they wouldn’t pay us much attention. I’d have to be screaming and dancing down the aisle or some shit like that.” As if to demonstrate, she turned her head to one of the other mercenary guards arrayed around the edges of the small auditorium. The double doors separated them from each other. “Hey, you should be ashamed of yourself for protecting these assholes. Actually, be ashamed for being part of this whole operation. Just cause you might not be directly involved in the acquisition and enslaving of people doesn’t mean you escape complicity. I’m going to punch you so hard,” she waved and smiled.
“Oh god…” he gawped then tightened his grip on his spear.
The guard frowned. “Quiet,” he hissed. “Now’s not the time to pitch a resume. We’ve got a recruitment tent set up in our camp for walk-ons if you’re interested in joining.”
“What the fuck?” he hissed while the other guard turned away and studiously ignored her existence.
“First time?” she snorted.
“Yes. You know that.”
“Boss is clouding their minds or something. He says he’s not a Jedi, but…” she shrugged.
“What the hell is that?”
“Oh shit. That’s right. You’re a young one. What were you like 3 or 4 when the spires showed up? There was this movie and TV show franchise. Pretty awesome overall! Though the animation stuff was better than the real life stuff.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“Well… shit. You really are new. No laptops? Computers?”
“I know what those are.” He had seen them in the possession of others back at base and in the dorms. Remembered stories from back in his old community told by the older people.
“Shit… sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He tried to control his expression. Hide the sadness.
“Don’t bottle that shit up.”
“How did you know?”
“Briefing. Didn’t single you out, but I got told that some of the newbies might’ve come from a place that got dest— that got got by monsters. My bad. If you ever want to vent…”
“Thanks. It’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”
His fault. His pain.
He had been gone when the monsters had attacked. Too busy trying to get stronger in an encounter challenge too far away from his home. He had outgrown all of the nearby ones. By the time he had returned— No. Best not to remember what he had seen during his waking hours. Considering that he couldn’t stop seeing them when he slept.
“Anyways… as long as we whisper they’ll think we’re just talking about normal stuff. Nothing for them to be concerned about. They won’t even really notice us. Won’t be able to remember what we look or sound like. So just try to relax. All that tension is sapping your energy. We’re just chilling and waiting for the signal. Then we can fuck these assholes up.”
She had raised her voice enough that one of the prospective buyers sitting in the last row turned to glare. The look turned into a leering one once the man really saw her.
She shot the man a finger.
The man licked his lips in response.
“See… they see what they want.”
“Why did the boss want no casualties?”
“Not ‘no casualties’ just no outright deaths. He wants to interrogate everyone. Learn everything they know about the slaver kingdom bullshit.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen we have a real treat for you!” the auctioneer’s voice boomed.
“Good acoustics,” she murmured. “The outside guards will come quick once the beatings start.”
“That’s our teammates’ job.”
“This young woman is a treasure in multiple respects. Her appearance? Well, you can see that for yourselves. A classical beauty… but not in looks alone. She is also a trained Pianist. Her Skills and skills are capable of so many things. Her music can inflame your passions, sooth your hurts, inspire your creativity. She can truly make you and anything you do better. Any questions before the bidding starts?”
One of the men in the audience raised a hand. “The collar doesn’t interfere?”
“Rest assured that she has been properly broken of the will to resist by our finest trainers.”
“I’m going to puke.”
He regarded his partner. She didn’t look sick. She looked murderous.
“C’mon, Punchy,” he hissed, “you’ll get your chance any second now.”
“Tsk… I’m going to rip that smug smile of the auctioneers face.”
He regarded the man down on the stage. Perfect suit, perfect slicked-back blond hair and, yes, a smug smile that had never wavered as he had enticed rich garbage to bid on other human beings.
“I’ll pin him in place for you.”
“Thanks, Sticksies.”
“Let’s start the bidding at 10000 Universal Points!” the auctioneer grinned.
The young pianist simply stared down with dead eyes as the auditorium erupted.
A second auctioneer, called out the bids as they came. It rose fast and furiously over the next few minutes until it was well over a hundred thousand.
The sickening experience continued for close to an hour until finally the last person was brought up on stage.
“A special gift from the King!” the auctioneer boomed.
Excited murmurs from the buyers.
“What the fuck? A baby?” he whispered in horror.
“Nah… looks like two-ish. That’s a toddler,” she nodded sagely. “Poor thing looks terrified.”
“Do they even know what’s going?”
“Kids are smart. They can sense evil.”
“The product of a high-level paring. The mother… a Level 30 Mage—”
“Pfftt… high level,” she snorted.
“— but the real significant one and the one you’ll be excited about is the father.” The auctioneer paused to build anticipation. “Undefeated against all challengers in Hard Rock Stadium! Victorious against monsters and men in every battle he was ever fought! Over Level 40! None other than the King’s Champion!”
“Look at them. So excited. Over Level 40?” she scoffed. “They have no idea. Going to be fun to open their eyes… right before we shut them forever.”
“Um… no deaths,” he said.
“…” she cleared her throat, “they don’t need their eyes to talk, do they?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think the boss would appreciate unnecessary cruelty. Even if this garbage deserves it.”
“You’re a good kid, Sticksies,” she patted him on the arm.
“That’s not my codename. None of what you call us are our codenames.”
“Yeah, but mine are better.”
“Punchy? Sticksies?” he raised a brow.
“It’s what I do and as for you,” she pointed at his spear and the short ones at his back and the small javelins in the holder at his waist, “all of that amounts to sharp sticks.”
“Agree to disagree.” He mulled over his concerns about the entire plan. “It’s just the two of us, maybe three or four, against the entire auditorium. There’s six guards at the doors and everyone down there has their own bodyguards. Not to mention the ones guarding the people we’re here to rescue in the back.”
“Relax. Level difference, remember? You’re almost 40 and that’s a big spike. Me and Shootystabby are over that. Sparky doesn’t have a class, but she’s, like, over 40 if she had one. No one here is even higher than 30. All things being equal-ish it’d take ten Level 30’s to match up fifty-fifty to one Level 40. Ten Level 20s to match a Level 30. Which means a hundred Level 20’s for one Level 40. It’s a logatheorem or something like that. Don’t you know simple math?” she regarded him like an especially slow child.
He knew simple math and even a bit advanced.
Her explanation was generally correct in regard to differences in class power level. In theory, at least. Her terms, however… well, she was a senior on the team and from experience quick to punch for slights, perceived and legitimate.
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He remained silent and simple nodded.
“Relax,” she repeated. “None of the merc groups or teams in town have anyone over 40.”
The auction for the toddler concluded at a higher price than for the Pianist.
They wheeled the toddler off stage and the auctioneer gave yet another speech thanking everyone and letting them know about potential dates for future auctions.
“The slavery business must be booming. Get ready.”
“Right.” He strained his ears waiting for the signal. “Are the… people… in the back really going to be okay?”
“The boss won’t let anything happen to them.”
“If he’s so good then why can’t he handle these guys and the mercs outside?”
“He can. Just that we need opportunities to improve and level. Can’t get our hands held. We need that threat and danger.”
“Not complaining about all that,” he muttered.
“Now get ready. Shootystabby should just be about done with the fighters guarding the enslaved…” she paused, “Sparky should just be about ready to overload the—”
The auditorium plunged into darkness.
“Leatherskin.”
A loud slap echoed over the surprised gasps in the audience.
He touched his cheek through his open-faced helmet.
Indeed, it felt different.
“Haste.”
Punchy slapped hands to both her legs before sprinting off down one of the aisles.
He remembered his promise and one of the people on stage had been kind enough to cast a light spell.
“Enhanced Aim.” He pulled a javelin out. “Perfect Throw.”
It arced over the auditorium and lanced into the smug auctioneer’s foot pinning him to the stage.
The scream of anguish on the man’s once perfect, smiling face was satisfying.
“Hey—”
“Magic Missile.”
Bright marbles burned the mercenary guard’s face.
He lunged and thrust his spear into the man’s knee. Withdrew in one smooth motion and thrust it into the second guard’s knee.
“Stay down and stay alive.”
“My knee—”
“Can be healed. Are you going to give me problems? I can maim you worse. One knee shouldn’t be too hard to heal. I could cut your spines?”
The guards dropped their weapons and raised empty hands.
That took care of both guards at this door so he ran around the auditorium’s edge toward the next set of guards.
Meanwhile, Punchy moved through the seats faster than fat men that couldn’t fight could react to.
“Slap Shock!” she grinned ferally as her hand whacked the back of a man’s head.
The man convulsed and fell into a seat.
She slapped her way through them contemptuously. Both hands lashing out like she was giving high fives to her fans.
Thwack went her hand across a heavyset man’s face.
“Bitch!”
He fought the convulsion.
It appeared that not all of them were combat-useless.
A ham-sized fist rushed at her face with respectable speed and technique.
She slipped it and aimed a punch for his liver. “Fireball.”
Orange light bloomed in the darkness and sent the man tumbling across the seats. His big body bowled over several others.
That shouldn’t have been enough to kill any of them… probably.
She shrugged and continued her part of the plan.
Gunfire boomed.
“Mage Shield.” Sticksies spun his spear creating a glowing magic shield in front of him. Bullets plinked off it. Every hit created a tiny crack.
“Suppression Fire!”
“Shit,” he muttered. He tried to move forward and failed. An invisible force kept him rooted in place. It was like chains holding him to the floor.
“Trample Charge!” the second guard bellowed.
The gunfire stopped.
He dropped his magic shield and threw his spear.
Over the charging guard’s head.
The man smirked.
The spear struck the wall next to the gun-wielder’s head.
The woman blinked and sneered as she clicked a full magazine into place.
He thrust his hand toward the charging guard as if he was reaching for an object. “Spear Teleport.”
A tiny pop.
The faint displacement of air.
He reappeared with spear in hand.
The gunwoman cursed and stumbled back bringing her submachine gun to bear.
He knocked it to the floor then stabbed her in the knee.
The charging guard skidded to a halt and turned his way.
There was a flicker of movement behind the man.
The man went down with a scream.
“You got the rest of the guards? I’d like to help cut those bastards down there.”
He spun and saw Shootystabby kicking the gun away from the downed woman’s reach.
“Huh? Did you kill that guy?”
It was hard to tell in the dim light from the windows high above, but it seemed that the charging guard wasn’t moving.
“Cut his hammys and knocked him out with the new poison,” Shootystabby shrugged. “You got the rest of the guards or not?”
He eyed the doors on the other side of the auditorium while the dark-skinned woman sliced a shallow cut on the gunwoman’s arm.
“Are the people in the back okay?”
“Yup. Already long gone from here.”
“The collars?”
“Boss put them to sleep.”
“That’s not enough! I thought—”
“Relax. It didn’t turn out like the first time. Don’t know what he did, but the boss made it so the collars didn’t go boom.”
“Great. I’ll handle the rest of the guards.” He threw his spear across the auditorium and into a guard’s shoulder. “What about the mercs outside?”
“I took a quick look. It’s a fight, but the rest of our team has it covered.”
“Good. Thanks, Shootystabby.”
He vanished with a pop and appeared at his spear.
“Shooty— oh… fuck you and your stupid names!” she called down to the young woman slapping everyone into a stunned state.
“You’d better get down here if you want the chance for some guilt free slicing and dicing, Shootystabby!” Punchy cackled.
“That’s not my codename,” she sighed as she flickered her way to join her teammate.
Sticksies stabbed the guard in the knee. Parried a Skill-enhanced axe chop with only a little difficulty. The level difference was no joke.
“I know you’re just doing a job,” he stabbed the guard in the knee, “but maybe you should reconsider the types of jobs you take.”
The guard cursed before he knocked him out with a blow from the butt of his spear.
The door burst open to reveal a tall woman armored in nearly full plate and wielding a longsword.
The high level alarms rang in his head as he backed up to create distance.
Spear beat sword as long as he kept her at the pointy end and didn’t let her close.
Dark eyes regarded him through the full-faced helmet’s narrow slit. “Lucky you,” she said flatly.
Those alarms blared.
He shifted his grip to free his right hand to pull a javelin out from the holster. “Fire Spear.”
The javelin streaked through the air. Burning bright just like the fireball spell. Just as powerful too.
The woman’s sword flicked out faster than he could follow and sliced the burning javelin.
The spell winked out of existence.
The swordswoman closed quickly.
“Double Thrust.”
Her stride didn’t alter as she parried the first… then parried the impossibly fast second thrust.
He backpedaled desperately mindful of his footwork.
The woman’s speed made it a tough thing. He just barely managed to avoid the mistake of crossing his feet.
“Triple Thrust.”
One, two, three in quick succession.
Silently parried.
He gasped.
It took more out of you to use Skills. His stamina drained significantly more versus thrusting three times without the Skill. Granted the Skill moved a lot faster and with as perfect technique as he was theoretically capable of.
“Mage Shield!”
It shattered in what felt like an instant as the feedback stabbed into his brain with painful needles.
The swordswoman regarded him as he staggered.
He hadn’t even seen her strike.
The only evidence of it, aside from his broken magic shield and raging head pains, was the angry glow and heat radiating off her blade.
Was she even using Skills or magic?
She dashed forward and kneed him in the gut.
Chainmail didn’t do much to help. Neither did the tough padded shirt he had on underneath.
“Unlucky for you,” she whispered. “It’s going to be harder to make this look good. Carne Asada Burrito, Lakers, Indignance.”
The code words for everyone taking part in the mission.
“Do your best. Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s really kinda crushing, you know,” he whispered.
“No offense, kid. One of the girls would’ve been better to at least make me work for it. You’ve got good basics and abilities. Mage and spear class combo. Magespear? Spearspell? Something like that?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, don’t hold back.”
So, he didn’t.
Partly because she asked and partly because she had been condescending even if that hadn’t been her intention.
It didn’t matter though.
She cut through his spells and spear techniques.
Even cut him from a distance without the sword coming close.
At least all of the cuts were shallow. Not that she had spared his armor and clothing.
He leaked blood from a dozen wounds after what felt like an eternity, but was really only a minute or two at most.
The ceiling suddenly tore open like a can of beans.
Sun light flooded the once darkened space to reveal every slaving piece of crap bound and gagged on the auditorium floor.
Punchy and Shootystabby watched him with appraising eyes.
“Not bad, Sticksies,” the former waved happily. “You really gave that mysterious and obviously skilled and powerful swordfighter a run for his or her money!”
The swordswoman took a deep breath.
“You tried… your best,” Shootystabby said.
“They aren’t good influences,” the swordswoman whispered.
“I— I— don’t know…”
The swordswoman looked up into the sky.
He followed the look and squinted up at a silhouette floating with the sun to its back.
“Try not to break anything. It’ll make my job harder,” the swordswoman whispered.
He blinked in confusion.
The swordswoman vanished.
He realized a split-second later that she, along with the other mercenary guards went flying out through the gaping opening that was once the roof and out to… elsewhere.
“Let’s get those cuts taken care of,” Shootystabby suddenly appeared next to him. “She didn’t need to go that far,” she tsked.
“Had to make it look good,” he shrugged. He didn’t have the details on the unknown woman’s part in the overall Quest, but he could guess that it involved some kind of infiltration. Too bad it was at the expense of his confidence.
“Don’t worry about it. Quest accomplished. More importantly no one on our side died.”
He blinked.
He hadn’t noticed the notification.
He took a moment to read and listen to it.
“One step closer to freeing everyone,” he said.