Benjamin – Citadel #1 ‘Keep Out’

The atmosphere is tense.

The French contingent unrelenting with their befuddled yet nervous smiling.

The silence stretches on between us as we collectively continue to furnish our french comrade with a flat and unimpressed look. Thus one of me votes to divulge just how many siphons we’ve cleared in the hope of impressing our present company with our violently xenophobic diligence. Meanwhile another me vehemently cautions against it, lest he not focus on the important theme of humanitarian defense, to instead ask about what the rewards for such homicidally repetitive actions might have been. In turn none of me could at all hold him responsible for labeling us a greed-ridden-manamote-whore.

A third me however, begins to wonder why we’re all so afraid of loosing the respect of our only merchant acquaintance with a hot daughter. Following which it concedes in minds one favor for completely freedom of information based reasons and nothing remotely nearing hopes of impressing by association a certain French forked tongued lady...

Internal deadlock broken a me hesitantly offers.

“Right now, the figure is somewhere healthily north of a thousand.”

The impressively mustached Initiate Merchant blinks at us like he’s unsure whether or not we're a mirage.

Collectively starting to believe one of me might have to retrieve some water from Mr Pocket to help him rejoin the conversation, he seems to gradually manage just fine on his own as he stammers.

“Z-zat iz not…H-how can you even…sorre b-but how long ave you been doing zis?”

Our free shrug causes our armor to rasp as one of me counters mischievously.

“Since the first one.”

He clearly detects the intent behind my paltry ruse by way of letting out a groan before adding.

“You know wat I meant Benjamin...”

Chuckling a me supplies.

“Well I was taking the mickey, but I really did get sucked into the first one and from then on, most of my free time has been going into them…literally...”

Eyeing us skeptically once more while one of me laughs at it's own terrible joke, he inquires.

“But wat about sleeping, eating and your friendz?… Zen zere iz ze fact zat you are away from ze earth for monthz at a time? You cannot expect me to believe zat you simpl-“

Holding up a hand a me forestalls his further insinuations that we’re pulling his leg and counters.

“Well I don’t really sleep or eat anymore and I don’t really have any friends...But being consistently absent from earth bit is definitely true, which is part of the reason I’m asking you for advice abou-“

But he cuts the me off with incredulous hurt, thick in his voice.

“But Sir Benjamin are we not friendz?!”

Hardly needing to convene the Triumvirate to hash out our stance a me rejoins.

“Well when taking into account how we met and all the interactions we’ve had since? I would say you more an advisor at this point.”

Clearly confused by my answer he pauses before countering.

“But…But I ave called you friend several timez and you ave not once denied it?!”

Three of me concur that he is indeed correct before a me rebuts with my apparently faulty assumption.

“Y-yeah but that’s just something people say…like ‘mate’ isn’t it?”

Gérard runs a hand through his hair before shaking his head bewilderedly and replies with sincerity thick in his tone.

“Well certainly zis iz true, but I can assure you when I ave said it to you… it waz not meant az an empty platitude…”

Blinking as three of me are lost for words, the silence generated by the Frenchman’s omission stretches before we realize that he is still looking to us expectantly.

The triumvirate convenes as we are flummoxed as to how to handle the matter of French foreign policy and accepting human friendship.

One of me wonders how we handled such matters with Bruce as he was our friend. Another me corrects the notion, labeling him more as a mentor or parental figure. However it’s the third me that comes up with the brilliant stratagem of telling him that we would be glad to be friends with him!

French foreign policy ratified, one of me offers.

“Sorry mate...I’d be more then happy to call you a friend…S-Sorry for assuming…Y-You know…”

Beaming, the jolly merchant waves away my feeble attempt at explanation as he continues to prosecute.

“And wat about zose ‘delinquents’ az you call them…are zey not your friendz?”

After a quick internal review a me offers.

“No way, they are most definitely min...er…employees.”

Seeming to interpret something that was clearly not within my answer his eyes sparkle with mirth as he taunts.

“Yes I am certain you are correct…”

Scowling at the unrepentant…friend…We elect to steer us back to firmer conversational footing.

“That aside…With what you now know...What do you think I should do?”

Gérard acquires a somberly pensive look as he strokes his goatee before offering.

“Well if it iz az you say, zen it iz imperative zat you keep doing wat you are doing, at leazt until such a time az uz humanz can put up more of a fight.”

Collectively, if grudgingly, acknowledging the role we have to maintain for our embarrassingly weak ex-species, a me queries with hope seeping into my voice.

“Sure, I’m mean I’m a creature of habit anyway so even if you said do nothing, I still probably would keep on clearing them...But seeing we're on the topic of other people…do you think you would be up to handling something like a diplomatic role?”

His eyebrows rise as he inquires.

“Wat exactly did you ave in mind?”

Smiling, one of me furthers.

“Basically along the lines of my original idea, liaising with the big organizations, factions or whatever and spreading a bit of helpful inf-“

His belly laugh halts then me and as we collectively look to him for an explanation, we're left wanting for a not-so-good and uncomfortable ten or so seconds. Eventually he rejoins to my universally nonplussed face whilst wiping at the corner of his weeping eyes.

“My apologizez my friend, it iz just… Wat you are azking of me iz so ludicrouz I could not elp it!”

Quirking an eyebrow a me counters in mock incredulity.

“Weren’t you the one who just told me I should go back to jumping in and out of dimensional pockets and killing monstrous aliens as fast as I can?”

His mirth falters as he offers weakly.

“B-but zat iz you sir Benjamin…You are ze main reason we both sit ere in zis magical building…Me? I am but a simple merchant riding upon your coat tailz…”

Scowling at my…friends… unwarranted self depreciation of his people skills that any of me will likely never possess. A me probes.

“Don’t you want to be more though? To use this system to make yourself into something more? To become something better?”

Blinking, he amends.

“Of courze…However my Initiate Merchant and Apprentice Clerk class ave no skillz to elp with zis matter...If you wish me to sell zingz to zem I am more zan appy to do zis...But to make agreements and convinze ozers in matters of military cooperation? I am sorry but I cannot d-“

One of me wants to irrationally yell at the man that if he has the balls to tell me to stall my own advancement to play planetary babysitter, then the least he can at least fucking do what we want! Another votes to respect his wish, and a third me hedges that we should appeal to his greed.

Taking the median path, a grumbling consensus is formed as a me cuts him off.

“Yes you can mate! Look, I don’t want you to fight any big nasty ass monsters or cut deals with duplicitous pointy eared aliens…Just chat to some people and if they say no well no harm no foul right?”

Thankfully he does not reject the notion outright this time, instead countering.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“I mean if zat iz all zere iz to et…I suppoze I could try…But you would ave to come wiz me t-”

Disavowing him of such a foolish notion I interject.

“Nah mate that’s not gonna work, have you not seen the extremely negative effect I have on basically everyone?”

Eyeing me skeptically he rejoins.

“You over exaggerate my friend et ez n-“

Proffering him my ‘what the fuck are you smoking face’, a me prompts.

“So your daughter thinks highly of me then?”

Gérard’s hilarious grimace almost makes up for the confirmation that the vivacious French woman’s loathing could indeed power a nuclear submarine with the sheer intensity of its radioactivity, for at least a couple centuries.

And while one of me is consoling another me in mourning over the loss of something that never was, a third me receives his grudging reply while barely withholding its own emotional despondency from our face.

“I…My daughter is a complicated woman Sir Benjamin...Pleaze do not take ‘er opinion to ‘art.”

Valiantly one of me not sulking in the proverbial corner maintains our facade as it counters.

“Think nothing of it mate. My point is hers is hardly the most negative reaction i’ve been in receipt of in just the past month or so. Now keeping in mind that I’m like walking kryptonite to anyone’s happiness, do you still think it’s a good idea for me to be present when trying to engage in negotiations?”

He huffs before conceding.

“Very well…B-But I cannot go wiz juzt words and empty promisez… If I am to do zis sing, I will need to ave something to bargain wiz or zey probably won’t even agree to meeting me…”

Shrugging freely, a me offers.

“I see no problems in giving you some bribe money if that’s what you need?”

Laughing a little nervously he rejoins.

“Ze more I sink about your wordz ze more I am assured zat it iz indeed better zat I do zis…But I suppoze some kind of financial aide would predispoze zem to our ideaz...”

Nodding, a me grabs his hand as another me belatedly points out that judging by his shocked reaction and attempted recoil, we might have a longer way to go as a species then any of me thought. Meanwhile the me who’s no longer being consoled over a unattainable French supermodel, mentally wills a transfer of some walking around manamotes to the surprised Initiate Merchant:

You have transferred 2,500,000 Manamotes to Initiate Merchant level 63.

He stays stock still for a few seconds and one of me worries that we accidentally just killed the jovially rotund fellow with a heart attack. Then his lips start to noiselessly mouth something and one of me almost goes into combat mode due to the errant thought that he’s attempting to use some kind of skill.

Finally the man ceases his silent oration as he stammers at me’s with wide eyes.

“t-t-two million f-f-five undred s-souzand.”

Perking up at the explanation, one of me chides that such sums aren’t likely easily attainable unless you’re a shunned and unfairly maligned murder-hobo, whilst another me prods.

“That should be enough for some glad handing right?”

He massages his brow as he bemoans.

“Zis…zis iz too much my friend! I cannot…What if I looze et? You should take et back!”

Waving him down one of me defends.

“I have plenty mate, no need to worry so much over a few bob…”

Seeing he is clearly unconvinced, another me furthers.

“Think of it like its your own money, like a bonus and thanks for helping out with this, so just keep whatever you don’t want to bribe the self interested assholes with.”

A revolution breaks out upon the Frenchman’s face, the conflict of warring emotions plays out in a matter of seconds and one of me reckons he ended up somewhere around helpless resignation as he replies after sighing.

“If you are certain…but for my own safety I will be leaving mozt of et somewhere safe yez?”

The me shrugs once more as it adds.

“No worries mate, do what you gotta do! Oh and I can send some of the Delinquents with you i-”

Gérard shakes his head sharply as he interrupts.

“No no, zat would send ze wrong mezsage! Perhapz even draw some unwanted attentionz…But zat aside…I will give et my bezt shot, on zis you ave my word!”

Waving the man down a me counters.

“Don’t stress too much over it Gérard, if it doesn’t work out we can always go it alone…”

He views us with concern for a moment before eliciting.

“By zat you mean?…”

To which we advise the man in a tone that is far more sedate than any of me feel about the topic at hand.

“Well I’m not arrogant enough to think I can keep the invaders out forever, and I can only be in a single place at once... So eventually it will just be the people in the Citadel and the strongest settlements remaining to decide the course our species charts through this mess...”

My…friend… starts to go pale again and one of me wonders about the efficacy of subjecting him to such a roller coaster of emotions, and whether or not we should withhold certain truths from him to maintain our budding friendship.

Another me quashes such an idea, because as happy as we all are to have a friend, it is not worth compromising ourselves by way of lies and deception.

A third me concurs and the triumvirate rests as my conversational partner counters halfheartedly.

“I sink humanz may be more capable of overcoming our differencez zen you know Sir Benjamin...”

But he interprets our rejoining skeptical face correctly as he finishes even more weakly then when he began.

“At leazt zat iz my ope az a fazzer…”

Three of me start to feel a little shitty about our no bullshit policy so one of me attempts to make a swift exit.

“From your mouth to whatever passes for a god ears these days mate! Oh and by the way I’ll dump the new harvested materials in the Citadels storage space for you to liquidate at your leisure…You know, when your finished making new world peace and stuff...”

Taking his somewhat mechanically absent nod as agreement to continue being our auction house guy, a me adds.

“Anyho I think I’ve taken up enough of your time already, and sorry for interrupting...Whatever that was with your daughter...S-So yeah, I’m just gon-“

Yet Gérard seems to take offense at our attempted exit as he cuts the me off.

“Nonsenze! You muzt stay and talk wiz me some more!”

Torn in three ways between being uncomfortable about being around someone so…kind…for so long, being afraid that we might break him again if any of us say the wrong thing, and thinking of all the potentially overpowered traits we could be missing out on by just sitting and...talking...

Huffing in unilateral resignation, we collectively sit down as a me asks not in the least bit petulantly.

“So what do you wanna talk about?”

Grinning like he has just scored some kind of exceedingly difficult victory, he queries.

“Well for a start, ‘ow come your 'air is shorter?”

Huffing once more a me offers.

“Occupational health and safety volcano bath.”

He begins to chortle until he notices our decidedly unhappy expression and follows up.

“Y-you were j-joking correct?”

And so the back and forth of…friendly…conversation continues for long enough that the me's eventually produce some wine and spirits in a bid to help console the man on account of his daughter having just left the post apocalyptic nest.

Sadly though, we've run out of that Kivar guys stuff so I try to enjoy the definitely lacking flavor of the cheaper variety booze and only marginally succeed.

For his part however, Gérard seems to be sufficiently buoyed by my ‘Simply prepozterouz talez!’...and free booze.

And so as the hours pass, three of me think we're free and clear of companionship duty by way of having run out of heavily redacted friend friendly stories, and make to once more politely extricate ourselves.

Its at this point however the now slurring Initiate Merchant chooses to hit us with an unexpected curve ball.

“Hoow do you do eeet Siir Benjjjjamin?”

Three of me not entirely sure what he’s on about, counter.

“Do what exactly mate?”

He gesticulates somewhat inaccurately, to my still donned plate armor then to the walls that hem us in and amends.

“Keeep going innnzpite of all ze deass an chaozzz?”

All three minds are torn as to if he should learn of our true motivations, instead we opt to unilaterally try to defuse the seriousness of his intent by a me offering.

“Well it helps a lot that I’m really bloody awesome!”

He tries to scoff but it comes out as a long raspberry, following it up with an emphatically waggled index finger as he persists.

“No nno Sir Ben! Can I call yoou Sir Ben? I’ll callll you sir ben…Sir Ben!...*hic*...Zis iz extremely emportant! I muzt know wat motivatez my leader and friend!”

Sighing superfluously the triumvirate grudgingly concedes he does indeed have a right to know, as one of me rejoins.

“Revenge.”

He looks at me for a few seconds while his head seems to bob to counter some unknown turbulence, before he overcomes it long enough to further gravely.

“Wat kind of revvvvenge would drrrrive a man to do wat you aaaave done?”

Having already come this far a me adds.

“The system took somethi-someone precious from me...So I’m not going to stop using any and every advantage it has to offer, right up until I have enough power to destroy the whole fucking thing...”

Nodding sagely he halts mid follow up nod and holds a fist to his screwed up mouth as if to cork an unwanted utterance, before his adam’s apple bobs and he releases an exceedingly wet hiccup.

Clearing his throat he seems to require an incredible amount of will to refocus upon us before he probes.

“I see, It muzt be hard to livvve on without waaan so preciouz to you…*hic*…Tell me who waaaz zis special someone, zat can move a mannn so much az to turn him inttto such a…*hic*…Formidable existanzzz?”

The deep pang of collective loss feels as raw as the moment we knew our pupper wasn’t ever coming back.

Two of me fight against bursting into tears, whilst a third manages.

“He was a dog...M-my dog...Maxxy”

The inebriated man sways where he sits whilst blinking at me's…Then to my's triplicate horror and shame he burst into raucous laughter that goes on and on before he manages to choke out between gasps.

“Ze big baaaaad Benjamin zat…*gasp*… everywan iz oh so scared of…*gasp*…Ze scooourge of ze Shaktiii...*hic*...Iz only doing it all for hiz lost little dowgy…*gasp*…When ze oz-“

Our multiplicative pain morphs into anger in an instant and the bottle laden, ornately crafted wooden table disintegrates, along with encumbent bottles to fragment into a shower of multicolored splinters that pepper the room at large.

The power of un-jolly cooperation brings us in front of the mildly lacerated employee and my minds barely restrain our strength in time to retardthe me's' flick to his forehead with our gauntleted hand, so as not to kill him outright.

One of me even goes so far as to use [Lesser Matter Manipulation] on his head to lessen the recoil, owing to the nanosecond quick pang of guilt at having to resort to violence once more, to solve our problems.

Thankfully, the forceful disillusionment of the friendship is enough to temporarily silence his drunken taunting as a with the aid of our new trait our mind lifts his unconscious yet breathing form into the air.

Walking him dourly to his room our anger still seethes at his wounding words of drunken derision and as fleeting as it may be, some of me most assuredly think it is a good idea to snap his ungratefully comatose neck.

Overcoming our passing lust for inordinate retribution, we instead retrieve a healing potion from Mr Pocket and force feed it to the insensate Initiate Merchant.

After confirming the dripping wounds expel the shard like fragments embedded within them and seal up, we universally leave the man to his drunken dreaming and open a [Lesser Dimensional Portal].

With the destination of the Delinquents headquarters in mind, one of me wonders if it’s wise to deal with them when we're still so agitated. Another me points out that once I’ve leveled them up some more, I can go back to monster slaughtering for at least a couple of months, completely free and clear with no strings attached.

A third me points out that we should probably restock Mr Pockets refreshments before we take on delinquent sitting duties and see if the terminal auction house finally has a chair that can withstand our largess.

The first me concurs with mind two and three and promptly cancels the portal skill before reactivating it with the alternate destination in mind.

And so having gained and lost a friend in a matter of hours, my's quest for magically systemic revengening carries on, bereft of the cloying suffocation of friendship and its belittling demands and verbally abusive compromise.