By the time I returned to the GTA, I’d formulated a rigorous enough plan that even Fort Knox would stand no chance against me. In my sleep-deprived delirium, I’d cooked up gadgetry and contingency plans versatile enough that the Spy Kids would be quaking in their stupid little kiddy boots.
I’m talking about a state-of-the-art battle plan to suit the looting and scooting of any mansion, manor or squalor foolish enough to stand in my way. Ninja gear, headsets, Jarvis-hacking-the-mainframe kinda stuff.
It’s fine if you aren't following what I’m saying, this is some real POTUS-type shit.
When I traipsed my way to Adam’s office and collapsed in my chair-bed — I’m doing this until Adam resigns himself to it — I carried out my plan in dream-world. I’d been a lucid dreamer since I got here, and now I would take full advantage of my newfound ability.
This is where I’d usually go into great detail about how I practiced each intricate step until I achieved a flawless execution, but I’m afraid it would be a moot point.
When I awoke, refreshed and with a functioning brain, I reminisced on my near-sleepless morning.
I must’ve been stark raving mad that whole time. There was no way anything I just dreamt about would ever work.
Only with a replenished soul and body was I able to look back and see the stupidity I’d engaged in last night, spurred on by the wild events of that day. Despite my overactive mind, impossible plan and hallucination-like experience, I was correct about one thing.
Three days. Breaking and entering. In and out adventure.
I tossed up the idea of not telling Adam about my idea — he would lean towards the long-drawn-out battle where I’d steadily ingratiate myself with Granton until we were as chummy as two rats in a sewer.
The problem with that was the time frame.
In a way, I was far more experienced with this type of thing than Adam. On Earth, I dealt with the issue of snitches constantly, and I knew that the bullet in the night was far more dangerous than the poison in the shot glass. The longer the FDA, FBI, CSI, blah or blah left one of their agents in our ranks, the higher the chance that Ralph would adorn his wall with yet another pair of eyelids.
It’s gruesome, and I apologize for 'letting you in’ on that punishment, but I would have to convince Adam of my wisdom or risk a similar fate.
With any luck, I would have that chance in the next hour or so once he came into the office.
For now, I was concerned about bodily hygiene. Running hot water wasn’t a widespread thing here — the places it did exist required a helping hand from some magical plumbing — but I was pretty sure nearing a week without a shower was going to leave me with a slight odor.
I scoured the office for a shower or bath — even a bucket and sponge would do — until I found a blue door near the toilets that kind of blended into the wall. There was no door handle, just a yellow piece of metal that I pushed to swing the door open.
I’m not sure if it was an ‘Executives Only’ place, but when I tell you it was fancy, I mean fancy. If the spa bath in front of me had been a car, it would’ve been a Lamborghini with a box of gold bars in the back.
Sixteen jets, a loop of gentle blue lights, an oak icebox and three fluffy towels greeted me, inviting me to take off my sticky clothes and soak my troubles away.
I relented.
If I hadn’t been slightly concerned about an early riser in the office or a member of the janitorial team, I would’ve whooped with pleasure. Instead, I blew bubbles and considered myself lucky for ticking off another free expense.
Perhaps it was the whole ‘government agency’ thing, but these benefits were getting out of hand. Free food and water, a chair-bed, and now a jacuzzi with a beer fridge.
If I look too hard, I might find my own personal butler.
I lazed around for about forty minutes before the nerves got the better of me and I hopped out of heaven and dried off, slipping out the door with a tankard of some kind of refreshment from the icebox.
Scurrying back to my desk, I tried to look a bit disheveled by messing up my hair, then I got to praying. At this point, the tree chart was more of a formality — Rendar and I just clicked, and I knew what I’d offer up before I sat down.
Fifteen minutes later, people started to crawl in — crowds of sunken eyes, bedheads and breakfast-stained ties. With them, came Adam.
“Morning, Marcus. How’d things go with our friend?”
Straight to it.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Morning. I think you’ll want to discuss in your office.”
“Follow me, then.”
We entered the small room, Adam shot me a glare when he noticed the chair-bed had reappeared, then pushed one half to me to sit down in.
“Shoot.”
“I passed his test and got myself a night-job praying for him — he has me exclusively praying to Rendar. He mentioned that he’ll be gone for three days on a business trip, so I think we should absolutely-without-a-doubt break into his house either tonight or tomorrow night. Thoughts?”
“First part, good. Second part, not a chance in h—”
“Hear me out! Please. Unless you station me at the church all day and night, which I’m sure you don’t have the authority to do—”
“You don’t have any clue what I can or can’t do.”
“Yep, yep yep, I know. But stop me if I’m wrong — unless I’m there all the time, there’s a chance that on any random old day, he’ll want to know what little old Marcus — his only Rendar prayer giver — is doing. You said he’s rich and powerful, and in my experi— humble opinion — that is not the kind of person I want investigating me and finding out that I’m trying to deceive them.”
Adam leaned back in his chair and thumped his head on the wall. He didn’t seem to notice. I was thankful he was at least considering my proposition.
“I think my approach is still the way to go. I would hazard a guess that you haven’t seen his house, and if you did, you wouldn’t be so brazen. Inheriting a fortune has given Granton a vainglorious desire to protect his wealth and status — getting in wouldn’t be like picking the lock on your granny’s hundred-year-old shack. Besides, as your manager I have a duty and legal obligation to look after your best interests — I’m not eager to order you to your death, because it will probably get me fired.”
“Okay, okay. I appreciate that. In that case, I have a question. As a graduate of the GTA, am I officially an employee? I wanted to check if I was closer to, say, a contractor, until I finish my probationary period.”
“Technically, you’re a contractor. Yes.”
“Interesting. I mean, it’s not like that would have any benefit such as, I dunno, separation of legal liability between myself and the GTA.”
Adam raised an eyebrow.
“Correct.”
“And on a completely unrelated note, if I tried to get into Granton’s house nonetheless, what would I be looking for?”
His eyes flickered with annoyance, then he grew a knowing smile.
“Marcus. Listen very, very carefully now. If someone were to break into Granton’s mansion up the top of Halten Road — and I would strongly, unequivocally encourage them not to — the theft of his banking records and any signed or draft contracts with Haverbark guilds would be of utmost value and importance. I will reiterate though; I would never ask an employee of mine to commit an act of crime, especially one that could impact the GTA’s reputation. That person would be completely on their own if there were any repercussions.”
I felt like we were laying it on a bit thick, so I gave Adam a thumbs-up and returned to my desk to pray. He’d been pretty easy to convert — as soon as I let him wash his hands of any liability, it was smooth sailing.
Now I’ve just got to break into the house of the most self-indulgent, powerful man in Haverbark.
Thinking about it like that, I was curious about how Adam, Granton and Veronica — the three ‘strong’ people I knew — would hold up in comparison with those at the frontline. It was hard to believe that there were people out there zipping around like Superman, delivering atomic punches to any monster in sight.
That ‘floating’ thing Granton did was really putting me off. And I knew so little about him — could he just ‘teleport’ home when his medieval Alexa or Siri detected an intruder? Was Adam just sick of me and throwing me to the hounds?
For the sake of knowledge, I wanted to find out. Rendar would be proud.
I began my preparation by praying for Domain Thinking. Prayer came second nature at this point, so I was also able to formulate a new plan, one whose foundation was not built on sand and shit.
The basic idea relied on a concept from a video game I played on one of those ‘try-before-you-buy' setups at GameStop — I don’t recall the name, but it was a top-down game where you ran your Chibi-Robber through all manner of locations, dodging guards and stealing artifacts. If I could get my Domain Thinking skill going, I could recreate the same effect.
And so, I prayed.
I prayed hard.
I’d always had the gift of grinding — at least I have something to thank corporate life for — and now I put it to good use. The levels flowed in, despite the larger amount of EXP needed per level. My day was broken up only by the following notifications:
{Domain Thinking : Level Up! Current Level: 4}
{Domain Thinking : Level Up! Current Level: 5}
{Domain Thinking : Level Up! Current Level: 6}
{Domain Thinking : Level Up! Current Level: 7}
{Domain Thinking : Level Up! Current Level: 8}
{Domain Thinking : Level Up! Current Level: 9}
At the end of my shift, I checked my Domain Thinking skill.
Domain Thinking (10):
{Proficiency in Domain Thinking will increase the user’s perceptiveness over large areas, particularly relating to inanimate objects.}
{Bird’s Eye View: For 5 minutes, produce an accurate bird’s eye view image in your mind’s eye of any 250 square meter space within one kilometer of you. 1-hour cooldown}
I was surprised to see that I didn’t unlock a new ability — only improving ‘Bird’s Eye View’ — but that was all I was relying on, and my work had paid off. The level 3 version of the ability, despite sounding phenomenal when I first saw it, was now completely overshadowed by the level 10 version. Ten times longer duration, five times larger area, and half the cooldown time.
The cooldown time was troubling. Whilst still a big improvement from two whole hours, I would’ve liked a more rapid-fire ability, one that I could activate to check out a specific, small area as often as I needed. I’d have to read up on my skills and see if that existed. With my luck, I'd probably unlock it at level 11.
Again, I waited until most people left the office before I completed my preparations. I was starting to get some strange looks, as though people were perplexed how a week-old graduate would have enough work to keep me at the office past beer o’clock.
Sneaking into the stationary cupboard, I took out a thin rectangular case of pencils, ten sheets of paper and a few pins to keep them together. I shut the cupboard, then on second thought, reopened it and grabbed an eraser and a stapler — the similarity of this world’s tools to those of Earth sometimes astounded me.
Then, I found a comfy place to sit and pray awhile. I selected Granton’s profile, switched my ‘Prayer Beneficiary’ and went to work. For a while, checking his Knowledge tree would show a steady stream of EXP being delivered from yours truly.
No reason to fret.
No reason to check your magical security cameras.