“So, sir,” Hob said, breaking me out of my thoughts as we approached the exit elevator. “If I may ask, what are these [Ruby Tokens] you have toiled so hard to get?”
I glanced at the windows, making sure they were tinted before I responded to Hob, and I produced one of the tokens and held it up. It looked like a guitar pick made out of ruby glass.
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[Ruby Token]
Rank: Epic | Level: N/A
Description: A ruby chip created to store data within its crystalline lattice.
Durability: 1209/1209
“Sparking with the promise of a new life.”
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“Fluxborn born on Topside or Underside are born with an identity. The Orphanages can alter said identity and eliminate any traces of them being Fluxborn.” I said out loud, finally able to vocalize my responses to Hob. “Fluxborn born in the Otherside, on the other hand, don’t have an identity. So they have to take someone else’s if they ever want to see the sun's light, to look upon Jupiter with their own eyes, move to a place where a night without someone getting shot is the norm rather than the exception, or if they somehow become rich or powerful enough to be accepted as a resident in the Middle Ring. This token contains one full, encoded identity that can be patched into a Fluxborn’s NovaSight and grant them this freedom.”
“I see,” Hob hummed. “And what are these Fluxborn willing to pay for a token?”
I sighed as I exited the car, which had stopped next to the elevators, where now the obelisk had been replaced with a very dull, gray-white concrete terminal. It looked extremely out of place. It also looked effortless to spot. Good job, Elder Dinos.
“One mission,” I answered Hob as we entered the elevator.
“Just that?” Hob asked, unsure if I was telling the whole story.
I nodded. “Just that. One mission, no questions asked. They are only informed of the difficulty level beforehand, and if they think they can handle it, they put their names forward. Remember, most of the time, Ruby Tokens are offered for only the highest difficulty missions.”
“I see,” Hob replied as we entered the elevator, and we both sank back into contemplative silence.
A few minutes later, the doors reopened with a ding near the Otherside Market. I wasted no time and raised my right hand to tap my watch. To my surprise, I felt my fingers tap my wrist. I looked down and saw that my metallic arm, this [Apostate’s Arm] that had been grafted into my flesh, and I refused to think about until the more pressing matters had been resolved, had no wrist terminal.
“Huh, where’s my watch?” I asked Hob. “Was it part of what was consumed to make this arm?”
He nodded eagerly. “Indeed, I was able to influence the process just enough that all the functionalities of the watch have been integrated into your arm.”
That meant that the watch was consumed before the Ecclisiarchy seized all my assets. "Including the personal storage?" Could some of my belongings have survived? The personal inventory module I had bought allowed me to store anything that was not a weapon or armor in a space with a total volume of 30 liters. I didn't often use that large, invisible backpack because it took longer to summon the objects than to pull them out of my pocket, but it would still be good to have the few items I stored in there.
"I'm afraid not, sir." Ah. That deflated me a little. "...But I managed to increase the storage space to 40 liters and significantly increase the summoning speed!"
“Huh,” I mumbled. The extra space and speed were fantastic, but... I really liked that watch. Most people got an integrated terminal chip or something less conspicuous, but I liked watching the watch’s arms move. “Good job,” I mumbled, feeling a pang of loss. Silver had given me that watch for our anniversary.
I shook myself out of the oncoming funk I could feel rearing its head and looked around, spotting a familiar bar to my delight. “The Eye of the Storm” looked as run down as ever. The windows were shuttered, and there wasn’t a single sign of life. The brick and metal building looked ready to collapse.
I knocked on the rusted door set in a depression in the wall three times near the handle, paused, and then twice more near the top hinge. A small hidden panel opened at eye level and scanned my Novas. After a moment, a sliding panel, cleverly hidden in the bricks, opened up to my right, where two eyes, one red and green and the other one red and yellow, squinted at me.
“Purpose?” a gruff male voice said.
“Just passing through,” I replied easily, passing him the green token I had used to gain access to the Orphanage through the opening.
He took the token, and after a moment, he grunted in satisfaction. “Come on in.”
The rusted door slid open noiselessly despite its appearance, and I entered the bar. Whilst the place looked run-down on the outside, the interior of the building was pristine. Well, as pristine as a semi-seedy bar could get. Posters of various bands lined the walls, an ancient pinball machine and a pool table in the far left corner of the bar. There were only six patrons in the bar this time of the day. Two were playing pool, one was at the pinball machine, and one was drinking at the bar, looking dejected. The last two were on either side of the door, looking as inconspicuous as two incognito security guards could.
Behind the bar was a tall, muscular woman with long, black hair, shaved on one side, in a cropped band shirt and neodenim jeans. She looked like she could bench-press me without breaking a sweat and look good while doing it, too.
“Hey!” I said, waving at her. “Did the name change go through?”
She flashed me a wide, bright grin, her vibrant green eyes growing a touch brighter with joy. “Yep! It’s Aria now!”
“About damn time!” I gave her an equally broad smile. “Hey, Aria, what’s up?”
She shrugged and started wiping a glass clean with a rag. It was a strange sight, considering alcohol fabs sterilized any containers you put in them, but every bartender I’d ever come across had this natural instinct when not busy to hold a glass and wipe it clean. Comes with the job, I suppose.
“Not much,” she said, “This soda shortage has been absolute hell. When the only carbonized mixer you have available is orange, your cocktail options shrink significantly, but at least beer sales are up.”
I chuckled as the two covert security guards seemed to relax, with Aria speaking so casually to me. I walked up to the bar and leaned on it, flashing her a wicked grin. “So, I shouldn’t ask for whiskey cola?”
She snorted in amusement. “Best I can do is a Highball. And we both know you’d rather puke your guts out before you drink that.”
I shook my head, smiling. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just passing through anyway.”
Aria’s expression shifted from genial amusement to curiosity. “You’re working again, then?”
I shrugged, tired. “Not out of choice, but yeah. It’s been a long time coming.”
Aria nodded and clicked a button under the bar. She waved at me to follow her in the back, and I went behind the bar and passed through the kitchen to a side room.
“You still go to the Fourth Ring?” I asked her as we walked down a dimly lit corridor.
“You know it!” She said and flexed, her biceps bulging. “Like Steelfist always says, Ironcoats gotta stick together.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Still trying to get Thoron to teach you his internal reinforcement technique?”
She sighed and seemed to deflate a little. “No, I gave up a couple years ago. Steelfist said that it would be at least a decade or two before I could refine my abilities to the point where my body could handle the strain.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“You’ll get there, I’m sure. You’ve got what it takes. You’re Aria the Tornado, for Terra’s sake.” I said in commiseration.
We reached a bronze door, which Aria opened as she looked back at me with a soft smile. “Maybe, Raz, but you know, the bar is good. Guard duty isn’t the most glamorous thing, but it pays well enough that I can get by and live on the Topside, and nobody fucks with me. So, we’ll see.” She shrugged and waved me to enter.
I nodded in acknowledgment and waved at her. “Fair enough. I’ll catch you later.”
“Yeah, stop by! The first drink is on me.” She said with a cheeky grin.
“Now you’re talking!” I said and gave her a wink as she closed the door with a final wave.
I turned around, now alone again, and climbed inside the bronze, bullet-shaped vehicle. I sat on a plush blue seat, and a window opened in front of me as the doors hissed shut.
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[Access Authorized]
Departing in 20 seconds.
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A thought struck me as I sat there, the soft blue light giving everything an ethereal look. “Uh, Hob, buddy?” I asked.
“Yes, sir?” Hob answered, sounding distracted.
“I just realized something. We were in a bar. I was offered a drink, and I felt no compulsion to take it. Even her promise of a free drink doesn’t have that much weight. What’s up with that?”
Hob looked at me, his gaze focusing. “What do you mean?”
I waved my hand in the air dismissively. “You know damn well what I mean. I’ve been binge drinking for three years straight. If not for health restoration items, my liver would have shriveled up and died a long time ago. Before the mission, in the back of my mind was always how to get my next drink. Now, nothing. What’s up with that?”
“Ah!” Hob exclaimed, sounding delighted. “Yes, I took the opportunity of you writhing in agony to purge your system of alcohol and administer powerful medication to remove your addiction.”
I blinked a couple times, shocked at the revelation. “What? Why?”
Hob looked at me with a flat stare. “When I first integrated into the gem, I got to experience the audiovisual component of some of your recent memories. You tried to break into Silver’s vending fab to get a drink.”
My cheeks heated up at the reminder of that shameful behavior. “True.”
“I saw the look that she gave you. Your alcohol dependency would have negatively impacted our chances of survival and your interpersonal relationships. I chose to nip it in the butt.”
“Bud.” I corrected him. “It’s nip it in the bud. Like a flower.”
“Huh. That makes much more sense than my posterior-related theories on the origins of this metaphoric expression,” Hob said thoughtfully.
I shook my head and hands as if trying to chase away annoying bugs, trying to bring us back on target. “Back to the main subject! Hob! Substance purging is incredibly painful, and from what I heard, that medication will fuck you up. Why would you do something like that?” I felt horrified at my friend's actions, well-intentioned as they were.
Hob’s little pangolin face broke into a wide smile. “Well, that was a stroke of genius on my part, if I do say so myself. During the integration process, the healing system of the gem was going haywire. As part of my efforts to limit and concentrate the process into forming your arm, I took the opportunity to push the excess healing to this task.”
He shrugged and shook his head. “You were already in excruciating pain, so the pain of the substance purging was negligible. In fact, the berzerk healing system would have done far more damage to your body and potentially lead to the mutations if not for the purge.”
“I… Wow. I see,” I said, seeing the logic behind his actions. “Uh, thanks, I think? I guess? But, look. I get what you did, and I appreciate you doing it, but I am just putting it out there: for anything related to my health, if I am conscious, please ask me for consent first. If I’m unconscious, like in this instance, I trust you to do what is best for us.”
“Very well, sir. Thank you, sir.” He said and gave me a polite little bow. I wasn’t sure that pangolin bodies were meant to bend like that, but it was cute, so I said nothing.
We settled into a companionable silence, and I pulled out the knife Shal had given me.
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[Doombreaker Knife]
Rarity: Epic (Unique) | Level: 33
Description: A deceptively simple-looking blade made from Pangolin-Steel and engraved in photoconductive gold by a master craftsman.
Subroutine: [Doombreaker’s Sword] - The weapon emits a holohaptic projection around the blade, increasing its reach significantly whilst not affecting weight.
Durability: 144/144
Synchronization: 2%
“Stab the Basilisk in the eye. Let its gaze doom no other.”
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I whistled, impressed with Shal’s gift. Holohaptic weaponry was exceedingly rare due to its complexity and high energy cost, yet somehow, he managed to pack all that tech in a knife.
“Hey Hob, what’s this synchronization at the bottom of the window?”
“I’m not entirely sure, sir. I’ve never seen this statistic before, but it felt important enough to include. I have been monitoring it, and it appears to go up every 43 minutes and 12 seconds.”
“Huh,” I mumbled. “Okay then. Synchronization doesn’t sound like a bad thing, so I guess we’ll have time to figure it out later.”
"Very well, sir," Hob replied, sounding weirdly smug. Then, the item disappeared.
"Hob, where did the weapon go?" I asked, alarm tinging my mental voice.
Hob raised an eyebrow. "Check your inventory."
"No way." I checked, and sure enough. The weapon was there. "How?" I asked, baffled. "I never had authorization to get Militek modules."
Hob shrugged. "When you directed my attention to the arm's armory..." I rolled my eyes at the wordplay, "I noticed that the restriction on weapons and armor was buried deep, but in the end, all I had to do was change a 'no' to a 'yes,' and here we are!"
"Awesome." I breathed out. Moments later, I heard a loud ding, and the door hissed open again. We had arrived. I put thoughts of the knife and my new inventory away and got out of the transportation capsule.
I strode forward and went through a wide arch, entering the Fluxborn Guild. I’d been here many times before, but the sight was still beautiful enough to take my breath away.
The Fluxborn Guild was located inside the great axle between quadrants 1 and 4 of the Outer Ring. Anyone accessing the colossal structure from the Topside or the Underside, provided they were rich or influential enough, could use the elevators crisscrossing its surface to transport themselves down to the Middle Ring. Going through the Otherside brought you to the interior and the Guild.
The Fluxborn Guild had twelve floors, three each on the inside of a cog of titanic size. This stack of cogs slowly rotated in alternating directions, each level rotating at a slightly different speed, making it a mesmerizing sight, especially on the bottom floor looking up at all of them. A rudimentary noise cancellation field kept the sound of the cogs to a low hum.
A polite cough interrupted my gawking. “You’re back.”
I looked down to see a woman staring at me from behind a synthwood desk with brilliant emerald eyes full of mischief and a face framed in golden locks.
“Hey, Vivi!” I waved excitedly and walked over to her. “Long time no see!”
She grinned and jumped up, raising her hand in the air. “What’s up, Raz?”
I, of course, did not leave my girl hanging and smacked her hand. “The cogs,” I said in a ritual the two of us had devised nearly a decade ago.
She laughed in delight and nodded. “That they are. So, what brings your sorry arse to this spinny shithole?”
I smirked at her. “You know, now that you finally got the job at the front desk, you really should be nicer about the guild. Mezzir is doing his best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved dismissively, sat back down, and looked at me intensely. “So, what do you want?”
“I want to hire folks,” I said simply.
She raised her eyebrow at me and looked me up and down. “Well damn, I guess you really are back.” She shook her head with a faint smile, “Target ratings?”
“Estimated. Seven danger and eight influence. Black.” I replied readily.
She whistled and looked at me askance. “You’re in deep shit, huh? Don’t get yourself killed, alright? When is the deadline?”
I grimaced at her words. “Mission is in three days from now. I’ll give it until tomorrow evening. Then, we have planning and training.”
Vivi let out a guffaw. “Hah! Good one. To find people who’ll take a seven, eight, black job within sixteen hours, you’ll either have to lower your standards or have a [Ruby Token] and go open.” She snorted as if she doubted I could find one.
I smiled politely at her as I slid four [Ruby Tokens] towards her. She went pale. “Oh Raz, you are in really deep shit, aren’t you?”
I shrugged and nodded. “Probably far deeper than even I realize. I’m open to any kind of Fluxborn. Can you get it done?”
Vivi nodded eagerly. “Sure, sure. Tell you what, go to the leisure cog, get yourself a room, get some shut-eye, and when you wake up, use your terminal to let me know. I’ll send a list of available and interested people, and you can go meet them.”
“Thanks, Vivi,” I nodded at her, “And once this mission is done, let's grab a drink and catch up. It’s been too long.” She smiled and nodded at me distractedly, already hard at work, so I waved goodbye and headed towards a staircase slowly rotating along the edge of the room. I jumped on and climbed up to the bottom floor of the leisure cog, where a cozy room waited for me, with a soft-looking bed, a thick carpet, and a clean desk with a terminal.
I looked down at myself, still covered in soot, glass, and blood. I was a mess.
“Hmm… Maybe a shower first.”