(Strive 10:8)

Let’s take a breather to consider the idea of the lone wolf.

The concept has a certain mystique. A silent killer, seeking company only when it’s advantageous. Stalking the land, solitary and proud, while the pack whispers about him in fear and admiration.

But what if he’s more like an outcast, driven out from society, forced to wander alone, taking food and warmth where he can? And was it one of those lonely strays that made the devil’s bargain, trading their dignity away for meager scraps of meat and affection?

These thoughts and others ran through my mind as I stared at a braceleted Pomeranian in the gondola. It yipped at El, while the raccoon hissed and turned sideways to present a larger profile. The toy dog’s owner, a fashionable dark-skinned lady with a pink bracelet, apologized and scooped it up in her arms, turning away from us.

As in the theater house, I once again noticed the paleness of everyone’s wrist-rings. The gondola was all pastels: peaches and lilacs and chartreuse greens, nothing more saturated than that. If my understanding of the correlation between attributes and color was correct, that seemed to indicate that no one in this car was much stronger than El and me, which suggested one of two things.

Option one: Stat candies, the items that gave rings their hue and people their power, were much harder to acquire after the tutorial. But the forest bunnies had dropped them, so that didn’t seem like the case.

Option two: These people just did not get outside very often. Which I could sympathize with.

Looking out the window at the high stone walls of the city, the second seemed more and more likely to be true. I had zero problems with that. Having made it this far, the people here had built a semblance of a working society, and they were entitled to their happiness. I looked out the window at the people milling about, spell-sun reflecting off their bracelets. Then, in the distance, I spied the X-shaped emblem of Uomo Universale and my mood soured.

“Last stop,” the conductor yelled, making my earpiece crackle, as we clunked onto the ground. Our fellow passengers filed out of the cramped compartment and dispersed into the alleys of the Public Quarter.

It must’ve been a market day or something; the main boulevard was awash with people. Vendors spread their wares on rugs and tarps, hawking all kinds of fruits and vegetables. The raucous cries of merchants and scent of ripe produce filled the air, and we had to fight through the crowd until we finally reached an area where the masses of market goers thinned out. We soon came to the front of Uomo Universale.

Squat as it was, the guildhouse seemed to loom over us, and my throat tightened. Were we really walking back into the same place we’d been arrested literally yesterday? A voice in my head told me to run, but it was too late.

The door swung open to reveal Artem, standing there with his broad face and dark uniform. His ruby-red kada gleamed, and I noted again that it was more deeply colored than most in the city by far. The bearded man greeted me with his characteristic scowl.

“Come with me,” he said.

“Why,” I responded flatly.

His frown deepened. “I can’t tell you, but Master Shaw wishes it.”

“Not a good enough reason,” said El. “Not for me at least.”

“Nor me.”

“Alright, alright,” Master Shaw’s voice called, and he appeared in the doorway, standing outlined against the entrance to his guild. “But let's not talk in the street, at least.”

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The four of us went down to a local dive bar, which happened to be the one we’d noticed before with the picture of the fish drowning in liquor. The place was apparently called The Alcoholic Salmon.

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“I don’t get it,” said El.

I shrugged. “Must be clever in some other language.”

It was still quite early, but the place was already packed and rowdy, with some patrons showing a clear lack of self-restraint. We squeezed past a loud red-faced man to seat ourselves at the last open booth. I could barely hear myself speak; there’d be no danger of anyone else doing the same.

“Security at the elevator seems scant,” I said as we sat down. “Two guards and a crummy building. I’m no expert, but really?”

“I agree with you. It’s a stop-gap solution.” Master Shaw leaned in. “Actually, that’s exactly what I wanted to speak to you about—the permanent one. I propose that we send a group to apprehend the target. Small and discreet. We’ll say it’s an expedition: the researchers have been dying to get some data on the Tower Eramai, so there’s our alibi for us.”

I sat back. They were telling me this because—

“I want you two to be on the team. Rest assured that you’ll be richly rewarded.”

“I can’t,” I said automatically.

Artem snorted. “He’s right, Master Shaw. Why are we wasting our time?” He held up three fingers to indicate our drink order to a harried barmaid across the room, who nodded. “I could easily handle this case myself.”

“By yourself?” I asked. “Don’t you guys have some sort of police force or something?”

“Yeah,” Artem said. “And they’re decent enough at police work. But this is a bounty hunt, outside the high walls. You couldn’t pay most of those cowards enough to venture outside even if you emptied all our coffers.”

“Well, one other person is going, at least,” said Shaw. “And I don’t think I could stop her if I wanted.” And then he said a name that I hoped I’d misheard.

“Selene?” I asked. “Why’s she going?”

Artem and Shaw looked at each other for a brief moment, then Artem actually sneered. He leaned in close enough that I could feel the prickle of his beard. “You didn’t know? That crushed-up dead body in a jar you brought back, the man named Yao? That was her husband.”

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“Holy fuck,” I said, my head in my hands. “I asked her to play a duet with me. She was literally up there waiting for her husband to come back. She didn’t know he was already dead. That’s why she was staring outside the city walls. ‘Half a song.’ I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Hey,” said El. “For what it’s worth, you probably are an idiot. But I don’t think you can pin this one on yourself. How could you’ve known? Mia never said the guy was married.”

We were on the roof of Uomo Universale now, standing on that giant emblem of the guild. From up close, it was clear that the cross-shape on the roof wasn’t an X at all, but a roughly drawn image of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. I looked across at Artem, who stood on the other side.

In the light of Paul’s relentless sun, his kada gleamed vermilion opposite my washed-out yellow, and a discarded street food wrapper blew between us. Master Shaw stood at the side of the ring as arbitrator.

“If you can knock Artem out of the ring,” he said, “you are more than qualified to join the party. He will be trying to do the same to you.”

“I don’t understand why you want this,” El said to me, “although knocking this douchebag out might be its own reward.”

“Out of the ring,” Shaw emphasized. “And no weapons.”

“We have to help Selene,” I said. “She saved us, and this is how we return the favor. And I think… the city needs us.” Far from sounding like an action hero, the words seemed phony and lame when I spoke them.

“How noble.” El licked a hind paw.

“Begin!” called Shaw, and Artem’s aura flared around his large frame with a familiar gesture, red like dark wine. It was the same spell as mine, Harden, from the strength line of the Aspect of Corpus. He lumbered toward me slowly, not bothering with a fighting stance. Torrents of energy shrouded his eyes, but I saw his lips curled in a smile.

I Hardene—

He sank a fist into my stomach before I could finish the gesture, and I spat blood. If I hadn’t had my augmented body… looking up, I saw no compassion in his dark eyes, and a great deal of enjoyment. He wasn’t trying to win the contest. He was using me as a goddamn punching bag.

“Dammit, Artem,” roared Shaw. “This is a test, not a massacre. Show some restraint.”

Artem removed his fist, and I collapsed to my knees.

“Apologies, Master Shaw,” he rumbled. “It won’t happen again.”

I propped myself up on my elbows, and El tapped me with a health bar in her hands, probably stolen. At the moment, I didn’t care. I wolfed the thing down, and my organs lurched back into place. Now I was pissed off.

The hell if I’d let that prick push me around this way. I’d win just to spite him. And if he thought he was that much stronger than me, well, he had another thing coming.

Deliberately, I shifted my fingers into the same six signs, and hellfire enshrouded me.