Benjamin – Citadel #1 ‘Keep Out’

In Giselle’s absence she has somehow managed to morph from attractive and bookish store clerk, to outright supermodel, by way of the neat bun of hair on top of her head that’s skewered by black chopstick looking things. And as if that wasn’t enough of a drastic change, she’s also seen fit to drape herself in formfitting red dress of some almost water like fabric, which leaves little to the imagination.

Having tied up most of my attentions with her beatific transformation, I was brought back to my selves when she enquires.

“Wat iz it papa, I’m sorry I mizzed ze signal before because I waz aving a shower to get ready to go ou-“

Before her eyes went wide at the sweat stains on her father’s leathers and the still visible beads that had stubbornly resurfaced on his forehead, despite his efforts to the contrary with his forearm.

Scowling in turn at me, she addressed her father again.

“Wat iz he threatening you with papa? I knew he waz up to no good when he claimed to be Benjamin! I’m not sure ze weirdo iz even human with that grey ski-“

Looking incredulously at the beautiful woman who had verbally lampooned me's so, Gérard sputtered as he came to my defense.

“W-wat !?! No no my dearezt! You ave it all wrong!...I waz simply overcome with ze enormity of ze work zat waz coming our way sankz to hiz generosity! You must apologize to Sir Benjamin at once!”

Despite her father’s urging, she chose instead to sweep her eyes to me and *Hmph*ed dismissively, before sniffing and turning to her father and demanding.

“So wat waz it zat you needed from me zat waz so urgent papa?”

Sending me a brief expression that spoke of a tortured yet silent apology, Gérard replied deflated.

“Z-zat can wait till tomorrow my little plum, we are just in ze middle of finalizing a con-“

Letting out a frustrated *URGH* while she threw her hands up in the air, not forgetting to shoot another withering glare in my direction whilst the mesmerizing creature sashayed back from whence she came.

Letting out a sigh, Gérard adds wearily.

“Mizter Benjamin if you were ever in any doubt, take it from someone who speakz from experience… Never ave children, zey will be ze death of you.”

Laughing nervously at his apparently quite serious advice, a me rejoins.

“Going off your daughters reaction to me, I don’t think I’m in danger of that particular problem any time soon mate...”

There was an awkward moment where I collectively thought I might have just renewed my infection of foot in mouth disease before the portly man let out a full belly laugh.

Felling the sting of being the butt of my own joke, his laughter drummed home that fact for near a quarter minute, before he was forced to wipe the tears from his eyes and between wheezing breaths added.

“It iz az you say my friend, she certainly iz no fan of yourz… Though if I may be so bold to ask, iz zere a reason for your striking appearance?”

Sighing, a me laments.

“It’s kinda complicated and I’d rather not go into the specifics, but the jist of it is that it’s not by choice and is more to do with the magic we’ve all been subjected to… Now if possible, I’d like to return to the topic we were discussing before your daughter called me names and stormed off?”

Letting out a far more restrained chuckle this time he replies.

“Very well to buziness zen. I ave considered what you said before, however I’m afraid I still don’t know enough about your requezt to reach a decizion.”

Frowning, the me’s not on danger watch could see his point, but letting him know the specifics of what I required of him without the information constrained by some form of nondisclosure, would undoubtedly lead to problems in the future.

Given I universally don’t want to murder someone for simply gossiping a me tries again with a different tact.

“How much remuneration would you require to conduct a specific task, which involves no immediate danger to yourself or your company whenever I request it? The task however would have to be undertaken without asking any questions or disclosing the specific details of it?”

Face now a mask of stone, he was silent for a moment as if to consider carefully, before he rejoins.

“Dezpite being a Merchant clazz in zis new world, I waz not alwayz such you see…In my pazt life I waz but a umble publican, content to pazz my dayz wiz my beautiful Harriet and my handful of a daughter Giselle…I believe the two of you ave met, no?”

letting out a throaty chuckle he continuies.

“However wizin zat simple existence, I developed a senze for people az one no doubt doez when most of zeir job consizts of being amongzt your fellow man. But one day I waz made an offer, not so different from ze one you dangle before me now… Back zen I did not lizzen to my instinctz and made a deal wiz ze devil…to be ignorant of thingz…for a price…”

I made to reply but his moist eyes behind the halting hand demanded my unanimous silence, as he furthered.

“My acquired instinctz told me to turn down ze man, wiz all iz promises of safety and wealth, but I waz greedy you see…wanting to give my preciouz family everysing ze life we led would never, and almost certainly could never… Sadly ze day when my Harriet looked where she should not, waz ze day she ended up paying ze ultimate price for my greed.”

A single tear trickled down his reddened cheeks before he cleared his throat and carried on.

“So please do not take thiz ze wrong way sir Benjamin, but that same knack for reading people haz been screaming at me ever since I laid eyez on you, that I should take what is mine and flee to the ends of ze earth. Now if it waz a matter of simple trade, I could overlook it, but something so dangerous that it cannot be spoken of? No… No, never again…”

Letting his story wash over me’s, we concurred that we were moved, strewth, we were even a little misty eyed at the Frenchman’s tale of woe. But we also concurred that someone who could turn down such an offer and maintain their dignity while doing it, was someone that was worth having as an employee.

So the triumvirate elected to do what any good talent scout would in our position, we redoubled our recruitment efforts.

“5,000 Manamotes.”

Blinking confusedly for a moment his face morphed from grief, to shock then to annoyance as he bit out.

“Did you not just ear wat I said?! I am not a man who can be bought! Especially not for a meazly five souzand manamotez for a job that continuez for eavenz kno-“

Collectively undaunted a me furthers.

“Per button press.”

Looking like a deer in the headlights for a moment, Gérard manages to recover by way of clearing his throat and rejoins much less vehemently.

“I am sorre I can-“

Smile tugging at the corner of my mouth a me prosecutes.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“10,000 Manamotes.”

Choking audibly, the poor guy’s perspiration reflex was beginning to kick whilst he stammers.

“p-please sir Benjamin, I really don-“

Universally smiling, a me unreservedly hammers.

“25,000 Manamotes. Per press. Final offer.”

Wilting like a petunia in the outback’s fifty degree midday sun, the Frenchman releases a few sounds that could potentially be vaguely interpreted as communication from a Neanderthal’s point of view, whilst mopping at his gushing brow in vain.

Letting him collect his…Well…Everything, before continuing, it was a good minute before the man had regained enough of himself to reply.

“V-very well sir Benjamin I will draw up zis c-contract zat you so desire. But p-pleaze, do not make zis poor father regret hiz decizion…”

Multitudinously ecstatic to finally have him on board I gave the sweaty moustache’d man several more assurances of his and his daughters continued well being while we hashed out the finer points of the contract.

The basic rundown of the thing for the more contractually minded was:

Gérard gets paid 25,000 Manamotes whenever he activates the console at the requested time, payable within 48 hours.

Gérard nor Benjamin are allowed to divulge details of Gérard’s work for Benjamin to any other entity.

Should either signatory of the contract break any of the contracts conditions, it will result in a debt to the other signatory of 100,000 Manamotes while also permanently loosing access to the Citadel.

When all was said and done though, most of me kinda felt bad for the poor guy, having corrupted his moral fortitude the way that I had. However, seeing as I just had the recent windfall of mopping up the Manacraven, in a collective fit of generosity, a me shook his hand and transferred 50,000 Manamotes and called it a good faith signing bonus.

Feelings of guilt somewhat assuaged as I waved away his effusive thanks, we were just about to sign when his daughter reappeared. And just like her last apparition, she managed to retard my multiple thought processes, this time in a different, slightly less revealing blue dress and sporting some sparkly jewelry to match.

Hopelessly distracted by her newest iteration, she walked up next to her father confidently and gave him a peck on the check, before her eyes wandered to the paper in front of him.

All of me simultaneously panicked at the impending loss of secrecy to the dagger tongued temptress, leading one of me to shoot my hand out, whilst the father and daughters reactions slowed to a crawl.

Grabbing the paper while the two were still trapped by reality, I retracted my hand and the scrunched thing ignited within my hand, doubtless from the friction generated from the speed of my action. Having effectively incinerated the evidence of my covert plan without incident, I felt universal relief. But when I slowed enough to rejoin the world, I soon learned the hubris of my thinking.

Yet in the triumvirates haste to maintain operational security, we had forgotten the most basic rule of the apocalypse fiction genre.

Always.

Hide.

Your.

Power.

Level.

The rapidly recoiling bodies and paling faces of the two French expats only served to compound the truth of this often times overlooked yet unspoken necessity of the scenario we found our collective selves in.

This wasn’t like when Gérard or Giselle had had an inkling of how much of a threat I posed.

Sure, their senses were telling them to flee, but instincts are something that can be reasonably overcome by the rational mind, especially when it has a lack of evidence to support them.

Now though?

Now he and his daughter knew of the disparity of capability between us, and they were not taking well.

Not well at all.

As the two near plastered themselves against the cubby’s behind the counter, arms frantically grasping for something to shield themselves from this hitherto unannounced threat before them, a me put up both hands slowly in the universal gesture for unarmed surrender and backed away from the pair.

However his daughter was having none of my attempted de-escalation-ary measures.

“D-d-do you see p-papa, he…He iz not h-human!”

Sighing a me supplies apologetically.

“Look I just took the paper away ok, no one’s hurt. So can we just write a new one and sign it after she leav-“

Shaking his head franticly from side to side Gérard stammered.

“N-no mister Benjamin, I-I ave changed my mind! I want n-no part of what e-ever it iz you want of m-me!...I will not disclose ze details we discussed, I-I will even make a contract to n-not discuss it! Then w-we can go our separate ways, I will even return y-your manamotes t-to yo-“

Now collectively resigned to the loss of a potential ally by this point. My multiplicative resignations were rejected however when the somewhat recovered and angry Giselle summoned a half dome of glowing gold between me and them and added vehemently.

“Don’t give him a thing papa! If he wantz hiz Manamotez back, trade zem for information! I saw wat was written on ze paper! If he iz so concerned wiz secrecy and clearly willing to pay so much, it muzt be extremely valuable!...Make ‘im tell uz wat ze console doez!”

I was unsure who was more incredulous when she finished, many me’s or her father.

As the poor man went bug eyed at her then jerkily turned his head to me, one of me fielded the plan of just banishing them to be done with the rapidly escalating debacle. Another elected that I should use [Speak For All] on both of them and be done with it.

All of me acknowledged that that was a temporary measure to a permanent problem and also still well and truly situated in the mind control department. A different me pointed out that if she was willing to threaten me over the mere chance of personal gain, if I continued to leave her alive, she could be an actual threat down the road, if left uncorrected.

As my internal bickering continued, Gérard begged.

“P-pleaze sir Benjamin she doez not mean what she sayz, she iz juzt a child!!”

Still unperturbed by her father’s denial Giselle persists.

“No papa, I meant every word, make ze red eyed fre-“

But Gérard clamped a hand over her mouth and pleads whilst she struggles to get free.

“I w-will make her see senze! P-pleaze! She…She iz all I ave left….”

Internal deliberations done a me offers.

“Look, things have gotten a little…out of hand…and you seem like a reasonable guy, all things considered…”

Pausing for effect as a me looked to his red faced and valiantly struggling, temporary mute of a daughter, before continuing.

“But what was a question before, is now an instruction. You still get paid, but now the liability that is Giselle, means that she’s a signatory to the contract as well.”

Un-amenable to my addendum, he begins.

“N-no sir I cann-“

But two of me don’t let him finish by way of using the power of jolly cooperation to move me through the flimsy golden veil and unresisting white counter to within a foot of them, whilst bits of counter exploded outwards, peppering the stores interior to the left and right of my passage while motes of golden light evaporate into the air.

Looming over the two objects of my collective ire, they both looked to me with more whites of their eyes showing than I thought was physically possible.

Acknowledging the pang of sadness that budded within me as I looked down on their small, fragile faces, one of me ground out in my best ‘I have had enough of your shit’ voice.

“Get. Writing.”

Musing to my selves as the waterworks of Gérard’s skin resumed while he shakily scribbled and sweated over a fresh bit of paper. I would have thought my display would have caused some sort of security feature to kick in for destruction of property, but on collective reflection, given that I’m the administrator of the whole damn place, I guess it designates me as exempt from all such features.

One of me pointed out that he should include a death clause to really drive home the importance I put onto this task. But one of me drew attention to the fact the way Giselle had taken to crouching and shivering in a corner in her own puddle of expanding yellow, whilst fixedly looking only at the floor. Taking no pride in her reaction, it at least had the small upside of how she was likely not to forget my unanimous opinions on this certain subject any time soon.

When the Frenchman was done, he jerkily gave me the mildly moist page to inspect and nodding at its slightly altered contents, a me signed it and passed it back. He didn’t even look up at me as he shakily signed the paper before shuffling over to his progeny and putting the paper against the wall, placed the pencil in her unresisting hand and forced out a mark I could only assume counted as her signature.

Whispering a quiet apology to the unresponsive girl, he then did his best to straighten himself and focused on the paper, before it vanished into a flash of light:

You have entered into a Lesser Permanent Contract with Gérard and Giselle, all terms and conditions apply.

Nodding to myself a me adds.

“I have a few things to sort out first, but come midday tomorrow Gérard, I require your presence at the only blank wall at the base of the Citadel’s central column, to start fulfilling your part of the contract.”

Still not meeting my eyes the man nodded weakly, and the many me’s began to feel regret for the way things had gone.

Yet, being the consummate denial-ist survivor that we are, we instead turned my attentions to preparations and left the two to recover from the monstrous thing I had become.