ã€ŠDivinity Led Growthã€‹


 Chapter 0: Redundant (Again)

    "Your services are no longer needed, Hero."

    For the second time today, my world came crashing to a halt. I¡¯d barely even started this time around. Maybe I was still in shock, maybe it was too much to take in, or maybe it was never real to begin with. But with those words a seeping numbness overflowed from my chest, leeched life from my limbs, and seemed to pool in my ears in a roaring buzzing. As my vision darkened I felt I was falling backwards into an unending abyss, the scene before me shrinking, condensing into pinholes of light. Once again, everything went dark.

    ? ? ?

    The day felt off from the moment I stepped into the office. I was early, even more than usual. I had some retrospective wrap-up materials to review, and some customer interview transcripts I wanted to make sure were in order before our next sprint planning meeting later today. Nothing critical, but I wanted to give it my full attention, so I figured the quiet before my coworkers arrived would be ideal.

    But the office lights were unexpectedly on when I left the elevator lobby. While there weren¡¯t many folks in yet, there were more than I expected, some folks I knew from IT buzzing around, talking in hushed tones. I made my way to my desk, and saw some group leaders huddled together in a conference room. My boss, Prema, was among them. Just in case, I made eye contact with her as I walked past the glass wall so she knew I was in. She nodded at me, then turned to say something to the others. Was there an internal network issue? Outage event? I reached my desk and pulled out my laptop and to log in. If it was an all-hands-on-deck moment, I¡¯d better get connected and ready to pitch in. The floor was still eerily quiet. While typical for this time of morning, the air was tense with more people moving around than you¡¯d expect.

    "Mai, do you have a moment?"

    I swiveled around to see Prema had appeared behind me, a tense look on her face.

    "Sure, what¡¯s up? Something going on?" I queried, trying to get some context for what was needed. It seemed my hunch was right, something happened and we all needed to step up. Giving up on my plans for the morning, I unplugged my laptop and started to carry it with me as I stood.

    "Leave your computer, you won¡¯t need it. We''ve reserved Unicorn upstairs. Go on ahead, and when you get there they''ll tell you next steps." Unicorn was a conference room one floor up. Something big must be happening if they¡¯d booked a room to manage it.

    "Okay, then," I agreed. It seemed odd, but I left my laptop and started up the stairs to the next floor to learn more. Figure it out, first, then figure out what to do.

    I badged in from the stairwell and climbed up to the 5th floor. It was mostly back office folks, Finance, Legal, HR. Ours was one of the older tech companies, and we¡¯d been publicly traded for a while now. While Complyze is nowhere near the likes of a Google or Amazon, we¡¯d carved out a niche in enterprise automation and compliance software. We were modestly profitable. We weren¡¯t exactly a household name, but chances were a company whose product you used leveraged our software if you were in the US, and increasingly in Europe and Japan. I''d been here about 6 years, a lengthy time in the Tech world. But I''d earned a lot of freedom in what I worked on and how I did it. And there was always something new to build, a system to improve, a problem to solve.

    I peripherally noticed lots of folks and activity here, too, on my way through the open floor. But it was nearing the end of the fiscal year, so it wasn¡¯t too unusual to see a burst of work closing out books and completing new forecasts for the upcoming year. Still, it seemed off somehow. Strained. Maybe the sense of emergency is coloring my perception.

    I reached Unicorn, a more private, medium-sized conference room toward the far end of the floor, and opened the door. I froze briefly at the threshold, seeing two figures already inside. A woman I didn¡¯t recognize, but I knew the other well enough ¨C Ben Brandt. Both of us had joined Complyze at around the same time, though we weren¡¯t close. Ben started off in a senior role in my department, but he was the VP of Strategy now. His career trajectory far exceeded mine as a Product Manager, and we moved within different circles. I wondered for a moment if I¡¯d entered the wrong conference room by mistake, but Ben looked up with a small smile and beckoned me to sit.

    "Mairead, come in. This is Jeanne from HR." He pronounced it "my-REED" instead of "MY-raid", which grated on my ears, but I was used to letting it go by now. I sat gingerly in the chair across from them both with confusion. Ben''s serene smile never changed, but his eyes were cool.

    "There¡¯s never an easy way to say this," Ben sighed heavily and looked across the table with his hands clasped in front of him. The HR rep tapped quietly at her keyboard, not looking up.

    "Mairead, your services are no longer required at our company."

    ? ? ?

    Silence stretched on between us as I tried to understand what was said.

    "Your position has been eliminated as part of a company-wide restructuring." Ben resumed, still staring straight ahead, the small smile never leaving his lips. His voice was even and cool. "Today is your last day."

    I swallowed, my eyes dropping down to my hands on the table, struggling to process.

    "Typically we would now discuss your severance package and other logistical details, but in this case," He paused, and picked up a paper in front of him, "that''s not necessary." I looked up sharply in confusion. "Due to evidence in our possession of misappropriation of funds, we will not be offering any form of severance or exit package. You understand what I mean, right Mairead?"

    The HR rep continued tapping away at her keyboard as I stared ahead at Ben, blinking in confusion. Ben wore an expression of tired resignation, but his eyes glinted fiercely as he waited for my response.

    "I don¡¯t understand any of this. What do you mean, misappropriation?" I finally got the words out, my face felt flushed and hot. My heart was beating rapidly, but it felt like a distant drum, apart from me.

    Ben gave another performative sigh, and sorted through a set of plain manila folders in front of him. He opened one, and began laying papers out on the table in front of me. I stared at them blankly. They looked like printouts of invoices. The HR rep tapped away, the only sound for the space of a few breaths, an eternity.

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    "In the past 3 months, you submitted falsified invoices from contractors for amounts above and beyond their typical rates, or for services not rendered." He laid another piece of paper on top of the invoices. "We have statements from one of these contractors that you coerced them into a partnership where they would submit these false invoices in return for continued business with our company, and they would deliver the excess amounts to you." He waited a moment to gauge my reaction, before collecting the materials again and closing the folder. "Of course, this is likely the tip of the iceberg. We are currently conducting an audit of past transactions and deals you have been party to, as well as interviews with additional vendors to see how far this corruption goes. But, Mairead, I have to say I¡¯m extremely disappointed." His face shifted into a mask of sadness, his voice a caricature of parental concern, but his eyes were hard.

    "I don¡¯t know about any of this!" my voice rising higher than intended, my mind racing to make sense of what I was hearing and seeing. I could remotely feel the sweat dampening the back of my shirt and palms, my heartbeat now thudded in my ears. None of this made any sense. It couldn¡¯t be real.

    The constant tapping of the HR rep stopped, and she seemed to look up at me for the first time, eyes dead and cold. Ben, too, watched me warily, but his eyes were calculating. The silence stretched out, the only sound the thudding of my heart beating in my ears.

    "In light of this evidence, we considered pressing charges." He continued, his tone now soft and light, as if he was talking about menu options at a restaurant. "But to protect the reputation of this company, we would prefer to handle this in a more discrete manner. Although you stole," Ben paused to emphasize the word, "significantly more than our typical severance, we will consider that amount your exit package. We will not press charges, so long as you sign this agreement to not disclose your crimes or make any disparaging remarks about the company, etc., etc." Ben pulled out another packet of papers and slid them across the table in front of me. "In exchange, you''ll avoid arrest, trial, and jail." Ben paused briefly to let it sink in, before resuming "I suggest you consider it carefully and sign. You have one week before we take up this matter with the authorities. For our own protection, of course."

    I sat, head in hands, staring at the table and the packet of papers in front of me, uncomprehending. Ben stood up and left the room, and the HR rep began to recite a litany of logistical details regarding the end of benefits, recovering company equipment, and collecting personal effects. Shortly thereafter, Ben returned with a large security officer holding a foldable cardboard moving box which the man pushed into my hands. By the shifting weight, it contained the small amount of personal things I''d kept at my desk. I was momentarily taken aback by how light it was. Ben picked up the packet left on the desk, opened the lid on the box, and dropped the papers inside.

    "Think about it, Mairead. Then do the right thing. For the company, and for yourself."

    I was led listlessly out of the room and down the hall. I noticed a couple of other rooms with other scenes playing out, with HR personnel, managers, and employees presumably receiving the news of their layoff. I saw some tears, some familiar looks of shock, heard some angry voices. Dan Peters, who I knew from Sales Development, was sitting in shock, barely reacting. Another room had a young man I didn¡¯t know nodding quietly, looking dead-eyed at the paperwork in front of him as an HR rep read off her screen. I saw an office with a woman from Support whose name I couldn¡¯t recall. She was alone, arms tucked in and bent over a table with her back toward the glass, quietly shaking, a tissue pressed against her face. In the last office in the row I recognized Bushra Patel, from Engineering. I''d worked with her before on a project. She was leaning far across the small conference table, one arm braced against the table and the other pointing emphatically at Jon Hu, the VP of Engineering. Her bright red blazer was like a red flag waving, and Jon seemed frozen before the onslaught, eyes wide. A different security guard arrived jogging down the hall with Thorsten van den Berg, the CMO. They quickly entered the room to restrain her, blasting the hall with her outrage.

    "You lying bastard! You can¡¯t do this! I¡¯ll¡­!"

    The door closed muffling the continued shouting, and the security guard at my side pulled my elbow along before any more could be heard. Clusters of people stood a distance away, some faces wide-eyed in shock, some idly curious, some looked away. But I was in a daze. If everything could just stop for a moment and let me figure this out. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. My head was pounding, my hands clenched on the box. I had to figure it out, to fix it somehow¡­

    As we entered the elevator lobby, I saw Prema standing there, looking at me with an unreadable expression. My eyes met hers, her mouth pinched. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and turned away. A sharp pain twisted in my gut. My throat seized shut. No words came. An elevator opened. The security guard escorted me inside, and out of the building.

    ? ? ?

    I stood at the curb, blasts of brisk wintry air from the rush hour traffic abraded my hands where I held tightly to the box. I clung to the sensation, as if the box and the cold were the only real things left in the world. The clamor of passing vehicles drove away the whispers and gossip of bystanders, but it didn¡¯t take away their stares.

    It made no sense.

    Stealing? From the company? Me?

    How?

    Why?

    Ben¡¯s face flashed in my mind, his eyes looking at me like so much mud on the hem of his trousers.

    I did everything right. I didn¡¯t so much as accept a free drink from our suppliers. This had to be a mistake. Right?

    How do I fix this? Where did it go wrong?

    I don¡¯t know how long I just stood there, my mind blank, thoughts spiraling.

    Suddenly thinking I should contact someone, I shifted the box awkwardly under my arm and reached in my pocket for my phone. But once I had it out, I had no idea what to do with it. Call someone? Who? A lawyer? A colleague? Maybe Prema could...no. I couldn''t figure out what to do next.

    "You!"

    I felt a rough hand grab my shoulder, and spin me around. In surprise, I let go of the box and my phone, and they clattered to the ground. The box spilled its contents across the broad sidewalk, while my phone skittered along the cement.

    "You bitch! This is your fault!" the enraged male voice yelled.

    "Wha¡­" I gasped in reflex, as a sudden burst of pain erupted all along the side of my face. Wildly off balance, I stumbled back and fell to the sidewalk.

    "I¡¯ve lost everything because of you! How I¡¯m gonna feed my family? Hunh!?" A shadowed form loomed huge above me, breathing heavily. My cheek was throbbing with a numbing ache where I was hit. I squinted at the figure, and recognized him. Bill? Bruce? I couldn''t recall exactly. But he was a manager from the supplier I''d worked with, the same company on the invoice Ben showed me earlier. Heat rushed to my head, burning away the numbness.

    "Why?!" I launched up at the man, grabbing his coat and clung to him. "What did you do?! Why did you do it?!" I was nowhere near his size, but any fear was incinerated to ash as an all-consuming rage flared within me.

    "Get off me!" he tore at my hands, trying to push me away, but I grabbed at him again and again.

    "Why?!" I screamed. "Why?!"

    "Me?!? You fucked us both! Couldn¡¯t leave well enough alone! All you had to do was shut your mouth!" His eyes blazed with rage, spittle flying through the air as we grappled together. "Didn¡¯t they offer you enough? Greedy bitch!"

    "Hey, stop it!" a high-pitched voice called out, "Not in the street, you idiots!" I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye, before the man finally freed himself with a vicious shove. I tumbled, my heel turning off the edge of the curb, arms flailing for purchase as I stumbled backwards into the street. I heard a low horn blast close to my ear, and a high-pitched squeal. An oddly warm rush of wind enveloped me for a second, followed by a terrible, crunching impact and white hot pain. My feet left the ground and I fell into darkness.

 Chapter 1: Hero, Interrupted

    I blinked. Everything started again.

    As bright as it was dark a moment ago, I stared up at the light.

    "Well met, Hero" a gentle and melodious voice seemed to surround me and fill me from within. The light in front of me coalesced into a youthful and smiling face. Long silver white hair framed delicately masculine features and fell toward me as if looking down from above. Which I suppose it ¨C he? ¨C was. I was lying on my back, with something smooth and cool but not uncomfortable supporting me from below.

    The face leaned back out of vision, and I tentatively lifted myself up on my elbows. No pain, no discomfort. I looked around, and all I could see was a soft golden light. The warm glow seemed to be shining from behind the figure kneeling next to me¡­no, the light was coming from him, radiating out like rays of the sun.

    "You are between worlds, at the moment. You are safe." His smile widened in welcome, his golden eyes glimmering. "We are a God, Iter, and We have summoned you from your world to aid another." I noticed then that his lips weren''t moving when he talked.

    "Hungh?" I eloquently replied. This didn''t feel like a dream. But maybe it has all been a nightmare. My heart was still beating hard from the adrenaline coursing through my system, and I crawled backwards, glancing wildly around me for anything real I could latch onto. The lustrous light emanated from every direction, nothing interrupted that bright expanse to give reference or context ¨C nothing but the figure before me, watching calmly as I flailed about.

    His size was difficult to determine, whether due to the lack of perspective in this place, or perhaps some other trick of perception. He seemed to fill the space with his presence. His robes were multi-layered, a nearly translucent and shimmering layer on top, with heavy and heavily patterned white-on-white cloth with intricate silver trim below. It reminded me of the ceremonial vestments of a Catholic priest at a high mass, layers upon layers of fabric and symbolism. Of course, his were actually glowing. Was I dead?

    "''Tis near enough the truth, We fear." I heard his voice, though his mouth remained closed and smiling. "You lie perilously astride the threshold of death in your old world. You were involved in an accident of dire consequence, and will not recover. We rescued your soul for a second chance, a new destiny as the Hero of a world in peril."

    What the hell?

    This can''t be real.

    Who talks like that?

    "We choose to ignore such an impertinent comment, as a consequence of your condition," his gently smiling face remained calm and placid, though the voice in my head spoke now with a slightly affronted tone. "We are conversing directly in deference to your state, and as the swiftest and kindest means to acclimate you to the situation. We assure you, We are real. This is real." The self-proclaimed god gestured around him with one hand, palm open, then back to me. "You are¡­not quite real yet." He cocked his head, as he peered at me inquisitively.

    I looked at myself, my body ¨C it seemed real. I patted myself on the stomach, cheeks. I was in a robe or gown of some kind? Similar to what the god wore, but far simpler. "What do you mean, ''not real yet''?"

    "To exist in this place, to be a Hero in the next, you need a spark of the Divine. We have been preparing your soul since you arrived. Perhaps We shall test your progress. Please, sit." He gestured for me to sit by leaning forward and tapping the space in front of him. The floor? Having no other frame of reference, I went along and knelt opposite him.

    "Now, first We shall verify the Communion. Envision a view of your current state or status."

    Status. Like a status window in a game?

    Immediately on the thought, a transparent window appeared in the space between us, with symbols, numbers, and color-coded bars.

    "Excellent! The connection has been formed." The god clapped his hands together, an oddly childish mannerism in contrast to the formal and elegant way he had been speaking so far. He scooted around next to me, peering at the screen before us. "Can you read this?"

    "Uh, no," I said, a little discomfited by his imposing presence next to me. This close, I felt like a child next to an adult. I tried to focus on the screen.

    "There. Now what do you see?"

    I peered at the screen, and slowly the symbols became words in my mind:

    Name: Mairead Carrigan

    Race: Human

    Class: Hero

    Level: 1 (+)

    Condition: ???

    Core Attributes

    Body: 30 (x1.25 = 37)

    Spirit: 70 (x1.25 = 87)

    Mind: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Luck: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 37 (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Focus: 62 (+)

    Charm: 62

    Intuition: 50

    Will: 75

    Fate: ??? (+)

    Skills

    Communion of the Soul, Appraisal, Inventory, Divine Translation, Hero''s Journey (minor bonus to experience), Champion of Light (minor bonus to Body), Inner Eye (minor bonus to Spirit), Adept of Ages (minor bonus to Mind), Fortune''s Favor (minor bonus to Luck), Swift Regeneration (minor bonus to Health recovery), Spiritual Harmony (minor bonus to Magic recovery), Still Mind (minor bonus to Focus recovery), Destiny''s Chosen (minor bonus to Fate), Inner Alchemy (convert Health/Magic/Focus)

    The symbols hadn¡¯t changed, but now I could understand them, somehow.

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    "I can read it." I blinked, surprised.

    "Language translation is functioning well, that is good. What you are reading now is the Celestial language, though as an ancillary effect you can now read all languages," he turned toward me and grinned proudly, as if the achievement was his own ¨C as maybe it was, I suppose. "It is the same as how you understand Our words, though We are communicating in Celestial, and how We could initially understand you."

    He turned back to the floating screen before us. "Now, see your attributes ¨C they describe the state of your current form, as known by your soul. As your soul and form grow in your new life, these attributes will reflect that growth." He paused and smiled patronizingly at me, as though at a slow and difficult child. "Be not discouraged by your current state ¨C We are confident that your attributes will rise to that of a stately Hero as you gain knowledge and experience in your new form."

    Okay, that was a little harsh. I may be approaching thirty, but I was pretty fit. Mostly.

    "Your Communion provides other conveniences to facilitate your growth as well ¨C explore as you are able in the coming days. Hmm." He struck an obviously contrived ¡®thinking¡¯ pose, then turned to me again. "Location and Storage are impractical in the Divine realm. And a skill like Appraisal would be ineffective on Our Divine Self. What about your Journal?"

    As I thought about the words, the window in front of me shifted to a log of text. Focusing on the words at the top, I saw:

    Day: ???

    ??:??:?? Me (Hero): Divine Communion accepted.

    ??:??:?? Me (Hero): Awakens.

    ??:??:?? Me (Hero): Skill active: Divine Translation (audible)

    ??:??:?? Iter (God): "Well met, Hero."

    ??:??:?? Iter (God): "You are between worlds, at the moment. You are safe."

    ??:??:?? Iter (God): "We are a God, Iter, and We have summoned you from your world to aid another."

    ??:??:?? Me (Hero): "Hungh?"

    Wow, even in the Journal his pronouns are capitalized. I guess that¡¯s a god for you.

    "It looks like a log of our conversation. And some other notes."

    As I spoke, I glanced at the bottom of the screen, and saw my words being written there in real time.

    "Woah!"

    ??:??:?? Me (Hero): "Woah!"

    "Correct, even though We are not speaking in a vocal language, Our conversation is captured in this Journal." He, too, seemed to watch in satisfaction as his words appeared on the screen before him. "In addition, other important actions and events of consequence will appear in this Journal as well. Make use of it often to confirm your progress."

    "What are the question marks?" I wondered, examining the entries more closely.

    "You are in the Divine Realm at present, as We mentioned. Between worlds. Time flows differently here. But when you arrive in your new world, the local time of each entry will be displayed in the proper order for reference."

    This was really a lot to take in.

    "Fear not, Our Hero. We are here to guide you along your destined path." He turned to me again and produced a new smile as brilliant as the sun. "After all, We are your God, and you are Our Hero! Rejoice!"

    ? ? ?

    As the god said, time didn¡¯t seem to mean much where we were, if it even applied at all. The god seemed very excited and enthusiastic about describing the unfamiliar new systems and abilities, though much of it wasn¡¯t easy to apply in the Divine Realm. Like Magic. Or Skills. It seems an actual body and environment were necessary for them to be used.

    A body. That hit hard. I''m dead, I guess? Or, dying. At least, in my world.

    "Uh¡­God? Can I go back?" I turned my head to look slightly upwards at him sitting next to me. He was larger than me, physically, but he also seemed to have a depth and a weight that was far greater than anything I could imagine. This near to him, it looked like the space in this place was bending around him at the edges. I felt a bit of vertigo as it seemed like I was being pulled in toward him.

    "A God can care about Our weight as well, you know," he said, peevishly. I gulped, but he winked. "A little joke." Then his brow creased into a little ''v'' on his forehead. "Though We are afraid your return is not that simple. Once the transfer is complete, you will be touched by Magic. It is vital to the process that the Hero interacts with and purifies the corrupted Magic of the world and its Demon Lord. Even were We to extract your soul afterwards, We would not return it to your original world, lest we contaminate that place as well. And," he paused, "as We stated before, your body in your original world is dying. Once your quest is complete, you would not have a body to go back to."

    "I can''t just leave¡­" I began. But then I remembered the box in my hands. The papers spread out on the desk in front of me. The impact on the street. I dropped my head. "I guess I already have."

    Truth to tell, I didn''t have a lot to go back to. I''d heard my Mom remarried and retired. My dad passed away in his 50s, shortly after I''d completed college. My parents and I hadn''t spoken for years before he died, anyway. I had one younger brother who was married and living on the east coast. We¡­ weren''t close. Some colleagues from work ¨C well, ex-colleagues. I had a couple previous dates I was still on cordial terms with, but no current significant other. The only one waiting for me at home was Taiga, my black and orange tortoiseshell cat. She''ll be disgruntled at the disruption to her routine, but that was her natural state. She also has auto food and water dispensers, so she''d probably be fine until someone comes around to handle my things. I thought of Kris, my friend since middle school, the only one I''d managed to keep in connection with. Kris would probably be called, as my emergency contact. I was hers, too, even though we rarely saw each other anymore. We had copies of each other''s keys ¨C poor Kris will have to deal with all of that. Sorry, Kris.

    But there was one important thing I needed to learn.

    "God, why do you need a hero?"

    "Call Us Iter, Hero." He beamed toward me, obviously enjoying himself quite a bit.

    "Okay, Iter, then. And call me Mai, I guess. What do you need a hero for?"

    "A just and astute question, Mai," Iter began. "It is simple enough to say that you are required to purify the Demon Lord." He looked down toward me, eyes narrowing and smile fading for the first time since I met him. "Magic is unknown to you in this world. Indeed, it is true that of all the worlds in existence, your world is the one of the few untouched by Magic."

    "Is that why I have 0 magic in my Status screen?" I''d wondered about that.

    "Not exactly. While true that your world lacks Magic, We Gods have crafted the Divine Communion to allow our chosen Heroes to accumulate and manipulate it more easily, among other things." Iter gestured around the space, and continued, "It is simply that there is no Magic here in Divine Realm for you to gain. It is the same for your world."

    "It was not always this way. Magic is not native to this plane of existence, but it spread swiftly among the worlds after it first appeared. Indeed, We, all the Gods, watched it as it spread, in awe of and curious as to its effects and potential. We were therefore unprepared when the first Demon Lord formed." He halted, his features solemn. "That world remains a wasteland of corruption to this day, a testament to the terrible speed and spread of its devastation."

    "Though everything within Our worlds is Ours to control, We Gods are unable to manipulate or affect Magic directly. While mortals tame it to their will, We can touch it not." He paused again, before his voice rose, impassioned. "But We can prepare and protect Heroes to be Our Instruments in the worlds! Heroes who can take in the impure Magic unto themselves, and purify it with the Divine tools We Gods impart!" His eyes blazing, Iter, focused his beaming gaze back on me. "And so, Our Hero, together We ¨C"

    As Iter was reaching the obvious crescendo of his pitch, a heavy, authoritative voice interrupted.

    "This program is no longer necessary." I turned, and saw a giant figure had appeared behind me. Its features were androgynous and immaculate, hairless skin like white marble, eyes bright and staring at a point above and beyond my head, focused far beyond even Iter. "The Demon Seed is gone." Its voice, though as melodious and clear as Iter''s, shook the space as if it had a physical weight.

    "Metam, what ¨C?" Iter began, but the voice continued, undeterred. The unblinking, pupil-less eyes shifted now in my direction, eyes that looked through me in impassive judgment.

    "Your services are no longer needed, Hero."

 Chapter 2: Homecoming, Part 1

    I blinked. I felt no sense of time having passed, but I was obviously somewhere else. I was prone, but my body felt oddly afloat, washing in a flushed heat, and with a sense of dulled pain just at the boundary of my perception.

    In the dim light I could see thin curtains, and small lights, blue, green and red. For a moment I thought I was restrained, but what I thought at first were cords were tubes connected to an IV taped to my wrist, and to some kind of machine on a moveable stand sitting next to me. Cables emerged from under the covers near my chest, around to my side, and behind me. My right arm was immobilized in some kind of brace or splint, with a sling across my body. I was in a hospital bed.

    I tried to shift myself upright, but quickly failed. My entire right side ached immensely, a hundred different points of throbbing pain that forced a gasp from my lungs. I laid back, breathing heavy, even the movement of my chest seeming to come with a new round of stinging and agony. I forced my breaths shallower, trying to regroup as the pain receded.

    I felt none of this while I was with the god. If that was real, and it felt as real as anything, I must not have been in my body. He had said I was in an accident. That I wouldn¡¯t recover. My heart started beating rapidly again, my eyes searching frantically around for some proof of health or sign of impending death.

    It was the rapid searching that made me see it. One part of my vision was continuing to track with my eyes, a constant presence in the periphery of my vision, like a burned-in image on an LCD screen. And similar to an eyelash or smudge on your glasses, it stayed in the same relative spot no matter where I looked. It was a short bar of light, blinking red. Another, longer green bar was unblinking beneath it. Like the heads up display of a game.

    "Status," I said, though I realized afterward I didn¡¯t need to say it aloud. I was shocked by the dry soreness in my throat, and the hoarse whisper in place of my voice. But even more stunning was the sight of a bright screen panel appearing in the air in front of my face, parallel to my prone body in bed. The display hovered in the air, glowing, but failing to illuminate the room around it:

    Name: Mairead Carrigan

    Race: Human

    Class: Hero

    Level: 1 (+)

    Condition: Intoxicated

    Core Attributes

    Body: 30 (x1.25 = 37)

    Spirit: 70 (x1.25 = 87)

    Mind: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Luck: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 3 [max 37] (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Focus: 62 (+)

    Charm: 62

    Intuition: 50

    Will: 75

    Fate: ??? (+)

    Skills

    Communion of the Soul, Appraisal, Inventory, Divine Translation, Hero''s Journey (minor bonus to experience), Champion of Light (minor bonus to Body), Inner Eye (minor bonus to Spirit), Adept of Ages (minor bonus to Mind), Fortune''s Favor (minor bonus to Luck), Swift Regeneration (minor bonus to Health recovery), Spiritual Harmony (minor bonus to Magic recovery), Still Mind (minor bonus to Focus recovery), Destiny''s Chosen (minor bonus to Fate), Inner Alchemy (convert Health/Magic/Focus)

    The information was a repeat of what I saw before with the god, from what I could tell, except for Condition now had a value of "Intoxicated", and Health, which was now "3 [max 37]", with the ¡®3¡¯ in red. So I was hurt. I chuckled wryly, then immediately regretted it as the pain in my chest and side flared up again. Yeah, I guess I¡¯m hurt. I stared up, unfocused, as I tried to reconcile the unreality of this screen with the all too real evidence of my current situation. Maybe I was hallucinating? I probably have a lot of pain meds floating through my system. I looked back at the screen. Ah, yeah, "Intoxicated". Wasn¡¯t doing a great job of it though, I winced as I repositioned my back.

    Okay, figure it out, then figure out what to do.

    While lying there I noticed something I hadn¡¯t thought about while I was in the gods'' space ¨C my vision was blurry. Even in the dark, I could tell everything had a kind of hazy fuzziness around it. That means I wasn¡¯t wearing my contacts, like I usually do. I suppose the doctors or nurses removed them or something while I was unconscious? Except ¨C the screen in front of me was as clear as day. I considered it for a moment, thoughts swimming upstream. I must not be using my eyes to see it, then. I closed my eyes. The screen persisted. Okay, that was weird. Leaving aside the question of whether my contacts were in place during my ¡®vision¡¯, or if that was proof I was somehow hallucinating, or if souls don¡¯t need contacts, I considered what to do.

    Journal. Eyes still closed. The screen before me shifted, filling up with rows of words. I checked the most recent few lines:

    Day: Jan 13

    03:27:14 Me (Hero): Skill active: Swift Regeneration.

    03:27:14 Me (Hero): Low Health: Health at < 5%.

    03:27:14 Me (Hero): Awakens.

    03:29:47 Me (Hero): "Status."

    03:29:47 Me (Hero): Status active.

    03:30:14 Me (Hero): Low Health: Health at 10%.

    03:32:22 Me (Hero): Journal active.

    So it¡¯s 3:30am on Jan 13. It was Thursday when I went into the office and¡­everything happened. So that was¡­Jan 12th? 11th? I couldn¡¯t remember. It seems I¡¯d been here maybe a day? I looked higher in the entries, but the last one before the timestamps started working was that god, Metam, firing me a second time. Dick.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I thought about scrolling up, and the prior few entries came into view, with Iter and me, all the way up to the very beginning when the "Divine Communion" or whatever was accepted. Nothing before that, and nothing in between. So was the log not working when I was unconscious, or did no time pass between the gods¡¯ space and now? No way to tell. It certainly didn¡¯t tell me anything about the accident or before Iter showed up.

    I focused again at the bottom. "Swift Regeneration", hunh? I switched back to status, and saw that my Health was now "8 [max 37]". That¡¯s good, it¡¯s going up. I did feel like the pain had lessened a bit? A let out a sigh of relief I wasn¡¯t aware I was holding in. It¡¯s going up, I¡¯m getting better. I¡¯m not going to die.

    Actually, that¡¯s kinda fast, right? Up five points from earlier, or ten percent from earlier, if the Journal math was to be believed. And if the Journal has the time right, too, that¡¯s what, one point a minute? I¡¯ll be at full health in a half hour. I looked at my arm, sling pressed firmly against my body. Someone¡¯s going to be surprised when they come by to check on me later.

    ? ? ?

    I spent some time going back and forth between Status and Journal, watching the numbers rise and the message log grow. At somewhere around 30 minutes, my Condition changed from "Intoxicated" to "Normal". I¡¯m not sure if that was because the meds wore off naturally, or if one of my skills had something to do with it, but I did feel more awake and alert. Magic never changed from 0, though. I guess there really was no magic in this world. And that was additional evidence I was back in my own world and not some other one.

    My health was now at "35 [max 37]", and I expected it to be completely full in a couple minutes. The pain had almost entirely receded, and now all I felt was an itching sensation all down my right side, like dry skin peeling. All my appendages and digits seemed to work fine. I still had the IV needle in my wrist and the sling and brace on my right arm, but I had a feeling they weren¡¯t so necessary anymore.

    With my recovery, came more questions. First, the gods ¨C that had to be real, right? Either that, or I¡¯m still out cold somewhere and dreaming about my recovery. But assuming I''m fully conscious, this Status/Communion thing was there. A skill had activated, and healed me. So if that¡¯s real, then the gods are, too. Other worlds. Magic. Heroes.

    I was never really religious. Went to church when I was younger, but never really could get into the whole faith and belief thing. If God exists, why does He care whether I believe in Him or not? I figured I¡¯d keep an open mind to the whole thing, and either God cared about belief, in which case that¡¯s kind of petty, or He didn¡¯t, in which case it didn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m sure my Mom would be praying extra hard for me if she heard me say that.

    But these self-described gods didn¡¯t seem to care about belief. Only one of them seemed to care about me at all. And based on the way things ended, I probably won¡¯t be hearing from them anymore. So gods or not, they left me with some goodbye gifts.

    I tried for a while to remember some other abilities Iter talked about, but couldn¡¯t recall anything beyond the whole Demon Lord shtick. Then I cursed my stupidity and called up the Journal. I scrolled up past the "Low health" messages, back to my conversations with Iter. Beyond Status, Journal, and Translation (which was apparently how I was reading the screen), he mentioned Location, Storage, and Appraisal. That last one seemed to be a skill, as it was listed there. I also saw "Inventory", which was maybe the same thing as Storage?

    Inventory, I thought. The window changed, and I saw:

    Equipped:

    Hospital gown [Body] (capacity: 0)

    Wrist brace [Right hand]

    Sling [Right arm]

    Hospital wrist band [Left arm]

    Along with the text, I saw a stylized graphic representation of a figure (presumably me) wearing a simple gown, with something covering their left and right arms and right hand. I hadn¡¯t noticed the hospital wrist band since I was focused on the IV, but I looked and there it was.

    Well, that¡¯s kinda lame. I was imagining games and fantasy stories where the protagonist had cheats like an unlimited storage capacity to put anything they wanted inside. Some even froze time for things in the storage space, so things would remain unspoiled for as long as they stayed in there, or stayed hot and fresh, or something amazing like that. It didn¡¯t even consider the IV part of my inventory, even though the needle was still in my hand. Maybe I could try it out some more later, when I had some clothes or a backpack.

    Feeling let down, I tried the next one. Appraisal.

    Nothing.

    Oh, maybe I needed to focus on something to appraise it. I thought about the bed. Appraisal.

    Rom-Hill P8000 Pulmonary ICU bed

    Okay, that was interesting. I focused on the TV mounted against the far wall.

    GL 28 inch LED Smart TV

    Hmm, not really more informative, but accurate I suppose? How about the IV bag?

    Riverside IV bag, 0.9% Normal Saline, Dilaudid, and sterile water.

    I guess if I want to know the brand name and model of something, Appraisal will show me? Also, Dilaudid? I''d had that before when I had my kidney stone. That''s a strong opioid narcotic. So now I''ve confirmed why Status showed Intoxicated earlier. I must¡¯ve been hurt pretty bad. I guess I knew that already, but this reinforced how serious it had been. And that Swift Regeneration must be stopping me from getting re-intoxicated, if Dilaudid is still in the bag. Interesting.

    I looked around and learned the brand names and models of a few more things in the room before getting bored. I turned my attention to the next skill: Location.

    The image in the screen before me shifted to a simple wireframe diagram, with a number of light blue dots roaming around, with one golden arrow in the center. A top-down map. This was looking better. I could see the room I was in, with simple representations of beds, furniture, curtains, and a doorway. In the hall just outside my room, a pair of blue dots were passing by. At the same time I heard muffled voices and a couple of shadows pass by in front of the soft light filtering in from the other side of the curtain. So this was showing me not only my location, but the locations of others in real time. I watched the blue dots to see if I could learn anymore. I found I could zoom in and out pretty far, but at a certain distance all the blue dots and lines started to blur together and became hard to tell apart. I zoomed in really close, and could see more details of the items and equipment in my room, but nothing else. If I thought about it, I could even move the center around, but it was easy to get lost, and it became hard to tell where on the map I was. Fortunately, it was easy to re-center by thinking about it.

    Hmm. My phone app was more informative at larger distances, but the real time tracking of individuals and interiors were a step up. I suppose if I were a thief or spy, this would come in pretty handy. Well, a career change was in my future anyway, I suppose, but I couldn¡¯t really see myself as some kind of master thief or secret agent. I could too easily see the consequences to other people of that kind of activity. I¡¯d be an awful thief.

    Which brought my mind back to earlier yesterday, both getting fired, as well as the altercation with that contractor. I wasn¡¯t a thief. So why did they act like I was? I wish one of these new semi-useless abilities I had now could help me figure it out. I looked at the Status screen once more, and then closed it all with a thought and settled back down in my bed. The sun was starting to lighten the room through the exterior windows, though it still seemed to be a few hours from rising. I gazed up vacantly at the ceiling tiles.

    "Hero, hunh?"

 Chapter 3: Homecoming, Part 2

    The nurse found me awake, and was bright and chipper as she went through the room, drawing back curtains, making idle chatter, doing her rounds. I tried Appraisal on her, and saw this:

    Name: Christina Vel¨¢zquez

    Race: Human

    Class: Registered Nurse

    Level: 1

    I couldn¡¯t tell if she was surprised to see me awake or by my healthy condition, or both. I opened and closed my Status while she was in the room, but she didn¡¯t seem to notice. About 10-15 minutes later (I resisted the impulse to track it with my Journal), another nurse (Name: Jenna Johnson, Level: 1) rolled a cart in, and that¡¯s when things started getting exciting.

    After replacing my IV bag and checking my vitals, her face went from professional gentleness, to surprise, to genuine smiles, then furrowed brows. She checked my chart and my wrist band, and asked to confirm my name and birthday, to be sure.

    Not long after, a doctor came in (Name: Ana Evertts, Class: General Surgeon, Level: 1), and went through the same process and cycled through the same facial expressions as the nurse, followed by checking my right arm and hand with deep concentration. She left saying even less than the nurse had.

    I get it. I can¡¯t really explain it, either. I played dumb the whole time, as they eventually wheeled me out to x-ray, and back again. Then to an MRI and back again. Then to a new room outside of the ICU. They also asked me to pee in a specimen cup, bend my arm, wrist, and leg a few different ways, and then checked my pupils and breathing a few more times. The first doctor came back at one point and wanted to lift my gown to "take a look at how your stitches were doing." It was a bit awkward when they couldn¡¯t find them. Interestingly, everyone was considered Level: 1 by Appraisal, even those with senior-looking Classes/titles. I wonder if Level was applicable in this world? I didn¡¯t feel so bad about my own level now.

    I did get a chance to ask what happened and why I was here, to confirm I¡¯d been in an auto accident of some kind Thursday morning. I¡¯d been in surgery, then unconscious in the ICU for multiple days. Every single person mentioned how happy they were that I''d recovered. I must have been touch-and-go there for a while. While in the toilet filling my specimen cup, I¡¯d had the opportunity to pull away sections of my gown and take a look at my body. No signs of stitches, scars, or bruising, except around the IV in my wrist. Maybe because the needle was still there?

    I gathered that my lack of damage was causing some issues, but what could anyone do? Not much you can test for when someone heals too well or too fast. I overheard (and confirmed in my Journal) a couple of nurses or interns wondering in hushed tones if patients had been switched somehow, which I expect would be really problematic. The alternative was that the wrong notes were put in my chart, which I gathered was also pretty serious. I heard the word ¡®miracle¡¯ mentioned in even quieter tones, and had to stifle a sudden bout of the giggles. It was harder to stop than I expected. The doctors and nurses tried to keep a straight face in front of me, but I could tell they were struggling. Playing clueless seemed the only appropriate course of action, and I tried to play up feeling tired or sore as much as possible so they could feel better about it.

    Finally, a full day of tests and exams later, a different doctor (Name: Jacob Watts, Class: General Physician, Level: 1) came by and said that I was healing so well (understatement) that they¡¯d decided to discharge me. While they got the paperwork ready, they asked me if I was feeling up to talk with a police officer about my accident. I was a bit nervous, but saw no reason to decline ¨C I didn¡¯t recall much.

    It took about 45 minutes, but an officer in uniform came in (Name: Jason Bornaghi, Class: Police Officer, Level: 1), and wrote down my story about being laid off, accosted by a contractor, and then falling into the street. I figured telling the truth about the incident was best, as multiple people probably saw it happen. I left off the part about why I was let go, as well as the bit about the gods (obviously). The officer asked what the other person was angry about, and I replied truthfully that I didn¡¯t know. He wrote it all down, and thanked me for my time. He asked if I wanted to pursue any charges, and I paused before saying, no, emotions were high that day, and I believed it was dumb luck, an accident and not intentional. I asked if anyone else was hurt, and he said the delivery truck driver was treated at the scene, but he was okay. No one else had been involved. The officer wished me a speedy recovery (already happened, but thanks for the sentiment), and left.

    A short time later my IV was removed, and I was given a plastic bag with my belongings. The nurse apologized, telling me that the clothes I¡¯d been wearing had to be cut apart. They would be back with something I could wear until I made it home. I opened the bag despondently, then gasped as I saw not only the mangled state of my apparel, but also the huge blood stains all across them. I guess I¡¯d be confused, too, if someone who arrived in this state was leaving without a scratch. I gingerly poked through the pockets, then shook the bag with increasing concern, and finally dumped everything out on the floor. My wallet, phone, and keys were missing.

    ? ? ?

    I was sitting in a wheelchair, wearing scrubs and holding the plastic bag containing the remains of my clothes and shoes, when I saw Kris enter the Hospital front doors. With her sort of curly orange hair, ample freckles, and sloping shoulders, Kris gave off a much younger impression than you''d expect. She maneuvered her way through the main doors, pausing to let a elderly couple by, moving aside to let a family past, then dodging an orderly with an empty wheelchair heading outside. It seemed like some kind of waltz just to make it through the vestibule and into the lobby.

    I¡¯d idly been watching Location to see if I could tell when Kris arrived, but it wasn¡¯t that helpful. Of course. I shouldn¡¯t complain, Swift Regeneration likely saved my life, otherwise I¡¯d still be in my hospital bed. Or maybe the morgue. But I was feeling down about losing my stuff on top of my situation, and it seemed that everything that I¡¯d received from the god, with the exception of Swift Regeneration, was about as immediately useful as a bible at a Buddhist temple.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Kris was here because 1) she had a spare key to my apartment, and 2) I called her from the hospital phone and she answered, and 3) she¡¯s an awesome person and an amazing friend. I felt bad about pulling her away from work, as I know she spent long hours as a controller for a large clothing company. I thought about how to make it up to her. Then I remembered I was unemployed, and grimaced. I suppose I¡¯d be in her debt for a bit.

    "Mai!" Kris raised her hand and jogged over to where I sat with an orderly, only stopping once to allow a couple of chatting nurses pass. "How are you feeling? Are you still in a lot of pain?" Her misplaced sympathy made me sigh.

    "No, I''m doing fine. Just thinking about the state of my clothes." I raised the plastic bag from my lap. "Thanks for coming to get me."

    "Of course I''d come. Sorry it took so long, couldn''t get away immediately." Kris gave some directions to the orderly to her car as we spoke, and we made our way out to the curb.

    The wind was penetratingly cold outside, going right through the thin material of the scrubs I wore. Kris'' recognizable 30 year old white Toyota Camry was parked in the loading zone next to the curb, hazards flashing. Kris opened the passenger door and the orderly helped me gingerly out of the chair and into the car. I felt a little sheepish for the assistance, as I felt perfectly fine, but I was keeping up the frail act for now. I thanked the orderly for their help, and buckled in while Kris went around to the driver''s seat.

    "So glad you''re okay!" Kris said as we pulled out into the street in front of the hospital. "Are you sure you''re not in any pain or anything? Should I take a back road in case we need to stop?" She eyed me sidelong as she drove.

    "No, I''m really fine. The medication must be working, so I''m not feeling any pain at all," I half lied. "Wish I could see better, but that''s about it for my complaints. Thanks again. Sorry I pulled you out of work."

    "Saved me from another interminable planning meeting, so I should be thanking you for getting in an accident," she started to chuckle, before taking a breath, "except that would be horrible, sorry."

    I laughed, "Really, I''m fine. Don''t worry." Kris'' appalled awkwardness struck me as funny somehow. Maybe it was the familiarity of it, the kindness mixed with tactless brutality, followed by realization and regret was just so Kris. It was a life preserver of normalcy in a sea of absurdity. I stifled my laughter as I saw Kris''s face, a mix of embarrassment, indignation, and worry.

    "Hey, now, it wasn''t that awful, was it?" she pouted while navigating through surface streets toward the freeway.

    "Sorry, sorry. I''m glad you''re here."

    A pause, while Kris turned into the freeway on ramp and merged into traffic. I watched the blurry traffic go by as I sat silently in the passenger seat. I was beginning to get a light headache from trying to focus without my contacts, but I should be fine until I get back home and get a new pair.

    "What happened, anyway? You said you were in an accident?"

    I took in a deep breath, and gave Kris the same outline I gave the police. Her eyes were wide as she drove, listening mostly in silence.

    "Geez, Mai, what the heck."

    "I know, right?" I hesitated, uncertain how to raise the next topic.

    "Um, I don''t know anything at my company right now, things are kinda tight¡­ but I''ll keep my ears open. If you need me to reach out to any of my contacts, let me know."

    "That''s appreciated, Kris. That could really help, I''ll take you up on it."

    "Hey, happy to," she grinned at me to reinforce the offer.

    I licked my lips. "There''s more." I looked down and laughed a little nervously. "Remember I said I was laid off? That''s... not the whole story." I pressed on. "The truth is they fired me. For faking invoices and stealing from the company."

    "What the fuck!" Kris didn''t swear a lot. I knew it was because she worried about doing it at an inappropriate moment. Which, ironically, made her come off as stiff and stilted even more. Kris was a little awkward when it came to people. But I guess she nailed it this time.

    "I didn''t do it!" I looked over at her shocked face. That sounded trite even to my ears. "But they showed me the invoices. And that vendor seemed to think I was¡­" I trailed off. My heartbeat thumped in my ears.

    Kris was quiet for a bit. She rubbed her face, and stared at the road. I struggled to think of more to add, but I couldn''t think of anything ¨C I was trapped in that moment all over again. With all that happened, the accident, the gods, the recovery in the hospital due to these new skills, all of it seemed like a hallucination or dream. But the look on Prema''s face, the HR rep, Ben¡­ those memories suddenly tangled me up, pulled me down like a nightmare I couldn''t break free of. My throat felt thick and swollen, it was hard to breathe. I needed to say something, but I couldn''t think of the words, couldn''t get them out of my throat, couldn''t get free.

    Kris finally broke the silence. "I know you, Mai." Her voice was calm, even gentle. "You''re too scrupulous to do something that stupid." She grinned as she looked over at me. "Remember when you painted that garage?" When we were in college, we took painting jobs over the summer. There was a gig to paint a house, and we came to find out there was an unattached garage on the lot. Our boss said to skip it, since we had only quoted for the house, but the language of the agreement said "property" not "building". I stayed and painted the garage, told the boss to take the paint out of my pay. I was young, stupid, and stubborn.

    All the tension and fear that threatened to overwhelm me seconds before, popped like a soap bubble. "Yeah, well," I weakly tried to wave the atmosphere away, as if I could physically disperse the cloud around me. "Joke was on me, the customer demolished the garage later that month." I laughed ruefully at the recollection, but my hand was trembling in relief.

    "Ha ha! Yeah." Kris looked at me, then back to the road. "But you don''t cut corners. You do the job, the way you think is right." She smiled crookedly as she shook her head slowly. "I''m not sure what kind of mess you got yourself involved in, but you''re no thief."

    I blinked. Then I felt my eyes sting, and had to turn my face to the window.

    Kris kept her face toward the road. I couldn''t see her, but I heard the soft warmth in her tone. "Let''s get you home. We''ll figure the rest out later."

    ? ? ?

    You could say I lived both close and far from San Francisco, on the island of Alameda on the eastern side of the bay. It wasn''t so far geographically, or by ferry during my commute, but driving required crossing a couple bridges, so it took some time. I was glad I didn''t have to worry about picking up my car from the office.

    Kris ''helped'' me climb the stairs of the old Victorian home where my apartment was. I decided to keep up the infirm act a little longer, since I wasn''t quite ready to explain the whole hero thing. I was happy and relieved enough that Kris believed me about not being a criminal. No need to have her start doubting my sanity instead.

    "Do you have any food in the house?" Kris rooted around in the pockets of her puffy winter coat for the key, then inserted it into the lock. "Do you need me to pick up something for you?"

    "I''ll be¡­" fine, I was about to say, when a melodious voice rang out from the interior hallway of my apartment.

    "Well met, again, Our Hero!" The god beamed at me, his silver hair shining in a halo of light.

 Chapter 4: God, Revisited

    I stood in shock at the doorstep of my apartment, unable to reconcile what I was seeing within the familiar and mundane hallway of my home. Lengthy, silvery hair sparkled in the light of the ceiling fixture above him. Though his appearance and attire were the same flowing white robes with textured mystic patterns and silvery trim as before, overall it was somehow less. The god was still tall, though now normally so ¨C he was roughly the same height as Kris, who''s moderately tall for her gender. I still had to look up at him, but my neck didn''t bother me when I did. His face emanated the same ethereal beauty and glow that would make a K-Pop idol jealous, but his skin no longer shined with light from within. His eyes were a bright gold color, though no longer glowing. But despite these changes, this ''lessening'', it was quite clearly the god, Iter, standing in my apartment, arms spread as in benediction.

    "Uh, hello?" a timid voice spoke next to me. Kris was staring at Iter, with the same amount of shock, but absolutely no recognition. "Are you a friend of Mai''s?" She turned to me for confirmation.

    "Aaah!" I started, "Iter, what are you doing here?!" I ushered Kris inside, then stepped across the threshold and closed the door to the street. I ignored Kris''s questions for the moment to concentrate on the more pressing issue. But Iter was faster.

    "This is your friend, Kris Dougherty." he stated, while glancing Kris up and down, then redirecting his smiling gaze to me. "A boon companion for a Hero. We shall await with hope the produce of this bond." At least he was speaking out loud this time. But the words he was saying were the problem.

    Surprisingly, Kris smiled and nodded back. "Good to meet you. Mai didn''t tell me that you would be here." She looked toward me expectantly, "or anything about you." Her eyes were wide and tinged with confusion, and something like¡­ amazement?

    "Ah, right. Uhm, Kris, this is Iter," I gestured, "Iter, this is Kris." I paused. "But I guess you already knew that."

    Kris looked at me in confusion. "Does he speak English? And what language is that?"

    "What?" I wasn''t sure I heard her correctly. My mind tried to juggle too many things, and simply froze.

    "Can I talk to him in English, or will you need to translate everything?" She looked back at Iter with a calm smile, but her eyes shifted back to me for confirmation.

    "We can understand her, but without Our Communion, she will have no means to understand Our Celestial tongue." Iter continued to smile beatifically at us both, with the serene demeanor of a god.

    "Uh, he can understand you." Wait, does this mean she couldn''t follow what Iter said? What about what I said? I had an idea and brought my journal up to check, but Kris kept speaking, unawares.

    "Hello, Iter," She made an abortive attempt to shake hands, thought better about it, did a funny kind of half-bow from the neck. "Good to meet you." Iter smiled beatifically back. Kris looked over at me with a too wide grin and desperation screaming from her eyes.

    I closed the journal without learning anything, and laughed awkwardly. "Ah, heh, this is going to take a bit to explain. Can we sit down?" I started moving from the hallway to the front room to take a seat on the brown fabric sofa.

    Kris followed, ducking past Iter, as he watched us both serenely. He then turned and followed us inside.

    "Mee-ya-ow," Came a plaintive cry from the front room. Taiga was staring up at the three of us, wondering why no one was paying attention to her. A miniature black and orange tortoiseshell, I named her for my favorite palmtop tiger tsundere. She went self-importantly past the god and Kris to bump her head into my shin in feline demand.

    "You asked why We are here, but is the answer not obvious? You are Our Hero. Where else should We be?" Iter looked down at the cat, seemingly in vexation. Taiga jumped up on the arm of the sofa, arrogantly demanding head scratching, ignoring Iter altogether. She was usually shy when there were new people in the house, but she was being rather competitive tonight. Was she that hungry for attention since my absence?

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "I thought that wasn''t necessary anymore," I hissed in a whisper to Iter that felt too loud to my ears. I automatically scratched Taiga''s fluffy flecked cheek and orange chin in response to an outstretched paw pressed against my shoulder. "But forget about that for now." I turned to look at Kris, who seated herself in a reclaimed leather and wood lounge chair, while Iter glided smoothly over to the sofa and seated himself next to me. Right next to me. I mean, there was another whole cushion and all, but he was so close our shoulders and thighs were touching. I looked over to see Kris, staring in open-eyed bewilderment at the two of us, mouth firmly shut. It''s so not what you''re thinking, I thought. I stumbled trying to get my thoughts together, but Kris was first to recover.

    "So, uh, what language is that, Mai ¨C and when did you learn it?" Her face was fixed in an intense stare.

    Flustered, I glanced over at the god, but he was simply looking back at me and beaming unhelpfully.

    "Well, it hasn''t been that long, I guess," I answered truthfully. "To be honest, it was something I just sort of picked up while talking with Iter." Yeah, he''s a god from some Divine Realm, and he stuck a translator in my head. What does Celestial even sound like, anyway? Inspiration struck. "I''m curious, what language does it sound like to you? His accent is not really anything I''d heard before, either." Was I sweating? I was sweating, wasn''t I.

    "You''re right, it is hard to place. It does seem European, maybe a Romance language? There''s a definite rhythm or musicality to it when you both speak. Like a French poem." Her stare finally relaxed as she pondered.

    Wait, what?

    "It''s not French or Italian, though, I''d usually recognize some of the loan words from the Romance languages. Is it Germanic?" Kris was leaning forward as she spoke, her eyes alight at the mystery.

    I felt like I was seeing a whole new side of my friend that I''d never seen before. French poems? I shook my head, both to clear my thoughts and in answer to her question. Her response had twigged my memory. Taiga, impatient at being ignored, walked across my legs, looked accusingly at Iter, then turned back around and settled across my lap, her black tail in my face. I stroked her back and tried to shift her tail away, to no avail.

    "Close. He''s Swiss." I felt safe with that choice, as they spoke all of the above, plus Swiss-German. Thank goodness for those localization projects with our European partners! I said an inward apology to all Swiss speakers. "I think he''s from a more far-out region, with an older dialect, so it''s hard to tell." The lies just kept falling out of my mouth.

    "Wow, you picked that up just talking with Iter?" I winced at the new respect forming in Kris''s eyes. Please stop looking at your horrible, lying friend like that.

    "Well, I wouldn''t say I was fluent. I''m not sure anyone else would understand me. Heh, heh." Seriously, please stop.

    "With Our Divine Translation, you are completely fluent in all languages, Mai."

    "Whaa!?" I goggled at Iter at this news. Taiga gripped her claws into my thighs in displeasure. It hurt like hell through the thin material of the scrub pants, and I swiftly tried to disengage them from my skin.

    "What happened?" Kris asked worriedly, looking back and forth between us.

    "Yeah. Yes. Shit, Taiga stop digging in. Um, Iter was just¡­telling me my accent sounded more German than Swiss. I guess I need more practice." I gave a weak-sounding laugh. "But yeah, we met after work, and have been meeting up now and then so I can learn." It sounded thin to my ears, but with Iter sitting in silent approval, maybe it would pass? I pet Taiga gently to calm both her and my nerves.

    Kris had a strained smile on her face, which softened. I could tell she was coming to the wrong conclusion, but there wasn''t anything I could do about it without coming completely clean and sounding delusional. I hated lying to my friend, especially so soon after she came to my aid. But I hated making her worry even more. If Iter''s presence made her feel better, that was good enough. For now.

    "I''m glad you have someone to take care of you, at least. Apart from Taiga, of course." Kris smiled down and gave a few cheek scritches to the cat perched on my lap. Taiga slow-blinked, and turned her face away. I felt but could not hear her purring in satisfaction. Kris glanced quickly at Iter questioningly before continuing. "Does he know about¡­" she looked me up and down, and I could tell she meant both my physical and professional conditions.

    "Ah, yes, I talked with him earlier. Sorry I didn''t mention it."

    "You''ve had a lot on your mind. Well," Kris said, putting her hands on her thighs and levering herself up. I followed suit, dumping Taiga unceremoniously to the ground as I did so. Affronted, she leaped onto the now vacant couch as Iter stood as well. "Since you seem to be in good hands, I''d better hit the road. It''s a long trip back to the city."

    "I can''t thank you enough, Kris." I reached out to lightly pat her shoulder in appreciation, and she pulled me into a gentle hug. Kris wasn''t usually the hugging type. I stiffened up in surprise. Kris noticed, and pulled back apologetically.

    "Sorry, hope that didn''t hurt too much." She awkwardly put a hand behind her neck, looking down at the floor. "Get some rest, take care of yourself." She looked up at Iter. "A pleasure meeting you, Iter. Please, stay with my friend as long as you can. She''s had it rough, and she''s bad at asking for help."

    "Of course. She is Our Hero. We will not willingly leave her side." he responded regally.

    "He says he will," I translated. "Be safe on the roads. And, uh, thank you, Kris ¨C for everything. I''ll give you a call soon."

 Chapter 5: Sacred Severability

    "Ms. Dougherty is a true friend." Iter stated, as soon as the front door closed once more. I heard Kris''s steps fade going down the stairs. I closed my eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. Then I turned to face the god.

    "She''s the best, better than I deserve. But is that really the most important topic right now?" My voice rose in tone unintentionally, so I brought it under control and asked in a firm but even voice. "What are you doing here, Iter?"

    "You are angry," he cocked his head at me, the first expression of confusion or uncertainty I''d seen on his face. It was a little unsettling, but I pushed forward calmly.

    "I''m not angry. I''m confused. I thought the Hero was no longer required," my words sounded more bitter than I''d intended, as the other god''s words echoed unpleasantly in my memory.

    "Ah, it is so difficult to understand in this form. Speaking words and determining intent from visual expression is a new experience for Us." He peered at my face intently, making me uncomfortable. "We shall endeavor to master it." Iter seemed to relax again, his smile re-forming. It was kind of irritating.

    "So. The Hero. No longer required, right?" I spoke slowly, enunciating carefully. "So why. Are. You. Here?"

    He looked at me thoughtfully, crossing his arms loosely. "To become the Hero, We bestowed upon you Our holy Communion. A portion of Our Divine power." He stated each point evenly, watching my face with care.

    "Yes, I still have it. The Status and translation and all that," I confirmed, wondering where he was heading.

    "Correct," he replied. "And Metan was also correct that with the Demon Seed gone, a Hero is no longer required. However," he continued, "the fact remains that a Hero was already created." He extended one hand toward me. "And as the progenitor of this Hero, We must support you." He placed his hand now on his chest. "And We determined that the best support We could offer was to return you to your original world." Then he added quietly, "And, of course, without the power of the Hero, you would most certainly be dead."

    I opened my mouth, then closed it. Yeah, I woke up in the hospital in a bad way. I recovered because of Swift Regeneration. If I didn''t have it, if he hadn''t given it to me, if I''d been sent back without it¡­ It felt like a bucket of cold water on my head, cooling away any remnants of annoyance or persecution I''d been feeling. "Thank you." I said softly. I took a breath before continuing, looking away to the side, "So, do I need to give it back now, or cancel it somehow?"

    Iter smiled kindly in return, and shook his head slightly. "It cannot be removed or returned until your body''s death and your soul is taken up, We fear. As intended by the ritual, Our power has merged with your soul and cannot be sundered. And," he added with a wry look, "as We went to the effort to send you back alive, it would displease Us greatly to see that effort wasted now."

    He straightened, reassuming his divine bearing and majesty. "No, We are here because We are meant to be here," he proclaimed. "You are our Hero, you are a part of Us now. And We are your God, here to support you until the end of your days."

    ? ? ?

    "So what do gods eat, anyway?" I''d changed out of the hospital scrubs and into more comfortable sweatpants, and a loose and favored long-sleeved shirt with a D20 design. I''d also recovered a spare pair of glasses from the bathroom so I could finally see better. Iter was waiting right outside my bedroom door. I ushered him out of the hallway and into the kitchen. Taiga had followed suit, and was currently staring us down from the hallway entrance. It was an older kitchen, like many of the Victorians in the area, with a deep, enamel sink, white half-tiled walls, painted metal counter cabinets, and built-in cupboards. The floor had a hexagonal flower mosaic tile, though a number of the small tiles were worn or missing with age. There was a newish gas stove, as well as a white refrigerator on the opposite side of the room, both of which looked out of time with the rest of the fixtures. I''d found a formica and chrome table with matching chairs with vinyl seats back when I first moved in. I''d thought they matched pretty well when I first found them, but they turned out to be uncomfortable in practice, and one of the chair seats was already peeling. I seldom actually ate here. In fact, I had to move some papers and old mail from the table to make space.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    The god was looking at the chairs with interest, then sat in one gingerly. "We do not eat," he said simply.

    "Oh. Hm." I considered for a moment, as I looked through the refrigerator shelves and drawers, taking stock. "Is that by choice, or could you eat something if you wanted to?"

    Now it was his turn to ponder, before responding, "It has never been necessary. But this form seems to have all the necessary organs and orifices. We could eat, if desired."

    "Ew," I muttered under my breath. Then louder, "Well, I''m going to make some fried rice, do you want any?" I''d discovered I was starving, once I''d been able to slow down. The last meal I''d eaten was a pitiful lunch at the hospital, which was likely appropriately balanced for a patient recovering from the ICU, but it was pretty disappointing in more ways than one. On a more typical night, I''d likely get takeout or delivery. But I felt like staying close to home tonight, and hungry enough that I didn''t want to wait. I was no great cook, but I could survive.

    "We will attempt the experience, if you are inclined," he responded regally.

    So I pulled out from the fridge some leftover steamed rice, the last four eggs, some green onions, soy sauce, and some roast chicken I''d picked up at the grocery for quick meals like this. Taiga appeared at my feet as if by magic, staring up at the counter, and lifting a paw in a pathetic display.

    "Mee-yaoow," she demanded.

    "You''ll have to wait, hime-sama" I replied. The paw dropped, but her bi-color face and orange eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the counter from below.

    I chopped up the onions and broke up the rice while the oil in the pan was heating. Then I scrambled the eggs, and stirred in the rice. I added bits of the pulled apart chicken and the soy sauce next, and when it was practically done, added the chopped green onions. If some of the chicken landed on the floor in front of Taiga instead of the pan, well, that was only to be expected. I tried to ignore the god''s gaze as he watched from his seat, hands resting gracefully on his lap.

    Once done, I moved the pan off the burner, and portioned the fried rice out into two bowls. Taiga knew from experience that snack time was over, so she darted off to another part of the house. I considered briefly, then took out two spoons as the easiest utensils to use. I put one bowl before the god, and one in front of the seat across from him. I set down the spoons on either side of each bowl. Iter watched this all, making no move to start.

    "Would you like to try drinking something, too?" I grabbed two cans of lager from the fridge, and held them up.

    "We shall partake the same as Our Hero," he inclined his head in a nod.

    I walked over to stand next to him. "Now, we''re going to have to change that up, at least in front of others. Name''s Mai, remember?" I held out one of the cans.

    "Only you can understand Us in this world," he chided, then added, "Mai." He paused a moment before accepting the beer, and held the can in both hands before him.

    "Well, it makes me uncomfortable," I sat down across from him, set my can down on the table, and opened it. Iter watched my motions, and did the same. "Just Mai is fine. Like before, in that place."

    "The Divine Realm. Understood, Mai." He smiled brightly, looking straight at me. It was a bit discomfiting.

    I picked up the spoon and raised it to draw his attention. He did the same. I scooped up some rice, and he followed suit. It was still pretty hot, so I blew on the steam. Iter did, too, which was oddly adorable. I stared at him, momentarily fascinated by the gap between his presence and his mannerisms. He looked back at me expectantly, and I quickly looked away. Then I put the spoonful of fried rice in my mouth, and looked back at Iter to see if he did, too.

    He moved his mouth somewhat mechanically, his eyes narrowed and attention focused inward. I chewed as well. Wow, it tasted pretty good. The chicken was a bit bland, but I was surprised how delicious the simple meal tasted. My stomach rumbled expectantly. They say hunger is the best spice, after all.

    "What happens next?" Iter asked, bits of fried rice spraying from his full mouth onto the table.

    "Don''t talk with your mouth full!" I had barely swallowed before exclaiming in surprise. I leapt up and hurriedly fetched a towel to wipe up the food from the table.

    "Our mouth was hardly full," He replied, this time holding a hand in front of his mouth. "though We understand it is unpleasant for the food to leave it." He watched me curiously as I endeavored to wipe up the food. "But what are We supposed to do with the food once it is broken down?"

    "You swallow it," I replied, moving around to my bowl and taking another small mouthful, then quickly making an exaggerated swallow to demonstrate. The god copied my motions, then gazed inward for a moment, as if tracking the movement of the rice through his esophagus. Then he frowned and gently placed the spoon onto the table next to his bowl.

    "We found the sense of taste to be appealing, and We can see why mortals would relish it so," he reported. Then he looked up from the dish to me, with a look of distaste. "But We found its movement through Our body after swallowing to be mildly displeasing. We may ask for some kind of bowl or dish for disposing of used food the next time We partake."

    "That''s¡­ not going to happen." I pictured the scene playing out like some kind of bizarre hedonistic ritual, and shook my head. This was not going at all like I''d expected.

    "Then We may simply observe, if that is acceptable." He picked a grain of rice from the side of his mouth, and set it carefully back in his bowl.

 Chapter 6: Intelligent Design

    "So tell me more about these Hero powers I have now." We''d moved back to the front room after I''d finished my dinner. The remains of Iter''s meal now fed the compost bin. I took the lounge chair this time, and Iter sat on the sofa nearby. Taiga was off somewhere, having asserted her ownership rights sufficiently to her mind. I took a swig of my drink. Well, technically my second drink, since Iter had opted not to consume the lager I''d opened for him.

    "Where would you want to begin?" Iter asked, composing himself in his seat.

    "Well, I tested out some things, but not others." I thought back. "There were a whole bunch of skills listed with fancier names, but it wasn''t clear how to activate them." I pulled up the Status screen once again, then scrolled down to the skills list and picked the first one I saw. "There''s one called ''Adept of Ages''. What''s that do?"

    "Adept of Ages is a passive skill that boosts your Mind attribute by a set percentage." Iter recited readily, posture perfect as if he were an elocution instructor. He seemed to be enjoying the interaction, and exuded a sense of satisfaction.

    "Okay, but what does that mean?"

    He looked nonplussed for a moment, then sat back and looked up, considering. "Perhaps We need to start closer to the root of it." He repositioned himself in his seat, and sat up even straighter. "There are 4 core attributes that the Divine Communion abstracts and interacts with, and which form the basis of all other derived attributes and skills: Body, Mind, Spirit, and Luck." He looked at me for acknowledgement.

    "Yep, I see those in Status." They were:

    Core Attributes

    Body: 30 (x1.25 = 37)

    Spirit: 70 (x1.25 = 87)

    Mind: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Luck: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    "Body represents your physical being; health, stamina, endurance, etc. Spirit represents how in tune you are with the world around you, your ability to sense the essence and energies of the world, make connections, and interact with them. Your Spirit also effectively governs your ability to manipulate Magic as well." He looked at me meaningfully here, but it rolled off my ignorance. "And finally, Mind, which represents your mental faculties, but also your ability to see patterns, perform analysis and synthesis, and focus your thoughts to the task at hand." He paused to gauge my understanding.

    I nodded to show I was following along. "What about Luck?"

    "Luck represents your ability to influence the element of chance and chaos in the world." He replied. "We would not recommend you rely on it, but being able to tip the scales when they are at balance provides a useful benefit in the long term."

    "So what, I can choose to succeed at something if the outcome is close enough?" That sounded cool.

    "No, these are all passive abilities at their foundation. It is more appropriate to think of it as a rounding process, where the accumulated effect creates a more positive outcome over time. You may not ever recognize it in the moment, but Luck will provide small benefits that accrue."

    Hmm, less cool, but frankly I''d take all the luck I could get at this point.

    "So Divine Communion grants these abilities." I considered something that had been bothering me for a bit, then asked, "So why is my Body attribute so low compared to Spirit or Mind? As a Hero, couldn''t you have set me to be high-spec across the board?"

    "The Divine Communion is an interface, a catalyst, and a means to apply Divine power to affect outcomes. But it operates primarily by interacting with your soul, which forms the raw material for the initial baseline. Put simply, you are smarter today than you are strong, Mai, so the Divine Communion represents this."

    I looked closely, but couldn''t tell if he was teasing me or not. I decided to let it go.

    "But as the Divine Communion engages with you over time, your attributes and skills should increase. This is the essence of what it means to be a Hero."

    As I thought about this, he continued, warming to a topic he obviously felt some pride in.

    "Derived attributes are those that, as the name implies, are derived either directly or in combination from your core attributes. However, unlike core attributes, derived attributes may also represent pools of resources that can be utilized for various effects, as with Health, Magic, and Focus."

    I referenced the next section of my Status:

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 37 (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Focus: 62 (+)

    Charm: 62

    Intuition: 50

    Will: 75

    Fate: ??? (+)

    There certainly were a few more of them.

    "Health, Magic, and Focus follow directly from Body, Spirit, and Mind respectively. Charm, Intuition, Will, and Fate, are combinations of the core attributes; Charm derives from Body and Spirit, Intuition from Body and Mind, and Will from Spirit and Mind."

    "And Fate?" I was wondering about that one, since it was displayed as ???.

    "Fate is unique, in that it is derived from a combination of all core attributes, as well as other factors." I waited for him to continue, but he didn''t. He sat waiting for my acknowledgement, as he had before.

    After an awkward pause, I asked the obvious question, "So why don''t I see numbers after Fate? Is it due to these other factors or something?"

    "We cannot tell you. We can say that Fate is intentionally obscured." He looked at me impassively.

    "Why?" I asked after a moment of silence, brow furrowed trying to reason this circumstance out. Everything else had been so straightforward, bordering on the simplistic.

    "Because knowledge of this value would affect it. Fate is effectively unknowable by the Hero," he replied.

    I thought about it. "That sounds like some quantum theory shit, where measuring the outcome causes it to change."

    He lifted his chin thoughtfully, and nodded. "That is an apt analogy."

    I''m no product designer, but that seemed like a poor UI choice. "So then, why include it in Status at all? Why not leave it off as a hidden variable, or something?"

    "Because there are instances where Fate comes into play, and the Hero should see that relationship. Also, as your God, We can see your Fate." He quickly added, "And no, We cannot reveal it. Nor would We wish to." He smiled as if at a mischievous child.

    I wasn''t going to ask, but I decided to let it go and pick on something else I''d wondered about. "What are these little plus-sign things after some of the attributes?"

    "Those relate to skills, indicating that this attribute receives some manner of bonus due to one or more skills in effect. For example, We described the skill Adept of Ages as a passive skill that boosts your Mind attribute by a set percentage." He stood and walked over to me. He bent over on the arm of my chair where I was looking at Status, and pointed to the skill in the skill list. "Adept of Ages boosts Mind, which provides an increase to your Focus pool. In this case, that can be determined through computation to be a 25% increase." He leaned in towards me expectantly, clearly seeking some kind of reaction. His face was right next to mine.

    "That''s¡­ pretty good?" I said, taken a little aback by his closeness.

    He beamed, accepting my response as praise. "Indeed! We chose this skill and other passive skills to deliver the maximum benefit!" Smugness radiated from him.

    I focused on the skills list to avoid looking at him. There were passive skills for every core attribute, as well as some like Swift Regeneration that improved the recovery of derived skills. Those seemed pretty straightforward, though at some point I might want to verify the rates the god mentioned to see if everything was boosted by the same amount. Maybe replicate this in a spreadsheet to see if I could glean anything additional from the numbers and rates. I thought about experiments I could do as I looked over the skills. The names were all fairly grandiose and cringe. I mean, Destiny''s Chosen? I might as well put on an eye patch and exclaim about the sealed power in my left hand.

    "What does this one do," I pointed to the Status, since Iter was still here, basking in self-satisfaction. The skill I was pointed at was:

    Inner Alchemy (convert Health/Magic/Focus)

    "Does that mean I can change Focus to Magic, and vice versa?"

    Iter redirected his attention to the Status and nodded, "Yes, but only up to the maximum." He pointed at the Magic attribute, where it displayed Magic: 0 [max 87]. "You cannot exceed the maximum value, but you could quickly use one pool to regenerate another that had been depleted. It comes at an increased cost to the other, though."

    I looked at the ''0'' displayed for Magic, and thought, why not? I didn''t want to mess with my Health, so I concentrated on willing my Magic to go up and my Focus down.

    Immediately a wave of mental exhaustion came over me. At the same time, I saw my attributes change:

    Health: 37 (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.Focus: 52 [max 62](+)

    I quickly recovered from the sensation of exhaustion, but a slight headache remained. I could tell my Focus had depleted slightly. But Magic still remained at 0.

    "It didn''t work."

    Iter peered at the Status, then nodded expectantly. "Yes, We anticipated this was the case. There is no Magic in this world, you see. While the Divine power We granted can do much, We cannot create Magic from nothing." He frowned apologetically.

    That was a little disappointing. Some part of me was hoping I''d found a loophole, a way to use Magic like a character that travels to another world with cheat abilities. Ah, well, I guess nothing''s easy. I noticed Focus tick upward to 53 while I was contemplating this circumstance. I suspected Still Mind had activated to regenerate my Focus now that it had gone down. I confirmed this quickly in the Journal, and then went back to thinking about what happened. While that didn''t turn out as well as I''d hoped, it did show I could move some attributes around, which still sounded like a good skill to have. I might have even been able to heal myself faster in the hospital if I''d used this skill ¨C though I shuddered at the thought of the headache I''d have received by dumping all my Focus into my nearly empty Health all at once. Still, this line of thinking was both weird, and oddly familiar. I took a sip of my forgotten lager. It had grown unpalatably warm, and I scowled while swallowing.

    "It all seems like some kind of tabletop rpg or video game."

    Iter looked at me blankly. "What manner of game?"

    "A game, played on a, hmm, a computer?" I could see the puzzlement on his face. "A type of machine. And it''s displayed on a TV or monitor." I was explaining video games and computers to a god in my front room, and it''s not remotely the strangest thing I did today. "You''re a god, you know about quantum mechanics. You have to know about computers."

    "We do not. Is it a calculation device? That you play games with?" He tilted his head at me.

    I was dumbfounded.

    He expanded, "The quantum mechanics you reference are fundamental forces, they are entirely different from these ''computers'' you describe. Our knowledge of tools and devices is focused upon the world of the Demon Seed. We understood the details of your world of origin would be somewhat irrelevant in your new role." He frowned a little at this misjudgment. Then he brightened, "But We are eager to learn."

    Lacking context for how to explain the whole concept of computers and modern technology, I grabbed a controller from where it sat on the coffee table. I turned it and the game console on, then pressed the power button on the TV remote control. The game console start-up music sounded briefly, then the base menu appeared. The god watched on with curiosity.

    I started up one of my favorite RPGs, and loaded a saved game to quickly show him what I meant. "This is a game run on a device called a gaming console. In the game, you play as a character you created, and do quests using skills and magic."

    The god had risen and walked over to the TV. "So this is¡­a simulation of some kind?" He knelt down and pressed a hand to the TV and left it there, his eyes darting to each source of movement in the game.

    "It''s a simulation, yes, but these images are generated within the game console, and then rendered on the TV screen. Well, if it''s an online game, some of the information is coming from a server somewhere." I saw him looking back at me in confusion. "Nevermind, let''s keep it simple. The information comes from this box," I walked up and pointed out the console, "and then is transmitted from a cable to this screen." I pointed to the TV.

    "What is that device you are holding?" Iter had turned to focus on my hands.

    "It''s a controller. I use it to manipulate the character on the screen, and any other elements that the game design allows me to."

    "There are no cables to connect the item you hold to either box or screen," he observed.

    "Yeah, then we get into wireless networks and other technologies that would be hard to explain. But it works, see?" I manipulated the controls and made the avatar on the screen jump and move around. "But I brought it up because of this." I launched the character screen, with all its attributes and skills.

    "Most intriguing." Iter breathed, taking in all the details. "It does bear a striking resemblance to the Divine Communion in superficial aspects." He leaned back. "I wonder if a bearer of the Divine Communion somehow replicated it in the past."

    "Or maybe the gods copied our world''s games as a convenient interface?" I countered.

    He gave me a condescending look. "Preposterous. The Divine Communion has been bestowed upon multiple ages of Heros," he paused. "Though it is true that time is not a constant between worlds." He seemed to come to some internal conclusion. "This bears investigating. Mai, let Us have charge of that ''controller''." He held out his hand expectantly.

    I blinked. "Uh, hold on, let me get you set up with a new profile. I don''t want you ruining my saves." I opened the home screen and began to create a new profile. The god pouted for a moment, then moved to sit down in the center of the coach, across from the TV.

    "Very well," he replied, and watched the screen with interest as I manipulated menus. The tiredness of the day was catching up to me, despite the regenerative properties of my skills. I started thinking about going to sleep, when it struck me.

    "Do you have anywhere to go tonight, or¡­" I said as I handed Iter the controller.

    He took it, and immediately began using it to flit through the different menus of the game''s home page, reading through all the options. "No," he replied, "do you?"

    A worrying thought began to form.

    "Uh, where were you planning to sleep tonight?"

    "We do not sleep."

    "Really? But, no, that''s not what I''m asking. Do you have somewhere else to stay, or¡­" I trailed off, both afraid of and expecting the answer.

    "We plan to remain close to you, wherever Our Hero journeys." He raised his eyebrows, looking at me as if the answer was self-evident.

    I squeezed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. I was too tired to care anymore. I poured out the unfinished beer in the kitchen sink, then quickly showed him how to operate the lights, the TV, and where the various controls were. I pointed out the bathroom down the hall, but he didn''t seem to need that, either (though he did seem curious). Then I pointed out where my room was, banned him from entering under any circumstances, and went to bed.

    ? ? ?

    "We have arrived at a hypothesis."

    This was how I was greeted first thing in the morning, before I''d made my coffee. I waved a hand vaguely in Iter''s direction, sitting cross-legged on one end of the couch in front of the TV, controller still in his hands. Curled up on the couch cushion as far from Iter as possible, lay a dozing Taiga. I was wearing a white mecha-anime themed t-shirt, a dark red zip-up fleece jacket, charcoal jogger pants, and slippers due to the cold hardwood floors. I had my hair up in a messy bun and my contacts in, but everything was still blurry in the morning fatigue. I blinked and muttered a pretty good semblance of a "good morning" and went to the kitchen to assemble a cup of caffeine.

    His voice followed me, "The Communion takes the form of an interface you are familiar with. In this case, a video game character screen. Were you unfamiliar with such games, it is likely a different sort of interface would appear instead."

    I filled the reservoir on the K-Cup machine and waited for the water to boil. "You said a hypothesis. Didn''t you make this thing? Don''t you know?" I called out.

    "We did not invent the Communion, another God did. You met Him, actually ¨C it was Metam who first crafted the Communion and created the first Hero. In any event, We merely brought the Communion into being through the means of the contract. You are Our first and only hero."

    I put in a new pod, and pulled down the lever in front. "There can be only one?" I muttered under my breath, as I pushed the cup size button to start. I re-entered the room, and leaned against a wall. I scratched my head and yawned, then peered more closely at the god. "Do you have any other clothes?" The white god robes he wore were still immaculate and unwrinkled, but if he was going to be hanging around, it would be better to blend in.

    "We can appear in any guise desired," he began, then paused. "Oh! Is this like the character creation screen, where We choose our appearance?" He looked at me in anticipation.

    "Nothing so drastic, but those robes stand out. Can you change into other clothes?" I thought for a moment. "I could lend you a t-shirt and some pants until we can get to a store. They''d be a little short, though." I winced a little internally at the thought of spending my now fixed funds on new clothes for a god.

    "No need," he replied, and instantly he was wearing the same leather armor outfit as his character on the TV. The female character.

    "Wow! Uh, that''s amazing, but¡­ that outfit is worse than the robes. Unless we''re going to a cosplay convention," I added. The gear was really very detailed. And, being a video game, very unrealistically feminine. He''d even changed his hairstyle into a long braid down his back to match. I wasn''t at all jealous of how pretty he looked.

    "Hm," he thought, then instantly he was wearing the same anime t-shirt and sweatpants I was wearing. "How is this, then?"

    I goggled at him, then put my hand over my face. This is both easier and harder than I expected. "I was thinking something that was more your own style."

    He lifted the hem of the shirt and seemed oddly disappointed, then looked at me. "We have no concept of what style is considered appropriate in this world. What would you suggest?"

    I fought back some vindictive and unhelpful thoughts, then had an idea. "Let me show you some different styles, and you can decide what you like the most."

    I collected my laptop from the desk where it was charging, and brought it to the coffee table. I sat down in the middle, between Taiga and where Iter had been sitting previously. Taiga raised her head at the disruption of her nap, then lowered it gently back down. I opened a browser tab and brought up an online shopping site.

    "Here are a few different outfits to start with." I showed him some men''s casual wear to start. I pondered briefly whether I was restricting his tastes too much by focusing on men''s clothes. While he presented as more androgynous than masculine, he was a god. Maybe he thought differently about himself? Thereself? "You can also browse to different categories if you want, and get an idea of different styles." Then I thought about the initial outfit he tried. "Maybe stick to the current season''s featured fashions as a safe choice for now."

    "Very well," he leaned over to see the laptop screen. I slid it in front of him, and shifted over to the side on the couch so he could sit down more easily. He did, and I gave him a quick orientation on how to use the touchpad, how to navigate a browser window, and then left to retrieve my finished and cooling coffee.

    "One more thing," he called from the front room. "There appears to be a quest We are unable to complete within the game due to something called a ''DLC''. Can you acquire it?"

    ? ? ?

    A mug of coffee warming my hands, I sat in the lounge chair again, bemused at the progress Iter had made through the game overnight. Taiga had shifted from her puddle on the coach to bask in the sun of a nearby window ledge. She yawned, and idly watched the birds flit around the lemon tree in the yard of the house next door.

    Iter''s character had to be level 7 already, and he''d passed the first stage of the game. I didn''t think it was possible to get that far in one night, especially for a game this size. Most distressingly, he''d named his character ''Mairead''.

    As to his outfit, he''d settled on a white, loose long sleeve shirt and fitted cream-colored jeans. He even added a portion of the pattern that was on his robes along the hem, collar, and sleeves of his new shirt in silver embroidery. He kept his hair long, but now had it in a loose ponytail down his back. Seeing him in modern attire, cross-legged on the couch and deeply engrossed in a video game, was strangely unsettling. He was still barefoot, though.

    "About these divine powers ¨C how do they work, exactly?" Watching him shift outfits rapid-fire had made me curious all over again about what he was capable of. "I thought you said magic doesn''t work here? That," I waved vaguely at his new outfit, "seems pretty magical to me." This had occurred to me last night as I was falling asleep, too, so I tried asking.

    "It doesn''t, and Divinity is not Magic." He quickly took out a group of enemy knights blocking a pass, directing his character to cast AoE control spells, while maneuvering his tank and rogue companions to engage and flank. "A simple way to imagine it is that Magic manipulates physical reality, while Divine power manipulates the soul and spiritual world."

    I thought about that, and took a sip of coffee while his archer mopped up the stragglers with a skill. "Wait, that doesn''t hold up. Your divine power, or the Communion, or whatever, healed my physical body. Wouldn''t that be Magic then?"

    "I said it was a simple analogy," He shrugged. "But Our Divine power is far from simple." A smug grin spread across his face, as he felled the last enemy with a spell.

    I was about to reply, when the doorbell rang. A black an orange blur jumped down from the window, as Taiga headed towards the back of the house. Thinking it could be a delivery, I set my coffee down and went to the front door. Alameda was fairly safe as far as places in the Bay Area went, but occasionally packages go missing. I saw the silhouette of a person through the frosted window next to the door, and frowned. Something needs signing?

    Opening the door, I saw Bushra Patel standing on the wide porch, wearing a puffy black winter parka, gray loose knit hat, and a disgruntled expression. The last time I saw her, she was trying to strangle the VP of Engineering. A familiar cardboard box was in her hands. I stood still, mouth open, my thoughts in disarray. She glared at me with dark, appraising eyes, before she pushed the box into my hands and propelled herself past me, inside.

    "I brought your things. Let¡¯s talk."

 Chapter 7: Party Up

    "Wait a minute!" I said, recovering my voice. Bushra stopped in the hallway and looked back at me, challengingly. Then she seemed to examine me more closely, and her expression changed to confusion.

    "You''re looking well." Almost accusatory.

    "Uhm, thanks?" I replied, not really sure how to respond. Her tone didn''t sound like she was concerned about my well-being.

    "Maybe it wasn''t as bad as it looked." She murmured, her expression pensive.

    "What?" I wasn''t sure I caught that.

    "Well, if you are up and moving around, that works for the better." She continued into the house, but halted at the first interior doorway to the front room.

    Box in hand, I quickly caught up. Bushra was staring at Iter, sitting gracefully on the sofa, his face serene, and his hands folded on his lap. The TV in contrast was playing loud combat background music in stark contrast to his demeanor, the screen paused on his game. The game controller sat conspicuously on the coffee table in front of him.

    "Who''s this?" Bushra demanded, eyes not moving from Iter. I slipped awkwardly past her into the room, setting down the box on the coffee table, mind racing on what to do next.

    "Iter, this is my coworker, er, former coworker, Bushra¡­ " I blanked on her last name in the moment, and looked in her direction.

    "Bushra Patel," she said, standoffish.

    "Right, sorry. Bushra, this is Iter," I turned to the god, hoping he had a plan for this. His unclouded smile of welcome gave me no hints. "Iter is staying with me for a while." I finished lamely.

    Bushra gave a fleeting smile back to Iter, almost involuntarily, then moved her more business-like gaze to me. "I want to talk to you about work." She paused and stared at me. When I didn''t respond, she gave a tilt of her head in Iter''s direction. "Does he know?"

    I looked at Iter, who was now considering Bushra appraisingly. "Yeah, Iter is pretty well informed on that." Then I looked back to Bushra. This whole situation was strange, even leaving out the god playing video games on my couch. Bushra and I knew each other, but only as work colleagues. Her presence here didn¡¯t make any sense ¨C it was weird that she even knew where I lived. "What do you want to talk about?" I asked, folding my arms and narrowing my eyes.

    She gave another quick glance to Iter, then moved over to the box where I''d set it down. She tipped the lid off, and pointed at the inside. "I read that," she said, accusation and defensiveness in equal parts warred on her face. Her eyes shifted around the room, then back to me.

    I looked in the box, not sure what she was getting at. On top was a loose packet of papers. It looked like my personal things from the office. I also saw my phone inside, and reached to pick it up. The screen was cracked and the case scuffed more than I recalled, but the lock screen appeared when I picked it up. Almost out of power, but still working.

    "I didn''t mean to," she blurted, looking for all the world like a child caught doing something wrong, "But I collected them, after you¡­ after the accident." She trailed off, looking to the side.

    I wondered what she was talking about. I put my phone on a side table and plugged it into a waiting cable. Then I picked up the top paper in the box. After skimming it, I realized it was my exit paperwork. This page in particular was spelling out my various "crimes". In fact, as I read further, this was tantamount to a confession ¨C if I signed this document, I''d effectively be admitting to guilt. I inhaled sharply, as white hot anger rose up the back of my neck and filled my mind, like a slow-motion explosion rising in a cloud of hot air and flame.

    "So. You read this," I dropped the paper back in the box like a lit match. "What do you want?" I turned back to Bushra, unable to keep the tension out of my voice. She swallowed, her face was as taut as my nerves felt, but she stood her ground. In the periphery of my vision, I noticed Iter had stood up at some point, but I had no attention to spare for him at the moment.

    "I don''t believe it. What''s written there," She started, an anger of her own fueling her words. "They lied to me, stole from me, too." She lifted her chin. "I want you to help me take it back." Her eyes burned into me, and I could feel my guard melt away in the blaze of that glare.

    ? ? ?

    Bushra was sitting on the sofa next to Iter, and I was back in the lounge chair. She''d taken off her coat and draped over the arm of the couch. She was wearing a simple black long sleeve shirt, blue jeans and black mid-calf winter boots underneath. She had declined my offer of coffee, and requested tea instead. I had a stash of black tea with lemon that I used occasionally, and a hot cup of it was now sitting, untouched, on the coffee table.

    "I also picked up these," she said, and quietly pulled something out of her bag. It was my missing wallet and keys. She handed it over to me. I picked them up and cursorily looked inside the wallet, before setting them down on the coffee table next to the box. "The ambulance left before I could hand them over. So I picked it all up together." She glanced over at the box. "That''s how I knew where you lived." She picked up the tea in front of her and held it with both hands, taking a sip. She seemed smaller than earlier, minus her puffy coat and her body pulled in as if crouching behind the cup of tea.

    "You were there?" I asked, wondering where to start. Iter quietly watched us both, his thoughts unreadable.

    She nodded. "I called 911. You were¡­ hurt pretty bad." She was staring at her cup, unfocused. Then she looked over at me sidelong. "You look okay now."

    "Looks can be deceiving," I deflected. Shit. I wonder what I looked like then. I have no idea how injured I was before Swift Regeneration, they didn''t go over it in the hospital. Probably weird to tell a patient they''d broken 11 bones, but everything seems fine now. "So what did you mean, they stole from you, too?" I pulled the conversation back to the point at hand.

    "You know the product I was working on, right?"

    "Virtual office stuff, right?" I was tangentially familiar with what that team was working on. Like many software companies, there was huge investment going into software solutions to bring teams in different locations together to collaborate virtually.

    "ARC. Augmented Reality Collaboration. I built it. The code in that product? It''s all mine." Bushra lifted her chin.

    "What do you mean?" There was more to that look than pride in her work.

    "I was hired last year, specifically because I created the proof of concept for this product as a project at university. I built an AR interface and the framework to share a representation of a physical space, and interact with it in real-time to anyone with a smartphone and a pair of AR glasses. I patented it. It''s mine." Her voice was quieted, but lost none of her previous intensity. I had known Bushra was considered a talented engineer, but had no idea her work was that integral to the product they were building. I''d first met Bushra when I led a project to evaluate and bring on a new technical partner, and she was the technical point of contact on our end. I''d wondered at the time why an engineer right out of school was so deeply involved. I''d thought at first it was a minor product feature, and they''d let the new recruit take it on to get their feet wet. But Bushra knew every technical detail, and had immediate answers for the vendor''s engineers who joined the calls. I''d assumed she busted her ass diving into the code and systems in advance, but it appears she was even more impressive than that.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    "I signed up with Complyze because I wanted to take ARC to the next level, and they said all the right things," She paused a moment, her jaw bunching before relaxing. "They accepted the terms I asked for. I still owned the code, they only licensed it. Stock, bonus, a senior position, promise of more when it went to General Availability."

    "If it was that big a deal, why not launch it yourself? Why join Complyze?"

    "No capital, no connections to get it. Lots of student debt." She looked at me, exasperated. "I''m a brown-skinned woman in my twenties in Silicon Valley. No one is going to take me seriously, at least, not enough to fund me. And then here was this opportunity," she glared at a point on the floor. "All the backing and support I needed." She squeezed her eyes closed, and tilted her head back as if trying to avoid something.

    "So what went wrong?" I knew what I thought ¨C screwing founders out of their work is as old as Silicon Valley.

    "If I''m fired for cause, everything goes up in smoke. The position, obviously, the unvested stock ¨C which is most of it, pre-GA ¨C even the bonus has a clawback. I owe them money now." She fell back into the sofa cushions, arms crossed, fuming.

    So now I know why she came here after seeing my exit paperwork. Commiseration, maybe, and also looking for a potential confederate. But something else was bugging me.

    "But why fire you, if you''ve already patented the code? They''d lose access to the one thing that made the whole thing valuable. Right? Or did it not actually work?"

    "It worked!" Bushra replied heatedly. "We were focusing mostly on integrating the code bases and UX controls, we''d passed the initial security and compliance audits months ago." A pause. "The license was the one thing that wasn''t terminated. They have a non-exclusive, unlimited right to use the code. They don''t need to own it. They can do whatever they want with it and I get nothing." She ducked her chin, spitting out the words like vinegar. "I thought I was clever. I even had an IP lawyer help with the negotiations. They said they wouldn''t launch a major product without full control of the code, but I wanted to keep ownership. The unlimited license was the compromise." She closed her eyes, her jaw tight.

    I leaned back in my chair, and let the silence ruminate. "What was their cause for firing you?"

    She barked a laugh, and swiveled her head to me, her tongue in her cheek, grinning. Her eyes were smoldering, though. "Sexual harassment. I apparently forced myself on Jon." Jon Hu was her boss, the VP of Engineering. "They said I tried to blackmail him into an affair, threatening to tell his wife that he seduced me unless he went along." Her fierce look turned bitter. "Thorsten said he witnessed it." That would be Thorsten van den Berg, the Chief Marketing Officer. "Coward," she added, quietly, though it was unclear which of the men she meant.

    I regarded her, my right hand pressed against pursed lips, considering. If I hadn''t had my own recent experience, sad to say I might have had suspicions about her story. The more salacious the details, the less people would want to get involved, but the more people would talk about it. But now it was hard not to see the parallels with my own situation. The accusation, the manufactured witness, the calculated crime to threaten maximum embarrassment, legal, and professional repercussions. The ''easy'' way out to make it all go away. Hearing about it happening to someone else brought into clarity how awful it was, how premeditated and cruel. "I assume you got a ''special'' packet of your own." I said, dryly.

    "Practically copies." She grinned, ruefully.

    "You want me to help you. Take it back, you said. How?" This was the part I didn''t understand.

    "Simple. Let''s build our own app, and beat them to it!" Her eyes burned bright, the corners of her mouth curling upwards.

    My eyes widened in shock. "How do you plan to do that? They''ve got the license."

    "They have a non-exclusive license. There''s some terms to prevent me from licensing it to another party again for 5 years, but there''s nothing preventing me from using the code I wrote. We can make it ourselves! Let''s start a company!"

    Iter had been sitting on the couch listening patiently this whole time. But now he leaned forward, eyes flashing. At the same time, I saw a little notification message pop up, weirdly superimposed over the lower right field of my vision. It said:

    New Quest.

    Reclaim Stolen Honor!

    Accept? Y/N

    What the hell? Bushra was still staring at me intently. A quest? I tore my focus back to Bushra. "It''s worth looking into," I said automatically, a common phrase I''d used whenever anyone pitched a new feature or idea during a product meeting. Not dismissive, but noncommittal. Bushra seemed to take it at face value, her expression showing happiness for the first time since she arrived.

    "Great!" She nodded. "Where do we start?"

    Iter seemed about to say something, but I jumped in first. "Well, I haven''t eaten yet, what do you say we all get some food first and brainstorm a few ideas?" I needed some space to figure things out.

    "Sure, that sounds great - I''m totally starving! I drove over first thing." Bushra leaned back into the sofa, some of her prior intensity ebbing.

    "Let me change real quick, and then we''ll get going." I stood up, barely waited for an affirmative reply, and made for the privacy of my bedroom. Bushra looked satisfied, before turning toward Iter. I heard her ask, "So, are you Mai''s boyfriend, or¡­ ?"

    I hurriedly closed the bedroom door before I was sucked into that conversation.

    ? ? ?

    I quickly changed into jeans, left my fleece coat on, and pulled on a pair of socks and ankle boots. Taiga was sitting in the center of my bed, tail wrapped protectively around her. She looked at me with slitted eyes, her ears following as I moved around the room getting dressed. Once I was done, I quickly opened up my Journal to take a look at the new message. The notification disappeared when I did, but I could see the message clearly in the latest Journal entry:

    New Quest.

    Reclaim Stolen Honor!

    Accept? Y/N

    Nothing else. I sat on the bed, trying to think of what to do, if anything. I had two options, obviously, accept the quest or decline it. I was afraid of what accepting the quest would mean, but I also suspected that saying no would mean the quest would disappear forever. I should probably leave it until I have a chance to ask Iter about it. This was new territory.

    I heard muffled talking from through the door. I wondered how their conversation was going. Out of curiosity, I opened my map to check if Bushra and Iter were still in the front room. But this time, in addition to the arrow marker that was me, and the blue dot representing Iter, I saw three more things: An exclamation point was next to Iter, where I assume Bushra was sitting; a question mark was on the coffee table, a little to the side; and finally, a little box-shaped icon was just outside the house. Curious, I focused on the exclamation point, and the message "New Quest from Bushra Patel: Reclaim Stolen Honor" appeared. Okay. Then I focused on the question mark. Nothing. No message popped up, but by zooming in closer I was able to determine that the question mark was in the cardboard box Bushra had brought me. I repeated the process with the box icon, but I couldn''t figure it out. It was definitely outside the house, but in the bushes on the side of the exterior wall.

    Figuring I''d been gone long enough, I left my bedroom and grabbed a suitable one of my coats for Iter from the coat rack. I could see Iter and Bushra on the sofa, an awkward silence between them. Iter was smiling his usual serene smile, but Bushra''s return smile was fixed and at a loss. I walked into the room, picked up my wallet and keys, and put them in my pockets. I looked at my phone, but it was still charging. Bushra stood up abruptly when she saw me enter, grabbing her own parka.

    "So, is your boyfriend from Europe or something?" She asked, gratefully latching on to someone she could understand.

    "Swiss," I leaned into the cover that I''d given Kris. "And he''s not my boyfriend. He''s¡­ " I struggled with how to describe our relationship, as I picked up the controller and suspended the gaming console and turned off the TV. Iter glanced worriedly in the direction of the TV, before resuming the calm serenity that was his natural state. "...We''re still figuring out our relationship, " I finished lamely. I probably gave Bushra the wrong impression, but the presence of Iter''s indefatigable smile made me want to avoid lying if I could help it. If it stopped Bushra from prying, it was just as well. Iter lifted an elegant eyebrow, and accepted the slate colored padded jacket I handed him. I noticed at some point he''d added a pair of suede ankle boots to his outfit. What the hell, or heaven, I suppose. Roll with it.

    "Shall we go?" I asked, and at their affirmative nods, I turned to the door¡­ and nearly stumbled when the following appeared in my field of view:

    A new Party Member request was received.

    Accept? Y/N

 Chapter 8: Breadcrumbs

    "Can you hold on a sec, Bushra? I don''t have my hat. Iter, can you help me find it?" I dissembled on the doorstep, then pulled Iter back inside toward the bedroom.

    "If you are cold, you can expend Focus to reduce the effect of environmental conditions," Iter mentioned, as he followed.

    "What?" I stopped short, "No, wait, one thing at a time. What is this?" When we passed out of view of the front door, I brought up the journal, where the two messages were waiting, and directed Iter to them.

    "Oh, excellent, We suspected such a thing was possible. Ms. Patel has quite the determination, does she not?" Iter nodded.

    "What should I do about it?" I hissed in a low voice.

    Iter looked surprised. "It is not for Us to say. As the Hero, Our role is to support you." He inclined his head. "You may do whatever you like. However," he continued, "We would advance that this is an excellent opportunity. Your circumstances and those of Ms. Patel seem in alignment."

    Iter seemed in favor, but I still didn''t feel like I grasped the essential points. "Can I cancel either the quest or the party later, if I want?" Was this a one-way decision, in other words?

    "Certainly. You can dismiss either a previously accepted quest or a party member at any time." Iter responded confidently.

    "Okay, then." I suppose we could go into details later. I quickly accepted both the quest and the party member invite. It was quite anticlimactic:

    08:16:22 Me (Hero): New Quest from Bushra Patel: Reclaim Stolen Honor! ¨C Accepted.

    08:16:22 Me (Hero): New Party Member: Bushra Patel ¨C Accepted.

    I grabbed a comfortable slouchy beanie from the dresser, and headed back outside.

    "Sorry for the wait," I said, locking the door and descending the stairs. "Hope you like breakfast diners, Alameda''s full of them."

    "Works for me. We driving?"

    "No, the place I''m thinking of is only a few blocks away. We can walk and talk, if that''s okay?" I suggested.

    "That''s fine, but are you sure you''re up for that? I don''t mind driving." Bushra examined me with concern.

    "No, really, I''m okay. The drugs they gave me work wonders," At least, I assume they did. I hadn''t taken any of them. "I''m fine. Walking in some fresh air will be good for me."

    Bushra seemed unsure, but also unwilling to press. We headed down the road toward Park Street, containing half of the island''s restaurants, including the Eastside Cafe. The sun was bright in the sky, but the Northern California winter cast a light chill over everything. The sidewalk was wide enough for the three of us to walk side-by-side, with me in the middle. Bushra glanced around me to Iter, who was looking around with enjoyment at the brilliant morning light.

    "Does he understand us at all?"

    "We do, Ms. Patel." Iter shocked us both by leaning slightly forward and speaking to Bushra directly.

    While I goggled, Bushra seemed disgruntled. "Then why didn''t you speak English before?" she asked crossly.

    "Now that you have joined Mai''s group, We are able to converse as well." He smiled disarmingly, but Bushra looked dissatisfied.

    "Didn''t trust me?" Bushra frowned, then sighed. "Well I guess I don''t blame you."

    I stared ineffectually at Iter for a moment, then gave up. "Well, Iter is surprising in a lot of ways. But I''m surprised by your story, Bushra. The frame-up seems much more overt than mine was." I looked at her questioning face as we walked. "In my case, you could conceivably deny malicious intent, except on behalf of the vendor who named me directly. And even they could have been protecting someone else, or lying for some other reason. Complyze wouldn''t even have to be aware, they could be just as ignorant as everyone else. I may not have been anything but a convenient and unlucky patsy," I smiled self-deprecatingly. "But in your case," I paused, and chose my words carefully. "You were the intended target, and two officers of the company appear to be clearly lying to set you up."

    Bushra was silent, eyes down and jaw clenched.

    "There''s no chance Jon was confused, or misconstrued something as an advance, was there?" I inquired gently. "He''s never struck me as underhanded or cunning in that way."

    "No. I''ve never been so much as alone in a room with Jon. Or Thorsten."

    "I believe you," I replied, because it needed to be said out loud. "But that means there are some powerful people who are directly involved in screwing you over. They may be watching you closely, suspecting your next move. We either have to protect ourselves, or find a way to hide what we''re doing. Ideally both."

    We were all quiet for a while.

    "But that does make me wonder about my case, again. It seems so petty, in comparison to what they gain from you."

    "Maybe you just pissed someone off?" Bushra offered.

    "Maybe," I replied, not convinced.

    ? ? ?

    The Eastside Cafe was one of a dozen or so restaurants in Alameda that catered specifically to the breakfast and lunch crowd. Not the most popular, nor the highest rated; if there was a niche it filled, it was that it was close to both the local retirement home and the hospital. When we walked inside, the average age of the customers dropped by maybe a couple years (of course, that''s without taking the god into consideration. I think the average of anything and infinity is infinity). The booth seats were old but kept in good repair, the tables chipped but clean. It was run by a Vietnamese family I''d become passingly friendly with over the years, and the staff were all related in some way. The menu had a mix of typical Western fare and Asian dishes They weren''t haut-cuisine, but it was all delicious and comforting. It was low-key, inexpensive, and one of my favorite places.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    "Good morning!" the older of the two waitresses called out as we entered, then moved swiftly to take the order of an elderly couple by the window. t was seat yourself, so I walked over to a clean and empty booth and sat down. Bushra and Iter followed. I looked at the specials written on a whiteboard above the cash register.

    "Do they serve vegetarian food?" Bushra asked, her back to the whiteboard.

    "Yeah, though probably not vegan." I replied.

    "That''s fine, I''m not vegan."

    The younger waitress came and dropped off menus, napkins, and silverware with a friendly greeting. Then she went back to the register and sat down on a stool, pulling out a textbook and notepad from underneath the counter.

    "So, Iter, what do you think of the food in the US?" Bushra asked, looking through the menu.

    "We don''t care for it." Iter had also picked up his menu to examine it.

    Bushra chuckled, "I get that. When I first came here, my brothers and I couldn''t stand American food. Home and food are so closely related."

    "The texture does not agree with Us."

    Bushra looked over at Iter, a little confused. "So are you here with your family, or¡­"

    "No." Iter responded simply, putting down his menu.

    "Oh." I could see Bushra''s puzzlement grow on her face. "Well, you keep saying ''we'', so I was wondering who else you were referring to." Ah, yeah. The god had been doing that since I met him, so I''d completely gotten used to it.

    "We mean only Ourselves," Iter replied, seeming equally confused.

    At their reflected perplexed expressions, I jumped in. "Iter''s comprehension is great, but he still struggles with some things, like pronouns."

    "Oh! Sorry," Bushra quickly offered, eyebrows rising in surprise and distress.

    "No apologies required." Iter graciously responded.

    Bushra and I placed our orders, while Iter demurred. I took a surreptitious peek at my map, and saw the exclamation mark had disappeared from Bushra''s location, but her marker was now a gold color rather than the blue of everyone else in the restaurant. Because she''s a party member now, I wondered? Iter''s marker was still blue, though.

    The food arrived quickly ¨C I''d picked an omelet with spinach, bacon, and Jack cheese, while Bushra opted for an eggplant parmesan. Iter watched on with disinterest.

    "So," I offered between bites. "You have the code. What state is it in?"

    "I have a proof of concept app and documentation, plus the source code. It''s still in my Cloud Service account from when I was a student. It runs in isolation, but it has none of the integrations or API frameworks we''d been building recently. I can''t access any of that anymore."

    "It would probably open us up to lawsuits if we used any code after you joined Complyze, anyway. I''ll want to take a look and see the state of the UI and supporting materials, and how far off from a marketable release we might be.

    "Sure, I can get you an account." Bushra replied, working quickly through her eggplant. "You''ll need the hardware, too ¨C AR displays."

    "Are they specialized? Will we need some kind of hardware partner?" I frowned at the growing complexity and costs.

    "That was the plan. Something about different revenue streams and lock-in with the devices." She wiped her mouth with a napkin. "But I built the prototype with existing AR gaming hardware, since it was easier. So it''s not absolutely necessary."

    "Gaming hardware, hm?" I pondered, picking up a piece of toast from my plate. I''d done competitive analysis often, but this was the first time against my own company. Well, against Complyze, I corrected myself. It made sense for a product targeted for an enterprise market to focus on integrations and other improvements for scale and stability. The hardware aspect was new, something our company hadn''t done before. Maybe this was a diversification play? At any rate, they had better resources and a head start. It was going to be nearly impossible to play catch up.

    "If we want to do this, we need to find a way to shift our target market so we''re not competing directly against their strengths" I proffered, taking a bite of toast and thinking about the implications of using off-the-shelf hardware.

    "Fine by me," she said as she finished off her last bite of eggplant. "I''ll build it, you figure out who will buy it. That''s the plan." She grinned.

    "Well, it''s kind of backwards, but we need to start somewhere." It was less like defining a market and building a new product to meet it, than taking an existing product and trying to alter it in order to expand to new markets. Not the first time a young startup had to pivot to find a better product-market fit, but I think this may be a new record by pivoting before the company was actually created. Or maybe not. Silicon Valley was weird. "So I''ll dig into the app once you set up an account for me, and we''ll go from there."

    Bushra looked excited, but I had to raise the next point.

    "The next thing we need to consider is finance." I looked across the table. "We''re going to incur costs, and we all need to eat." I finished my last piece of toast, glancing at Iter. Well, most of us at any rate. I turned back to Bushra. "Do you have any source of funds for this new venture?"

    "I''ve a small amount of personal savings, but with the bonus clawback there''s not going to be much left. The stock grant was going to set me up, but they took that, too." She looked at me, frowning.

    "I have some savings, too, and at least I don''t have any clawback to worry about." I decided to put all my cards on the table. "I also have a 401k that I''d prefer not to touch. I don''t have any wealthy relatives, and we''re not that close, anyway. Since I won''t be getting any severance, " I grimaced, "I''m going to need a source of income to pay daily expenses."

    "I''m living with my parents right now, so my rent is zero. I have some hefty student loans to pay, though. And I¡­ can''t ask my parents for money." She went silent, looking down.

    It was quiet for a few moments after that. I contemplated the crumbs remaining on my plate. Then a serene voice spoke up.

    "What amount of funds are you seeking?" Iter asked.

    I raised my eyebrows, then thought for a moment. "Well, that depends. We''ll need to put together a business plan. First we figure out all our costs, and then look into pricing to see what we can charge. But we''ll need to know the market we''re targeting for that, and how far off our product is from selling to them, so¡­" Both pairs of eyes were looking at me as if I''d started speaking in tongues. "It''s not an immediate problem, but it won''t go away." I rubbed the back of my head.

    "It''s not quite getting back at the company that stole from me," Bushra began, contemplating. "But this seems more exciting somehow. ''Success is the best revenge'' or so they say." Her lips quirked up into a grin. "Would be nice if we could stick it to them at the same time, though."

    "Yeah, well it''s not going to be easy. We''ll see what I can learn, once I''ve seen what you''ve built." I was trying to keep it noncommittal, but I have to admit the idea was tantalizing. Making things, building something new, finding people who need it ¨C this was why I chose this career to begin with. Figure it out, then figure out what to do.

    "If resources are your obstacle, it may be We can assist you in obtaining them." Iter announced calmly. We both turned to him inquiringly, but Iter merely pursed his lips in contemplation.

 Chapter 9: Next Level

    Iter failed to elaborate on his statement by the time we paid and left the restaurant. I could see Bushra''s intensity had gone down, but it was only banked, not extinguished. I picked up the bill as thanks for returning my things. We were all in a contemplative mood during the walk back to her car, a red compact electric model parked near the front of my house.

    I gave Bushra my contact info before she left, and she promised to send me the access credentials to get started right away. We agreed to work out the next details online, including where and when to meet next. Truthfully, I was skeptical where this would lead, or even if we could maintain the momentum. But I couldn''t completely dismiss the floating feeling of hope and excitement intermingling. I waved goodbye with those emotions and ideas whirling around inside me, and stood on the sidewalk with Iter as Bushra drove away.

    "Mai, please check Location." Iter suddenly requested. He stood behind me, looking around as if seeking something.

    "Okay, sure." I brought the map up and moved so he could see it. In addition to the house and the street, there were my pointer and Iter''s blue dot. Also, the question mark upstairs and the weird box icon showed up again, roughly in the same spots as I saw them last. Iter pointed to the box icon immediately.

    "There. Let Us take a look," and he began walking with purpose over to the side of the house, down a walkway leading to the two other apartments in this building. I followed.

    Iter reached the spot near the wall displayed on Location, and began peering around at the ground.

    "Uh, is this what I think it is?" I began looking around, too.

    "It depends on what you think it is," he responded, moving aside the lower branches of the shrubbery to look beneath.

    "I mean, are we going to find rupees in the tall grass or something?" It seemed unbelievable to me, but no more so than everything else to do with this hero business.

    Iter stopped and stood up, looking at me and frowning. "Even through the translation skill We do not understand what you are saying. Why would there be Indian currency in the grass?"

    "Ah, just a reference to a video game. Rupees are colored gems in that game used for money, and they are typically found in pots or by cutting grass scattered about for the hero to find." It sounded weird when I described it to someone out loud.

    "Strange. Well then," he said, holding out his closed hand. "Here is your rupee, Mai."

    I put out my hand, palm up. Iter cupped my hand with his left hand, and then dropped something small and shiny into it from his right. I was entranced at first, oddly feeling a child-like joy at receiving something out of my youth. I examined the object in my palm.

    "This is a ring?" A gold band with a row of small diamonds along one half of the circumference. It looked like an anniversary band. I rubbed away some caked soil and plant matter. It seemed like the ring had been in the dirt for a while. It was smaller than would fit on any of my fingers, so I assumed it belonged to a woman. Worth a bit, I suppose, but a far cry from fulfilling a youthful fantasy.

    "Your Location can display unclaimed treasure that you can find. We understood money, gems, and precious metals to be valuable tools for the Hero to make use of. We are glad to see it will be of service to you here as well." He inclined his head in a regal and self-satisfied nod.

    "Huh." I turned the ring around and over, examining it. I idly wondered how many pieces of jewelry I''d have to find each month for rent. On the inside I saw an inscription: ''For Grace, all my love''. Hmm? Oh.

    I gave Iter a weak smile, and walked past him. He looked confused and followed as I went down the path on the side of the large Victorian building, and pushed the bell on the first door. A moment went by, and an elderly woman opened it, wearing a maroon cardigan and with her gray hair tied in a loose bun. Bright blue eyes peered out from behind metal framed glasses, and an uncertain smile formed beneath them.

    "Mai, isn''t it? How can I help you?"

    "Good morning Mrs. Klein. Did you happen to lose this?" I said, showing her the ring.

    "Oh my goodness," her fingers reached out to recover the ring. Her hands trembled slightly as I handed it to her, whether from some condition of age or emotion, I couldn''t tell. She turned the ring around in her hand, inspecting every surface. "Where did you find this!"

    "My friend found it under a shrub down the path just now. You must have dropped it somehow." I smiled gently.

    "Bless you, oh bless you both," she breathed, pressing my shoulder with her other hand as if physically trying to impart her gratitude. Her vision was locked on the ring. "I thought it was gone." I could see tears welling up in her eyes, as she at last looked from the ring, to me, to Iter, and back to the ring again.

    "Take good care of it, Mrs. Klein. We have to go now," I backed away, for a couple of reasons: first, to avoid an offer of food or drink I was sure was coming. "Have a pleasant day," I said quickly, and turned aside.

    We left Mrs. Klein at her doorstep, shaking her head slightly, with one hand to her mouth and the other clutching the ring to her breast. I went swiftly back around to my place, Iter following slightly behind. I walked up the stairs tensely, almost not daring to breathe. It wasn''t until I walked inside and closed the door that I focused my attention on the other reason I''d made a hasty retreat: two pop-up notifications had appeared in the bottom right of my field of vision once I''d given Mrs. Klein the ring.

    Quest Complete.

    A Love Remembered.

    Level Up!

    You are now Level 2.

    Mrs. Klein has lived alone the entire time I''ve known her. I only knew her first name from seeing her mail every now and then. I turned to Iter and asked, my voice rising in bewildered dismay, "Is being a hero going to make things like that happen all the time?"

    ? ? ?

    Inside, I took off my fleece coat, and reached out to Iter for his padded jacket. He handed it over to me, and I hung them both up. Then we made our way back to the front room. Taiga was back in the window, this time measuring us with her gaze as we entered.

    "So I leveled up," I sat on the edge of the chair, arms dangling below my knees. "What''s that do?" I couldn''t muster much enthusiasm at this point.

    "That is wonderful news!" Iter exclaimed. He actually clapped his hands together in front of him. "Congratulations, Mai!"

    "Yeah, thanks, it''s amazing," I replied in a monotone. "But what''s it do?"

    "We should see your Status," he remarked, and popped up from the couch to come look over my shoulder.

    I obediently brought up my Status and took a look.

    <blockquote>

    Name: Mai Carrigan

    Race: Human

    Class: Hero

    Level: 2 (+)

    Condition: Normal

    Core Attributes (10 attribute points available)

    Body: 30 (x1.25 = 37)

    Spirit: 70 (x1.25 = 87)

    Mind: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Luck: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 37 (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Focus: 62 (+)

    Charm: 62

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.Intuition: 50

    Will: 75

    Fate: ??? (+)

    Skills (1 skill point available)

    Communion of the Soul, Appraisal, Inventory, Divine Translation, Hero''s Journey (minor bonus to experience), Champion of Light (minor bonus to Body), Inner Eye (minor bonus to Spirit), Adept of Ages (minor bonus to Mind), Fortune''s Favor (minor bonus to Luck), Swift Regeneration (minor bonus to Health recovery), Spiritual Harmony (minor bonus to Magic recovery), Still Mind (minor bonus to Focus recovery), Destiny''s Chosen (minor bonus to Fate), Inner Alchemy (convert Health/Magic/Focus)

    </blockquote>

    "Level two now ¨C and I have attribute points and a skill point?" Okay, I felt myself getting more excited. This was pretty cool. Powering up core attributes sounds like it would raise others, too. And a new skill? I owe my life to Swift Regeneration, something useful like that would be outstanding.

    "As you grow in your experience with the Communion, you can tap a greater accumulation of the Divinity within you. Your level is representative of that growth." Iter''s eyes were wide and sparkling at the display in front of me. He turned to me, flushed with excitement. "You must decide how to apportion your new attribute points and select a skill." The elation emanating from him was a little intoxicating.

    I turned to the screen, and decided to start with the attributes. From my gaming knowledge, some skills had prerequisites, so bringing up the attributes might mean more options for the skill. If this were a game, I''d be looking up an online guide or wiki to learn more about what attributes went with each skill, but that obviously wasn''t going to be available. Or maybe I had another option?

    "Iter, are there any details about the skills you can tell me, like are there attribute thresholds or prerequisites, or skill trees to invest in for super powered skills down the line?"

    "Sadly, We have not that knowledge. What skills are available are subjective to the Hero, so We do not know what may appear or when." His eyes hadn''t dimmed, however. "We can only recommend to be true to yourself and choose what feels right." He closed her eyes in bliss, and opened them wide. "We truly cannot wait to see what kind of Hero you will become!"

    Do what feels right? I rubbed my chin, considering. Okay.

    I focused on the attributes and looked at what my current spread was like. Body was lowest, followed by Mind and Luck, and then Spirit was the highest. If Spirit is the attribute for Magic, it seemed like I''d been following a magic user template so far. But given that magic was non-existent in this world, that doesn''t seem like it would help. Luck seems an attribute with broad applicability, but it was too unpredictable. Bringing up Mind and Body seemed like the right play. It never hurts to be stronger or smarter. I could raise one of them by a full 10 points, but this time I chose to split them to see if I could learn more about how they each affected me. It was changing two variables at a time, but I figured I could tell Body and Mind effects apart. If not, well, I suppose I could try a different tactic when I leveled up again. With this decided, the Status screen immediately updated.

    <blockquote>

    Core Attributes

    Body: 35 (x1.25 = 43)

    Spirit: 70 (x1.25 = 87)

    Mind: 55 (x1.25 = 68)

    Luck: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 43 (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Focus: 68 (+)

    Charm: 65

    Intuition: 56

    Will: 78

    Fate: ??? (+)

    </blockquote>

    I felt¡­ a little different? I''d have to figure out how to test it somehow. But first, let''s take a look at the skill options. I focused on the skill point, and a new menu overlaid on top of my status:

    Available Skills:

    Armor proficiency

    Weapon Proficiency

    Shield proficiency

    Unarmed proficiency

    Air Magic Novice

    Earth Magic Novice

    Fire Magic Novice

    Water Magic novice

    Follow the Leader

    Nimble Escape

    Shadow Step

    Subtle Senses

    Uhm, what''s with these skills. I mean, maybe it''s not too surprising, given the fantasy theme of this whole Hero business. But the top skills were all about combat ¨C fantasy combat, no less, with armor, shields, etc. None of that would be remotely useful to me, unless I started LARPing or working at a Renaissance Fair. The next set of skills were all about magic, which sounded exciting at first read, but they were grayed out and apparently unselectable. I suppose the lack of magic in this world meant you couldn''t pick magic skills. That left the last four, which I was uneasy about. If the first two groups of skills were warrior and mage focused, this last set seemed geared toward a rogue-type class. I wasn''t too keen on investing in skills suited for skulking and stealing. The two that I thought were more generally applicable were Follow the Leader and Subtle Senses. I asked Iter about them.

    "Let me see," He peered at the skill list, attempting to divine (literally) the skills'' effects. "''Follow the Leader'' is a party skill, it grants a boost to a party member''s attribute of your choice. It is similar to the bonuses you receive to your skills, except it applies to your team, not to you. It is also an active skill and uses Focus while it is on. Ah," he smiled, "it seems the bonus it provides is linked to any bonus you currently have active, which in your case is all of them. Rather than a standard 10% bonus, they receive your 25% bonus instead." He nodded, proud of his contribution.

    He continued, "''Subtle Senses is another active skill that extends the range of your visual and auditory perception. You would be able to hear a mouse scampering hundreds of feet away, or count the whiskers of the cat about to pounce on it."

    Subtle Senses sounded cool, but I wonder how practical it would be in this world. The first uses that came to mind were all espionage-related, and I was trying very hard not to fall into that role. Follow the Leader is a party skill? So far my party consisted of Bushra. Giving her a boost when we''re working together might be useful, but I wasn''t sure exactly how.

    I debated for a few more moments, and ultimately chose Follow the Leader. In games, I''d always leaned into support roles that buffed my companions, so this seemed like more my style.

    <blockquote>

    Skills

    Communion of the Soul, Appraisal, Inventory, Divine Translation, Hero''s Journey (minor bonus to experience), Champion of Light (minor bonus to Body), Inner Eye (minor bonus to Spirit), Adept of Ages (minor bonus to Mind), Fortune''s Favor (minor bonus to Luck), Swift Regeneration (minor bonus to Health recovery), Spiritual Harmony (minor bonus to Magic recovery), Still Mind (minor bonus to Focus recovery), Destiny''s Chosen (minor bonus to Fate), Inner Alchemy (convert Health/Magic/Focus), Follow the Leader

    </blockquote>

    I wasn''t sure how to go about testing it with Bushra, without bringing up all the hero stuff. As I thought about my party member, suddenly a new display appeared in front of me:

    Party

    Name: Bushra Patel

    Race: Human

    Class: Software Engineer

    Level: 1

    Condition: Normal

    Disposition: Friendly

    Core Attributes

    Body: 40

    Spirit: 30

    Mind: 75

    Luck: 10

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 40

    Magic: 0 [max 30]

    Focus: 75

    Charm: 35

    Intuition: 57

    Will: 52

    Fate: ???

    Skills

    Divine Translation (Party), Inventory (Party)

    "What the¡­" I breathed. I could see Bushra''s stats on my screen. This was similar to Appraisal, but with more information. And she wasn''t even here.

    "Ms. Patel has exceptional starting attributes," Iter examined the screen analytically. "You have chosen an outstanding party member, Mai."

    I mean, I knew she was intelligent. But Body: 40? She was smarter and stronger than me? Well, before I leveled up, anyway. I was ashamed of how relieved I was that I''d added those Body attribute points, but I looked at my arms dubiously. Maybe I should be working out more. The commute alone can make it hard to exercise, but maybe I could¡­ oh yeah, no commute. I looked up and saw Iter looking back at me, sympathetically.

    "Why aren''t you in my party?" I asked, suddenly.

    Iter''s eyebrows went up, then lowered. He turned his face away. "We are your God. We are not a party member. We do not participate in your journey in that way."

    "Why not?" I wondered, genuinely. It seemed like a natural thing to do, now that I knew party mechanics were a thing. I thought of all the ways it would be useful to have Iter in the party, and the experiments I could run.

    "We cannot." He shut the conversation down, and walked away.

 Chapter 10: Picking Up the Pieces

    I left Iter alone in the front room and went into the kitchen. Taiga jumped down and followed, sensing with the arrogant optimism of a cat the possibility of a treat. I''m not sure what I did wrong, but I must have crossed a line somewhere. I left the god to create some space, unsure of how to recover. I puttered around in the kitchen for a while, cleaned some dishes, wiped down the stove, and thought about lunch options. I wasn''t hungry in the slightest. Taiga meowed and tried her forepaw trick again. It slid right off my occupied perception.

    I''d known Iter for a little over a day. I knew next to nothing about him. He wasn''t even human, he was a god. And yet, I was leaning on him pretty heavily. That was strange. True, he''s the only person who knows anything about this weird hero stuff. Was it odd to be so focused on that? I should be digging out my resume and updating it, and start looking around for a new job. Apply for unemployment. Check in with some of my acquaintances. That was the right next move.

    This thing with Bushra. We''d left it open, but there''s no chance that''s even a viable option. I get she wants to get back at Complyze. A part of me wants to burn that place to the ground. I worked there for 6 fucking years. I had no illusions about anyone giving a shit about me as a person there, but I thought my work had value. I had no idea they were so corrupt. Framed for theft? Bushra for sexual harassment and extortion to steal her app? These weren''t strangers or wild stories on the news. I knew Jon, we had drinks after the last Sales Kickoff, toasted the end of another run. Ben, well, he was a coldhearted bastard. But this? This whole thing made no sense.

    Taiga must have given up and left at some point. I brought up my Status. There it appeared, floating in the air like a hologram. WTF was this even for? A part of me had dove right into this, hero and magic and all. A new place where I could start over, where I made a difference, where someone needed me. It was so easy, it felt so good to believe. I closed the window, and saw my reflection in the glass of the microwave oven.

    Is that what''s going on with Bushra and her app? From one failed fantasy to another? That was stupid. I turned away and went to make a new cup of coffee. I''m a piece of shit for dragging this out and getting her hopes up. I''ll take a look at the app she sends over. If it won''t work, I''ll let her know straight out. If it does¡­ well, it''s a good portfolio of work for her. Maybe I''ll connect her with a couple of my contacts to help her find something new. We were both screwed over, so welcome to the club. People getting screwed right and left in the SF Tech world. What makes us special? Learn and move on. No one cares. I collected my cup of coffee and, having no reason to stay, I wandered back to the front of the house.

    Iter was sitting at my desk near the front window, looking at the barren trees and old houses glimmering in the deceptive winter sunlight. He had his head propped up on the back of his hands, elbows on the desktop. As I walked into the room, a reflection on the glass momentarily turned the window into a square of blinding light. Iter seemed to grow more intense against that brilliant backdrop, the light flowing off him like his godly raiment, a haloed radiance glowing behind his silvery hair. My breath caught. I felt transported to the Divine realm once again, the god before me, observing all of creation in his infinite estimation. In awe.

    A single step forward, and the vision was gone. In its place, a distracted man in modern clothes, sitting at the window and staring at the sky. Iter turned and looked at me, his expression impassive, a stranger. Then he smiled faintly.

    "We have no desire to partake of that beverage you are drinking, Mai, but We find its aroma most appealing," Iter remarked.

    "It''s coffee," I said, still reeling from the impact of that fleeting vision.

    Iter''s smile deepened and a dimple appeared against that flawless face. "Yes, We know." It was like ice breaking and melting away. "But We have not experienced it firsthand."

    I opened my mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the doorbell ringing for the second time today.

    ? ? ?

    "How are you feeling?" Kris stood in the hallway, in a bulky sweater and slim, torn jeans, a far cry from her usual conservative, professional attire. She gave me a swift once over, apparently relieved by what she saw. She smiled, "You look well."

    "Yeah, feeling much better. A good night''s rest and a shower will do wonders." I smiled back. Then I cocked my head. "What''s up?"

    "Checking in. I wasn''t sure how mobile you''d be. Anything you need done? Have you eaten?" Kris rapid-fired, her eyes wandering around as if she could find the answer to these questions in the faded hallway wallpaper.

    "I''m fine, Kris." I soothed, and led her further in toward the front room. "Come on in. Want some coffee?"

    "Sure," the corners of her mouth drifted upwards, then froze as she saw Iter standing in the center of the room. "Oh, I didn''t know¡­ I mean, I didn''t realize, you, uh, had someone here," Kris faltered, clearly drawing conclusions at Iter''s presence.

    "Iter''s staying with me for a bit. But it''s not what you''re thinking," I continued, chuckling. It was tempting to tease her, but I decided to give her some relief instead. "We''re not together or anything. He''s just helping me out for the time being." Iter looked at me, puzzled. I wasn''t sure what he was about to say, but I forestalled that by escaping. "I''ll get that cup of coffee for you."

    When I returned, both Kris and Iter were sitting on either end of the sofa. Iter was gazing at Kris in mild interest, but Kris was staring straight ahead uncomfortably. I handed Kris and Iter each mugs of coffee, and Kris reached for hers desperately with both hands, like a drowning person grabbing a pole. Iter took his more calmly, though he simply lifted it up to inhale the aroma, before cradling his mug in his lap.

    "Ah, thanks," Kris tried to take a sip, and quickly discovered it was too hot, then settled the mug in her lap as well. Her eyes continued to float about the room, adrift.

    "Thanks for coming by, Kris," I started, sitting down in the lounge chair. But then I suddenly didn''t know where to go next. I realized that though we''d known each other a long time, the last time Kris had been in my place was shortly after I''d moved in. Six years. "It''s good to see you," I offered gently.

    "Yeah, good to see you, too." Her face relaxed, losing some of its rigidity. "Uhm," she said, after a moment, "I came to see if I could help out somehow. But since, uhm, Iter''s here, I''m not sure¡­" She trailed off. Her lips quirked up in a half smile.

    "Yeah, I don''t need any laundry or dishes done, but it''s kind of you, thanks." Taiga sauntered into the room and went over to investigate Kris. She reached down to give the cat a pet on the head, which Taiga avoided. The cat jumped up on the couch between Kris and Iter, and started cleaning her fur. Iter watched the cat curiously.

    When had Kris and I become so distant and awkward around each other, I wondered? After college, we''d been busy, sure, but we''d enjoyed a drink or two now and then. It was probably around the time my dad passed. I''d dove into work, trying to bury conflicting thoughts and emotions. I''d come up with excuses to avoid anything that touched on that nerve, and Kris had been pretty close to it, if only tangentially. We''d stayed friends, of course, but it stretched and thinned over time with every postponed drink or rainchecked meal. I hadn''t realized how close it was to fading away altogether.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The silence was too heavy to bear. Kris had cooled her coffee enough to take a sip, but her presence here gave me courage. I leaned forward.

    "I do need your help, though," I began, not quite sure where I was going. But I felt oddly guilty for being healthy despite Kris''s concern, and needed to respond to her gesture somehow. I spotted the box on the table. "Since, uhm, I''m out of a job at the present, I''ve decided to help a former colleague with bringing her app to market," I began, inspired by who knows what impulse. "I''m familiar with the basics of a business plan, but, well, I guess I could use some help on the finance side."

    Kris looked up at me, eyebrows raised. "You''re starting a business?" Taiga had finished her grooming, and was now curled into a black and orange ball. Her ears twitched from time to time, betraying her monitoring of the room. Iter seemed equally still and watchful.

    "Well, exploring our options is probably the best way to put it. But it sounds promising so far. Would you be able to help us out at all? I know you''re busy," I pulled back a bit, suddenly realizing this could be a big ask.

    "Of course, I''d be happy to help out!" The words seemed to rush from Kris''s mouth, leaving us both a little shocked at her forcefulness. "I mean, uh, yeah, things are starting to slow down for me at work."

    "Really?" I blurted. "Didn''t you say it was end of year planning? I thought you''d be swamped."

    "Yeah, well, that''s true. But I have a good team, and they do most of the work anyway," she chuckled self-deprecatingly. That sounded hollow to my ears, the Kris I knew was meticulous to a fault. I expected she was deeply involved in everything that went on with her team. But I wasn''t going to call her out on something she was obviously putting aside for my sake. I''d simply watch and make sure she didn''t overload herself too much.

    "That would be an enormous help, but I''m doing some discovery first. I probably won''t need anything right away."

    "What''s the product?" she asked, and I regurgitated everything Bushra had told us, leaving out the extortion and fraud aspects.

    "So there are some intellectual property considerations we''ll want to be aware of. And, of course, I''m still figuring out the addressable market so we won''t be competing head-to-head against their strengths. But Bushra''s as smart and talented of a developer as I''ve ever met. There''s something there to build, I''m sure of it." I found my previous doubts growing smaller as I worked to sell Kris on the idea.

    Kris listened intently the whole time, her gaze serious. "Where''s your funding coming from?" Straight to the point. Kris''s accounting persona was in full effect.

    "Well, as I said, I''m going to need some help on the finance side," I rubbed the back of my neck, embarrassed. "Right now our costs are two employees and her cloud services account, but that''s only going to accumulate." I smiled sheepishly. "I was thinking we''d get a proof of concept together, write a business plan, and then see what other funding sources we might go after.

    "I mean, that makes sense at this point," Kris began, nodding slowly. "But don''t discount trying to get your first customers as soon as possible. Money coming in makes money free up all down the line. The faster you turn the idea of your company into a reality in people''s minds, the easier everything becomes."

    "Yeah, that''s if we can get someone to buy it at this stage. I need to test it out first. Everything else comes after I know what we have."

    "Of course," Kris agreed, leaning back. Then a broad grin formed on her features. "It''s been a while since we talked like this."

    "Yeah," I agreed, grinning back.

    "You''re really okay?" she queried. Her eyes searched mine.

    "Yeah, I''m feeling fine, really." I settled back, too. "And Iter''s helping, too, so you don''t need to worry."

    "Iter," Kris half turned in her seat to face Iter over the alert cat between them. "I''m sorry we were ignoring you," she dipped her head.

    "We are quite content to watch how you two get along," he replied. He inclined his head as well, though with more regality. Kris blinked, and looked over at me, and I remembered.

    "Ah, yeah, he said he''s fine," I translated belatedly for Kris. Then back to Iter, "Though I''m sorry as well, Iter. I feel like I''m taking you for granted a lot recently."

    "It is of no consequence. We are here to assist Our Hero. It is Our wish to not intrude." It felt more like talking to an attendant rather than a god, but I didn''t know how or if I should bridge that distance between us. I set it aside for now, and turned back to Kris, "Iter has some strange notions about assisting me, but I guess I''ll simply take advantage of his support for now." I grinned weakly, bemused.

    "I still can''t get over how easily you two communicate. I guess people do change when you least expect it." Kris added with a complicated expression of her own. I felt uncomfortable having that look turned on me, and I heard Iter chuckle. He had his mouth hidden by his cup of coffee when I turned to look at him, but there was most definitely a soft laughter coming from his direction.

    ? ? ?

    Kris took her leave soon afterwards, finishing her cup of coffee and mentioning some errands she had to run. Taiga leaped from her resting spot when Kris stood up, and raced ahead of us to the hallway, nearly getting caught up in our feet as she sped toward the bedroom. When I came back to the front room after saying goodbye, Iter was still sitting on the sofa, frowning in thought.

    "Are you and Kris close?" he asked finally, his brow furrowed slightly.

    "It''s complicated," I sighed. After a moment under his gaze, I elaborated, "We''ve been friends since we were young, but sometimes all that history adds up and weighs you down." It felt like all my tethers had come loose, once I''d left my parents home and finished school. The last thing I wanted was to be confronted with old memories. Kris didn''t press, she never did. She''d always been a worrier, keeping her concerns bottled up. I was typically the one going back to her for forgiveness whenever we''d fought. Maybe she''d been waiting for me all this time. "She''s still the best friend I have, but maybe you don''t always want someone you care about to see all your faults."

    "A Hero should have good companions to rely on," Iter pronounced. I looked at him, the tangent bouncing off my brain. I didn''t feel very heroic. I didn''t have some lofty goal, some heroic mission. I wasn''t going to save the world. I was struggling just to save myself.

    I went to sit down on the sofa next to him, and pulled the box of my personal items in front of me. I took a breath to clear out old regrets, and set my empty coffee mug down. I pulled the box toward me. I may not be a hero. I may be a fool for even considering Bushra''s plan. I stared at the exit paperwork laying on top of the pile. I may only be trying to avoid this bitter reality. I''d have to decide what to do with this soon. But there was something else I wanted to check. I began unpacking the box and laying out its contents in separate piles on the table. Iter watched for a moment, then leaned over next to me.

    "What are you looking for?" he inquired.

    "I''m not sure," I responded truthfully. I had my map up and was watching it closely as I moved each item from the box to the table. Besides the paperwork, there were an insulated metal coffee mug I preferred, a number of little Gundam mecha toys I collected, my headphones, a small Studio Ghibli-themed desk calendar I''d picked up at a craft fair in Japantown, and some random stationary and office supplies, including a stapler for some reason. After I''d removed most of the contents, I directed my attention to one item in particular. On my map, a question mark was hovering over the item resting on the table. It was a small envelope, and inside was an invitation in glossy, heavy cardstock. It was for a networking event in the south bay, in Santa Clara. By some quirk of fate or luck, it was happening this evening.

    It was a customer meet-up, the kind of event you use to source prospects and discover new opportunities in existing accounts. I didn''t recall seeing this particular invite before, but I''d received and attended a few. I''d even presented at similar events sponsored by Complyze. What made this one interesting is that it was hosted by Integrated Hardware Solutions, or IHS, the vendor I''d been accused of extorting. The same company that employed a particular manager who I''d fought with two days prior. A message popped up to the right of my vision:

    Event: Investigate the Accomplice

    Attend the meetup hosted by Integrated Hardware Solutions and probe into the crime.

 Chapter 11: Party to a Crime

    It was 7pm, and I was on my way to the IHS event in Santa Clara. Bushra and Iter we''re both going with me. Bushra was surprised to hear back from me so soon, but was game enough to join us at the event tonight. I figured having another set of eyes and ears might help, and having a group made us harder to pin down. I wasn''t sure if it made sense for Iter to come, but he insisted he wanted to stay close. I didn''t see any reason to refuse.

    I''d dressed in more San Francisco business casual attire, a nice dress blouse and jeans, with a black wool top coat to go over it all. I took a simple black leather backpack purse as well, for easier movement. Iter''s outfit was perfectly suitable as is. I showed him some examples of fashionable outerwear, and he picked out a relatively simple caramel colored mid-length wool coat. Of course, it was fitted perfectly and looked divine on him. Pun intended. He looked more like he was heading to a fashion event, but what the hell. He''d pull attention no matter what he wore.

    The trip south was faster than expected. Traffic on 880 is typically bad in the evenings, even on weekends. But we sailed through without issue in my compact silver Mazda sedan. Maybe this was my Luck was kicking in?

    Iter was intrigued by the experience of riding in a car for the first 10 minutes or so. Then he spent the rest of the trip picking music from my phone to play as I drove. Fun fact: gods apparently enjoy BTS. Well, welcome to the club, I suppose. I wondered idly if this was even the boys first divine fan, given their fairly miraculous rise. I''ll also add that it was a wonderful experience, thanks to Divine Translation, to listen to a song in Korean and understand the lyrics. I should watch a K-Drama or anime this weekend to see what that''s like.

    We met up with Bushra outside the IHS offices. It seems they were hosting the event onsite at their building rather than booking an outside venue. I wondered what kind of draw there would be for this kind of event on a Saturday night, but there seemed to be other people showing up already. The air was brisk and chill for the Bay Area, and I could see my breath against the haze from the street lights. Bushra had opted for the same black shirt, but with dark slacks to match, and a stylish double-breasted peacoat. We joined the small stream of people making their way inside.

    "So we''re here to find evidence of a scam or blackmail?" Bushra whispered to me as we passed through the main lobby, following the event signs to the elevator. IHS owned the building, it seemed, but rented out all but the top 2 floors to other tenants.

    "We''re unlikely to find anything so obvious. I''m hoping we can learn more about their relationship with our company, specifically any individuals that seem to have close connections." Despite working with this vendor, I''d never actually been here. Their representatives usually showed up at our offices for meetings, or one time we went to a small manufacturing site for a tour. Large orders were fulfilled via overseas partners for the most part, but small proof of concepts and custom orders were apparently designed and made locally. But this was their corporate headquarters, mostly sales, marketing, and design, I gathered.

    We entered the elevator with two other men chatting quietly with each other, then we all exited into the office reception. Our group held back, letting the others check in first.

    "Okay," Bushra looked uncomfortable. "So what do we do? I''ve never been to one of these before." I was a little surprised, but then recalled Bushra was only a short time out of college.

    "You''ve been to academic mixers and such before, right?" She nodded, intent on my words. "No real difference, except they sign you in with your business card or company email to add you to their marketing database."

    Her expression still held misgivings. "Is it all right to use our previous Complyze email addresses?" Bushra asked warily.

    "Should be fine. No one here likely knows us or what happened. News travels fast in the Tech community, but not that fast." I turned to Iter, "I''ll sign you in as Ignaz Strauss." That was the name of one of our colleagues on the European team. "Bushra, let''s keep up the pretense of Iter being unable to speak English. He may overhear things people wouldn''t let slip otherwise. Iter, feel free to avoid any conversation due to the language barrier." He nodded genially. There was an outside chance there were Swiss people or polyglots here, so that lie was risky. But we could always say he was from somewhere else.

    As we approached where the check-in was taking place, I quickly brought up my status and concentrated on the Follow the Leader skill, and chose to boost Charm. I could sense it activate, and saw my Focus shift to Focus: 67 [max 68] (+). Good, it was working. To be sure, I thought about Bushra, and saw her stats were now as follows:

    Name: Bushra Patel

    Race: Human

    Class: Software Engineer

    Level: 1

    Condition: Enhanced (Follow the Leader)

    Disposition: Friendly

    Core Attributes

    Body: 40

    Spirit: 30

    Mind: 75

    Luck: 10

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 40

    Magic: 0 [max 30]

    Focus: 75

    Charm: 43 (+)

    Intuition: 57

    Will: 52

    Fate: ???

    Skills

    Divine Translation (Party), Inventory (Party)

    Perfect. Because I was watching closely, I saw Bushra make a slight puzzled frown after signing in. Then she shrugged it off and moved to the side so I could sign in Iter and myself. The event staff quickly printed out name tags for us, and we put them on. Then we followed the signs to find where the event was being held within.

    This floor of the IHS offices were still well lit, and mirrored the open floor plan and colorful palette of most SF Bay Area tech companies. As we walked past the kitchen/break area of this floor, I looked and noted that the drinks and snacks for employees were nearly identical to those found in Complyze. Even the automatic coffee machine was the same. Both companies likely used the same supplier ¨C not at all an uncommon circumstance, reflecting the copycat nature so common in Silicon Valley.

    I was a little taken aback by how accessible the space was. At Complyze, we had to badge in at every floor and would not have been allowed to wander free like this. In fact, Complyze had a space on the first floor entirely separate from the physical and networked parts of the rest of the building for events like this. Our Executive Briefing Room, which is where most outside groups would be brought to. Granted, Complyze is a software company with an emphasis on compliance and security. IHS likely had secure facilities for its hardware designs and other sensitive information, but this office could be limited to other functions with less IP risk.

    We moved to a larger open space converted from a lunch area, with chairs set up in front of a pair of large screens and a small raised platform for the presenters. To our left were some tables with presentation materials, laptops, and various marketing banners. Looks like IHS were able to bring in some additional sponsors for the evening. There were some sales and marketing folks talking with each other idly behind the tables, but their real work would likely start after the presentations were finished. Off to the right were windows where you could see the lights from the Dumbarton bridge, some standing tables draped with black tablecloths, and the obvious highlight of the event, a rented bar.

    "Why don''t the two of you get some drinks and mingle with the group. I need to find the restroom first." The crowd was still a little sparse, but it was early. I assumed Iter wouldn''t drink anything, but having something in his hand to carry around wouldn''t hurt.

    "Wait, what should I do?" Bushra latched onto my sleeve, her smile fixed in place. I could tell she wanted to follow, but I couldn''t have her along for what I planned.

    "I''ll be right back," I soothed. "I think that you should chat up the sales engineers. If you mention your job at Complyze, you could learn if they know anything special about the relationship. Ask leading questions and see what they say," I suggested.

    "Okay, yeah. Yeah, I can do that." Bushra bobbed her head, focused inward. She let go of my arm, and walked off towards the line for the bar. Iter looked over at me, uncertain, and I tilted my head subtly in Bushra''s direction. He nodded, and followed after her.

    The half-baked plan I''d come up with on the way over was to have the two of them draw attention. Iter could pull focus by his presence alone, and I knew Bushra was intelligent and technical enough to keep the engineers here engaged. If Bushra was lucky, she''d learn exactly what I''d asked her to. But I had another objective, and it would be easier to handle alone.

    When we''d arrived, I''d quickly pulled up Location to see if there were any additional markers. There were ¨C three little question marks dotted my map. I planned to slip out and do a little investigating of my own.

    ? ? ?

    Two of the items were on this floor, almost on top of each other. I figured that would be the best place to start. The third was on the top floor. I felt bad about lying to Bushra and Iter, but explaining how I knew where to look would be impossible without going into heroes and gods in front of Bushra. So I opted for the easier lie. They would understand. I hoped.

    I walked over to one of the event staff near the door, and politely asked where the closest restrooms were. He directed me back towards the elevator lobby, and I headed off in that direction. While I walked, I brought up Location. I could see the folks in the event space, as well as a few more clustered in reception, and sparsely scattered through other parts of the floor. Fortunately, none were around the location of the first two markers, in a small alcove and the west end of the building.

    It was almost disappointingly simple to navigate my way there while avoiding any blue dots using Location. I castigated myself the whole way ¨C I''d been so against doing anything that made me seem like the thief they portrayed me to be. Now here I was, literally trespassing in another company''s offices to dig through their things. What a hypocrite. Maybe I should''ve picked the rogue skills right from the start. I had to keep myself from looking around and crouching down as I made my way along the interior wall.

    When I found the space the marker indicated, it looked like a cross between a printer/copying station and office supply storage. Boxes of pens, paperclips, and notepads lined the shelves. Next to the larger copier was something that looked like an oversized waste paper container, with a slot in the top to drop papers in. It was a shredding service repository ¨C if you had any printed items that were sensitive that you didn''t need anymore, you could drop it in this container, and a shredding service would pick up the contents and shred them for you, usually onsite. The markers were both right on top of the repository, practically overlapping. And of course, it was padlocked.

    I thought about it for a moment, wondering how to circumvent this obstacle. Without the key to remove that padlock, it was going to be difficult. Could I break it somehow? Or maybe I could dismantle the container or the latch with a screwdriver, get in that way. I looked around swiftly, but saw no convenient key or screwdriver in view. I licked my lips and thought quickly. What could I use? I opened my inventory to see if there was any convenient item or tool I could select, but all I saw was:

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Equipped:

    Dress blouse [Upper Body] (capacity: 1, empty)

    Blue jeans [Lower Body] (capacity: 4, empty)

    Backpack (capacity: variable, 14 in use)

    >Front pocket (capacity: variable, 5 in use)

    >>Eye liner

    >>Lip balm

    >>Receipt

    >>Ballpoint pen

    >>Headphones

    >Main compartment (capacity: variable, 9 in use)

    >>Phone

    >>Wallet (capacity: 7, 7 in use)

    >>>Money pouch: $43

    >>>Card holder 1: Drivers license

    >>>Card holder 2: Credit card

    >>>Card holder 3: Credit card

    >>>Card holder 4: Debit card

    >>>Card holder 5: insurance card

    >>>Coin pouch: $2.83

    >>Power/data cable

    >>Mints (capacity: variable , 14 in use)

    >>>14 mints

    >>Nail clipper

    >>Lipstick

    >>Compact mirror

    >>Hair brush

    >>3 Paper napkins

    Dress boots [Feet]

    Overcoat [Outerwear] (capacity: 3, 1 in use)

    >Right front pocket: Keys

    Woah, it looked like a lot of stuff listed out like that. But nothing seemed useful at first glance. My keys maybe? Growing anxious at the time this was taking, I quickly scanned the shelves of office supplies for anything I could try. On the third shelf I saw some heavy duty paper clips ¨C maybe I could fashion one of those into a screwdriver or try to pick the lock? I reached up, and the box disappeared. At the same time, I felt a weight in my coat pocket.

    I blinked. I could see my inventory screen where I''d left it open, but the list had changed slightly.

    Overcoat [Outerwear] (capacity: 3, 2 in use)

    >Right front pocket: Keys

    >Left front pocket: Box of paperclips

    I put my hand into my coat pocket, and pulled out the small box. It was the same as the other boxes on the shelf I had been reaching for. I thought about putting the box back, and it disappeared from my hand and my inventory list, at the same time it reappeared on the shelf above me.

    No magic my ass. This was some fantasy-level shit. I thought for a moment, then closed my inventory screen and reached for the paperclips again. Nothing. I opened my inventory, and merely thought about moving the box to my pocket. It happened instantaneously. Damn.

    Well, this was really fucking cool, but I still needed to get in that shredding container. I examined the paperclips. Or did I? I put the paper clips back with a thought, then focused on getting the items with the question markers from the container. I didn''t feel anything change, but my inventory list suddenly had two additional items on the list:

    Overcoat [Outerwear] (capacity: 3, 2 in use)

    >Right front pocket: Keys

    >Left front pocket: Papers

    I reached into my pocket and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. They''d been folded together, so the one ended up inside the other. Unfolding them, I saw a printed copy of the invoice I was shown by Ben. My name was on it as the approver, with Bruce Paap as the submitter. I suddenly recalled the name. It was the name of the same manager who confronted me on the day I was fired. I pulled out the other piece of paper from underneath. This was a similar invoice, but the amount was over 10 times that of the first invoice. The submitter was the same, but the approver on the second invoice was Jon Hu.

    I folded the papers and put them back in my pocket. I wasn''t sure what help they would be, but I put that matter aside for later. I double-checked Location, and the two question marks I''d seen previously near this location were now gone. There was only one more marker to take a look at.

    Getting back to the elevator was as easy as getting in. I used Location to avoid people until I made it to the break room, then I retraced my steps back through reception and the elevator lobby. I was feeling a little overcautious, so I took the elevator back down to the first floor, then called for it again to go up to the top. I didn''t want to be seen going from the event to the new floor after hours. As the elevator traveled interminably toward the top floor, I bit my lip and thought again how supremely stupid this was. But the papers in my pocket pulled me onward.

    The top floor was dimly lit. It seemed IHS had this whole floor to themselves as well, as there were just two doors on either side of the elevator lobby, with no additional logos or markings. The door to the right was propped open.

    I''d been wondering what I''d do if I couldn''t get in, but this was quite a bit of luck. I quickly opened Location to see who else was here. I saw two blue dots, moving slowly over on the east side of the floor. The marker was on the south side of the floor, opposite from the door I was at. No other indicators appeared.

    I made my way to the west and around to avoid any contact. I tried to walk normally, to act as if I belonged here. Maybe if someone happened to see me they''d not be suspicious. I hoped they couldn''t hear the pounding of my heart above the faint sounds of the fans from the building''s HVAC system. By comparing the layout to my Location map, I figured that the marker was within some frosted glass-walled rooms on the exterior ¨C offices, I guessed. I moved to the one indicated and looked inside.

    It was dark, but I could see a well appointed office through the unfrosted sections of the door, not overly spacious, but certainly a cut above the open half-height cubicles that littered the rest of the floor. There was an expensive-looking ergonomic office chair, and a set of shelves against the interior wall with photos and awards. There was even room enough for a small cloth-upholstered loveseat and chairs arranged around a low glass coffee table, with some used plates, napkins and a few half-finished coffee cups on it. Behind that, was a medium sized but still impressive wooden desk with a monitor, some disconnected cables and a thin stack of folders on top.

    The map indicator was over the folders on top of the desk. I tried the glass door, but it was locked. Feeling confident, I opened my inventory and thought about getting the item marked on the map.

    Nothing. Confused, I tried again. Still nothing. I checked my journal to see if there was a failure message or similar to tell me what was wrong. There wasn''t. I switched back to inventory, and thought more carefully about grabbing the pile of folders I could barely make out. Nothing at all.

    Flummoxed by the difference between this situation and the one downstairs, I stopped and thought for a moment. It wasn''t because of line of sight ¨C if anything, I had a better view of these folders than the papers in the shredding container. Maybe it was a distance issue?

    I looked around for something to test that with, and saw a stapler on a cubicle desk a row away. I concentrated, and the stapler was in my pocket. Well, that worked. I tried putting it back. No problem. So distance didn''t seem to be an issue, at least in this case. I''d have to test to see if there were any limitations to distance at some point ¨C this could really be a broken ability if not. But first things first.

    Maybe it was because the office was closed? I certainly couldn''t walk in and pick it up normally. But the shredding container was locked, too. I considered for a moment, standing quietly in the dim light of the office floor. Thinking back, the shredding container had a reasonably wide opening, though, a deposit slot. Technically I could probably have reached my arm in there, as it was large enough. But the papers were mixed in somewhere near the bottom, and I hadn''t seriously considered trying to reach in. But thinking of the stapler I''d just grabbed from 20+ feet away, maybe that was enough.

    I was standing there wondering what to do or test next, or whether I should just give it up and head back, when I heard a muted rumbling sound moving in this direction. I quickly ducked down behind a nearby cubicle and took a peek.

    It was a janitor, pushing a cleaning supplies cart down the walkway along the wall, coming in this direction. Then they turned down one of the rows and began slowly pushing the cart along the row of offices and peering inside each one. I pulled my head back behind the cubicle wall, and scanned the room for escape routes if they came this way. I tried to breathe as quietly as possible as they moved closer and closer to where I was hiding.

    I heard the cart stop. It sounded like they were right next to me, on the other side of the desk. I held my breath, my pulse pounding in my ears, wondering if I''d been spotted. Then I heard what sounded like the metal jingling, then the sound of a deadbolt sliding out of place. The cart jangled as it moved. I nervously checked Location, and it looked like the blue marker had moved into the office I had been targeting.

    I took a cautious peek, and saw an older woman in a gray janitorial uniform moving around the coffee table and picking up the coffee cups and plates. I let my breath out slowly, relieved. Then I realized the door was open!

    Taking a chance, I opened my inventory again and tried to visualize getting the items with the map marker on it and putting them in my coat pocket. My coat was suddenly stuffed with what felt like a roll of paper.

    Not daring to take it out to look, I opened Location and saw the marker had disappeared. In my inventory, there was am updated entry:

    Overcoat [Outerwear] (capacity: 3, 2 in use)

    >Right front pocket: keys

    >Left front pocket: Invoices, papers

    Interesting that the invoices were now identified that way, now that I knew what they were. But it seemed I now had more papers in my possession.

    The janitor finished picking up the trash in the office, then exited with the cart and re-locked the door. I stayed as still as possible in my hiding place and waited for the cart to finish its round of office checks. When they unlocked and entered another office, I used that opportunity to quickly make my way back to the exit.

    Breathing a quick sigh of relief once I made it to the elevator lobby, I took out the new set of papers from my pocket. It looked like some kind of contract or agreement. I couldn''t make out what the contract was for at a quick glance, so I folded it in half to better fit it in my pocket. I''d look at it later. For now, I wanted to get back to Bushra and Iter. I pushed the elevator call button, and then had a thought. I opened my party screen and took a look at Bushra''s stats. She was still boosted by Follow the Leader, and her condition was Normal. I wondered if there was anything else I could learn or interact with in this section. Inventory had seemed unexpectedly useful, though I still felt a bit uneasy about how applicable all of this seemed to be for thievery. Upon thinking of inventory, however, the display suddenly changed. But I realized it wasn''t my normal inventory I was seeing:

    Party member: Bushra Patel

    Equipped:

    Dress blouse [Upper Body]

    Dress slacks [Lower Body] (capacity: 2, empty)

    Dress boots [Feet]

    Peacoat [Outerwear] (capacity: 4, 1 in use)

    >Right front pocket: Phone

    Handbag (capacity: variable, 14 in use)

    >Front pocket (capacity: variable, 3 in use)

    >>Tissue packet (capacity: 24, 24 in use)

    >>Eye liner

    >>Keys

    >Interior pocket (capacity: variable, 7 in use)

    >>Wallet (capacity: 10, 10 in use)

    >>>Large pocket: $127 dollars

    >>>Card holder 1: Drivers license

    >>>Card holder 2: US permanent resident card

    >>>Card holder 3: Credit card

    >>>Card holder 4: Debit card

    ¡­

    This is¡­ Bushra''s inventory? The clothes and bag descriptions, while vague, seemed to match what I''d remembered. I was just getting over the shock of seeing this new screen, when the elevator door opened. Standing inside was a middle aged man in a security uniform. In stark contrast to my shock, he seemed unsurprised to see me, his eyes cold and his mouth set in a firm line.

    "Hello Ma''am. Can I ask what your business is here?"

 Chapter 12: A Lack of Focus

    "Uh, hi, " I responded inanely, rapidly trying to think of a reasonable explanation. The security guard stared at me, impassive and hard. Using the bathroom on a completely different floor was unlikely to work. "I came up here to see if my friend was still around. I didn''t see them downstairs," I lied, trying out a friendly and hapless smile.

    The security guard held a hand up and walked forward, smoothly exiting the elevator and maneuvering me backward into the elevator lobby. He eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then put a hand onto a radio hanging off his shoulder.

    "Can you give me the name of this person?" He asked.

    "Bruce. Bruce Paap." I gave the first IHS employee name I could think of.

    The guard activated his radio and said, "Gunil, do we have a Bruce Paap employed in IHS?"

    I sweated for a moment, while we both waited for an answer.

    The voice came back over the radio, "Yeah, looks like that''s a recent term. They''re on the Do Not Enter list. Is that him up there?" Shit, Bruce was fired. He was definitely upset when I saw him last. Maybe this was why?

    "Thanks Gunil, I''m checking it out," he replied, not taking his eyes off me. "Can I see your ID, ma''am?"

    "Sure," I swung down my bag reached in to pull out my wallet. I got out my ID and handed it over. This was not going well, but maybe I could still talk my way out. I couldn''t see any other options to get me out of this mess.

    The guard looked at my ID, and spoke into his radio again, "Can you check on a ''Mairead Carrigan''?" Surprisingly, he pronounced them both correctly on the first try. He spelled out both names to his partner, then let go of the button on the radio, "What company are you with, Ms. Carrigan?"

    "Complyze," I replied, and he relayed that to his colleague. He made no effort to return my ID, so I slung my bag strap over my shoulder. "Uhm, did I hear him say Bruce was let go? I was supposed to meet up with him at the event tonight." I tried to balance my voice with equal parts question and concern.

    He watched me dispassionately. "What kind of business were you both planning?"

    "Oh, it wasn''t business. At least not directly," I lied. "It was a social call. He did some work for us a while back, and I wanted to stay connected." I tried to look only mildly distressed, which was an effort given how my brain was screaming at me. "Fired, though? He never said."

    The guard said nothing in response, simply waited there. It was so tense, I''d left the inventory screen up, and was trying not to look away or do anything suspicious. As I was thinking of what to do next, the radio sounded.

    "Yeah, no ''Mairead Carrigan''."

    "Thanks," he replied, then changed his stance slightly, and motioned me over to a side table between the two elevators. "Ma''am, we have you entering the offices on this floor, unescorted and after hours, on our surveillance cameras." Crap, I can''t believe I completely forgot about security cameras. Apparently, they don''t show up on my Map. "If you''re here with innocent intentions, I apologize for the inconvenience. But I''m going to have to ask you to empty out your pockets and submit your bag for inspection."

    "What do you mean?" I blurted out. This was not good.

    "If you''re here for why you said you were, we can resolve this pretty quickly. Otherwise, I''m going to have to ask you to come with me down to the security office." He seemed calm, but there was a tenseness about him that indicated his seriousness.

    Well, I''m fucked. With incriminating papers in my pockets, I was sure to be discovered. I moved over to the table and slowly started reaching in and checking each of the empty pockets of my jeans one at a time, mind racing for an exit all the while. I wondered if I could simply use the inventory screen to move the papers from one pocket to the next, if that would work. Or to my bag and back. I focused on a place at random and willed the papers to move there. I felt them disappear from my coat pocket, the volume of the pocket deflating slightly. I finished ''emptying'' my other pockets, and put my hands in my coat pockets. Nothing there but my keys. I set those on the table, then slipped off my backpack off my shoulder and put it down next to them, and stepped away indicating that was all. In the back of my mind, I wondered where the papers were. I quickly scanned the inventory screen, but couldn''t find them. Shit.

    "Please lift your arms while I inspect your person to verify your compliance." I refocused on the guard as he put on some purple latex gloves, and swiftly moved in to give me a pat down. He''ll find the papers where they''re still on me, even if I don''t know where. I gulped, trying to scan and find them quickly, and hopefully swap them while he wasn''t paying attention. But the guard moved in and finished his pat down efficiently, and stepped away. He asked me to step back from the table, and took a look through my belongings. For some reason, everything seemed jumbled and out of place on my inventory screen, so it took me the whole time the guard was searching my things to find the papers. They were in ''handbag''. I focused back on the guard, who was peering with a penlight into the large compartment of my bag, and shifting things around with a gloved hand.

    Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

    The guard then set the bag aside, turned off the penlight, and then picked up and held out my phone. "Can you unlock your phone and show me?"

    "Uh, what?" I responded in a daze. What about the papers?

    "I need to verify you don''t have any intellectual property, ma''am. Please unlock your phone."

    "Yeah¡­sure," It was a fairly uncomfortable feeling, like being asked to undress. But I could tell the alternative was going to be less pleasant. And my phone was, in this case, the least incriminating thing I had on me. Where had the papers gone? I fumbled with my pin code on the cracked screen and handed the phone back, but the guard didn''t take it.

    "Can you show me your photos, ma''am?" he said instead.

    I walked through and showed different areas of my phone, recent photos, messages, and email as the guard directed, pausing and scrolling when asked. Then he asked me to scroll through the various applications I had within my phone. All the while, I was trying to figure out where those papers went. I looked back over the inventory screen where I saw them listed, then started working my way up the list. I finally realized what I was seeing. This was Bushra''s inventory. The papers were listed as being in her bag. What the fuck?!

    Apparently all of this satisfied the security guard, and he ultimately returned my ID and said I could pick up my stuff. He called down to his colleague on his radio and moved away. I finished putting my stuff back, and the guard thanked me for my patience. He apologized indifferently for the inconvenience, and escorted me back to the lower floor where the event was held. I tried to ask a question or two about Bruce on the way, but he demurred, telling me to direct my questions to HR on Monday. I left the elevator, and he stayed inside, continuing on down.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ? ? ?

    I made my way back to the event, which had already moved to the post-presentation socializing. I was glad I had my coat on, as I felt like my blouse was drenched in sweat. Before I rejoined the group, I reopened Bushra''s inventory screen, and willed the papers I''d collected back into my coat pocket. They re-appeared with bewildering ease. This was incredible. I felt the onset of a huge headache coming on as I considered the unreality of what had occurred, and what I''d just done.

    I wobbled a little as I walked over to where I saw Bushra and Iter standing. Iter saw me first, his eyes landing on me in obvious relief. I felt somewhat lightheaded as I casually waved in their direction.

    "Where''ve you been!" Bushra demanded as I pulled up alongside them both. Her gaze was a strange mixture of accusing and elated. "You missed how amazing I was!"

    I looked to Iter for clarification, and he nodded serenely. "Ms. Patel has been quite skillful."

    What?

    "That''s right, I led them right where I wanted them!" The difference between her behavior before I left and now was striking. But for now, I gratefully leaned into her retelling. The adrenaline must''ve worn off, as I was feeling absolutely wiped. The din of conversation and music playing in the background was overwhelming, and I wondered if there was anywhere we could sit.

    "Oh, and you''ll never guess what we learned!" Bushra''s eyes were bright, but her voice faded into a quiet whisper. Iter was looking at me with what looked like concern on his face, but I let it go to focus on Bushra. "Rumor is that IHS may be acquired by Complyze. The sales engineers were trying to pump me for info about comp plans and the like."

    "Acquired?" I repeated. That didn''t make much sense. Complyze was a SaaS company, selling software as a subscription service. IHS was a hardware design and integrator. Sure, we worked with them on usb keys and similar custom devices for compatibility, but an acquisition? My head started to throb as I tried to make some kind of connection between this news and what I knew so far.

    "That''s what they said, anyway," Bushra responded, a little rankled by my tone. "It was just a rumor, but they seemed to believe it." She paused, then picked up her prior jubilance. "I don''t know why, but I feel On tonight! I hardly sipped at my drink, but I feel great!" As if to demonstrate, she wiggled her glass of wine at me, then took a gulp.

    It was getting harder to focus, and my head was pounding now. I put a hand to my forehead, and it came back damp with sweat. This wasn''t an adrenaline hangover. I could hear my heartbeat thudding in my ears, and my face was flushed and hot. "I need some air," I said, and swayed, experiencing a touch of vertigo. This wasn''t good. I made an about-face turn and started heading for the elevator. My vision was going blurry, and I could barely retrace my steps without stumbling.

    "Mai, what''s wrong?" Iter came up to me, but I shook my head and kept walking forward, determined. My eyes were locked on the route to the elevator, my entire being concentrated on every step.

    "Hey, what''s with that reaction?" Bushra had caught up on my other side, her expression indignant. Then she peered at my face closer. "You''re really pale. Are you okay?"

    I somehow made it to an open elevator and leaned inside. One of the other two must have pressed a button, since I felt it start to move, but my eyes were closed. I concentrated on breathing. My heart was pounding double time. I couldn''t get enough air. What was happening to me?

    The elevator took an interminable amount of time to stop and open its doors. I tried to open my eyes, but it was all I could handle to lurch forward. I could feel someone''s hand on my arm, pulling me out. I leaned into it, accepting it''s guidance. I felt a cold draft on my face that felt oh so good and then suddenly the floor tipped and I heard a woman''s voice cry out andIwasfalling¡­

    ? ? ?

    I woke up staring up at the face of a god for the second time in as many days. If this was going to become a thing, I was all for it. Iter smiled gently at me and I could feel his hand stroking the top of my head. Then I remembered IHS, the event, and passing out.

    I turned my head and looked about. I was in the elevator lobby on the ground floor of the IHS building. I seemed to be on a bench by the wall. My head was resting on something warm and soft¡­

    I sat up, too quickly. Iter narrowly avoided my head as he leaned back. My head throbbed in answering pain, but I gritted my teeth through it. I turned to look at Iter sitting next to me, the owner of the lap I''d been taking advantage of. At the moment, no one else was nearby.

    "Where''s Bushra," I asked, wincing at my headache.

    "She went to get some wet towels, she''ll be back in a moment." He continued to smile and speak softly, watching my face. He seemed attuned to how I was feeling, but strangely unconcerned.

    "What happened?" I breathed. What I remembered was fuzzy since leaving the IHS offices, but it looks like I was safe at the moment.

    "You fainted after using up all your Focus," he answered. The corners of his mouth dipped slightly in sadness as he peered at my face. "You should be steadily improving, but how do you feel?"

    "Honestly, like a truck hit me¡­ again." But he was right, I could feel myself recovering minute by minute. Must be my buddy Still Mind at work. "Using up my Focus?" I queried. "How?"

    "We believe you activated a skill, presumably Follow the Leader. It continued to consume Focus until your reservoir dropped almost to zero." He looked at me for confirmation.

    "Ah, I forgot." I confirmed sheepishly. Follow the Leader. I turned it on when we signed in, then never turned it off. I checked my journal and saw a bunch of messages gradually describing the exhaustion of my Focus and subsequent lack of consciousness.

    "You would do well to remember this in the future. Such a lapse could cause great harm at the wrong moment," he lectured. I endured it with chagrin. Yeah, this could''ve been a serious problem in front of people. Or behind the wheel. I shuddered.

    "I''m lucky you both were here," I said, dipping my head. "Thank you."

    Iter accepted my gratitude with a regal nod, then looked at me seriously. "You owe Ms. Patel an apology as well. She was in quite the state. We believe she thinks it is related to your accident," Iter motioned her head forward, and I turned and saw Bushra hurrying over, wet paper towels in hand and obvious relief on her face.

    "Mai, are you okay?" Bushra called out as she came close. She sat down next to me, and unexpectedly pressed the wet paper towels against my forehead and neck. Her eyes darted all around me, looking for evidence of damage or injury.

    "Yes, I''m alright, thanks to you both," I reached up to take the paper towels out of her hands and held them against the back of my neck. "I''m really sorry for worrying you like this," I began.

    Bushra interrupted, leaning back on her heels. "No, I should be the one apologizing, Mai. I knew you''d just come back from the hospital. I should have known you weren''t wholly recovered." She looked down and away, and I could see her eyes were wet. "I''m sorry I rushed you into this," she waved one of her hands around, while pressing the side of her hand under her eyes to avoid smearing her makeup.

    Woah. A wave of guilt came over me. I was perfectly fine, but there''s no way I could tell her that.

    "No, it''s not your fault," I pleaded. "I''m entirely to blame. I asked you here, didn''t I?" I made negating gestures with my hands, trying to wave away our mutual feelings of guilt. "I''m okay, I just didn''t realize my own limits. I''m fine," I coaxed.

    Bushra looked at me, blinking. Then her head dropped and her shoulders started to quake a little. After a moment she looked up with a giant grin and let out a relieved laugh. "You look like hell," she chuckled. Then ruefully, "I guess I don''t look much better." She pulled a tissue out of her bag and began to blot her eyes.

    I was quiet, trying to recover my balance. My eyes darted around for somewhere to look while Bushra put herself back together. I folded up the damp paper towels in my hands and looked for somewhere to put them, before simply holding them in my lap. Iter sat primly to the side, not interrupting. He seemed to watch us intently with a measured gaze. I wondered what he was looking for?

    "So," Bushra finally broke the silence, slowly standing up and looking down at me. "You''re sure you don''t need to go back to the hospital? They said our insurance is good ''til the end of the month," she joked with a crooked grin.

    "I''m okay. I just needed to rest." I shook my head, and was gratified that it no longer felt like my brain was rattling around in my skull when I did. "I could go for something to drink, though. Non-alcoholic," I added with a wan smile, but made sure to put some energy into my voice as reassurance. I stood up and Iter followed suit. My stomach took that moment to let out a gurgle. "Food sounds good, too," I added, embarrassed.

    Bushra smiled wide, and stepped backwards to look at us both straight on. "Then it''s my turn to take you out!" She struck a thoughtful pose, then raised an eyebrow and smirked at us both. "How do you like izakaya?"

    "Fucking love ''em," I grinned back.

 Chapter 13: Meaningful Choices

    Bushra insisted on driving us, and I didn''t put up too much of a fight. Passing out had shaken me up. Even though I could see my Focus slowly climbing in my status, I felt it was the smart play to take it easy. People were starting to stream out from the event upstairs by the time we made our exit. I was extremely conscious of the papers in my pocket the whole time we were there, and kept expecting the security guard to appear again.

    I sat in the back during the trip, while Iter and Bushra chatted softly up front. I leaned back and closed my eyes, feeling the mental exhaustion fade away. After a moment, my curiosity exceed my tiredness, and I tried to listen to what they were talking about. But it was disappointingly mundane, as Bushra pointed out different parts of the area she was familiar with to Iter, who mostly responded with one or two words of acknowledgement from time to time. I opened my eyes, and saw Bushra looking at me in the rearview window with concern. I shifted upright and put on a small smile to put her mind at ease. She turned away to glance at Iter, but I caught her looking at me a couple more times while we made our way to the restaurant.

    Bushra''s izakaya was fairly close by, but it took a while to park. It was called Nobuya, and it shared a strip mall parking lot with a couple of other bars and restaurants. Fortunately, we were able to find a table for the three of us almost immediately after we arrived. If this was the power of Luck, I''d consider pouring all my attribute points there in the future. The smell of charcoal and sizzle of grilled meat permeated the din of the busy bar/restaurant. Bushra checked in with us, then ordered us a bunch of different skewers of meats, mushrooms and vegetables, with sides of edamame, gyoza, and some grilled onigiri to share. We all stuck with water to drink, though I wasn''t sure what Iter was going to do with his. My appetite had returned with a vengeance once my Focus pool was restored, and I was looking forward to the food.

    When the server left, I took the opportunity to take out the papers I''d found and pass them across the table.

    "I found these upstairs at IHS."

    "Oh my God, Mai," Bushra looked at the papers, then looked at me incredulously. "Is that what you were doing?" She threw an exasperated frown in my direction. "I thought you were taking a break somewhere because you weren''t feeling well."

    "Honestly, I''m fine," I started, then saw her expression grow ominous, "well, I might have overdone it a little." I went on quickly to forestall further scolding. "I didn''t have time to look closely, but this one looks like the invoice they showed me in the, uhm, exit interview," I pointed to the one with my name on it, "and this one has Jon''s name on it ¨C look at the amounts."

    "Wow," She breathed. "If Jon was running the scheme you were accused of, he was getting a much bigger payout." The frost in Bushra''s voice was chilling. "What''s this other one?"

    "I hadn''t had a chance to read it closely, but it seems like some kind of contract between IHS and Complyze. Maybe it''s related to the things you were hearing from the sales engineers you talked to?" I took a couple of the top pages and took a close look while Bushra looked through the rest. It seemed like a multi-faceted partnership agreement at first glance. There were clauses about volume discounting, guaranteed minimums, distribution, and support. But the volumes were pretty outrageous. I handed back the sheets I looked at, and picked up the remaining packet. I saw standard terms about supplier agreements, essential personnel, and intellectual property, but in the payment terms were batches of private stock purchases at scheduled intervals. What the hell? Was Complyze really buying them out? Why?

    "How did you find these?" Bushra asked, bewildered.

    "I heard some folks upstairs mention Complyze, so I followed after and found these in the mailroom." I extemporized. "They must have been planning to shred them. A stroke of luck, right?" I kept my face directed at the papers, avoiding Bushra''s eyes. I checked, and the agreement hadn''t yet been signed, or at least, this copy hadn''t.

    The waiter arrived with our food, conveniently interrupting Bushra''s line of questioning. It smelled amazing, and Bushra and I started pulling skewers onto our plates and digging in. Iter watched on, making no move to interact with either the food or the papers.

    "Well, as interesting as it seems, I''m not sure how any of it helps us," Bushra said between bites.

    "Yeah," I agreed, then added "Though now we know Jon is in deeper than we thought. He wasn''t only blackmailing you, it seems he was involved in the theft part as well." I paused. "And we know that this deal is big enough to involve the executive leadership and the board. You don''t enter into partnerships like this, whether a straight up acquisition or not, without board approval." I thought for a moment as I chewed on a pork belly skewer. It was absolutely delicious. "But the two don''t have to be directly related. The other execs and the board could know nothing about the blackmail and theft."

    "Thorsten is in on it, too" Bushra accentuated with a stab of her skewer. "He lied." Her eyes burned with remembered anger and shame.

    "Yeah," I nodded. "And Thorsten is an officer of the company, so he''s in a position to influence things at the board level." I wondered about Ben. In my memory he was all sneers and malice, but I admit my rage may be coloring my perceptions. "Still doesn''t explain why they framed me, though. I''m not directly connected to Jon, Thorsten, or the deal." I looked over at Iter, and he seemed to be watching me closely. I wondered what he thought of all this. Human frailty, greed, and malice. Did gods lie to each other? "I was a point of contact for IHS, I wonder if that''s enough?" If they needed someone to be the fall guy for the theft, I was a convenient person to pin it on. Was it that simple?

    "Should we confront Jon? Shove these in his face, and see how he reacts?" Bushra offered. It might shake some things loose. But it also might bring down action we aren''t prepared for.

    "Maybe," I responded noncommittally. I wasn''t sure about kicking the hornets'' nest before we knew how big it was. But we were going to have to decide soon. "We have some axes hanging over our heads with that exit paperwork. If we sign it, it''s as good as an admission of guilt. But if we don''t, they may feel pressured to cover themselves. It may be worth letting them know some of what we have so they don''t go to the police." I bit into one of the charcoal grilled onigiri, and was immediately distracted by the sweet and smoky flavors. The rice was so soft and crunchy at the same time, and the charcoal smoke perfectly complemented the soy sauce-based glaze on the outside. I don''t get to Santa Clara that often, but I had to remember this place. The food was simply amazing.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Bushra went silent for a moment, hand paused holding a skewer of grilled vegetables and tofu. She finally looked across the table at me with a scrunched up face. "Are you going to sign the agreement?"

    I''d been avoiding thinking about it, to be honest. It was the easy option, but it wasn''t without significant cost. With what amounted to a signed confession in their hands, we were completely at their mercy. Which was likely their intent. But there was no reason it would have to go past that ¨C simple insurance to ensure good behavior. A unique kind of Non Disclosure Agreement, in familiar terms.

    Ben''s contemptuous gaze flashed in my mind. No. I wouldn''t be signing anything that face put in front of me.

    "No, I won''t." I replied. "But we''re going to have to negotiate some new kind of agreement, before things escalate further. Just ignoring it won''t make them go away."

    Bushra''s mouth twisted in distaste, but she nodded in agreement. "On a different topic, I brought the AR glasses with me, they''re in my car. You can take a couple pairs back with you for testing."

    "Great, thanks," I grinned. "I was planning to check in with an acquaintance of mine to see if I could borrow theirs, but this works better." I popped the last bite of rice ball into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully, considering the large man and his store. "Though I may reach out to them anyway. They''re big into AR/VR games, they might have some ideas for other markets for ARC." I hesitated. "I''ve also talked with my friend Kris a little about the finance side. She''s a corporate controller, and knows this stuff a lot better than I do." I looked at Bushra directly. "Do you mind if I share some details with her? She''s a close friend of mine, and she already knows about my circumstances. I can leave your name out of it, but it may start to get harder to explain without your side of things."

    I waited while she looked inward, wrestling with the decision. Finally she grimaced, and looked up. "I expect Thorsten and Jon are already spreading their version to cover their asses, so maybe it''s good for some other people to know the truth." She breathed deeply, and looked at me steadily. "Go ahead. Tell them what you need to." She grabbed the last mushroom skewer, and took an aggressive bite.

    ? ? ?

    Bushra drove us back to my car, where she also handed over the AR glasses she''d brought with her. I took the boxes and thanked Bushra for the meal, and for helping me out tonight. Bushra waved with a bouncy smile, and drove off. She seemed satisfied with the night''s events at least. I was trying to juggle the boxes to get my keys, when suddenly their weight was removed.

    "Let Us take those for you," Iter stated.

    "Ah, thanks," I replied, then opened the back door for him. He placed the boxes on the seat, and leaned back out of the way while I closed the door. I looked at him. Standing in glare of the parking lot lights, Iter seemed otherworldly and ethereal. The contrast between that image, and of him offhandedly putting cardboard boxes into the rear seat of a car was just so¡­ off-putting. "This must seem quite different than what you expected," I reflected. "I mean, the hero business in this world must be boring, compared to the magical world you planned for."

    "We do not think so. You are proving to be quite an interesting Hero, Mai." Iter moved around the car and entered the passenger door.

    I opened my door and settled in the driver seat, while looking at him incredulously. "Interesting?" I shook my head and started the engine. "All you''ve done since you came here is follow me around to places to eat, talk about starting a company, and sneaking into offices. You played video games all night. A god stayed up all night on my couch playing a video game!" A harsh laugh escaped my lips. "I can''t think of a less heroic way for a god to spend his time." I don''t know where this frustration was bubbling up from, but I couldn''t keep it down. It was as if all the strangeness, doubt, and fear were rising up to pull me under.

    "You are wrong," I heard the strength of his conviction, but also a slight confusion in his voice. In my peripheral vision I saw him facing me, but I stayed looking straight ahead. "We find these activities and experiences to be most stimulating. They would not have occurred at all without your existence." He paused. "Are you unsatisfied with the Communion, Mai?" I felt his gaze, searching, uneasy.

    I watched the road, avoiding that stare, trying to sort through my own unsettled thoughts. "I''m not unsatisfied," I replied slowly, choosing my words carefully, like stacking a tower of misshapen glassware. I didn''t dare turn. "But this," I continued, "was not what I expected a hero to be like ¨C for my life to be like." It was coming out wrong. "It sounds like I''m blaming you," I tried to reorient, "but I''m not." I bit my lower lip, "I just," ¡­ the words weren''t there. Everything was confused, what I was doing, what I wanted, what was happening to me. All jumbled up inside, blocking any forward motion or thought. Until it all came out in a rush, bursting from inside like a shaken soda from a can, "I just haven''t a clue what I''m supposed to be doing!" At last, I looked at him, pleading. "Is this," I waved my right hand feebly, taking in the entire universe of magic-less heroes, tech company conspiracies, and fasting gods, "really what I''m supposed to do?"

    Iter didn''t respond immediately. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, and realized I was holding my breath. I let it out shakily. When he finally spoke, it was in a softer, apologetic tone. "We do not know, Mai." I waited. But there was nothing but silence. No answers, no direction.

    I laughed darkly, suddenly, shaking my head. "Great. Yeah, I should have guessed." I rubbed my face and let out a long, slow breath to release the frustration and embarrassment I was feeling. The freeway flew by. I looked down and found my speed was approaching 90 MPH. I had to consciously lift my foot off the pedal to begin decelerating. The street lamps slowed their headlong passage, bright against the impenetrable blackness of the night sky.

    Iter hesitated, frowning, then licked his lips and started again. "In choosing Our Hero, We must choose to disrupt the natural course of Our Hero''s life. Your Fate, altered, irrevocably. The weight of that one choice, larger than all others." His voice was hushed. "We support, We watch, We inform, where We are able." He was quiet a while, and I found myself shaking my head slowly, in confusion or denial, I wasn''t sure which. "But once Our Hero is chosen, We give over the act of choosing ¨C it is, it must be, yours thereafter." I glanced quickly over at Iter, and saw him looking clearly and unblinkingly in my direction. I had to turn back to the road to avoid being blinded by that gaze, brighter than the piercing streetlamps passing by. "We must have Faith," his voice rang with a frightening conviction, "in the Hero you are to become."

    I had no answer to those unwavering eyes. The road flowed by relentlessly in silence. I felt the drag of his expectations, his faith, like a physical pressure. It poured down on me in an unceasing waterfall, majestic and powerful. I was swept away and submerged in its bright and suffocating waters.

 Chapter 14: Pathfinding

    I wiped the rapidly cooling sweat from my face before pulling the key from the pocket of my neoprene running belt and unlocking the front door. I tried to get in a good run most days, though typically much earlier in the morning before work. I was a plodder more than a racer, but today I was going for distance anyway. On Sundays I''d either sleep in, or sometimes I used the day to push a bit farther than normal. This was one of the latter.

    The sun felt warm in the bright winter morning, but the shade of the porch was deceptively chill. I could feel cold seeping into the skin on my thighs, and across my nose and cheeks, everywhere exposed to the wind. I gulped lungfuls of the air and felt the cold burn my throat and chest, my pulse pounding as if catching up. The sweat dripping down my temples and back was rapidly cooling, but it felt good against the interior heat I''d built up from the exertion.

    I may have imagined it, but with the raise in level yesterday I felt¡­ stronger. The telltale taste of iron meant I''d pushed it a little, and my legs were quivering. However, instead of the typical 4-6 miles, I ran for almost 8 today. My speed was quite a bit better, too. I didn''t know how to feel about that. I''d been running for a few years, and have seen some intermittent improvements in speed and distance. This overnight jump just from leveling up ¨C it was both thrilling and kind of frustrating at the same time.

    Almost as frustrating was a collection of odd jewelry and cash in my belt, causing it to bulge and sway uncomfortably toward the end of my run. Iter had made sure to reference my map before our trip, and he''d called me over to each ''loot box'' we came across. I mean, the cash was nice (an impressive $128 if you''re curious), but what would I do with the assortment of rings, charms, and earrings I''d accumulated? I knew I should feel grateful for the unexpected good fortune. Did this count as first world problems? Another world problems? But what I actually felt was worried and annoyed, especially after the fifth time of digging through a shrub to pick up a single silver earring. But the most irritating of all¡­

    "Although We appreciated seeing more of this world, this manner of physical maintenance seems rather monotonous." Iter stood next to me, his clothing changed into immaculate dove gray running shorts and matching skintight racing top, with unblemished white running shoes. He had a white runners cap on his head with reflective stripes, his bright and glossy silver hair pulled back in a ponytail through the back loop. Not a speck of dirt or drip of sweat marred his appearance. He wasn''t even breathing hard. "You know that the Communion acts to preserve your stamina and strength, do you not?"

    "Yeah, I think you mentioned that a few times," I rested my hands below my waist and tilted my head backward, waiting for my breath rate to settle before finally opening the door. "Running does more than keep me fit. Helps me clear my mind."

    I kicked off my running shoes, dropped my belt and its accumulated loot onto a side table, and went to the kitchen. I grabbed a sports drink from one of the lower cabinets near the sink, and drained half the bottle before I needed to take a breath again. Iter had followed me in and watched on in curiosity. "If this is to be a common occurrence, We may want to consider a stamina-based skill after your next level."

    "I''ll take that under advisement," I replied, taking a light towel where I''d left it on the table, and pressing it against my face. When I removed it, Iter''s mouth was pursed in mild concern. I smiled back to blunt the edge on my remark, then moved past him. I heard his footsteps make their way towards the front room, and I went to get cleaned up.

    ? ? ?

    Refreshed from the shower, I came out drying my hair with a towel. Taiga was nowhere to be found, but Iter was cross-legged on the couch again, eyes focused intently on the video game with the controller in his hand. He had reverted his outfit back to the comfortable-looking jeans and loose shirt from yesterday. I watched his progress for a while, letting the pleasant post-run lethargy wash over me. Memories of nearly getting caught, and of fainting last night tried to push their way to the forefront, but I shoved them back down, unwilling to dwell on it. I focused on the well-designed figures moving on the screen, comparing them to my previous playthroughs. He''d gone pretty far down the main quest line, so I tried to decipher which alliances and key decisions Iter''d chosen from his companion''s outfits and gear. Hmm?

    "Why are your companions so weak?" I wondered aloud. It slipped out unintentionally, and I looked at him sidelong, embarrassed and worried.

    "What do you mean?" Iter responded, glancing my direction briefly before taking on a group of random bandits while in transit to the next quest point.

    "Well," I began slowly, with lingering concern for my effrontery. "Alexa, for example. She''s a tank, right? But she''s only using the basic skills like Shield Bash, or Parry. Where are her Champion skills?" Iter was pretty far into the game by now, well into the 3rd arc. His main character was pretty powerful at this point, firing off high level spells and doing an excellent job of taking out the mid-level bosses practically on its own. All of the companions were stronger as well, but they weren''t doing much in the fight other than soak up damage. The attacks they made and skills they used didn''t seem to have much of an effect.

    "They have the maximum available levels," Iter replied in confusion. "We have outfitted them with the most appropriate equipment We have obtained." He finished the fight, then opened up his character screen and switched to Alexa''s record. She was Level 16, and her defensive stats were impressive, fitting as a tank. Offense was nearly as high. But she was still using the same skills she''s had since the start of the game, albeit with the maximum points in each skill tree.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "She should have more skills. Didn''t you finish her loyalty quest yet?" Some companions had loyalty quests that were locked until certain story events occurred, but Alexa''s loyalty was easy to get through dialogue alone. Once you had gained their loyalty, you unlocked prestige skills and combos, or unique equipment. But the Alexa I saw on the screen didn''t have any of that.

    "''Loyalty quest''? We have received no such notification." Iter was looking at me questioningly.

    "What does she say when you talk to her?" I rubbed my chin. Maybe there was some dialogue option he''d missed?

    "Talk to her?" It was starting to sound like an echo chamber. "She has some dialogue during cutscenes," Iter narrowed his eyes in thought. "And she comments inanely about her desire to kill more monsters while We are in transit to our next objective," a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. "But she has not initiated any discussions about loyalty."

    A suspicion was sneaking up on me. "Have you talked to her at camp or in your keep?"

    "Why would We?" Blank stare.

    I pinched the bridge of my nose. Then let out a breath. It was his first game.

    "Wyrms Gate is a role-playing game. There are fights and quests, yes, but one of the main parts of the game is taking on the role of the hero and interacting with the world ¨C including your party members. They have their own agendas, quests, and growth paths as well, which you can unlock through a number of different ways." I paused to look at Iter. "But the most common is to talk to them."

    "Interesting." Iter thought for a moment, then selected Alexa and clicked on her to initiate a dialogue.

    "None will escape our righteousness!" the tanky crusader throatily exclaimed.

    "No, well, I mean¡­ You have to do it in camp, or at certain quest points."

    Iter frowned at me.

    "It''s not a requirement," I added, waving a negating hand at the screen. "You can probably finish the entire game without doing any loyalty missions. But it''s part of what makes these genres different."

    A rare crease appeared in Iter''s forehead. "If Mairead goes back to her keep now, the dragonlings will surely destroy the fertile plains of Felandris." He bit his lip in consternation.

    "Nah, they don''t have a timer or anything for this quest," I assured him. "The game generally gives a clear indication when a quest has a time limit."

    Iter cocked his head. "Did not the lord of Ehlren say the attack was imminent?"

    "Yeah, that''s just flavor, to create a sense of urgency and crisis for the player," I smiled, hopefully not too uncharitably. "But the developers don''t want the player to fail, and they want you to be able to explore the world they''ve built without feeling like you are giving up something important."

    "These game makers want Us to feel pressure to take action, but there are no consequences for inaction? That is absurd."

    "Welcome to game storytelling. It''s meant to pull you in with high stakes, but it''s also meant to be fun. There''s whole internet memes about this." I grinned, but then shifted to concern as I saw Iter''s scrunched up face.

    "What are the dragonlings or villagers doing while We dally about with Our companions?" I could tell Iter was struggling with this.

    "Uhm, waiting? Or actually, I think the villagers are dead by the time you arrive, no matter what you do." I saw Iter''s eyes widen, and I quickly added, "But they aren''t real, of course. It''s a game, a story."

    "But surely a story has choices," He sat upright, glaring at the controller as if affronted. "A Path taken means another is not taken. Else why make the Journey at all?" He turned to me, eyes blazing.

    I opened my mouth to make a joke, but caught my breath. His glare was intense, almost overpowering. I felt the tiny hairs on my arms prickle as if the air were electrified.

    I let out the breath I''d been holding, and met his stare. "That''s beyond the limits of the game," I answered. "None of it is real, though the game tries its best to make you feel as if it is. But it''s all scripted dialogue, decision trees, and random number generators." I paused, trying to figure out a frame of reference Iter might share. "It''s a story they''re telling, and you''re just an actor in their play."

    Iter was silent for a moment, then stared back at the game. "So nothing We do matters?" he grumbled.

    "Well, you could die. Or never complete the game. The story would never reach its conclusion, and you''d never feel that sense of accomplishment in completing it." I thought about it. "Different people get different things out of it. For me, I suppose the fun is not necessarily reaching the finish, but in how you complete it. There are lots of paths, lots of parts of the story or the world to uncover. It''s like a puzzle, or a picture to be uncovered. I don''t think it is possible to see all of it in one play-through. You can get different quests and even different endings depending on the choices you make, or the background and class of the main character you create." I smiled at him. "Haven''t you ever heard the phrase, ''It''s the journey, not the destination?''"

    Iter''s eyes widened in what looked like shock. A weird grin slowly formed on his face, but his eyes still reflected a look of surprise and¡­ embarrassment?

    "We are very much acquainted with this axiom," His smile now was blindingly incandescent. "What a wise Hero that We have found."

    Iter seemed to let the matter drop at that point, and resumed the game. I''d thought he might lose interest after that, but if anything he became even more enthused. I took a shaky breath, unsettled, and left him to it. Looking for something else to focus, on, my gaze landed on box of AR gear on my desk. I may as well look at the prototype app Bushra had sent me. I sat down in front of the laptop at my desk, and opened Bushra''s email instructions.

    ? ? ?

    After a quick review of the sparse documentation, it required a bit of configuring to get the app to install on my phone. It also took me a few tries to get the AR glasses paired via bluetooth, then connected to the wifi. But ultimately I was able to see them in the app as an available device.

    So far so good. Now what?

    I hadn''t a particular plan in mind for testing it all out. I was mostly trying to explore and feel my way into the tool to get some first impressions. But now I stopped, wondering what to do next. Obviously start a session and try out the functionality, but I needed an objective, something the prospective user would want to accomplish with the tool. So what do I want to do?

    I glanced around the room with the glasses on, noticing everything was slightly shaded through the lenses. My vision landed on Iter, intently following the screen and manipulating the joysticks on the controller. Hmm, that might work to start.

    "Hey, Iter? Want to try a different kind of game with me?"

 Chapter 15: Playtesting, Part 1

    "Uhm, you can''t play that."

    Iter had finished laying down 6 tiles on the virtual grid in front of me. Or rather, he had laid them on the real board on the coffee table, while I was looking at a virtual replica of the board in AR on the kitchen table.

    "We do not understand," Iter replied, his voice doubled in both my earbud and carried in from the next room. I could see him looking over at me questioningly from the couch from where I sat in the kitchen. The AR glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, giving him a studious cyberpunk librarian look. "We have placed pieces across the squares using a letter from the word ''down'' that you have placed. The word We have formed using these letters has even captured the coveted "Double Word Score" square." His voice was questioning, but the smile he directed at me was smug. "Where is the problem?"

    Sigh. "You''ve spelled "IGWLZQJ''." I looked down at the board and touched each of the tiles in question, highlighting them in the AR view, before physically turning and looking back at Iter.

    "Yes. We are quite proud to have used a number of high scoring letters in Our turn. We believe that is 70 points altogether." He paused, unsure. "Should We have instead held these letters until we could reach the more powerful ''Triple Word Score'' square?"

    "No," I put my hand on my forehead. "I mean, that word is illegal. You can''t play it."

    "Why not? ''Igwlzqj is the breath, or ''qj'' of the Igwlz tree. As it cools it forms an amber that is used by the Urlatonic tribes to create a tea used during their bonding ceremonies." Iter seemed indignant.

    "Yes, I know," and oddly, I did. That was how the word was translated in my head, in vivid detail. I could envision the vapors flowing from the undulating bark of the Igwlz tree, coalescing in verdant pools at the base between its roots, hardening in opalescent layers over many ages of its lifespan. As Iter''s description continued, I could see the brightly garbed but masked peoples of the Urlatonic harvesting the amber qj, bringing it to their herdmates and steeping the shavings in a seasonal tribute to the shared values of community, gratitude, and the labor of the young in service to their elders. This translation skill was pretty wild.

    "We were disappointed that we could not add the prefix denoting the tea itself, but that tile does not seem to be among the set." Iter pursed his lips and scanned the rules pamphlet I''d left for him.

    I closed my eyes and took a breath, pushing aside images of trees, tea, and Urlatonics I''d never seen or heard of before. "The problem is that the word is not English. It''s against the rules."

    "That seems unnecessarily limiting." Iter began gathering up his tiles and frowning.

    "Well, I don''t know that word, or any other words from different worlds, unless I hear them from you. Don''t you think that gives you an unfair advantage?" Up until I saw that word on the board I never knew it existed. Or that the Urlatonic language (or whatever it was called) existed. Frankly, I was surprised we could use English letters to spell it.

    "We are a God," Iter looked at me, eyebrows raised. "We are always at advantage."

    I blinked. Then I sat back, closing my eyes and leaning my head back over the seat rest. "Why don''t we stop here for now." We''d been testing Bushra''s Augmented Reality Collaboration (or ARC) app for a while. First, we used some of the simple drawing tools included to play tic tac toe, which we both grew bored of pretty quickly. Then I tried the scanning features of the app, taking a short video of some basic dice and importing them. It worked amazingly well, even replicating the physics of the dice rolling in AR. I wondered how she''d implemented that. It was kinda weird, though, seeing disembodied purple hands roll dice in front of me, mimicking Iter''s movement on the couch. I''d have to talk with Bushra about personalization options.

    We were able to use the dice to play a simple game of Yahtzee pretty effectively. I thought Iter would appreciate the gaming aspect of the testing, but he seemed to lose interest quickly. I found an old Scrabble set I had on a shelf in the hall, and while it took some time scanning in each of the tiles, they were fairly easy to manipulate in AR. I had Iter use the physical board and tiles together with my virtual set to test out a mixed IRL/AR environment. It took a bit to figure out how to limit the available tiles so that we could play together with both physical and virtual pieces, but once I figured out how to map my AR objects to real-world items on Iter''s account, limiting the virtual tiles available to it was straightforward. I wondered what use case that feature came from.

    "We agree. We find these games unappealing." Iter had removed the AR glasses and set them down, and was already picking up the controller again. "There is no movement or advancement in those games. We prefer the progression in Wyrms Gate." He looked at me as the game loading screen appeared. "We do not wish to slight your companion Ms. Patel''s creation, but it does not compare to the story in this game."

    "What Bushra built is just the interface," I clarified. "Like the Communion, to pick a familiar example, not the quest." He seemed to give the point consideration, but the main menu soon appeared and he was engrossed again in the video game.

    Quite frankly, I was impressed by the capabilities Bushra was able to implement so far. I can see why Complyze wanted to get its hands on it.

    I watched Iter start up from his save and begin traversing to the next quest point. I considered for a moment. "While graphics are a limiting factor right now, you might be able to play something like a table top role playing game in ARC," I offered.

    "And what is a ''table top role playing game''?" Iter replied genially, eyes glued to the screen.

    "It''s a story-based game that a group of people create together. There''s usually a Game Master, or GM, who lays out the scenario and setting, and the players create characters to interact in that setting. The GM then describes how the elements and people in the world react to the players actions, and so on. It''s kind of like the game you''re playing now, except you use miniature figures and your imagination to handle the action. Well, the minis are optional, though some GMs create their own terrain maps," I was getting off track. "And instead of a computer telling a pre-generated story, the GM can adapt and evolve the story to the characters. It''s pretty fun," I thought about the sessions I''d played with a group at the local game store, Epic Encounters. It had been a while, as the groups I was part of tended to come and go. I recalled my conversation with Bushra last night ¨C the owner of Epic Encounters, Laci, was a big fan of AR and VR games. We''d had a discussion about it one evening when one of the game sessions had been unexpectedly canceled. He might be a good person to get some feedback from.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "So is this ''GM'' a God as well?" Iter suddenly asked.

    "Hunh? Well, in a manner of speaking, I guess?" The godlike powers of the GM were a running joke at our group''s gaming table. "But not literally," I clarified quickly. "It''s a game of shared imagination, but the GM acts as all the non-player characters and functions as referee on questions of the rules. So it''s more like they play the role of the game world itself?" I wasn''t sure I''d explained it very well.

    "We should like to meet this ''GM''." Iter announced, before leading his party to a dungeon entrance and entering. I passed on clarifying it was a role played by different people in different sessions. I''d GM''d myself before, though I had more fun as a player. A mental image of Iter catechizing one of the regular GMs arrested my thoughts momentarily.

    After closing our ARC sessions and putting away the glasses and games, I returned to the kitchen to figure out lunch. There wasn''t much to work with. I wish I could say I''d eaten out a lot over the last few days, but this was a pretty standard frequency for me. Lots of people I knew enjoyed cooking. I wasn''t one of them. But it wasn''t the most frugal of lifestyles. I''d have to go to the grocery to stock up on some things to make at home at some point.

    Luckily, I''d collected a sizeable sum this morning from the loot drops on Location ¨C not enough to pay rent, but certainly enough to get some lunch. And I''d definitely spent some calories this morning, so a little splurging wouldn''t hurt either my waist or my wallet.

    "Iter? Want to come with me to get some Mexican food?

    ? ? ?

    In addition to an overabundance of breakfast diners, Alameda was known for its brunch spots. The two facts were probably correlated, if not causal. However, the spot I picked was a small converted home with a red tile roof known simply as Rosa''s. Surrounded by an industrial zone that had grown up around it, it continued to serve up the most amazing Mexican food I''ve ever eaten. I have some acquaintances in LA and San Diego who scoff at the notion of Mexican food in Northern California, but to each their own. I''ll take Rosa''s.

    It was busy on a late Sunday morning, expectedly so. The walls and booths were painted in stripes of light blue, yellow, orange and red, while green painted chairs sat at purple tables. The air was filled with the smells of frying oil and corn tortillas, the serving staff busying themselves between the filled serving room and the kitchen. In contrast, the matronly host sat seated at a podium up front, idly watching a futbol game playing on a large screen TV by the small bar.

    The host took down our names and smiled broadly, before turning back to the game. I was back in jeans and a light blue t-shirt with a silhouette of Ultraman done in the style of the NBA logo, while Iter had gone for ivory-colored skinny jeans and a solid dove grey shirt that a hung like silk on his god-like frame. I''d hoped my Luck streak would hold out, but we ended up with a 45 minute wait for a table for two. Or maybe that was lucky ¨C Rosa''s was always packed on Sundays. My stomach groaned in anticipation.

    Once seated and our orders taken (machaca con huevos and iced tea for me, water for Iter), I grabbed a tortilla chip from the basket and looked across the table at the god. Iter was looking around surreptitiously at the other dinners, an expression of mild distaste marring his otherwise immaculate features. It must be like being a vegan at a hot dog eating contest, I thought idly, dipping the chip in salsa and popping it in my mouth. Bearing some responsibility for his predicament, I offered, "You don''t have to come with me, you know."

    Iter turned towards me, eyebrows raised. "We have discussed this. We will support you wherever you go."

    "Yeah, well, I eat 3 times a day," I chided good naturedly around a mouthful of chip, and picking up another. "Even if it makes you uncomfortable, I can''t exactly stop." I paused, then offered, "You could stay at my house." He''d been doing that already, I realized. Somehow I''d acquired a more or less permanent guest now.

    "We are content to remain at your side." He smiled softly.

    I thought I''d be more worried about a man I hardly knew staying at my home. Maybe I should be. But Iter was entirely unthreatening, at least in a mundane sense. I felt entirely at ease around him, the realization of which made me frown in consternation. He wasn''t exactly a burden, either, except for maybe an increase in my electricity bill. I wasn''t sure about it in the long term, though.

    "So what happens next?" I asked out loud.

    "We thought you and Ms. Patel had a plan of action," he replied, leaning his head on his hand and narrowing his eyes like a cat.

    "I mean, after all that. All of this," I waved away extortion, bribery, and legal threats like so much air. "Are you planning to stay at my apartment forever? When I get a new job, are you planning on following me to work?" The latter had occurred to me just now, causing my brow to wrinkle further.

    "We need not intrude on all aspects of Our Hero''s life. After you are settled into your role and path, We would be pleased to step back for a time." The corners of his lips turned upward in a reassuring smile. "Is that your goal, a new job?"

    I sighed. "This app of Bushra''s is pretty close to technically complete. I''ve seen worse alphas." There was definitely something of value there. I''d been expecting to find something wrong, some flaw, some reason why the product wouldn''t work. Then I could let Bushra down easy, or better yet, direct her to some contact or company where she could leverage her work as a foot in the door.

    But from what I''ve seen so far, it was the real deal. Bushra was incredibly talented, and her passion and drive were infectious. So why was I still holding back?

    The food arrived at that point, the contents of the plate still sizzling. The aroma of spiced beef, peppers, onions, and eggs rose on wafts of steam. My animalistic brain overpowered all other non-essential thoughts to focus all its synapses on the urgent task before me. I took one of the flour tortillas they''d placed next to the larger plate, and began loading it with refried beans, rice, and machaca, followed by a dollop of salsa from the ever-present dish. I wrapped it to keep the contents within, then raised it to my mouth with ravenous delight.

    "Oh my god, this is so good." I uttered between mouthfuls.

    "We cannot take credit, but We will accept your praise nevertheless," Iter responded with an amused grin.

    "Hey, well, if you could make this, you would have my undying devotion," I smiled back.

    "Perhaps this skill is worth acquiring, then." He chuckled.

    After three tortillas were built and consumed in a gastronomic orgy of delight (I was really hungry), I sighed and leaned back in my chair. It creaked audibly, but I ignored it, one arm across my bulging belly, the other dropped at my side. Fully half the meal still remained on my plate. Bless you, Do?a Rosa!

    "Are you sated?" Iter asked.

    "Ungh. So good!" I groaned.

    "Perhaps We will continue to follow Our Hero to establishments such as this in the future," he smiled, amused. "We can derive nourishment from simply being in the vicinity."

    "Suit yourself," I sighed, "though you don''t know what you''re missing."

    He narrowed his eyes and peered at me in appraisal, though his smile never left his lips. "Feeling better?"

    I straightened up and looked at him across the table. He was resting his face in his hands, elbows on the table in a relaxed and measured pose. I considered.

    "I do feel better," I acknowledged. "Still not sure about this company idea. I mean, what can I do? Bushra did all the work." That was close to the heart of it, at least what I wanted to say out loud.

    "What is needed?" He pressed.

    "Well, as Kris said, a business plan is a good start." I thought about it for a moment, then started listing things off. "We need a paying customer, we need a way to sell and provision the service, and we need money to cover our costs until those happen. We need to market and sell the product. And we need to establish a company to have an entity that can pay for services and collect money. Not necessarily in that order." I looked across the table. "We''re starting from scratch. We need everything."

    "Can you do these things?" Iter met my gaze.

    "Honestly, some of it, but not all." I slumped my shoulders.

    "Do you know anyone who can?"

 Chapter 16: Playtesting, Part 2

    "Hey Mai. Been a while."

    The door chimed as Iter and I entered, and a gangly youth looked up from their open textbook on top of the glass counter containing various gaming accessories and card packs for display. With long, wavy brown hair and soft blue eyes, Jan smiled gently as he welcomed us inside. The midday winter sun shone brightly through the windows of the storefront, setting motes of dust dancing through shadows. The rest of the store was well lit, but the walls were lined with shelves of boxes, books, and other gaming paraphernalia, giving a somewhat dense and claustrophobic feeling.

    I waved at Jan breezily with my free hand as I entered. Jan nodded back, gave a brief glance at Iter behind me, then returned to the book tented between his bent elbows. I passed by the counter to the back of the store, an open space nearly as large as the retail front. It was stuffed with long tables with black tablecloths set at angles like a parking lot. Most were empty, but one in the back had three people sitting around it idly, looking at their phones. They looked up when I entered.

    "Hey Mai. You joining today? Not sure if its happening." This was Ted, a pale skinned and muscular man in his late twenties, with short-cropped reddish-blonde hair, a midwestern drawl, and an abundance of freckles. He looked at me with a defeated grimace, while the other two went back to their phones. "Abbie sent us a message bowing out, so we were waiting to see who else shows up before calling it."

    Abbie was one of the rotating cast of GMs for the store''s semi-regular table-top role-playing sessions. I hadn''t been around for a bit due to extended projects at work, but I''d been a regular during a previous campaign Ted was also a part of. He loved the wizard-type classes, the bigger and glassier the cannon, the better. One of my favorite recurring moments from early in our campaign was the big, beefy man routinely describing how he hid behind our barbarian tank in an effort to avoid damage.

    I didn''t recognize either of the other people at the table. The one facing me was young, maybe 15, with longish blond hair and a slight build with wide shoulders they''d yet to grow into. They were energetically flipping through a rule book, while referencing their phone every couple seconds or so. The other had their back toward me. I could see they had tight curly hair dyed in stripes of pink, blue, and purple, shaved short on the sides, and a loose sweater worn off the shoulder. But otherwise they seemed focused on their phone screen, uninterested in the newcomers.

    "Hi Ted," I raised a hand. "Nope, sorry. I''m here to see Laci, actually. He around?"

    "Yep, he''s¡­ "

    Ted was interrupted by a tower of boxes with a pair of legs in worn jeans pushing back a black curtain in the far back, and wobbling its way over to the table. The top of the stack caught on the edge of the heavy curtain, and I started to rush forward thinking it would all come tumbling down. But the curtain slipped free, leaving the boxes to sway briefly on their way to the table, but nothing more.

    "Mai! Been a while!" The tottering tower sorted itself out, and a large man appeared from behind it. Laci was the spitting image of his son at the front of the store, with a few extra pounds and a full mane of silver hair. He reminded me of an aging, portly Barry Gibb in a Hawaiian shirt, with a smile outshining the fluorescent ceiling lights. He squinted in our direction, eyes crinkling with interest at Iter trailing behind me.

    "Hi Laci," I waved and walked over to him, "This is my friend, Iter. Iter, this is Laszlo Szilyagi." I tried not to mangle his name pronunciation too badly. But the name seemed to roll off my tongue without effort ¨C was this Divine Translation at work? "He''s the owner of Epic Encounters," I finished. Laci had been running this shop for nearly as long as I''d lived in Alameda. Long enough that I remembered him picking up Jan after middle school and bringing him by the store. Ugh, now I felt old.

    I gathered from snippets of conversation over time that Laci had previously worked in the video game industry for a now-defunct studio. He loved this shop, though, and was practically always here, cajoling customers into trying the latest and greatest games and personal technology. AR was only the most recent.

    "Such as it is," Laci chuckled, "call me Laci." He strode around the table and put out a meaty hand for a handshake, and Iter grasped it good naturedly. Laci was a big guy, having a couple inches over even Iter in the god''s current form. Crinkled blue eyes looked back and forth between us appraisingly. "So," he started, "we''re short-staffed on GMs at the moment. Feel like sitting in?" He raised his bushy grey eyebrows hopefully.

    "Not today, I''m afraid. I''m here to see you, as a matter of fact," I decided to get right to the point. "I''m trying out a new AR system, and was hoping to get your thoughts on it. But," I nodded to the others at the table, "if you''re busy, I could come back later."

    Laci''s eyes lit up when I mentioned AR. I knew the man was an enthusiast, but it was fun to see his expression change as one of his favorite topics came up. It was like a big St. Bernard seeing his favorite squeaky toy. "You''re jumping on the AR train, too, Mai?" He leaned toward me, his clear blue eyes bright.

    "Not exactly. It''s an advance version of a product I''m testing before investing further." I kept it vague for now. It wasn''t really a gaming rig, per se, but that seemed a good way to put it through its paces.

    "Careful, Mai, he''ll have you up to your virtual ears in chicken eggs before you know it," Ted inserted. He was in the Coast Guard, and a big fan of games of all kinds, though obviously hadn''t yet contracted Laci''s passion for AR. Ted was a regular at the store and happily joined sessions of whatever game was running at the time. Laci''s latest AR craze was a game called Poppin'' Chicks, where players tap screen to spawn eggs and try to capture their opponents'' eggs before they hatch into chickens. It was kind of like Hungry Hungry Hippos, but played virtually. And, of course, guaranteed to bury you in a sea of clucking chickens no matter what you do. It wasn''t my cup of tea, but Laci had a reputation for inviting the unwary at any opportunity.

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    "I''ve had my fill of huevos at Rosa''s, sorry," I replied with a grin, raising my to go bag, to which Ted kindly laughed more than the joke was worth. "Though maybe you''d like to try something new, too?"

    At this point, the other adult in the room swiveled around in their chair, placing their phone on the table before giving me a lazy smile. "Hello, I''m Bily," they reached out their arm and raised their wrist in relaxed manner. I had to lean in a bit to shake hands, and they briefly touched fingers before releasing, and then repeating the gesture with Iter. "A pleasure," they purred. They had a mellow contralto voice, narrow brown eyes, and a glittering peach lip gloss with matching eye shadow. They pulled it off well. "I''m new here, but I''ve gamed with Teddy before. He''s even kept up once or twice." They gave us a slow blink of long, glittery eyelashes, smile fixed in place.

    "Bily can be a bitch when you first meet ''em, but they''re alright, truly," Ted added with a grin, which made me frown in concern, but Bily scowled and clicked their tongue.

    "And farmer-boy needs to learn to mind his manners," Bily growled, "likely due to his upbringing in a barn. Ignore him." Bily waved their long, slender fingers as if shooing Ted away, then patted the seat next to them and motioned for us to sit. "Looks like we all have some time to spare since our GM abandoned us. Sounds like you have something spicy to share. Do tell."

    "Yes, what is this new toy you have, hmm? Something you can show me?" Laci loomed behind us, barely keeping his hands in check in almost a grasping motion, clearly excited.

    I sat down and looked at each of them in turn. "It''ll take a moment or two to set up. Do you have any AR sets we can borrow?" I asked. "Also, can I put this in your fridge?" I added, raising Rosa''s to go bag slightly.

    ? ? ?

    A couple of hours later, four of us (Iter abstained) were arranged at different corners of the room, looking down at the tables in front of us in concentration. The younger player, who I learned was named Eric, had been picked up by a parent shortly afterwards. But everyone else had been willing, if not as enthused as Laci at the start. Laci had more than enough AR sets to go around, though I might have seen him go in the back to open a couple of new boxes from stock. It had taken a few moments to set up everyone''s phone with the app and configure their glasses, but it was fairly simple to launch a session and connect everyone together. We opted to skip the app''s audio since we were all in the same room. But it was a little surreal looking up to see everyone seemingly ignoring each other and focused at the mostly empty spaces in front of them.

    In the middle of the room was a table full of opened game boards, tokens, and cards spread out haphazardly as we tried one game after another. Laci had a grid map laid out in front of him currently, with some dry-erase makers nearby. He had his phone up on a table stand, with the camera pointed at the map. It was possible to use the camera in the lenses, or even still images to initialize the virtual space in ARC, but a higher-end streaming camera allowed for a more interactive experience. I noticed some lag in my AR view when Laci moved the tokens around, but it was nothing off-putting ¨C if I hadn''t been there in person to see him move out of the corner of my eye, I never would have noticed.

    Ted was standing in front of his seat, looking down in thought. His lips were pressed firmly together, arms crossed. His biceps bulged under his shirt, and I could see him working his tongue back and forth as he pondered a way out of his predicament. I softly whispered a note to capture in my Journal, re-affirming the need for expressive avatars, as watching Ted''s face was half the fun.

    Bily was sitting back stirring a drink with a straw. They had a mischievous grin on their face, their previous turn being the cause of Ted''s consternation. Where they obtained the straw from, I didn''t know ¨C Epic Encounters sold bottles and cans of various sugar-laden and sugar-free beverages, along with snacks of all kinds, but there weren''t any straws I was aware of. Bily manipulated it like a prop, clearly enjoying Ted''s frustration.

    "Oh, Teddy Bear, you are in a pickle," they chortled.

    "Shaddup. This is all your fault." His brow furrowed further, and he actually bit his lip.

    "I wasn''t the one who wanted to shoot a firebolt at a skull to see if it was trapped."

    "Well, it was." Ted pointed down angrily at the virtual map in front of him, where a miniature skull was sitting on a raised platform, staring menacingly at Ted''s wizard. The skull had retaliated by casting a fireball right back at us. Most of us jumped clear in time, all but Ted''s wizard, who failed his saving throw and was now well below half his hit points. The map and the miniature skull figurine were physically in front of Laci, but each of our character minis had been imported and were being superimposed virtually on the playing field.

    "You wanted to throw ball bearings at it, Bily," I reminded, smothering a smirk while I looked through my paladin''s repertoire of abilities for something to assist.

    "Maybe you should shoot it again!" Bily grinned manically behind their AR lenses.

    "Now, now, it''s Ted''s turn. What do you want to do, Ted?" Laci prompted, playing GM for us this time. His words were genial enough, but the look on Laci''s face was pure evil as he sized up the wizard''s remaining health.

    Honestly, I was having a blast, and I had to remind myself to pause and observe the others'' reactions for possible future enhancements and validation. I was extremely grateful for my Journal to record everyone''s feedback and spoken impressions as we went along. I needed to remember to transcribe and summarize it all tonight, before it was lost in the neverending log. There was no Journal search function. Maybe I should file that enhancement with Iter. Does the Communion have a release schedule?

    At some point, Laci had started pulling out more complex games and sets, wanting to try everything out in ARC. It was thrilling to watch, and I had to push down a sense of misattributed pride over what was happening. I didn''t make this. I wished Bushra could see their expressions.

    My phone started buzzing, so I checked to see who was calling. It was Bushra. Think of the devil. Wondering if she might have seen logs of us playing and was checking in, I picked up the call.

    "Hi Bushra, what''s up?" I was smiling as I stepped away from the table, Bily having sneak-attacked the skull from the shadows, landing a critical hit. Laci was looking in open-mouthed dismay at the map, like a dog whose toy ball was taken away, and it was Ted''s turn to laugh. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Iter, inconspicuous up until now, had moved up next to me.

    "Mai," Bushra''s voice from the phone speaker was quiet and timid, wholly unlike her usual assertiveness. "Jon called. Can you meet me?"

 Chapter 17: Cut Scene

    I''d arrived at a coffee shop in Redwood City that Bushra directed me to via text. It was close to 6pm by the time I arrived, alone. The sun had set behind the hills on my drive over, but it was still fairly light out. I''d dropped off Iter at home, and changed quickly into some charcoal slacks and a simple-yet-dressy long sleeve blouse with a Japanese textile inspired asymmetrical print, with some simple black flats. It could seem weird to Jon if Iter tagged along, and Bushra seemed pretty shaken up over the phone. It might be easier all around if I came solo.

    The caf¨¦ was a SF chain called Joez that was regularly frequented by tech workers. Odd fact, I''d had my first interview with Complyze at a Joez in the South of Market (or SOMA) area of SF where Complyze was headquartered. The familiarity of the treated cement floors and yellow painted walls, the pungent smell of coffee grounds, and a busy line of baristas behind a tall counter brought back a wave of youthfully exuberant memories. When I was just starting out after college, I often had 1:1s with my manager and senior product managers at Joez to get their feedback and advice. The memories were so contrasting to my current state, I felt a touch of vertigo as if I''d stepped between worlds. It was more jarring than when I actually went back and forth to the Divine Realm.

    I swiftly found Bushra sitting at a back table and quickly went over without ordering. She was back in her jeans and puffy parka that I''d first seen her in¡­ yesterday? It seemed like longer. She had a grande cup of something in front of her, but her eyes were fixed on me from the moment I came through the door, wide and tinged with redness.

    "Jon wants to meet later tonight. He said he''d text me once his family had left the house. I didn''t want to go there alone." It all came bursting out of her in a hushed tumble the moment I sat down.

    "I don''t blame you. It sounds questionable." I paused as I examined her more closely. After speaking her eyes fell to the table, as if exhausted by the effort of tracking me. She was hunched over, hands in her lap beneath the table. But her overall body language was coiled like a spring. "Does Jon know I''m coming?"

    "I told him," she answered, looking up. "He seemed surprised, but he agreed." She bit her lip in worry.

    "We should still be careful. I''m not exactly an unbiased witness if it comes to that. Maybe that''s why Jon agreed." Dealing with two problems at once, possibly.

    "I''m not sure. He almost sounded relieved?" Bushra''s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "He said he wanted to make up for what happened. That he''d made a terrible mistake and wanted to put things right. At first, I told him to go to Hell. But he didn''t deny anything. He sounded so¡­ " That last part Bushra added quietly ¨C I almost didn''t hear it over the din of the caf¨¦.

    "Do you believe him?" I had my thoughts on the matter, none of them kind. But if Bushra believed him, that might change how this played out.

    "I don''t know what to believe. I''m still so angry I can barely stand it" I saw the muscles in her jaw bunch up and her eyes hardened. Then they visibly softened. "But if Jon can fix any of this, I don''t know¡­ I can''t go back, I don''t want to. But maybe there''s a way to salvage something?"

    I didn''t want to guess at what she wanted to salvage. But this was her life, I couldn''t live it for her. I didn''t have that right. Not now, not then. Nothing good comes from stepping into other people''s problems.

    Bushra seemed to notice my silence. "Maybe this can work for you, too? If Jon wants to put things right, seems like your situation is pretty similar." Her tone wasn''t quite pleading, but Bushra''s face was clearly seeking my agreement.

    "It''s possible," I allowed. "If he can somehow clear you of the smear campaign, that could throw doubt on their other accusations." I wasn''t wholly convinced.

    Frankly, I still hadn''t figured out how Bushra''s and my situations were related. Superficially, we were both framed and let go, but beyond that? The motives weren''t the same. I hadn''t created anything they wanted, and I couldn''t think of any way I was a threat to anyone. Jon could have those answers. And I''d brought a picture of the invoice with Jon''s name on it in case I needed some leverage.

    "Yeah. And maybe¡­ " Bushra began with a relieved smile, then stopped abruptly as her phone buzzed. She looked down at it, then back up at me. "It''s Jon. He says we can come over now." She looked at me, desperation and hope in equal measure.

    ? ? ?

    It was rapidly darkening by the time we arrived. Jon''s house seemed a modest home for a company executive in Silicon Valley at first glance, at least compared to the McMansions further inland to the south and east of the bay. Until you stopped to think about the exclusive schools, secure neighborhoods, and short commutes that catapulted home prices to orbital heights.

    Decorative ivy and jasmine flowed over thick stucco walls to frame and display the well-manicured sculpture gardens and decorative Japanese maple, St Catherine''s lace, and Italian Cypress within. In-ground lights lit the plants uncannily from underneath. Some homes had automated metal gates across wide stone paved driveways to protect the egos of their inhabitants ¨C Jon''s home settled for a covered, curved driveway with a central stone fountain in a less defensive, if still pretentious display.

    Bushra drove us in her car. Mine stayed behind at a fortunate meter, Sundays having free parking downtown. I had to admit that her sporty red electric coupe fit in far better in this area than my aging Mazda. She parked in the curved driveway, and as I opened the passenger side door I was immediately engulfed in the cool scents of grass, leaves, and burbling water, winter and drought be damned. Though the redolent scents of flowers still had a few months to go, even in the south bay, the landscaping was obviously very well kept, and the grass remained green despite the season.

    I paused for Bushra to come around the car, before we both stepped up to the large front patio illuminated by a porchlight. I noticed Jon had a video doorbell inset next to the wide, white front door flanked by frosted windows with stained glass beveled accents. How typically tech exec to apply every automated gadget possible. I smiled into the camera with a confidence I didn''t feel, glanced at Bushra for confirmation, and pressed the button.

    As we waited I checked my map to confirm how many people were inside. I spotted one blue dot toward the rear of the house, which I assumed was Jon. I also saw three or four different question mark indicators in close proximity, and momentarily caught my breath. If that was evidence like I''d found at the IHS offices, this was well worth the trip. Jon''s dot wasn''t moving toward the front door, though.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    After a tense moment, Bushra looked at me with a frown, and went up to the door to knock. "Jon? We''re here," she began, when the door eerily swung inward from the light force of her tapping knuckles. It was open.

    Unsettled, we looked at each other. I noticed the blue dot started moving now, but it was heading toward the rear of the house and outside to the backyard. At the same time, we both heard a sound like rattled glass and a door banging from within.

    "What was that?" I asked, but Bushra was already pushing her way inside, following the sound. "Jon?" she called out, and I followed behind her cautiously. Tasteful fresh flower arrangements were set on small side tables around the open foyer, but all was still. We moved slowly towards the source of the noise, past a formal dining room on our right, a larger great room on the left, and down a hall that passed to the right of an wide set of stairs leading up to the second floor. My map showed no one else within, the blue dot having quickly left our vicinity, distressingly carrying one of the quest markers with it. Three more remained.

    "Jon, are you there? It''s Bushra," my companion continued to call out as we inched our way to a half open interior doorway in the rear of the house. A door to what I assumed was a closet or bathroom was set off to our left just past the stairs, and an open arch on the right led to a well-appointed kitchen. We passed them both by, barely glancing within. I saw Bushra pull something from her purse and grip it tightly in her hand. It looked like a stun gun. She took a swift, deep intake of breath, and moved forward.

    Peering through the partially open doorway into the room ahead, I could see a pair of French doors. Through them I could see the yard beyond, also illuminated by the same in-ground light fixtures as out front. One of the pair of glass paned doors slowly swung back to rest against its mate with an audible ''click''.

    I starting hearing another sound at this point, a kind of hissing, rain-like white noise. A sprinkler? We were getting closer to the remaining markers I saw, but there was no one left inside the room. I was starting to doubt that really was Jon. Why had he left in such a hurry, and why out the back? Alarms were ringing in my head. Was this a trap? Should we leave? I thought about the video camera in the door bell out front. But I kept following Bushra forward, drawn by the allure of those quest markers on my map.

    "Jon?" With one last query, Bushra looked back at me. Her brows were bunched up together and her eyes were wide in puzzlement and worry. Then they firmed with determination. I noticed a slight tremor in her left hand as she pushed the interior door open the rest of the way. She moved inside, stun gun at the ready.

    The well lit room appeared to be a bedroom suite that had been converted into an office. A large wooden desk took up one end, with bookcases of matching dark woods behind it. In addition to various books on business, technology, and history, I saw numerous framed portraits of Jon and his family; his wife, and three girls at various times and ages. On top of the desk was a large pair of monitors, an ergonomic keyboard and mouse, and an open laptop plugged into a docking station on a brushed metal stand. The screens were all lit, reflecting a lock screen with a login prompt in the pained glass of the bookcases. A smattering of papers, pen holders, and sticky notes, as well as a couple more frames were spread out on the surface. Behind the desk was a high-end Herman Miller Aeron chair. One of the quest markers rested on a thin legal notepad to the side of the keyboard.

    The other end of the room had a long leather couch that matched the dark wood of the desk and shelves. A rumpled blanket and bed pillow lay there, clearly recently used. A pair of long ivory curtains were open to either side of the French doors ¨C underneath the one on the left was where another of the three markers was located. There was a strong smell of cut grass coming in from the outside, as well as another, fetid smell underneath.

    The last marker was past another interior door to the left of and behind the desk. It was also open and illuminated by a light from the ceiling inside. Somewhere within was the source of the sound we were hearing ¨C a shower, I realized. I caught a glimpse of a sink and mirror just inside what was now clearly a connected bathroom.

    Bushra started that way with a barely audible, "Jon?" I took the opportunity to check the marker on my map below the curtain. It wasn''t easy to notice against the espresso brown wooden baseboard that ran the length of the wall. If I hadn''t had the marker to point it out, I might have missed it entirely. It was a single leather glove, laying on the floor just to the side of the French doors. It looked like it was wet with something, and as I wondered whether and how to pick it up, I heard a sharp gasp from the bathroom and something hit the floor with a thud.

    I ran over and saw Bushra clutching onto the sink with her left hand for support. The stun gun was on the floor next to her, her right hand covering her mouth as she stared fixedly toward the shower. The foul smell was stronger in here, assaulting my nose with a hint of iron.

    Jon sat slumped against the shower wall, head resting against his chest. He was completely naked and pale, and I noticed abstractly a small stack of folded men''s clothes on top of the toilet nearby. Jon''s legs were tucked up under him, but his arms were stretched out on either side, with horrible red puckered gashes down the inside of each forearm. A trickle of red streamed from both wounds as it mingled with the water, slid down his wrists and swirled in reddish streams down the drain in the floor. Most of his voided bowls had washed away, but some lingering feculence remained. There was an open box cutter resting loosely inside his left hand.

    Within my map, I noticed the final quest marker on top of Jon disappear with a blip.

    ? ? ?

    After what seemed like a frozen moment in time, Bushra reached out slowly and turned off the shower. I knelt down to check for Jon''s pulse. My slacks soaked up the incidental spray from the shower around my knees as I felt around on Jon''s wet, warm neck. Nothing, no pulse. His body temperature was still warm, but the heated water from the shower had been falling right on him. That the flow of blood from his arms had slowed to a oozing trickle made Jon''s state undeniably clear.

    I stood up and shook the water from my hands, and looked over at Bushra in the now silent room. I shook my head slowly. She stared at me unblinking, eyes unfocused.

    "You mean he''s¡­ " her voice trailed off in a whisper.

    "We should call the police." I looked over to the shower faucet, feeling numb all over. "Try not to touch anything else." I moved out of the bathroom and back toward the office area.

    I heard Bushra pick her stun gun off the bathroom floor and follow me into the office. I went immediately to the pad of paper on the desk with the quest marker I noticed previously. I pulled out my phone and took a quick picture of the handwritten note on top of the notepad, blocking Bushra''s distracted view with my body. ''I''m sorry, first and foremost,'' the note began, before I turned away and completed the call to 911.

    After relaying the necessary information to the dispatcher, I turned and saw Bushra sitting on the couch. She was staring down at nothing, and as I moved closer I saw her shivering all over.

    "Why do you do this to me," she breathed. I sat down next to her and hugged her, trying to at least impart some warmth to her shaking frame. "Both of you, making me see that again." I couldn''t understand what she was talking about, but I held her closer through the shakes, my own body starting to quiver now. Tears welled up in her eyes on her suddenly very young and small-looking face. I tilted her head gently onto my shoulder as we sat in silence, waiting.

    Unbidden, a series of notifications appeared in the lower half of my vision:

    Quest Complete.

    Reclaim Stolen Honor!

    Level Up!

    You are now Level 3.

    Level Up!

    Your companion has gained a new level!

    New Quest.

    A Fractured Pride.

    Accept? Y/N

    ? End of Act 1?

 Sidestory: Crash and Burn

    A screech of brakes, a looming white shape, and the impact of a body on metal. I saw my coworker, Mai, carried forward by a commercial van, splayed across the hood and windshield, before the truck''s rapid deceleration left her flying through the air. Her limp body arced forward and tumbled across the pavement a further distance before coming to rest. Though the din of traffic had filled the air before, I swear I could hear my heartbeat and the heavy breathing of the large man next to me in the silence that followed. Everything slowed to a stop along with Mai''s form on the asphalt.

    Then I heard two sets of footsteps traveling in opposite directions. I realized one set was the large man that had been fighting with Mai, running away down the sidewalk. The other set I was surprised to learn was my own as I rushed over to where Mai was collapsed on the ground. My phone was in my hand from when I''d been about to threaten the two combatants with the police. I quickly dialed 9-1-1 and knelt down next to Mai, only then thinking I should see if there were more cars coming, if it was safe. I saw the truck had stopped completely, an airbag filling the interior of the windshield, webs of radial cracks running along the surface. The cars next to us had stopped, though a few in the lane beyond had started moving again, unaware of the scene playing out a few feet away. I started to hear other voices and yelling around me, saw more people moving toward the truck, toward me. I looked back down at Mai.

    I had no idea how to do CPR or first aid. I knew you shouldn''t move an injured person, but the way Mai lay crumpled in the street didn''t look right. She had collapsed on her right side, her arm twisted unnaturally beneath her, her neck extended at an odd angle. I saw blood bubbling from her lips as she wheezed. She was breathing at least. Blood started to seep up from scrapes and abrasions all over her face, arms, and chest. I had this weird vision that she was drowning, swallowed up by the rising blood.

    "Hello? Hello?" I heard an attenuated voice, and looked around at where it was coming from. I saw a cracked phone a few feet away from Mai and went to pick it up with a free hand. I held it up to my ear, but the voice kept coming from far away. "This is 9-1-1 dispatch, who''s calling? Are you able to speak?" I realized then it was coming from my phone in my other hand. I felt another person kneeling next to me, saw someone else had started to inspect Mai with trained eyes, people were shouting and there was a belated scream in the distance. I held my phone to my mouth in a daze, and said in a weirdly calm voice, "This is Bushra Patel. There''s been an accident."

    ? ? ?

    When the ambulance with Mai inside left, I remained seated on a concrete planter some distance from the street. There was a scratchy blanket on my shoulders, and two cardboard boxes resting on either side of me. Once the EMTs had arrived and I''d hung up with 9-1-1, I''d moved away from the scene to sit down, and really started to shake. A new batch of firefighters had come and draped the blanket over me, and checked me over. Finally, a police officer came by and took my statement, asked about Mai, took down my information. He gave me a card, which I still held in the hand that clutched the ends of the blanket together. While I was sitting there, someone had brought the two boxes over to me, with what impulse I''m not sure. I guess they thought Mai and I were connected in some way. I didn''t even remember Mai''s last name.

    I stirred, and looked around. People were still milling about, but most were keeping their distance. Traffic had started moving again, and the scene was slowly returning to normal. Like it never happened. The police officer was talking to a tow truck driver that had arrived to remove the vehicle from the scene of the accident. Sitting on the curb nearby I saw an EMT administering to a man with a gauze pad pressed to his face. The truck driver, I assumed. I felt a surge of unwarranted anger at him. He forced this on me. It''s his fault. Everything could be his fault. But that fire flamed out with one look at the man''s weeping face. He looked so pitiful and lost. I couldn''t hear what he said, but it was clear he was as much the victim as me. If Mai died, it was going to haunt this poor guy, I reflected.

    Then I pulled up with a start. Was Mai dead? I bit my lower lip, trying to stifle the feelings surging up my throat. I barely knew her. We worked together one time. But I remembered a quiet competence and confidence from being around her. It soothed my taut nerves when dealing with those egotistical, chauvinist engineers who found fault at every turn. When I wanted to yell and scream in frustrated rage, she''d simply smile and turn their words back on them. She never let them derail or rant. She was in control. Even remembering that helped me stop shivering and regain some measure of calm. But it also unblocked my thoughts, and I could feel the hot wetness building at the corner of my eyes.

    Needing a distraction and lacking other outlets, I turned and pulled one of the boxes up and onto my lap. I wiped at my eyes ineffectually with the rough blanket, and opened the box to confirm its contents. The first thing I saw was an unfamiliar padded wallet with a strange set of keys laying on top of a ripped and mostly empty laptop backpack. Maybe they were Mai''s? The rest of the box was a jumbled mess of folders and office supplies. I remembered I still had her phone in my bag, pulled it out, and put it in the box with the wallet. Then I set that box down on the ground, and picked up the other one. This one was in a similar state, papers strewn around. I recognized the exit paperwork and the upended succulent I''d had at my desk, but then I saw a few items ¨C were these toys? ¨C that weren''t mine. They looked like little rubber robots. I picked up the papers on top and went through them, finally realizing they were certificates and recognition awards for ''Mairead Carrigan'' ¨C these were all Mai''s. I shuffled through the other box again, and realized it contained some photos of mine and other personal items underneath the other things. It was all a jumbled mess.

    I came to the conclusion that I wasn''t going to separate all this here on the sidewalk. Wanting to be away from this place as soon as possible, I picked up both boxes and headed for the lot where I parked my car.

    ? ? ?

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    "Ammi, I''m home," I called out tiredly as I came through the front door.

    "Bushra? Is that you?" I heard my Mama call out from the back of the house.

    "Yes, Ammi," I replied from behind the boxes I was carrying, moving swiftly toward the stairs, "I''m not feeling well, I''m heading to my room to lie down."

    "Do you want something to eat?" came her distracted voice.

    "No, I''m just going to lie down for a bit." I called back.

    "You sure? Or how about some tea with honey?" I heard some shuffling in the back.

    "I''m fine, just tired."

    "Bistar per jao," she relented, "Your Papa will be home late tonight."

    I quickly made my way upstairs with the boxes before she could see and ask questions I didn''t want to answer.

    My room was upstairs and near the end of the hall. My parents'' room was down the hall the other way. My older brothers'' rooms, in the middle, were empty, as both had since moved out. They were storage space now, though largely untouched. I think Ammi kept them available just in case.

    I swiftly but quietly closed the door to my room, and set the boxes down on my bed. The room was cluttered, but familiarly so. Beyond the bed was a large double bookshelf holding piles of books, double-stacked ¨C non-fiction works like The Drunkard''s Walk and Code Girls, were propped up next to science fiction novels by authors such as C J Cherryh and Kim Stanley Robinson. Near the top were treasured childhood awards and trophies, the earlier ones placed high in positions of dusty prominence, while newer certificate frames and medals were draped or stacked wherever there was space. The praise I received for these accolades always paled in comparison to what my family showered on my brothers. Toward the end of school, I''d stopped bringing them up at all.

    My desk had my personal laptop, as well as a large LCD monitor connected to a tower CPU beneath the desk. Cables and accessories were littered around, including multiple models of AR glasses I''d been testing. To be honest, most of this was left over from university projects ¨C I''d barely done any work here since then. I mostly used the PC to play games on Steam when I was taking a break. It was easier to stay working at the office than come home, easier to avoid the comments about social events, my brothers'' success, or worse, my brothers'' successful coworkers that I should meet. My work was appreciated at the office. What I created there had value.

    When I was first approached by Jon, I was utterly stunned. I was proud of my work, but to have that pride be affirmed was intoxicating. My professor in Computer Science introduced us at a dinner party she held, extolling the recent work I''d been doing. I was the youngest person there, but Jon made me feel like I was the guest of honor. I can''t remember talking with anyone else at the party, I certainly drank a bit too much wine, but being able to discuss the work I''d been doing in AR and collaboration, getting feedback and ideas from someone who was working with whole teams of engineers and real budgets¡­ I was floating.

    Long before the offer, before we met to discuss terms of acquiring my project, before the guarantees of financial and professional freedom, I''d made up my mind that I wanted to work there, where Jon was. It wasn''t romantic. Jon was decently attractive, but not overwhelmingly so. And he obviously loved his family. There was never a question. But the allure of that acceptance, that approval, was so powerful. I''d never felt so nervous to live up to those expectations, so embarrassingly grateful to be seen.

    When Thorsten accused me of "sleeping my way up", my throat swelled shut with a savage hate. All words flew out of my mind, and my fists at my side were shaking as my vision contracted until only the two men in front of me existed. I lashed out to claw at that face that spat such venom in front of Jon. But Jon only sat there and said nothing, simply shifted to avoid my gaze, looked down at his hands¡­ all my rage popped like a balloon, broken. It wasn''t the lurid details Thorsten enumerated, the insinuations of my sexual appetites, or the blatant presumptions of my degeneracy. No. It was the complete dismissal of my hard work and skill, all my accomplishments waved away like smoke. It was the truth that their lie revealed, that I''d never earned their respect or their acknowledgement. Once they had my work, that was the extent of my worth. Like the husk of the fruit, ripped away and discarded.

    I stared at the boxes on my bed, feeling the wet futility returning to my heated cheeks. All that I''d built was on my Complyze laptop and cloud repositories ¨C which I no longer had access to. It felt like a chunk of my life had just been ripped out and removed. A pleasant dream, soft and soaring, and evaporating upon waking. I wanted to scream and pull out my hair, to tear into this body that summoned nothing but disdain and despair. But then I flashed hard on the figure flying through the air, and swallowed hard.

    When I saw the man first hit Mai to the ground, I was irritated at how weakly Mai fell. I was looking for anything to wail against, to purge this helplessness. But then Mai leaped back up at her attacker. And I recognized that desperate anger, that drive beyond hope for a reason, any reason for what was happening. I let out the faintest breath of a laugh. It was stupid. But I felt it reignite the fiery fury clenched within me. And then, as soon as mine flickered back to life, Mai''s fire was extinguished like a match in a rush of wind, metal, and glass. In the end, I didn''t even know what she was arguing about, or with who. The flicker of resistance stilled on the pavement, ended even as it began. But I didn''t want that flame to go out. I wouldn''t let it.

    I pulled my worn wooden desk chair over to the side of the bed, and opened the lid of the box closest to me. I removed the wallet, keys, and phone which had fallen along the side, set aside the backpack. Then I took up the stack of loose papers and began scanning through it. It was my exit paperwork, a detailed and formal treatise on the subject of ruining my life. I dropped it angrily to the side of the box next to the things I''d already pulled out. I flipped the box over and shook it roughly, dumping the contents on the bed. I began to systematically shift through the contents, sorting it into piles.

    It was while I was sorting out the second box that I came across an additional packet of exit paperwork. I was about to toss it on the pile with the rest, when I noticed it was a repetition of what I''d read before. A copy maybe? I went through it more thoroughly, and found that while it was mostly the same, it differed in some areas. There were references to fraudulent invoices and vendors, including one that was part of the project Mai and I worked on together. Jon and Thorsten never mentioned anything about this to me. I flipped back to the front of the document, and saw Mai''s name as the identified employee instead of mine.

    My lips curled up in a self-mocking sneer as I sat back heavily in my chair. I shook my head in disbelief. What kind of trial was before me to bear this kind of luck. My only possible ally in this mess, and they''re in the hospital. Maybe even dead. I covered my eyes with my thumb and fingers, pressing hard enough to see white flashes in my inner vision. But my mouth was stretched wide in a maniacal grin. My Ammi would call all of this a test from God. Well, I aced tests. God owed me this one.

 Sidestory: Loose Threads

    It was a long, quiet drive back to the city after dropping Mai off in Alameda. Friday night traffic over the Bay Bridge and around Hospital Curve was painfully slow, as usual, but I eventually made it off the freeway and up the surface streets to my place. On Fridays I''d often have a session at the gym with a trainer, but I''d already texted them earlier that I wouldn''t be coming. My workout duffel was still in the back seat. Maybe I''d do some kind of routine this weekend.

    I found a relatively close parking spot, curbed my wheels to appease the parking patrol. I pulled out the duffel and my laptop bag and swiftly walked down the hill to the metal gate at the front door of my building. I keyed into the small entry space and checked the mailbox. The interior fluorescent light clicked on automatically, if a bit delayed. The neighborhood was relatively safe, but the sudden light often gave me a little start when it was dark out. Which it often was by the time I came home. I held my laptop bag a little closer to my body as I left the small shared foyer and went down the cramped hallway to my apartment door.

    I was in one of two units on the first floor, which meant I shared both a wall and ceiling with my neighbors, but it was still quiet for a residence in the city. The other apartment in the back was owned by a professional couple a little younger than me, who must''ve found their excitement away from home. The upstairs was a single floor occupied by an elderly couple who had originally owned the building outright before going condo. And, of course, it was only me in my place. Frankly, the fewer people the better.

    It was a huge shock getting Mai''s call to pick her up at the hospital. It was even more shocking to see her sitting in a wheelchair wearing those thin hospital scrubs and an embarrassed smile. She looked so small sitting there, clutching a plastic bag like a life preserver. Adrift and alone.

    Mai was always the instigator when we were growing up. From the moment she had her driver''s license, we were shopping for fashions in vintage clothing shops in the Lower Haight and Mission districts, scouring for anime goods in SF Japantown, and having cookouts and building bonfires at Ocean Beach. I was pulled along in her wake, towed through the waves of high school and college. I floated along, attached by the thinnest of tethers, never doubting it would hold.

    Until it didn''t.

    I was working on my Finance degree. I remember getting back shortly after Thanksgiving break I was triple-checking some data for an economics paper I was turning in by the end of the week. Mai showed up at my off-campus studio apartment looking disconnected and dazed. Her cheek was red and swollen.

    "Jamie''s gay," she opened, as she sat on my bed. I''d known her brother almost as long as I''d known Mai. He was a pretty, popular boy, so we never hung around in the same circles. But I''d found we enjoyed the same kinds of manga and books. We talked about them together every once in a while as I was waited for Mai on some excuse or other. In groups, he always seemed to be holding himself back ¨C I''d recognized the quick misdirections and tense silences when favorite celebrities or friend''s relationships came up. We''d talked around the subject once when Mai wasn''t around, and I could feel him weighing his words against his fear. But nothing more. I suspected. He was my friend''s sibling. I had my own issues, my own confusion and concern. I didn''t have room for his.

    "Well, I don''t know anything for certain," I equivocated, uncomfortable. But Mai waved a tired hand and continued.

    "Well, he is. And I fucked up and outed him to Mom." She looked up, "It was a dumb, off-hand comment while washing dishes. Mom said something about grandkids, and I made a stupid joke about how if Jamie or I were gay, she''d be out of luck." Mai squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the heels of her hands against her forehead. "I don''t know why I said that. Mom was just pushing, like she does. So I pushed back a little." I saw her jaw muscle bunch. She stared at the ground, focused at some point in the middle distance.

    "I didn''t know Jamie was there until the serving plate he''d been holding crashed onto the floor. I''d never seen him so scared. We ran over, and Mom began picking up the broken pieces of the plate, I reached out¡­ I didn''t know what he was afraid of," Mai blinked rapidly, taking a deep breath. "He was trembling all over, looking at me¡­ I thought he was hurt or in pain."

    I sat hesitantly next to her on the bed. I resisted the urge to hug Mai''s back or touch her arm. Her voice was so flat and lifeless. I ached to fix it.

    "''How could you,'' he said," Mai swallowed. "I could barely hear him." She paused. "But Mom must''ve. She dropped the pieces of plate and stared up at Jamie from the floor, and started crying."

    I sucked in a breath, leaning backwards. My stomach twisted, and I couldn''t stop myself from asking, "What''d you do?"

    "I just stood there like a fucking idiot," she groaned, shaking her head.

    "Where''s Jamie?" I asked.

    "I don''t know," she squeezed her eyes shut. "He ran," she rubbed her head with her knuckles, then pressed them to her temples, eyes still closed. "Dad came out to find out what was going on. Mom blurted out, ''Jamie''s gay'', sobbing in a heap on the floor. It was surreal," Mai looked up at me, an incredulous look on his face. "I was like, ''What the fuck is going on? What''s the big deal? Jamie''s gay, so what?''"

    I felt a guilty sense of relief wash over me, the breath I didn''t realize I was holding escaping in a voiceless sigh. Until I saw Mai''s face, staring in lost confusion. "He hit me." Her voice was thin, and her chin trembled like a lost child.

    "Oh my God." I immediately cradled her head in my heads, turning her cheek so I could get a closer look. It was red and hot. Mai pulled gingerly away, but I felt an answering heat travel up my neck and burn my eyes. I leapt up to get an ice pack and a washcloth.

    "Mom pulled at him from the ground, and I got away from him. But he kept struggling and swearing. At me, at Mom¡­ at Jamie. Called him every kind of name. I ran out." She looked up at me, her eyes focusing on me for the first time. "God, Kris," she whispered, the tears finally falling, rolling down her cheeks. "What do I do?"

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "God, Mai." I had no words. Of course I knew her parents. Mr. Carrigan owned an office supply business. In my memories he was a portly and pleasant middle-aged guy, maybe a little on the conservative side. But the thought of him getting physical with anyone was unbelievable. He coached our soccer team when I was a kid. He helped me move to college our freshman year. It was hard to reconcile that with the scene Mai described.

    Mai asked me to help find Jamie, then she left soon after. Over the next few days I tried to help her track him down. Mai was frantic, she missed a week of school searching, asking Jamie''s friends, his school, places she knew he went to. But in the end, I was the one who found him first.

    He was staying with a friend of his¨C I know Mai went to their house, maybe more than once, with no success. I didn''t tell Mai, I just went to their place alone and knocked on the door. His friend''s mom answered, but Jamie showed himself pretty quickly when he heard who it was. He had dark brown hair shaved on the sides. His hair pulled up in a messy top knot this morning, rather than his usual overgroomed style. His light brown eyes were downcast and shifted from side to side. But the facial features, the sulky stance ¨C they were so obviously siblings, him and Mai. He was in a pair of ripped jeans and a long white t-shirt with a print of Dragonball Z. It must have been a borrowed shirt, as I knew Jamie didn''t watch the show. Despite his height, the over-large shirt made him look significantly younger than the 17 he was. He stepped out onto the porch, but I noticed he warily searched the street, and he kept the front door open and in sight.

    "Are you okay?" I began, as I stepped back and to the side, giving him space.

    "Yeah. Fine." He responded listlessly. His eyes continued to look everywhere but in my direction.

    "I heard what happened from Mai," I began vaguely, but Jamie quickly turned to the side, averting his face when I mentioned his sister''s name.

    "Can I help somehow?" I offered after a silence.

    "I dunno," he replied curtly, still facing away. "What can you do?" A flat-voiced challenge.

    I breathed for a moment, hating this. All of it. Why were people so messy and difficult? A flash of irritation rose up, and I pushed it back down. That wouldn''t help.

    "Mai''s worried," I tried again, but he interrupted, shooting a glare in my direction.

    "Oh, Mai''s worried. Oh, then for God''s sake, let''s drop everything and fix it for Mai." He bit out his words, and looked at me with narrowed and wet eyes.

    "She is," I replied weakly, off balance from the unexpected attack.

    "What about you, Kris? Hunh? What are you feeling?" He turned to face me directly. He was about the same height as me, and of the same wiry build, but wider. As he stepped forward I involuntarily backed up, "Did you tell her you want to fuck her yet?"

    I slapped him. Hard. I don''t know why. My hand moved. It was like I was just watching it happen. I was breathing hard, staring at my rapidly reddening palm. I still felt the stinging, prickling pain pulse through the fingers and the bones of my hand. Jamie''s cheek was turning scarlet, in the same spot where Mai''s bruise was just starting to fade.

    "Fuck you and your sympathy. Fuck Mai," he spat. His eyes were fierce, tears leaking down.

    "She didn''t know!" I yelled at him. "It was an accident, she didn''t know anything until you made a scene!"

    "So my life''s ruined now because of a fucking accident?" He glared. "I can''t go home because my parents think I''m a sinner. I called Mom, she said she ''loves me unconditionally'', but she can''t accept. Who. I. Am!" He punctuated the air between us with a jabbing index finger, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Dad fucking turned off my phone! I don''t have a home anymore! What do I care what Mai feels?" His speech grew louder and louder, and I shrunk back.

    "She wants to help," I began again, my voice quiet and small.

    "Then she can leave me the fuck alone!" he screamed, shaking.

    After that, his friend''s mom came out, folded her arms in a worn but firm pose, and asked me to leave. I did.

    I didn''t tell Mai. I heard later that she''d talked to Jamie somehow, that he said he never wanted to see her again. She told me she went back home once to get some things, to move out. But Jamie was long gone by then.

    ? ? ?

    Inside my apartment, I dropped my laptop bag and duffle on a chair and moved to the little kitchenette. It was a modest 1 bedroom, with a connected kitchen and great room taking up most of the square footage in front. I''d bought a small Ikea table to create some separation, and there was a sofa, coffee table, TV, and various media equipment in front, but it still felt a little cavernous and empty for its small size. I occasionally dabbled in baking and crafting homemade herbal infusions in the kitchen, but that was about it. The bedroom was less than a third of the size, but felt packed with my desk, wardrobe, and bed. I holed up there when I was home for any length of time.

    I pulled out a bottle of soju from the refrigerator door and a little glass cup from the slick white melamine cupboard. I poured the glass almost full, then took both bottle and glass to the small table and sat down. The cool liquid poured down my throat, leaving a lingering grapefruit and alcohol fume to permeate my mouth. I poured another glass.

    That foreign man at Mai''s place was unexpected. Mai and I hadn''t talked much recently, but I knew she''d had a boyfriend or two over time. Mai hadn''t lived with anyone before, as far as I knew. Maybe I''m reading too much into it.

    It wasn''t my business. Mai was an adult. So was I for that matter. We were so busy, we rarely had a chance to see each other. But that didn''t keep me from turning it over and over in my mind. In the end, I finished the second glass, more measured this time, and still hadn''t sorted out my thoughts on the matter.

    If the man was Mai''s current¡­ partner, that was a good thing, I finally concluded. Mai didn''t seem like she should be alone right now. She hadn''t mentioned any pain, but she must still be recovering from the accident. And having someone around after getting screwed over at work has to be beneficial, too.

    The image of Mai waving at her front door with a stretched smile and those ill-fitting hospital scrubs flashed in my mind. How her muscles tensed when we hugged. She had to still be in significant pain from her injuries, even if she had painkillers from the hospital. Her body warmth felt a little hot to me through the thin fabric. I could tell how distressed she was, even though she was trying to hide it.

    What if that foreign man wasn''t actually staying there? Maybe he was only visiting? Or maybe he wasn''t that close. It would be just like Mai to hint otherwise to deflect any pity or concern. That was both a relief and a worry. Would Mai be okay all weekend? She might need some prescriptions picked up if she was by herself. Could she even get something to eat? She could always have something delivered, but could she afford that while she was unemployed?

    More and more potential complications arose as I sat there, drinking and thinking. By the time I finished the bottle, I''d made up my mind to drop by tomorrow. Just to check in. See if she needed a meal, or errands run. The alcohol fuzzed in my brain. Even if that guy is still there, Mai might need something she couldn''t ask him. Something only a close friend could help with. I laid my head on the table and pushed the empty glass around with my finger. A felt a sloppy smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as different scenes played out in my mind.

    And if he''s bothering her, I thought, droopy eyes glancing over at the duffle¡­ maybe I could play hero for her.

 Sidestory: Eloquentia Ex Silentio

    Mai took her leave and departed the room. We were uncertain as to Our Hero''s true intent, but We respected her decision in this matter. We would have preferred, however, that she had chosen to inform Us beforehand. She had shown us the invitation to this event and its associated Quest, so We suspected her absence now was related. We looked to her companion, Ms.Patel, to see what she would do next.

    Ms. Patel was glancing about the room, her eyes slightly wide and her lips pressed together in some form of determination. We witnessed Mai enabling the Follow the Leader skill earlier, and presumed her companion was experiencing the skill''s effects. It was an appropriate choice for an event or challenge, with its supportive factor and lengthy duration ¨C provided no other Focus-using skills were enabled, of course. Its use in combat encounters within a shorter time frame was also appropriate, as a general buff to allies'' strengths alongside other skills. We wondered what abilities of Ms. Patel''s Our Hero had meant to empower, or if she expected combat to occur? It was unclear, given her lack of skills and low initial level. Mai must have desired an enhancement to an attribute rather than a skill. We did not have enough context to be certain.

    We were also uncertain why We are with Ms. Patel rather than Our Hero. Our general intent is to stay close to Our Hero in case she was in need of assistance, but with Mai''s departure this intention was impeded. We inferred that Mai wished Us to remain near to Ms. Patel, though she did not articulate why. We would proceed in support of her unstated intent, and in faith of Our Hero''s destiny. We lamented, again, the restriction We had placed upon telepathy at the outset. But the wisdom of that decision was equally apparent ¨C We found that the desire to intrude occurred with great frequency.

    And this was the crux of Our conundrum. How should We support Our Hero while preserving her choice and agency? At what point does ''support'' become influence? It was a precarious path to tread ¨C fortunately, Paths were a part of Our Dominion.

    "I''ll have a Syrah," Ms. Patel told the well dressed servant behind the tall table. Then she looked at Us. For approval? Acceptance? We inclined Our head in a gesture of agreement, and that seemed to satisfy her. "Two then," she informed the servant. They selected a bottle and poured a burgundy liquid into two glasses, and slid them toward Ms. Patel. Ms. Patel retrieved some paper currency and laid it on top of the table, collected her two glasses, smiled at Us and tilted her head toward the center of the room. We followed, and as We did Ms. Patel handed one of the glasses to Us.

    While Ms. Patel was searching the room for something, We eyed the glass container with mild distaste. We may have miscalculated. Our prior interaction with food was not enjoyable. The initial experience held Our interest, but the follow-through was less desirable. Perhaps We could simply taste the liquid and put it back in the glass. Based on Mai''s prior reaction, though, We should do so surreptitiously. Looking up, We noticed Ms. Patel seemed to have found what she was looking for, as she said "This way," and moved towards a small standing table at the side of the room that was currently unoccupied.

    "Okay," she began, "we might as well see what we can learn before Mai gets back." She took a sip from her wine, nervously wetting her lips.

    "We shall follow your lead," We acquiesced. We raised the glass to our lips as well, appreciating the deep aroma of some kind of fermented fruit, before setting it back down untasted.

    Ms. Patel looked at Us, seemingly taken back by Our response, then her brow wrinkled in thought.

    "How long have you known Mai, anyway?" she asked, turning to face Us directly for the first time tonight.

    "We have had Our eye on her for some time, but We have only recently met," We admitted.

    "Oh, was it for work?" Her eyebrows raised.

    Yes," We concurred.

    Ms. Patel seemed to be waiting for more. But when none was forthcoming, she prompted, "Are you some kind of recruiter then?"

    "Something like that," We inwardly applauded Ms. Patel for supplying an appropriate professional relationship.

    "Are you planning to pursue Mai now that she left Complyze?" She asked warily. Her concern was quite transparent.

    "Sadly, that opportunity is no longer available. We find Ourselves at loose ends at present," We soothed. We did not wish to become an impediment to their burgeoning relationship. She was providing quite a beneficial momentum to Our Hero at this critical time.

    "Oh," she replied, obviously trying not to sound too relieved. Then she looked toward Us with a new kind of appraisal. "Were you any good?"

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    We smiled sharply back with narrowed eyes, which Ms. Patel responded to with a grin of her own.

    "If this new company thing works out, we may need to recruit more people," she held out her glass.

    "We are quite certain of that," We concurred, raising Our own in turn.

    Clink.

    ? ? ?

    I sat next to Iter in a line of folding chairs, still holding my half-full wineglass in my lap. The presentation was surprisingly interesting, at least the technical parts. Some of it I was even familiar with from our prior project with IHS, but there were some newer applications and use cases for their hardware integrations I hadn''t considered before. They even had some technical applications I hadn''t seen at the university research labs, which were pretty out there. IHS engineers knew their stuff, at least.

    I wasn''t sure how much Iter followed, though he at least listened with polite interest to the speaker. He was a presence both calming and difficult. His mannerisms were regal and detached, as if he floated above it all. When Mai was around, he seemed to fade into the background. But sitting here, next to him, I felt myself constantly aware of my posture and movements compared to his apparently effortless composure. It was stressful, frankly. Are all Swiss like this? I concentrated on the presentations in an effort to put him out of my mind.

    As soon as there was a break, I took my wine and made my way purposefully to the side tables where the IHS reps were standing. The two men hadn''t seen me yet, and were in the middle of some idle conversation. I don''t know whether it was the excitement of taking action, or a desire to show how capable I could be, but I was feeling energized. I saw Iter following elegantly out of the corner of my eye, but kept walking.

    "Good evening gentlemen. How''s the night going so far?" I opened, and the two of them turned our direction.

    "Hello there," one of them began automatically, a toothy smile appearing brightly from behind a dark, curly beard. "Going great so far, how were the presentations? PleyAR doing some groundbreaking things, right?"

    "Loved their story! Really cool to see what IHS has done for them." I purred.

    "I''m Noni, by the way," the bearded man reached out to shake my hand.

    "And Andy, " added the younger, but taller man, with a hair full of product. "What company are you with?"

    "Bushra," I replied, shaking both hands in turn. "We''re with Complyze. Thought we drop by and see how our friends at IHS are doing." Iter stood slightly back and to my right. He made no effort to approach or introduce himself, which seemed to throw the men off.

    "Complyze?" The one named Andy raised his eyebrows at his partner. "That''s funny, we were just talking about you folks." He smiled as if that made us friends.

    "Oh really? Good things I hope?" I encouraged him.

    "Of course, of course!" The other one, Noni, exchanged looks with his partner. "We heard our companies were getting pretty close."

    "I''ve heard the same. Thought I''d come by to check it out myself." I smiled as brightly as I could.

    "What do you do for Complyze?" Though his smile never dropped, I could see a little nervousness in his eyes when I mentioned my interest.

    "I''m in Engineering. I worked with IHS recently on an integration we were doing," I saw a little easing in their expressions. Were they expecting something else? "Do you know Arnon Golokha or James Chiang?" I surprised myself with how easily I recalled a couple of names of the engineers I''d worked with on their team.

    "I know Arn and James ¨C smart guys, know their stuff."

    "Sure do," I could practically see their body language loosen. "So I thought I''d come by and see what IHS was like. You know, since we''re so close. What do you do?"

    "We''re both in Solutions Engineering. Why else would we be here on a Saturday night, amiright?" Andy grinned at Noni, who chuckled along.

    I laughed appreciatively, "So true!" I decided to give a little information on my end, see what happened. "You know, there''s been a bit of a shake up at Complyze."

    "Really?" That garnered some alert attention. Andy practically leaned forward across the table.

    "Yeah, a realignment of teams, focusing on new product lines." I continued, keeping a conspiratorial smile in place. It was strangely easy, this conversation. I was inwardly agape at my glibness ¨C it was as if I could read their body language and expressions directly, and knew how they would react. It was electrifying. I might be good at this.

    "Oh yeah?" Noni wasn''t smiling anymore, but he licked his lips in anticipation.

    "Seems like big moves for our company. Word is IHS and Complyze have a thing going." I pitched my voice quieter, prompting the men to lean in even more.

    "We''ve heard something similar¡­ " Noni glanced at Andy, and the younger man nodded his head.

    "Was hoping to hear from some folks at IHS, given our companies''¡­ special relationship." I couldn''t believe how well this was going. I practically had to stop myself from winking at them like some espionage caricature. But whatever it was was working.

    "Well," I swear, Noni actually looked from side to side like a snitch in a bad cop film. Is this really happening? "We hear that relationship is going to get closer real soon. Some of the guys were thinking it might go further." Andy was completely silent now, trying to watch both Noni and us at the same time.

    "How much further?" I prodded.

    "If what I heard holds up," Noni paused to peer at both of us, before continuing as quietly as could still be heard against the noisy background of the event, "acquisition."

    My smile never left my lips, but I almost asked him to repeat himself as I couldn''t believe I''d heard that correctly. Acquisition? Like, buying IHS? Or would IHS buy Complyze? That''s way beyond what I expected. I was buzzing with how easily this was happening, and I turned to look at Iter standing slightly behind me. He was looking back at me with an approving smile of his own. I took a small sip of my nearly forgotten drink to hide my surprise, before I turned back to the table.

    "That''d be quite the thing, wouldn''t it?" I raised my eyebrows and replied noncommittally, keeping my smile fixed in place. They both smirked to each other as if it was a confirmation.

    "So," Andy chimed in with an eager grin, "we were wondering what the Sales comp plan was like at Complyze?"

    "Do you know how territories are assigned?" Noni added.

 Chapter 18: Levels of Exhaustion

    "I''m home." I called out wearily from the hall after opening the front door. It felt odd ¨C it''s been a while since I had anyone to call out to. Maybe not since I left my parents place.

    I could see the light from the living room, and heard a distracted "Welcome back, Mai." Video game music at low volume floated into the hallway.

    Entering the brightly lit room, I saw the refection of the tv screen against the pitch black exterior windows. Iter was leaning forward, controller in hand, entirely focused on the images moving briskly across the screen. I sighed and dropped into the lounge chair. Annoyance at Iter''s disinterest warred briefly with my fatigue, but fatigue won.

    It was well past midnight. It had seemed like an eternity waiting for the ambulance and police to arrive at Jon''s house, but everything was a blur after that. I remember getting up to meet the responders at the door, and showing them to where Jon lay. People came and left, and we tried to stay out of the way, unsure of what to do and mostly ignored. Eventually we were moved outside by police officers who separated us and took our individual statements. There wasn''t much to say.

    We were contacted by Jon around 6pm. He wanted to talk about our work. We were recently laid off from the same company. Complyze. I don''t know the corporate phone number off the top of my head. I don''t know what Jon wanted, exactly. I suppose I was hoping Jon could help somehow. Bushra was the one who talked to him. We arrived at maybe 6:45pm? Were concerned because the door opened when we knocked. We heard something in the back, a window or door closing? No answer when we called out. We went inside, heard the shower running, bathroom door open. Found Jon¡­ Yes, what you wrote down is accurate. Sign here? Okay. Then they checked my ID and address, searched my purse. I wrote down my phone number for them. I agreed to make myself available, if contacted. No, I wasn''t going anywhere. No, there was nothing else. No, I wasn''t hurt. Yes, I do have a ride home, thank you.

    I waited a little while after the officer left, standing awkwardly in the driveway. Another officer was in the process of setting up some yellow barrier tape around the edges of the property, and I could see a few curious onlookers already peeking in from the boundary. Bushra was a little distance away, at the end of the garage, still talking to the other officer. She had her arms wrapped her torso, as if she was cold. She had the same unfocused look in her eyes she''d had since we discovered Jon.

    This made no sense.

    Jon, taking his life? Why call us? Or rather, Bushra?

    Someone else was there. I couldn''t very well tell anyone I saw them on my map, but we both heard the door in the back. Somebody was there before us. I looked at the front door. It had been open. I noticed the video door bell again, inset off to the side ¨C surely that would show whoever was there first.

    Did they kill Jon? Why? Was it related to Bushra and I getting framed in some way? Someone covering it up? Why? Who?

    While my thoughts were cycling around like that, Bushra walked over. The officer she had been talking to was now conferring with a newcomer in plainclothes. Based on their body language, the newcomer was higher rank.

    "They said we can go home." Bushra was looking unfocused toward the pavement, still hugging her sides.

    "Are you okay?" I asked.

    "No," she answered shakily. "I just want to get out of here."

    "Want me to drive?" I offered. She didn''t seem in a good frame of mind to be behind the wheel. I wondered if I was.

    "Sure," she said, still not looking at me directly, and pulled her keys out and handed them over.

    It was an eerily quiet drive to her home. Bushra gave me her address to enter into my phone GPS app, then seemed to retreat further into herself in the passenger seat. I was worried. Since I showed up at the caf¨¦ ¨C no, since she called me before that ¨C she''d been entirely unlike the animated and aggressive young woman who confronted me yesterday. But I was at a loss for how to help. I was struggling to keep my own thoughts from flying apart.

    I parked in her driveway, and saw her to the front door. "I''ll call you tomorrow," I handed her the keys, and squeezed her arm to get a reaction. "We''ll figure it out. Get some sleep." She finally focused on me and nodded once, before ducking inside. I contacted a ridesharing service to get back to my car, then headed home. It was well after midnight by the time I returned.

    I looked over at the couch. Iter was still deeply engrossed in his game. I noticed he was near the end, the final act where the villain was on the run and you were chasing him to the ultimate showdown. I wished it was like that in real life. This felt hollow and messy.

    I hadn''t wanted to call attention to myself when we were around the police, and then my worry for Bushra and the drive home took up my attention. Now safely in my living room, I opened my phone and looked at the picture I took of Jon''s note. No one had asked me about it. I assume the police found it, but I had wanted to make sure I could read it firsthand, and I wasn''t sure I''d have another opportunity. Especially since it has been marked on my map. It said:

    I''m sorry, first and foremost, to my family, for not being strong enough. They do not deserve this shame I have and will put them through. I hope they will forgive me someday for my weakness.

    I''m sorry to the people at Complyze, and to its shareholders that I let down. I failed in my duty to them. I don''t ask for or deserve their forgiveness. I do ask that those I have wronged are exonerated. I am wholly to blame. No one else should be made to suffer.

    I participated in a scheme to defraud the company, and then to cover it up. The documents included with this letter are proof of my culpability.

    I am so sorry.

    I stared at the words in the picture. I didn''t know Jon''s handwriting well enough to say it was his, but it was clearly a confession. In the photo I saw the edges of some other papers peeking out underneath the notepad, but it was unclear what they were. The additional evidence, I presume? One of the edges seemed to resemble an invoice I''d become all to familiar with recently. But I couldn''t say for sure.

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    I flashed to the swiftly moving blue dot on my map, leaving Jon''s house. Did they come after, like we did? Someone else Jon contacted for closure? Or was it more sinister than that? Was he forced to confess like this? What happened between when he contacted Bushra and we arrived? Who was that?

    "Mai?" I looked up and saw Iter''s silver eyes staring back at me in concern.

    "What?" I replied in momentary confusion.

    "You did not answer Us," he searched my face. "What has happened?"

    I struggled to craft an answer to describe the night''s events. "Jon''s dead," I blurted out eventually.

    Iter furrowed his brow slightly. "Ms. Patel''s former manager," he stated calmly, "who you were to meet tonight."

    "Yes," I confirmed. "He was either killed or killed himself, I don''t know which. We found him. We had to wait for the police to finish with us before we could come home."

    "What do you wish to do now?" He seemed unfazed by the news, his tone as flat as if asking what I wanted for dinner tonight.

    I hated that. I wanted to claw at that indifference, scream at him for taking this so lightly, for putting all of it on me. I clenched my jaw shut on some hard words rising like bile form my throat. "I''m going to make some coffee," I replied curtly. And couldn''t help adding, "You can keep playing your game, I guess. A man only died, after all."

    I escaped the room and leaned against the kitchen counter next to the coffee machine. I bit down hard while I waited for the heat in my brain to subside. I gradually forced it down, where it remained just below the surface. Until I felt like I could manage assembling a cup of coffee without throwing things across the floor. I punched buttons, and the machine started hissing as the water boiled.

    It''s been three days since I was laid off. Well, four days now, I guess, looking at the microwave clock. How could it only be that long?

    In that time I''d been accused of theft, hit by a truck, summoned by a god to be a hero, who was now living in my apartment playing fucking video games. A former coworker asked me to help start a company, I formed a party with her, found a bunch of loose cash and jewelry around town, leveled up and accepted a quest, which took me to a marketing event by the supplier who I was accused of extorting, found some ''clues'', was almost caught, and passed out in the lobby. I spent most of today testing out the app with Iter and the gang at Epic Encounters, before Bushra called me to confront Jon, and we found him dead.

    The coffee finished dribbling into the cup I''d set down, and I clutched at it. I took a sip and burnt my mouth, then set the cup back down on the counter.

    Oh yeah, and I leveled up again.

    Fuck.

    I felt a presence behind me, and held myself from turning around.

    "What do you want, Iter?" I pried my jaw open to ask.

    "We wish to help," I heard him say quietly, inquiringly.

    I put my palm on my forehead as if to smooth the furrows of my brow. I shook my head slightly, and turned slowly around, meeting his concerned gaze with a hard look.

    "How can you help?" I fought to keep my voice level. "I''m honestly asking. ''Cause right now, I could really use some fucking help." A part of me knew I was being unfair, but I couldn''t help it. "So. What have you got?" The anger boiled in me, and it needed, it demanded an outlet.

    His eyes flicked back and forth. Then without warning he reached out and carefully wrapped his arms around me. I stiffened involuntarily, my mind whited-out, wholly unprepared and in shock. It was a gentle embrace, his arms gingerly cradling my form like a delicate glass latticework, as if afraid I would shatter from the slightest pressure. His hands lightly touched my spine and the back of my head. I could hear his soft silken sleeves sliding delicately against the thin cotton of my blouse. My face was pressed lightly against his collar bone, and I unconsciously breathed in his mild and oddly sweet scent, like incense and vanilla. My neck was rigid, air caught in my lungs, and my eyes were wide and hot.

    "You are hurting still." His voice was gentle, and I could feel the reverberations of his chest and throat against my cheek. "We cannot remove the pain, but We can perhaps help you find the Way past it." I could feel a stinging wetness in the corners of my eyes, and then embarrassment finally overcame my shock, and I pushed him hard away. I was breathing heavily, gasping for air.

    "What are you doing!" My anger was subsumed, engulfed in a deluge of roiling emotions churning in my chest. Iter stepped back, but stayed within arms reach. I felt the rounded edge of the kitchen counter pressing into the small of my back, and felt trapped. I couldn''t control my breathing.

    "Forgive Us. It seemed to Us that you needed comfort, so We attempted to provide it." The edges of his eyes and mouth drooped sadly. "We were wrong to obtrude."

    "Shit!" I spat, but entirely lacking force, "Ask first!" I held out a hand to ward him away, and struggled to regain my balance. What the hell!?

    "We apologize." One small corner of his mouth rose, but his troubled gaze continued to search my face. "We will remember."

    ? ? ?

    I was sitting in the lounge chair again, curled up around my cup of untasted coffee. I was still trying to figure out exactly what happened, but Iter was at least keeping his distance at the far end of the couch. The TV and console were off. The silence extended uncomfortably.

    "So, uh," I relented, unable to bear it any longer. "I''m not sure what happens now." My mind raced to put things back on track, away from the kitchen. "Jon left a note behind. This might have put to bed inmy legal problems, I think?" I fought my way through past the awkwardness, grasping for more to relay. "I completed the quest. And it looks like a new one came up." I opened up my journal and went to the prompt.

    New Quest.

    A Fractured Pride.

    Accept? Y/N

    I hadn''t accepted it yet. Did I need to?

    "Do you know what this is about?" I asked, looking at Iter directly for the first time. I held my breath, half expected him to come over and look at my screen directly. But thankfully he stayed put.

    "We do not. What occurred to trigger it?" Iter seemed as cool and calm as always. It was infuriating, but I was passed tired at this point.

    "I''m not sure? It popped up right after completing the previous one, after¡­ after everything at Jon''s." I thought back, uncomfortably. Did it show up after we found Jon? After finding the note? I parsed through my weary memory, then had an idea. I opened my Journal. "It seemed to be after Bushra started crying," I commented out loud, then closed my mouth in embarrassment. ''Both of you, making me see that again,'' she''d said. I was puzzled by what she meant for a moment. Then I guiltily remembered she was there at the scene of my initial accident. I was less enamored by the Journal right now. Perfect recall of all the ignominious things you''d done, intentionally or not, was hard to absorb.

    "There is no harm in accepting the quest." Iter spoke after a brief pause. "Perhaps you will gain some insight on the direction to take once it has been accepted." He smiled wanly. "You can always reject it or ignore it after."

    Hmm. Well, I asked him about it. It seemed petty to ignore what he said. I went ahead and accepted the quest.

    A Fractured Pride. ¨C Accepted.

    Nothing earth shattering happened. I checked my map, and saw no new quest markers. Guess I''ll have to wait and see. I wondered idly whose pride was fractured. Seems like mine was taking a pounding recently. I futilely chided myself to do better going forward, and looked back up at Iter. "Also, I leveled up. And it seems like Bushra leveled up, too? What''s that about?"

    A wide smile grew on Iter''s face as he beamed at me. "It means you are on the right Path, Our Hero!"

 Chapter 19: Companion Relationships

    I woke up with an ache in my back, resting at an odd angle. I wanted to turn over, but something was blocking me. A stuffy weight was pressing down and I couldn''t dislodge it as I tried to stretch. I opened one eye a crack.

    "Ugh, Taiga." I mumbled, trying to turn over. I felt her claws gripping harder into my side as she attempted to roll with my movement. I settled onto my back, and she nestled down in a new location on my stomach. She stared at me with slitted eyes, annoyed.

    I realized with surprise I was sleeping on the couch. The comforter from my bed was draped half on my and half on the floor, a rough silk throw pillow under my head. I looked around bleary eyed. I''d left my contacts in overnight, I discovered. I could see, but everything had a weird sticky halo around it. I squinted against the sun coming in through the blinds. By the brightness of the glare, it was morning?

    I tried to turn and sit up, but Taiga was having none of it. She clung on like a sailor in a storm, waiting for the choppy waters to pass. She ended up draped at an angle across my body, her forepaws on my collar bone. I was slouched halfway down the couch to avoid further action by the claws. This was no good. I used one hand to lift her front paws up and away from my body, and maneuvered her form onto my lap so I could sit up straight. Taiga promptly yawned and stretched. Then with a last disgruntled look, hopped down and exited the room.

    "Good morning," Iter announced. He was sitting in the lounge chair, leaning slightly forward with the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. He was resting his head in his palm, leaning with an elbow on the chair arm and watching me with a grin

    "''Morning," I mumbled. "W''time izzit?"

    " A little after 9am." A slight crease appeared between his eyebrows. "You were worn out," he observed.

    I absorbed with shock that I''d fallen asleep in the same room as someone else for the first time in¡­ well, I couldn''t remember. There was only one thing for it. "Coffee," I mumbled, and as if by miracle, a cup was placed before me. Well, it counts as a miracle if a god does it, I suppose. "Thanks," I offered, and took the cup in both hands for a sip. It was still warm, though not quite hot. It was black and bitter, and I must have made a face.

    "Is it not acceptable?" He asked, a note of consternation in his voice. "We reproduced the actions We observed you take to prepare this concoction. Quite accurately, or so We believed."

    I wasn''t able to deal with a sulky god this early. "Sugar." I said, threw the comforter open, and carried the cup to the kitchen.

    I returned with the coffee appropriately doctored, and synapses firing more rapidly on glucose and caffeine. I observed the room containing the downcast god.

    "Thanks," I said quietly. "For the coffee, and for the blanket." I started to roll the comforter up in my arms to return it to my room. "I''m sorry for conking out on you like that."

    Truthfully, I didn''t remember much of what happened after accepting the quest and talking about leveling up. I remember deciding to wait to look through the options, but everything after that was fuzzy.

    I suddenly recalled Iter hugging me in the kitchen, and felt my cheeks grow hot. That was unexpected. That I could so easily fall asleep after that with Iter still in the room illustrated just how exhausted I must have been. I quickly moved past Iter with the comforter and brought it to my bed. I paused to regain some composure in the limited privacy of my bedroom. I felt a burst of irritation spread through my body, warring with the embarrassment. I forced myself to examine my memories of the event. It didn''t seem like he was making a move on me. It felt more¡­ comforting? Consoling? It was scary. My heart started beating more rapidly thinking out it.

    I shook it off. Whatever all that was, it was a problem for another day. I was starting to head back to the front room, still unsure if I would confront the god about last night or let it pass, when the doorbell rang.

    Frowning, I walked down the hall to the door. Feeling a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, I saw the silhouette of a person through the frosted exterior window. I double-checked that I was still wearing the same outfit I had on last night, a little rumpled but otherwise fine. Curiosity rising, I opened the door.

    "Hi Mai," Bushra smiled sheepishly at my raised brows and wide eyes. "Can I hang here for a bit?" She raised a long, flimsy white box in her hands. "I brought doughnuts."

    ? ? ?

    Bushra was sitting on my couch, dressed in professional attire, with a laptop satchel on her lap. I was seated in my desk chair, moved to sit diagonally across from her. The box of doughnuts sat unopened on the coffee table between us. She looked awkwardly from side to side. Iter had stepped away, saying something about checking on Taiga.

    "So, uh," She began, eyes darting about. "I kinda haven''t told my parents that I don''t have a job yet. I couldn''t think of anywhere else to go, so I ended up here." For the first time she looked up and focused on me. "I''m sorry, did I wake you or anything?"

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    "No, I woke up a little bit ago," I said. An inopportune yawn formed, and I struggled unsuccessfully to smother it. "Do you want any coffee? Or wait, it was tea, right? I can get some," I stood, and started for the kitchen.

    "No, I''m okay," She raised a hand quickly to forestall my trip. "I went through a drive-thru espresso spot on the way over."

    "Ah," I aborted my mission, and sat gingerly back down.

    "Sorry for the unexpected visit." she leaned forward.

    "No, its all right." I slumped in the chair, at a loss for what to say next.

    Silence dragged out. I retrieved my cup and took a sip. It was rapidly reaching room temperature, but it was something to busy my hands with. What''s this about?

    "Uhm, thanks for taking me home last night. I was kinda out of it." Her fingers fiddled with the cords attached to the zipper on her satchel.

    "It was a rough night all around." I deflected, and sipped again, unsure how to proceed.

    Bushra exhaled a long slow, breath. "I can''t really thank you enough. I''ve dragged you into my mess, forced my ideas on you, you haven''t even healed all the way yet." It all came out in a rush. "I thought we were in the same situation, had the same problems." Her eyes still couldn''t land anywhere, as if following some imaginary fly zipping around the table and floor. "But that''s not true." She finally looked up at me, eyes locked in place. "You came with me to Jon''s, and that happened¡­ " She faltered, her gaze dropping.

    I waited to see if the flood had passed. Looking closely, I noticed beneath her makeup her eyes were puffy and tinged with red. I wondered if she''d slept at all. If she could. I felt a twinge of guilt in my chest.

    "I''m fine," I asserted, pushing aside thoughts of bathrooms, kitchens, and couches. I reached over and laid a gentle hand on hers. "You''re not to blame. I make my own choices." I sat back again and searched for a brighter topic. "Your ARC is the real deal. I don''t think I had a chance to tell you, but I spent a good part of yesterday putting it to the test with some people I know, and it was pretty amazing. Everyone was excited."

    Bushra sat back, obviously not expecting this turn in the conversation. A weak smile tugged at her lips. "Really?"

    "Truly. I haven''t transcribed all my notes yet, but there was a lot of feedback and ideas. All positive." I wasn''t exaggerating either. There were suggestions for improvement, of course, but all of it delivered with passion and enthusiasm. "I''ve run full-fledged betas and never heard such fervor from the users. I should have you drop in on the next session to see for yourself. Nothing like customers using the product to get the motivation pumping." I smiled. I''d have to see when Laci might be free again. We likely couldn''t get everyone together like before, but maybe Laci could rope in one or two others.

    Bushra put a hand over her mouth, and her eyes crinkled in a grin¡­ along with a hint of wetness. Uh, that''s not what I expected.

    "No, it''s okay, ugh," Bushra waved frantically at her face. "You just¡­god," She looked upwards toward the ceiling. "You never do what I expect." She chuckled dryly, blinking her eyes rapidly. "This is weird, but you make me feel¡­ safe. Supported." She beamed at me through an uncertain and unstable gaze, but never stopped smiling.

    Now it was my turn to look away uncomfortably.

    "Well, speaking of safe," I knew we''d have to broach this topic eventually, and Bushra seemed a little sturdier now. "I think that''s what Jon was trying to do yesterday. I don''t condone what he did," I added hastily. "But I think he tried to make amends. Did you see the note he wrote?" I asked. I''m not sure how she could have, but maybe the police showed it to her or something.

    Bushra''s face went stiff, and she swallowed and shook her head.

    "Jon confessed to lying about your situation, and took the blame. He wanted to apologize. To you, his family, to everyone."

    Bushra''s jaw bunched. Then, slowly, I could see the muscles visibly relax. "Still a coward. He couldn''t even face me and tell me at the end." Her voice was harsh, but her eyes looked sad.

    I kept quiet about the other person I saw on Location. I didn''t know who it was or what they were doing there, whether they had a role in Jon''s death, or just came upon the body like us. I couldn''t I explain it, and wasn''t sure how it would change anything, anyway.

    "But that means you''re free and clear. In fact, you likely have full rights to your app now due to wrongful termination. I''m not sure of the contract details, of course, but Jon''s confession pulls the rug out from under them. They might even be forced to offer you your old job back." I lifted a corner of my mouth in a weak grin.

    Bushra seemed stunned by that revelation. Then she made a sour face. "There''s no way I''m going back there. I couldn''t work for them again, after what they said and did."

    "Well, I don''t blame you there. But you''ll have your app, the bonus they gave you, and maybe even some kind of settlement coming. They won''t want to lose the rights to that app under any circumstances." I looked at her sidelong, gauging her reaction.

    Her gaze was serious now, and focused inward. I could see her thinking through the implications, her world re-orienting.

    "Hunh," she managed at last. "That''s interesting." Her voice didn''t sound excited. It sounded puzzled.

    "What is it?" I asked.

    "Nothing, I just¡­ It doesn''t feel like I thought it would." She focused on me. "ARC was my dream since joining Complyze. Then, it was the means for getting back at them." She scrunched up her face. "I''m not sure what it is anymore." She sat for a moment in silence, thinking. "Maybe I can¡­ "

    The doorbell rang again.

    "Sorry, Bushra. Seems like it''s my day for visitors." I levered myself out of the chair. "I''ll be right back."

    I went to the hall, when I saw Iter had already opened the door. "Greetings Ms. Dougherty! You are welcome to join Us!" Though I couldn''t see it from behind, I could sense the brilliance of Iter''s perfect smile pointed at the guest.

    Kris was on the doorstep, staring at Iter with a mix of confusion and annoyance. She was wearing a pair of grey dress slacks and a ivory white blouse ¨C her ''workwear'' she''d once described it. She was holding a thin, flimsy, and pink cardboard box. "Uh, is Mai home?"

 Chapter 20: Party Interaction

    "Kris! What are you doing here?" I called out, perhaps a little too forcefully.

    Kris spotted me behind Iter, and maneuvered her way with the box around the bemused god, over to me.

    "Mai! You''re looking well!" Kris beamed at me, looking me up and down over the top of her box. "I was in a baking mood last night, and ended up making way too much. So I thought you could help me finish off the extras." Her eyes were a little too bright.

    Kris bakes?

    Kris was all smiles as she swept past me. "Do you mind if I take these to the kitchen? Some of these taste better warmed up."

    But her advance to the kitchen was stalled abruptly. Bushra had followed the commotion and was standing in the entrance to the hallway, watching inquisitively.

    I couldn''t see Kris''s face well from behind, but her back was suddenly tense.

    "Uh, hi. I''m Bushra," Bushra said with an awkward wave. Then added, "Mai''s partner," as if that explained anything.

    "Partner!" Kris echoed, more loudly than necessary. Kris craned her neck back to look at me. Her smile was still in place, but it was frozen now, and didn''t match the widening of her eyes.

    "This is the colleague I mentioned before," I responded to Kris'' unspoken question. "She wrote the app that we''re basing our business on."

    Kris'' brows went up even higher, but her mouth made an ''oh'' of recognition. Immediately, her smile was back in place, although her eyes were narrowed.

    "Oh, so you''re Mai''s coworker," she said, turning back to Bushra. "Kris Doughtery." She shifted the box to cradle it with her left arm, and reached out to Bushra with her right. As Bushra took her hand in response, Kris added, "I''m Mai''s good friend since we were kids." Kris quickly released Bushra''s handshake. "Well, I suppose I made enough for one more. Excuse me," she said as she bustled off to the kitchen.

    Bushra looked like she''d swallowed something unpleasant. "Your good friend has a lot of energy," she remarked quietly.

    Not knowing what to say, I smiled, perplexed, and followed Kris. I noticed Iter elected to remain with Bushra.

    Kris had set down her box on the kitchen table. She stood staring at the open box with pursed lips and a slight wrinkle to her forehead. She looked up when I came in.

    "So, whaddya bring?" I started lightly, unsure of my friend''s mood.

    "Well, you know, a bit of this and that." Her face relaxed. "Once you get started, it''s hard to stop."

    I''d never had that experience with cooking of any kind. In the box were a number of items, filled to the brim and stacked on top of each other. I saw what looked like lemon bars, scones, mini fruit galettes, and some tiny quiches in cute little round tins. It was incredible.

    "You made all this?" I breathed, in awe. "I never knew you baked."

    "Really? I started in college, once I had a place of my own with an oven. It was a more economical option to eating out ¨C at least, that''s what I thought at the time." She paused in wry remembrance. "Turns out you waste a lot of ingredients in the beginning. But it was a surprisingly relaxing break during finals." Kris made a somewhat embarrassed smile. "You can work out a lot of frustration with a spatula and a whisk."

    "It looks amazing," I replied honestly. My stomach was stirring in anticipation.

    Kris'' overall body language softened, a pleased smile forming. "Wait until some of it is warmed up. Can I use your oven?" Without waiting for permission, she walked over to look at the oven''s controls.

    "So you came by to feed me baked goods?" I considered. "Isn''t it Monday? Don''t you have to work?" I looked at her, concerned

    "I told them I''d be in later," Kris responded over her shoulder. "I said I had a doctor''s appointment." She finished setting the oven temperature, and turned back to the box on the table. "Here, you can start on these while I get the others warmed," she said, as she started apportioning the various items. "Can you bring me some plates?"

    ? ? ?

    The smell of buttery crust and savory ingredients began to waft in from the kitchen. I was currently finishing off a glazed doughnut that Bushra''d brought while sitting on the couch. Bushra was seated awkwardly next to me, as Kris walked in with a plate and set it down in front of us. Then she made a motion for me to shift over, and sat down to my other side. I felt like the filling of a sandwich. Kris leaned over and pulled a lemon bar off the plate.

    "Feel free to help yourself," Kris directed to Bushra with a breezy smile.

    "Uh, thanks," Bushra replied, and leaned over herself to grab what looked something like a pecan pie, but in bar form. She bit into it carefully, but soon began taking even bigger bites, eyes wide with appreciation. "Thish is good!" She mumbled through mouthfuls.

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    "Glad you like it," Kris replied. She nibbled her own lemon bar with a satisfied expression. She seemed to notice the box of doughnuts for the first time. "Oh, I''m sorry, I didn''t realize you''d already brought food." I looked at her to see if she was being catty, but her expression was honestly apologetic. She looked over at me, "My food will keep until tomorrow, we should eat the doughnuts first." I guess baker instincts aside, Kris had the frugality of an accountant at heart.

    "No, its fine, I just picked those up on the way over. This food is amazing!" Bushra exclaimed, reaching for a lemon bar of her own.

    "Between the three of us, we''re plenty to tackle these treats. Let''s make it a brunch." I smiled.

    "Three of us," Kris repeated in confusion, then looked over at Iter. "Are you not joining?" Then she directed the question back to me, "Is Iter not joining us?"

    "Uh," I looked over at Iter and saw him smiling in a relaxed pose, but the discomfort in his eyes was clear to me. "Iter was about to step out. Sorry," I looked back at Kris, "We weren''t expecting company this morning."

    "We¡­" Kris breathed, but Bushra seemed to start at that.

    "I''m sorry, I showed up without any warning, either. If it''s not a good time, I could find somewhere else¡­ " Bushra''s words trailed off, and I could tell she was searching for alternatives. She didn''t slow down eating, though.

    "No, that''s not what I meant, you''re both welcome to stay! Iter has something else planned, that''s all." Yeah, spending the next hour not eating food was likely at the top of Iter''s plans. I glanced his way for confirmation.

    "You are correct. We should be making Our exit from this gathering." He stood and gave a small bow to Kris and Bushra. "Please, enjoy your repast. We shall meet another time."

    "Sorry, Iter," Bushra apologized unconvincingly over a mouthful of galette.

    Kris smiled in bemusement, then looked over at me. I realized belatedly that she was seeking a translation. "Oh, he said to enjoy ourselves, and he''d see you both another time."

    I saw Bushra looking quizzically between Kris and me, but I ignored it for the moment. I stood up and walked Iter over to the front door. Under my breath, I added, "Sorry, I didn''t mean to send you away. But, you know¡­ "

    "As delicious an experience as it appears, We are quite relieved to avoid a meal, or at least, it''s ingestion." He brushed aside my concerns genially. "We shall return after your repast is complete." He opened the door, gave a reassuring smile, and walked out. I wondered for a moment where he would go.

    Feeling like a mother sending her child out on their first errand alone, I returned to the front room. Kris was already standing, and moving toward the kitchen. "The quiche are probably ready," she said as she slipped by.

    I returned to my seat on the couch in the middle, a little awkwardly close to Bushra while saving the other space for Kris. I picked up a pecan bar to chew on in the silence. It really was amazingly good. When did Kris learn to do this? I recalled I hadn''t woken up early enough for my run this morning I glanced down at my belly as inconspicuously as possible. I promised myself I''d go running later today.

    Bushra seemed to have no such concerns as she polished off the galette. "So what''s Kris do?" She asked curiously.

    "Oh, Kris is a finance controller." Seeing Bushra''s blank expression, I added, "She''s like a lead accountant for her division." I guess Bushra didn''t deal much with accounting as an engineer?

    "Hm," Bushra grunted thoughtfully. "Is she any goo¡­" She began, when Kris returned.

    "I''m pretty damned good, as it happens." She smilingly set the second plate next to the first, this one with the mini quiches artfully arranged.

    "Ah, sorry, I was just¡­" Bushra waved her hands in a placating gesture, but Kris seemed unperturbed.

    "They''re a bit hot, but help yourself." Kris set down a stack of paper napkins she must have brought with her; I didn''t recognize them. She then sat down next to me, gingerly took a quiche and held it with a paper napkin. She then levered it out of the small aluminum tin and carefully took a bite.

    Bushra watched with some trepidation, but also anticipation. She quickly grabbed a napkin and quiche, and raised it to her mouth. "Mmm, so good!" She licked the flakey crumbs of crust off her lips and looked at the remaining quiche with admiration. "If you''re accounting''s half as good as your baking, you must be a genius!"

    Kris seemed a little discomfited by the praise. She used a finger to elegantly wipe a few bits of crust from the lifted corners of her mouth and finished her quiche. "So," she began, "Mai has told me barely anything about your app. What''s it do?" She smiled at Bushra politely.

    ? ? ?

    The sun was high enough that it no longer shone through the blinds, but the daylight bathed the room in a golden glow. The front of these old Victorian buildings were often chilly in the winter due to all the windows, but the sun had warmed the room nicely. Well, I''m sure the baseboard heaters helped, but that was more prosaic than I was feeling.

    The impromptu brunch buffet had wound down, but Kris and Bushra were now actively discussing the app. Even the doughnuts had been demolished. I''d taken out some orange juice and sparkling Moscato that I had in the fridge to assemble some make-do mimosas, and empty glasses now littered the table. Combined with the sunlight, carbohydrates, and lack of sleep, I was feeling a bit floaty.

    Each of the other two seemed to have their professional switch engaged, leaning forward on the couch to talk animatedly across me. Bushra waxed enthusiastically about the features and architecture of her application. Kris interjected from time to time with questions about where and how the app was hosted, how it was accessed and installed, and what kind of usage it had. I added my thoughts from time to time regarding user behavior and future enhancements that I''d gathered in my last sessions. It was more like a business meeting than a brunch, though the tightness of my slacks at the waist disagreed.

    "So," Kris leaned back. "What are your plans now?" She looked back and forth between Bushra and me.

    "Well, Bushra may not need to¡­ " I began, thinking about our prior conversation. It hadn''t been resolved entirely yet, but we likely weren''t under the threat of legal action anymore. Bushra had a lot of different options in that case.

    "I might have a source of funding I didn''t have before." Bushra interrupted, a wolfish grin on her face. "And we have some leverage with our old company now, too. Things are looking up!"

    "Hunh?" I blurted, but Bushra ignored me.

    "How about you?" Bushra directed her gaze at Kris. "We could use some pretty damn good financial advice. Are you available to consult?"

    I must have been gaping like a fish, but Kris returned Bushra''s grin with a impish one of her own. "Perhaps. My rates are pretty damn steep, though." She picked up the last bite of lemon bar and popped it in her mouth.

    Unsure what was happening or how, I was about to interject when the following notification appeared in my field of view:

    A new Party Member request was received.

    Accept? Y/N

 Chapter 21: Hoard Management

    The party request notification pulled at my attention, but I ignored it. "Wait a second." I stood up and moved a step or two away, so I could turn and look directly at both of them. "Bushra? Are you sure about this?"

    "Sure that I want to show those bastards at Complyze what my ARC can do? Abso-damn-lutely." She stood up and emphasized by stabbing her empty cup at the air.

    I shook my head. "But you can take it anywhere, now. There''s probably a few companies that would want to pick up you and your app, especially given what Complyze was prepared to do for it." I peered at her face, wanting to understand whether it was confidence or vengeance driving her. "That seems like a more certain way to success."

    From her seat on the couch, Kris looked thoughtful. "Hmm, maybe. But maybe not." She glanced back and forth between us. "I may not know all the details, but there was some kind of conflict or controversy around the app you built?" Bushra''s mouth twisted, but she nodded. "That could work both ways. You could get interested folks trying to seize the opportunity," she paused. "Or you could look like a big risk: of further litigation, of potential founder issues, or that Complyze found a way to walk because the app didn''t live up to the hype." Kris counted each point out on her fingers. Then she shook her head with a thin sardonic smile. "Investors like to think they are analytical and data-driven, but they are as swayed by emotion, rumor, and bias as much as everyone else."

    I could see Bushra''s jaw muscles bunch up as her lips pursed together.

    Kris noticed, and quickly continued, "What I mean to say, is if you believe in the product, bootstrapping your way to a viable company may be the most direct route." She leaned back and spread her arms on the back of the couch, and shrugged with a relaxed and confident smile. "Make the investors and doubters irrelevant."

    "Easier said that done." I commented. I narrowed my eyes at Kris. I rarely saw Kris in work mode. She was pushing, entirely unlike what I was used to. I wondered what she was angling for. Did she really want to join this company so badly?

    Kris shrugged again, and smiled back at my gaze. "Of course. Nothing worthwhile is ever easy."

    Bushra turned to Kris, and her brash grin was back in place. "Yeah! That''s right!"

    I could feel Kris staring up at me, now, eyes probing for something. "What do you want to do, Mai?"

    Bushra also looked at me, her face pleading.

    I exhaled slowly, looking down and away from their gaze. What did I want? When did that ever matter? Company executives and gods, pulling and pushing me this way and that. No one cares what I say. Play your part, play the role, be what we need. Then, poof, it''s gone. And Bushra and her app comes along, a new dream of someone else''s making. But it feels different? Like we''re dreaming it together. Like they can''t take it from us.

    Yesterday''s sessions with Laci and Ted were amazing ¨C more fun than I''d had in a while. Not only the games, but the tinkering with a new product, feeling the edges and limits of its capabilities, finding out what resonated with users. It felt like endless possibilities. Like it was too good to be true. Like gods and heroes. Magic and reincarnation. Nothing had felt real since Thursday morning. Maybe one more fantasy was okay?

    My focus fell on the waiting notification in the bottom corner of my view.

    "All right. Yeah. Let''s do this." I breathed, not daring to look up.

    "Yes!" Bushra actually pumped her fist. Kris was looking at me with a strange expression, her eyes crinkled with concern, but her mouth lifted in a warm grin.

    The notification changed to display: New Party Member: Kris Dougherty ¨C Accepted.

    That''s interesting. I hadn''t consciously accepted Kris''s invite. I didn''t know it could do that.

    Putting that aside, now that I''d committed I''d better start taking some action.

    "I have an errand to run for our new venture. Who wants to come with?"

    ? ? ?

    Yesterday morning had ended up being quite a profitable scavenger hunt. Aside from the assortment of shiny adornments I''d collected while running, Iter and I had managed to visit some additional loot markers in between breakfast at Rose''s and visiting Epic Encounters. My favorite find was the small container of what looked like actual gold coins. The material of the original container had deteriorated to the point where the 12 coin tubes had spilled out when I lifted it. The tubes themselves looked like semi-transparent, old school plastic film canisters, though wider and shorter. Looking inside one, I found a gold coin with a picture of Queen Elizabeth on one side, and a maple leaf on the other ¨C Canadian Maple Leaf coins. How the hell they ended up near the lagoon on the southern part of the island, and how they had remained undisturbed, I doubt I''ll ever know.

    I now had a somewhat suspicious-looking pile of varied jewelry, coins, and cash collected on my dresser. Rather than let it accumulate, it would be interesting to see how much my heavenly metal detector was worth. It seemed fitting that the seed money for our new company had a divine provenance.

    Kris and Bushra were apprehensive when I carried it all out in a heavy nylon messenger bag.

    "I know, it looks shady. But its simply a collection of old jewelry and coins from relatives that I never had time or motivation to do anything with." I opened the bag and we all peered inside. Yeah, it looked like a some kind of cat burglar''s haul.

    "I was thinking this might be a good time to turn it into something worthwhile. Not that it will make a dent in any startup costs. But every bit counts," I ended lamely. I was already regretting bringing this up. I pictured how inconsequential and embarrassing the total would be. I should have tossed it all in a drawer and forgotten about it.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    "Well, it couldn''t hurt," Kris said, eying the bag dubiously. "I have the time today, so we can get a couple bids and see what they offer. In the end, you don''t have to sell any of it if you''d rather hold onto it.

    I didn''t really want to keep any of it, though. "I''d appreciate the help in negotiating a price," I smiled weakly at my childhood friend. Kris matched my smile with faint one of her own.

    "Why don''t I go through it," Kris sighed in capitulation, and pulled the bag toward her. Bushra sat next to her, clearly intrigued.

    While they began sifting through what I had started to think of in my mind as ''the goods'', I excused myself to the bedroom so I could take care of another preparatory step: leveling up.

    <blockquote>

    Name: Mai Carrigan

    Race: Human

    Class: Hero

    Level: 3 (+)

    Condition: Normal

    Core Attributes (10 attribute points available)

    Body: 35 (x1.25 = 43)

    Spirit: 70 (x1.25 = 87)

    Mind: 55 (x1.25 = 68)

    Luck: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 43 (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Focus: 68 (+)

    Charm: 65

    Intuition: 56

    Will: 78

    Fate: ??? (+)

    Skills (2 skill points available)

    Communion of the Soul, Appraisal, Inventory, Divine Translation, Hero''s Journey, Champion of Light, Inner Eye, Adept of Ages, Fortune''s Favor, Swift Regeneration, Spiritual Harmony, Still Mind, Destiny''s Chosen, Inner Alchemy, Follow the Leader

    </blockquote>

    I had the same amount of attribute points to use, and I could pick 2 skills this time. I briefly considered maxing one of my attributes, specifically Mind. All of my active skills would use Focus, after all. But I decided to spilt the points between Body and Mind again, given the physical improvements I saw after my run yesterday. Would I continue to get better, stronger, faster? I couldn''t wait to find out.

    I had looked over my new skill list briefly, but I was far too tired last night/this morning to make any life-changing decisions. The list had included the prior skills I hadn''t chosen, with some new additions. The magic skills were still grayed out, of course. But there had been a couple of new skills that caught my eye:

    Augur''s Insight

    Improved Appraisal

    Aura of Inspiration

    If I recall correctly from what Iter had said, Augur''s Insight was another active, focus-based skill that enabled the user to gain additional insight into the motivations and veracity of the chosen target. That sounded extremely useful in social and business situations, though I suppose I''d have to use it sparingly in lengthy negotiations or risk passing out again. That episode had left a mark on me.

    Iter hadn''t had much detail on Improved Appraisal, other than to say it would show me additional information about the person or object being appraised. That was an Isekai staple cheat, and I was tempted.

    Aura of Inspiration was intriguing ¨C Iter was equally vague about this one, saying that activating the focus-based skill would grant a boost to one attribute of my choice for all party members. Iter said something about how this skill was likely unlocked by choosing Follow the Leader before. I hadn''t been planning to select it, because until moments ago I had only had a single party member. But now I had two. Would I gain more in the future? Buffing two for the price of one seemed like a good deal.

    I decided to go with Augur''s Insight and Aura of Inspiration this time around. Improved Appraisal seemed like it could be hit or miss. It was reassuring that skills I didn''t select remained in the list the next time I leveled up, though that might not always be the case. And it was interesting that there seemed to be skill evolution or growth paths, like Follow the Leader unlocking Aura of Inspiration. Though I confirmed that Follow the Leader remained in my list of skills ¨C it wasn''t replaced by the new skill.

    <blockquote>

    Name: Mai Carrigan

    Race: Human

    Class: Hero

    Level: 3 (+)

    Condition: Normal

    Core Attributes

    Body: 40 (x1.25 = 50)

    Spirit: 70 (x1.25 = 87)

    Mind: 60 (x1.25 = 75)

    Luck: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 50 (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Focus: 75 (+)

    Charm: 68

    Intuition: 62

    Will: 81

    Fate: ??? (+)

    Skills

    Communion of the Soul, Appraisal, Inventory, Divine Translation, Hero''s Journey, Champion of Light, Inner Eye, Adept of Ages, Fortune''s Favor, Swift Regeneration, Spiritual Harmony, Still Mind, Destiny''s Chosen, Inner Alchemy, Follow the Leader, Augur''s Insight, Aura of Inspiration

    </blockquote>

    I was turning into quite the support class build, I reflected.

    I was also notified that Bushra was able to level up, too. It felt wrong making decisions like that for someone else. And involving Bushra meant opening up to her about the gods and everything, which¡­ I wasn''t prepared for. I put all questions about leveling up Bushra on hold for now.

    ? ? ?

    "Well, you have quite a stash here. But jewelry appraisal''s not really my thing," Kris sighed, and leaned back away from the coffee table. "I like my money in spreadsheets and ledgers, where you can apply it. This kind of physical wealth doesn''t do much for me."

    "It''s shiny," Bushra offered helpfully. "Also, Alameda has three different locations where you can sell gold. What''s that about?" Her nose wrinkled up as she looked up at me from her phone.

    "Not sure. Maybe Alameda has a lot of hoarders? Or at least, heirs of hoarders?"

    She looked down at the bag, the corners of her mouth rising, but her forehead wrinkled. "Guess you fit right in, then."

 Chapter 22: Visiting the Shopkeeper

    *bzzzt*

    A buzzer sounded, and we heard a loud click as the door lock disengaged. I pushed against the door and into a small store frontage with glass cases taking up three of the interior walls as well as a central island. It was well lit from outside despite the somewhat faded signs covering the storefront window, advertising "Collector Coins", "We Buy Gold", and "Estate Jewelry" on yellowing, stiff cardstock with simple black lettering. Framed by gold filigree on the front door was the name "Rostoch''s Rare Coins" in an elaborate banknote font. Our footsteps clicked against the worn ceramic tile as we entered. The room smelled stale, but not unpleasant. Of the three shops we''d found, we''d chosen a dealer who specialized in coins as well as precious metals since the gold coins took up the bulk of my collection. If it didn''t work out, we could always go to one of the other shops.

    Behind the glass counter in the back hunched a man of late middle age, with heavily tanned skin and pale blue eyes. He had straight blond hair that covered his ears, and what kind people would refer to as a receding hairline. He removed a pair of glasses and blinked up at us with a smile of inquiry.

    "Hello, ladies. How may I help you today?" His blue eyes turned down at the outer edges, lending him a look of sympathy and benevolence.

    "Uh, I''m here to get some items appraised," I replied as I approached. Kris remained at my side, while Bushra moved to look around with open curiosity around the shop. Iter still hadn''t returned by the time we decided to leave. It was a bit odd not to have him shadowing me around. I wondered where he went to.

    "Certainly," the man replied in a mild tone. "May I see the items?" He took out a large roll of some velvety looking material from underneath the counter and laid it out in front of him. I pulled the weighty satchel across my body to access the contents and began placing them on the counter, jewelry first. While I did so, I made sure to activate the skill Augur''s Insight. I was curious how it would work.

    The man watched the process with mild interest, his eyes cataloging the contents. When I started laying out the tubes of coins, though, I ''felt'' rather than saw his customer service smile fix rigidly in place. I could sense a heightening of interest, and a change in demeanor. Outwardly, there was no change in the man''s appearance. But the sudden shift was like a stone dropping in a pond to my newly activated senses. It was hard to describe. Kris was a watchful presence behind me, but I didn''t feel anything from her in the same way. And Bushra''s nervous interest was clear to see. Looks like, as advertised, the skill only worked on the specified target. I finished placing down the items from my bag.

    "May I?" Still proceeding in a unaffected and placid manner, the man began spreading out the jewelry and isolating each piece. He put back on his glasses and began examining each item. He then sorted them into different piles, by what categorization I couldn''t understand.

    "The jewelry is quite varied. You have a quite a collection of different sizes and styles. Men and women''s jewelry, too. May I inquire how you came by these?" His tone remained pleasant, even idle, as he continued to look through each piece. But again, I could sense a sharp undercurrent of suspicion and greed, at complete odds with his mannerisms.

    "I inherited them from my relatives. I think some of them were from their brothers and sisters as well." I paused. "It''s become quite a jumble, hasn''t it?" I added with a troubled smile.

    I felt the suspicion from the man ease, while not fading away altogether. It was an eerie, almost physical feeling. At the same time, a corresponding sense of greed and desire rose as the man moved to the first tube of coins after finishing with the inspection of the jewelry.

    "Ah, do you have documentation, perhaps? Something to establish the ownership and provenance more directly?" He asked with a calm and even tone.

    "No, it was all given to me piece by piece before they passed ¨C as gifts." Well, hopefully that''s sort of true. I didn''t know if any of the former owners were alive or dead, after all.

    His smile fell slightly, but he nodded understandingly. "Unfortunately, that might affect the value somewhat." In contrast to his kind yet patronizing tone, I felt a mild triumph from the man. He was obviously happy with my response. With nimble fingers he used a small tool to crack the red lid from the coin container, and drew out a coin. He held the shiny gold disk up to his eye to examine it carefully.

    During this whole process, the excitement and greed were almost overwhelming me in waves. He placed the first coin on the mat, then extracted and examined the remaining coins from the tube, 10 in all. For the first time, I saw an outward glimpse of his emotion, as he licked his lips. I saw his gaze travel to the other 12 tubes on the counter. I felt a undercurrent of uncertainty and nervousness begin to rise, though it never overcame the excitement. He replaced the 10 coins gently and deftly back in the tube, before looking up at me.

    "For the jewelry, I can offer a lump sum at the current price in gold, approximately $24.76 per gram. None of the pieces are unique, and I''m afraid I''m not a reseller of jewelry. You may get a better price for those items from a jeweler." His tone was even, and his smile was consoling. However, while I could sense a measure of truth to his words, there was a definite sense of dishonesty around price. Specifically, the offer of a lump sum at the lowest rate was a deception, is the impression I was getting. But the man continued.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "As for the coins, these are quite clearly Canadian Maple Leaf gold. They have been kept decently well from the elements. I imagine you''ve kept them in the containers you''ve received them in?" He asked. I nodded. "Their worth far outstretches the value of the jewelry." He gestured to the jewelry on one side of the mat and the coins on the other, as if it were a scale. "Of course, I would need to completely examine each coin in more detail to give a more accurate estimate. But if you are looking to sell right away, I believe I could set a price now of $500 per gold coin."

    "Five hundred dollars!" Bushra blurted out behind me. "That''s sixty thousand!" Her voice had risen and she was now staring in shock at the pile of coins on the counter. Kris, too, had her eyebrows raised, although she was doing a better job retaining her composure. She gave a tight lipped grimace in Bushra''s direction, and turned to the coin dealer.

    "Five hundred seems impressive, but we''re not in a hurry to sell," she added.

    All this time I was reeling. The price was far larger than I''d expected, but even more than that¡­ my new skill was telling me the man was vastly underbidding the actual value. I couldn''t tell by how much, exactly, but the sense of greed was pouring off of him in waves. He was irked by Kris'' response but unwilling to let such a prize get away so easily.

    Outwardly, he nodded and put on an expression of wounded understanding. "Of course, of course. Though I imagine you will hear the same from others. Even less, if they were to try to sell the coins as scrap." He looked away from Kris and back to me, the owner. "As a dealer in coins, it pains me to think of such specimens melted down in ignorance." His smile turned mournful, shaking his head in empathy for the coin''s sad fate.

    Then he took a measured breath, and looked back at me. "Very well, I will make an exception. I will raise the price to $750 per gold coin." The he held an open palm out to the piles of jewelry "In addition, I will accept these pieces as well, in order to bring the total to $100,000." He looked at me with an air of confidentiality. "A collector friend of mine to which I owe a favor has recently been in the market for gold coins, you see. I sadly did not have the stock when he approached me last. I''m willing to risk the increased price on the opportunity of a quick turnaround. But," he added, "there is a risk the man has already acquired the coins he was seeking elsewhere. I''d be willing to take that risk in order to repay my friend, if we were able to come to an arrangement today." He looked at me from under his brows, the smile now in resignation as to his potential for loss.

    I couldn''t stop myself from admiring the man. His sincerity, his desire to do good by his friend, his willingness to offer me all the benefits of this transaction ¨C all compete and utter bullshit. The avarice and glee roiling off this placid and friendly countenance was frankly astonishing in their contrast. From what I was sensing, $750 per coin was still far undercutting the value, and $100,000 for everything was opportunistic bordering on fraud. I thought about how to proceed. Kris was right, there was no need to sell right away. But it was all found money to me. Why not make a deal here, and potentially cultivate a resource for future loot sales? But I wouldn''t want to be taken lightly.

    "$1500 per coin," I countered.

    The man frowned for the first time. "I beg your pardon?" I could feel the irritation at the sudden rise in price, but the greed was still there. I had doubled his last asking price without thinking too much about it, but it seemed the coins were worth even more than that.

    "Fifteen hundred," I repeated. "That would be, what $180,000? How about we throw the jewelry in for a nice round $200k?"

    He peered at me, his consternation warring with his greed. His lips pursed in thought. "$180,000, with the jewelry." All pretense of charity and goodwill was gone. I felt like it was still a huge windfall for the man, based on what I was sensing. But if I pushed more forcefully, it might make the man harder to deal with going forward. For the sake of future dealings, I nodded firmly in agreement.

    "Do you have that much in cash?" I asked. Now that the numbers were out there, I reeled a little at the amount.

    A satisfied grin reappeared on the man''s face. "As it happens, I do not. But I can provide an advance of 10% if you agree to allow me as agent to sell the items on consignment. I will be able to complete the purchase by the end of the week. Wait here while I fetch the agreements."

    ? ? ?

    Kris shook her head in a mixture of wonder and chagrin as we left the shop. "We didn''t have to rush into a deal right there, you know."

    "Yeah, I know," I placated. "But you were an immense help reviewing the terms of the paperwork. Thank you." I patted Kris on the arm and smiled up at her with genuine gratitude. She seemed mollified. Instead of a jumble of jewelry and coins, my satchel now held $18,000 and a set of agreements for $162,000 more by Friday. It felt oddly light, and not only from the burden of precious metals. As if a burden had been removed. Or maybe I was getting giddy from focus drain? I quickly remembered to turn off Augur''s Insight.

    "I still can''t believe you sold all that for $180 thousand!" Bushra was trying to keep her voice low, but her excitement was pushing her volume higher. Thankfully, as a weekday afternoon, the streets were relatively bare. This part of Alameda was only now starting to recover from the hit to the local economy after the closure of the US Navy base some decades ago. Foot traffic was still low, so we were practically alone.

    Enjoying the warm sun on me against the chill winter air, I grinned back at Bushra. "I know, right? How''s that for some seed money to hold us over?" I glanced Kris'' way.

    "Hmm, well, with such a small team, it will last a little while. But you''ll need to start finding a regular source of income as soon as possible. You won''t be able to pay my frankly exorbitant fees otherwise." Kris smirked.

    "Yeah," I began, when I felt my phone start vibrating. I pulled it out to see who was calling. "Oh shit." I stopped, forcing Kris and Bushra to turn back and look at me.

    "What?" Bushra and Kris replied in stereo.

    "It''s Ben." The bastard who fired me.

 Chapter 23: Skill Challenge

    "Mairead, good of you to come."

    Ben stood up from his seat and gestured to the leather chair opposite. He was wearing a well-tailored dark blue sport jacket and smooth white dress shirt, tucked into blue jeans with a rich brown belt. He had on a dark blue tie with a conservative geometric pattern, and silver tie chain holding it in place against his shirt. A pair of silver cufflinks peeked out from his sleeves.

    It was late afternoon now, bordering on early evening. I was at the Balmoral Club on Montgomery in SF. When I had eventually picked up Ben''s call, figuring to get it over with, he''d been casual but brief. He invited me out to the Balmoral to ''clear the air'', as he put it. Kris and Bushra both wore skeptical expressions when I told them, but offered no criticism or complaint. They reluctantly agreed it was better to learn what Ben had to say sooner than later. We parted ways, with me promising to call them both later tonight.

    It was early enough that traffic was light (well, lighter than rush hour), so I opted to eat the cost of parking in the city and drove my car. I''d stopped briefly to change at home into a conservative ivory blouse and charcoal dress slacks with a wide black belt. I thought about adding a flash of jewelry or maybe some accessories, but ended up deciding simpler was better. My dark wool winter coat completed the ensemble. Iter still had yet to make an appearance, and I was mixed parts concerned and relieved. I couldn''t imagine Iter and Ben in the same room together. it was probably just as well.

    The winter sun was low in the sky as I drove across the Bay Bridge, the brilliant yellow and orange clouds silhouetting the justifiably famous SF skyline. Ben hadn''t given directions, but it was easy enough to find my way to the Balmoral Club with a navigation app. It was located in the heart of the Financial District, and from appearances wanted to recreate the ambiance and of the social clubs of the early half of the 20th century, minus the sexism and racism (or so I hoped). The classism remained very much intact. The main lobby was adorned with floors of white and black checkered marble, high ceilings with crystal chandeliers, and walls liberally covered in chrome, gold painted fixtures, and mirrors. I gave my name and was competently ushered up a flight of stairs and down a burgundy appointed hall. I marshalled my thoughts on the way in, as I wondered what Ben wanted. I turned on Augur''s Insight for good measure at the door before stepping into a private lounge room with a more subdued study motif, with high-backed mahogany and leather chairs, wall coverings with art deco patterns, an unlit marble fireplace, and Ben. Confronted by the man himself, I fabricated a thin smile and took a seat.

    "Hello, Ben. Your call was definitely unexpected." I settled into the overstuffed, creaking leather with discomfort.

    "Yes, I imagine it was. But first," he leaned forward, his hands together in front of him, each of the fingertips touching, "my abject apologies for how we treated you on the day of your departure." His eyes never left my face, his direct gaze was clear and searching. "It has recently come to light that the crimes we ascribed to you are said to be the work of another." He paused, and exhaled sadly. "Jon Hu, as a matter of fact." With Augur''s Insight, what came through from Ben was a sense of regret. Though it was unclear whether it was for my sake, for Jon''s, or for the impact to the company.

    It wasn''t hard to show surprise, though it was mostly due to how quickly news had leaked, rather than shock at the reveal. "Jon?" I managed to reply after a second or two.

    "Yes, it appears he was steadily embezzling for quite some time. It is taking time to work through the books to establish with certainty, but with the man''s confession, we expect the full details will be known in due time." He lifted the glass in front of him to take a sip, waiting for my reaction. I felt irritation, and a sense of resignation? Expectation? He was also holding something back.

    "How did you come to learn this?" I asked, before we were interrupted by a knock at the door. A young server in a slightly too large white tuxedo coat entered the room and brought a tray with a single highball glass with some kind of fizzy clear drink. and a large dishes of what looked like roasted marrow bones and various charcuterie, along with serving plates and utensils. He set the glass in front of Ben on the low table between us, then laid out the dishes and place servings for each of us.

    "I hope you don''t mind, I''ve ordered some starters. Would you care for a drink?" He asked, before taking up a slice of toasted bread from the plate and a spoon, and skillfully spooning out some of the marrow onto it. He took a small bite and smiled invitingly.

    The server offered me a menu, which I declined, and I requested a glass of water.

    Ben watched the server leave the room with a somber expression, then swallowed. "As I said, you have our apologies." He turned away from the closing door to look at back at me. Then he set down his unfinished bread and reached into his suit coat to pull out a piece of paper. When he handed it over, it turned out to be a check. "I know this is insufficient for what you have experienced, but please take it in the spirit in which it is meant." While not entirely sincere, it was at least without deception.

    I examined it. It was for $75,000, printed on an official Complyze-issued check.

    "If you like, you can consider that in lieu of more official severance. Or," he paused to look at me, lifting back up his unfinished oval of bread, "You can take it as a bonus. We''d like you back."

    I couldn''t help my eyes widening in shock. "Back? At Complyze?"

    "Of course. I know there may still be hard feelings, but we genuinely appreciated what you''ve delivered for the company over the last year, Mairead." I turned that statement over, unable to sense any falsehood. Maybe a slight exaggeration, but in his place I would accentuate the positive, too. He lifted the glass and took a sip, regarding the drink with pleasure for a moment, before placing it back on the table. "To say we were shocked and dismayed by the apparent betrayal would be an understatement. We had been considering you for a promotion in the new structure." His mouth formed a hard line as his fist tightened in front of his chin. I could feel a quietly simmering anger beneath the surface. "To find out we were duped into falsely accusing a highly-valued member of the team, is perhaps the most heinous outcome of this whole affair." Even without Augur''s Insight, I could sense the quiet rage rolling off of him, controlled.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Several emotions rose up and threatened my calm, but I held them in check.

    Ben regarded my silence with equanimity while he easily recovered his calm. "Please, allow us to put things back in their proper course. We would bring you back as a Product Group Leader. With Jon''s absence, the team will need stable leadership. We think the opportunities for you in that role would be limitless." Truth. Though, maybe not all of it?

    "I don''t know what to say," I finally breathed. At which point, with a light knock, the server returned with a glass of ice water with a slice of cucumber in it.

    "Say nothing at all," Ben replied, not waiting for the server to leave before proceeding. "I''ll send over the paperwork and you can evaluate the offer in detail for yourself." As the door closed again and I took a sip, Ben peered at me in interest. "By the way, I understand you were in an unfortunate accident shortly after that unpleasantness." He waved his hand limply as if shooing away a lazy insect. He eyed me up and down. "Allow me to say you appear hale and well." He took a sip of his own, before proceeding. That he was intently curious was clear, and he was also confused. He must have heard from someone how serious the accident was. "Are there any lasting effects, or hospital bills perhaps?"

    I frowned, but attempted to smooth my expression. "I''m fine," I replied in an attempt at dismissal. "I''m told it looked quite frightening, but the doctors said I was lucky." Nothing short of a miracle, was the phrase they used, actually.

    "Truly? Complyze would be ready to assist, if needed. It is the least we can do for our part in such a disastrous series of events." An honest offer, though it seemed in line with the check earlier ¨C devoid of true sympathy.

    "Thank you for your concern." I wondered briefly if turning on Augur''s Instinct was a mistake. It was hard to avoid reacting to what I was feeling from him.

    "Well, that is comforting news, but these issues can take time to develop. If you find yourself in difficulty, please don''t hesitate to contact me directly." Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, then slid it over to me. "You already have my number, but please take this." Ben smiled briefly, like a light switch going on and then off. Again, honest, if lacking.

    "Thank you, I will" I replied cordially. "You said Jon was to blame for the thefts? That''s hard to believe." I wondered how Ben knew.

    "I know just what you mean." He took another slice of toasted bread, and piled a slice of cheese and cured meat on top. "Jon was such a composed and intelligent man. A beautiful family, too. To throw all that away¡­ " Ben shook his head slowly, with authentic regret.

    As I tried to think of a way to probe further, Ben added, "¡­ and it seems he may not have been working alone."

    "What do you mean?" I replied, flashing back to the slamming French door and a lone glove lying nearby.

    "Well," Ben paused. "Jon was found dead in his home yesterday night. An apparent suicide." He took another sip from his drink, as if to wash away the taste. "The police informed us this morning, as they were performing their investigation."

    "That''s horrible," I murmured. That confirms how Ben knew, at least in part.

    "Indeed." Ben wiped his mouth with his napkin, entirely lacking in horror or concern. "Well, they had reason to believe he had met with someone earlier. Are you acquainted with Bushra Patel, perhaps?"

    "What?" I reacted.

    "She''s a former engineer at Complyze ¨C I believed you worked on a project with her not too long ago?" He was looking down at the board of meats and cheeses, as if entirely uninterested.

    "Yeah, well, I haven''t known her that long." Why was he bringing up Bushra?

    "It seems she had some kind of altercation with Jon on the day she was let go. I''m under the impression that the police feel she was involved, somehow." He turned the charcuterie board toward me, as I gaped at this information. "Please help yourself. The Manchego is especially delicious."

    ? ? ?

    My meeting with Ben mercifully didn''t last much longer, as he apologetically excused himself to another engagement. He encouraged me to finish the food and enjoy myself, ensured me that a formal offer would be arriving in my inbox tomorrow. "I do hope we can regain your good will, Mairead. We sincerely want you back."

    I left on Ben''s heels, remembering to disable the skill. Everything he''d said had been true, though maybe not the whole truth? If Auger''s Insight was to be believed, at any rate. So then why did I feel so ill at ease about it all? And Bushra, involved in Jon''s theft? I didn''t believe that for a second. But why would the police think that? I circled around and around on that conversation, trying to make sense of it. I made it home without reaching a solution.

    It was early in the evening, and the now rush hour levels of traffic had kept me on the road well past sunset. I found a parking space midway down the block from my house, and made my way to the door. I was hungry by now, and wondering if I should have ordered dinner on Ben''s dime, when something caught my eye from the front window. The lights were off, but there was a flickering luminescence from the TV in the front room. Ah, Iter must have returned, I thought. Tired from the days events, I unlocked the door and made my way inside¡­ to voices?

    "No, You see, that corridor leads outside of the area. You must initiate the conversation with that woman first to complete the quest." I recognized that voice as Iter, my prodigal god.

    "This is pointless." came a new voice, as rich in timbre as Iter, yet deeper and more imposing.

    "It is simply a game mechanic ¨C a rule for how the game functions. You are one for rules, surely¡­ " Iter was chiding the other person, his voice amused if somewhat vexed. This didn''t seem like the first issue that had arisen.

    "Uh, hello?" I called out into my own home as I left the hall and entered the front room, turning on the lights as I did so. Iter was standing next to the couch, looking just as I''d seen him earlier, dressed in modern attire of ivory and cream. One arm was resting on his hip, the other on the shoulder of a large man (?) of smooth, deep brown skin. They had short, curly hair and a pointed, angular beard that were both stark white. The newcomer had a dour expression that didn''t leave the television screen, as their hands almost diffidently manipulated the game controller. Their smooth and flowing robes were white and pattern-less, except for a black half circle emblazoned on the front, slightly off center, as if the other half of the circle was as white as the robes themselves. Their eyes were also a colorless white, devoid of iris and pupil. It was unclear how they saw the TV at all. They sat on the edge of the cushion, ramrod straight, as if unwilling to touch the couch as much as possible, or to relax in any way.

    "Our Hero!" Iter looked up at me with shining eyes and a wide smile. "Welcome home!" He stepped forward, and dramatically flourished his arm toward the seated figure. "May We introduce to you Our kin ¨C Lex!"

 Chapter 24: Order and Law

    "Your kin?" I suppose anyone Iter introduced me to would be supernatural in some manner, but still. How many gods can a girl meet?

    "Yes! We met with Lex while you were out. We are playing the video game." Iter gestured toward the television screen. The current character (Lex''s?) was walking forward in front of an inactive doorway, completely ignoring the mechanism to its side. I recognized the puzzle, one of many simplistic obstacles in the beginner tutorial dungeon. It was more meant to familiarize the player with the controls and environment rather than provide a challenge. However, the character kept walking forward without getting anywhere. It was as if an invisible wall were keeping them from proceeding so the ''walk'' animation continued in place.

    "I can see that," I replied slowly. I had to nip this in the bud. "Iter, can I talk to you for a second in the kitchen?" I tried to assemble a warm smile, but my eyes were screaming.

    "Of course." Iter smiled back, but his eyes were confused. I moved to the kitchen, and I dropped my bag on the table, a little harder than I intended. Iter followed, looking at my bag and me with an expression halfway between joy and dismay.

    Trying to keep my voice from carrying into the front room, I hissed, "You can''t bring stray gods into my home."

    "We did not bring Them. It is more accurate to say that They brought Themselves." He responded in a whisper, matching my tone. He looked slightly chagrined, but the expression faded quickly from his features. "At any rate, They are a God. They¡­ We cannot be prevented." He smiled, a little sheepishly.

    "Iter is correct." The god named Lex called out from the front room, never leaving the sofa. They didn''t seem to raise their voice, but it reverberated like a gong through the house. "We cannot be constrained by mortal concerns. However, what Iter neglects to mention is that They are the cause of Our presence."

    I turned and looked hard at Iter, who''s smile had become a little sickly. "What does that mean?" I asked pointedly, at normal volume, all pretense of surreptitiousness gone.

    Iter grimaced with a sidelong look at Lex in the next room, before he turned his attention back to me. "Lex is not¡­ comfortable with Our continued presence within this world." His shoulders drooped a little, and I could feel the strain coming off of him. Part of me was glad he was feeling put upon. But I also knew how it felt to deal with an unexpected if not exactly unwelcome guest, and could empathize.

    "It is Unprecedented." The deep voice rang out. Lex''s eyes never moved away from the screen, but a deep ''v'' had furrowed its way onto their brow.

    "As We reminded You, there is much unprecedented in this situation." Iter countered. "We are merely observing the situation more closely in response."

    A rumbling snort was the only reply.

    "Wait, are you here without permission or something?" I scrunched up eyebrows. Iter wasn''t unwelcome, or anything. I mean, I hadn''t known him long, but he was¡­ amusing, I guess? It was hard to put a label on our relationship. He was an alien, but supportive presence. And he saved my life.

    It was Iter''s turn to scoff. "We go where the Path leads. We require no permission to be who We are."

    "You may be hewing to Your Nature, God of Paths. But take care Your Journey does not run afoul of the Order of things."

    "That''s Your concern, not Ours." Iter shot back peevishly.

    "We are All charged with upholding the Order on which We All depend. It is¡­ confound this accursed door!" the god jabbed its thumb hard against the controller, apparently attempting to substitute force for facility. If Lex broke it, I''d need to make sure Iter replaced it somehow.

    Iter chuckled, and moved back to the front room and to the side of the couch to assist his fellow deity.

    "The door will not open without solving the required puzzle. You must manipulate the rings on each column to¡­ " Iter leaned in to assist his fellow god with the challenge.

    Human. We would recruit your aid. Send Iter away.

    I blinked at the voice inside my head. It rang so loudly it should be painful, but it didn''t hurt. It brought back memories of meeting Iter and Metam for the first time in the Divine Realm.

    Indeed. Metam has shown Us this. And while We do not disapprove of your continued position as Hero, We do not believe Iter''s actions have been wholly in service to Harmony. Mayhap you can convince Them to see Their Path in a different manner.

    But why? I asked in my head. He''s only trying to help me. He''s not even doing much, except follow me around. And play video games, I added after a moment.

    Their very presence bends the world around Them. They are a God. They do not belong.

    I didn''t respond, thinking it over.

    "We should engage Porta for assistance," I heard Lex suggest, the two gods continuing their conversation all the while.

    "Ugh, We would rather not get Them involved. We have a History." Iter shook his head in rueful remembrance. "Besides, it is quite a simple puzzle. You are being obstinate."

    I listened to them go back and forth for a few moments. After a while, it became clear they were preoccupied entirely with the video game. And Lex seemingly had no intention of leaving. It felt like d¨¦j¨¤ vu. There was no way I''d be accepting a second squatter in this house. But it didn''t seem like Lex would leave until Iter did. And Iter gave no impression that he was convinced by any of Lex''s arguments. It might be a long night.

    ? ? ?

    When I left for a run the next morning, Lex was still there, grinding through the game. They didn''t follow Iter''s example and join our jog.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    It was a grey winter morning in the Bay Area, heavily overcast and just under 50¡ã F. While not foggy, the air felt damp, and my exposed skin was chilled. I''d only found a couple of small loot markers, but picked them up on the way ¨C another earring and a chain with a broken clasp. Not exactly a second seed round of funding. Though the physical benefits from leveling up were even more clear now, as I was noticeably faster and nearly as fresh in appearance as Iter by the end.

    After a brief cooldown around the block, I turned briskly down the walkway that lead to my front door. It was then I noticed an unfamiliar person looking down at me from the porch. He was dressed in navy blue chinos, a light-blue button down shirt with no tie, and a lightweight bomber jacket that was an even darker blue than his slacks. He watched me closely as I stepped up to the porch.

    "Ms. Carrigan?" He inquired with a friendly smile that didn''t reach his eyes.

    Not a run-of-the-mill solicitor then. "Yes, that''s me. And you are¡­ ?"

    "Luis Flores, detective for the Redwood City Police Department. I need a moment of your time. Can I come in?" He reached out with a proffered business card. He eyed me, and then Iter, with interest.

    I thought about Lex in my front room in his decidedly unconventional attire, and decided going inside wasn''t the best move.

    "How about we talk outside? I''m just back from a run and still cooling off." I extemporized, wiping my nearly dry forehead with the back of my arm.

    "Sure thing," he agreed, and made space for me on the porch so I could stand at the same height. In fact, I was slightly taller than the man, though he was wider and likely heavier. "Most people I talk to like to keep it private, but I''m fine anywhere." He took out a medium sized notebook and pen. "And who might your friend be?"

    "Oh, Iter''s my running buddy." Iter had joined me on the porch, returning the detective''s interest with an appraisal of his own.

    Oh, yeah. Appraisal.

    Name: Luis Ignacio Flores

    Race: Human

    Class: Police Detective

    Level: 1

    So, identity confirmed. That''s handy, I thought.

    "Mr Iter¡­ ?" he stretched out the name, obviously seeking a full name.

    "I only know him as Iter, actually. He doesn''t speak much English." I turned to Iter, willing him to help explain.

    "Iter Journeyman," Iter said simply, holding out a hand for the detective. Can''t say I thought much of Iter''s naming sense.

    Detective Flores moved the pen to the hand holding the notebook, and accepted the handshake. Then he took up pen and paper and resumed his note-taking.

    "Oh? When did you both meet?" he asked breezily, as if we were new friends at a cocktail party.

    "Last week," I responded, wondering where this was leading. I slapped my forehead (metaphorically speaking) and started up Augur''s Insight as well.

    "Oh, was that before or after being let go from Complyze?" He smiled innocently.

    I blinked. So he was thorough. "After, actually. I was in a car accident, and he helped me out. Came to find out we had some hobbies in common." I let my voice cool a bit. "Is this what you came here to ask?

    "Just following up on some details," he replied. Mostly truthfully, according to Augur''s Insight. "I did hear about the accident. Sounds like you''re lucky to be alive." He looked at me up and down in my running attire. "Very lucky."

    "As lucky as you can be after losing your job and being hit by a car." I chuckled self-deprecatingly, and the detective joined in.

    "You do have a knack for being caught up in unpleasant events," he added.

    That was so much of an understatement that I nearly burst out giggling. I restrained it. Barely. "That''s one way of putting it."

    "How would you put it, then?" He asked mildly, but the challenge was there.

    "Like being a plaything of the gods," I responded without thinking. I saw Iter frown, but I kept my smile fixed on the detective. He was covering a lot of ground.

    Detective Flores waited a respectful moment to see how I followed up, but I stayed silent. His smile hardened, eyes glinting. I could sense the sharp interest as well as enjoyment or fulfillment rolling off of him in waves. The man likes his work, it seems. "Very well, then. Now tell me how you came to be inside the house of Jon Hu on Sunday evening."

    ? ? ?

    "That''s quite a tale, Ms. Carrigan."

    Before starting on my story, I''d told Iter I''d meet him later, and to avoid going inside the house for now. The whole translation skill must be working, since the detective made no note of what I said, though his brow furrowed at missing it. Iter had given a concerned look, but promptly left as if going somewhere.

    "So according to your statement, you never spoke with Jon that day, correct?" Detective Flores continued his questions.

    "That''s correct."

    "And when you encountered him on the shower floor, that was the first time you saw him that day as well?"

    "Yes."

    "Did Ms. Patel meet him earlier?"

    I was leaning against the porch railing, while the detective stood across from me, referring to his notes. This re-focus on Bushra made me uneasy, given what I''d heard from Ben yesterday. "Not as far as I know. She said he called her. And I was there when he texted her later."

    "But you say you heard someone else there when you arrived?" He leafed back a page or two in his notebook for reference.

    "We both heard what sounded like a door or window slamming. Also, the front door was ajar." I added. Then I remembered. "There was one of those doorbell security cameras. Haven''t you checked that footage to see who came and went?"

    He paused, and pursed his lips in thought. I felt a sense of caution warring with curiosity. Curiosity won. "It is interesting that you bring that up, Ms. Carrigan. In fact, there is no footage available from that camera. You''re a computer person. Is that easy to do?" What? I felt a sense of threat that I''d been feeling in the background the whole time grow stronger.

    I frowned. "It''s not my area of expertise. But anything digital could be erased." That was true, though typically not easily. "Do you know how it was done?"

    He grinned and avoided answering. "Would you say it was more Ms. Patel''s area of expertise?"

    I inhaled, then exhaled. The Auger''s Insight was sending me wave after wave of suspicion, intrigue, and aggressiveness, making it hard to focus on the actual conversation. But this dancing didn''t seem to be getting anywhere. "What''s this about, Detective Flores?" I asked pointedly.

    Again, the pause while he weighed his options. He watched me with narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

    "Was Jon murdered?" I asked with alarm. This was much more than a follow-up about a suicide.

    Another pause, then the easy smile returned. "We do not believe so, no. You don''t carve up someone like that without a struggle, unless there''s a massive amount of drugs in their system ¨C and toxicology found nothing. He took his own life." He closed his notebook. "But there''s things that don''t add up. The security camera. The door slam. His missing phone."

    "His phone was missing?" I queried.

    He looked for a moment as if he let something slip accidently, but I felt a wave of satisfaction off him. He meant to lay that bait.

    "Yes," he begrudgingly (at least, on the surface) confirmed. "We haven''t been able to locate it as of yet, but it was not in the house. And yet, the victim texted Ms. Patel a short time before you arrived at the scene. If someone confronted him, enticed him to write that note, maybe even gave him a little push ¨C who can say?" He moved his shoulders up and down perfunctorily. "But it ties up rather neatly, don''t you think? With the video surveillance gone there''s no way to tell. Maybe the phone had information that was just as incriminating? Or evidence of a text being sent automatically, somehow." He licked his lips, and his eyes fixed on me like a predator on prey. "And who benefits? Particularly if they were also involved in a crime that could easily be assigned to a single individual with the stroke of a pen." He grinned at me, showing the whiteness of his teeth.

    "¡­" I kept my thoughts to myself.

    "I believe I have everything I need from you for today, Ms. Carrigan. If you find you should remember something new, or have anything to add to our investigation, please don''t hesitate to contact me at the number on my card. Oh, and please inform us first if you intend to travel. Have a pleasant day."

    Shit.

 Chapter 25: Checkpoints and Check-ins

    Once Detective Flores left, I fled to the shower to wash away the grime from the run, concerns of truant gods, and unsettling talks with police detectives. Passing by the front room, I saw Lex on the couch out of the corner of my eye, and pressed my lips together in exasperation. I left it alone for now. One more thing to sort out later.

    Once clean, I made ready to head out. When I talked with Bushra last night, we''d made plans to meet up and try to get some actual work done. I also hesitated to go into all the details of what Ben had said over the phone, so a face-to-face was good. Thankfully, because of the extra god hanging around, I''d suggested working in a local caf¨¦ instead of my house. That could have been an even bigger mess if Bushra had also run into Detective Flores here. I grabbed a lightweight puffy black coat against the morning chill, told Iter where I was going, and left them both on the couch. Another productive day of deity-ing and playing video games. Nice work if you can get it, I suppose.

    The caf¨¦ was further down Park Street, almost near the residential portion of the road. It billed itself as a "coffee and tea garden", so I thought this might fit Bushra''s tastes better. Plus, it tended to be active enough that two people conversing about work would be fine, but quiet enough that we didn''t have to try to compete with the din. Bushra was already there when I arrived, a little white ceramic teapot in front of her with a matching white cup and saucer. She''d opted for a table in the front rather than in the garden out back, which worked well enough for me. The light from the window frontage was restrained, but comfortable. Her rather large laptop took up most of the rest of the surface area on her side of the table. I moved over and pulled up a chair.

    "Sorry I made you wait," I greeted her. She finished taking a sip of her beverage and tried putting it down and nodding at the same time.

    "No problem. I thought I''d get here and get set up first. Plus, I had to leave home before my parents caught me. It''s not like I''m lying about going to work if our company idea pans out." She added defensively, then paused and added "Also, they did not like getting visited by the cops yesterday." She grimaced, and I didn''t think it was the tea.

    "The police visited you, too? There was a detective outside my home this morning." I pulled out my much older, lighter laptop, and connected it to the nearby power outlet Bushra had appropriated.

    "Really? What did they want? They wouldn''t tell my parents anything," Bushra inquired. "Once they found out I wasn''t there, they left. I''m supposed to call them back or something." She made a face. "It''s probably a good thing I wasn''t there. I got an earful from my mom about it when I got home. I''d told them about what happened with Jon, so it was easy to say this was a follow-up. But they don''t respond well to surprises like that."

    "You remember last night I said Ben had insinuated the police were investigating the thefts? He might have been right. The detective was definitely probing at something. I think they''re looking for an accomplice to the thefts." I paused, wondering how much to say. I decided to lay it all out. "They think it could be one or both of us."

    Bushra''s mouth was open, eyes wide, clearly stunned. "But why?" she finally got out. "We''re the victims in all this. Jon even said so."

    "I''m not sure, but they found some things that don''t add up. The detective mentioned Jon''s phone was missing, and that the security video was erased. What would it take to do that?" I asked offhandedly. It''s not like I suspected Bushra or anything. At least, I was pretty sure. We hadn''t known each other long, but while she put up a tough front, her youth peeked through here and there. Or maybe, because she was so fierce her inexperience and insecurity were more evident? But it had me wondering.

    "Access," Bushra replied after a very brief pause, raising her cup of tea and taking another sip. "Those things have local storage, but save to the cloud at intervals. My parents got one last year. Hacking into one would be possible, I guess, but it would be a lot easier just to get the password to the account somehow. When my parents received theirs from my uncle, they asked for my help getting it configured. One of the things I did was wipe all my uncle''s old data and reset the account. It was pretty easy, actually. Though it might be different for different manufacturers." She tilted her head in thought.

    "Uh, maybe don''t tell that story to the police if they ask you about it." Relaying something like that in front of that detective would be like showing a limp to a predator.

    "Oh! Um, okay." Bushra swallowed, and looked down and away. Her forehead wrinkled and eyes widened.

    I excused myself to get a beverage of my own from the counter. I ordered a lavender latte, a special they were running at the time. They gave me a number, and I went back to the table to wait.

    "Actually, I''m kinda scared." Bushra confided as I sat back down. Her tone was light, but her body language was closed as she hunched over her teacup. "Was there really someone there when we arrived? Did they hurt Jon?" She hesitated, biting down on her lip. "What would they have done if we''d found them?" A saw a slight shudder run through her body, and she held the tea cup with both hands, as if trying to absorb its heat into herself. "I can''t stop thinking about it."

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    I reached out and pressed my hand lightly against the outside of hers on the cup. "Hey, it''s okay. You''re safe." I wasn''t sure about the words as I said them, but it seemed something Bushra needed to hear. "And the police basically confirmed that there was no foul play." I told her what the detective had mentioned about the lack of drugs in Jon''s system. "It''s terrible," I added, "but Jon took his own life. I don''t know who was there or why, but it wasn''t murder or anything."

    Bushra looked up at me finally, and gave a weak grin. "Thanks," she said, and put her cup down in a deliberate move. Then she took a deep breath and pulled her laptop towards her. "I tried to take a look back through the app to re-familiarize myself with the code. Some of this stuff I haven''t touched since college." Her body shifted back to work mode, clearly trying to focus on something else.

    "That''s a good idea," I agreed, supporting her change of subject.

    "You said you took some notes while you were testing the app and getting feedback. Can you send that to me?" She started typing away at her keyboard, eyes flickering back and forth across the screen.

    "I have a summary, but I''ll do you one better," I said, and pulled out a plastic notecard case. I hadn''t used physical index cards in quite a while, but this was still a good method, if low tech. In some ways I liked this method better when working together in person. it wasn''t always possible with distributed teams, but physical cards worked well for planning meetings.

    "What''s that?" Bushra asked.

    "These are user story cards," flashing a grin. "Before there was software to capture and sort each of the individual pieces of feedback for prioritization, teams used index cards for each one." I tapped the box. "All the feedback has been collected in this box, and we can go though and assign a priority and story points, or level of effort to each one. Then we can use that to build out an initial roadmap or backlog for our work. Just like our agile planning sessions." We''d used agile development methodologies at Complyze, so I knew Bushra was familiar with them. It made sense to stick with what we knew. It was useful for breaking work down into pieces, and quickly add or deprioritize things as we learned what worked and what didn''t. Maybe overkill with a single developer, but a good, lightweight way for the two of us to stay in sync.

    Bushra had opened the case and was leafing through each card. "So old school," she murmured as she pulled one out. Her eyebrows raised. "This is pretty amazing. You did all this?" She looked closer, serious and intent. "Your handwriting is really beautiful."

    "Uhm, yeah, that''s Iter''s handwriting." I had put Iter to work, since he was also able to see my Journal. It only took a couple of examples for Iter to get the hang of it. My craptastic scribble is not fit for human consumption. There are a number of reasons I went into tech as a career, but a part of me wonders if I did it mainly to avoid writing anything by hand. Though to be fair, Iter didn''t hand-write them either. Instead, he simply held out his hand, and the ink began to form on the cards by itself. That was an experience to watch, and another weird, esoteric difference between divine power and magic in this magicless world that I couldn''t make sense of.

    Bushra looked at the card again, then back up at me. "So what''s the deal with Iter, really? Mr. Swiss Not-A-Boyfriend." Her lips quirked, but her gaze was intent.

    Now it was my turn to grimace. "Iter is someone I met recently. For various reasons, he''s staying with me for a while." Wow, that sounded stupid even as I said it out loud.

    Bushra frowned. "Someone you just met, and you invite them to stay with you." She said flatly, before letting out a short huff of air through her nose. "Is he a recruiter? I think he said something like that the other night." She leaned forward and put one elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand.

    "Something like that?" That seemed pretty close to the truth, actually. "Yes, he wanted to recruit me before, but that opportunity dried up before he could. He felt bad about it, and has been helping me out ever since."

    "That''s pretty dedicated for a recruiter, isn''t it? You sure there isn''t more to it from his side?" She smirked.

    I laughed, "On no, nothing like that." The feeling of Iter''s solid yet comforting frame wrapped around me in the kitchen popped into my brain. "At least, I don''t think so" I frowned.

    "Uh-huh," Bushra''s smirk turned into a full on grin in response. Fortunately, my drink order was called, and I escaped to the counter to retrieve it. I returned to the table with the thick glass, and the scent of scalded milk, lavender, and espresso was intriguing. I took a sip to regain my balance, but it was still too hot and I burned my tongue.

    "Also," Bushra added while I was dealing with the pain, "what''s with the way he talks?"

    "Hunh?" I asked, unprepared for that topic. Was something weird in the translation effect?

    "Not how he talks, exactly. But its like the first time you meet him, you can''t understand him at all. But then later, he''s perfectly clear, like he''s been talking that way the whole time?" Her brow furrowed as she struggled to describe it. "He was like that with Kris, too, yesterday."

    "Maybe his accent?" I tried to brush it off, but Bushra wasn''t having it.

    "But that''s part of it, his accent is perfect. Or rather, I don''t hear any accent at all when he speaks."

    I didn''t have a way to explain it, so I made a non-committal noise and tried to take another taste of my drink with burnt tastebuds. I could smell the lavender, but didn''t get much flavor from it.

    "Well, it certainly wouldn''t hurt to get a talented recruiter on our side. He probably has a lot of connections." Bushra shrugged, and went back to looking through the cards. I was a little relieved she''d dropped it, but also wondered what harm there would be in telling Bushra the truth. Aside from the whole appearing like an unhinged delusional lunatic thing.

    Bushra suddenly sighed. "These are great," she said, looking though the cards "But I wish I''d been there. I always liked watching what people actually did with the app in labs. I learned the most from those sessions." Her shoulders slumped a little.

    "Well, maybe after we get some work done, we can head over. The shop''s just up the road. Not sure about the others, but Laci''s likely to be there. His shop''s slowest before school lets out." I''d also love to hear what he thinks now that some time has passed. I smiled across the table at Bushra. "You can ask him directly."

    "That sounds fun!" Bushra smiled back. "Our first company outing!"

 Chapter 26: Game Lobbying

    We wrapped up around lunch, and Bushra agreed to meet me back at my place in around an hour for our trip to Epic Encounters. I''d ended up having another latte and a couple of cheddar and chive scones while we were there, so I wasn''t hungry. But I did want to check on Iter and his¡­ colleague? I wasn''t sure what Lex''s presence meant. Was he planning to stick around as long as it takes? Would he escalate matters if Iter refused to leave? One direct and callous way to deal with the situation is to remove the reason Iter remained ¨C namely, me. Here''s hoping he''s a patient god.

    I needn''t have worried. When I came home Lex was gone. Iter seemed a little haggard, though.

    "Welcome home, Mai," Iter nodded slightly at my return. He was sitting at the kitchen table, one hand holding his forehead. He tilted slightly toward me at my arrival. His usual boisterous manner was nowhere to be seen.

    "Hey. Lex is gone, I take it?" I inquired, with a look around to see if I could spot any sign of the other god.

    "Yes, They have departed for now." He frowned and closed his eyes. That ''for now'' part bothered me a bit, but I decided to let it go ¨C for now.

    "Is there anything I should be worried about?" I asked. I tried to keep my tone nonchalant, but some of my concern must have bled through, as Iter smoothly sat upright, composing his features with a gentle smile.

    "Nothing at all, unless it is your next move towards your goal. How did your meeting go with Ms. Patel?"

    "Pretty good. It was our first working session, but we nailed down some immediate next steps both from a coding and a business planning perspective. We still need to assemble a longer term strategy, but we have the first steps and some important milestones to work towards."

    "And what are they?" Iter asked.

    "Well, what it boils down to is ''write down the business plan'', ''make it technically possible to sell the product'', and ''find a customer''. Not necessarily in that order, but agreeing on what we want to be as a company and how we want to get there are critical to get us on the same page." I took a breath. "But today is about getting to know our work styles. We worked jointly on a project before, but the stakes are different now." I pursed my lips in thought, eyes narrowed in satisfaction. "We work pretty well together. Bushra''s smart as hell, but open to user input and feedback. She took a minor user story and whipped out 3 different iterations on how to address it right there at the coffee shop." I paused, considering. "She''s competitive, but that expresses itself in trying to make the product as best as it could possibly be. I''m frankly worried about keeping up with her." I half-smiled in self-deprecation.

    Iter looked thoughtful for a moment, before his beatific smile returned. "As Our Hero, We are sure you will manifest your qualities in an appropriate time and place. We have no doubt."

    "Well, it''s good someone thinks so." I shook my head, but smiled back.

    ? ? ?

    Bushra arrived not long after, and then we made our way to Epic Encounters. Iter invited himself along, but Bushra didn''t seem to have a problem with his presence. In fact, she chatted engagingly with Iter while we walked toward the shop. Being an early afternoon on a weekday, the streets in the east side of the island were busy, but the lunch crowd from the nearby high school and local businesses had already run its course.

    The electronic door chime rang as we entered, and a warm voice called out from behind the counter. "Mai!" Laci was leaning against the counter, arms folded, having paused his conversation with the only other person present in the store. "And you brought friends! Welcome!" His Hawaiian shirt was especially loud today, a riot of tropical colors with silver accents. His matching silver beard rose as his wide smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

    "Yeah, you know Iter, and this is Bushra Patel," Laci reached a long arm across in a handshake, which Bushra gingerly accepted. Her hand was swallowed instantaneously in Laci''s grasp, as he brought his other arm to bear.

    "Call me Laci. Any friend of Mai''s ¨C and, of course, a potential customer ¨C is welcome here!" He gave Bushra a wink, and let her recover her hand after a short press.

    "Wow, that''s some treatment. I think I''m jealous." The other person was standing in a relaxed pose, arms crossed and flashing a lazy smile in our direction. "I didn''t even get a swat on the bum when I showed up." Brown eyes twinkled in merriment beneath pronounced lavender eye shadow that matched their brightly dyed, multi-colored hair. Their black painted lips twitched in a wry grin as they tilted their head in our direction. I''d met Bily only recently (two days ago?), but they made an impression that lasted.

    "Hush, you." Laci scowled at Bily, but his lips were failing to repress a grin. "With you, it is questions and gossip. You never buy anything." Bily smirked back, but raised her hands in mock surrender. Laci turned back to Bushra. "That is Bily. They do not bite, so far as I know, but be careful not to invite them into your home. They are like vampir, you will never be rid of them." He made a face back to Bily. I restrained myself from glancing in Iter''s direction. Gods and vampires were different. Gods didn''t have to be invited, after all.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    "How rude," Bily remarked in feigned affront, then turned their whole body in Bushra''s direction and pointedly away from Laci. "I''m Bily. A pleasure," as they lifted their hand languidly. Bushra took it tentatively after being swept up by Laci, but Bily merely touched fingers before releasing her. Bushra was looking back at me after this reception with a nervous look.

    "Bushra is the developer of the app you all played with Sunday." I came to her rescue. Well, that was my intent, anyway. Both people suddenly locked eyes on Bushra with an almost predatory interest.

    "Reeaaally," "Impressive for one so young!" Both voices overlapped, and they broke their gaze only to glare at each other briefly.

    Laci was the first to recover. "You are quite skilled, Ms. Patel. I''d been meaning to ask Mai for more information about the AR toolset, but here she brings the creator right to me!" He beamed. "I have so many questions!"

    "Well old man, you can get in line," Bily glided forward, artfully blocking Laci from Bushra''s view, but causing their target to take a step back in trepidation. "I''ll start with ''where can I get additional copies,'' and ''how much''?" They smiled wide, showing strong white teeth framed against their black painted lips.

    "Uh, what?" Bushra seemed at a loss at the sudden pressure.

    "We''re still looking at different pricing models," I interjected. We actually hadn''t discussed pricing at all, but I wasn''t about to give that away. "But we''re in the process of forming an early adopter group to collect feedback in those areas." Why not? "Of course, initial participants will receive discounts from the launch price. How many additional copies were you thinking of?"

    Bily narrowed their lengthy eyelash extensions in my direction, their gaze turning to appraisal. "What kind of discount? For what term?"

    "TBD," I replied, "Though we don''t intend to be stingy. We don''t want to give the app away entirely for free, but something suitable to your investment of time seems appropriate. We hope our early adopters will spread the word, after all."

    "Hmmm," They smiled, putting one finger to their lips.

    "Ms. Patel, I would like to discuss with you in more detail some of the design choices you have made, and perhaps add some small requests for improvement? Mere suggestions, to make an old man smile?" Laci had come around the counter and had approached Bushra while Bily was distracted. His clear blue eyes were fixed on her with singlemindedness of his AR obsession. Bushra, was currently caught between Laci in front of her, and Iter behind, the two tall men looming over her. I could see her eyes going wide with panic.

    "Hey now, everyone, let''s give Bushra a chance to breathe." I shooed at both of them with my hands, making some space. "Maybe we can all sit down and discuss everything in a less ¡­ uhm, aggressive format." This was turning into a bigger conversation than I''d anticipated.

    ? ? ?

    "So we''re still very early with everything from the app to the company we''re building to sell it." We''d situated ourselves around one of the tables in the back, but with line of sight for Laci to the front. I''d given them an edited synopsis of the app and its capabilities to-date, as well as a very vague timeline for the company. "Our plan today was to simply give Bushra the opportunity firsthand to hear about and potentially see your experience with the app. So much is lost in notes and translation. It''s our good fortune to find you both here today." I looked back and forth between the two of them.

    Bily smiled coyly and remained silent, but Laci made a ''tch'' sound. "This one is always here as of late. They have no other home that I can tell."

    "Again, rude." They shot a look of annoyance in Laci''s direction, then adjusted themselves to sit taller in their chair. "While crude, the old man is not entirely without experience in both business and the gaming industry. I find him a profitable and, mostly, approachable acquaintance."

    "Which means they aim to bleed me dry until I am a withered husk." Laci shook his head in mock sadness, but you could see he was more amused than annoyed.

    "So let me see if I have this straight. Ms. Patel here wrote this app in college, was recruited by your company for it, but that fell through for both of you. Now the two of you are trying to capitalize on the app yourselves as a startup."

    I winced a little inside at how quickly Bily had summed up what I''d tried to dance around. "That''s not a bad summation. Does that concern you?" Maybe it was better to find out sooner than later.

    Bily chuckled. "Oh, not at all. In fact, it wouldn''t be nearly as fun without a bit of a juicy story behind it." Their enthusiastic tone belied their languid expression.

    Laci was more contemplative. "So, you are planning to develop and sell this app on your own, yes?" He had a somber look. "The two of you?"

    "We have four so far," Bushra spoke up, and turned to me. My first thought was ''four?", but then I realized Bushra was counting Iter along with Kris. I had unconsciously placed Iter as part of the background, given his stance against interfering. I looked over at Iter, who was looking back expectantly, not contradicting what Bushra said.

    "Including Iter, here, I also have a good friend who is a corporate controller that is interested in helping with the financials."

    "I see," Laci began, then pursed his lips and said nothing more. An awkward pause lengthened for a moment, until Bily chimed in.

    "And what do you do, Mr. Iter-person?" Their voice was a purr, but Bily''s gaze was appraising.

    Iter smiled serenely, and I chimed in before awkward questions of language could arise. "Iter is in talent acquisition. In fact, that''s how we first met, he was trying to recruit me for another role."

    "Well, not much of a recruiter, then, is he?" Bily remarked challengingly.

    I clenched my teeth before prying them open to respond. "Not his fault. The role was removed." Looking for a way to shift the subject off Iter, I pressed ahead. "You mentioned wanting copies, Bily. What were you planning to do with them, if I can ask?"

    "Well," Bily began, sounding mildly annoyed from being deflected from their target. "I have a little streaming channel that I''ve been playing games on, and was looking for something new and interesting to share. The, whaddya call it, ARC?" They made a mild face at the name. "It seems like something my audience would enjoy."

    "Well, I''m not sure it''s ready for primetime in that way, yet. We''d ideally want to have our buy-flow active before we market it broadly." I rapidly ran over the list of different steps in my mind for users to self-purchase the product.

    "Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty." Bily winked.

    "But I would like to see how you use ARC," Bushra interjected "That''s why we came here to begin with." Her voice was respectful, but I could see she was getting antsy.

    Laci grinned wide. "Would you like to play a game with us?"

 Chapter 27: Sneak Attack

    For the second time in as many days, I played AR games with Laci at his store. This time, the players were all familiar with the app and able to jump right in. A steady stream of suggestions and ideas were passed around between the players, and I could see Bushra with wide eyes trying to follow everyone speaking all at once. I found a moment to let her know I was capturing everything, and she should just concentrate on getting the most out of the experience. The relief on her face was evident. She began diving deeper into the feedback that was coming, asking for clarification, posing alternatives, and generally engaging in the conversation.

    Laci popped in and out of the games and the discussion, as his store was still open and all. While it was midday on a weekday and slow, there was still the occasional customer that needed tending to. Bily led the bulk of the discussion as a result, at least until Laci''s son Jan showed up around 4pm. Jan took all the activity in with a slow blink, said "Hey, Mai." I waved. Then he opened his textbook and began studying.

    It was dark outside by the time we left, Bushra insisting her head was filled with suggestions and ideas and had to take some time to work on them. With a promise to show them the next iteration, Bushra, Iter, and I began walking to my house.

    "Wow, those people are serious about games," Bushra exhaled. Her eyes were still a little glazed.

    "Well, Laci does run a gaming store," I replied. "I suppose it would be weird if he wasn''t."

    "That Bily person was also pretty intense." Her lips crooked up in a tight smile.

    "Yeah," I agreed.

    "But a gaming environment," Bushra continued. "I never figured that use case. I guess I never did much gaming. I was more into sports and physical activities."

    "Really?" I guess Bushra did seem like the athletic type.

    "Yeah. I was actually recruited into college as part of the soccer team, but a knee injury my freshman year put an end to that pretty quick." She shrugged and sighed at the same time. Then smiled. "I found something else instead."

    "Arrow in the knee will do that," I chuckled.

    "An arrow?" Bushra frowned in puzzlement.

    "Ah, nevermind, it''s a gaming meme." She did just say she wasn''t into gaming.

    "I understand that reference," Iter unexpectedly chimed in.

    "Yeah, well, gaming was always a waste of time, when I could be doing something else. Something more productive. But that was fun," she mused. She gave me a sidelong smile as we walked. "Thanks."

    "Granted, that''s a pretty small focus group to base decisions on," I reflected. "But what do you think about focusing ARC as a collaborative gaming platform to start?" I looked over at her to see her reaction. She was looking upwards at the night sky, purple from the haze of street lamps and city lights. When she didn''t say anything, I continued.

    "I''ll want to look further at the size of the market, but we''ve found some initial interest. Kind of like a Virtual Tabletop, only with AR instead."

    "An AR Tabletop? ART?" Bushra pondered for a bit as we strolled. "Hunh." Her lips quirked up in a half-smile.

    ? ? ?

    We continued talking about the games we played and the players, until we reached my block. Bushra''s car was parked half a block further down. I told Iter he could go on in (and maybe deal with any other stray gods who happened by), and walked Bushra the rest of the way.

    "I really did have a good time," Bushra began, "Not just playing games, but working earlier. It was, I dunno, fulfilling? She cocked her head sideways, looking up. "Like what we''re doing is for us. No one else. We''re making the decisions." She stopped at her car, between the pools of light from two street lamps. "It''s scary, but also thrilling at the same time."

    "Yeah, I get that. Win or lose, it''s ours." I nodded in agreement.

    "Well, I''ll have you know I aim to win." Bushra looked at me half in shadow, half in light, eyes fierce.

    I opened my mouth to respond, when a shadow stepped out from the nearby hedges.

    "Well, hello ladies. What a coincidence finding you two together." The voice was rough and deep, but familiar. My brow furrowed as I tried to place it. Then the shadow stepped away from the shrubbery and more fully into the light.

    "Bruce?" I breathed.

    The same Bruce Paap that I''d barely known from IHS. The man I''d fought with the day of my accident. He was about as tall as Iter, but wider, stockier. He wore dark slacks, a dark knit cap, and a dark jacket, the colors muddied in the haze of the street lamp. He had the kind of bulk you see on middle aged athletes who gave up their exercise routine. There was muscle, but also a lot of flab. But the towering mass he had was no joke. His voice sounded calmer. But his eyes still had the same wild stare he had the day he jumped me. His eerie smile gave me goosebumps.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "What are you doing here?" Bushra demanded. Her hand was in her bag. I thought of Iter and whether he could hear us from inside the house.

    "Just collecting some bad little kids who need to be taught a lesson," He said, his grin widening. Then he suddenly lunged forward, attempting to grab me with his large, fleshy hand.

    I ducked, and swatted at the arm instinctively. Surprisingly, my hit was solid. While I didn''t think I did any serious injury, I heard a swift intake of breath and a snarl. Closer now, he grabbed again. But it seemed like he was moving so slowly. Or, maybe I was just faster? This time I reached out and caught his wrist. Flustered, he threw his other arm at my head, and I caught that, too. He leaned forward, trying to use his weight and height against me. He pushed hard against my much smaller frame, but I held fast. It was exhilarating, holding the much bigger man at bay. This must be the result of my leveling up. A part of my brain wondered at where the additional power came from with no increase in mass, but I didn''t have time to work it out.

    Frustrated, Bruce yanked his arms away, trying to pull me off balance. I let go in time, and he stumbled backwards from the momentum. Then stood there, breathing heavily, and glaring at me in anger and puzzlement. I wondered if I should attack, retreat or wait for his next move.

    "I''m calling the cops!" Bushra yelled. She''d pulled out her phone and raised it, the screen glowing brightly in the night.

    Bruce swore, looked between the two of us with narrowed eyes, then raised his right hand in Bushra''s direction. At first I thought he had a gun or something, and was about to shout a warning. Then I saw his hand was closed in a fist, seemingly empty. A weird flash of light split the darkness from a ring on his finger.

    I saw Bushra go limp and fall to the ground.

    Shocked and wondering if Bruce really did have a gun, I froze, trying to keep an eye on Bruce, but also trying to check on Bushra. She wasn''t moving.

    Bruce chuckled, wiping the side of his face with the back of his other hand, then raised his right hand again in my direction. "Nighty night," he said and the light flashed again.

    All my muscles seemed to seize up at once. Unable to even cry out in shock, I fell to the ground like a dropped mannequin.

    ? ? ?

    I couldn''t move. I tried to lift myself off the ground, to roll, to yell, but nothing happened. I heard Bruce move over to Bushra first, checking her over. Then it sounded like he lifted her up. I couldn''t turn my head or even move my eyes. But I could hear. I could see. I could blink and breathe. Though, when I tried to suck in air to scream, my body didn''t respond. It was as if there was no conscious link between my brain and my body. I couldn''t do anything but mutely witness what was going on around me.

    "Now for you, girlie." Bruce had returned, and hoisted my limp form like a rug over his shoulder. He took me further into the shadows. Since I couldn''t even shift, I could only see his back as I dangled there. But we reached his destination soon enough. He dropped me unkindly to the freezing floor of what seemed like a utility van. I heard some rustling, then I felt myself pulled by my arms over to the side of the van, and then my wrists zip-tied to a metal frame along the interior. The plastic bit into my skin, and I winced involuntarily - it seems I could still feel sensations like pain. Some more movement, and I heard the rear doors slam shut one after another. Bruce opened the driver''s door shortly after that, and the van''s weight shifted slightly as he climbed in. The engine started.

    The interior of the van was mostly dark, with the only light filtering in from the front windshield. I couldn''t see Bushra, either from the lack of light or the angle I was stuck in, or both. The metal was cold, and my muscles were starting to sear in pain from the position I was in.

    I was entirely helpless.

    Open Status, I thought. The Status window showed immediately. Okay, that works. I scanned it, and one thing caught my eye immediately:

    Condition: Paralyzed

    Something Bruce did with that ring paralyzed me. Bushra, too. How''d he do that? Was it a stun gun? I''d never been stunned before, but I thought it was more intense? In videos and the like the targets were always flopping around. Maybe a gas or something? Would I be Poisoned or Intoxicated, though? This seemed very different.

    My health was also now at 45, so I either took some damage in the fight, or when I fell. I saw Swift Regeneration take effect. Maybe that would cure the paralysis? It fixed my intoxication before. Would that even work on whatever this was?

    "You girlies being together is quite the two-fer. I wonder what you were plotting?" He snickered. "Can''t wait to find out." The van began to move. "Just sit tight, girls. It''ll all be over before you know it."

    I called up my Map, and saw Bushra and myself moving now to the South and West. A red marker was nearby ¨C Bruce. Further west lead to a sprawling residential area, while to the south is the Oakland Airport. Oh shit, are we being transported somewhere?

    There must be a skill or something I can do. Come on, Mai, be a fucking hero for once. Would Iter look for us? How would he find us? He is a god, can he do something? Would he?

    Didn''t Iter say something before about using Focus to get rid of environmental effects?

    In relief, I noted on my Map that we''d passed the turn off for the airport. But we kept heading south, towards San Leandro. I switched back over to Status, and tried to channel my Focus into breaking whatever this condition was.

    Notification: Paralysis condition: resist failed.

    My Focus had gone down to 70. Five points. I tried again.

    Notification: Paralysis condition: resist failed.

    Another 5 points. No problem, I have a lot of Focus.

    Notification: Paralysis condition: resist failed.

    I was feeling a bit lightheaded now, an incipient headache forming. But I had to keep going.

    Notification: Paralysis condition: resist failed.

    Starting to float a little, I considered that maybe it was impossible to resist this paralysis Would I keep failing until I rank out of Focus? Fuck!

    Notification: Paralysis condition: resisted.

    Condition: Normal

    Yes! I could move again! But my wrists were still tied to the wall. Being unfrozen was definitely an improvement, though. I tried to lay still to avoid alerting Bruce.

    Now what?

 Chapter 28: Encounter Balancing

    I could feel the rumble of the van beneath me as I lay on the cold metal floor. Street lamps flashed repeated waves of light through the windshield as the vehicle continued through the night. Bruce''s large silhouette loomed threateningly in the driver''s seat.

    With the paralysis gone, I had an opportunity to do something. But what? With that ring or device, could Bruce simply paralyze me again? I had to either get out of range (?), get it away from him, or prevent him from using it. And though now I was able to move, I was still zip-tied to the wall of the van. I had to deal with that first.

    Did I still have my phone? I didn''t see or feel my bag nearby. I bit my lip. Oh! I would have slapped my head in self-admonition if my hands weren''t tied to the wall. Inventory, I thought.

    Equipped:

    T-shirt [Body] (capacity: 0)

    Jeans [Legs] (capacity: 4)

    Zip-tie [Arms] (attached)

    Sneakers [Feet]

    I was momentarily non-plussed by the idea that my jean pockets counted as 4 useful containers, when they were tiny and nothing fit in them. But my bag wasn''t on me, so neither were my phone, keys or anything useful.

    I looked at the inventory screen again. Could I remove or move the zip-ties? I tried to shift them to my pocket, but nothing happened. Was it because they weren''t mine? But they showed up in my inventory. I was technically ''holding'' them. I thought of the last time I had trouble at the closed door in the IHS office. The papers had been visible through the glass, but I wasn''t able to take them until the janitor opened the door. Maybe this was something similar? As long as they were attached to the metal brace in the van, I didn''t seem to be able to shift them away.

    Well, this was getting me nowhere. Assuming Bruce cut me loose at some point when we got wherever we were going, I''d be able to do something then, but for now I was stuck.

    We were still on a main road heading south, according to my Location map. But I had no idea how much time I had until we arrived at wherever Bruce was going. As we went over a bump, I heard a muffled thump on the other side of the van. Bushra must be having a worse time, still paralyzed and not understanding what was going on. Could I do anything for her? I tried to use my Focus on her in the same way as I had before. Nothing. Not even the familiar draining feeling of Focus being used. Trying anything, I flicked through her inventory. She was equally devoid of anything useful, as well. I made a promise to myself not to rely on my bag so much, and keep more useful things in my pockets. Though I needed clothes with better storage capabilities than women''s jeans and slacks.

    Breaking out of that weird train of thought, I went back to Status and scanned through my skills fruitlessly again. Ugh! Why did I think combat skills were a waste of time again? Even some stealth skills might have helped. But I''d used all my skill points. Grasping at straws, I checked through Bushra''s status, too.

    <blockquote>

    Name: Bushra Patel

    Race: Human

    Class: Software Engineer (1 new class available)

    Level: 3

    Condition: Paralyzed

    Disposition: Trusting

    Core Attributes (20 attribute points available)

    Body: 40

    Spirit: 30

    Mind: 75

    Luck: 10

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 40

    Magic: 0 [max 30]

    Focus: 75

    Charm: 35

    Intuition: 57

    Will: 52

    Fate: ???

    Skills (3 skill points available)

    Divine Translation (Party), Inventory (Party)

    </blockquote>

    ''New class available''? And she has attribute and skill points! And more than I usually get when leveling ¨C but I won''t worry about that now. Let''s level her up!

    For class options, there was only one: Paladin. Hell yes. I selected it. Next, I took her skill points and put them all in Body. Hope you forgive me for making this choice for you, Bushra, but I need you as strong as possible to get out of this. Next, skills: what does she have available that would help? Ideally something to get rid of paralysis¡­

    I was excited to see the combat skills I saw in my list before, but there were some I hadn''t seen: Champion''s Resolve, Guardian''s Bulwark, Healing Touch, Righteous Resistance, Timely Counter, and Radiant Strike.

    Of them all, Righteous Resistance seemed the most likely to do something about the paralysis condition. I selected it hoping it was a passive skill. Then I selected Unarmed Proficiency from the fighting skills. She had one more. I felt the van turn and slight bump as we turned off the street. I was running out of time. Unsure what else to pick, I chose Radiant Strike since it seemed to have combat potential. I loved me some smiting when I played paladin-like characters in games, so hopefully this was similar. I didn''t see anything different, but the new Status showed the changes:

    <blockquote>

    Name: Bushra Patel

    Race: Human

    Class: Software Engineer, Paladin

    Level: 3

    Condition: Paralyzed

    Disposition: Trusting

    Core Attributes

    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.Body: 60

    Spirit: 30

    Mind: 75

    Luck: 10

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 60

    Magic: 0 [max 30]

    Focus: 75

    Charm: 45

    Intuition: 67

    Will: 52

    Fate: ???

    Skills

    Divine Translation (Party), Inventory (Party), Righteous Resistance, Unarmed Proficiency, Radiant Strike

    </blockquote>

    The van came to an abrupt stop, and I heard Bruce put the car in park, turn off the engine, and exit the vehicle. I quickly checked Location. We were in a small industrial park in San Leandro, not too far south of Alameda. Not sure of what else to do, I quickly activated Aura of Inspiration, boosting the Body attribute. I felt a weird dual feeling of Focus leaving my body faster, but I was invigorated by a physical boost.

    The rear doors opened. "Here we are ladies. It''s show time." He was a darker shadow against the dim light of a nearby street lamp, but I could hear his lurid grin.

    Laying as limp as possible, I hear Bruce come over and then my arms are suddenly free. I let them drop without resistance and they hit the metal floor. The pain in my wrists hits hard with the blood circulation returning, but I do my best to ignore it. It is short-lived anyway, as Bruce takes a moment to zip-tie my arms back together and then lifts me up over his shoulder. While he''s carrying me I have a moment of panic from being separated from Bushra ¨C what if he leaves Bushra tied up in the van while he does whatever he''s planning?

    After leaving a small loading dock area, Bruce carried me inside the building and dropped me unceremoniously to the ground. Trying to keep as still as possible I looked around. It was a cramped and mostly empty warehouse. There are large spools of cable about as big as my torso stacked against the wall, some cardboard boxes of unknown contents on metal shelves, a tall standing table with packing supplies, and a door in front of me to an interior space. While I''m taking it all in, Bruce kicks me hard in the gut. The air rushes out of my diaphragm and I can''t hold back a groan of pain escaping from my throat. He chuckles, satisfied. "That''s for earlier."

    At that point, the interior door opens and Thorsten appears through the door. He looks down at me briefly, then throws a disgruntled glare in Bruce''s direction. "What the fuck, you idiot, you brought the wrong one!"

    Bruce sneers at Thorsten. "Relax. The other one''s in the van. They were together, so I grabbed ''em both." With a nasty chuckle, Bruce makes to leave.

    "What did you do to her?" Thorsten looks down at me with a confused and concerned stare. "She looks awake. Did you drug them?"

    "Something like that," Bruce pauses, and squats down next to me with a smirk. "I thought you liked ''em docile." He smacked me twice on the cheek. Not hard, but enough to make a loud sound. Like a butcher checking the tenderness of meat. It was revolting, and it took all the self-control I had not to flinch at his touch.

    Thorsten looked skeptical, but a dangerous light was growing in his eyes. "What if someone runs tests. Won''t they find the drugs in their systems or something?" He licked his lips.

    "Nah, they won''t find anything. The other one''s the same way. Wanna take a look?" Bruce looked up, goading Thorsten. I could see Thorsten quickly glance at the other man, his brows knitting in displeasure. But his mouth was an exercise in barely withheld desire. He finally pursed his lips, and nodded.

    Chuckling, Bruce stood up. "I dunno what you see in that one," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Too scrawny for my taste."

    "Shut up," Thorsten spat. "We need her to be a blackmailer and a temptress for this to fly. For that we need evidence of her caught in the act." His sneer was anticipatory. "It''s not my fault we''re in this position. You were the one who bungled the job with Jon." Bruce''s eyes tightened at Thorsten''s comment, but Thorsten was too busy now looking at me with a cruel, lascivious smile. "Maybe these two were in on it together?" His eyes narrowed in appraisal. "How long''s your drug last?"

    Bruce grunted and stood up. "Long enough," he replied, then headed for the loading dock.

    Thorsten gave me one lingering, vulgar smile that made the hair on my neck rise, before he turned and followed Bruce outside.

    The various pains had slowly ebbed as Swift Regeneration did its thing. But it couldn''t get rid of the disgusting feeling I felt all over from Thorsten''s vile gaze. I forced away any thoughts about their plans and focused on how to get away.

    Alone, I quickly tried out my inventory to move the zip-tie around my wrists to the ground. Anticlimactically, the zip-tie disappears and reappears on the floor. I moved hastily to get up, suddenly terrified by the thought of them leaving me here and taking Bushra somewhere else. I checked Location in concern, and saw a dot I assumed was Bruce at the rear of the vehicle near Bushra, with Thorsten just outside the loading dock. I could hear Thorsten''s petulant voice continuing to complain from the doorway. Without warning, I hear a commotion. There''s thumping, yelling, and a sharp metal bang. Hoping Bushra had broken free, I tried to peer into the shadows past the doorway to see what was happening.

    I saw Bushra clinging to Bruce''s back, trying to claw at his face and arm, while Bruce was scrabbling for a handhold to tear her off. I saw Thorsten''s back as he was standing away from the fight on the dock, a drawn gun in his hand but held to one side as if he wasn''t sure what to do with it. No one had noticed me. Glancing quickly around for any kind of weapon, I grabbed one of the heavy looking spools from the warehouse. Whether it was the adrenaline or the skill boost, I hefted it easily by the handhold in the wooden end and rushed toward the fray.

    Rounding toward Thorsten from behind, I swing the other end of the spool as hard as I could at the side of his head. He literally goes flying a few feet to the side of the loading dock before crumpling to the ground. I saw the gun fall from his hand, and quickly used Inventory to put it in my back pocket for safe-keeping.

    The adrenaline is pumping through my system, and a detached part of my brain is wondering if this is the effect of my Aura of Inspiration, or just a natural survival instinct. I''m hardly breathing hard, but my pulse is pounding in my ears. Raising my impromptu weapon, I turn to where Bushra and Bruce are fighting, planning to circle round to catch Bruce from behind. As I do, I see Bruce roll his shoulder forward and Bushra go tumbling over him into some pallets. "Still got fight in you, bitch?" He rubs his face, and his hand comes away wet with blood. "You''re going to wish I let Thorsten have you. Cutting Jon was nothing ¨C I''ll peel the skin from your face while you watch. Hell, maybe that freak''ll still want you, after." He clenched his hand into a fist and pointed it her way, droplets of crimson falling from between his fingers.

    Then Bruce turns suddenly, somehow sensing my approach. Multiple scratches were dripping trails of smeared blood down his face, granting him a gruesome visage. He changes aim, pivoting to point his arm my direction. Knowing he''s bringing up his weird weapon, I quickly use Inventory to bring the gun to my hand. I try to aim it before he can use whatever he did before, but the sudden loss of the heavy spool actually throws me off balance and I have to correct for it. Everything slows down, Bruce''s arm is rising in slow motion, but it''s faster than I can bring the gun into position. My vision is drawn to a dull golden band on his hand, inset with a red gem. A brilliance is growing deep within the jewel, gleaming through the crimson wetness between his fingers. He points it at me, and a victorious smile spreads over his face. He''s got me beat and he knows it.

    Suddenly, I''m blinded by a bright golden flash, and my hearing is rocked by a crack of thunder. I feel a buffet of wind push me back, and I stumble slightly before I catch my footing. When my vision returns, I see Bushra standing where Bruce once was in a some kind of martial arts pose. Bruce is on the ground, unmoving. Bushra''s eyes are wide, and she turns and looks at me, at Thorsten groaning on the dock, and at Bruce''s still form crumpled several feet away. I can see the whites around her irises as she looks back at me breathing hard.

    "What the actual fuck?"

 Chapter 29: First Revelations

    My pulse was still pounding in my ears as Bushra stared at me in shock over what just happened. I imagine my expression was similar. Was that her Radiant Strike in action? I don''t know how she pulled it off, but damn, that was impressive. I tracked where Bruce landed, and saw him motionless against the loading dock wall, just past the van. I shook off my daze and headed that way to make sure Bruce was incapacitated.

    Bruce''s gory visage is oozing blood, but he''s still breathing ¨C unconscious, but not dead. I kicked him hard to be sure, and he took it like a sack of potatoes, rolling over on his side. Then I used Inventory to put the handgun in my back pocket again, turned off Aura of Inspiration, and reached for Bruce''s right hand. It was still clutched tightly in a fist, as if to a lifeline. I peeled open his fingers to be sure there was no other device hidden in his palm, and peered suspiciously at the ring on his finger. I used Appraise to be sure.

    Ring of Paralysis

    Well, that''s pretty clear. But Bruce having it makes no sense. It existing at all in this world made no sense. I tugged at the ring. It was affixed tightly to his finger, but the blood on his hands acted as an effective if gruesome lubricant. I was finally able to work it off his hand. The moment I did, a notification appeared:

    Quest Complete.

    A Fractured Pride.

    Level Up!

    You are now Level 4.

    Level Up!

    Your companion has gained a new level!

    Level Up!

    Your companion has gained a new level!

    New Quest.

    Journey''s Respite

    Accept? Y/N

    My first thought was confused: did Bushra level up twice? I was still struggling to keep up with everything. I ignored the notifications for now and tried to think about what to do next.

    In the meantime, Bushra had come up behind me.

    "What is it?" She asks. Her gaze looking down at my hands was a bit wild, but she was focusing.

    "I think it''s what he was using to paralyze us." I gestured weakly at Bruce. "I''m going to tie him up before he recovers. Can you get Thorsten?"

    "Yeah. Right." Bushra licked her lips, sounding dazed, and headed off toward the loading dock. I checked Location quickly to make sure there weren''t any other people nearby. I saw a couple of quest markers inside the building that I''d have to look at later, but no other people. Bruce''s dot on the map no longer showed up in red. Maybe because he was incapacitated? Thorsten''s marker was also blue, and remained unmoving as Bushra''s yellow marker approached him.

    I let out a long, slow breath, and regarded the now sticky ring in my hands. It would undoubtedly be useful right now. But I''ve read too many fantasy stories of cursed items to put it on un-investigated. I tried to rub some of the blood off on Bruce''s shirt, then put it in the front pocket of my jeans for later. At least Bruce won''t have it. I checked his pockets while I was at it, and found a few zip-ties. Perfect.

    Bruce was a big man, but my boosted strength was enough to pull him over and into the van. Then I zip-tied his wrists to the same metal beam I was bound to, and zip-tied his ankles together for good measure. He was still entirely limp, and I hoped he wasn''t bleeding internally. Too much. I had questions.

    I checked the van while I was at it. The rear was bare and empty, but I found both of our bags in the front passenger seat. That''s a problem solved. I reached gingerly into mine and pulled out a small packet of wet wipes and tried to get the blood off my hands. I heard a thump and the van rocked a little. I stepped away toward the back, and found Bushra by the side of the van glaring down at Thorsten on the ground. He was sitting up against a rear wheel, clutching at his head and looking pale. I handed Bushra her handbag, then took out some of the remaining zip-ties. I tied Thorsten''s wrists behind his back, then tied his ankles together as well. He groaned and flailed weakly, ultimately toppling over on his side. But it was an easy enough task to accomplish. Stepping back, I looked down with a frown.

    "So what now?" Bushra asks. "Should we call the cops?" She''d found her phone in her bag, and was surprised to see the battery was missing. She rummaged around until she found the battery in the bottom of her bag, and put it back together. Mine was probably in the same state, I thought.

    "Not yet. I want to have a look around, and we probably won''t get the chance once the police show up." I glared down at Thorsten. "I also want to ask these two a few questions." Thorsten didn''t respond. He didn''t seem to be hearing anything at the moment. Did I hit him too hard?

    "I have questions, too." Bushra turned to me. "Let''s start with what, how, and why. What the hell was that thing he had?" She waved in Bruce''s direction.

    "You mean that ring? I''m guessing it was some kind of item that causes paralysis. I''ve never seen one before, so I''m not sure how it works. But he kept pointing it at us."

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    "How''d we get free? Did it wear off or something?" Bushra''s eyes went back and forth, processing.

    I hesitated, unsure how far down the rabbit hole to go. Bushra picked up on my silence, and her frown deepened.

    "I also felt stronger all of a sudden. And then there was that bright flash when I kicked that guy. What was that?" Her voice was flat as she watched my face.

    "Uh, that was¡­ uhm." I faltered.

    "Tell me the truth," Bushra asked in a firm tone. "You know something. What is it?" Her voice was hard but almost pleading.

    "You aren''t going to believe me," I sighed and put the inside of my wrist on my forehead, avoiding getting traces of Bruce''s blood on my face.

    "After tonight, I don''t know what to believe. Except," she paused. "I believe in you." Her mouth quirked up in the ghost of a laugh. "I''m not sure what you did, but I felt¡­ something¡­ from you. Before that weird paralysis faded." I could see her consciously inhale and exhale, relaxing her shoulders and neck. "If you really don''t want to tell me, that''s okay." Her brow furrowed in denial of her claim, but her smile grew a little wider.

    I searched her face, and found questions, concern, and¡­ something like faith. If not now, then when? Where to even start?

    I dove in. "It began when I was hit by that truck, and a god pulled me out of this world."

    ? ? ?

    "Wait, so Iter''s a god?" Bushra and I had moved over to the loading dock area and we were leaning on the raised platform. We had a good view of Thorsten and the rear of the van.

    "Yeah. A god of journeys or paths, I haven''t figured it out exactly yet." I could just ask him, I thought. He never came out and said anything, but the way Lex was talking made me realize there were godly domains or portfolios. I wonder what Lex''s and Metam''s were?

    "And he turned you into a hero?" Hearing her say it out loud, it sounded even crazier.

    "Yeah." I nodded.

    "But you were fired by that other god, what''s-his-name?" Bushra was going to get wrinkles if she kept trying to scrunch her face up like that.

    "Metam. And not so much fired as laid off." I wondered as I said it why that mattered. But I was surprised to find it did.

    "Sure," she conceded. "And you can do magic now?" she raised an eyebrow.

    "No, there''s not supposed to be any magic in this world. According to Iter, anyway."

    She looked at me oddly. "Then what do you call what you and I did tonight?"

    "Well, that''s just skills. Iter said it was divine power, not magic."

    "What''s the difference?" Bushra scrunched her face back up.

    "Honestly, I don''t really get it myself." I sighed and gave up.

    Bushra considered, looking in the direction of the van. "What about that guy''s ring? That''s not magic?"

    I frowned and pulled it out of my pocket to look at it. Bushra peered down at it in my palm as well. It looked like a simple gold ring with a red stone, like a garnet or ruby. It seemed relatively new, with hardly any scratches or wear. "Maybe? I''m not sure. I only know this is what he used because I was able to Appraise it."

    "Hmm." I could hear the incredulity in her voice. "Can you show me something, then?"

    What could I show her?

    I opened Status and looked at her inventory. Then I moved her phone to my hand.

    "Woah!" Bushra exclaimed, as her phone appeared in my previously empty palm. She looked in her bag to confirm it was missing, that it was the same phone. "How''d you do that? That''s not magic?"

    "No, it''s technically just an inventory action, it''s not even a skill. I can add and remove things from my inventory just by thinking about it. It also works on your inventory, too." I put the phone back, then moved her wallet to her pocket.

    "That''s weird," she stated, feeling in her pocket and pulling out the wallet with an uncomfortable look.

    "I know, right? Most of the basics are like that. Video game mechanics applied to real life. I can see your status, too, view your health, and even level you up. That''s what I did in the van." I gestured vaguely at her body. "Since you''re part of the Hero''s party, apparently we can both level up at certain points. I haven''t figured out all the mechanics yet. Sorry, by the way." I looked down at the ground. "It was an emergency, so I, uhm, updated your base stats and selected some skills for you."

    "Why are you sorry?" Bushra seemed confused.

    "Well, it just seemed wrong to do without your consent. You know, to change your body and things." I stumbled a bit over the explanation. Bushra seemed to realize what I meant though, as her eyes widened at the implications.

    "Oh. Yeah, don''t do that again," she muttered softly, attention focused inward. I saw her flex her arm as if testing the changes. "What exactly did you do?"

    "I increased your Body attribute, which affects physical strength and stamina. Oh, and I accepted a new class for you, paladin. And I gave you new skills to resist paralysis and that explosion kick you did. Okay, that''s kind of a lot, now that I say it out loud," I rambled.

    Bushra blinked mutely, unable to absorb it all. Then she pressed her lips together in thought.

    A thump sounded from the direction of the van, and it rocked heavily.

    "I think our hosts have woken up." I said, looking in that direction. Looks like we''d have to finish this conversation later.

    ? ? ?

    "Having a tantrum, are we?" I stepped into the van and turned on the overhead light to behold Bruce''s twisting form as he tried to gain some leverage against his bindings. Bushra followed soon after, glaring down at the bound man like so much shit on her shoe.

    "You bitch! What did you do! You set me up!" The blood had ceased flowing and was now crusted over on his face, not making him any more attractive. Spittle flew from his mouth as his eyes burned in our direction. Another thump rocked the van as he tried to somehow lunge at us from his position.

    "Tch, tch, now there''s no reason to be so cranky," I shook my head slighatly in mock sympathy. I''d enabled Augur''s Insight before stepping in the van, but I didn''t need it to feel the waves of rage roiling off the man. The skill was starting to give me a headache with how much Focus I''d used earlier. I''d recovered some, but not enough it seemed.

    At this point Bruce went into a tiresome litany of all the unpleasant things he would do to the two of us once he was free. Some of them didn''t seem anatomically possible. Bushra winced in repulsion, but stood firm next to me.

    "Now is that any way to treat your guests? You went to a lot of trouble to bring us here." I squatted down in front of him, safely out of reach. I narrowed my eyes and smiled in slight confusion. I could feel his helplessness eating away at him. Even worse, he was now helpless before his victim. But I sensed a sly calculation forming. He thought he could turn the tables.

    He tried to spit at me, but the angle was bad and it just looked pathetic.

    I pulled the ring out from my pocket and held it up, examining it in front of him. "It wasn''t just to give me this ring, was it? If so, I''m afraid you''re hardly my type." I smiled sadly down at him.

    His face drained of all color as he stared at the ring in my hand. All thoughts of escape and vengeance were immediately replaced with an overwhelming fear. Fear of me, but also towards something or someone else.

    "But I''m not one to step on a poor man''s feelings." I grinned, rolling the ring back and forth between my thumb and two fingers . "After all, promises like this aren''t given or set aside easily." I was feeling my way through the tangle of his emotions. He seemed to twitch at the word ''promises''. "Why don''t you tell me about it?"

 Chapter 30: Monster Within

    All the streetlights outside the van could manage was a purpling of the night sky, but the interior light shone steady. The temperature had been dropping steadily since the sun went down, and I could now see white clouds each time I breathed out. The chill gripped my head and heart as I crouched and watched the large man twist on the floor of the van, the scratches on his face angry red lines against his pallid complexion of fear.

    My stomach turned at the sight, bile rising in my throat. A deep flood of rage was pushing up my esophogas, mingling with the terror radiating off the man like a frightened animal. My head throbbed from the drain on Focus, and I felt a drop of sweat sliding down from my temple despite the cold. I pushed through these sensations with clenched teeth. But I forced my lips into a grin anyway.

    The monster before me deserved it. All of it. Especially if what I heard him say about Jon was true.

    "Bushra, go keep an eye on Thorsten." I said back to her without looking away from the ugly thing in front of me.

    I heard silence, then a firm voice. "No."

    I swiveled slowly from my crouched position and looked back at her. Her face was tired and her jaw bunched up in tension, but her eyes were clear and serious.

    "It would be better if we didn''t leave Thorsten alone too long, even if he''s tied up." I tried in as reasonable a voice as I could manage.

    She bit her lower lip and dropped her brows in worry, but her reply was strong and firm "No. I''m staying here with you."

    I sighed and looked down at the floor. "You don''t have to be part of this," I nearly whispered. I looked up at her again without standing, and forced my face to soften in a tender expression. "Leave it to me."

    If anything, Bushra''s gaze became harder. "Whatever you have to do, I''ll help. It''s my trial too."

    I didn''t understand, but felt the rising rage inside me break at that point, like a cresting wave. As it receded like the tide, it left behind an icy emptiness that sucked the breath from my lungs. I still felt my pulse throbbing and a tightness in my chest, but it was almost like the dull ache of a remembered injury, painful, but numb.

    The crouching mess on the floor couldn''t tear its eyes away from the ring I still held. A weird laugh escaped from his throat, shaken and thin. "You don''t get it," he muttered, flecks of spittle flying from his lips. "She''s a threat now because of that fucking app. Even if we don''t need it anymore. He got what he wants, now he''s just cleaning up!" His eyes broke from my hand, and started wandering around the interior of the van like a caged animal.

    "If ''he''s'' so safe, why give you this?" I gestured with the ring, and I felt his sharp reaction, rage, fear, and a desperate need. "What does he still have to get?" I countered.

    His burning eyes shifted away from the ring and locked on mine. "You don''t know a damn thing, you dumb, ignorant bitch!" His voice rose in volume and pitch, ending in a screeching wail that reverberated in the close confines of the van.

    I put back on the smug grin from before, and looked back down at him. "I know you are in some deep shit¡­ Bruce was it?" In his own mind, he was a predator and I was prey. This was an intolerable situation to his ego. I wanted him as angry as possible, to push him as hard as I could, to see what broke loose. And I could feel that reaction building via Augur''s Insight. But the fear was there, too, rising, pushing him to run, to escape.

    He shook his head from side to side, lips pulled back tight across clenched teeth. "You DON"T know! You know NOTHING!"

    "You''re afraid of him." I purred low, with no idea who ''he'' was. I had to keep prodding, keep him off balance. "Like a little child who has no idea why he''s frightened. Told where to go, what to do, with no idea why."

    "No, I''m his hands he said! He wouldn''t throw me away." He was mumbling to himself now, panting. "He gave me that, my revenge!" His chin jutted toward the ring. "I would finally get what I deserved!" The arrogance and rage swelled, overcoming the fear for a moment. The corners of his mouth turned up in a sneer.

    "Oh, you''ll get what you deserve." I shook my head slightly in mock pity. "His hands? His pawn, more like it. Disposable."

    That shook him. I had a moment to regret that last poke as his face crumbled and his whole body began quivering.

    "No no no no nononono!" His head was shaking back and forth, as if by sheer force he could keep the fear at bay.

    Maybe if I showed him a way out, an illusory escape. "If you tell me, we can get to him first. You can get away." I urged. "We can help each other."

    His eyes latched onto me frantically. "You. He was worried about you." A panicked calculus seemed to be going on behind his eyes. "Give me the girl and the ring." His eyes flicked to Bushra. "I''ll take you there. We can take him together." Augur''s Insight confirmed the baldness of his deceit.

    I sighed. "I can''t help you if you''re not honest with me, Bruce. I''ll hold onto this," I pocketed the ring, and his eyes tracked it like a starving wolf stalking a meal. "But you have to give me something more concrete. Where is he, what''s he after?"

    "No, no, NO!" he screamed, breathing hard. "He''ll kill you, kill me! You can''t run!" His voice became ragged, eyes staring into some terrifying future. "He''ll take you, take it from you, it''s mine, mine! GIVE IT TO ME!" Wild-eyed, he levered his feet up on the side of the van wall and lunged forward. "Urnnnghh!" The weight of his whole body shuddered against the plastic zip tie, biting deeply into the skin around his wrists, straining ¨C and it broke. He fell forward hard, his full weight landing solidly on his left shoulder, and I heard a ominous crack and pop. I quickly stood back and out of the way, nearly running into Bushra in the limited space of the van. But Bushra moved in, almost as if she was waiting for the moment and lashed out with a kick across his temple.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "Ugnh¨C AAAHHGHH!" He suddenly let out a howl that shook the van, and his back arched up, his whole body tensed. "NO! NO! WAIT! WAITWAITWAITWAI¨C" at which point his voice transformed into a gurgling choking, his eyes bulging, neck red and swelling. A viscous dark fluid began bubbling up through his mouth, past the rictus of his lips, followed by a wispy shadow of smoke. Like an insubstantial snake, the smoke slithered its way up and out of Bruce''s throat. It kept coiling up and out, seemingly too large to fit inside the man, while Bruce''s terrible gagging gasps went on and on unintelligibly. Bushra and I jumped out of the van, all the while Bruce''s horror and panic assaulting me via Augur''s Insight¡­ along with something else, something alien and¡­ curious? Hungry?

    "Bushra, that snake thing, can you do that golden kick on it?" I was backpedaling away, unable to tear my eyes away from the coiling miasma filling the rear of the van, rapidly obscuring Bruce''s seizing body from view. I switched off Augur''s Insight in self-protection, and turned on Aura of Inspiration. When I did, I heard something like a hiss in the back of my mind, and felt a weighty attention land on me. The writhing mist lurched, and seemed to pull back as if to strike¡­ when a bright golden light flashed across my vision. Bushra, swathed in radiance, had lashed out with a leg into what appeared to be an insubstantial mist. But her leg seemed to land a hit on something solid within the smoke, and the incandescent aura around her surged forward to eat at the twisting mass. The smoke recoiled from that light, but it was too late ¨C the shadowy form dissolved into thousands of individual tiny cinders that winked like dying fireworks and faded away to nothing. Bushra stood before the entrance to the van, leg fully extended, arms pulled in, eyes sharp and determined.

    I suddenly tripped over something while backing up and landed hard on my ass. As I sat there in awe at Bushra''s poised and, it had to be said, knightly form for the second time today, I heard a ragged whisper from the ground next to me.

    "What the fuck was that," Thorsten murmured, the side of his face pressing awkwardly into a mess of vomit on the concrete ground.

    ? ? ?

    Bruce''s limp and lifeless body lay on the van floor, neck and face swollen and distorted. Blood from the wounds on his face had dried, but it still oozed from the lacerations on his wrists where the zip-tie had been fastened. There was no trace of the smoke snake, or whatever it was.

    Bushra had helped me to my feet, then lifted Thorsten easily from the ground by a his shoulder and pushed him down against the short loading dock wall. I noticed she avoided the mess on his face and clothes, keeping her nose averted.

    "What was that?" She asked him hard, pointing back toward the van with one hand while keeping Thorsten pressed down with her other one.

    "How the hell should I know?" Thorsten yelped, groggily. His eyes still seemed to have a hard time focusing. I must have given him a concussion or something earlier. Good.

    Bushra glared at him, and I decided to intervene.

    "I think now''s the time to call the police," I said. "If this goes any further, there will be a lot more questions we can''t answer." I looked down at Thorsten in contempt. "He''s not lying, he''s really ignorant about what Bruce was doing." I''d turned off the Aura of Inspiration and reactivated Augur''s Insight after the snake dissipated. The edges of my vision were getting fuzzy and I started feeling nauseous, which meant I was pushing my Focus into the danger zone. But I could sense nothing but fear, confusion, and a lingering queasiness coming from Thorsten. Shortly after I felt a swelling sense of lust rising as he stared up at Bushra, and I turned off the skill, exasperated. "He''s still a fucking pervert, though." I said, stepping back away from him. Bushra dropped him and did the same, her nose wrinkled in a grimace of disgust. Thorsten leered opened mouthed, undeterred.

    "Yeah," she said, avoiding looking at Thorsten. "I''ll call the cops. Where are we, anyway?" She looked around at the empty industrial lot.

    I gave her the cross streets, and she looked at me funny. "Hero stuff?" She asked quietly, and I nodded. She shrugged, then pulled out her phone, powered it back on, and dialed 9-1-1.

    While she made the call, I considered the other markers I''d seen on Location. I thought this might be the only opportunity I''d have to investigate them. Leaving the gross man under Bushra''s icy gaze, I lifted myself up on the loading dock and headed toward the interior warehouse.

    I''ll save you the description of my search for the lights, and of scouring of the warehouse and assorted small offices. I left everything where it was, trying to avoid touching anything barehanded or leaving fingerprints. This whole situation was going to be hard enough to explain to the police.

    What I found showed this to be some kind of small-scale electronic parts supplier. In fact, I was sure the drab sounding company name, Custom Components Corp, had been listed in one of the fraudulent invoices I''d been shown.

    One of the markers was in a filing cabinet. It was so neglected, I had to move some bankers boxes stacked in front of it, but a bottom drawer held copies of a business license registration, naming Bruce Paap and Thorsten van den Berg as co-owners.

    The other marker led to a desk drawer in a different office. When I opened it, there were a few office supplies, and a large and expensive looking smartphone with the battery removed. At a guess, Jon''s missing phone. In the dim light I saw a streak of some dried residue, and shuddered. Remembering the terrifying feeling of helplessness under the effects of the ring, any vestigial sympathy for Bruce evaporated away. I clamped my jaw shut, and closed the desk drawer.

    I went back to Bushra, who let me know the police had been dispatched. "What do we tell them?" She asked in a whisper, a sidelong glace toward Thorsten on the ground.

    "Everything about the kidnapping we can tell as it was, except we don''t know how we were paralyzed." I thought for a bit, going back over the events of the night. "We were able to get free as they were trying to move us inside. After we subdued them both and tied them up, we looked around for help. Bruce must have had some kind of seizure or something while we were away." I looked down at Thorsten, speaking a little louder. "He can say whatever he wants. There''s enough evidence here to tie him to kidnapping, embezzlement, fraud, and a host of other crimes. With his¡­ predilections, I''m sure more evidence will be found once people start looking." I frowned in distaste through a pounding headache.

    Bushra pursed her lips in worry. "You think the police will buy all that?"

    "Well, that''s basically what happened. Except for the giant smoke snake." I shrugged. "Hell, I can''t explain that to myself."

    "You can''t?" Bushra looked genuinely surprised. "It''s not, you know, Hero-related?" She lowered her voice for the last bit, but we were far enough from Thorsten he likely wouldn''t have heard anyway.

    "Maybe?" I said. "Iter never mentioned anything like that. I''ve never seen anything like ¨C shit!" I realized suddenly. "I could have appraised it! Damn it!" I clenched both fists tight against my forehead in self-reproach.

    Bushra watched me worriedly, then patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. "Still, with Bruce gone and Thorsten ruined, that''s good, right?"

    I exhaled and unclenched my hands. "Yeah." She was right. Bruce had apparently dogged our steps from the beginning. "Though now we have another problem." I reached into my pocket and pulled out the ring. "Where ¨C and who ¨C did this come from?"

 Chapter 31: On the Right Side of the Law

    "So tell me again how you were ''attacked'' by these men." the bored sounding voice repeated.

    I was in a bland room with charcoal fabric paneled walls with a single door. The air smelled stale and antiseptic, like it had been cleaned a while ago with strong chemicals. I was sitting in one of the two simple plastic chairs with a conference room table with chipped veneer between me and the person across from me. He was in his late-thirties, early-forties, with a shaved head obviously intended to hide a receding hairline. Rumpled gray chinos, shiny black belt, and a lighter gray golf shirt tucked into a growing waistline completed the ensemble. Standing in the corner was an alert woman in her possibly late-twenties with her light-brown hair parted in the middle and pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a nylon jacket with "SLPD" above the breast, navy blue slacks, and blue button down. Her police tactical belt bristled with pockets and equipment, including the smooth black grip of a pistol.

    "From where I sit, there''s not a scratch on you." The older police officer in front of me leaned his head against his forefinger and thumb, looking pointedly at my wrists and face.

    Damn Swift Recovery. All the scratches and bruising from being restrained and thrown about like luggage at an airport had disappeared completely by now. But that hadn''t reduced my fatigue or quelled the nervous cramping in my stomach.

    "Like I said, he didn''t tie me up that tightly. Maybe he didn''t expect me to get up so quickly." While I was visually unscathed, my head was pounding from a focus-deficient hangover. I''d long turned off any skills, as it didn''t take much to tell these officers were suspicious, but also at a loss for how to wrap it up neatly. They were going through the motions now, hoping the physical evidence being gone over elsewhere would turn up something worth pursuing. "That''s how I was able to get myself free." My voice was deadpan and dead tired.

    "Right." He made a show of looking at the notepad in front of him. "That''s when you snuck up behind the guy who didn''t kidnap you, and bashed him in the head." He looked up at me with a weak smile. I wondered in a lightheaded daze what they''d do if I simply passed out on the desk. Probably chuck me in the drunk tank and book me for vagrancy.

    I opted to remain silent. We''d covered all of this, a few times.

    His smile faded and he narrowed his eyes.

    "We found you and your friend at the scene, one man dead with evidence of apparent torture, and another tied up and suffering from an untended wound from blunt force trauma to his head." His voice had lost its lassitude and turned hard. "The only weapons found at the scene was a large cable spool with blood on one end and your fingerprints on the other, and a gun found in your possession." He paused to let his words sink in. "Now we can draw our own conclusions, but it would help us all get home faster if you leveled with us. Maybe it''s like you said," He changed tactics, before I could speak. "This was a kidnapping gone wrong. You and your friend escaped somehow, then decided to make sure they''d never be able to do it again." He paused to gauge my reaction.

    I sighed and blinked slowly, not engaging.

    "You picked up the gun they put down, and forced the big one into the van. You tied him up like he tied you up."

    "So now you believe I was tied up." I remarked bitterly. My head was pounding, doing nothing to soften my mood.

    "Your friend did it," He shrugged, unphased. "Then you watched as she took out her fear and rage on the bastard while he couldn''t fight back. He deserved it, I get it." He tried his weak smile once more. "Maybe I''d''ve done the same." He leaned back in his chair, letting his arms dangle loosely on the armrests. he looked up at his fellow officer. "Right? Would could blame you?"

    "We called you." I repeated tiredly.

    "When things went bad, sure. You were the victims, right?" He shrugged again.

    I shook my head and waited. I wondered how Bushra was doing. They''d been dropping unsubtle hints that she was saying all kinds of things to protect herself. I''d had to keep myself from chuckling at the caricature they were trying to paint of Bushra as a scared, selfish traitor out to save her skin. Even without Augur''s Insight, all it took was one look at her Status to lay bare the lie:

    Disposition: Loyal

    I sat still and closed my eyes, resting my head on my propped up arm. Unbidden, a huge yawn contorted my features and I covered it with a open palm over my face. I was so, so tired, but that seemed to get under his skin.

    "Look," he began, slapping a hand open palmed on the desk, when suddenly the door swung inwards and another officer leaned in.

    "Her lawyer''s here." He jerked his head back toward the hallway and waited.

    ''What?" The seated officer drew his brows down in a deep frown. I sat upright and echoed him in my mind. A lawyer? Was Bushra able to contact someone? I hadn''t asked to call anybody, and they hadn''t offered so far. I assumed we''d be done once they had exhausted their questions, though now on the third round of answering essentially the same things I''d begun to wonder about my strategy. Also, I couldn''t think of anyone I wanted to wake up this early in the morning. Kris had flashed in my mind, but I owed her so much already. I''ll tell her all about it later, but there was no reason to drag her down here.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    The male officer stood up and went outside with the other one, leaving me alone with the woman who remained standing and watching me with wary eyes.

    It didn''t take long before the door opened again, and a well-dressed individual in a three-piece suit entered, nodding to me and the officer in the corner. The suit was a cream-colored affair with thin lapels and gold buttons, with a wide white silk tie with a black half-circle emblazoned just beneath the knot. My mouth hung open in shock, but I had to admit it was a sharp look together with their tightly curled white hair and perfectly triangular white beard. Lex''s serious mouth turned up at the corners in a tight smile, followed by a warmer voice than I''d ever heard from them. "Ms. Carrigan? Time to go home."

    Leaving the hall, I saw Bushra and Iter in the main office. Bushra gave me a weak little smile, but Iter was all grins.

    "Mai!" He held up a hand in a beckoning wave.

    The officer who''d been interrogating me was standing next to them with a look like he''s swallowed something sour. "Ms. Carrigan and Ms. Patel are material witnesses to a suspicious death, and¡­ "

    "And, pursuant to Penal Code section 1326 of the legal code of the State of California, a material witness can be released on their own recognizance," Lex intoned, undeterred. "Furthermore, Our client has received no warrant or subpoena required by section 1334, and section 1334.5 also provides for the release of a material witness, if such witness were a victim of human trafficking, which Our clients maintain was the case. In addition, per section 1337, if testimony can reasonably be preserved through other means¡­"

    "Fine! Fine! You''re free to go! Get outta here, and take them with you!" The officer cut Lex off, who seemed to be warming to the topic. He motioned frantically to a nearby desk where my bag was resting. I noticed Bushra already had hers.

    "Your stuff is here, all accounted for. We''ll be holding onto the gun, if your friend here doesn''t mind." He jutted a chin stubbornly at Lex.

    "The weapon is not Our clients'', and therefore not our concern." Lex answered smoothly. "We do hope you will consider the demerits of allowing the perpetrators of this affair to regain access to it, of course." They raised an eyebrow elegantly in inquiry.

    "What? Uh, yeah. We''re retaining the gun as evidence." He turned to the other detective at his elbow and asked in a not very quiet voice. "Who is this guy?"

    "Merely a humble servant of Our client and the Law." If Lex''d had a hat on, I sincerely believe they would have tipped it. "Good day to you, gentlemen." They nodded slightly, and pressed a hand lightly on my back toward the door. I obliged and led the way out of the station, absolutely failing to keep a bemused smile from my lips.

    ? ? ?

    "How did you know where we were?" I rounded on Iter and Lex after we''d reached the street. The sky was just starting to brighten from a deep purple to lighter violets and oranges. The air was chill, and I wrapped my arms around my body despite the warmth of my coat. White clouds formed in the air as I spoke, and I saw Bushra''s breath condensing in the brisk pre-dawn glow as well. Watching their faces intently in the brightening dark, I noticed the two gods emitted no puffs of white of their own.

    "We always know where you are." Iter replied, as if this was obvious. "When We saw you had ceased traveling a second time, We investigated and discovered it was a police station. We were concerned, and convinced Our kin Lex to accompany Us to collect you."

    "You mean you could have come get us at any time?" I yelled, letting my pent up anger and frustration spill out.

    "Uh, maybe we should have this discussion later?" Bushra was looking nervously back towards the station doors. They were closed, but dim figures could be seen moving around inside. "Like, somewhere else?"

    I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath, then looked at the three of them. I was too tired to argue with them at this point. "She''s right. Where''s the car?"

    "Car?" Iter asked, head titled to one side. Lex merely stared at me from beneath heavily lidded eyes.

    "Yeah. How are we getting home?" I rubbed the tense spot between my eyebrows in weary exhaustion and envisioned the warm softness of my bed.

    "We traveled here under Our own power," Lex replied. "Machines were an unnecessary inconvenience."

    "Wait, so how are we getting home?" My brain had stopped working, and I looked back and forth between them in bleary-eyed stupor.

    "Oh hell," Bushra exclaimed, catching on first.

    "What?" I asked, uncomprehending.

    "You mean we have to call for a ride?"

    ? ? ?

    Darryn, the ride share diver, dropped us off outside my house. He was the third ride share we attempted, after the first two were abruptly canceled. We caught on, and moved about a block or so down the street, away from the station, and connected with Darryn first try.

    "Hope you all have yourselves a blessed day!" He called out with a wide smile after we opened the doors.

    Darryn was a talkative type, who''d kept up a steady stream of bright conversation the whole trip home. Thankfully, that was brief. Iter was the only one who engaged with him from the front seat, the rest of us were packed into the back of his Hyundai Elantra in silence. I was in the middle, uncomfortably sandwiched between Bushra and Lex. Bushra slumped against the door, facing out the window, while Lex was sitting as straight as a beam, immovable even during the slight bumps and turns in the road. When I saw the seating arrangements, I offered Bushra the front, but she demurred, choosing the driver-side rear seat instead.

    "We graciously accept your blessing, Darryn and offer you one of Our own," Iter replied solemnly, as we all stepped out of the vehicle. A strange light seemed to suffuse the car momentarily, and Darryn''s smile slipped for the first time.

    His grin rapidly recovered, though, and he waved back with enthusiasm. "Why, thank you kindly! God bless!" And he sped away.

    "Indeed," Iter replied to the fading tail lights.

    Lex looked at Iter sourly. "The child hardly did anything worthy of such a miracle."

    "Why, what did Iter do?" I wondered, curious.

    "Only a minor blessing for his Journey." Iter said, waving one hand dismissively. "His Path intersects with so many. You could say he was Our Disciple, of a sort." He smiled at me, and followed Bushra who was already moving toward the door.

    "Hmph," Lex responded, and moved to fall in step behind.

    My feet were leaden and my head felt thick with fog as I brought up the rear.

    I was home.

 Chapter 32: Second Revelations

    "I don''t feel so good," Bushra mumbled at the threshold as I rummaged in my bag for the key to my front door.

    Bushra had been withdrawn all the way home. We''d been separated while at the police station, but if she felt anything like I did after the events of tonight she had to be exhausted. Was it still tonight if the sun was coming up, I wondered? When we left the station it was still dark, with hints of the day to come. Now, the sun had breached the horizon and was gouging the shadows with bright swaths of light between the gaps in houses. It had yet to pierce the chill, however, and my hands prickled as I finally slid the key into the lock.

    Bushra huddled close, and I could see her shivering even in the protection of her puffy coat. I opened the door and led her into the front room, turning on the light as I entered. She sat down heavily on the couch, and I sat down next to her to get a closer look. Dark crescents like bruises were showing under her eyes, and her face was paler than usual.

    I checked her Status.

    Health: 40 [max 60]

    Her condition was normal, but her Health was down. Was she hurt during the fight somehow? I started looking her over to see if I could see any injuries. She had curled up into herself, hands deep in her coat pockets, as if trying to hide in its volume. The shivering had faded now that we were in the warmer interior of my place, but her face was still drawn and tight.

    "Does it hurt anywhere? Were you injured in the fight?" I asked, evaluating her state. Her health wasn''t going up at all. It occurred to me that she had no recovery skills like I did. It reminded me that there were healing-type skills when she''d leveled up, but I hadn''t chosen any in my rush to get free.

    "I feel drained, bruised," she replied. "Not any specific place, just all over." She winced as she tried to sit up a little straighter.

    I felt a hard knot in my chest form as I cursed my past-self. But I hadn''t had time, and we needed to escape. My eyes flicked over her skills. We''d leveled up, so there were attribute points and one more skill available to select. I bit my lip, tempted to select one and fix her right now. But it was her body, her decision. I opened my mouth to let her know about the options.

    "Ah. Has Ms. Patel used any new skills?" Iter interrupted. He had come up next to me and leaned over to peer past my shoulder at her Status. "This one, perhaps?" He pointed to Radiant Strike.

    "Yeah, at least twice tonight," I turned to look at Iter. "Saved our asses." I frowned. I didn''t like where this was going.

    Iter nodded and pressed his lips together. "That would be the most likely cause, then. Radiant Strike sacrifices Health for its power."

    What the fuck! "What kind of cursed skill is that!?" I exploded. So not only was her inability to heal my fault, but I gave her some kind of vampiric power that drained her life away? I glared back at Iter, eyes wide, the knot in my chest pressing against me, making it harder to breathe.

    Bushra looked back and forth between us rapidly, her voice rising slightly in alarm. "What''s all that mean? I''m cursed?"

    I was unable to respond, struggling with the weight of my responsibility. What did this mean? Had I really crippled her in my panic? What the hell kinds of skills are these?

    Fortunately, Iter answered in my stead. "As a Paladin, your class and skills are bent towards protection and service to an ideal or oath," Iter intoned. "A sacrifice is often required to make effective use of them. Do not be alarmed," he held up a hand to forestall my second explosion, and continued. "She will regain any health used in this manner with some form of healing, or after a period of rest."

    I covered my eyes with my hand, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. The knot remained, but it had loosened. Healing or rest, I thought, relieved. I turned and looked over at her, attempting a grin that didn''t quite reach my eyes. "But you might want to hold off on that shiny-kick thing unless you really need it."

    Bushra toppled over, laying her head on the couch cushion next to her, with her feet still on the floor. "I could use some rest." She lifted her head slightly to look over at me. "Any chance I could crash here tonight? I don''t think driving home right now is a good idea, and I really, really don''t want to deal with my mom right now." Her face scrunched up and she let her head fall back down on the cushion.

    "Sure," I smiled, squinting slightly. I patted her booted leg, and stood up. "Let me get some things ready for you. You''ll sleep better in my room tonight than on this couch."

    "By the way," Bushra asked from her prone position. "Why''s your lawyer here? Is it okay to be talking about that stuff with him around?" She pointed at Lex, and lowered her voice. "Client confidentiality''s a thing, but does it cover all this?"

    Lex looked down at Bushra from across the coffee table stoically. I saw their eyes tighten as they glanced between Bushra and the TV, but they offered nothing.

    "This is Lex." I explained. "They''re not my lawyer. They''re, uhm, another god." I grimaced. It would never sound not stupid saying things like that out loud.

    Bushra''s drooping eyes suddenly went wide. "The one that fired you?!" She gasped.

    I winced, but replied in an even tone, "No, a different one. They showed up recently." I looked back and forth between Iter and Lex. When neither offered anything more, I added, "I''m not sure why they helped out, but I''m glad they did." I turned to face Lex directly. "Thank you." I paused, unsure how one thanked a god, exactly. Did I need to make some kind of offering, or light incense, or something? I settled for an awkward little bow. Lex inclined their head in response, but otherwise remained silent.

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    After an uncomfortable pause, I looked around at each them, and clapped my hands together. "Well. I need to put down some clean sheets and tidy up a bit. But first, I need a drink stiff enough to bounce a Gold Maple Leaf off of it. Anyone else care to join me?"

    ? ? ?

    I ended up pouring two glass tumblers of roughly a double shot each of Hillrock Bourbon that I saved for special occasions. It was a beautiful rectangular glass bottle of caramel colored liquid, and it was definitely my favorite among the small cache of liquor I kept in the house. This wasn''t quite the type of occasion I''d had in mind, but fuck it. I dropped a couple of ice cubes in each, and made my way back to the front room.

    Iter had relaxed in the lounge chair next to the sofa. Lex was seated stiffly in my desk chair, turned to face the rest of the room. Taiga had made an appearance, jumping up onto the couch and lying in space in front of Bushra. Bushra was awkwardly petting the cat from that angle, and Taiga''s eyes were narrowed in pleasure, her purring filling the silence in the room.

    I crossed over and handed one of the glasses to Bushra, who sat back up, dislodging Taiga, who moved to take up the warmed spot Bushra had left. I settled next to Bushra on the other side of the couch cradling the other glass in both hands. I paused and took a deep sniff of the complex sweet and oaky fragrance by way of apology, and then took a big gulp of the amber liquid. The burning travelled down my throat, and then seemed almost to rise back up and fill my mouth and nose with its stinging vapors. God, that felt good. I breathed in slowly through my nose, then took another, gentler sip this time.

    A bout of coughing erupted next to me. "Oh god, how can you drink this?" Bushra asked between gasps, her face scrunched up in pain.

    "It''s better sipped," I smiled gently. "Not a whiskey fan?"

    "No," she replied immediately, nose scrunched up in aversion. Then she cautiously raised the cup to her lips again and sipped tentatively. "It burns like diesel fuel with sugar in it." She grimaced again. "I''m mostly a wine drinker."

    "Mmm," I acknowledged, and took a third mouthful. I rolled the liquid fire around in my mouth, savoring the intense flavors and sensations. I was no whiskey connoisseur by any means, but I enjoyed it nevertheless. I saw Bushra eye her cup uncertainly, before lowering it to rest in her lap. No converts tonight, it seemed.

    "Why aren''t they drinking with us?" Bushra asked as I was contemplating what to do next. "Not against their religion or anything, is it?"

    "We do not have a religion," Iter replied. "That is a purely mortal construct, but one We encounter from time to time. Some of Our kin engage with it more than others. But Belief is¡­ messy." He frowned, his attention directed inward.

    "There are many Laws governing the consumption of alcohol, but We are beyond their jurisdiction," Lex added tangentially.

    "They don''t like how it feels to swallow," I followed up with a smirk before taking another sip. "Don''t know what their missing."

    Both gods grimaced at my bald statement.

    "What is a god?" Bushra asked, looking down at her glass contemplatively. I wasn''t sure if she was talking to herself, or really asking.

    "What are humans?" Lex countered. "Mammals. Mortals." He looked at Iter, and added after a pause, "Messy."

    "Finite in existence," Iter elaborated. "Infinite in variation." He smiled pertly, his eyes twinkling back at Lex, as if picking up a long-standing argument.

    "Troublemakers." Lex glowered.

    "And gods?" Bushra persisted, looking up between them. I watched them as well. It had been over a week now, and I had yet to ask this question. Why? I wondered to myself in the pause that followed.

    "Gods are¡­" Iter paused, and tilted his head. "¡­ more enduring. Less ephemeral." He looked over at Bushra, a more serious look on his face. It was as if his previous friendly demeanor was stripped away, revealing something colder and ancient. Not threatening, but as immense and deep as an undersea trench, unfathomable. "We embody an Ideal, a facet of existence. We Are, Were, and Will Be." He gave her a complicated smile, but his eyes were old and endless. Even with that gaze directed at Bushra instead of me, I felt like I was being dragged into their depths. I unconsciously pulled back in some vague attempt to avoid that precipice.

    Bushra seemed to have difficulty speaking for a moment, but I saw her fingers tighten on the glass she held as she refused to look away.

    "What is magic?" she asked quietly, seeming to force the words out.

    Iter blinked, and the moment was broken. The more genial expression settled once more over his features like a mask, and he put a hand to his cheek in a contrived gesture. "That is an enigma. Magic is foreign, alien to Us. It is a force, but it shows semblance of life. It grows, alters, spreads along Paths of its own."

    "It follows no Law," Lex added, deep and disapproving. "It lacks purpose."

    "It is Want without desire," Iter continued, "Hunger without need. Change without intention."

    "It is dangerous," Lex intoned.

    "And, it''s here." I pulled the ring from my pocket and placed it on the coffee table before us.

    ? ? ?

    Lex was the first to react. They seemed to be standing over the table with no movement at all, glaring down at the ring as if they could erase its presence through antipathy alone.

    "Where did you acquire this!" Lex rumbled. Their volume was no louder than before, but their voice seemed to reverberate inside my head like thunder.

    "Bruce Paap, the man who attacked us." I set my drink down on the coffee table. "He held us immobile with that." I weathered the intensity of the god''s regard, and nodded at the ring. "Appraisal says it is a Ring of Paralysis. But that doesn''t exist here, outside of stories and games."

    Iter was also on his feet, more slowly, intentionally. He leaned down to peer at the ring more closely, using what senses or skills I had no idea. A moment later, the dark red gemstone in the ring sparked. It jumped half an inch from the surface of the table, then lay still. Taiga hissed at the table, then darted from the room, and I felt Bushra jolt.

    "It is indeed a vessel of Magic." He leaned back, his eyes never leaving the ring, his hand rubbing his mouth and jaw in such a human gesture it felt both reassuring and chilling at the same time.

    "So how is that possible?" I asked the obvious question.

    "It is not." Lex replied unhelpfully, then reached out toward the ring. A small globe of shimmering light encased the ring momentarily, before it faded to something resembling a soap bubble which rose from the table and hovered over Lex''s hand. "But We intend to resolve this paradox. Iter," they added, looking at the other god. An unspoken conversation seemed to pass between the two of them.

    "We shall accompany you," Iter finally responded in a defeated tone of voice. "But We shall return." His smile rebounded, his eyes lighting up in confidence as he nodded toward me. "Our Hero has demonstrated her capacity once more. We trust you to safeguard this world until Our reunion."

    "Wait, what do you¡­" I began, but both Iter and Lex had disappeared, as if they never were there to begin with.

    Taking the ring with them. I frowned at the slight scorch mark that now marred the surface of my coffee table not far from my nearly empty drink.

    "Shit," Bushra gaped at the empty room, took her own glass, and gulped down the remainder of its contents.

    ? End of Act 2 ?

 Chapter 33: After a Long Rest

    For the second time in as many days, I woke up on the couch. The front room was flooded with sunlight, and I had to shield my eyes with my hand. I felt a warm presence nestled into the nook made by my legs and stomach as I rested on my side. Taiga''s mottled head was resting on her arms as they extended out in front of her. Black and orange pointed ears twitched at my movement, but otherwise her eyes remained closed. I could hear her soft, even breathing in stillness of the house.

    Trying not to jostle her, I reached out to the coffee table in front of me and found my glasses. My vision was improved, if not my sense of dislocation. Taiga slitted her eyes open in disapproval. Then she extended her claws and pulled her body back in a lithe stretch and wide yawn, before deciding this was the perfect time and place for a feline bath. I sat up to avoid her kitty morning breath, and she paused with her rear leg held high in the air and looked back at me in offense.

    I was still squinting as I picked up my phone from the coffee table and checked the time. It was 12:46pm. I massaged at the stiffness in my neck and shoulders and threw aside the rest of the comforter. I was wearing a lengthy, soft night shirt and light grey striped lounge pants. I rubbed the crust from my eyes and blearily looked around. Recalling last night''s/this morning''s events, I glanced toward the hallway where I could just see the bedroom door. It was still closed. Assuming Bushra was still asleep, I stood up and stepped into some nearby slippers against the cold floor. Then I made my way across the creaky old wooden floors to kitchen. The concept of coffee consumed my thoughts and promised a purchase on the conclusion of the past night''s events.

    Cup. Water. Pod. Button. Interminable, immeasurable, inexhaustible, illimitable infinity. Sugar. Drink. Aaahhhhh.

    "You look like you''ve received a revelation." Bushra stepped into the kitchen, wearing the same clothes from last night, if more rumpled. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her eyes drooped in fatigue. But her complexion was healthy and her smile was lively, a far cry from her appearance the previous night.

    "I have," I answered seriously. "Coffee is God. I forsake all other unworthy deities for the one true divinity. Behold its power!" I held the cup aloft in reverence, and then brought it to my lips for another sip.

    "Well, I think Iter might be sad to hear that, Saint Mai," she chuckled. "I don''t suppose you have more of that tea around?"

    "Iter can go worship himself," I replied, opening a cupboard and showing her the cannisters. Then I went to fill the kettle and turn on the burner on the stove. "Would you like anything else for breakfast? I haven''t had time to do any shopping as I''ve recently been hit by a car, started a company, and kidnapped. Provisions are a bit thin as a result." I opened the refrigerator and discovered some leftover machaca from Rose''s I had on¡­ Sunday? It was probably still good. Besides that, there was little else save condiments, wilted vegetables, and alcohol. It looked like a college dorm refrigerator. Frankly, it was embarrassing. "Uhm. I have some leftover machaca¡­" I trailed off.

    "Just tea for starters, thanks," she demurred, but as if decreed by the god of comedy, right at that moment her stomach let out a plaintive gurgle. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she covered her midsection with her hand in a futile gesture.

    "Why don''t we go out and get something more substantial." I smiled, and she grinned back sheepishly.

    ? ? ?

    "Irasshaimase!" came out in a chorus from the very busy staff as we stepped into Sanjuro''s Sushi Restaurant. It was actually the first location, as they''d launched a second, larger one on the island recently. But I''d been going to this place for years, since they first converted it from a failed cheesesteak eatery. The menu was broader than just sushi, the food was delicious, and the prices were unpretentious. But above all, I adored the art the owner put up around the place ¨C heavy black brushwork on white laminate wood of various figures from Japanese film and anime like the Seven Samurai and My Neighbor Totoro.

    "Two please," I called out to the host at the cashier station, a younger woman in a green apron and shiny black hair pulled back in a short pony tail. Entering the restaurant required going down a shallow ramp past the open kitchen, the low ceiling giving the space an intimate rather than cramped feeling. Surprisingly for the hour, there was no line, and the smiling host seated us at a table in a rear room right away. I thanked Luck for the possible assist as we threaded through the narrow pathway lined with crowded diners. Menus were efficiently deposited in front of us, and I requested tea and water before the host vanished back into the throng of patrons.

    "I''m not much for sushi," Bushra said uneasily across from me as she opened the menu.

    "Don''t worry, they have several non-sushi options. I recommend the spicy seafood ramen, if you''re okay with a little heat," I suggested.

    "Please. I was practically nursed on Masala," she smirked, and searched for the dish on the menu as if challenged.

    For myself, I liked to keep it simple. I barely glanced at the menu, before giving up and going with my usual order of Sake Nigiri, Hamachi Nigiri, along with some miso soup, edamame, and tempura. Some day I''d try one of the more elaborate rolls, or maybe opt for the katsu curry. But today was not that day.

    After relaying our orders to the waitress (Bushra had gone with the ramen and an order of tempura as well), I looked across the table at Bushra. She was looking to the side at one of the magnificent full wall murals of Toshiro Mifune from one of his many r¨­nin roles.

    "So how''re you feeling?" I asked. I''d checked on our way here, and Bushra''s Health was back up to full. But I wondered how she was taking everything.

    "Hungry, but a thousand percent better than last night," she turned back toward me. "Iter said that was because of that thing I used? A skill?"

    "Yeah," I grimaced. "One of the skills I picked for you, Radiant Strike, apparently consumes Health." I tried to put up an apologetic smile, but it started to crumble almost immediately, and I looked away.

    She was silent a moment. I braced myself for her recrimination. I couldn''t stand it anymore and looked up and searched her face. She was focused inward and biting her lower lip.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "So you can see all of that for me, my skills and things?" she asked finally.

    "Hunh? Yeah," I replied, off balance. That wasn''t the direction I thought she was going. "Your attributes, skills, even your inventory."

    Her eyebrows raised at that last one, then immediately dropped in a confused frown, before she shook her head. "I don''t know why, but knowing you can see the inside of my bag seems more worrisome than that you can see information about my body and stuff for some reason?" A small, confused smile played about her lips.

    "Uhm, would you like to know what your Status says?" I asked. It felt only fair to level the playing field a little bit.

    "Yeah," she accepted, nodding. "Can you do that? Show it to me?"

    "Not exactly," I answered, then reached into my bag for a pen. I didn''t have any paper, but I took a paper napkin and started writing out what I saw on her Status page.

    "That''s surprisingly low-tech. Or, low-magic?" She stumbled trying to find an analogue, then laughed. "I dunno, I was expecting something more fantasy-esque, like a Marvel movie."

    "Yeah, well get used to disappointment," I made a face as I continued writing. "None of this has ever gone like I expected." I finished transcribing her Status screen and handed it over.

    Bushra took the napkin, and looked it over with a scrunched up expression. I answered questions as best I could about what each attribute and skill meant and how it worked, based on what I remembered or experienced.

    "So I''m stronger now," she murmured, eyes scanning the napkin.

    "Not only strong, but Body applies to a number of physical traits, like stamina, general health, and resistance to things that affect that. You should have a higher alcohol tolerance now, for example." I raise my water in salute.

    She frowned, possibly remembering the whiskey last night. Then her brows relaxed, but her mouth remained pursed in thought.

    At which point the waitress arrived with our food. She set down a huge bowl of ramen in front of Bushra, two plates of tempura and a plate of edamame in the center of the table, and then miso soup and two small plates of nigiri sushi in front of me. The aroma of the rich broth from Bushra''s ramen flowed across the table, and I reconsidered for a moment my lack of adventurousness. With a slight bow, the waitress left the table, and for the next few minutes we ate in silence.

    "What''s a paladin?" Bushra asked at last, dipping her chopsticks in the bowl to pull up several long noodles and blow on them.

    I thought as I bit through the crisp texture of the piece of tempura I was eating. "It''s kind of like a knight or champion?" I finally replied after swallowing. "Different games have different expressions of the class." I tried to think of an easily recognizable comparison. "Think Captain America, from Avengers."

    She grinned wryly. "I''d like to be Captain Marvel more. Flying around firing lasers sounds better than throwing a shield."

    "She was pretty badass," I agreed. "But a paladin," I continued, "tends to be focused on protecting others. They draw their strength from their devotion to an ideal or oath."

    "I need to swear an oath?" Bushra''s brows went up, as she slurped her noodles from the bowl.

    "Uhm, I''m not sure? It''s generally used for flavor or roleplay purposes in games, but there are mechanical aspects to it sometimes." I looked at her concerned face and added, "Usually you''d need to take an oath to take the class. In your case, you already have it, so I don''t think it''s absolutely required?" Normally I''d ask Iter about something like this. I wondered how long it would take to do whatever it was he and Lex were doing.

    "Hmph," she replied between mouthfuls.

    "By the way, we can both level up again. It happened after I picked up that ring from Bruce."

    "What really?" Bushra held her chopsticks and ramen spoon to either side of her bowl. She paused. "Have you leveled up a lot?"

    "This is the third time for me. Second for you. But this time you can tell me what you want to increase or which skills to add. I wrote the available skills at the bottom there, as well as the number of attribute points." We both had 10 points, and 1 skill option.

    Her available skills were similar to the list that I saw for her last time, with two new options: Champion''s Resolve, Guardian''s Bulwark, Healing Touch, and Timely Counter from before, plus the new skills Swift Regeneration and Blood Oath. I knew about Swift Regeneration, but the other one sounded grim.

    "Can you also level up?" Her eyes were quickly scanning the napkin to go over the different skill options.

    "Yeah, and¡­ " I paused a moment, looking back at the Status window I had up to confirm what I saw earlier. Then I added softly, "It looks like Kris can, too." That was the cause of the double level-up messages I''d seen at the time. Even though Kris wasn''t around, apparently simply being in my party allowed her to share in the rewards. And it looks like she shot up to Level 4 to match Bushra and me.

    "Really?!" Bushra''s voice carried over the din of lunch crowd diners, and she ducked her head in embarrassment before leaning forward and repeating herself more quietly. "Really? Does Kris know about all this hero stuff?"

    "Not a bit of it. She joined my party on Monday after we left the coin dealer." I smiled weakly. She was so frustrated with me that day for not shopping the loot around. She was going to be even more angry that she wasn''t the first person in my party.

    Bushra looked at me gravely over her bowl of ramen, and prodded, "Are you going to tell her?"

    I swallowed. Telling Bushra was one thing. We were in the middle of some crazy circumstances then. But Kris? How could she possibly believe me? What if she did?

    Bushra saw my hesitancy. "Do you want Kris in your party? Or as part of our company?" she inquired.

    "As part of our company, absolutely, we''d be beyond lucky to have her. She''s quick, smart, and fearless when it comes to numbers. I''m not so sure about getting her involved in the hero''s party business, though¡­ " I trailed off.

    Bushra waited, then added softly, "She''s your friend. Right?" she questioned.

    "Yeah, of course, all the more reason¡­ " I sputtered.

    "If she were in trouble, wouldn''t you want to help her out?" Bushra cut over my protesting.

    I could see where she was leading me. "It''s not that simple." I backpedaled.

    "Why not?" her brow came down in confusion.

    I couldn''t think of how to reply. The words weren''t there. Kris was my friend. But all I ever did was burden her down with my problems. My throat seized up, and I had to force a swallow to continue. "I already owe her too much," I finally let out. "It''s not fair to ask any more." My fist clenched on the table, as if trying to find a grip on an intangible purchase, anything to keep me from falling away.

    Bushra''s lips tilted upwards gently, before reaching out her hand and covering mine. "Friendship is a gift," she began, her voice hesitant but kind. "Sometimes it is a hard one to receive." She squeezed my hand, her warmth pressing into mine. "But you are worth that gift. The act of giving proves it." Her voice was low and fierce, cutting through my denial.

    I felt my muscles freeze up, then loosen abruptly, my body shivering in release of so much pent up tension. I blinked rapidly. Part of me wanted to pull away and run. To reject. But her tender gaze held me there, yanked me so off balance that I was falling into it. The flight impulse wasn''t gone. But it was enough.

    "Okay," I replied, pulling my hand smoothly out from under hers. "I''ll tell her. Let me go call her now."

    I was in a daze as I left the table and walked toward the restaurant entrance. I saw Bushra''s eyes follow me in concern, but she stayed seated. I kept walking past the other patrons, knowing if I didn''t do this now I''d find another reason to delay later. I reached the exterior and the bright but false winter sun blinded me momentarily in its chill brilliance. I stepped away from the frontage a few feet, squinting. I pulled out my phone with its cracked screen, and mechanically called Kris'' number.

    "Hey Kris," I began immediately when she picked up the call. "Would you be able to swing by my place tonight after work?" I hurried to get the words out quickly before she could interject or I could change my mind. "I, uh, need to catch you up to speed on some things."

 Chapter 34: Strong Bonds

    "Okay, I''ve picked my skills."

    Bushra sat with her legs pulled up on the couch, looking at her laptop. The fading sunlight of a winter afternoon shone though the blinds. We''d returned from our late lunch shortly after I''d spoken with Kris. I could tell from her tone of voice that Kris was confused and worried, but she''d agreed to come over after work.

    Bushra had been quiet all during the walk home, whether giving me some space or dealing with her own concerns I couldn''t tell. Probably both. But after we made it back, she started grilling me about attributes and skills. I tried to answer with the information I had. Eventually, I shared with her the online doc and simple spreadsheet I''d put together for myself. She had been perusing it and asking clarifying questions ever since.

    I had my own laptop out, updating the docs in real-time. I incorporated the additional info from my last level up as I tried to answer her questions. ''I''m not sure'' or ''I need to ask Iter'' were the most common responses. The size of the docs were growing rapidly, but so were the blank areas. Sometimes I was able to try something out with our abilities to test out our suppositions. Often that led to more questions.

    For instance, Bushra was interested in the range and details about our inventory swapping. We moved around to different rooms in the apartment, and she even went outside at one point to see if we could figure out a range or any other limitations. It seemed that it didn''t matter where we were in relation to each other, if there were walls or other obstacles in the way, as long as the item was in her inventory and I had an open inventory ''slot'', I could move it back and forth between us. Out of curiosity I peeked into Kris'' inventory and saw a pen she was unlikely to miss, and tried moving it to my bag. It worked. I showed Bushra. The shock on her face was likely a mirror of my own. I quickly put the pen back in Kris''s bag, and we sat together in silence as we pondered the implications of instantaneous transportation. If I had a big enough bag, how much could I move? I pondered briefly the pros and cons of creating a freight transportation company. Hell, we could be an orbital delivery system if one of us was on the International Space Station. It was mind boggling.

    I shook my head, and focused on my Status again. Like my last level up, I''d received 10 more attribute points. But I was back down to one additional skill point. It seemed Bushra had the same as me this time. I guess it was because she went up two levels last time and only one now. A quick look at Kris'' leveling options confirmed she''d also reached level 4 to match us, and she had 30 attribute points and 4 skill points to spend. Leveling seemed tied to the hero rather than party members individually. That makes sense for a video game where the NPCs and enemies stayed close to the player''s level for balancing gameplay. But why would that be the case in ''reality''? And why were the skill points distributed each time different? And why was I putting quotes around ''reality'' now? I didn''t understand the leveling, or quests, or any of the backend mechanics going on. Maybe with two other people to compare it would make more sense. The problem was the small sample sizes and no way to experiment, since as far as I could tell skill selection was permanent.

    "So what did you choose?" I replied belatedly, giving up on that train of thought and bending over my laptop to pick up a lukewarm mug of coffee and take a sip. I made a face and considered refreshing it with a new cup.

    "Well, since my skills so far seem to revolve around using Health, I''m going with that Swift Regeneration you mentioned." She paused, a slight furrow to her brow. "It was either that or the healing one."

    "Healing Touch? Yeah that makes sense," I agreed.

    "You said you didn''t know how that one worked, whether I could heal myself or not, or how much," she looked over to me for confirmation, and I nodded. It would probably work on whoever she selected, including herself, but I had no way to know for sure. "Slow and steady recovery works me." She grimaced, and I thought about how she looked last night. If running out of Focus made me pass out, running out of Health sounded worse.

    "Okay," I nodded again in confirmation. "What about your attribute points?"

    "Honestly, I think I''m going to throw those all in Body, too. Nothing wrong with being strong." She grinned broadly, bringing up her arms to flex her biceps.

    I chuckled. "Sounds good." I opened her Status, and looked back over at her. "You sure? You don''t have to decide right away."

    "Let''s do it!" She beamed, obviously excited.

    I made the selections, and turned back to her. "Done," I saw her gaze turn inward, a slight frown appearing. "Everything alright?"

    <blockquote>

    Name: Bushra Patel

    Race: Human

    Class: Software Engineer, Paladin

    Level: 4

    Condition: Normal

    Disposition: Loyal

    Core Attributes

    Body: 70

    Spirit: 30

    Mind: 75

    Luck: 10

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 70

    Magic: 0 [max 30]

    Focus: 75

    Charm: 50

    Intuition: 72

    Will: 52

    Fate: ???

    Skills

    Divine Translation (Party), Inventory (Party), Righteous Resistance, Unarmed Proficiency, Radiant Strike, Swift Regeneration

    </blockquote>

    "I don''t really feel any different," she answered, a bit of disappointment in her voice. "It''s a bit anticlimactic."

    "I know what you mean," I looked around. "Maybe we can test your new strength, see how it compares." Other than furniture, I didn''t really have a lot of heavy objects in the house. Then I looked through the doorway and into the kitchen. "Come with me," I said, setting my laptop on the table. She followed suit and we both moved into the kitchen.

    "What now?" She asked, looking around.

    "Try lifting that," I said, and pointed to the refrigerator.

    "What?!" She squeaked, and I smirked.

    "With your Body at 70, that should be a good test. Numerically, you''re almost twice as strong now as you were last week." She was looking at me with incredulity, and I resisted the urge to laugh. "Don''t worry about it, just try to move it a little. No need to juggle it," I couldn''t resist adding, "yet."

    "Hmm," Bushra pursed her lips in thought, ignoring me, as she regarded the bulky appliance. "I wonder if I can get a good enough handhold," she murmured, moving forward.

    "Lift with your legs," I offered, grinning. She raised a middle digit my direction without looking, then moved to the side of the appliance and squatted down, grabbing the sides. She readied herself, muttered, "This is stupid," and attempted to lift the refrigerator.

    The refrigerator catapulted off the floor easily, smacking into the bottom of an overhanging set of built-in cabinets with an audible crunch.

    "Fuck!" Eyes wide in surprise, Bushra let go, and the refrigerator fell the half-a-foot back to the ground with a crash. Glass and metal rattled inside, and I was inwardly relieved the appliance was mostly empty. I feared for the cleanup job in my future. Stepping back and looking up, there was a visible dent and cracked paint in the underside of the wooden cabinets. A crack in the glass pane of one of the cabinet doors was visible.

    "Shit. My bad, my bad," I was quick to assure Bushra, who''s eyes were wide in shock and horror at the damage. "I''d forgotten about the cabinets there." Being above the refrigerator, I couldn''t reach the cabinets without a stepladder. They may as well have not existed ¨C except if someone were trying to lift the refrigerator up, for example.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    "Imsorry Imsorry shit Imsorry!" Bushra incanted in desperate apology as she backed away, hands clenched in front of her as if to physically hold back her new strength.

    "Seriously, my fault. I should have warned you," I tried to console her. "But still," I went on, shaking my head, "looks like a successful test. Damn girl!" I smiled widely.

    Bushra was silent, staring at the refrigerator, and then at her hands. "Woah."

    ? ? ?

    After that, Bushra was amped up for a bit, trying to lift everything in the apartment. She also appeared to have much greater dexterity and bodily control, as she demonstrated by balancing various objects, doing flips, and generally acting like a cross between a circus performer and a two-year old. I was worried the noise might bring Mrs. Klein over to complain. But I let her get it out of her system, as long as she promised to avoid further damage. I went back to the lounge chair in the front room and considered my own options for leveling up.

    My skill list was roughly the same as last time. Interestingly, the magic skills were still grayed out. That they appeared at all seemed to indicate they could be selected, if conditions were right. Maybe. I wasn''t sure if that was comforting or frustrating. I now knew there was someone else in this world with magic who was willing to use it against me. Having some of my own would be a good defense.

    The combat skills were also now more attractive. If Bushra hadn''t been around I may not have survived the events of last night. But I also experienced how quickly my Focus dropped after using skills back to back. Aura of Inspiration was particularly draining. I looked over the new skills, hoping there was a a better option:

    Improved Inner Eye

    Improved Adept of Ages

    Improved Fortune''s Favor

    All upgrade versions of passive skills for Spirit, Mind, and Luck. Strangely, there was no ''Improved Champion of Light'' upgrade. Maybe I hadn''t used Body much, so I didn''t unlock it? Or was I locked into a support class template now? Who knows.

    The benefits of improving Spirit or Luck were interesting, but also less likely to have an immediate benefit. Improved Appraisal was still available and still as tempting as when I saw it last time. I decide to leave it alone for the same reasons as before ¨C too much risk of being useless, especially in a fight. So I could either improve my fighting ability with Unarmed Combat, or upgrade Mind and all the associated attributes and skills. Or I could wait, and see if I could use the new skill point situationally. I have to say, I was hoping for something more useful this time around. But sometimes you have to build for the future.

    I ended up choosing Improved Adept of Ages as my skill. What finally made my decision was how I was able to use Focus to resist the effects of the Ring of Paralysis. It appeared to be my best defense right now against magical attacks, so it seemed like a good idea to develop that strength.

    As for my attribute points, I dropped them all in Mind for the same reason. That, and seeing Bushra lift a refrigerator with a Body of 70 made me curious to see what impressive things I could do with Mind in that range.

    <blockquote>

    Name: Mai Carrigan

    Race: Human

    Class: Hero

    Level: 4

    Condition: Normal

    Core Attributes

    Body: 40 (x1.25 = 50)

    Spirit: 70 (x1.25 = 87)

    Mind: 70 (x1.5 = 105)

    Luck: 50 (x1.25 = 62)

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 50 (+)

    Magic: 0 [max 87] (+)

    Focus: 105 (+)

    Charm: 68

    Intuition: 77

    Will: 96

    Fate: ??? (+)

    Skills

    Communion of the Soul, Appraisal, Inventory, Divine Translation, Hero''s Journey, Champion of Light, Inner Eye, Adept of Ages, Fortune''s Favor, Swift Regeneration, Spiritual Harmony, Still Mind, Destiny''s Chosen, Inner Alchemy, Follow the Leader, Augur''s Insight, Aura of Inspiration, Improved Adept of Ages

    </blockquote>

    Holy shit! With the combination of increased attribute points and the improved version of Adept of Ages my Focus was now at 105! Like Bushra, I didn''t feel any different, but it was good to see my Focus pool in the triple digits now.

    Bushra bounced back into my field of view. It seems Body improved not just strength and agility, but stamina and energy as well. I made a mental note to stock up on decaf or herbal tea.

    "This rocks!" She leaned in toward me, a hand on each arm of my chair. She had a huge grin on her face, excited by the capabilities of her new body.

    "Yeah, yeah, you''re amazing," I grinned back, poking her lightly in the forehead to get some space. "If you''re done lifting everything in sight, how ''bout we put some of that energy into work?"

    ? ? ?

    By the time the doorbell rang, it was well into evening. The sunlight from earlier had dimmed with the coming of evening and the accumulation of clouds that promised an overnight rain. From time to time a gust of wind caused the branches of the rhododendron outside to scrape noisily against the window glass, but other than that it was silent except for the tapping of keyboards. Bushra was sitting on the couch again, legs folded up and brow furrowed in concentration. She hadn''t looked up from her laptop at the sound, deep into some coding challenge. I checked with Location, and saw the yellow dot of Kris at my door. Better than a video doorbell, I thought, and went to let her in.

    "So what''s the urgency?" Kris was in her conservative work attire, with a bulky and unfitted olive anorak on top. She had a green and grey messenger bag worn across her chest, and her face was flushed slightly from the cold. I wondered in drifting digression if the pen I''d ''borrowed'' briefly was still there.

    "Hey Kris," I began awkwardly, and ushered her in. "Yeah, I have something to tell you."

    "Something about work?" She asked over her shoulder and she began to shed the messenger bag. Then she paused suddenly in the hall, spotting Bushra on the couch. "Oh, hi," she offered after a slight pause. I saw Bushra wave from the couch without looking up. Kris turned back to me, nonplussed.

    "Yeaaah, not really." I rubbed the back of my neck, not sure how to start. I''d tried the conversation a number of times in my head, and nothing sounded less than absolutely delusional. I took a deep breath. No way to start than to start.

    "I''ve experienced some weird shit recently. That car accident? I wasn''t supposed to wake up from that." I tried to put on a humorously apologetic smile and failed.

    Kris frowned deeply. "What do you mean, ''supposed to''?"

    "I died, and a god picked me up to be a hero in another world." Not waiting for a reply, I gave Kris a brief summation of events since the accident: being sent back to the hospital, being healed by my skills, Iter''s presence, the loot, leveling up, everything. I wrapped it up with the events of last night, and how we had escaped. By this time, Kris had sat heavily in the lounge chair, looking up at me with her mouth open and a dumbfounded expression.

    "Wait, you were kidnapped!?" she burst out when I finally stopped talking.

    "Yeah, but we''re safe. The guy who kidnapped us is dead, and the other guy''s in jail." I searched her face, not sure if she was getting it. "My powers and Bushra''s saved us."

    Kris looked over at Bushra sharply, who had put down her laptop and was watching in silence.

    "It sounds totally bonkers, but that''s what happened," she nodded solemnly. "I can''t explain it."

    "There''s more," I added hesitantly. "Since you''re in my party, you have access to skills and stuff, too. You''ve leveled up," I smiled, giving a weak double-thumbs up.

    Kris fell back into the chair, looking up at me, eyes blinking in incomprehension. "In your what?"

    "My party, like an adventuring group. It''s a mechanic," I realized I wasn''t explaining it well. "Like Bushra. Since you joined my team, I guess that''s the company we''re working on, you also were added to my party for this Hero business. That means you can level up and stuff, too."

    Kris'' eyes seemed to dart around inside her head, blinking. I could see her trying to connect any of this to anything sane and reasonable, and failing.

    "Mai, she needs to see it," Bushra cut in. Yeah, that''s probably true. No way anyone would believe this without experiencing it.

    "Okay, uhm, how about this?" Inventory seemed effective with Bushra before. "Why don''t you pick something out of your bag and give it to Bushra. Preferably something unique or recognizable. I''ll turn my back," I said, quickly turning around and bringing up Status.

    "What, like some kind of magician''s trick?" I could hear the aggrievement in her voice.

    "Nothing so simple. Trust me," I added over my shoulder. It sounded feeble in my ears, but I waited to see what she''d do. I was watching her Inventory closely. After a stretched out moment of oppressive silence, I heard some rustling behind me. One of the items disappeared from the list in her bag. I switched over to Bushra''s inventory, and saw that item now listed there.

    "Okay, done," Kris said, and I turned around. With a flourish, I held out my hand and willed the item to appear there.

    "Is this your card?" I asked cheekily, holding out a small leather case like an ID holder or a thin wallet. Kris'' green eyes were wide and staring.

    I looked down, examining the item she chose more closely. It was a picture case, meant to hold a 2.5 x 3.5 picture. It was worn with age, the red leather extremely soft with some cracks near the fold. There was a faded design on the outside. I could just barely make it out as the bejeweled, five-pointed star of the Crystal Star compact from Sailor Moon. Feeling a start of recognition, I opened it. Inside was a picture of two gawky teens in t-shirts and jeans, a brunette and a red-head. The brunette had one arm locked around the red-headed girl''s neck in a rough hug, and the other girl held out both hands in a ''V'' for victory pose. Both girls'' eyes were closed tight from the force of their beaming smiles.

    "You still have this," I breathed.

    "Yeah." I barely heard her whispered reply. "Oh my god, Mai." She was staring at the picture case in my hands, her head shaking from side to side. "How''d you do that?"

 Chapter 35: Alchemical Reaction

    "What the heck is an Alchemist?"

    Kris was sitting on the couch, scrolling through the Status document on her phone in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. Watching Bushra and I demonstrate various skills and powers seemed to have worn her down. I think the thing that shocked her the most was when I took a kitchen knife over to the sink and cut the top of my forearm. That really freaked her out. But her eyes widened even more at the sight of the wound slowly closing up and leaving only a line of dried blood behind, thanks to my old friend Swift Regeneration.

    Bushra had watched closely, too. I could see her appraising the efficacy of the new skill she''d learned second-hand.

    "Does it hurt?" she asked, curiosity and worry mingling in her voice.

    "The cut stings ¨C the skill doesn''t prevent any pain," I replied, wincing. I watched the welling blood cease and the skin begin mending itself together. It was eerie. I shot a look at Kris, and her face was pale and brows knitted together in concern. "But the healing process itself doesn''t hurt. It tingles a bit, that''s all," I mollified.

    After that, Kris looked like she needed a break to process everything. Since none of us had eaten dinner, I suggested pizza, and both women rapidly agreed. It had grown late. The night was as dark as the Bay Area gets with all the light pollution reflecting off the underside of the overcast sky. While no one said it out loud, none of us felt the urge to go out after living through (or hearing about) the events of the previous night. Fortunately, while I had limited groceries in the refrigerator, there was plenty of wine on hand. We''d collectively gone through one bottle of Merlot before the delivery man from Empire Pizza arrived. I was uncorking a Sangiovese when the doorbell rang with our order.

    Now we were all sitting in the front room again, devouring large, foldable slices from Alameda''s only New York-style pizzeria.

    "Mmmmm," Bushra purred, "I may just be super hungry, but this is the best tasting pizza I''ve ever had."

    "The former, definitely," I had no local loyalty. "Empire has a decent pie, but nowhere near the likes of Zac''s, for example." I sipped from my refilled wine glass. In contrast to my words, I''d just finished my second slice. I was glad I ended up ordering a couple pies.

    "Tony''s in North Beach wants a word," Kris chimed in from the seat next to me as she polished off the final bite of crisp, yet chewy crust. "Besides, Zac''s deep dish pie isn''t really pizza, you can''t compare them."

    "I feel like the South Bay misses out on pizza," Bushra lamented. "Everywhere seems to be trying too hard to be upscale, or it''s a chain," she mumbled between mouthfuls.

    A silence settled in as we collectively compared the qualities of our regional favorites with the pizza before us.

    "But seriously, what kind of class is Alchemist supposed to be?" Kris pierced the quiet with an almost plaintive cry. Taiga flicked an ear at her outburst, as she sat gingerly on the couch cushion beside my friend. Her tail was wrapped closely around her, the tip curled up like a candy cane. She had her eyes closed, but she seemed ready to bolt at the slightest movement. I suspect Bushra''s earlier rampage this evening still had her on edge.

    "Honestly, I''m not sure," I answered Kris. Bushra was looking on in silent confusion, and I explained for her benefit. "Alchemists are potion makers or transmuting lead into gold or something. It''s not usually a playable class, outside of JRPGs. Like old school fantasy pharmacists." I was back in my lounge chair, legs crisscrossed beneath me as I tried to transcribe the last line of my Status page to the document Kris was reading.

    Kris narrowed her eyes, as if willing the information out of the screen. "I''m a pharmacist?"

    "I don''t know what kind of class it is," I continued. "Alchemists could do all kinds of crazy things based on ''equivalent exchange'' in anime and books. Or it could simply be a different flavor of magic-using class, like a wizard or a shaman. Or maybe they''re like an artificer, making potions and grenades with varying effects." I wondered if I''d erred in not choosing that Improved Appraisal skill after all.

    "Is this because I make my own skin cleansers at home?" Kris muttered to herself, but loud enough for both Bushra and I to hear in the quiet of the room.

    "What, you make soaps?" Bushra asked out loud what I was thinking.

    "Well, not soaps much anymore. I mostly make herbal masks and serums," Kris seemed a little embarrassed by the admission, but her voice strengthened as she warmed to the topic. "I make most of the skincare products I use now." She pulled her bag over across her lap and reached inside, pulling out a few small, unlabeled plastic lotion cases and bottles ¨C the kind you might transfer liquids into to take on a plane. She began lining them up in a row on the coffee table. "I even tried making some toners and mists recently, too," She held out a particular bottle with a clear looking liquid inside and a spray nozzle on top. "The farmers market at the Ferry Building has a lot of varied, fresh ingredients from local farms. The things I make are cheaper than what you''d get at a store, and also feel a lot cleaner and healthier to use." She paused, looking down at the row of bottles before her as I goggled in surprise at this new facet of Kris'' life I knew nothing about. I took one of the proffered containers and opened it to smell the contents. It was a thick, buttery cream that had a faint scent of roses. "I wonder if baking counts as well?" Kris mused, as I put some of the cream on my fingers and rubbed it on the back of my hand. It felt cool and refreshing, and blended into my skin evenly. The scent was present without being cloying, and it did feel like my skin was softer. I was impressed.

    "I mean, what''s a paladin, anyway?" Bushra chimed in, shrugging her shoulders and smiling in an attempt at solidarity.

    "You got paladin?!" Kris turned and stared in affronted shock at Bushra, then swiveled back to shoot an accusing glare my direction. "She''s a paladin?"

    "Wha-at?" Bushra recoiled from Kris'' outburst, confusion and concern washing across her features.

    "Yeah, Bushra''s class is paladin," I replied as I handed back the container of cream. "Seems like your straightforward champion-of-justice type of build." I grinned in mixed apology and humor at my friend''s obvious envy.

    "Do you study martial arts? Have a background in law enforcement or something?" Her eyes probed Bushra as she leaned toward her on the couch and interrogated Bushra rapid-fire.

    "Uh, no, not really." Bushra was pressing her back into the arm of the sofa, pulling her legs up defensively to put some space between them. She glanced around as if looking for escape. "I took a class in Aikido once when I was young, but it conflicted with soccer practice so I dropped it."

    Kris'' shoulders slumped. "A pharmacist?" She repeated weakly, her lips pursed in a pout. "How come?"

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    I looked back at the screen, unsure how to console my friend. "Should I select the class? That may give you more skills to choose from," I offered. Kris currently had few of what I now thought of as ''base skills''. The same greyed out magic skills I''d seen before were there, but none of the combat or stealth skills Bushra or I had access to.

    Kris was silent for another moment, then nodded. I accepted the class. Immediately, the following additional skills appeared for selection:

    Catalyst''s Crucible

    Metamorphic Adaptation

    Empyrean Endurance

    This still seemed like a smaller list than Bushra or I''d had. I quickly wrote them down in the doc, and turned to Kris.

    "There''s a smaller list of class-specific skills than I expected." Kris'' mouth drew down in a thin line as she looked at the list. I tried to mollify her. "As I gained levels and chose skills, some different options became available. It''s possible after you choose a skill, another, more advanced or related skill might appear." I told her about Aura of Inspiration and Improved Adept of Ages. "We might want to check again after you make each choice."

    "Skill trees, huh?" Kris bit her lip.

    I shrugged. "Or prerequisites. Not sure." I wanted to assuage her disappointment, feeling somewhat at fault.

    In the end, Kris decided on Catalyst''s Crucible first.

    "Holy shit!" Kris yelled, her wine nearly sloshing out of her glass. A glowing menu of some kind appeared in front of her, like my Status window, but smaller. Kris could obviously see it, too. This was the first time a person other than me could see one of the Communion menus. I set down my glass and leaned over the couch trying to see the contents of the screen for myself, dislodging Taiga in the process.

    "What is it, what''s wrong?" Bushra asked, alarmed. Apparently she couldn''t see the screen.

    "It''s a¡­ menu?" Kris was staring wide-eyed at the floating display in front of her. She looked slowly over at me, and I nodded back in confirmation. "I can''t believe it," she whispered.

    "What?" I responded. "still not convinced."

    "It''s one thing to see things other people do," she began slowly, reaching out ineffectually to touch the screen, before withdrawing her hand. "It''s another thing to actually experience it yourself." Kris closed her mouth and her gaze sharpened on the screen. The menu began to scroll down and different items were highlighted as she focused on them. "These are recipes," she muttered. "They have a ingredients and amounts, with directions for how to prepare and combine them." I watched as she scanned through a few of them. "What''s this up here?" She pointed.

    I looked where her finger was. In the top right corner of each recipe were two numbers. "This looks like a cost associated with making the recipe, followed by some kind of cost for actually using it?" At my urging, she opened a few others for comparison. "It looks like the recipes use Focus mostly to make, but have either a Health or Focus cost when using them." I saw Kris'' blank look, and quickly pointed her to the Health and Focus attributes in her Status doc, with an explanation about how they related to Body and Mind.

    "Hey, if you''re both going to keep staring at nothing, I''m going to finish the wine." Bushra interjected petulantly, pouring herself another glass. I suspected she was miffed to be the only one left out.

    "Sorry, Bushra," I said, returning to my chair. I looked back at Kris'' Status screen. "I don''t see that any new skills were added. Maybe you need to add some attribute points to unlock more?"

    Kris reluctantly, closed the menu, then opened it again to be sure, and finally closed it once more before looking back at her laptop.

    "Hmm," she pondered, "since the skill uses Focus and Health, I should add Body and Mind, right?"

    "Right. How about adding points 5 at a time? Then we can learn any thresholds when new skills are added."

    Kris nodded, and I alternated adding 5 points to Body and Mind equally. But unfortunately, even after adding 15 points to each, no additional skills presented themselves.

    I could see Kris was getting frustrated, and I quickly suggested she try adding another skill from the two remaining in her list. She asked me to chose Metamorphic Adaptation, and we were both happy to learn it unlocked a range of new recipes to craft in her menu. It was unclear so far what each one did, but Kris seemed excited to try them out.

    Even more exciting was seeing two new skills had appeared in her Status: Esoteric Tolerance and Preserving Distillation. I told Kris, and her smile grew. I was a little frustrated that we''d used up her attribute points first, and so missed the opportunity to confirm if there was an additional prerequisite, but maybe we''d have other chances. Of the new skills, ''tolerance'' and ''preservation'' were the terms that we could differentiate, and after more thought Kris opted for the former. We parsed through her crafting menu once more, and Esoteric Tolerance seemed to add a parenthetical note to each recipe representing a 3x increase in the duration of the potions that Kris herself consumed. For instance if a potion''s effects typically lasted 5 minutes, it now lasted 15 minutes for Kris. Even better, choosing that skill unlocked three more: Aetherial Alleviation, Harmonic Resonance, and the unsettlingly named Explosions!

    I saw Kris hesitate when she saw the Explosions! skill, but after a moment she told me to pick Aetherial Alleviation for her. Then I saw her frown.

    "I don''t think it did anything," she grumbled, searching her menu. "I can''t find any¡­ oh wait." Her face fell. "There''s just a single new recipe." I saw her eyebrows lower as she read through the description. I leaned over to her again to see the text.

    From what I could tell, the result worked similarly to the Paladin''s skill Righteous Resistance, in potion form. After using the prepared mixture, the affected person could simply choose one effect to remove at a cost of 5 Focus. If you used it ahead of time, it lasted for an hour, during which you could chose not to be affected by a single status ailment of your choice, and then the effect ended.

    All in all, the class seemed to be light on skills. But the versatility of the recipes she could create, combined with the fact that she could distribute them to others, was potentially insane.

    "I dunno, Kris, with a bit of preparation, this class could be broken." I shook my head in awe.

    A weird smile appeared on Kris'' face as she scrolled through the screen, looking through the different recipes. "Heh heh heh heh," she cackled, and I glanced over at Bushra in concern. Bushra was looking back at me with the same expression.

    <blockquote>

    Name: Kris Dougherty

    Race: Human

    Class: Corporate Controller, Alchemist

    Level: 4

    Condition: Normal

    Disposition: Loyal

    Core Attributes

    Body: 60

    Spirit: 35

    Mind: 80

    Luck: 25

    Derived Attributes

    Health: 60

    Magic: 0 [max 35]

    Focus: 80

    Charm: 47

    Intuition: 70

    Will: 57

    Fate: ???

    Skills

    Divine Translation (Party), Inventory (Party), Catalyst''s Crucible, Metamorphic Adaptation, Esoteric Tolerance, Aetherial Alleviation

    </blockquote>

 Chapter 36: Levels of Exhaustion

    Bushra made to leave shortly after we finished eating, beginning her trek back to the south bay, and home where her parents waited.

    "I''ll be fine," she waved brightly, but her smile was thin and tenuous. I waved back hesitantly. Bushra''s family was her business, but a part of me was hoping she''d stay over again. Keep close where I could protect her. Which was stupid, since if anything she was the one always helping me.

    "I''ll walk you to your car," Kris offered, shrugging on her coat. Despite the literally liters of empty wine bottles on the table among the empty pizza boxes, both of them were completely sober. I''d surreptitiously checked their status to be sure, but both of their conditions were Normal. I was feeling a bit warm myself, but I''d seen Swift Regeneration kick in a bit ago, and the floaty feeling was rapidly fading. I had mixed feelings about that.

    "I''ll text you when I get home," Kris smiled from the doorway. Then the door shut. I stood staring at the worn wood in silence, listening to their retreating footsteps, before I reached out and turned the deadbolt with an audible click.

    ? ? ?

    For the first time in what felt like ages, I woke up in my own bed, alone in the house.

    It was Thursday morning. One week ago today I''d woken up just like this. I''d showered, dressed, and went to work. Like nearly every other day before that. One week.

    I threw the covers back and walked blearily into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. While I was waiting for the water to boil, I looked around the room. Aside from the debris of last night''s meal, everything was in order and in place. Normal. The sun was only starting to make itself known, the buildings outside my window black shapes against the brightening sky. Outlines of orange tipped a few clouds that remained, a preview of the sunrise to come. The coffee machine beeped and I dropped in the pod and hit the button.

    A sudden noise from the front room disrupted my daze. I started toward the room in a hurry, and stopped still at the threshold.

    A furry black and orange blur darted out the other doorway to the hall. At the scene of the crime lay an upended pizza box, a few pepperoni and crumbs of crust strewn across the floor. Little claws skittered on the wooden floor as she made her escape.

    "Taiga!" I yelled in exasperation accompanied by a strange feeling of disappointment. I went and knelt down to collect the remnants of pizza back into the box. Then I picked up both boxes and carried them over to the compost bin in the kitchen, dumping the larger bits inside the bin before setting the large boxes on their side next to it. Then I recovered the empty wine bottles and set them by the recycling. Finally, I took a roll of paper towels and a spray cleaner to wipe up the rest of the greasy crumbs from the floor and table. By this time, Taiga had slunk back nonchalantly to the hallway entrance and was washing her face with her paws. Did something happen? Her body language proclaimed. She wouldn''t know. She was somewhere else. Doing something perfectly fine.

    I sat on the floor and looked around at the empty room. It was the same as always. It was the same. So why was I on edge? I shook my head at the tangle of feelings in my chest, and stood to collect my coffee.

    There was one thing truly different, I thought as I doctored my coffee before taking a cautious sip. I didn''t have anywhere to be, or anyone expecting me. I''d had relaxing, do-nothing days before, by plan or by accident. But this was different. This floating, untethered feeling was new. I hadn''t had time in the last week to really let it sink in. Now it seemed all I had was time in front of me, and it was daunting.

    Unwilling to sit still and be swallowed up by the silence, I went about my normal morning routine. I paused after taking a shower and considered my wardrobe. Eventually I shrugged and pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and a white t-shirt, followed by a bulky, burgundy wool sweater. Then I went out to the front room and sat on the couch next to the cushion Taiga had claimed, and pulled my computer to my lap. There was a mountain of things to get done, and this was a workday. I had just launched a browser and opened a document to get started, when the doorbell rang.

    ? ? ?

    "Ms. Carrigan, hello once again." The same navy blue bomber jacket and tie-less light-blue button-down appeared once more, adorning the form of Detective Flores. The voice was a friendly match for the warm smile, but the eyes were narrowed and inquisitive.

    "Detective Flores. To what do I owe this pleasure?" After checking both Location and the peephole on the door, I''d been sorely tempted to ignore them and go back to work. But then I figured this was probably as convenient a moment as I was going to get. I might as well get it over with.

    His eyebrows went up slightly. "I''m pleased you remembered me. May I come in?" he gestured with one arm still in his pocket toward the interior of my home.

    I took a breath in through my nose, and let it out slowly, watching him the whole time. "What is this about?" I turned on Augur''s Insight, and immediately felt the sharp probing pressure from him, as well as a different kind of curiosity mixed in.

    "Simply following up on recent events. I spoke with a mutual friend at the San Leandro Police Department yesterday. It seems you were at the scene of a second suspicious death the other day. Along with your friend." He spoke softly and evenly, but I could sense his interrogative regard like a buffeting against me. It didn''t feel like he would go away if I just asked. And, truthfully, I could use the distraction.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "Sure, why don''t you come in," I said, stepping back and holding open the door wide. I felt a touch of caution and confusion at my sudden willingness as he stepped gingerly inside. "Please excuse the mess. I''ve been pretty busy being hospitalized and kidnapped recently. I haven''t had time to clean."

    As he was busy looking around the hall, I walked past him to the front room. "Do you want anything to drink, a cup of coffee, or tea perhaps?" I asked, turning around at the kitchen entrance.

    "Coffee would be appreciated, thanks," he smiled back, eyes still wandering and taking in the room.

    I tried to leave him there, but he followed me into the kitchen. Shrugging internally, I busied myself making another cup of coffee.

    "Had some kind of party last night?" He asked, nodding to the pizza boxes and empty bottles of wine.

    I looked over and regarded him tiredly. "Why are you here, Detective Flores? Are you here to tell me how finding the body of one of the men responsible for framing me, and then being kidnapped and escaping his accomplice are against the law now?" I pushed the finished cup of coffee at him, and watched him fumble removing his hands from his jacket pockets to accept it. Then I walked back to the front room, not caring whether he followed me or not, and sat down again on the couch. Taiga had, unusually for her, remained seated this whole time, front legs tucked under, and eyes slitted. Her back was toward me, and her ears flicked toward the kitchen doorway as Detective Flores followed me back.

    "I can''t figure you out, Ms. Carrigan," He stood, looking down at me holding his mug with a half smile, but I sensed the unexpected truth from him. Confusion and curiosity were roiling off him like steam. "I can''t tell whether you''re a magnet for misfortune, or you''re the luckiest lady on Earth."

    "That makes two of us," I replied.

    "Bruce Paap likely weighed as much as you and Ms. Patel put together," He sat down on the edge of the lounge seat and took a sip from his hot mug, before setting it on the coffee table. "And Mr. van den Berg had a gun. Per your statement, you were both incapacitated and bound." He leaned forward, hands grasped between his knees. "How did you possibly get out of that situation?"

    "If you read our statements, you know how," I replied, giving Taiga a scritch between the ears. She closed her eyes in enjoyment, but her ears were alert.

    "I want to hear it from you," he pressed, his smile unwavering.

    "Magic," I smiled back darkly, rubbing Taiga''s cheek. She finally closed her eyes all the way, and leaned into my hand.

    His smile disappeared, replaced by a thoughtful expression. He leaned back in the chair, hands still clasped in front of him. The sense of frustration and confusion both rose, but a wariness and consideration were now emanating off of him as well.

    "According to Mr. van den Berg, he was tricked to coming to that warehouse by Mr. Paap and Ms. Patel. That they fought over something, and he tried to defend himself, only to get walloped by you from behind." He chuckled briefly. "He was very insistent that he was taken unawares, and things would have been different if he''d heard you coming. He was adamant that the officer taking his statement get that right." His grin was wry and genuine.

    "Thorsten''s a misogynistic ass," I agreed.

    "The circumstances tend not to favor Mr. van den Berg''s version of events, as well as other evidence that was secured both at the scene and at his home." I felt a burst of revulsion and rage come from Detective Flores at that point, though outwardly he appeared calm. "That piece of ¡­ work is going away for a long time," his voice hardened at the end, his eyes narrowing at some other vision.

    "However," he continued, bringing his full attention back to me. "Your story has its own issues. Your friend was treated at the scene for abrasions and marks consistent with being abducted and in a fight. You, though," he punctuated his words with a nod in my direction, "were entirely unharmed. Not a mark on you. Not so much as a papercut. Why so gentle with you?" He smiled wide, showing off his white teeth.

    "I don''t consider what they did ''gentle''." I said frostily. He waited, and I added "I was able to free myself. The ties must not have been pulled tight."

    "That''s all?" he pressed, his lips now pursed in vexation.

    "What else do you want to hear?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, "I was ''lucky''. You said it yourself."

    Another lengthy silence descended. His annoyance and confusion were warring within him. I wondered how much longer this was going to last. I thought about turning off Augur''s Insight, since it wasn''t really giving me a whole lot more than I could see from Detective Flores'' face. Other than that underlying thread of uncertainty and confusion, he wasn''t really hiding much. It was obvious he wasn''t getting what he wanted from me.

    "We also found missing evidence from the home of Mr. Hu," he continued, "which places our unfortunate Mr. Paap at the scene of Mr. Hu''s death." He regarded me closely at this point, his attention fully on me as if he would peel away my skull to read the thoughts in my head. "Did you know Mr. Paap was there, Ms. Carrigan?"

    "I didn''t know it was him. But we did hear someone moving around, I told the police at the time," I paused, weighing the risks. "I did see a man''s glove on the ground while we were there, but felt it was better to leave it alone given the circumstances." I looked down at my hands. "It wasn''t until Bruce abducted us both that I realized it could have been him. He could have wiped Jon''s video footage from Jon''s phone, using Jon''s face to unlock it." I looked up at Detective Flores again. "But it doesn''t make any sense. You said Jon definitely killed himself. But Bruce and Thorsten talked about ''taking care of Jon''. Does that mean he was murdered after all?"

    Detective Flores frowned, and I could sense the mild irritation at this line of questioning. "If Mr. Hu was murdered, it was done in a way that left no traces," He paused, and I could feel him weighing how much truth to reveal. "No, we think Mr. Paap discovered Mr. Hu in that state, and took the opportunity to rifle through his office, maybe for something that would incriminate him in their other dealings," He sighed performatively, then added "If anything we might be able to show callous indifference if Mr. Hu could be proven to still be alive at the same time Mr. Paap was there. But that''s somewhat moot now, thanks to you. And Ms. Patel of course." He leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and cradled his face in his palm.

    We sat there again in awkward quiet. I could tell he was trying to use the silence to get me to volunteer something more, but I simply sipped my coffee and waited. After a few more uncomfortable moments, Detective Flores'' face gradually fell to a frown.

    "You are a cold woman, Ms. Carrigan. I can''t figure you at all." I felt nothing but the absolute truth from him in that statement.

    I responded with a wrinkled smile. "Maybe there''s nothing to know." I continued petting Taiga and weathered his stare.

 Chapter 37: Guild Chat

    After a few more rounds of unproductive questions and retellings, Detective Flores finally left. I closed the door on his insincere smile and turned back down the hall toward the kitchen. I needed another coffee after all of that. Actually, I could go with something a bit more alcoholic than that, but I wasn''t ready to start drinking in the morning all alone. Not yet, anyway.

    As tiring as Detective Flores was, his visit showed me that Bushra and I weren''t out of the woods yet. I wondered if he was going to start following us. Or maybe he''d been following us already? I stopped in the hall and opened Location. I didn''t see blue dots hanging around the front of the building. I did see some in the building itself. Mrs. Klein was in her home, at a guess that was her in her kitchen. I felt briefly guilty about spying on the older woman. There was another blue dot in her home, in the living room. A guest? A flush of anger filled my head, as the certainty of Detective Flores smug face sitting on Mrs. Klein''s sofa formed in my mind. Of course he would.

    I tamped down on my anger, knowing there was nothing I could do about it short of storming down there and bodily hauling the man out. As tempting as that was, it wouldn''t do any good, would probably get me arrested, and would scare poor Mrs. Klein half to death. I closed Location resolutely and tried to get the image out of my mind. Coffee. That''s what I needed.

    I tried to get back to work, but had problems concentrating. I couldn''t help checking Location every few minutes, and saw after a half hour that the second blue dot had gone. I''d have to stop by Mrs. Klein''s place with an apology gift at some point.

    Over the next few hours, in fits and starts, I was able to put together a quick framework of a strategy plan for our company, and a rudimentary forecast working backwards from a (hopefully) not-to-unreasonable number. There were a lot of costs I hadn''t yet figured out, but I left those as placeholders for now. I''d been writing these kinds of plans at the product level for a while now, and well, there was only one product for our company at the moment. Kris would blow it all up, I was sure, budgeting was more her thing than mine. Oddly, though, that didn''t bother me like it had when I was doing product planning. If anything, I wanted her to tear it down and make it better.

    The initial drafts were as far as I got. My mind kept drifting to other things when I tried to add in the details. Mrs. Klein clutching the ring from her husband. The light from the video game illuminating Iter''s face from the sofa. Detective Flores sitting in mock idleness in my chair. Bushra''s forced smile at the door. Thorsten''s sickly leer. Bruce''s husk of a body lying on the van. The shiny gold of his garnet ring, stained with his blood.

    I was about to push my laptop away and close the lid, when I saw a there was an email notification from Bushra. It was an invite to a chat room. The corners of my mouth turned up, and I clicked the link to join.

    [BushraP] Hey Mai! Welcome to our company''s chatroom!??

    [KD] Yo! About time! ????????

    That''s a lot of emojis, Kris.

    [Mairead] Hey there.

    [BushraP] i was tellin kris how it went with my parents this morn. mom''s stepped out 2 get groceries, but i''m not allowed 2 leave the ????

    [KD] Grounded. ??

    [BushraP] lol, no. she''s just scared so i''m humorin her. I put this chat together while i was waitin.

    I scrolled up to read Bushra''s previous posts. It seems she told her parents an edited version of almost being kidnapped, and they were (understandably) freaked out. She also told them about being laid off from work (but not the accusations), and the new company. She''d spent most of the morning with her mom, talking about things.

    [BushraP] i skirted most of the deets, but it''s all good now!

    [Mairead] Glad you''re ok.

    [KD] <3

    A knot that had been tightening around my heart began to unwind, and I smiled at the screen. I moved to another window to grab a link, and then went back to the chat.

    [Mairead] I put together a draft strategy doc [link]. Lots of holes, but a starting point.

    [KD] ??????

    [BushraP] woo hoo! It''s startin 2 feel real!

    [Mairead] lots of work to do yet.

    [KD] yup. good start tho.

    [BushraP] but now we hav 2 tackle the big one.

    [Mairead] ??

    [KD] ??

    [BushraP] our name! i hate saying ''the company'' all the time.

    [BushraP] we need a name!!!

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    [Mairead] ...

    [KD] ??

    [Mairead] Suggestions?

    Kris posted a link to a Boromir meme, "One does not simply NAME A COMPANY"

    I sighed. Kris was one of those people in chat. She''d always been brief in our texts. This kind of group chat with Kris was a new experience. I put a hand to my mouth and pursed my lips to suppress a giggle.

    [BushraP] i''m sure u''ll think of something!

    Kris posted the Success Kid meme with the text "U Got This!"

    Wait, they''re throwing this on me?

    [BushraP] anyway, mom''ll b home soon. I''m stickin around here 2day 2 keep them happy, but when should we meet up again?

    [KD] Tomorrow afternoon? I can get off early.

    Woah. Two whole sentences from Kris.

    [Mairead] Sure. Where to meet? Back here?

    [KD] My house is in the middle: [map link]

    [BushraP] SF works 4 me! tell me when 2 b there!

    Before dropping off, I told them briefly about my encounter with Detective Flores.

    [KD] Mai, be careful. ??

    [BushraP] still? ugh! ??

    [Mairead] I will. You too.

    ? ? ?

    I closed the laptop lid and leaned back against the couch. My back ached. This was definitely not an ergonomically correct office environment. I stood up from the couch to stretch, and Taiga jumped up to appropriate the cushion I''d departed to take charge of the residual warmth. I smiled crookedly down at her, then turned and made my way to the kitchen for a coffee refill.

    "Hello again, Our Hero!"

    I''m glad my coffee was empty, as I''d be wearing it after jumping 6 inches in the air.

    "The fuck!" I yelled, putting a free hand on my heart while I held my cup out in front of me as if in warding. "Iter! Don''t scare me like that!"

    The god himself was in my kitchen in full divine radiance, robes and all. He beamed at me, arms wide as if he were blessing the room. Which, who knows, maybe he was in some way.

    "We have returned to accompany you once more," he ignored my outburst, grinning like a grandparent visiting their favorite grandchild. "We have much to relay, but first We must proclaim Our joy in appearing before you again."

    "Yeah, yeah, it''s great to see you, too" I muttered distracted. "But before all that, d''you mind telling me who that is?" I nodded to the figure standing behind Iter, looking around the kitchen in shrewd interest. They were shorter than Iter, roughly my height, but almost twice as broad. It looked like what they lacked in size they tried to make up for in hair. There was a huge mountain of wild, dark blonde hair rising about their head and incorporating a lengthy, thick beard like a mane. Poking out from the hair was an abnormally long, pointed nose, upon which balanced a pair of intricate silver pince-nez that looked as though they would fall off at the slightest turn or tilt of their head. Tiny ice blue eyes peered out from within that thicket and darted about the room, taking everything in. I assumed there were a mouth and ears in there, but I couldn''t swear to it in a court of law. They wore loose woolen clothing and a heavy wool cloak, all in various tones of moss, earth, and mud.

    "Of course!" Iter replied, unphased. "It is Our pleasure to introduce Our new companion¡­ " Iter began, turning to the figure behind him, but was interrupted.

    "Hero. Well met," a low grumble escaped from within the tangled mass, and they reached forward past Iter with a broad hand twice the size of mine that appeared to be covered in strips of linen and leather. I reached out my hand in turn, and it was enveloped entirely within their firm grip. They moved forward in a breath and their eyes were before mine, dancing around my face as if taking in each feature and line. The smell of soil, smoke, sweat, and steel suffused my nostrils, and I would have taken a step back if that vise-like grip hadn''t held me in place. "Siarr¨¢lfr, I am called." Then immediately I was released, nearly causing me to stumble backwards.

    "Siarr¨¢lfr is an elf," Iter added, deflated at being upstaged. But he brightened again almost immediately. "They are from another world, here to assist Our Hero in her quest!"

    "A what?" My brain was still trying to process the name, feeling its way around the unfamiliar syllables. But it immediately latched onto Iter''s response as a priority consideration.

    "Elf," came the deep throated rumble, "From Vanaheim, I am come to aid you." At this statement, Siarr¨¢lfr bowed deep, but they angled their head so that their eyes never left mine. When they had straightened, their eyes immediately began their cataloguing of the kitchen once more.

    "Our investigation of the ring you found confirmed it''s Magical nature," Iter stepped forward once more to take the reins of the conversation. "However, as an item imbued with Magic, it was beyond Our ability to ascertain more. So We chose to obtain the aid of an expert in Magic devices." Iter looked at his companion with an expression close to pride. "We have obtained the very best."

    "A simple enchantment," Siarr¨¢lfr growled, finally abandoning their survey of the room. "An elf-child could craft as much. But the ring itself, an amalgamation of perfection and flaws. Neither man nor elf of my world could have made it." Their eyes peered back at me, and a hand disappeared inside a pouch at their waist. It returned with the gold band and garnet gemstone held like a tiny toy in their massive hand. "I am assured by the gods it was manufactured in this place." Their gaze swept the room once more. "Evidence of this, I see in every corner." They held out the ring to me.

    I paused before accepting the ring from their hand, and a throaty chuckle emerged from within their beard. "The enchantment is undone. The gods willed it so." I accepted the ring and looked at it curiously. It looked the same. I Appraised it:

    Gold band with a set garnet

    No longer a magic item, then. Also, confirmed that the stone was garnet and not ruby.

    "Perfection and flaws?" I asked, the first thing I could think of, overwhelmed with questions.

    "The edges of the band are cut so uniform it would seem as if it were cast in a die. However, the metal is too dense for such a simple process. In addition, the alloy is pure and uniform, if low grade. But the gem is poorly set, off-center and ill-fitted," Though hidden by hair, I could sense the affronted frown within. "What being could have such mastery yet care so little?" The self-proclaimed elf became agitated, waving about the room. "I see much the same in the designs of the devices here. And many materials unknown to me." I couldn''t see their mouth, but the beard seemed to descend at the sides in a deep scowl.

    "You mean the appliances?" I asked, taken aback. "I''m guessing many of these were cut and assembled by machines, with maybe some additional cheap labor to finish it off."

    "Machines, you say?" Two giant fuzzy eyebrows fell inward toward the bridge of their nose. "Do constructs operate your smithies in this place?"

    I looked over at Iter, who was looking back at me in expectation. "Okay," I sighed, "This is going to take a bit to explain if I have to go all the way back to the Industrial Revolution. But," I rounded on Iter, "Before that, I want to know what you mean by ''here to assist''." I looked at him pointedly. "And they better have somewhere else they can stay the night."

    Iter''s smile faltered a bit, but at that moment my phone started buzzing. I pulled it from my pocket to check the number. Epic Encounters?

    "Hi, Mai here," I answered, motioning at Iter and his buddy to be quiet, and then raising the phone to my ear.

    "Mai! It is Laci," his lilting voice came over the speaker, a little subdued.

    "Hey Laci, what''s up?" I looked up and saw Siarr¨¢lfr moving toward my coffee maker with purpose, and waved to Iter to stop them.

    "Are you busy tonight? I was hoping you and I could chat." His voice lacked its usual good humor.

    "Sure? What''s this about?" I frowned, nervously watching Iter attempt to dissuade the elf from touching the appliance. The large being pulled it''s arms behind its back in a show of assent, but then leaned in to absorb every detail and angle of my coffee machine with eyes so brilliant blue they were almost white.

    "It is about this new company of yours," There was a pause at the other end of the line. Just as I was about to chime in to ask for more details, Laci continued. "I hope you''ll forgive an old man for prying. I spoke to a few old friends about this program. I am afraid you are having a problem."

 Chapter 38: A Good Neighbor

    I ended the call with Laci, arranging to meet with him later this evening. His words were fairly ominous, but the situation at home needed immediate attention.

    "Iter, why are you back?" I rounded on the god, who was currently huddled with the elf near my refrigerator. The wild-haired elf had opened the doors for both the freezer and refrigerated sections and was sniffing the interior. Their long, beak-like nose was twitching like a rabbit''s, and they rumbled something to themself that I couldn''t hear.

    "We said We would return, did We not?" Iter straightened and turned in my direction. Slight wrinkles formed in his perfect brow, before smoothing once more. "And here We are."

    "What happened?" I pursued, not mollified. I strolled over to the refrigerator and pushed both doors shut, causing the elf to pull backward in alarm. I grabbed Iter by the arm and pulled him back toward the entrance to the front room. "Where did they," I nodded to Siarr¨¢lfr, "come from?"

    "Are You well?" Iter peered closely at me. "The elf mentioned their origin within Vanaheim." A look of concern flashed across his features. "Is this a secondary effect from your battle, some form of mental attack?"

    "No! What? No." I shook my head. "I mean, they''re from another world, right? What''re they doing here?"

    Iter ceased his examination and met my gaze. "With the advent of a Magic item in this world, Our fellow Gods and Ourselves deemed further investigation was required," the god relayed with a look of seriousness. "We are attempting to track how the item entered your world. Gods are not the only entities with the capability to traverse between." The god paused meaningfully, but then a smile I assume was meant to be reassuring formed on his face. "The number of such individuals, though, is small. We are assured that the culprit will be apprehended in all haste."

    "In the meantime," he continued, "We saw fit to arm Our Hero with knowledge to protect yourself. In this case, applied knowledge." He swept one arm in the elf''s direction, who was busy now pawing through my utensil drawer. I saw them pull a pizza cutter from the collection, and turn it curiously with the pointed nail of a long, gnarled finger. The plastic and silicone instrument spun in silence.

    "Intriguing. This material is lightweight, yet it holds an edge sharp enough for routine cutting. It is mineral, however, not some manner of tree?" Their sharp blue eyes looked up at me for confirmation.

    "It''s plastic." I replied. "Well, technically nylon and the handle is covered in silicone. I think?" I wrinkled my brow, momentarily distracted. "It''s a petroleum product. I guess that means it''s both mineral and biological?" I frowned.

    The mass of hair around the elf''s forehead pulled downward. "Unfamiliar terms. A processed material?" Their gaze turned to the tool, then back to the drawer.

    "I don''t actually know the details," I swiveled back to Iter, "They aren''t staying here." I needed to set this straight right away.

    "We would prefer¡­ " Iter began to argue, when the elf closed the drawer with a slam, and turned fully in our direction.

    "Indeed." They looked around the room with a judgmental eye. "Entirely unacceptable working space." With swift strides, the elf swept past Iter and me toward the front room and stopped in the middle. "[Primal Earth and Water] nodes, [geothermal] taps, proximate [ley line] junctions. These are necessary." The words were unfamiliar, but I sensed Translation working to provide appropriate alternates, accompanied by strange visions of underground environments juxtaposed with elemental forces. I didn''t follow it well.

    "Necessary for what?" I asked, concerned.

    "Work," the elf replied succinctly, not turning. They were glaring down at the glass and metal coffee table as if dissecting it with his gaze.

    "What kind of work?" I pressed.

    Siarr¨¢lfr turned to look at me directly, surprise in their eyes. "The only work that lasts. A Smith, I am. I will create what you need, or mend what is broken." And for the first time I felt a fierce grin rising from beneath the dense brush of their beard. They held up an arm and smacked their bicep with a firm slap. "Or unmake things that need breaking."

    A new Party Member request was received.

    Accept? Y/N

    ? ? ?

    If anyone had told me I''d spend this afternoon going house-hunting for an elf, I''d have¡­ on second thought, that sounds about right.

    "So what are we looking for?" I asked from the driver''s seat. Iter was in the passenger seat, with Siarr¨¢lfr in the rear. The sky had turned to overcast, and the interior of the car was chilly. Our breath was starting to fog the windows as I took out my phone and opened a map app. I zoomed out so that San Francisco was on the left, and Oakland and Alameda on the right, with the SF Bay in the middle, linked by the Bay Bridge.

    "Somewhere off this bar of sand and silt," Siarr¨¢lfr''s voice rumbled into my ear as they leaned forward between the seats to peer at my phone. "I require rock and stone beneath my feet. We are fortunate, however, that this land is blessed with [seismic activity] and power. That will be of aid in fueling my forge."

    I''d gone very quickly from relief at hearing my home was not to gain a new resident, to horror at the thought of covering a second rent in the inflated housing market of the SF Bay Area. But it quickly became clear that Siarr¨¢lfr was not looking for a traditional home. "Something without structures. An unspoilt land would be preferred."

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "You mean you live outdoors? In the open?" I had looked at their unkempt appearance and briefly pictured them within a homeless encampment. It worked a little too well.

    "No. Under it," they replied gruffly.

    It seemed that the workshop they were looking for would be formed underground. I wasn''t sure what they meant, but Siarr¨¢lfr assured me they were capable of creating the space they needed themselves, so long as they found an acceptable location. Picturing a major excavation, I almost put a halt to the whole thing, until they assured me the process would not be visible from the surface. Figuring I could keep an eye on them both and step in if things started to get out of hand, I acquiesced. Plus, I was wildly curious about how they would do it. Hence the car trip.

    "Hmm, that means either east to the Oakland Hills, or maybe one of the hills in SF." I pondered the map with terrain mode on, Iter and Siarr¨¢lfr peering over my shoulder.

    "Proximity to large bodies of water or underground aquifers would be ideal." The elf''s nose quivered slightly as they leaned toward the screen, nearly blocking my view. The scent of metal and smoke that emanated from them stung my nose slightly. I hoped it wouldn''t linger in my car.

    "How about Bernal Heights? That''s close to Kris'' house. It might be good to be near one of us just in case." I set the location for Bernal Heights Park in the app, even though I knew the way. "Now buckle up, both of you. The cops won''t accept immortality or supernatural origins as excuses, and I don''t want a fat ticket."

    Iter, who had traveled with me by car before, assisted Siarr¨¢lfr with the seat belt mechanism. After a moment of elfish surprise when I turned on the car, and a deluge of questions about internal combustion I couldn''t answer, we began our trip.

    Siarr¨¢lfr took to this form of travel quickly, less interested in the exterior scenery passing by than the operation of the vehicle itself. Once they discovered their host was woefully short of knowledge about the inner workings of the automobile, they sat back in their seat with their arms crossed. I glanced in the rearview mirror.

    "You''re not like the elves I''m used to," I broke the silence.

    "Elves inhabit this world as well?" Bushy eyebrows rose in response.

    ''Well, no," I replied. "I was referring to stories and other works of fiction. They''re taller, for one thing, and have pointed ears." I almost added, ''and less hair,'' but thought that might be bordering on rude. "Though in some stories, they''re small," I added, thinking of fairy tales like the elves and the shoemaker, or Santa''s workshop.

    "Pointed ears I have," they replied, pulling back their mane to reveal the tips of a fleshy point buried beneath. "However, a populous people we are not, nor are we uniform." Siarr¨¢lfr shrugged.

    I turned onto 880 and headed north towards the Bay Bridge. Traffic was starting to pick up, but we still managed to move along at a good clip. We passed by downtown Oakland and its smattering of smallish towers and high-rise buildings. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the elf glowering at them, an expression I was rapidly recognizing as professional scrutiny.

    "Do you do this often?" I asked. "Travel between worlds, I mean?" Apart from the modern architecture and machinery, the elf seemed remarkably unfazed by the circumstances. Even the presence of Iter seemed to be of minor note to them.

    "I have not done so," they rumbled, their beard bristles twitching. "But I have provided my expertise to the gods and their heroes in ages past." Siarr¨¢lfr sat in silence after that, peering out the window as the waters of the bay came into sight. The quiet of the car was broken only by the repetitive clacking of tires against the sections of pavement on the freeway. I grasped about for a new topic to change the subject, when their voice suddenly burst forth again, like the shifting of tectonic plates. "My sibling was such a one, and departed upon the urging of a god to save another world. A shield I crafted to keep them safe." I saw them turn to face me in the mirror, their eyes alit with an intense fire that was sheltered but never faded. "They passed from knowing more than an age ago."

    "How old are you?" I murmured, unable to keep the question from spilling out under the extremity of that burning emotion.

    They held my gaze for a moment, then lowered their eyes once more. "I have never counted." They turned away as if disinterested. "What need we to track something so insignificant as years. That you younger folk waste what little time you have with this accounting, we find a morbid endeavor." A soft hrumph sounded within their whiskers. "We were created at the dawn of time. An elf will mark the ending when the last star has flamed out." At which they settled once more into silence.

    ? ? ?

    "Here we are," I announced, pulling along the side of the road at a spot near the park entrance. Luck had to be working overtime today.

    The sun had just dipped below the overcast to scorch the undersides of the clouds with oranges and reds on its journey below the horizon. I unbuckled and exited the car, one of a few clustered near the pedestrian roadway that continued up the hill. A couple of bicyclists sailed past us, and I saw an older couple hiking their way further along.

    Though not one of the recognized "Seven Hills" of San Francisco, Bernal Heights still offered a stunning panoramic view of the city and surrounding areas. The wind was quite brisk, and my coat fluttered around me. I stuck my hands deep in my pockets, as much as to keep my coat from blowing around as to keep them warm. While not visible, the air was heavy with a fine mist and the scent of water. I could feel the tip of my nose and cheeks rapidly chilling, and I was glad I''d grabbed my knit cap before I left. I pulled it further down over my ears, and turned to the other two.

    Iter was back in his ''casual confidence'' outfit, but he''d added a cream-colored cashmere scarf and matching cap. He looked like a model fresh off a location shoot. But looking at him in this weather just made me feel a sympathetic shiver. I''ll remind him to add a jacket or something next time. Beside him, Siarr¨¢lfr looked almost feral in contrast, as the wind whipped their hair in all directions. They were looking around appraisingly, nodding slightly to themselves. Corralling them both, I led the way past the yellow metal gate, and up the path as it veered to the right alongside a metal guardrail.

    "This will do," Siarr¨¢lfr pronounced after only hundred feet or so up the road. Their chest slowly expanded as they took in a great breath, and then knelt down to place their hands against the packed earth to the left of the path. In response, the soil beneath them began to roil like a boiling pot, before rising up and covering them entirely. My mouth was open to call out in surprise, when the ground subsided once more, rocks and silt settling and rippling like the surface of pond where a rock was dropped. Siarr¨¢lfr was gone.

    "What the hell! Iter, where are they?" I swiftly looked around, spotting a few hikers chatting amicably behind us. Further ahead of us, a bicyclist was speeding down the path, their gaze fixed on the road before them. No one was making a fuss, or seemed like they''d just seen the ground reach up and swallow a person whole.

    "Within the earth, it would seem," he replied, entirely at ease. "Their kind is at home in the more primal elements, and it seems the spirits here are answering their call. I suspect they are preparing the interior for their habitation." Iter looked at me, an impish grin on their face. "Would you like to see?"

 Chapter 39: Fey Step

    "What, you want me to start digging?" I turned around to look at Iter, then swiveled to look at the smattering of other people visiting Bernal Heights Park this evening. I pulled the hood of my coat closer around me. I suspected that beginning to dig wouldn''t even get a second glance from most of the passerby, but I still felt embarrassed at the thought.

    "Of course not," Iter replied in a tone reserved for children, making the heat rise even higher on my cheeks. "That would take far too long. We are suggesting a newly available alternative."

    "What alternative," I replied cautiously, my curiosity finally pinning embarrassment and anger in a 3-way-no-holds-barred contest.

    "Open your Communion, if you would," Iter directed, shifting himself to stand behind me. Warily, I brought up the menu. "Now open your Location." I followed his instructions.

    "I do not see it," Iter mumbled in a puzzled tone.

    "See what?" I scanned the screen for any obvious changes. I saw the map of our location atop Bernal Hill. I saw myself and a yellow dot not too far away, while Iter''s blue dot hovered behind me. So Siarr¨¢lfr was still physically close by, somewhere within the bank to the left of the path. When I looked at buildings with multiple floors, I typically had to move the Location between levels to see the people on them. Apparently Siarr¨¢lfr wasn''t considered to be on another floor/level right now. Iter interrupted my musing by reaching over my shoulder to point at the top of the Location window.

    "There should be a new option here." Iter leaned back, and put a hand to his chin. "Is the elf in your party?" He looked at me in query.

    "Uhm, I saw the message, but¡­ " I looked to my journal, and noticed the notification was still pending.

    A new Party Member request was received.

    Accept? Y/N

    "I guess I hadn''t accepted it yet." I didn''t see any reason to delay at this point, so I selected ''Y'' and the message went away. "Okay, they''re in my party now." I moved back to Location.

    "There," Iter indicated.

    I looked at the top of the window where he was pointing. A new option was listed: "Travel"

    "Is that what I think it is?" I gasped. Without waiting for a response, I selected it.

    A menu appeared, overlaid on top of the map:

    Select destination:

    Hero''s home

    Bushra''s room

    Kris'' apartment

    Siarr¨¢lfr''s workshop

    "Oh my god¡­ " My voice trailed off as I gaped in wonder at the options in front of me.

    "Yes," Iter replied, pleased. "Though We cannot take all the credit." I could feel the air of smugness that belied his words emanating from behind me. "With the addition of the elf, the conditions have been met. You may now access faerie paths to travel to each of these locations."

    I took a single, deep breath, and selected the ''Hero''s home'' option. I felt no movement, but a light wind fluttered past my nose, leaving behind the faint scent of eucalyptus and dry moss. I blinked, and I was standing in the foyer of my apartment. It was dark and unfamiliar with the hall light off and without the automated porch light shining through the window.

    "Oh shit," I breathed, reaching over and flipping the switch. The hall was bathed in light, and I froze, still not believing my circumstances.

    "We are of mixed emotion with this ability, to be truthful. While officially tied to Our domain, it feels almost like a circumvention of Our Will," I turned back to face him without comprehension. He wore a complicated expression, but his eyes were bright and shinning. "However, with this Our Hero may now reach their party members much more efficiently," he said nodding.

    "This is incredible!" I exclaimed. "Can I do this anytime? Can I take people or things with me? Is there a limit to the range or how often I can do it?" I reached out and grabbed the god''s sleeve, and he looked over at my hand in mild alarm.

    "There are no limits to the range or frequency," he replied, his eyes never leaving my hand on his sleeve, but making no move to remove it. "You may transport anyone in your party or anything in your inventory that is currently with you at the time."

    "How are these locations decided?" I asked. In some corner of my mind, I knew I was being a bit intense, but this was amazing! I mean, the inventory tricks were interesting, and my other skills saved my life more than once. But for some reason this had a bigger impact. If felt magical.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    "It is linked to the Hero''s party members," Iter responded flatly, his face nonplussed.

    "So how do I get back to the park?" I asked, releasing his arm and opening up Location again and selecting the Travel menu. I considered using Location to check my landing point to make sure no people were around when I arrived. I''d never actually moved my visible screen far away. I wondered what the people nearby made of Iter and me suddenly disappearing.

    "You cannot," Iter replied, dashing my hopes. "At least, not through Travel." He perked up. "But normal means of transportation will suffice in that circumstance."

    "Wait, so its a one-way trip? There''s no ''return'' option?" I said, slightly deflated.

    "You may travel back and forth between designated locations as often as you like," Iter noted in a mollifying tone.

    "Sure." It was still pretty cool, I told myself. "So we can go see Siarr¨¢lfr''s workshop, then. Do you think it''s done?"

    "As the elf is beloved by the spirits, We are positive the initial structure has been completed by now."

    I paused only briefly to consider that statement, before selecting the option ''Siarr¨¢lfr''s workshop'' from the Travel menu.

    ? ? ?

    I was surrounded by darkness. As I took in a breath, it was warm, almost stifling, and I had a moment of panic and claustrophobia. I flailed out an arm, but couldn''t feel anything. I couldn''t even see my hand.

    "Iter! Are you here?" I shouted into the black space.

    "Yes, We are here," a calm voice answered from behind me and a little to my left. "Are you feeling well, Our Hero?" his voice replied with a touch of concern.

    "I can''t see anything. Did we get lost?" Was this some kind of effect on my eyesight? Or are we somehow caught between somewhere? My panic rose. I took a step and turned back to try to grab a hold of the god''s clothes, when a warm hand gripped mine.

    "At my workshop you have arrived," a new voice like two stones grinding together echoed in the space. Suddenly, a bright incandescence burst into being on my right. I had to close and shield my eyes from the abrupt glare. "Sooner than expected, or a finer welcome I''d have made." The light dimmed and split apart into glowing orbs that spread out across the ceiling of the room, traveling like fish in a pond. "Hero Mairead Carrigan. You are welcome here."

    I gradually put down the hand that was shielding my eyes, and blinked into the now softly illuminated space. It was an empty, dome-like room with a textured surface of light gray stone-like material. The floor seemed to be made of the same substance. Looking around, I noticed the dome seemed to come down from the ceiling and stop about 4 feet off the ground, where the wall then extended in a short distance to the floor. The broad figure of the elf was standing near the center facing in the opposite direction, a mere 15 feet or so away from me. The space was barren of any other feature or fixture. I noticed that I was still holding Iter''s hand, and let go as surreptitiously as possible.

    "Humans require a source of light to see, I seem to recall." I saw the nose shift from side to side from behind, and I imagined a carpenter examining their handiwork. "We are off-center from the ley lines that traverse this region. A series of underground pipes connected to the building the humans have placed at the peak of the hill necessitated this," Siarr¨¢lfr commented. "It is a minor inconvenience, however. We are amply sourced for water, heat, and air, thanks to our new friends." They waved their hand gracefully to indicate the lights, that seemed to wink in response to the movement of their arm like a wave of light.

    "You built this just now?" While empty, the room was even and broad, and I could see from here that the lines and joins were as smooth as if cut by a laser. It can''t have been more than 10 minutes since they first disappeared underground.

    "The spirits were kind enough to acquiesce to my desires." They bowed their head to the room at large.

    "Spirits?" I queried, brows wrinkling.

    "As an elf, Siarr¨¢lfr is attuned to the primordial spirits that suffuse the world," Iter answered from beside me.

    "Humans cannot see them, any more than you can see without light." Siarr¨¢lfr shook their head. "A truly blind folk, in more ways than one." Their shoulders raised and lowered in a sigh. "But perhaps that is just as well. The spirits would not tolerate your meddling were your kind to take notice of them. They already seem somewhat aggravated by your presence."

    "Uh, okay," I replied, unsure if I was being looked down on. Or at any rate, I chose to be unsure and let their comments pass in the moment. "So this is your workshop, hunh? Do you also have a sleeping area or bedroom, something like that?"

    "Sleep is not required." Siarr¨¢lfr turned and seemed to commune with a group of lights nearby, which then sped out along the ground, swirling on a spot that began to shift and reshape into a depression in the ground.

    "You don''t sleep?" I asked, eyebrows rising. The depression widened into a rectangular pan, which then rose from the ground on a column of the same substance as the floor and ceiling.

    "Nay, an elf has no need." they replied without looking my direction. They moved to oversee the development of the basin that was forming, gesturing as they spoke to add minor alterations or improvements to height and width. "An elf is immortal. Even the little death of sleep is foreign to us."

    "What about eating or drinking?" I asked, curiosity rising.

    "We can receive substance from food and drink, but can take those elsewhere as well," the nose tilted back in my direction, the work on the basin apparently done for now. "Aqua Vitae, what your kind calls Liquor, however, is greatly favored." I saw the bright blue eyes tighten from within the halo of hair that covered their features.

    "Ah, got it," I chuckled. "Any favorites?"

    Their gaze sharpened and fixed me in place. "You have varieties?" The room itself seemed to brighten as if the entire cadre of spirits focused in my direction at once.

    "Y-yeah, that''s right," I said, unnerved. "There''s lots to choose from." Feeling the pressure of a hundred pinpricks of light, I tread cautiously. "Want me to bring some with me next time?"

    "A gift of such opulence would be most appreciated." Their tone was polite, but there was an undercurrent of, well, thirst.

    "Uh, I can make a run to the store if you like," I replied shakily, as the attention tightened on me from around the room. "So, uhm, how do I get to my car from here?"

    Silence met my query, and lengthened until it touched every part of the space.

    ? ? ?

    "Hey Kris, are you off work soon? I was wondering if you could come pick me up and drive me to my car? I''m at your house."

 Chapter 40: Meeting at a Tavern

    It was raining lightly by the time I made my way to see Laci that evening. The dark was broken by the piercing headlights of cars reflecting off the water runoff in the street as commuters returned to Alameda like the tide.

    In the end, I''d opted to leave my car in Bernal Heights. Kris had been apologetic, but unable to leave the backlog of work she''d apparently been accumulating. Feeling guilty, I told her it was fine, I''d make my way home on my own and pick up my car tomorrow when we all met up.

    While she was apologizing, I used Travel to go home, which had the unfortunate side-effect of dropping the phone call. Apparently cell towers don''t like you switching that quickly across such a distance. I called Kris back immediately.

    "Sorry about that, I accidentally disconnected the call." I reached out and flicked on the hall lights so I wasn''t standing in the dark. Iter moved toward the front room as I started shuffling off my coat.

    "You almost gave me a heart attack!" Kris exclaimed. I thought it was a bit dramatic for a dropped call. "Are you safe where you are?" I guess given recent events, her concern was unfortunately warranted.

    "Yeah, I''m sorry, I''m fine. I''m actually home now, so everything''s okay" I replied, trying to allay her fears.

    "You''re home? I thought you said you were at my place?" I could imagine the confusion on her face from the tone of her voice.

    "It''s a bit complicated to explain. Hero stuff, I guess." I made my way to the front room as well. "I''ll tell you all about it tomorrow." I could tell Kris was reluctant to let it go, but she relented after extracting a few more assurances.

    When I ended the call, I looked over at Iter who was sitting expectantly on the couch.

    "I''m heading out right away to see Laci," I told him. "Do you plan to stay here, or¡­ " I trailed off. I wasn''t sure why I was offering. Talking with Laci would probably be easier alone, especially since Laci was being somewhat cagey. But my chest tightened at the thought of him disappearing again. I chalked it up to the sense of melancholy I''d felt being alone earlier today.

    But Iter smiled at my inquiry and shook his head. "We shall remain here." There was an awkward pause as I expected him to elaborate, but he remained silent. His eyes were calm and serene, and I felt the constriction in my chest relax. He would be here when I came back.

    "Well, okay, if you''re sure," I replied after a beat, then added, "No more guests, though! No more gods, elves, or other supernatural strays!"

    Iter pursed his lips to hold back a grin, and nodded solemnly. "We assure you, We have no such intention."

    I looked at him warily for a moment, then nodded once and turned back to the hallway.

    ? ? ?

    I grabbed a heavier coat on my way out, since the rain had started. It was a thigh-length, dove gray, North Face parka with a hood to keep out the weather. It was actually a bit of corporate swag from Complyze, and their logo was embroidered subtly on the left shoulder. I felt a mild annoyance at the association, but it was by far my most comfortable outdoor coat and I wore it quite frequently during my winter commute. It was a good coat, despite the provenance. I put it on. I also switched into some knee-high boots to protect my legs, and hurried to Laci''s store.

    It was a fairly light rain during my walk, but the wind had picked up. By the time I arrived at Epic Encounters at a little after 7pm, the knees of my jeans were damp where they were exposed to the rain. The electric ''open'' sign was off when I entered, but it wasn''t unusual for there to be games running after that so the door was still unlocked. Sure enough, a group of people were in various states of standing up and picking up their things around one of the tables in the back. They were all smiles and laughter of post-session reminiscences as they broke up into pairs and trios. I wasn''t familiar with any of their faces or the books and accessories they were putting away, but I could vicariously experience the feeling of comradery and excitement that followed a game.

    I looked around for Laci, and saw him at the counter by the register, listening to something Jan was explaining. Standing side-by-side, the father and son duo was heart-warming. I''d never really thought about having kids myself. Despite my age and the preponderance of acquaintances entering that stage of their lives, children always seemed like something that happened to other people. It wasn''t that I disliked kids or anything, but it just wasn''t on my radar. Seeing those two together, though, for the first time I thought it might be nice to have a daughter or son of my own. Someday. Maybe. I shook my head slightly, and approached them.

    "Hi Laci," I started, holding up a hand on greeting. "Hope it''s not too late."

    Laci turned his head and smiled his trademark wide-toothed grin. But I could see creases around his eyes of concern. "Mai! No, you are come at a perfect time. But this is no place for conversation. Jan," Laci turned back to his son. "I am to be going out. You can lock up, yes?"

    "Alright," Jan replied airily with a small smile.

    "Very good," Laci clapped an arm on his shoulder, then moved to a coat stand by the wall cabinets and pulled down an old fashioned looking trench coat and a fedora, and shrugged them on. "Tell your mama I am going to a business meeting. I will be late for dinner."

    "Uh huh. Mama will be mad if she has to carry you home, so don''t drink too much." Still sleepy-eyed, Jan smirked at his father.

    "Bah. You are sounding like her more all the time." Laci made shooing motions at him with his hands, although he was the one leaving. "I see you at home."

    With that, Laci guided me out the door and down towards Santa Clara Ave. "Have you eaten?" he asked against the background of traffic and rain.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "No,"

    "Well, we can get a bite at the Juniper together," he nodded, smiling. "Then we talk."

    The Juniper Tree hadn''t had that name for a few years now, having rebranded as the Gimlet with new ownership some time ago. But old habits die hard, I guess. The Gimlet was an analogy of the island itself, as the older residents gradually either aged and left Alameda or passed on, and a newer, younger generation moved in. The Juniper Tree had its heyday in the 60s and 70s, had faded in the 80s and 90s, then had become an eyesore by the turn of the millennium. The original owner had retired not too long ago, and it was experiencing a renaissance now under new ownership, a new name, and new clientele. But the bones of the past were still there in the polished but chipped wooden bar and old-fashioned glass shelves, and curved arches and pillars reminiscent of a cross between art deco and mission architecture. The new owners had embraced that aesthetic, and nods to that era were present in the pair of now-vintage lounge sofas alongside low, hammered metal tables toward the back, with mid century, counter height upholstered chairs lining the bar.

    Laci walked in and made his way immediately toward the back through a light crowd of early evening-goers, returning waves of greeting to the bartender and servers. "Hey Laci! here to see Kim?" one of them called out to the older gentleman, all smiles.

    "No, no, not today," Laci replied above the bass vibrations of a recent remix of a Tom Jones classic. "Please, bring my bottle to the back, if you would? And a menu or two would be appreciated."

    Like most bars, the lighting was dim, but Laci expertly navigated us to a nook in the back corner containing two overstuffed high-back chairs that were unoccupied and relatively secluded from the rest of the floor. In a strange way, Laci fit right into the scene of the bar, though he obviously had a few decades over most of the other patrons. Almost as if he was part of the retro ambience and decor, like a backdrop character in a historical re-enactment.

    "They have bottle service here?" I asked curiously, settling into my chair. "I wasn''t aware there were any bars in Alameda that did that anymore."

    "It is a bit of a kindness the owner makes for me. I helped her with some minor difficulties when she was getting started." Laci brushed away the topic like the drops of rain from his hat as he removed it and set it in front of him. "But I must thank you for making time to see me."

    "Not at all," I responded. "I was surprised to hear from you, though." Distracted as I was at the time, it was unexpected to hear from Laci.

    "Yes, I must ask that you forgive an old man his meddling. I was curious about the program and company you were making, and asked a few friends I still know in the industry." He fiddled with his hat, looking down. The server arrived at that moment with a big smile, and carefully set down a caramel colored bottle with a broad base and what looked in the dim light like a couple of apricots or similar fruit at the bottom. The lettering on the bottle said Apricot P¨¢linka. Two tulip shaped glasses were placed in front of each of us with a deft motion.

    "Ah, thank you, Sandy," Laci smiled at the server, who smiled warmly back at the older gentleman before leaving as silently as she arrived. "She is a good child," he said to her retreating back, before looking with obvious pleasure at the bottle she''d left behind. "It is not easy to find this beverage in a drinking establishment such as this, so they let me keep my own here. Please," he said, lifting and uncorking the bottle and pouring the clear liquid into the glass in front of me. "It is better enjoyed with friends." He finished pouring a healthy amount into both cups, and set the bottle down. A strong floral aroma of apricot and alcohol stung my nose. He raised his glass and held it up expectantly, and I lifted mine in response. "Eg¨¦szs¨¦gedre!" he toasted. I echoed, enjoying the feel of the unfamiliar language, and we both drank.

    The floral aroma I smelled was strong on the tongue, but the overall experience was smooth and warm. It reminded me of a spiced pear brandy I''d had before, though obviously this was apricots instead. I could feel a pleasantly lingering finish as I swallowed the liquor and felt the heat down my throat. It was definitely sweeter than what I normally drank, and thought it would make a better dessert beverage than an aperitif. But Laci seemed to relish it, his eyes closed in satisfaction.

    "But enough of my dawdling," Laci said, setting down his glass and looking at me directly. "There are snakes already circling your company, my friend. One of them has already taken a bite."

    "What do you mean? We''ve barely even started talking about this a week ago." The idea of anyone antagonistic to our as-yet-unnamed company was absurd. We didn''t even know what we were doing yet, how could someone try to undercut us?

    "I do not know. But when I asked my friends about you, circumspectly you may be sure, they told me you were doomed before you began. Someone has locked you out of the market for AR hardware." Laci''s mouth flattened in a hard line, his eyes concerned.

    Well, shit. I thought. We hadn''t gotten this far yet, but it made sense that selling our program as a standalone software product would be difficult. AR glasses were still the domain of hobbyists and enthusiasts like Laci right now, so if we wanted to reach a broader market, the better option would be to bundle the application with AR glasses in a single package. That would mean a more complicated pricing structure and business model, but it made sense. Only, now it was clear that relying on a third party was also a critical dependency and risk ¨C and a weakness another party could exploit.

    "What do you mean, ''locked us out''. Us specifically?" I asked, my forehead wrinkling as I put together the pieces.

    "That is what I was told. AR glasses are sold by many suppliers, but they are manufactured currently by a mere three companies. And all of them have been ''persuaded'' to avoid any dealings with you or young Ms. Patel."

    "How would all three manufacturers lock us out? Aren''t they competitors? Isn''t that illegal?" I asked, incredulous at the implications. I gripped the arms of my chair as if to keep me from leaping out of it. What was going on?

    "Legal is about what you can prove and what you afford in this business," Laci sighed, and refilled his now empty glass. "And in a small market such as AR, the companies are more interconnected than you might think. They share suppliers, partners, and even investors. It is not hard to think of ways each might willingly or unwillingly be moved to act against you." He swirled the liquor in his glass, looking down at it with an introspective frown. "Especially for an unknown, unfunded, and unconnected newcomer such as yourself."

    I deflated in my chair. Laci was right. We were no one, we had no influence or power to speak of. We didn''t even have a name.

    "I wish I could help you, my friend," Laci said softly, barely audible over the music filling up the bar. "I do not enjoy being the bearer of bad news. But," he said, looking up at me, "I would save you this heartbreak if I could."

    "Can I ask who you talked to about this? How accurate is this information?" Before I took any action, I needed to verify this. It''s ok. Breathe. Figure it out, then figure out what to do.

    "I spoke to one of the executives of the AR hardware vendors," Laci replied, taking another sip. "We worked together in the past, and he still owes me a favor or two," he chuckled wryly, ''but sadly, not enough to affect this circumstance, I am afraid."

    As I sat there, mouth set and mind racing for options or solutions, Laci reached across the table and filled my un-empty cup. "I am not here to tell you want to do next, to give up or to fight." He then moved the bottle to refill his own. "But I will say this is not a problem you can solve at the moment. For now, drink. And let us talk together, and enjoy the P¨¢linka, you and I." He lifted his glass and held it out to me, sitting upright supporting his weight with his other hand on his thigh. Lacking any other plan, I did the same.

    "Eg¨¦szs¨¦gedre."

    Clink.

 Chapter 41: Sage Advice

    "So Marie looks deep into my eyes, as pure and innocent as a fawn, and says straight to my face with no trace of guile, ''I am sorry, Laci, but that is a hardware problem.''"

    Laci raised both hands in mock affront, but his lips curled upward at the memory. While the bottle in front of him had long since been replaced, his well of stories never seemed to run dry. Even with Swift Regeneration assisting me I was more than feeling the effects of the alcohol, but Laci was barely showing any at all. His cheeks were a little flushed, and maybe he''d grown a little louder as the evening progressed. But he was still as articulate and loquacious as ever, regaling me with stories from his days in the early days of the video game industry.

    Despite myself, I found my face smiling easily at his antics. The roiling emotions, the Anger and Depression were still there, raging behind a fog of P¨¢linka and the conviviality of Laci''s company. But I was drinking with Denial right now. I''d deal with them later. Meanwhile, Laci was more than holding up the conversation on his own.

    The evening''s festivities had well and truly begun at the Gimlet. The room was filled with pairs and trios of twenty-somethings standing at the well worn bar, or small groups of slightly older professionals talking boisterously at the tables. The music had been loud before, but now it was practically inaudible under the overlapping conversations and laughter of the evening''s revelry. But our nook still afforded us enough of a harbor to speak without yelling.

    "Ah, Mai," Laci sighed at last with a big heaving of his shoulders, and reached for the half-empty bottle in front of him. "I am sorry for this occasion, but I am glad to talk at last like this." He refilled my glass first, then his own. Then he held the bottle close to his face. Laci pressed his fingers against the letters of the bottle''s label, as if tracing them. He sat there for a while in silent regard, so I lifted my glass and raised it to take a swallow, letting him be. Then suddenly he blurted out "What is this thing, this company, to you anyway?"

    He caught me mid-drink, and I tried to suppress a cough as the liquid threatened to go down the wrong pipe. The act of keeping it in only made it worse, and I barely was able to swallow in time before turning and hacking painfully at the ground. I tapped my chest once or twice, then managed to squeak out, "What?"

    Laci peered at me, apologetic, but spoke in a clear voice above the din. "A company is a new thing you are bringing into the world. It can be many things, for many reasons. What is yours?"

    Pressing a hand against the base of my throat and swallowing against the burning, I reached for a cocktail napkin to wipe my eyes and mouth. "I don''t think I''ve gotten that far, to be honest," I replied after a moment. "It was just a thing I was doing, to keep busy after being let go," I paused, frowning. "And Bushra was excited," I mumbled sheepishly, trailing off. It didn''t sound like the inspirational story of a visionary founder. I wondered again what I was doing, if I was only stringing Bushra, and now Kris, along. Maybe this was the time to stop. Is this the Acceptance part, I wondered?

    Laci took a mouthful from his drink and rolled it around in his mouth before swallowing. "I''ve seen two kinds of companies people build," He responded after a moment. "One begins with the product ¨C this is what we will make, this is what we will sell. These are the transactions of things." He held out a thumb to the side, counting. "The other begins with the people," His index finger rose. "This is who we are, this is who we will become. This is for achieving the shared purpose." His hand spread wide then in indifference. "Both kinds can have their own kind of success, so long as you understand which you are making." He waved his hand around at the room. "Like Kim. Why do you think this business of hers exists?"

    I shook my head, unable to guess. I didn''t know Kim at all, but I don''t think that mattered to Laci.

    "It is a place to sell drinks, make food to sell, yes? For people to meet." He gestured in a wide circle, then wagged his finger in a negating notion. "Our Miss Kim wishes to remain young, and so she fills her vision with youth." Laci smirked and tapped the side of his nose. "The staff knows this, and trades their youth to her for money and a place to belong, to be young together. A fair exchange." He nods at his own explanation. "A transaction. An experience for an experience. The money that changes hands is to fuel this shared purpose."

    He then put his hand out to me, as if offering me a gift. "So. What kind of success do you want, Mai?"

    I shook my head, bewildered. "I don''t know? I mean, product is what I know. Features, price points, value props. Things, I guess. But..." I hesitated. It didn''t feel right. "I want to build¡­ is it wrong not to care what it is?"

    "Hmm. Wrong or right, I cannot judge." Laci''s shoulders rose and fell, before he peered at me directly. "But some day it will get hard. Harder than it ever was. You will be tired, dispirited, bitter. Even more than now. Why do you continue? Why not simply walk away from this pain? That answer, that is why your company exists. If you do not have it..." Laci trailed off, shrugging with his hands palm up.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I frowned, unsure where this was coming from, or where it was going.

    "And when you find what you want," he continued, "make sure the others want it to, or close. You cannot build two different companies. You must bring them together into one, or you must cut them apart. As the leader, you must do this." He pointed at me, a firm look in his eyes.

    "The leader?" I pushed back, shaking my head. "They''re doing all the work so far. I''m maybe contributing some money, but don''t know what I bring." I felt a weight settle on my heart, familiar and cold.

    "If you trust the team you''ve brought together, then trust them to build the company with you." Laci smiled warmly at me, making me feel even more of a fraud. Then he frowned. "If you don''t trust them, well. Why are they still here?"

    "What, like a committee?" I frowned, remembering fruitless meetings and product discussions.

    "It is not a committee, it is delegation," he asserted. "There is a difference in accountability and authority." He took his glass, and knocked the rest of his drink back in a single swallow. Then he pointed with the glass still in hand. "You are the one who must take a stand. When you stand up, your people will stand up for you." Then I saw his focus turn inward. "Sometimes, you are the only one who can."

    I felt uncomfortable in the silence that followed, and tried to shift the topic. ''Yeah, but how do I find what I want? I don''t know where I want to go myself, much less lead anyone there."

    Laci looked at me with his lips pursed. Then he put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, staring at me with half-lidded eyes. "My store offers many things to many people, but two stand out: Some come looking to escape, to hold the cold outside at bay. Living within the simpler rules they know and can understand, away from the complexities of their world. Or they are seeking acceptance, seeing in others a mirror to their dreams. Their passion reflected back in a self-perpetuating feedback loop." He tilted his head, lifting a finger from his other hand and wagging it at me. "You were trying to escape." He paused, as if waiting for me to deny it. I waited, wondering where he was going. "Only then, you had to then escape from the others." He took his fingers and emulated a figure running away. "But you come back," he smiled bemusedly, his fingers returned. "Like a moth, drawn to a flame to burn yourself again and again. Why?"

    I blinked, mouth agape, unable to respond. But he continued, as if my silence was expected.

    "Until," he said, "you come this week." Still supporting his head as if it were a great weight, he drummed his other fingers on the table. "You are no longer running. This company, this project you are developing. It turns the flames to sunlight, so you can spread your wings and fly." His hand made fluttering motions as he lifted it into the air. "Or is it that you turn into fire yourself? That is your ''why''. Look there." He smiled a sloppy grin at me, and I had a sudden urge to know what he saw when he looked my way, to see it too. But it was like catching smoke.

    "Bah," Laci closed his eyes and waved a hand in front of his nose, batting away my thoughts. "Listen to me, a foolish old man talking of fairy tales. Too fond of my own voice. Too much strong drink." He opened his eyes and smiled softly again across the table. "Your turn, now. I''ll order us some food to fill our bellies, and you tell me what all this is about, hmm? What you have been through."

    "Uh, all right," I answered, off-balance.

    After flagging down a server and ordering some items from memory, Laci began gently drawing out bits and pieces of my recent history as we waited. I gave him the sanitized version, similar to what I''d given the police, with no mention of gods. While I was talking, I was surprised by the intensity of the bitterness that rose up in my throat as I talked about my departure from Complyze. The impotence as I relayed Jon''s death. And the echoes of adrenaline and rage as I told him of the aborted kidnapping and its aftermath. Laci seemed to take it all in, to hold it precious like a fragile lattice of ice and crystal, accepting.

    As I finished, I felt a light-headedness wash over me. Or maybe it was the relief from a burden. I suppose it could have been the P¨¢linka. But the weight I''d had pressing down on my heart and mind since Laci told me of the newest problem was lifted away. There were still plenty of other worries to weigh me down. I didn''t know what I''d do next. But now I felt the strength to overcome it somehow.

    A notification appeared:

    New Quest.

    A Heart''s Desire

    Accept? Y/N

    While I was pondering this prompt and its provenance, Laci was nodding sleepily across the table over our empty plates and bottles. The food that had arrived during my recounting had disappeared, mostly into the belly across from me. But this was fair trade for the P¨¢linka. A transaction? No. I''ll call it a shared experience.

    "You are very much like my Marie, Mai. And not just your names." His voice was barely audible above the din, but his expression had rekindled into its normal brilliance at the mention of his wife. "She, too, will worry and fret, all the while moving forward. When she ran into some error that vexed her, she would curse the gods, curse the schedule, bemoan her fate, and fix the code anyway." He laid his head down on the table, his eyes drooping as he stared at the bottle. "Ooh, but my sweet little Marie will be so upset with me again," he muttered into the table. Then he turned his head up at me. "Why are you still awake?" he asked peevishly. "You are supposed to drink until you are too sleepy to worry, and then I take you home," he grumbled, giving me a sidelong glare from the crook in his arm. "But you are awake and I am drunk." He sighed again, and closed his eyes. "So instead, you must take a weary, old drunkard home," he smiled wanly, head lolling. "And maybe also to calm down my beautiful, wrathful Marie?"