Limbo again.

The same inky darkness pressing in on all fronts.

Looking back, perhaps messing with Granton wasn’t such a good idea. I should’ve at least had a few more levels to my name, perhaps a Combat skill or two before embroiling myself in the investigation. I couldn’t have been anything less than the least qualified person to do that job, but here I am, paying the price.

Now where’s that tunnel of light?

I spun around as best as I could in my zero-gravity suspension. I felt like an upside-down cat falling from a tree — twisting at first my lower body, then upper, trying to gain the momentum to turn myself.

It didn’t work.

I could feel myself moving forward at a glacial pace, but I wasn’t accelerating toward some new existence or grimy office building like last time.

I just was.

I pictured the aftermath at the cathedral and tried to laugh, picturing the other prayer givers as Granton eased open the squeaky confession door and walked out, suspiciously leaving whatever was left of me behind.

I imagine he’ll have some keen students after that. Perhaps a gifted Rendar-employee will take my place.

Laughing felt strange, like bubbles billowed up from my stomach with each attempt, but they wouldn’t burst into my surrounds, instead getting stuck in my chest or my head or some other cavity. I wanted to burp but still, my mouth wouldn’t open.

“I wouldn’t recommend trying too hard,” said a voice.

It came from behind me, a low voice in a — Canadian? — accent that bounced around like I was in a box, not an infinite expanse of darkness. My lips unzipped and I could finally speak.

“Who are you?” I called.

I was frozen in place with my head stuck looking forward, but I strained my eyesight to the very corners of my eyes until they were too sore to hold there.

“You know me quite well, Marcus! I should have thought you would recognize me immediately, but it’s okay. I’m not offended.”

“Have we met before?”

“In a way.”

“What does that mean?”

There was no reply. Whoever it was, they were able to move in this dimension. I could feel their approach, though their footfalls made no sound in the dark matter surrounding us. I looked down and saw ripples bumping into my feet.

“How are you able to move in here?” I asked.

“Oh, you know. Eons of practice, I suppose. It helps when your only occupation is to laze around and accept offerings all day. Puts a bloke in an endless food coma, and indigestion like you wouldn’t believe.”

Oh. That helps the guessing game.

“Are you a Deity?”

“Aye, and a well-fed one thanks to you. Half these folk seem to think I’ll eat anything they throw my way but phew! After you rolled in with your never-ending five-star menu, I must admit I’ve been a bit harsh on other folk! That’s on them, though.”

Holy shit. This is like working at Maccas and having God come in to tell you he liked the McRib.

“I’m glad to hear it. So, am I dead? Like...capital ‘D’ Dead? I thought I’d be reincarnated or something.”

At last, the Deity showed themself. A blue dragon at least twenty-foot long strode past, padding through the space like walking on a foam mattress. It was bedecked with coverings and ornaments and decorations, like one of those dragons that parade the streets over the Chinese New Year.

I knew at once that this was Rendar.

“You are not capital ‘D’ Dead,” Rendar answered. “But you have a choice. I can bring you back as one of two beings. The first is as the person you have just been — Marcus. It might be discomforting at first as I will need to stick the various pieces of you back together, but it can be done.”

“And the other option?”

“You could be someone new! I can guarantee you a prosperous, humble life, and a modest death in the arms of your loved ones. It might not be an ‘exciting’ life, but you will not have to go back to the GTA or deal with the trials and tribulations ahead if you were to choose to go back as Marcus. Plus, I wouldn’t have to do that whole human-puzzle thing.”

Boring, uneventful life? Or go back and make something of myself?

It wasn’t even a question.

“Send me back as Marcus, please Rendar.”

“Very well. In the future, do not toy with your life in this same way. It took a significant amount of my power to bring you here, and I won’t be able to do it again soon. You must strengthen yourself. Pray to all the Deities, join effective raid teams, but a word of advice — do not piss off people far stronger than you.”

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I chuckled as best as I could, feeling the bubbles once again. This time, I was able to release them.

“I’ll try my best, thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Now that tunnel of light reopened, like a train blaring its lights at me. The same gut-wrenching acceleration and rush of sound and color.

The confession box awaited.

###

Returning to your body which has previously been splattered over the walls of a cathedral is not pleasant. It feels a little like how Apparating looks in the Harry Potter movies, all swirling body parts and a stretched, er, everything. The sound is very satisfying, like building Lego at ten times speed.

Of course, I wouldn’t recommend putting yourself in the situation to try it out, unless you have an extremely solid relationship with the God of Knowledge. And don’t tell him I sent you.

I had expected the cathedral to be quiet, but instead I stepped out from the confession box into a battlefield. Granton stood behind a podium at the front of the cathedral, shooting all manner of spells out at the inhabitants of the place. I saw Church Man lying face down on the floor of his pew and I was worried he was dead, but then I saw his legs moving and I could breathe a sigh of relief.

At least twenty people were taking on Granton, including Adam and Pen, though the rest were foreign faces to me. They leapt over pews or retreated behind pillars, returning fire and healing or buffing their coworkers.

The Litigation Team.

This was not the band of balding lawyers that I’d expected. Try this on for size — the biggest ‘lawyer’ would’ve stood at eight foot tall, and he struggled to take cover behind the giant pillars since his shoulders poked out so far. The thick armor covering almost all his body didn’t help his size problem, but it was well worth it — the bloke collected hits like Mario collecting coins, and they didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

Two people crouched behind his massive frame. Though they would’ve been of average height, they could’ve been angry pygmy possums when they were compared against him. But they brought the firepower, and they brought it hard.

I felt bad for the church janitor. These guys were taking everything at their disposal and hurling it at Granton, including pews, braziers, candelabras, even the churchgoers themselves had to be careful not to be used as live ammunition.

Granton had defended well so far, but I could tell he was struggling. His attacks started to lag ever so slightly, and he kept glancing behind him for opportunities to escape. I huddled behind an overturned pew as quickly as I could, but he glanced my way with wide eyes. Evidently, he’d thought I would be a bit mushier than I currently was.

Thanks, Rendar.

A fireball bit into his arm and sent a smoldering sleeve glittering through the air. It shone like a flare, and the combatants instinctively looked up at it, expecting razor-sharp projectiles to fly out from the folds. Granton took the opportunity to stumble off the stage, running headlong into jumbled pews and shocked people as he charged for the side door.

He was quick, like Ernest, the Man of Hell, but Pen was ready to receive him, raising her fingertips and creating a shield of ice in front of her.

“It’s over, Granton! Submit!”

“Fuck you!”

He cast a poorly aimed bolt of energy, but it skimmed off the pillar without meeting its mark. He darted at the side door, lunging with an arm outstretched for the oak handle.

Pen was expecting that.

The icicles making up her shield broke ranks, forming into icy spears that lanced out from her like a porcupine lost in Antarctica. They shot out, racing toward Granton with deadly accuracy.

No amount of Knowledge EXP could save him from taking a hit, and he was struck in the side, sent brashly into the wall and then crushed under the weight of the giant from the Litigation Team. He struggled for a moment, and it looked like we would be able to overpower the giant and keep fighting, but seeing the crowd of GTA folk enveloping him, he thought better of it.

“Get your grimy fucking hands off me!” he yelled. “I demand to speak to my lawyer! Piss off, pudgy, and you too, Pen. You don’t know what’s coming for you!”

Pen didn’t look worried. I thought she should be, considering Granton had almost 1v20ed them, but I trusted her confidence. She motioned to about five GTA folk and they closed in on Granton, seizing him and dragging him out of the church.

Adam found me and slapped me on the back.

“Good stuff, Marcus! Played that perfectly, eh?”

“Excuse me? I fucking died, dude. Piss off.”

Adam was taken aback by my sudden anger. It felt weird to have a crack at my boss, but you may agree that it was justified — it was kind of his fault that I died.

“What do you mean you died? You’re standing in front of me, are you not? I mean, Litigation said they’d jump in if it looked like you were in trouble.”

I was so lost. I had no idea why half the Haverbark GTA had arrived on the scene just thirty seconds after I’d been obliterated.

“Adam. Granton blasted my brains out or some wild spell like that. I saw Rendar, and he brought me back to life.”

“You saw Rendar, The God of Knowledge?”

“Not many other Rendars around here I don’t think.”

“Maybe Granton used a hallucinogenic spell on you, man. Litigation wouldn’t let him do that to you. You were the bait, yeah, but not like...the bait bait. You get me? We didn’t have enough dirt on Granton to put him away for more than a few months at best, so we thought we’d wait until he, uhh, found out about you and his whole burning-house-thing. Then we thought we’d get him on attempted murder — bit outside our jurisdiction, I know.”

I was furious. For a measly four hundred dura a day, I’d been thrown at a murderous madman and told to ‘Play Ball!’

Where is Work Health and Safety when you need them? I’d be getting a lifelong payout.

Pen came up to us and smiled at me.

“Good stuff, Marcus! How’s it feel?”

They just don’t get it.

“It feels pretty fucking awful, if i may say so. Being blown apart inside a confession box doesn’t really get the spiritual juices flowing, you know? Feels like Granton isn’t the only employer that betrayed me.”

“Huh.”

Pen chewed the inside of her mouth and stared at me.

“Okay. So, what do you want me to do about it? Shoot straight and I’ll tell you if I can help. You aren’t getting any of my soap though.”

Adam looked like he was about to chime in, but I cut him off. If you haven’t died in the line of duty, you don’t get to skip the handouts-line.

“I’m sick and tired of being so weak. I supposedly have this insane affinity for EXP, and I feel like I’m wasting it by sitting around at the GTA all day. The only reason I hang around is because I’m trying to make up for some shit.”

“I don’t need the life story kid, just spit it out.”

“I want a thousand dura a day, and I’d like to travel. By myself. I’ll work for the GTA four days a week, then focus on getting stronger for the other three. I’ll do anything on my GTA days, but I’d like to do investigations still — I could infiltrate suspects and pretend to be a traveling contractor.”

Pen laughed.

“Absolutely not! A thousand dura a day is absurd for someone with such little experience! I’d try you in that role at, well, three hundred dura a day. I’m not an idiot.”

“Bonuses if I do well?”

“Sure.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

And that, my friends, is how I became a GTA deep-cover detective.