《Monochrome Bleed》


 1: Things of this World

    A certain man once said that Earth and the world of men, were like an old tale that kept being told over and over again. Given countless repetitions and iterations.


    Creating countless alternate versions of what was ultimately just the varying angles, of a single small snippet of a much greater, grander story.


    Another tale too broad and too long for most to ever hear with any real completeness.


    In one particular version of the tale of man, in one particular earth it would come to pass that men would look up at the stars earlier, than they might have done in other universes.


    In this world early on a method for creating permanent near-indestructible data was made available.


    The preservation of most cultural and scientific records meant that man¡¯s understanding of the world would have fewer regressions, meaning that progress would be faster.


    Industrialization would come two millennia earlier than in the other iterations. Ditto for computers. Ditto for flight, ditto for space exploration.


    By the time the 18th century was coming to an end, this version of mankind would already have satellites up in orbit. Taking pictures of the blue green garden world that lay below.


    By the time the 19th century was beginning, men would walk on the surface of the moon...And this is when things would truly begin to grow strange for this particular version of the world.


    On the year of our lord 1903, Bosley Prospero and Arnault Solomon, would be the world¡¯s first astronauts to reach the moon.


    Their first words, to the earth, via satellite recording wouldn¡¯t be, ¡°It¡¯s so beautiful¡±...Or ¡°One small step for man, and one big step for mankind¡±...Or even a simple ¡°We did it, everybody.¡±


    Their first words would be no words at all, instead there would be just shocked gasps and silence. Bosley would collapse and Arnault would rush him back into the rocket.


    They¡¯d leave the moon earlier than scheduled, with Bosley nearly dying of cardiac arrest during the trip home.


    When they landed back on earth, the North America Space Authority would ask for reports of what exactly went wrong. Bosley would be too catatonic to answer, but Arnault wouldn¡¯t be.


    After much questioning they¡¯d get different iterations of the same answer. The same illogical, seemingly nonsensical answer.


    ¡°A cage...A big black and white cage. It¡¯s not supposed to be there, but it is...Why? Why is it there?¡±


    Shortly after his questioning Arnault would kill himself and Bosley would succumb to his failing health.


    Alarmed by the results of this first foray into space, it would be decades till mankind took a second crack at exploring what lay beyond its world.


    In the intervening time, two world wars would take place. With the second world war resulting in the bombing of both Japan and Germany, and the appearance of certain anomalous creatures in the aftermath.


    Historians and war reporters would find more and more evidence that rumors of the axis¡¯s use of supernatural weaponry and resources were worryingly credible.


    While the various governments of the world were recovering and looking into exactly what happened, one small firm would continue man¡¯s explorations into space. Working on the creation of space stations, and orbital habitats to assuage future fears of possible overpopulation.


    Again man would enter space, and again there would be tales of a black and white cage.


    A group of no less than sixty or seventy astronauts would describe a lattice structure of black and white pillars, all of them impossible high and impossibly long. All of them encircling the earth. Like a bird cage, or a rib cage surrounding the pulsating blue-green heart of some great celestial beast.


    The pillars would be surrounded by thick black and white mist, thick enough that it was almost a surprise that the earth could be seen within it.


    At first no one would believe the astronauts¡¯ tales. All attempts to record what they¡¯d seen would show nothing but a simple blue green marble, spinning alone in a dark beige sky. Accompanied only by the moon and the stars.


    Most would try to discredit and deny the little company from Kansas, but as the founders of Oz Co. found themselves in near ruins, the story would leak out. Spreading.


    Seventy something voices all telling the same tale was hard to ignore.


    Eventually various bodies and personalities from the various governments would grow less wary and more curious. They¡¯d seen cameras and satellites and men, and all would come back telling the same tale.


    A tale that in combination with what was learned from the second world war, would make an eerie amount of sense.


    It was either a black and white cage, or a white and black nest. A monochrome super-structure that surrounded the earth. A few thought it was perhaps some kind of super massive illusion, a trick of the light created by unknown particles that could only be picked up by human perception.


    Bolder minds, more open minds, men and women who¡¯d been on Normandy beach and saw mechanized, mesmerized trolls marching alongside the Nazi forces, thought differently. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    A few of the more radical amongst them guessing that what the astronauts were seeing was possibly the consequence of another world trying to emerge in the same spot that earth occupied, leading to a partial merging of realities.


    Such theories were scoffed at, at least in the beginning. Then a few intrepid fellows started to notice that there were points where the cage would intersect with earth, with its structures touching down with the worlds surface at several points.


    They explored those points and at first found nothing. Continuing their research till suddenly research teams started disappearing.


    Often leaving no traces of what happened at all, with only a few leaving blood spatters or bodies.


    Then finally one exploratory team returned and two things were known to the world. The first, was that all the tales were true, the gods were real, so were the spirits, so were the monsters. There was a world beyond our own where all the things were possible, be it the greatest of miracles and the worst of horrors.


    The Monochrome.


    A complex of worlds that crisscrossed our own reality. Leading to cities of the living that were intermingled with grand necropolises. Leading to forests and jungles that grew gradually more anomalous the deeper in you went. Leading to areas where it simply just wasn¡¯t safe to fly through because the skies would blend in with other skies, of realms where dragons, sea beasts and highly territorial living storms, were present.


    The second, was that magic was real as well. Real and as the boom of the 1950s would show, highly profitable.


    *****


    Interestingly enough, the two discoveries would get surprisingly little attention or fanfare. At least after the initial hubbub had quieted down.


    Perhaps it was because, the existence of magic was something even children knew and our adult forefathers just learned to ignore it overtime. Wisely looking away from the shadows lest the shadows look back.


    Or perhaps it was just the swift adaptive ability inherent in human nature.


    As if to prove that people could get used to and bored off nearly anything, most of humanity adjusted to an accepted the anomalous parts of reality with relative ease.


    After all besides a few exceptions despite everything changing, nothing much had changed.


    There were new medicines yes, new breakthrough in technology, and man''s understanding of the physical and new metaphysical world.


    The thing was that breakthroughs and discoveries were things that happened all the time.


    Except for the scientists doing the researchers, the marketers and capitalists looking to exploit and make use of this research, the governments whose main interest was in making this change to the Status quo didn¡¯t destabilize society, and few other interested parties, no one really cared on a real level about the direction of where and when progress came from, so long as it came.


    For your average person the existence of discovery of magic would be no more significant than the discovery of computing machines and locomotive engines many years prior.


    All they¡¯d know was that the late 1990s saw the emergence and popularization of home computers, the internet, cellphones, and one day shipping.


    Cosmetic-Wizardry would become a big thing as Hollywood movies grew more capable of greater and greater spectacles.


    Racial tensions between people of earth would become some reduced as racial tensions between the few sentients of the monochrome that immigrated from the world of magic to live in a more grounded reality.


    The skies would become dominated by mile high super towers that also served as grounding rounds to keep earth¡¯s reality consistent and stable as the ambient M-particle or magic levels increased.


    The zoo''s would gain a few new additions that everyone had either thought made up, or long extinct.


    And the heads of various religions would be debriefed by messengers of their respective gods warning them of the dangers of being too cavalier with the anomalous world that lay in the midst.


    The Catholic Church would be the first to speak on the confirmations of life after death that could be found in the monochrome and in the real world in the form of ghosts and spirits.


    The Buddhists would be the first to talk of the demons and some of the more ambivalent god-like beings that could found in the Monochromes.


    The Muslims and the theocratic Middle East would take a hard-line on policing the Wizards and Sorcerers of their part of the world.


    *****


    In the end most of the world would end up wishing it had taken a slightly more hard-line approach on the practitioners of magic and users of anomalous power.


    Their presence would make the world just little too anarchic and unpredictable. Unfortunately by the time such thought would come up, Wizards and Witches, Sages and Blessed Priests would have seized control of nearly every industry and government across the globe.


    Taking the Earth while the rest of the world was still figuring out what exactly they should do with their new reality.


    *****


    Things would come to a head by the end of the 21st century in the year 2099. When the rise of the various Wizarding Families, Witch Covens and Practitioner Clans, and a third world war headed by such groups, also lead to the rise of cults, coteries, and cabals.


    The Biggest such group would be the infamous Cult of Dantalion. A group of hedonistic demon worshipers headed by a group three powerful magic users.


    Their activities would be known on a global scale and they would be said to have ties to various terrorist groups, criminal organizations and dictatorships.


    The cult¡¯s name would be tied to all manner of crimes and atrocities.


    Growing in power, till they were almost a nation in and of themselves.


    Of course their high flight would come in hand with a heavy fall. The cult would try to swallow more than it could, attempting a military coup of a certain nation in South America.


    This would be used as an excuse, by various world powers, who till then had only had rumors, and no grounded reasons to act against the powerful, secretive and well-ensconced group.


    With the assistance of a new group called the Prospero Foundation, all but one of the three cult leaders would be killed by enforcers from the UN Council of Magi.


    They would then go after every cell and every branch of the cult. Often finding that the truth was sometimes worse than the rumors.


    Finding pits of corpses from human sacrifices. Finding cages with hollow-eyed half-men huddling within them. Finding brothels staffed with women and children, who¡¯d been taken against their will from both this world and the monochrome.


    In one branch of the cult, in North America, they¡¯d find that the cult leader had already been killed, they¡¯d find that everyone in the cult had been killed. Seemingly murdered by a pair of children, who¡¯d taken advantage of a very delicate ritual that had been taking place.


    The girl would go into foster care, seeming relatively normal. Later being returned to the custody of her father who was not a cult member and was in fact a member of the UN Council. Having sired the child with his estranged wife.


    The boy would be sent to a facility for anomalous criminals kept in observation till it was discerned that he A) knew nothing, and B) wasn¡¯t necessarily more dangerous than your average caster.


    The authorities in charge of the issue might have still held onto him, had the girl his sister, not begun to press charges and call media attention to their actions.


    A thing that the powers-that-be decided was less than ideal, due to the political climate at the time, and the fact that both siblings were still minors, barely ten and eleven years of age.


    The public and the various small groups of Wizards and Witches already thought them becoming too oppressive in their policing of the magical world. And the last thing they wanted to do, was give any survivors of the cult that might have gone to ground a cause to rally around.


    In the end the siblings were allowed to reunite. Naturally the Council would watch the two of them, just in case the apple hadn¡¯t fallen far from the tree.


    However, asides from both of them showing a certain level of proficiency in the magical arts, there seemed to be nothing special about the two.


    They lived as quietly and normally as could be possible in a world that needed grounding towers to keep its reality fading away. The girl rarely left the house, and the boy held a job working as an agent of the Foundation.

 2: Long Dark Hallways

    ¡°Come on...Come on, you stupid...Ah, there. Good...Phew¡­¡±


    Clancy sighed in relief as he watched a pool of white light pierce the near-impermeable darkness of his surroundings.


    With some trepidation, he swung the heavy duty flashlight around, looking behind himself.


    Pressed by a need to confirm that, that feeling that something was creeping up on him, that feeling that had been building up all this time while he was wandering in the dark, was just in his head.


    He sighed, letting loose the breath he¡¯d been holding all this time, as all he saw behind him, was an empty hall, dust-laden overturned furniture, and walls covered faded floral print wallpaper and old pictures.


    Breathing easier, if only marginally so, as he swung back around and resumed his exploration of the empty house.


    31 Mcallister Rd, was an ordinary house from the outside. It was a New England Colonial with a crooked chimney, and few of windows missing shutters. One could see at a glance that it had been some time since people had lived there, but it hadn¡¯t been so bad that city had felt the need to condemn it.


    The fence surrounded the house was still standing, the paint was still mostly unpeeled, and only one of the windows had been broken.


    In other words, for the down and out folk, of the down and out small town of Hatterton, it was what most would have called a fixer upper. Bad, but not so bad, that a little elbow grease, or if you had it, a little money, couldn¡¯t make things livable again.


    Or at least that¡¯s what they thought, till kids started disappearing.


    Well, first it was few homeless folk who started going missing. The house had sat empty for some time and the few patrolmen of the county police force rarely went all the way down to that part of town.


    Thus it was only natural that few squatters would try and temporarily take it for their own, when the seasons started to grow colder.


    The Autumn when the incidents began had been a particularly inclimate one, filled with hard rains and biting cold. The leaves drying up and falling like they were in a hurry to do so. Leaving all of Hatterton¡¯s trees barely like distorted black skeletons.


    After a few homeless folk began to go missing, stories started being told about the house.


    Those stories were spread amongst the town¡¯s youth, and small towns being small towns, eventually, inevitably, the kids started daring each other to go inside the house.


    The Adults tried to order youths away from the place but it was a half-hearted token effort, mainly made to keep the kids from hurting themselves or causing property damage.


    With the old house being an old house, with no owners, and with none of the children ever hurting themselves, the parent¡¯s objections eventually grew weaker. Especially when those same parents were former-kids who could remember being dared to enter the old house when ¡°they¡± were young.


    Again, this was all before kids started to go missing. The first missing child was girl by the name of Kitty Horne, the second was a boy by the name of Erving Steering. Though the disappearances were spread out enough that most were slow to make the connection, by the third child, Geraldo Wendal, the townsfolk started to get concerned.


    Runaways weren¡¯t unheard of, and occasionally did just go missing, but enough tales about the house and what happened if you entered after midnight, was more than enough to get people spooked.


    Finally getting the police to tape up and board up the house. When the fourth and fifth children went missing, concern became fear. The fourth child wasn¡¯t paid all that much attention, the fifth child was the former-mayor''s nephew, Roy Stanning.


    For him, the state police were called in, for him, the town¡¯s patrolmen actually did, what they¡¯d till now, thought nonsensical to do, and tried entering the house at night, after the midnight hour.


    It was after the disappearance of the town¡¯s entire police force and six state patrolmen, that the Foundation was called in.


    By this point it was clear that this house was not just a house, this house had somehow become an entrance into the Monochrome.


    While it was unclear whether this entrance lead into the spirit world, faerie worlds, a heaven, a hell, or any of the countless alternate realities that were tied to the black and white cage that surrounded this world, one thing was known. The house was an issue that could only be handled by a foundation certified Wizard.


    Clancy was on such Wizard. According to the silver-engraved card in his wallet, he was Class-2 Foundation Freelancer. Which meant he was just anomalous enough and skilled enough that the good folks at the Prospero Foundation could let him take on the tasks that the Class-3 elite freelancers, and the Foundation¡¯s own Caster Forces, were to busy to deal with.


    Considering that the outside of the house showed only three floors, and Clancy had been wandering through it for hours, having climbed from the basement up to what seemed to be a seventieth floor, it was questionable whether this was one of those jobs.


    All the same, it had been on the task board and Clancy had taken it, so he figured he might as well finish it.


    He wasn¡¯t entirely sure of his actual ability to do so, but finishing what you¡¯ve started was one of the few values Clancy¡¯s parents had instilled in him, so he was determined to keep on going till either he saw what he needed to see, or things got too dangerous.


    For all that he spent a large amount of his time wandering through dark places, Clancy didn¡¯t like the dark.


    Perhaps it was because he knew of all the terrible things that could be hiding there.


    That¡¯s what the flashlight was for. Heavy duty, metal jacketed, thick and strong enough to be used like a club, with its light scrolled over with sigils of blessing and evil repulsion.


    In case anything that the flashlight couldn¡¯t handle showed up he had a cricket bat, in the bag he had strapped to his back. He normally had an axe, but that got...lost, during his last job, so for now he was stuck with a cricket bat.


    He didn¡¯t really feel all that confident going anywhere just armed with a cricket bat. He¡¯d liked his axe more. But the bat was the only thing he could buy on short notice. He¡¯d made sure that it too was also enchanted.


    Covered in wards and sigils that both amplified the bat, making it stronger and sturdier. As well as amplifying the damage it could give, making the bat, heavier, filling it with a certain destructive essence, making the edge of its blade supernaturally sharp.


    Hopefully the bat and the flashlight would be enough, he had few other small odds and ends, and he knew a few spells that might be useful if they work, but those things were just in case of emergency.


    Though the flow of magic in air, had been growing thicker with each floor he passed, he was still somewhat hopeful, at the prospect of not running into any ¡°emergencies¡±.


    As his girlfriend was fond of telling him, Clancy Ambrose, was quite the optimist.


    *****


    Clancy had three tasks. The first involved trying to find out what happened the policemen and children who had been lost before. The second had been to try and hopefully find some survivors.


    The third task was to somehow put a stop to whatever was going in the house.


    Considering that this was the monochrome, and it had been more than twenty-four hours since all those people had gone missing, Clancy had immediately discounted the second objective.


    Spending more than one day in the monochrome could be a death sentence for even the most seasoned of casters. Nevermind, talking about an ordinary person¡¯s chances of survival.


    As one of the small percentage of people who¡¯d been lost in the chaotic anomalous worlds, and managed to get out alive, Clancy knew just how slim the odds were.


    If they were alive, then it was most likely that they were alive in a place so far from mundane reality that it¡¯d be near impossible to find them. And if the heavens smiled on them they¡¯d soon be dead.


    While there were habitable and hospitable worlds within the monochrome, the safe ones were few and far between and well warded to keep the nightmares that roamed the chaotic plane from entering. Just stumbling into one of those worlds was an extreme unlikelihood.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The vast majority of Monochrome worlds were filled with dreadful, violent, sometimes rapacious creatures that transcended the very worst the human imagination could manage.


    On that note Clancy was focusing on trying to find whatever creature, entity or artifact that was responsible for connecting the house with the Monochrome.


    As he climbed past countless same-looking floors, all of them procedurally generated add-ons to the of the actual house, he found the familiar feeling of magical strangeness getting stronger.


    Clancy hoped that the root cause of this incident would be an artifact. Though cursed, or rampantly anomalous items could still be dangerous, they were often simpler to deal with then beasts or dark entities.


    The finders keepers policies of the Wizarding world and the foundation, meant that once he was done sealing the item, he¡¯d have the option of taking it for himself to study or use, or giving it to the foundation to sell for him.


    Beast were less lucrative as opponents because unless they were a completely undiscovered race, or one of the types that had valuable body parts, they weren¡¯t worth anything.


    As for Entities, those could be quite valuable indeed, but no one wanted to run into one of those. The distinction between entities and the other creatures, beasts and beings of the monochrome, was in class and scale.


    Thinking of such a prospect, as he climbed from the seventy-ninth floor into the eightieth, made Clancy look around warily.


    To run into an entity, one of the highly powerful, highly dangerous, demons, spirits, lesser-gods and fae of the monochrome, would be akin to having someone staple a winning lottery ticket to a very large bear and throw it at him.


    A bit of extraordinary good luck, bundled in a massive amount of potentially fatal misfortune.


    ¡°Huh...What gives?¡± said Clancy. Finding himself unsure what to do once he¡¯d reached the one hundredth floor. Which was also the top floor. The building having reached the height of a skyscraper despite its external height stopping at three stories.


    Each addition to the house¡¯s mundane interior, had given Clancy no small amount of trepidation, building up his anxieties as he found himself going deeper and deeper into the monochrome.


    He¡¯d gone through each floor, achingly slow in his progression. Using a sensor charm and his own anomalous senses to search for the source of the phenomena.


    By the time he¡¯d swept through the thirtieth floor and had been in that house for more than two hour¡¯s time, he could have sworn that something was watching him.


    By the time the seventieth floor came, and he¡¯d been there for six-plus hours he was absolutely sure that there was something watching him.


    Its gaze piercing through him, it eyes laying an intangible burden upon his neck.


    Now that he was on the top floor of the distorted house, after a full twelve hours of searching, and nothing had leapt out at him or shown itself he didn¡¯t know what to think.


    ¡°....¡±


    Peering into the darkness with the flashlight in his hand. Cautiously opening and closing the final set of the doors in the floor.


    He took every measure a mage of his level could take, and still found nothing. This wasn¡¯t a good thing. In the Monochrome, you paid attention to your instincts, you paid attention to your feelings, because they usually were indication of something.


    Climbing up one hundred floors and feeling like something was stalking him, meant something was stalking him plain and simple.


    Having it not be, whatever was causing the distortion of the house, having it not come into plain view, it was enough to make Clancy sweat.


    Threats you could see, were better than the invisible sort. Every Practitioner of magic, in both sides of reality, knew this. It was the invisible threats that you had to worry about because you couldn¡¯t know when it would eventually loom into view.


    After a moment¡¯s thought, the freelance Wizard for a nice good corner to press his back against. He got a can of spray paint out of his bag and started painting a circle onto the floor.


    One filled with restless, shivery squiggles and sharp eye watering alphanumerics.


    A runic circle.


    The first circle, the larger circle was meant for a protection, a ward to watch Clancy¡¯s back for him and keep whatever it was he was sensing from sneaking up on him while he worked.


    The second circle was a scrying circle, centered around a map, with a bowl of water with a compass floating in it and Clancy¡¯s original sensory charm, submerged beneath.


    Both flared to life as they drew magic power from both the world of magic around them and the caster of the spells.


    Clancy grunted as he felt the sigils within the circle take their power from him. It was a dizzying feeling, not quite painful, like being in multiple automatic accidents, or being knocked over by powerful breeze.


    It left him breathless, but he still stayed on his feet. Recovering quickly after all the actual spellcasting was done.


    Something, tested, Clancy¡¯s ward of protection, its brief contact with the circle causing a conflagration of sparks.


    Clancy drew a sharp breath, his flashlight jerking upwards, his hand going towards the bat on his back.


    He waited for a fight, but nothing else was forthcoming. It was just a test, only a test. And one had to get used to being tested when one wandered through the monochrome worlds.


    In next to no time at all, he calmed returning his attention to his scrying spell, as it made an extremely thorough full-scale of the entire building.


    The air shimmered as the water in the bowl sank by an inch, burning off in a single too bright flash.


    The plastic coated sensory charm at the bottom of the bowl flared brightly wriggling like it was alive and more than just another sigil covered book-mark.


    Clancy picked it up and sank his consciousness into it to see what his spell had picked up, trusting his safety to the ward for a few seconds and hoping nothing really big snuck up on him.


    ¡°Okay...let¡¯s¡­.Wait, really? Are you serious? Shit.¡±


    Five seconds after sinking his focus into the supercharged sensor charm Clancy knew where the thing he¡¯d been looking for was.


    In the basement where he¡¯d started.


    He¡¯d searched in the basement already, but apparently today¡¯s target was good at hiding. He couldn¡¯t help swearing beneath his breath. Grumbling.


    The reason he hadn¡¯t used a high level scrying spell like the one he¡¯d just used, before, was because he hadn¡¯t known how big the house would be. He¡¯d yet to be sure how this distortion would play out and what nature of monochrome world it would connect to.


    Without that knowledge, scrying forcefully, was like using radar while sailing through dark waters during wartime. Sure you¡¯d get a better sense of your surroundings, but your surroundings would get a better sense of you as well.


    An inopportune ping could let the target know it should flee or have it charging in your direction. Which was why Clancy, being on his own as he was, had chosen to keep it as a last resort of sorts.


    If nothing else, it could at least be said that the climb down was quicker than the climb up, only lasting fifteen minutes or so.


    It was a good thing that this distortion wasn¡¯t the kind where the surroundings were constantly shifting. Remaking themselves so that the whole place became a sort of labyrinth. The house was still a house, albeit an unnaturally tall one.


    Clancy felt the feeling of being watched grow weaker as he left the distorted floors and stepped on the first real ones. A cold sweat beaded up on his brow as he made a guess on what exactly might have been watching him.


    ¡°......¡±


    The third floor was made up of bedrooms. The second floors was sitting rooms, bedrooms and bathrooms. The first floor was sitting rooms, the living, another bathroom, and a fairly devastated looking kitchen.


    Each everyone of these rooms had been searched beforehand.


    Finally Clancy returned to the basement, through which he¡¯d made his entrance into the house. Avoiding the front door, lest the disappearances be of ritualistic nature or the door be some kind of portal. A thing that wasn¡¯t always so and was actually quite rare, but was still common enough to make a cautious man like Clancy want to be extra careful.


    The sensor charm, began to hum, still being strengthened by the by scrying spell. Clancy felt a tug on his mind and heeded its direction, following it with his flashlight¡¯s light, till finally he found what he¡¯d missed the first time.


    ¡°There you are¡­¡±


    And there it was indeed. A door, to a closet, a door covered in dust and litter, far enough back that it¡¯d be easy to miss and hidden by a glamour.


    Putting away his charm and slowly sliding his bat out from bag, Clancy prepared to meet whatever was on the other side of the door.


    It sat in a pit of scrap cloth, bedding and bones, a gnarled, twisted, squat little man, with a matted gray beard, a pointed cap and ash on its sunk cheeks. It was both small and big, like a shrunken giant or an overgrown gnome, with short legs and long spindly arms.


    Its eyes luminous and malicious.


    Clancy didn¡¯t know what expression to make, he¡¯d hoped for an artifact and instead found a creature that sat somewhere between an entity and a beast.


    It was a Mal-Duende, an evil house spirit. A malicious member of the clan of hobs. One of the feral fae.


    It seemed to one of the older amongst its kind, magically potent enough to heavily distort the house, and well on its way to becoming a duende-lare. One variation of what the Greeks and Romans called household gods.


    Looking at the bones and bits of sneaker and blue and gray uniform that surrounded it, it seemed he¡¯d also found what had become of the policemen and the children.


    The creature had eaten them. It might have lived on rats and insects before, but such beings rarely turned down larger fare if they could get it.


    The puckered wounds on its arm, torso and face, spoke of the bullets that likely struck it as it faced against, the cops.


    Vulnerable and wounded, Clancy guessed that the reason the creature hadn¡¯t gone after him was because it had needed to recuperate.


    Any anomalous being that preyed on humans was slated for subjugation, these were the rule and there were very few exceptions.


    Even if this were one of those rare exceptions, the way the Mal-Duende, hissed and made itself bigger, as he stepped into its lair made him sure that there¡¯d be no settling this issue peacefully.


    Clancy exploded forwards, not wanting to let the creature have the first move. Swing his bat down onto the creature¡¯s brow.


    Dancing out of the way, Mal-Duende spat sparks and smoke like from out of a broken stove pipe. Clancy ignored them, taking the damage and exchanging with his own. Swinging his bat a second time, the blow breaking on of the Mal-Duende¡¯s long spindly limbs, collapsing its shoulder blade.


    The Mal-Duende gibbered angrily, cursing the interloper in its fae tongue. Clancy burnt away a bit of his magical aura to keep the curse from becoming something troublesome and swung his bat twice more. This time striking down on the creature¡¯s head, knocking off its cap and crushing its skull.


    It lashed out and Clancy felt a sharp pain at his side he ignored it and kept swinging the bat, keeping his arm in motion to saw the light leave the Mal-Duende¡¯s eyes.


    He continued swinging, breaking all its limbs, the magics that sharped the bat flaring as he severed its head from body.


    He dismembered the Mal-Duende and kicked the pieces away from each other to be sure it stayed, one never knew which creatures were quick healers and which weren¡¯t.


    Then once all this was over, he stopped and tottered backwards, breathing heavily. One hand pressed to his side, as he waited for the wound to stop bleeding.


    Swinging the bat a final time to shake some gristly and ichor of its length.


    Clancy reached into his pack and pulled out a rag cloth, using it to wipe the length of the cricket bat.


    While staring at the dismembered corpse of the Mal-Duende, Clancy frowned, making sure there was no sign of the pieces crawling back together and coming back to life.


    If they did, he¡¯d incinerate the body and reduce the beast to ashes, wealth was good, but staying alive was more important and he didn¡¯t want to have to fight the creature again.


    It could and would have been far more dangerous had it not been wounded already, and had he not gotten the drop on it.


    Once he was sure that this wasn¡¯t what was going to happen, he found himself hoping that he hadn¡¯t made too much of a mess of the body.


    High level fae corpses like these were valuable for artifact creation and potion making. Clancy brought out a knife and a bunch of decent-sized plastic-zip baggies. Dissecting the beast and placing the pieces into his bag.


    Though the Mal-Duende had been the size of a bear, or two times the size of your average man, he was able to store all of it. One of the perks of having a girlfriend who knew her way around an artificer''s lab, was a huge magic-craft geek, was that she could make bags of holding, inventory items, whenever he needed. Even though it was a lot of work to do so.


    Thus all of Clancy¡¯s pockets were deep, and his backpack was closer to a small closet, in volume.


    He double and triple bagged the pieces of the Mal-Duende, to avoid losing any of the precious magically potent blood.


    Then once that was done. He did a quick prayer rite, to free and commend the spirits of the creature¡¯s victims into the hands of any angels or similarly benevolent beings that happened to be nearby and exited the building.


    With the Mal-Duende gone, the house might well return to normal, but considering the extremeness of its distortion he¡¯d be recommending that either the foundation or the town, demolish or watch the property, just in case something else moved in.


    In either case, that wasn¡¯t his problem. His job was over. Clancy was done for the day.


    Now all he wanted to do was to report his completion of the task to the town and the foundation, and head home.

 Interlude: Info Dump: Magic System and Levels

    Magic in the Monochrome Bleed Universe all comes from M-Particles, which is the official name for the vast miscellany of anomalous particles that are current flooding the earth from out of the Monochrome.


    The level of planetary M-Particle Saturation rising with each passing year, which in turn means that more grounding towers are needed to keep reality stabilized.


    Magic as it is known to the people of Earth is a mish-mash of formal and informal systems. All of them quietly falling into place throughout history.


    The first system may have been responsible for the birth of the planet with the all secondary systems being created afterwards. Other systems were put in resident gods, visiting celestial entities, earlier civilizations.


    All these formal systems are blurred and intermixed, with a continual evolution of these systems being created by the informal super-system that is the collective unconscious, a multi-versal expression of the will of sentients mortal and immortal.


    *****


    Magic comes in a variety of elements and types. The elements deciding what portions may be manipulated while the types decide the behavior or form of that manipulated. With the combination of the two resulting various anomalous phenomena.


    Elements


    Fire


    Water


    Air


    Earth


    Metal


    Life


    Death


    Space


    Time


    Nothingness


    Types


    Creation


    Destruction


    Amplification


    Control


    Naturally the vague and miscellaneous nature of most anomalous phenomena means that this more a guide than any firm rule on what is or isn¡¯t possible in the world of magic.


    *****


    The Terms for a User of Anomalous Abilities, or caster varies, generally changing with the origins and sources of their power.


    Most are called Wizards or Witches, but Mage or Esper has also been used in certain areas.


    Ability Holders belonging to a particular faith or creed may be termed as Clerics, Priests or Saints if such is the source of their power.


    The Universally agreed upon terms for Ability Users is Practitioner or Caster.


    While power levels of different ability users varies according to the ability, the particular M-Particle in use and their specific bloodline, there is a system for roughly charting power levels according to M-Particle Concentration.


    Magi Power Chart


    Terrace


    Road


    Circle


    Spiral


    Palace


    Kingdom


    Sphere


    Each Stage or Realm of Anomalous Ability Use comes with a different nature of being and was decided upon according to what abilities that nature confers onto its user.


    Each stage is made of 9 ranks or levels, which each confer, a one-fold increase of average M-Particle Concentration.


    Resulting in a chart that looks more like:


    Magi Power Chart


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Terrace Magi


    1st Terrace


    2nd Terrace


    3rd Terrace


    4th Terrace


    5th Terrace


    6th Terrace


    7th Terrace


    8th Terrace


    9th Terrace


    Road Magi


    1st Road


    2nd Road


    3rd Road


    Etc


    Significance of the stages is as follows:


    Terrace: Basic ability to perceive and directly interact with anomalous particles. Basic Development of Anomalous Senses.


    Road: Basic ability to manipulate anomalous particles. Minor exhibition of anomalous traits. Basic ability to spellcast and make use of formal systems.


    Circle: Intermediate manipulation of anomalous particles. Moderate exhibition of anomalous traits. Moderate spellcasting ability and use of formal systems. Basic Development of Origin Spell.


    Spiral: High Manipulation of anomalous particles. High exhibition of anomalous traits. High spellcasting ability and use of formal systems. Moderate Development of Origin Spell.


    Palace: Basic Anomalous particle synchronicity. Basic Reality Manipulation. Extreme Exhibition of Anomalous traits. Full Development of Origin Spell. Basic Development of Origin Domain.


    Kingdom: Moderate Anomalous Particle synchronicity. Moderate Reality Manipulation. Moderate Development of Origin Domain.


    Sphere: Extreme Anomalous Particle Synchronicity. High Reality Manipulation. Full Development of Origin Domain.


    *Particle Synchronicity: A state of being where particle control is down to the level of being instinctual, requiring little to no conscious effort on the part of the user. Known to certain religious and philosophical groups as the state of ¡°oneness with the universe.¡±


    *Origin Spell: Users above the Road Stage, will generally tend to exhibit a single main unique ability or ability groupings, that is separate from any spells or spell systems. These are terms as origin spells as they are unique to the user birthed the interaction the anomalous particles and the user''s own psyche or ¡°soul¡±.


    *Origin Domain: An evolution of the origin spell, where the user¡¯s psyche implements a specific effect on reality, within a certain range of the user. Can be thought of as the reality bender version of the origin spell.


    Though much research on what is and isn¡¯t possible with magic has been done, there is still much that isn¡¯t known on the various anomalous particles and systems.


    And while the inability of users beneath the circle level to directly fight those stronger than them by a stage or more, is known, beyond the circle level, other elements come into play that makes caution in dealing with seemingly weaker opponents highly recommended


    *****


    Magic and Cost


    While it has not seemed to be the case for artifacts(living or otherwise), and non-sentient anomalous creatures, the general case has been that all magic use comes at a price.


    The primary price of magic is a biological one. All use of anomalous energy comes with a burn of mundane calories, that varies from person to person and bloodline to bloodline.


    The secondary price seems to be largely metaphysical in nature. Holding some anomalous symbolic connection to the scenarios under which a caster awakened.


    The secondary price of magic use must be paid if a caster wishes to efficiently recoup spent M-Particles and progress as a Practitioner.


    Secondary Prices are also known as ¡°Devil¡¯s Dues¡± and are often considered the ¡°primary¡± cost of magic use.


    Though broad in range they do all adhere to fairly consistent thematic standard, falling somewhere along a seven directional grid governed by the seven deadly sins.


    Seven Deadly Sins


    Lust


    Gluttony


    Greed


    Sloth


    Wrath


    Envy


    Pride


    With example prices being along the lines of: Some measure of Sexual Activity for Lust Users, Consumption of Food for Gluttony Uses, Sleep or lack of activity for Sloth Users, Accumulation of Wealth for Greed Users¡­.etc...


    These costs can vary either being broad or specific: e.g. becoming a requirement of specific sexual act with specific sorts of parties for lust users.


    They can also sit in between two of the sins on the seven directional axis: e.g. Consumption of Blood or flesh for Wrath and Greed Users.


    The third and final price that seems to specifically affect human casters and a few other of the humanoid races is the creation and mitigation of a caster¡¯s demon, or Anathema


    According to certain faiths, Anathema are said to be a sort of living ordeal. Religions that focus on duality have theorized that creation of caster demons is a result of some universal principle of balance.


    The simplest explanation of what an Anathema is, is that an Anathema is an anomalous life form that is created at the moment of new caster¡¯s awakening.


    There are such things as inherited demons but information on those is largely classified according the 1989 agreement of the UN Council of Magi¡¯s Global Representatives.


    All that can be said on the subject here is that inherited Demon behavior generally very different from ordinary Anathema Behavior.


    For most case¡¯s your average Anathema spends most of its life cycle dwelling in the Monochrome. While a majority of Anathemas are hostile to human life, there are few instances where Anathemas have ignored other sentients entirely.


    All Anathemas are born hostile to their creators and they spend the majority of their life cycle trying to hunt down and kill said creators.


    Their activity level and capabilities are dependant on their creator¡¯s levels as casters. Low level casters need only be cautious while in the Monochrome and even then the threat represented by their Anathema will be minor.


    High level caster¡¯s may find themselves stalked in any areas where the boundaries between the monochrome and mundane reality are thin.


    At the beginning of the Circle Magi Level and beyond, any run-in with one¡¯s Anathema has a high likelihood of being fatal.


    To progress past the Circle Magi Levels into the Spiral Levels, one must mitigate the threat represented by one¡¯s demon or risk being consumed by the demon at the moment of the breakthrough. (Dark Transcendence/ Dark tribulation)


    Demon Mitigation can only be done by the caster themselves, as any attempts to aid another caster with their demons invariably leads to Monochrome breakdown events. Instances in which the flow of reality has become so disturbed that interfering elements that tried to get between a caster and their demon were all either badly injured or killed.


    Mitigation of one¡¯s Demon can come in one of three Forms:


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Demon¡¯s Deal : Some kind of compromise that usually involves taking on an additional price to appease the Anathema. </li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Demon¡¯s Destruction: Somehow managing to slay one¡¯s demon. </li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Demon¡¯s Embrace: Either managing to fuse with, or tame one¡¯s demon. </li>


    </ol>


    Again entry into the Spiral Stage and Above can only safely commence after one¡¯s demon can is mitigated, as the demon¡¯s strength will always be equal to that of its creator.

 3: Their Happy Ending

    The Bedsprings creaked and groaned. Complaining but not complaining. Exulting in their burden. Their cries going higher, then lower, then higher again. Their tonality matching the pace of their occupants¡¯ movements.


    Up amidst the gathered sheets was a man and a woman, both similar and dissimilar in that way that seemed unique to couples who¡¯d been together for a long time.


    Coffee straddled cream, his dark hips grinding against her milky white flesh. Their hands were clasped together, their fingers tightly interlocked as if they were trying to push each other apart.


    One pair of crimson eyes stayed locked with the other. Pupils dilating and constricting, irises glowing with the light of hellish fireflies.


    She bit her bottom lip, a flush of color slowly rising into an ordinarily pallid face.


    A sheen of sweat fell from his brow onto her check. An annoyance that she ignored, concentrating on the slickness and heat that lay between the two of them.


    An amalgam of his saliva, an oil based lubricant, her own ¡°natural¡± lubricant, friction and a powerful flood of hormones that had been getting people their age into trouble from the very dawn of human history.


    This went on for close to three hours, with occasional pauses in between for changes in position and bathroom breaks.


    She was done, by hour two, but let him keep going because as a lust-type he could go on for hours and hours. And because he was a lust-type, she¡¯d still be into it till he stopped, riding his high, on a rail made of empathic linkages.


    Once he got his, it was time for her to get her¡¯s she got.


    By then, having moved from missionary to an old favored, lazy variation of reverse cowgirl, she was more or less sitting in his lap. She turned around leaning forwards, her full breasts pressing against his chest, her voice a soft whisper in his ear.


    ¡°Are you ready, baby?¡±


    He grunted his agreement, still standing to attention on her inner thigh, bumping along her inner thigh as she rose.


    She smiled and leaned forwards, giving him a kiss on the lips, a kissing on the brow, a kiss on the nape of his neck. Ritualistic, particular in her process.


    Finally she opened her mouth and reveal a mouthful of teeth that shifted from human looking and white, to shark-like and not quite silvered in a matter of seconds, sinking them into his flesh.


    He grunted again, his face a picture of love, his grin still in place even as he bled out.


    A few drops of blood dribbled over his shoulder, but she caught the rest with her lips. Using her mouth to form, an almost but not quite airtight seal.


    She began to suck, drawing him into her, taking his essence, as he¡¯d been taking hers just a few minutes.ago.


    He grew pale, his dark skin taking on an ashen cast, a few of his veins darkening, standing out as her power drew his life¡¯s blood into her gullet.


    Finally he gasped aloud, emitting a sound of pain, but never issuing a single word of complaint.


    By minute five he was light headed, by minute ten his vision was narrowing.


    At minute fifteen He collapsed into her chest and she embraced him, her arms around his shoulders. She gave him a squeeze that was two parts reflex, two parts affection, one part anxiousness.


    Finally she finished, and she lay him out onto the bed, his large frame seeming shrunken into itself, emptied dry, but not quite desiccated.


    Having exsanguinated her boyfriend, she got up and headed to his dresser stand, opening the first drawer and taking out the blue-white box she knew would be there.


    Inside the blue-white box was yet another blue-white box, this time made of metal instead of plastic, with sigils for refrigeration and preservation emblazoned on the surface. She opened it feeling that it was cool to the touch, as her body ran warm after its feeding.


    Inside the cases were impressions made to hold a set of two syringes. One sat empty. The other still had its contents. A cylinder filled with a radiant blue liquid, that sloshed slowly like heavy syrup.


    The substance was a complex of compounds, a creation of the best that modern medicine had to offer, made from rare, mythical biological ingredients and even rarer anomalous radioisotopes. Known to the foundation as Amrita-9.


    A serum that could restore catastrophic wounds and do everything but bring the dead back to life.


    She screwed a needle onto the tube, flicking it twice to get any air bubbles out. Then she went over, to her boyfriend whose body had by now, started to cool.


    Sighing, with a slightly regretful look on her face, because she knew that he¡¯d probably gone into cardiac arrest by now and was working his way into organ failure and brain death.


    And while this routine had gotten old by now, with the weight of the stakes feeling muted from repetition, she still felt touched that he¡¯d go through all this, making to wear his usual smile.


    Like he was just sleeping instead of dying, and having a very good dream.


    ¡°Welp, here we go..this is gonna suck¡­¡±


    She stabbed the syringe down, using enough force to make sure she hit the man¡¯s heart. The needle pierced his flesh, and the serum entered his system. Flooding the chambers of his stilled heart.


    The pitiable lump of muscle slowly and haltingly lurched into motion, a slow trickle of iridescent blue was pumped into his veins, mingling with whatever little traces of red remained in the man¡¯s system.


    Anne Genevieve Ambrose watched, standing there naked as the day she was born. Arms crossed, holding her breath till she watched the man finally draw his.


    She knew he would make it, she¡¯d been sure of it, having seen him come back from the bleak beyond countless times. Her¡¯s was a man that death couldn¡¯t take, and hell couldn¡¯t keep, his body filled with an evil, maniacal tyrannical sort of life force that refused to be denied. A hardiness of constitution that could regrow limbs, recover from critical traumas in minutes. A constitution that aided by the miracle serum Amrita-9 could be used to claw ones way back from the grave.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Even then, one couldn¡¯t blame a girl for worrying.


    He drew breath gasping, eyes wide open. Bloodshot and filled with a blazing red light. He spent a few minutes coughing, choking on his own saliva and blood for a few minutes, while the woman pounded his back, before exhaustedly sighing and collapsing back into the bed.


    Satisfied that her boyfriend was firmly back on this side of the mortal coil, she shook her head tiredly, flicking his still standing member with her forefinger as she turned and went to go clean herself off.


    *****


    Hours later Clancy would wake, his head pounding, the inside his of mouth tasting like a sour mixture of salt, copper pennies and mango scented body lotion.


    He was alone in his room, lying on bed-sheets that were dirtied by blood, sweat, a few other things and peanut butter.


    If he relaxed and let his senses dial themselves up, he could hear Anne sitting in her room, smashing the keys on her desktop.


    Either angrily typing something, gleefully typing something, or trying to figure out whether the machine had died again, because it was modded to all get up and seemed to be unsure whether it wanted to burn itself out or lurch into self-awareness.


    He could also hear four of the six televisions in her room, all of them playing at the usual level. Loud but not too loud. The on-screen characters issuing out a mixture of music, slow Spanish dialogue, rapid Japanese dialogue, and English expletives plus gun fire. The noises all blending into one loud slurry that for whatever reason the girl found soothing.


    Letting it carry on in the background while she did her thing.


    Clancy dialed his senses back so that all he could here was his immediate surrounding. He listened to the soft pulsations of the blood that slushed through his veins. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he lay there.


    Content assessing himself, making sure his healing factor had done what it should do, bringing him back from the edge of nothingness, and bringing him back just a little better than he¡¯d been before he¡¯d plummeted into the misty abyss.


    The Flow of magic within his body was stronger than it had been before, he¡¯d 3rd Spiral Magi when he¡¯d gone into that old house yesterday, now he was a 4th Spiral Magi. A seemingly small change with very appreciable consequences for his level of strength and anomalous ability use.


    His healing factor would be greater than it had been and more reactive. His spellcasting would come easier. His origin spell, the Red Devil¡¯s Waltz would grow more defined more powerful.


    This was just fruits of being a lust-type Caster with a very loving, extremely understanding girlfriend. The consistent sexual activity helping him cultivate his M-Particle level.


    Letting him traverse in months, a path that others would have taken a decade or more to complete.


    He lay in bed with his eyes close till his awful headache had faded to something slightly less debilitating.


    Once he could move without feeling like he wanted to die again, he headed for the shower. After getting cleaned up and dressed, what would follow, would be a miscellany of the usual errands that he did around the house.


    Starting with him cleaning his room and the aftermath of he and Anne¡¯s wild romp and ending with him making a roast and a potato casserole for dinner.


    Somewhere in between all that, he¡¯d ended up cleaning the rest of the house as well, dusty, sweeping, vacuuming finding something vaguely therapeutic in the action, even though he wasn¡¯t actually all that happy about the fact that he was the one who generally ended up having to do most of the domestic stuff around house.


    Begrudgingly accepting the duty, because he was bit of a pushover and his girlfriend was bad enough at doing it that her attempts to help were either ineffectual or resulted in making things worse.


    He set up dinner in the living room because they always ate in the living room. In the years that they''d lived in their little townhouse on the edge of suburbs, they¡¯d never once used their dining room as anything other than a place to put things that couldn¡¯t fit in their closets and didn¡¯t make sense to store in any of their work-dedicated storage rooms.


    He sliced off a big hunk of roast for himself, heaping the plate with casserole, gravy and greens. Then plopped himself down onto the couch, to watch one of those brightly animated children cartoons that were well done enough to have a large adult following. He wasn¡¯t exactly clear on what the name of the show was, but the jokes were punchy, and action suitably distracting and the plot simple enough that he could let his mind go on vacation while he ate and that was really all he needed.


    If he really wanted to know he¡¯d just ask Anne, he¡¯d bet money that if she didn¡¯t have a little figurine of one of the characters in the show on a shelf in her room, she¡¯d at least, have a poster under her bed somewhere.


    While she wasn¡¯t really all that into pop culture, she followed it closely as part her crusade to consume as many forms of information and media as she could. As well as to kill time during the period when she wasn¡¯t working on some big project.


    Around the second half of the second act of the show, Anne wandered in. Dressed down, in an old sweatshirt with a Cartoon Pig and a balloony caption of the word ¡°Oink¡± printed on the front.


    Clancy set her up with a plate as she not-quite daintily lowered herself down onto the sofa beside him, shifting in place like a cat trying to make itself comfortable.


    Anne mostly just picked at her food, mainly focusing on the meat, and potatoes but ignoring the greens. Despite all Clancy¡¯s nagging, Anne was the kind of person who believed it was enough to get all of one¡¯s vitamins in pill form.


    The couple sat in silence neither of them feeling the need to say much in the two hour time span while they ate. Making up for spent calories and answering their evolving forms, requirements for nutrients. Supplementing the meal with snacks, junk food and whatever they could microwave.


    Although Clancy had thought he¡¯d already cooked in abundance, it would seem that they needed more. They even ended up ordering a pizza.


    All this was a consequence of Clancy being a reciprocating lust-type. His cultivation method giving benefits to his partners, benefits that were further boosted by his peculiar physique. And were boosted again, when Anne¡¯s harsh price of gluttony and greed, required her to consume the entirety of his blood at least once every two weeks.


    A price that had to be paid if she wanted to stay sane and human. A price Clancy was fully willing to help her pay because it was his father¡¯s fault that she was that way.


    This was their life. He would die for his girlfriend anytime she asked and would almost certainly die again in two weeks time, drained dry so she could function as a person. He spent his days constantly almost dying on the job, that was just the way of things.


    The two would do their best to make end¡¯s meet, with Anne working at home as a spellscripter and computer programmer.


    And Clancy working as freelance agent of the foundation, wandering the through the madness of the monochrome because it was quite lucrative as far as wizarding work went. Especially when one happened to be just a little bit overpowered compared to one¡¯s peers.


    The two of them together, doing much better than one would expect a college dropout and a shut-in to be able to do. Still just making ends meet with the requirements of their lives as practitioners and pricey-ness of the serums that kept Clancy¡¯s deaths from being permanent.


    ******


    This was their happy ending. This was the life they¡¯d carved out together, having gone from two scared children, to two mostly alright, but healthily cautious and world-wearied, young adults.


    As could be guessed from the shared last name, Clancy Ambrose and Anne Ambrose were technically married


    That was mostly for tax reasons, since the state of New Camden was fairly generous to married couples, in attempts to rebuild its population after a devastation of the territory a few decades prior.


    As well as because, the two were honest enough when they were building their life together, to admit that they could use all the help they could get and they figured they might as well take that final step, at least, as a formality, since they both knew that what they had was only going to end when one or both of them were dead.


    The names were fake, Foundation-given replacements for the real identities that they were all too happy to put behind them.


    Before that, they¡¯d been siblings, adopted of course. Anne had been the daughter of cultist agent, her father having absconded in search of bigger better things. Her mother failed the cult too many times and eventually died within the monochrome.


    Clancy had been the badly abused, very broken son of one of the cult¡¯s senior members. Twisted by his father¡¯s ambitions to turn his boy into a god.


    They were originally intended to kill each other, as yet another of his father¡¯s experiments, each one made to play on the weaknesses of the other. The Yin to the Other¡¯s Yang.


    Meant to create a great victor like insects trapped in a poison jar, but instead clinging together against the madness and the monsters, somehow coming through the worst of it alive.


    Even managing to overcome the pressures that came after the Cult of Dantalion fell.


    Where Anne was rescued as the darling daughter of Alexa Reed, misguided cult follower and victim, and the heroic Howard Goulding one of the US¡¯s two representatives in the UN. Paraded through the media for weeks so that her father could get some much needed sympathy votes in his bid for US Senator.


    While Clancy was locked away as the deranged son of the Black Blooded Devil. The same Black Blooded Devil who¡¯d been the former head of the Cult¡¯s North America Branch.


    Here they were out from under all that had happened to them, free, making it on their own, and together. Still boyfriend and girlfriend, because neither of them were wearing wedding rings, and they didn¡¯t feel like letting the little certificate that had been filed away in their shared office, label them.


    Here they were, happy. Happier than they might have ever expected themselves to be capable of being during the worst of all that hate and blood.


    *****


    Whatever shows they were watching finally ended, replaced by a fresh faced tween who was feigning enthusiasm for what would ultimately be a ¡°meh¡± film. Clancy stretched yawning completely exhausted because of the breakthrough in his cultivation and that whole coming back from the dead thing.


    As for Anne, she was wide awake. Supercharged still running hot from a fresh dose of Clancy¡¯s life¡¯s blood.


    While she could theoretically knock herself out with a heavy overdose of sleeping pills, or a powerful enough sleeping spell, she was more likely to just wear herself down with a series of overnighters. A litany projects she still had yet to finish, video games she¡¯d been wanting to beat, movies to watch and books to read, that would eventually end with her falling asleep at her desk.


    ¡°G¡¯night.¡± said Clancy. Leaning over, to give her a peck on the lips. She kissed him back, leaning her head back a bit so she could still see the television. Her hand on the remote, switching it over to the cable box¡¯s on-demand menu.


    ¡°Night¡­Love you.¡±

 4: Back to Work

    The following Monday saw Clancy back in his town¡¯s branch of the Foundation headquarters. The small city of Fontaine¡¯s Foundation office, was a cross between a mall and the dmv. Loud but orderly, with the pale turquoise walls and wide clear windows. All covered in posters and holographic advertisements.


    The vendors were kept to the first floor while the more bureaucratic business was handled on the second, where a big wall of liquid crystal showed a highlight reel of open requests.


    With the real important stuff handled on the third floor behind a warded door, a security gate and some slightly overweight but well-armed guards.


    As was likely intended, people who went into the Foundation Office would often either buy something and then do whatever they¡¯d come to do, or they¡¯d do whatever they came to do and buy something as they left.


    Clancy was no exception to this, stopping over at one of Foundation¡¯s shop counters to make his usual purchase.


    ¡°So that¡¯s Six sets of Mind-Regen Meditation Supplements, Six Sets of Viridian Healing Potions, Four Stacks of High Count Warding Cards, Two Canisters of Black Warding Ink, Two Canisters of White Warding Ink, One Pack of Multi-Color Warding Ink Mini-Canisters, Eight Sets of Advanced Level Alchemical Reagents, Four Sets of Expert Level Alchemical Reagents, Two Class-B Beast Capturing Cages, and one double-pack of Amrita-9.¡± said clerk. A red-headed woman who sat behind the glass booth that Foundation mandates had all their vendors sitting behind.


    ¡°...Righterino.¡± said Clancy. Forcing a smile when what he really felt like doing was crying bloody tears.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be $36,240.00, please.¡± said Clerk.


    Clancy nodded. Sliding his credit card and his Foundation membership card onto the counter.


    The clerk took it, and ran the card through her machine, typing on her console and waiting while beeped and booped and made a bunch of hungry crunching noises.


    A minute later Clancy got his cards back with a receipt on top of them.


    ¡°Your orders will be delivered to the address you provided.¡± said the clerk. Giving a charming but entirely perfunctory smile.


    ¡°Thank you kindly.¡± he said. Nodding his head and turning away from the country. Still wearing his own forced smile.


    Trying to look like he wasn¡¯t just a little stressed because even having recently soloed that job in Hatterton, his purchase just now, plus the bills, utilities, and the mortgage on the house, would push his and Anne¡¯s shared account into the red by about $15,000.


    Or at least that would be the case if he didn¡¯t do anything by the end of the month, which was in about one and a half weeks.


    It wasn¡¯t even about them living within or outside their means. They lived within their means and their lifestyle wasn¡¯t particularly extravagant, despite all of Anne¡¯s hobbies, which generally paid for themselves in the long run.


    Since they usually had at least a net positive effect on her work, if they didn¡¯t end up directly becoming part of her work. Something else she could do on the side to help them keep their necks above water.


    What it was, was about them being casters, and worse yet, cursed casters. Casters with a bunch of pain in the ass baggage to deal with if they didn¡¯t want to die or fall into a bad way.


    If they were normal folk or even just a normal working class Wizarding family, it would be different. Just Clancy¡¯s income alone would be enough for the two to count themselves as upper-middle class, maybe even slightly wealthy. Even with the effects of world-wide inflation.


    As a Spiral rank caster he could solo jobs that casters of the circle ranks and below had to do in teams, and not have to split the reward.


    Were they ordinary folk, what he made would be more than enough for the two of them to live on. Especially with Anne¡¯s online work and commissions added in.


    The problem, again... was that they weren¡¯t ordinary. Clancy¡¯s father had seen to that with all his damn experiments. Anne had a hunger than didn¡¯t just demand blood, but also called for death which meant paying the Amrita to avoid from creating a body count, and as for Clancy, he had his own issues that were costly to deal with.


    Even if the two weren¡¯t trying to cure their problems by ascending past mortal bounds like every third poster in the Foundation Office suggested, every good little wizard or witch should be trying to do, just staying as they were and trying to get buy would be equally as costly, if not more so.


    Since staying still would mean having to deal with the costs of their symptoms progressively getting worse.


    In which case they might as well try to keep on ranking up and getting stronger, more magical and in control till they didn¡¯t need all those drugs, warding materials and cages.


    Which again, brought the problem full circle since it simply just wasn¡¯t affordable to fund Magical Cultivation on one¡¯s own dime.


    It was actually pretty much impossible, or at least so near so, that most people either, joined sects, joined clubs, joined gangs, joined sponsored teams, worked for private companies or found religion to pay their way through.


    With the only people who stuck on their own not doing so, being the normal folk. The commoners. The humble dirt farmers and wage slaves of the magical world.


    Those freelance mages, who happened to just have an enough talent or skill to get by in the lower end of the food chain.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Clancy and Anne¡¯s situation was a little bit better than that, but not by much. If they weren¡¯t so abnormally strong, what with the problem of their Anathema¡¯s having been handled by their shared curse, they¡¯d have likely not been able to hang on as long as they did.


    Then again, if it weren¡¯t for those curses, they wouldn¡¯t have needed to have to hang on. They¡¯d have been free to live completely normal lives. Living in comfort and ease like any other wizarding couple at their level.


    In the end, as saying and goes, if wishes were fishes then everyone could eat. After checking his account to make sure that he and Anne were still good for the present, Clancy put away his phone and headed towards the second floor where posted task could be received and accepted.


    If the Foundation¡¯s offices were indeed like a cross between a mall and a dmv depot, the bureaucratic lobby where all the agents got their business seen to was a lot like a food court. Mainly because there was a big wide area with tables and benches for people to sit down and eat, or otherwise just kill time, if they didn¡¯t want to wait in line.


    Most of the lines were for the reward windows and the ticket machines that gave tickets for getting into queue with all the other windows.


    Clancy waited five minutes to get his, spending most of it, wondering about the origins of the flaming neck and back tattoos of the guy he was standing behind and whether they were magical in nature.


    Once he got his ticket to get into the job queue, he went and found somewhere for him to sit down. Sitting near the corner of the room, back to the wall, arms crossed, chin tucked down. Napping but wide enough awake that he¡¯d hear it if they called his number.


    Having gotten good and comfortable Clancy dreamt of naked, dancing ladies, Clancy being Clancy, though ladies soon all turned into clones of Anne. Over-thinking it, a part of his psyche questioned the repercussions of the world having that many Anne¡¯s in it.


    Those questions were answered by a three-part answer from his penis, heart and a very nihilistic portion of his brain. That all more or less decided they didn¡¯t care. Anne was well,...Anne. He loved Anne, and He didn¡¯t quite like the rest of the world that much in comparison.


    If he had to nearly die, six more times than the norm to allow for this hypothetical, then so be it. And if that wasn¡¯t possible, then at the very least 4.53 billion years was a pretty good run for this planet, and it wasn¡¯t like there weren¡¯t colonies on the moon and Mars.


    It was even said that their magical flow was free from a lot of the negative influences of the monochrome. So that was one upside for whatever remained of humanity.


    ¡°Hey stranger?¡± said a voice from somewhere above and behind where Clancy sat.


    Clancy awoke instantly but staggered the process of his return to consciousness. Opening his eyes but keeping the rest of his body perfectly rigid, in a flinch that lasted one one-thousandth of a second.


    Sensing no danger he made himself relaxed suppressing his instinctive reaction of violence and undoing the haphazard spell that he¡¯d been about to throw out.


    He turned around to see who spoke and saw a slender man, with an athletic build, tan skin and light green-brown hair. On his back, He carried a case with the crystal capped barrel on an auto-stave peaking out of it.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you...shit, how goes it Dennis?¡±


    ¡°It goes well¡­Clancy. At least for the most part anyway.¡± said Dennis Dane. A friend of Clancy¡¯s from way back when he was just starting out and was still figuring out this whole being a ¡°mostly¡± normal person schtick.


    ¡°Good to hear. Are you here picking up a job or dropping off a completion ticket?¡±


    ¡°Picking up a job. You?¡± said Dennis, sitting down, on the chair opposite Clancy¡¯s at the table.


    ¡°Mhm...Same.¡±


    ¡°Ah...how about we do a team up?¡± said Dennis. Smiling in that mischievous, its a conspiracy, but its okay, since you¡¯re in on it too, way of his. The same smile that had charmed the formerly hard-edged Clancy into making friends with him when they first met during Clancy¡¯s extremely brief tenure in college.


    Clancy couldn¡¯t help grinning back, but the grin soon faded, his expression turning cloudy and slightly troubled.


    ¡°.... Not to be that guy, but you know about me and team ups.¡±


    Dennis shrugged.


    As a spiral ranked magi, it was only natural that even a guy who was lacking in all but the most basic social graces, and didn¡¯t do much palling around would get a few people trying to make friends. Most these friends coming attached to recruitment offers. Even if casters were a dime a dozen in this world, quality would always be in high demand.


    For each and every offer Clancy had gotten, including those from a few well-known companies, groups and even the Foundation itself, he had declined. Doing so politely but decisively.


    It was a known fact Clancy Ambrose didn¡¯t do teams. It wasn¡¯t any lone wolf nonsense. It was just pragmatics and economics. Past the 5th Circle a foundation agent had the option of accepting a job normally or paying a small nominal fee to accept the entirety of the mission by themselves.


    Most people did so, for the sake of monopolizing a job for their teams. Clancy did so for the sake of monopolizing task payouts for himself. As the simple fact was that doing a job that paid out $2,000.00 dollars per participant and buying up all six participation slots meant a pay-out of $12,000.00 dollars.


    Beyond that he didn¡¯t want to be tied to anything. He liked living his life on his own terms without having too many people being able to make demands on him.Especially contractual ones.


    Lawyers and Wizards were two types of people that were far too good at being tricky with words and as such they tended to be careful of each other.


    Besides after finally being freed from the hellish Cult of Dantalion, the whole idea of becoming part of an Organization and working for that organization¡¯s purposes gave the man goosebumps. While there was no avoiding it when you lived in civilized society, Clancy still wanted to be careful that he didn¡¯t get entangled in anything troublesome.


    ¡°Yeah, of course I do, Clancy. Shit, I¡¯m pretty sure there¡¯s a fair amount of folk in this Fontaine Foundation Office who know about you and your policy on team ups...Still, I bet you it¡¯d be a hell of fun. Good money in it too.¡±


    Clancy sighed, naturally, being an extremely sociable sort, Dennis was part of a team. More than that, he was one of the heads of his team.


    Wizard Groups or Squads, that served the foundation as Exploration Teams, were like sports teams in that they came in Major, Minor and Amatuer leagues.


    With the Major and Minor leagues getting sponsorship deals with companies, sects and other parties who either worked in the Wizarding world or wanted an in with the foundation and UN Councils.


    Dennis¡¯s team, the Three Princes of Greenglade, was backed by the Greenglade Brewery out in Barton, one of the towns neighboring New Camden.


    As to why a Brewery would be sponsoring a Foundation Wizard Group, in this world of magic and the monochrome, there weren¡¯t that many people who didn¡¯t have a wizard or two at their beck and call, just in case. Besides the Foundation was a bit like privatized army, for the defense of the human race, it was good PR to be seen doing you fair share.


    If that good PR also came with increased resources and access rights to monochrome based goods from the foundation and the almighty UN Council, as well the surety of knowing you had a team of magical badasses in the fortunate but not completely unlikely event that something went down, then so be it.


    Clancy scratched his cheek thinking of how to respond to Dennis¡¯ casual goading. His nail scritching through the nine-o¡¯clock shadow that was already growing in even though he¡¯d just shaved today and it was only eight in the morning.


    ¡°Do I really got to twist your arm buddy? After all that we¡¯ve been through together? Come on, just come, have a meet and greet maybe help us handle a little something, just to see what life''s like with other people there to watch your back for ya and then if you don¡¯t like it, I promise I¡¯ll never bring up teaming up again.¡± said Dennis. Making a last minute push and doubling down on his hard sell.


    Dennis was a friend, a genuine friend, one who¡¯d been there for Clancy and Anne when they were just starting their lives in New Camden. Giving them a fair bit of help settling in.


    Even if Clancy didn¡¯t really like working in groups, he figured that putting up with one just the once was the least he could do. Especially for one of the extremely small handful of friends he¡¯d managed to make in the years since the fall of the cult.


    Though he really didn¡¯t want to, Clancy felt like he really didn¡¯t have much choice but to relent and give a little compromise.


    Agreeing to meet the team because he reasoned that Dennis A)might actually be in need of help and B) might also be trying to give Clancy a hand again, because his reasoning was sound.


    Generally it ¡°would¡± be dicey, dangerous and downright irresponsible for a lone Wizard to head into the monochrome alone.


    ¡°Fine fuck it...I¡¯ll meet your damn team and maybe even do a mission with you guys too¡­¡± said Clancy. Pretending to grouse.


    Dennis drummed the table, smiling.


    ¡°You won¡¯t regret it, man. These guys are good people, good at what they do and just generally decent folk.¡± said Dennis. Jumping up and heading off to finish whatever it was he¡¯d been doing before he¡¯d seen Clancy napping at the table.


    Clancy saw him off and heard the prompter call his number. He got up with a sigh, aware that this meant he¡¯d end up doing a little more work then he¡¯d planned for this week.


    Though Dennis had said the money for whatever his team had set up, was good, being the cautious guy that he was, Clancy would still need to do his own solo stuff to make sure that Anne and him were okay for this month¡¯s expenses.

 5: Trust Fall

    At 6 AM, on a Tuesday morning, the Three Princes of Greenglade, Monochrome Exploration Team, headed into the Monochrome gate located just outside of the city of Fontaine¡¯s city limits. Using a teleport-key to drop into a particular monochrome realm.


    The group of ten foundation agents found themselves in a world of idyllic hues.


    A dream-like world with a blue sky that felt like had been painted there, and clouds that gave the impression that they were all, really just cotton ball swirls that had been glued onto the canvas of the heavens. The sun, a mere ornamental bulb that hung on a hook, supplying just the right level of brightness and warmth.


    They meandered through the winding streets of a city of crumbling alabaster stone. Passing simple-souled people, who dressed as if they were from another age. Garbed in togas and robes. Their hair fair and shimmering, their eyes like marbles, their flesh like bronze.


    Their group grew one person larger, when they hired a guide to take them to their destination. A woman who by the name Vivi.


    Eventually the group found its way to a tower. Showing permits to the broad-bodied guards who waited at the gates of the tower.


    They entered the tower, with the intent of climbing to its highest floor and seeing their relatively painless endeavor to its conclusion. Getting mid-way through before calamity struck.


    *****


    ¡°Catastrophic Damage Received, Beginning Recovery Process, Recovery at 10%.¡±


    Clancy would be the only one who heard the voice, hearing it as he and the others awoke. Rising after having been swept off their feet and thrown into a deep unconsciousness


    The voice was a familiar one, he knew it, remembering its owner''s name before he remembered his own.


    It told him things, filling the gaps and yawning holes that the magic had been blown into his memory. Allowing him to pull himself together sooner than the rest of his companions in the tower did.


    ******


    Meeting people was always hard, it was harder still if the multitude of worst case scenarios one had stored in one¡¯s head, were accompanied with freshly recollected justifications.


    All of them serving as reminders of why the most dangerous and unpredictable creatures one might run into on a dark and stormy night, were other people.


    If it weren¡¯t for the voice in his head, murmuring reassuring thoughts, while giving status updates on his recovery process, Clancy might well have just turtled up. Curling onto his side like a shrimp with his back to a wall and a suitably dangerous spell gathered at his fingertips.


    ¡°Uh...hi, guys the name¡¯s Maxwell...I mean...no...Wait, My name¡¯s Clancy...Wait did I say Maxwell? My name¡¯s Maxwell..No, wait, dammit, My name is Clancy...Clancy. Hi guys my name is Clancy Ambrose.¡± said Clancy. Introducing himself to the group of nine or so strangers that the voice in his head, assured him were his teammates.


    ¡°Wait, so is it Clancy or Maxwell?¡± said a handsome-ish man with swept blond hair and a crooked nose.


    Clancy had to think about that for a second. For whatever reason the name Maxwell sounded right, but at the same time he knew it was wrong. Eventually he made up his mind.


    ¡°It¡¯s Clancy.¡±


    The blonde-man frowned.


    ¡°Then why did you say it was Maxwell?¡±


    Clancy frowned trying to think up a reasonable excuse.


    ¡°Maybe because you said your name is Maxwell first?¡±


    The other Maxwell thought about it and then he shrugged, seeming to accept the answer at face value. A thing that the group had been doing quite a lot for the last few hours or so.


    Accepting that things were so, because their brains were still recovering from the anomalous pulse that was released from the tower, destroying their memories of the last twenty-four hours and scattering their recollections of their former selves.


    ¡°Hey, you two! Keep up or get left behind!¡± shouted a gruff voice from the front of their little procession.


    Not wanting to get left behind lest they become physically lost on top of their mental disorientation, the two men stopped talking and followed the rest of the group.


    With the group following four amongst their number. The first three of whom, seeming to have been affected the least amongst the team, for some reason of the other.


    The leader amongst them was a man named Esteban. Esteban was tall, tan and dark haired. A strapping, well-built fellow, with a devil-may care manner to him.


    Marching at the head of the group with his machine rifle jauntily resting on both his shoulders.


    Beside him was a woman named Nicole. A fair haired witch with hang-dog look to her. With blue bags under her eyes, and blue eyes that seemed to dart left and right, peering into every errant shadow.


    Behind Nicole, was a woman named Vivi, curly haired, with a Mediterranean complexion, dressed differently from everyone else. Her tan and green breeches and tunic setting her from everyone else who seemed to have come ready for war. Dressed in armor of both the mundane and magical varieties.


    And Behind Vivi, was a shifty-eyed, grave-faced man named Dennis. His green-brown hair in disarray. An ugly bruise slowly rising up on the left the side of his face.


    Esteban, Nicole and Vivi seemed to know what was up. Which was good, since no one else knew much of anything. Had they not been present it might have taken some time for everyone to remember that they were all supposed to be on the same team.


    According to those four, the group was made up fighters, soldiers for hire. Warriors trained to deal with the strange and the magical.


    Dennis also knew that they were on the same team, but he hadn¡¯t known much else. In fact it was Esteban who reminded him that his name was Esteban.


    Esteban said he was the leader of their group, but Dennis seemed to disagree with this. Dennis also seemed to think that something was wrong and that their group was heading in the wrong the direction. Climbing down, when they were supposed to be climbing up.


    Unsure of what to believe, the confused group seemed to be following majority rules, quietly ignoring the fact that most of them were still too out of sorts to have made any kind of informed decision.


    *****


    For his part, Clancy didn¡¯t really trust either Esteban or Dennis...The objective part of Clancy that was always alert and watching for¡­.reasons...and the little voice in his head, both agreed that Clancy was a somewhat paranoid person. Whose first reaction to new people, places and scenarios, was the creation of long line of models and threat analyses.


    Clancy and the objective part of him that was always watching him, worried that this was a sign that whoever he was before, he might well have been a bad person.


    Since he could recall either hearing or reading from somewhere, that it was the worst sorts of people who expected the worst of others. Mostly because they spent their time doing the worst to others and knew how it was done.


    The one¡¯s who feared monsters most were often monsters themselves...or something like that.


    The small voice in his head, chided him, telling him that he was being silly. Telling him he was mistaken. Whatever else Clancy was, he wasn¡¯t a monster. He might not have been a Saint, but he was no villain either.


    He was just someone who¡¯d been trained since he was very young to be always, always on notice. Having lived a life of hard lessons.


    Which made Clancy wonder what kind of Hard lessons. A question that made the voice in his head go quiet, its tone more somber. Eventually, it, she, just told him, he¡¯d remember soon enough.


    ¡°Recovery at 45%. Entering Second Stage of Restoration.¡±


    *****


    As they marched onwards, making their way down into the depths of the tower they were occasionally met by men in armor, some of them made of flesh, some of them made of stone. All them huge and hulking, not very happy to see the little group of amnesiacs.


    It was odd, but highly convenient, to find that the combat skills were what came first. With a most of their number recalling which direction to point their firearms and auto-staves before they remember any meaningful details about their own lives.


    It didn¡¯t always save them, since there also traps and pitfalls to look out for, but it was enough to keep them from being over-run.


    In Clancy¡¯s case he wouldn¡¯t start recalling who he was and what he¡¯d been doing in the tower till they were on the tenth highly guarded sub-basement and he was busy using his enchanted cricket bat to turn one ten-foot tall man of marble, into many ten-millimeter high pieces.


    He¡¯d be hacking at the creature¡¯s knees when it occurred to him that this wasn¡¯t what he¡¯d signed up for. Then he¡¯d recall that he¡¯d signed up at all and this wasn¡¯t something that he¡¯d had to do.


    He¡¯d recall that the reason he was in the tower was because the shifty-eyed guy, Dennis, had asked him to come.


    He¡¯d recall that the voice in his head was his girlfriend, Anne, speaking to him through their empathetic link. Slowly feeding him his memories from the backup that was stored on the shared portion of their minds.


    Then he¡¯d be knocked on his rear by another of the stone men he was supposed to be fighting because remembering a whole bunch of things, and going on trips down memory lane, mid-battle, was pretty inadvisable. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Dennis would save him, using his rifle-like auto-stave to insta-cast a dozen force spells, that would knock back the stone guardsman, while Dennis helped Clancy pick himself off the floor.


    ¡°Thanks!...¡± said Clancy. Shouting over the din.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it!¡± shouted Dennis.


    ¡°You know...I thought you said, this was supposed to be an easy gig.¡± said Clancy.


    ¡°I did?¡± said Dennis blinking. Frowning. Scrunching up his face in concentration as he tried to remember.


    Clancy frowned as well as he considered the other man¡¯s question.


    ¡°I think so?¡±


    Dennis sighed, rubbing a knot on the back of his head.


    ¡°Well...I¡¯m sorry about that, bud. I don¡¯t know what went wrong, but I do know that things weren¡¯t supposed to go this way.¡±


    ¡°Recovery at 75%.¡±


    *****


    After hours of slogging through the tower depths and enough encounters with the incensed security personnel to make most of their group start suspecting that ¡°they¡± weren¡¯t good guys in this story, they finally reached the bottom floors of the tower.


    The second to last floor was guarded by a beast of stone, bigger than all the others and armed with some manner of breath cannon. The blue beams that poured from its mouth scorching the tile floors and stone walls of the hall it was guarding.


    Two members of the team failed to leave that floor alive. One of them, a woman by the name of the Marina, was bitten in two by the creature. She shrieked frantically as the creature caught her. Her shrill cries enough to pour ice-water on even the hardiest man¡¯s nerves.


    Her blood splashed down on her the horrified faces of her nearest teammates. What remained of her body was perforated by their bullets, and spells as they panicked and frantically tried to fall back.


    The other Maxwell died as well, the stone guardian¡¯s beam cannon blowing a hole through his torso. Easily smashing through the haphazard shielding spell the man had thrown up in front of himself, and reducing what was left into a charred husk.


    Clancy took man¡¯s death the hardest. Despite being sure, that his own name was Clancy and not Maxwell, suddenly losing the other Maxwell, made Clancy feel uncertain about a whole bunch of things.


    Questioning his memories because he could swear that at least at some point in time he had been a Maxwell,


    A paternalistic voice, sly and serpentine, smoothe like well aged brandy, echoing in his ears. Filling his head with snatches of half recalled conversations.


    ¡°Very good, Maxwell. You¡¯ve done your father proud. Come on now, I¡¯ll call someone to come and clean this little mess up.¡±


    ¡°Maxwell, Maxwell, Maxwell...are you telling me you still don¡¯t understand? There¡¯s so much expected of you...So much rides on your young shoulders.¡±


    ¡°Dammit, Maxwell, stop your blubbering...I didn¡¯t raise you to be this weak!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t die Maxwell. Come back to me stronger and greater than you already are, my son.¡±


    ¡°Maxwell my boy...You father¡¯s going to make you into a god!¡±


    Clancy wasn¡¯t sure, but he had a worrying feeling that the death of the other Maxwell meant that he¡¯d have to take on the name in the man¡¯s place. He didn¡¯t want that, He definitely didn¡¯t want that. The memories that he bore in his head, suggested that life as a Maxwell was less than pleasant.


    ¡°Recovery at 85%. Entering Third Stage of Restoration.¡±


    ******


    They made it to the final floor, and on this floor there were no guards, no guardian beasts. Nothing. Beyond the doorway at the foot of that final flight of steps, there was nothing.


    There was only void, vaguely pastel colored, and smelling of a mixture baby powder and hospital antiseptic.


    This was what met the group, once they finally reached the very bottom of the tower.


    For the first time, since they¡¯d all lost their memories, it wasn¡¯t Esteban who took the lead. Vivi lead the group through the pale pink doorway into a pale-pink.


    A room wider and bigger than the entire tower had been, seeming to be a world onto itself. A world within a world, within a world.


    At the center of the room was a youth in a hospital bed. Looking to be somewhere between thirteen and twenty. His sallow face, neotenous to the point of looking almost infant-like.


    The youth was hooked up to a machine and the machine was hooked up to a wall outlet, like that one would expect to see in any home or public building.


    The wall outlet was surrounded by a circle. A warded circle. One of three that surrounded the man, and the machine and of course, the wall outlet. With fourth, greater circle surrounding all the three smaller ones and fifth circle standing apart.


    ¡°What is this?¡± said Dennis. Asking the question that everyone else in the room wanted to ask.


    ¡°This is the dreamer.¡± said Vivi. Her voice sounding breathless, filled with a rapt and holy reverence.


    Dennis held the side of his head, grimacing, growling beneath his breath at the sharp pain that was slowly making its way through the back of his head.


    ¡°No that¡¯s not what I¡¯m asking. I know who that guy is supposed to be...What I¡¯m asking is what the hell we¡¯re doing here.¡±


    The rest of the group, began to grimace and groan as well. One of the team members collapsed, falling to his knees.


    ¡°Recovery at 100%. Restoration Complete¡­.Knock ¡®em dead, hon. Literally if necessary.¡±


    Clancy blinked as everything that he was, everything that had been left to question and everything that he¡¯d unsure about, fell back into place. A line of red ran down from a flared nostril.


    First, he was a bit stunned, then he was furious.


    ¡°Dennis¡­Explain this for me, please.¡±


    Dennis didn¡¯t look much happier, his auto-stave up and ready, while he helped the surviving members of his team to their feet.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know man, I think you¡¯re gonna have to ask our boy Esteban here.¡± said Dennis.


    Esteban was standing in the third circle with a wide-eyed anguished looking Nicole standing behind him. The woman muttering very rapidly beneath her breath as strings of magical ink built upon and around the warded circle at her feet.


    ¡°Esteban, what is this shit?!¡± barked Dennis.


    Esteban, smiled looking sheepish as he turned machine rifle towards where Dennis and the rest stood.


    ¡°Sorry friend, this is just good business and a conflict of interest.¡±


    ¡°You son of a bitch...you¡¯re turning coat?!¡±


    ¡°Come on man, don¡¯t look at this like its a doublecross, just think of it, as my getting a higher bidder and jumping on the opportunity to climb a little higher up in the world.¡± said Esteban. Smirking.


    ¡°The hell he just say?¡± said another member of team, who stood at Dennis¡¯ side.


    Clancy put two and two together as he saw Vivi stalking towards the youth in the bed with some kind of ceremonial knife in her hands.


    He stood with bat in his hand, preparing to lunge forwards when he suddenly heard the bark of the machine rifle.


    Clancy was knocked off his feet before he could even move. The concussive spell on the machine pistols bullets walloping him like each round was a cannon ball. Tearing through his outer-armor but thankfully not doing too much harm to his inner-armor and the flesh below.


    Esteban¡¯s firing his weapon, lead to Dennis firing theirs. Most the bullets and spells bouncing off of Nicole¡¯s addition to warded circle.


    ¡°Nicole why the hell are you doing?!¡± said one Dennis¡¯s people, shouting in frustration as she called up a spell to create some cover for their side to hide behind in the empty, pale-pink, room.


    ¡°I-...I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry. This was the only way.¡±


    ¡°The only way for what?¡± snapped Dennis. Taking a knee and firing spell after spell from his auto-stave. A cascade of fire, force and ice smashing into Nicole¡¯s shield.


    The other member of the team, a woman named Amalia, answered, her expression pained. Full of a mottled mixture of anger, regret and pity.


    ¡°Nicole¡¯s almost to the end of the circle ranks, chief.¡± said Amalia.


    Dennis swore beneath his breath understanding.


    On his end of thing, Clancy quickly climbed back onto his feet. Throwing his bat at the woman before she could reach the youth in the bed.


    Esteban swore firing at the flying bat and then firing at the one who threw it, as he watched the woman go down.


    Her body spinning as she fell, red blood spurting from the stump, as her severed arm dropped to the floor. Disappearing fading into pale-pink nothing.


    ¡°The world will end if the Dreamer wakes¡­Thus the Dreamer must die. The Dreamer must die!¡± cried Vivi. Her eyes wide and wild.


    Esteban jumped out from behind his shield of wards, snatching the sacrificial knife from the dying woman on the floor.


    The group turned towards him, firing as he ran. Nicole threw up a wall of force that intercepted their fire.


    ¡°What the fuck Nicole?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way!¡±


    ¡°Your only way out, means fucking over your friends?! Fuck you, Nicole!¡± bellowed another member of the team.


    ¡°The world ends when the Dreamer wakes. A new world is born when the dreamer dies...the dreamer must-...¡±


    Vivi¡¯s words were cut short as she bled out and passed into unconsciousness.


    Clancy slammed into Esteban before the man could drive the sacrificial knife into the dreaming youth¡¯s chest.


    Nicole cast a spell that sent a barrage of ice-arrows flying towards the hospital bed. Clancy rolled over with the man in his arms. Taking several frozen blue-spikes to the back, protecting Esteban because he knew the foundation would need somebody to blame for the fiasco that just took place.


    The first of the spikes touched the space above the hospital bed. Nicole cried out, her spell backlashing, the ice-arrows turning into white mist while the desperate young witch was turned into pink mist.


    ¡°Nicole!?¡± sobbed Amalia. Falling to her knees, eyes red, tears running down her cheeks.


    *****


    If the Job had been merely messy, the clean-up that came afterwards was a complete fiasco. Another foundation team had to be called in, while the barricaded themselves, on the bottom floor of the dreamer¡¯s tower.


    With foundation personnel being called in to mediate for the group and the locals.


    Put simply, if it weren¡¯t for the fact that with the exception of those individuals that managed to escape from such dream-worlds and integrate with reality, beings from dream or ¡°imaginary¡± realms weren¡¯t counted as real people, the whole team would have likely ended up going to jail.


    Or the very least they¡¯d have been tied up in a lengthy court case, where the state and the foundation would have to unravel exactly how much fault the magically addled crew of mages, held.


    After all there was a very well-exploited, legal precedent that more or less, vindicated defendants who could be proven to have been under magical influence during their crimes.


    Instead all the innocent guards and creatures they¡¯d killed were discounted as figments of the sleeping boy¡¯s imagination. And with the lack of ¡°actual¡± victims, all the surviving members of the team were allowed to go home.


    With the exceptions being Dennis who had a lengthy accounting to give and Esteban who was black bagged by foundation agents and carried off to face charges for his involvement in the deaths of his legally ¡°real¡± team members. As well an additional charge of attempted murder and treason against the UN Council.


    Later Clancy would be standing at the Monochrome gate on the edge of the city for the second time that day. His head still pounding from having everything inside it, erased and then re-written. He got phone call and saw that it was from Dennis.


    ¡°Sorry about that, man.¡± said Dennis. Sounding tired, the strain palpable on his end of the call.


    ¡°Huh? Sorry about what?¡± said Clancy.


    ¡°This whole fiasco...this whole fucking mess. This was supposed to be my way of showing you how great it is to work in teams and instead¡­¡±


    ¡°Dude, is that really why you¡¯re calling? Shit happens, man. Don¡¯t worry about it. More like, are you gonna be okay on your end?¡± said Clancy.


    He¡¯d gotten a briefing of what had gone down from both the team, from Dennis and from the Foundation staff.


    The original plan had been to climb to the top of the tower of the dreamer, there were some wards at the top of the tower that needed to be touched up to ensure the stability of the dream.


    There were also some measurements that the foundation had wanted their group to take, since dreamlike worlds like the one they¡¯d been in were a special interest for the foundation.


    Monochrome Worlds that were formed by the unconscious mind, of powerful comatose casters, were something that Foundation and the various world powers that the foundation worked for, were interested in looking into.


    Besides the economic ramifications, there was also the possibility of using such worlds as evacuation destinations, in the case of any number of end of the world, end of the home reality, scenarios.


    Apparently Esteban, Vivi and Nicole¡¯s entry into the tower of the dream had triggered a sort of defense mechanism. It would have put them all out of the commission till the guards could escort them out and lock them out of the tower.


    Esteban, Nicole and Vivi had been prepared, shielding their minds beforehand, which allowed them to take charge of their addled teammates.


    After some rigorous questioning, it was revealed that Esteban was being paid by a certain vested interest to help Vivi and her group of ¡°Awakeners¡± kill the dreamer. Part of a ploy to gather certain rare materials were generated when a bubble of anomalous space like the dream-like world was destroyed.


    Nicole was pulled into their schemes because her pending graduation from the circle stage of caster rankings, meant that her caster¡¯s demon, or anathema would soon be coming for her. Its power have risen to a level where it would be to find her even if she stayed in the real world.


    The destruction of an entire was one of the few scenarios in which a caster¡¯s anathema could be killed by something other than the caster themselves.


    With the erasure of the world beyond the warded circles leading to the erasure of the demon along with everything else that lay beyond the aforementioned circles.


    ¡°Huh? Oh, right. Nah, they got finished with me, like two hours ago, I¡¯m just driving home now. Gonna make a few very sad phone calls, make some work arrangements. Then I¡¯m going to drink, some extremely hard liquor, crawl into bed and pretend this shit didn¡¯t happen, at least till I have to wake up and face it all in the morning.¡±


    ¡°That sounds rough, man. This shit is just¡­.You know, One of those things...Shit. Assholes happen...Life happens. Your friend Nicole was just scared¡­ I-...I don¡¯t know what to say, man. Nothing will change the fact that this whole situation sucks and we all nearly got played by that asshat Esteban. If it makes you feel better the elapsed time it took for everything to go down, was short enough that I¡¯m seriously thinking about either joining a team, or starting one of my own.¡± said Clancy.


    There was a sigh from the other end of the line. Then for a while there was nothing. Clancy was almost about to shut off his phone thinking he might have been hung up on, when the other man finally spoke again.


    ¡°....Do you really mean it, if I somehow don¡¯t get shit canned, you might join my team?¡± said Dennis. Somehow managing to make the smile he was wearing audible.


    ¡°Oi, who said anything about joining ¡®your¡¯ team? I also said I might start one of my own.¡± snapped Clancy. Slightly annoyed by his friend¡¯s quick swinging mood.


    ¡°Hmm? That might be good too, man. With half the team, dead or injured, and the other half thinking about taking a break because this was a fuckin¡¯ close call and all our heads have been messed with, I¡¯m pretty sure the Greenglade Company¡¯s gonna drop my ass like it¡¯s on fire...Talk to you later man.¡± said Dennis.


    The other man hung up and Clancy was left staring at his phone wondering if he might not have inadvertently committed to something he didn¡¯t want to commit to.


    Just as Clancy was going to start fuming over the issue his turn to use the gate came up.


    Clancy had been right to play it safe, with the last job having ending successfully, he¡¯d need to do a little more work to make sure that his and Anne¡¯s checkbooks stayed in the black for this month.

 6: Better Halves

    Anne Ambrose, slipped out of bed, the bed that her boyfriend thought of as his, but she thought of as theirs since her¡¯s was always covered in snack crumbs, and scrunched scrap paper from when she was working. Because she ate when she worked, and she often worked in bed despite the office they¡¯d purposefully set aside to operate her at home business in.


    Which often got her nagged at. With each and every such argument usually just ending with Clancy walking off grumbling to himself, and then coming back later to quietly redo whatever attempts Anne had made, at cleaning up her room.


    She picked up her panties when she came across them on the floor. Slipping them into her pocket rather than just slipping them on again, because she figured she¡¯d just be taking them off again, if her boyfriend woke up in the next five to ten minutes, or when she got into the shower in the next fifteen.


    As it would turn out Clancy wouldn¡¯t wake up in either five minutes or ten minutes. It would seem that after they¡¯d had enough sex to get his M-particle levels up past the critical state they¡¯d been in, his body had pretty much just crashed.


    Which annoyed Anne to no end. Not because of the sex, of course, since honestly she wasn¡¯t ¡°that¡± into it.


    Of course, she wasn¡¯t ¡°not¡± into their racy bedtime fun ether, but the simple fact was that no one got into sex like Lust-types got into sex. And Clancy was pretty much head and shoulders, a prime example of this trait.


    Had he not been so dead tired, and beat up, the two of them would probably still have been carrying on.


    What annoyed Anne was the reason behind why they¡¯d ended up stopping. The fact that he¡¯d let himself get so exhausted and beat up annoyed her.


    She knew it was perhaps just the littlest bit unreasonable to think it, but in Anne¡¯s head there was a part of her that felt that the only one allowed to half-kill her boyfriend was her.


    Clancy had come back home, at around eleven in the evening, covered in a blood and leaves and grass. Stinking of gunsmoke and magefire.


    The way he told it, he¡¯d tried to do two jobs in one work week. Which in her opinion was pretty not-smart considered that his usual one job per every two week was already pushing things.


    Supposedly the first job had just been a brisk one, involving him helping a friend redo some warding for one of the Foundation priority realms. She didn¡¯t know why he¡¯d tried downplaying how bad ¡°that¡± went, considering he already knew that a part of her had been in his head, witnessing everything.


    Then when the pay for that went south, disappearing after the job went sideways he¡¯d gone and taken a job, to collect magical mushrooms in one of the Monochrome least hospitable haunted forests.


    Even if the actual jobs only took an average of one to three days, the amount preparatory work and recovery required from both of them, to keep him alive and safe, pretty much kept the limit set in stone.


    Of course, with most of their money being consumed by bills, taxes, their mortgage, the various purchases for them to proceed as mages, and those purchases needed for them to continue living their lives normally and safely...it was a given that the guy would try to ¡°cheat¡± sometimes.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Doing just extra so that between the two of them they could live their lives in a reasonably comfortable manner instead of just paycheck to paycheck.


    Either taking on jobs that were just a little out of his league, or doing as he¡¯d done this week and taking on more than he could handle in one sitting.


    The former was bad enough, adding additional risk, to a job whose hazards were so dire, that Anne generally had to do her best not to think of how anxious it made her.


    Since all attempts to look for an alternative source of work that paid even half as well as what he was currently doing, had come up empty. And having either of them, not work at all, was simply just not an option.


    The latter, taking on two or more tasks at once, was worse, because it meant that after the first job was finished all the spells, potions, protections and blessings, she set on the man, were usually exhausted.


    Which meant that he was working with no safety net. Walking the highwire with nothing to catch him. Which was just unacceptable because he too, would be exhausted. More likely to make mistakes. More likely to let someone or something get the drop on him. Like today, when a pair of wood-barghests managed to tear one of his arms off.


    While he¡¯d definitely grow the limb back by the end of the week, that he¡¯d lost it at all, was enough to tell Anne about how close he¡¯d been to losing his life.


    Thus her annoyance with the man. Doing too much, risking too much, as if he didn¡¯t know that it was all for naught if they didn¡¯t both survive to see whatever ¡°transcendence¡± or whatever the hell their goal actually was, looked like.


    Since Clancy didn¡¯t wake up for a third round of lustful activity, Anne ended up just showering. After a hot shower she got herself a cold beer. After the beer, she headed to her room because her office was one of the few places where she didn¡¯t feel comfortable making a mess.


    Ironically she and Clancy¡¯s efforts to make the place look professional, had ended up making it, nigh-unusable for her. Creating a sort of hallowed ground within the house, that no one entered, except on very special occasions. Like tax season, or during the few times Anne had to dress up for work, instead of just hanging around in one of her overlong novelty sweatshirts, sometimes neglecting to put on pants, as was her norm.


    She sat at the little table by her bed, while an old school anime played on her tv.


    She opened up her two main laptops, and after everything had finished loading, she saved and closed all the files and programs that were still up from her last sessions with them, just a few hours ago. Before Clancy came home.


    Most of the files would be like half finished thoughts, their meaning forgotten, their importance lost. A few she¡¯d come back to and those would be the one¡¯s that actually became products. Being sold online for a fairly decent amount or being handed off to whoever ordered them.


    Despite being a shut in, Anne Ambrose was a woman of business. A moderately well-known entrepreneur in the magical world.


    She did spells, wards and curses. She made custom artifacts, armors and potions. She gave consultations for grimoires and monochrome lore.


    She had a Mu-tube channel that had a fairly decent following which she used to advertise her services and skills. The small amount of ad revenue it generated also helping with her expenses.


    Though she¡¯d originally started off working on her own, she now had a small team that handled a lot of the video editing, pr and sales. Exploiting a niche that focused on practical uses of magic and nerd culture, she had developed a fairly decent following.


    Her products and the skills were showcased in entertaining and educative videos.


    Videos that were occasionally pulled down for giving the sort of dangerous information that might get one put on a watch list. Video that had helped build her a reputation.


    One good enough that there were governmental bodies and private corporations that often gave job offers that she couldn¡¯t take due to her condition and lifestyles, and contract work that she did take, because it paid well.


    As the proud owner of no less than twelve, impressive, if ultimately minor, patents for magical innovation, despite more or less being a shut-in, Anne¡¯s interactions with outside world were both frequent and lucrative.


    Yet it was still not enough, the money she made from her business was still not enough to support the cultivation of the pair. Or adequately pay for their unique needs.


    Which meant, working even harder and progressing forwards, using all she saw and learned to break new ground.


    Which meant more expenses because progressing as an artificer, spellscribe and alchemist wasn¡¯t exactly cheap either.


    And yet despite the all difficulty and the occasionally month where it sometimes felt that they weren¡¯t going to make it, they somehow always did. Growing a little stronger in both a literal and fiscal sense with each passing day.


    *****


    Anne gazed at the design software that was loaded up on both laptops screens. On the left screen was a graphical suite that she used for designing artifacts. On the right screen was an integrated development environment she used for drafting and testing magical code for future enchantments.


    Initially Anne had thought she¡¯d probably just end up spending today wrapping up a project that a client commissioned her to do.


    Now, however, after seeing Clancy come home all beat up, she felt a need to work out her anxieties by doing what she always did. Making more gear to keep the worrisome man from getting himself killed.

 7: An Interrupted Evening

    Clancy was in the living room lazing around because today was one of his rare days off when he wasn¡¯t on the job either heading into or out of the monochrome or prepping for another task for the foundation.


    Naturally Anne was there too, of course she was, with her hikikomori tendencies, where else would she be.


    She was working, clacking at the keys of the laptop that sat in front of her. As often happened when both of them were in the house, they¡¯d somehow ended up in the same room.


    So she was in the living room too.


    The day had been one of those days where it felt like it was going to rain. An unnatural humid day, hot and sticky. Where the air was filled with this sort of pressure that built and built, but never made good on the threat.


    It was the kind of day that the two of them hated the most, the kind of day that was quite common, in a certain hellish monochrome world that they¡¯d once been cast into as part of Clancy¡¯s father¡¯s endeavor to make something that was more than human.


    On days like these their tendency to gravitate towards one another would grow even more severe. Severe enough, that at the moment, the two of them were not only sitting in the same room, but were in fact sitting atop one another.


    Not so much sharing the couch that they were sitting on, as they were quietly fighting over it. Slowly invading each other¡¯s space till finally Anne sat sideways with her laptop balanced over her knees and her legs slung over Clancy¡¯s lap and Clancy was just sort leaning into her shoulder. Using her slightly bony frame to keep himself upright.


    It was uncomfortable, but the kind of okay uncomfortable that holds it own unique sort of acceptability. Like when one is tired and is sitting on something with sharp angles but still can¡¯t be bothered to get up. Laziness and an understanding that in time whatever might be lying beneath one¡¯s posterior will soon be pushed within the cushions, leading to one¡¯s just putting up with the situation.


    Till eventually you¡¯re just sort of used to it.


    Despite being quite literally on top of one another the two barely seemed to acknowledge each other¡¯s presence.


    Anne continued with her work, snacking on candy sticks because she was one of those who adhered to the idea of sugar as a brain food.


    Clancy just dozed not really paying any mind to the stoner comedy on the screen. Trying not to think about all the pre-mission prep-work he could be doing if he could be arsed to get up from where he was doing.


    Trying not to worry about whether or not he and Anne would be able to squeak by one this month¡¯s expenses with what they already had in their account, or they¡¯d end up having to play catch up during the following week.


    Trying not to think about a lot of things because sometimes it was just nice not to have to think about things.


    At some point he fell asleep. His eyelids growing heavier and heavier. The nonsensical plot of the movie becoming increasingly unimportant.


    For a brief moment he slipped into unconsciousness, then¡­. something... tugged on his mind and he slipped past that into a realm of nightmares and noise and fire.


    Sleep, became something else entirely as reality was skewed into the very worst version of itself.


    For roughly five minutes it felt like was falling through a dark space. The kind of dark where your eyes started making up colors and things to see because human brains just weren¡¯t programmed to have such an utter lack of stimulation.


    The kind of dark where he could feel things moving just out of sight. The oppressive black nothingness, washing over him, like it was water in a pool and something big had just dived in.


    People might say that they¡¯ve been through hell, and thanks to the Monochrome, there was a one in one thousand chance that this was meant literally.


    There were roughly 36,203 known ¡°hell dimensions¡±, dreadful, inhospitable worlds, that as far as their few surviving explorers could report, seemed to have been born from the very worst possibilities for existence and being in the universe.


    As a counterpart there were only 12 known ¡°heaven dimensions¡±, or paradisios, worlds that there seemed to be perfect, made from the very best possibilities for existence and being in the universe.


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    Naturally all but one of the heaven dimension were all but impossible to get into, while all the hells were almost went out of their way to trap new denizens. Some of the hells could be entered by just knowing too much about them.


    Since both the heavens and the hells were both bizarre, mystery places with grand and old magics, and since it was easier to enter hell then heaven, it was just a matter of course for Clancy¡¯s old man to make sure his kids visit at least a few of them, for the sake seeing if they could help them on their path to godhood, even if it happened to be a ¡°dark¡± godhood.


    The same nonsensical reasoning that was likely involved in the man¡¯s earlier attempts to toughen his young son by habitually abandoning him in some of the worst environs and wretched hives.


    Such endeavours usually resulting in his having to rescue and then fix and then partially mind wipe, the broken remains of his son.


    A practice started from the time he was five and lasted till the time he was nine. Ending shortly before Anne came into the picture because perverse as it was the man got what he wanted, a boy that was all sharp corners, and ¡°tough¡± enough not to die or fall prey, if you left him in some of the worst places one could abandon a child.


    The point being that Clancy Ambrose was a man who knew what hell looked like, in both its literal and figurative forms.


    He knew the exact moment that his dreams stopped being dreams, and became something else entirely.


    And he knew when that something else transitioned, to a less fantastical sort of terribleness.


    Riding it all out like someone who¡¯d ended up sitting in the one strapless seat on a rollercoaster, hanging on for dear life.


    Clancy awoke, feeling a panic on the outer edge of his mind. He could sense his sudden exit from the monochrome just as he¡¯d sensed his sudden entrance into the monochrome.


    Not knowing what to do, but sensing that following his first instinct might well lead to tragedy, especially in the case, that he was really still back in his home, next to Anne, he did nothing.


    Literally freezing in place. Not even daring to breathe.


    He counted to ten and only when he was sure that he was still under his own control, did he open his eyes to try and properly assess his situation.


    *****


    Clancy found himself in a 10 by 10 space. he figured it was some kind attic or garage, based on the mustiness of the surroundings and the general freshness of the air flowing through it.


    The only light came from some half-melted candles that were arranged around him in a circle on the floor.


    Each candle sat on a point of a star that was drawn in a circle the ground, a circle that Clancy was standing. A pentagram and ward of containment.


    There was girl standing in the corner of the room, holding a book and candle, gazing at Clancy with guilty, frightened eyes.


    She was chanting, never stopping, her words crisp sounding like clashing knives.


    It took him a second but Clancy eventually recognized what it was she was chanting, even if he hadn¡¯t heard his father chant similar words countless times, even if he hadn¡¯t heard others use similar incantation...he still had a certain ¡°friend¡¯s¡± store of knowledge to draw upon.


    A lavish gift given to him and Anne by an auspicious friend that he¡¯d met on very inauspicious day. The one other person beside Anne and himself, responsible for the Clancy''s current mostly healthy mental state.


    The girl was speaking in a doggerel mixture basic Infernal and classical Akkadian. A tongue that was called by most, as Heretic¡¯s Cant. The language for Demon Summoners and diabolist rituals.


    At first Clancy had a hard time putting together what was happened and what had happened, then as her chanting continued, he felt something, a faint something. Like nails tapping against reinforced glass.


    In Clancy¡¯s case it was meter-thick reinforced glass, covered by miles of plate and concrete, a fortress of a mind.


    One created by his father¡¯s clumsy experimentation and the assistance of Clancy¡¯s aforementioned friend.


    Clancy was slowly realizing that the tapping that he was hearing was actually the sound of a magical compliance command trying and failing to encapsulate his mind.


    Someone was trying to take control of him. Trying to put chains around his mind so they could make him do their bidding.


    Outraged, Clancy surged forwards, walking through a wall of dark mojo, ozone and incense. He grunted, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out. His eyes watering from the pain that came almost instantly. Which led to a numb sense of almost instantaneous regret.


    Looking down at himself, and the amount blood that he was losing and looking up to see that he¡¯d somehow managed to instantly cross the room, and get his hands around the girl¡¯s neck, he realized that he was probably not as calm right now, as he¡¯d wanted to be.


    If he had been calmer, he would have cast a counterspell to break the containment ward he¡¯d been standing in, instead of just walking through it and letting the backlash peel half the flesh of his torso away. Removing most of the skin of his upper body and arms, leaving a good portion of his ribcage and the connective that held his insides ¡°inside¡±, exposed to the open air.


    As for grabbing the girl by the neck, that might have gone either way. This wasn¡¯t the first time, Clancy had found himself being randomly summoned.


    He was an existence that was more than a little ¡°demonic¡± in nature. A demon that was technically free from its ¡°master¡±. Thus his name or some otherworldly variation of it, would occasionally pop up in books of eldritch creatures and diabolic rituals.


    The same went for Anne, but their linked nature, and Clancy¡¯s tendency to take on the more troublesome parts of their state whenever possible, meant that it was a Mister and Missus thing.


    Summoning her, meant he¡¯d show up instead.


    In any case, it was always a right inconvenience when such things happened especially when it was to other worlds, or alternate realities within the monochrome.


    And like most actually demons or anyone else who suddenly found themselves, uprooted from their homes and daily routines and brought down into someone¡¯s creepy basement for errands, Clancy tended to get ornery once summoned.


    As always the first instincts were homicidal ones but Clancy knew not to listen to those. It was actually quite easy since they seemed to come with the same force and insistence as Clancy¡¯s endless desire for sex.


    The same self-discipline that let him go through life without trying to hump everything that moved, also keeping him killing everything that looked at him funny.


    Not minding that his summoner seemed to be turning blue, her feet flailing, kicking out ineffectually, as he kept her pinned to the wall, Clancy calmed himself a second time. Making sure to do a proper job of it this time.


    A breath went in, a breath went out, and in the meantime Clancy¡¯s flesh began to crawl, blood and tissue oozing back up over his torso. Covering the parts where his bones were exposed and sewing him back together.


    ¡°.....¡±


    Clancy dropped the girl letting her stand on her own feet again, before she dropped to all fours, unable to stay upright.


    ¡°*Gasp*!¡±


    She gasped and coughed. Choking as she tried to draw as much air into her oxygen starved lungs as was humanly possible. Clancy watched her, glaring. While he quietly cast several spells to break up the remainder of her ritual, and wipe away the otherworldly air within the small room lest some other entity pop up and crawl through the hole the girl¡¯s spell had made in the fabric of reality.


    ¡°Okay¡­.First off¡­.Who are you?¡±

 8: Her Extenuating Circumstance

    ¡°Okay...First Off...Who are You?¡± said the demon with a voice like dulcet thunder. Its words issuing out and filling the room, with a soft, slightly musical rumble.


    Lucinda Mercer, was down on all fours, her eyes at the same level as the tip of the creature¡¯s slow swaying fifth appendage.


    Her eyes ran, tears spilling over her freckled cheeks, she couldn¡¯t tell if that was just her eyes watering from all the pungent incense from the candles and the lack of oxygen in her lungs, or whether she was actually crying a bit. Lamenting the terrible turn her evening had taken.


    Her neck still hurt from when she¡¯d been pinned to the wall, and she was still struggling to draw a full breath, but she forced herself to calm down and slowly stand. Taking care to try and look as dignified and in command as her elder sister would probably look right now, if she were in the same position.


    Assuming that by the some unbelievable turn of events the great Isabella Mercer had tried to summon a being that was far out of her league resulting in the being escaping ¡°her¡± control. Which would never happen in reality, because her aforementioned ¡°perfect¡± elder sister, would have known better.


    Still Lucy did her best to do a good impression of her big sis Izzy. Believing that looking scared and remaining at cock-level with the infernal monster from beyond the veil might lead to things heading down an even worse direction than they already seemed to be going.


    ¡°Well?....¡± said the demon. A spiked limb tapping the ground impatiently before becoming a normal foot. Its glowing red eyes unblinking.


    The radiant red and black horns, that swept towards the back of its head before zig-zagging forwards like a jagged crown, flared brightly before crumbling into ash.


    Its flesh, that had been seared away and torn apart, as it crashed through Lucy¡¯s containment ward, crawled and oozed and pulsated as it knit itself together. Settling down, whole. A perfect, uniform, creamy brown.


    Its form muscular and hulking, yet pleasing to the eye, seeming to loom over the 5,10¡¯¡¯ young lady by a good 12 inches or more.


    ¡°I¡¯m waiting¡­¡± said the demon. Its strikingly handsome face, seeming to gather. Its brow bunching up in a look of perturbation and annoyance that Lucy could recognize from having seen it worn by her teachers, her bosses, her parents who were long dead, her Uncle and Aunt who were recently dead and her Sister who was very much alive.


    ¡°....Explain yourself!¡± commanded the demon.


    Startled, and figuratively, maybe literally, piss-yourself-scared, Lucinda Mercer, 17 years old, began to explain the fleeting hope that she might escape with her little life intact.


    *****


    The beginning of her tale started from two days hence, technically it started several generations ago with the first of the Mercer line, but the direct explanation that the demon was demanding was from two days ago.


    *****


    The Mercers were a Family of Mages, one of those that had been around even before the truth of black and white realms was revealed to the world at large.


    At the very height of their power they¡¯d held a strong sway, in Hungary and Belarus, and even managed to keep more than a few of the officials of the USSR in their pockets.


    Then their power began to wane, and they were pushed out leading to their immigration to the US.


    Like most Wizarding families whose powers had begun to fade, the Mercer¡¯s were cursed, the number of those who were claimed by this curse, rising as the potency of the families magic fell.


    It was this same curse that led to the death of Lucy parents. It was this curse that claimed the lives of her Uncle and Aunt, Isabella¡¯s parents.


    Only their great Aunt Bellinda and a few other members of the family, who were mainly just branch members connected by marriage , and thus less affected by the curse, remained.


    For Families with hereditary magic, the power either flowed sweet or sour. Sweet magic brought greatness and wealth. Sour magic brought sickness and calamity. The Mercer¡¯s were a clan, where the magic had grown sour.


    Isabella being one of this rare exceptions to this rule, with her magic flowing strong and her progress through the Magi ranks climbing quickly.


    *****


    The Westley School of Sorcery was a moderately prestigious private academy founded in Plymouth the nearest neighbor to Fontaine.


    Many of its students would go on to study at well known magical colleges throughout the country. Others would be picked up by the magical sects and families. And a few extremely lucky ones would be directly cultivated by the Union council or the Foundation. Working their way up the ranks of the most powerful organizations in the world.


    Lucy was a third year student at the school, just a year away from graduating. Two Days Ago, Lucinda Mercer was informed by her assigned counselor, that it was highly likely that she might end up failing for the year, and there was a possibility that if she failed badly enough that she¡¯d end up flunking out of the school entirely. As failed students were ranked, and the lowest ranked failures were dropped from the school¡¯s programs.


    As a scholarship student, whose lowered tuition depended on her grades and her passing each year without fail, the news more than a little alarming.


    As a Mercer, as a sister to the famed Isabella Mercer, the Witch of Winter¡¯s Spring, it was downright terrifying news. Something that just couldn¡¯t be allowed to happen.Stolen story; please report.


    Unfortunately there weren¡¯t many options open for Lucinda. She¡¯d been an A student during the first year when all the lessons were theoretical. A B during the first half of the second year when only a few of the classes involved practical uses of magic, with most of those focusing on alchemy which was pretty just chemistry with just a little magic mixed in...at least for the beginner levels.


    Then from there her grades began to plummet. Lucy wasn¡¯t like her sister. Her magical talents were weak, and no matter how much she studied and how hard she practiced she just wasn¡¯t capable of keeping up with the rest of the students.


    What made it worse was the helplessness, it would have been one thing if she were really as much of a slacker as everyone seemed to think she was, but she was already doing everything that she could. She took all the after school tutoring sessions. Asked all the teachers and teacher¡¯s assistants who could and would help, for help. She spent all her spare hours either in the library or on the internet looking for guides.


    The simple fact was that as a Witch the girl was something of a lost cause. She wasn¡¯t completely lacking in magical ability, yes, but only barely so. She was just rung on the ladder higher than a ¡°sensitive¡± someone who could sense anomalous activity but possessed no anomalous powers. Her cultivation having stalled at the beginning of the Road Stage, ages ago.


    There might have been a chance for her to progress past this point if she were from a wealthier family, there were miraculous medicines and treatments that could force a person¡¯s cultivation up to the peak ranks of the circle stage, but for the Mercers a family in decline those were out of the question.


    Which was what lead to today, where the girl went home with no options and no solution for her problems, and a four week countdown till the rest of the world found out that she really was the lesser Mercer sister. The failure that she and everyone else, always suspected she was. Meaning all she really had was two weeks in which to either maybe figure out a Plan B or figure out where her life.


    She did neither of those things, instead she panicked for a bit and then to stop panicking she started drinking thinking that would maybe calm her down a little.


    Which it did, for a little while, at least till she started thinking again. The wheels of her mind turning coming up with all these terrible ideas.


    Ideas that ranged from just dropping out of school and calling things quit on her own terms, to buying a ticket to the local teleporter station and telling her sister what had happened and letting her yell at her for forever, for failing at life... from half a continent away.


    Finally there came the idea of summoning a demon of great power from the deepest darkest corners of the monochrome, to boost her power and or prove to the school that she did have the skills they needed for her to be able to graduate.


    In its own way more reasonable sounding than all the other ideas. Lucinda was, by common measure, and the measure of the Mercer family, a family that had specialized in summoning, from their very conception...a fairly apt conjurer.


    If the girl pulled this off it would do, all that her alcohol addled mind suggested that it would do. Whether the being somehow made the school acknowledge her as a talent or she made its power into her power by just contracting it, in the end it would still amount to the same thing.


    Allowing her to save herself and make the miraculous come back that she was looking for.


    *****


    ¡°...And what the hell were you going to do if the demon was too strong for you and could...I don¡¯t know...break your compulsion spells and containment wards?¡± chided the demon in mention.


    Lucy blushed, frowning, her tan cheeks reddening. She wanted to say something to defend herself but didn¡¯t dare risposte as she normally would, lest her response piss the creature off.


    Lucinda had been doing good so far, despite telling the truth without hiding any details. She was alive, uneaten and remarkably un-buggered which was far better than she¡¯d expected from all the accounts she¡¯d read of summonings gone wrong, for the particular realms that she¡¯d been trying to call this being from.


    She didn¡¯t want to ruin this state of affairs by saying the wrong thing.


    ¡°You know what...okay...I think I get the picture. You¡¯re stupid, but not malicious which means I won¡¯t kill you and eat your soul.¡±


    ¡°Hoo-..Hooray?!¡± said Lucy. Cautiously happy, but wary of having this announcement turn out to be some cruel trick.


    The demon looked down to its lower body and the thing idly swinging between his legs and then looked up at the girl, who¡¯d been trying unsuccessfully to not look at the thing.


    Blushing furiously each time she inadvertently got an eyeful.


    ¡°Fetch me pants¡­.¡± said the demon. Crossing his arms and assuming a stern look.


    She blinked frowning and then ran off to go fetch the demon some pants. Eventually coming back with a pair of sweats that looked just stretchy enough to fit.


    A quiet part of her wondering why she¡¯d come back, instead of let''s say.. running away or trying to call the authorities, since getting in trouble for irresponsible magic use was still definitely better than getting murdered.


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡± said Demon. Hurriedly putting on the pants.


    She saw that it had found her spell books, watching it leaf through the tome that had held its secret name.


    ¡°Um...that¡¯s¡­my-¡± complained Lucy. Feeling anxious since having someone take hold of your spellbooks was troubling thing, even when they weren¡¯t some terrifying monster from the dark beyond. Good spell tomes were expensive and hard to find, often filled with notes from the last user¡¯s insights.


    ¡°...That¡¯s what?¡± said the Demon. One brow raised.


    A small scared animal noise escaped her as Lucy hurriedly shook her head.


    ¡°....Nevermind.¡±


    The demon ripped several pages from the book and Lucy felt a pang in her chest as she watched a flume of a flame reduce the pages to ash.


    After looking at the girl, he reduced the book to ash and Lucy realized that she was crying a little.


    Then from behind the demon opened a tear in space, a bright white circle that appeared on the empty air.


    Out of this aperture came a woman, with long dark hair, glasses, and a dark hoodie. Looking exceedingly distressed as she ran out and wrapped her arms around the man¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°There you are¡­shit do you know how scared I was?!¡±


    ¡°Sorry, hon¡­¡± said the Demon. Looking sheepish and surprisingly less demon like with the woman at his side.


    Lucy paired behind the two oddly humanoid creatures and saw what seemed to be a workroom that was in complete disarray, one with setup similar to those she¡¯d seen a thousand times.


    ¡°Um...I¡¯m sorry...Was-...Was, this your demon?¡± she said in a small voice.


    The dark haired woman rounded on her, glaring, looking plainly furious.


    ¡°...Does my boyfriend look like a demon to you, you silly twat?!¡±


    Lucy blinked. Taking a proper look at the being that she¡¯d summoned, dark haired, dark skinned, with a chiseled physique. Appealingly human seeming, in a way that might require the term ¡°rugged¡± or ¡°unkempt¡±


    On the one hand she¡¯d definitely been trying to call upon a being from the deepest pits of the Monochrome Abyss...On the other hand what she¡¯d got was something that looked like it¡¯d be at home on the cover of a schlock romance novel.


    ¡°Maybe as a desire demon¡­.ma-maybe?¡± said Lucy. The gears in her head whirring as she gave the question a serious think.


    For some reason this set the strange woman off, she lunged her, a rumbling snarl coming out from within her.


    Lucy shrieked as she jumped back, arms held in front of her in the universal sign language for ¡°oh no, not the face¡±.


    The woman was stopped short, held back by her ¡°boyfriend¡±.


    ¡°Now, now¡­.She¡¯s just a stupid girl not an evil one...See how she¡¯s still breathing after jerking me out of our living room and through a portal to hell... It means I decided to let her live¡­¡±


    ¡°Grr¡­.¡± growled the mad woman, with a demon for a boyfriend. The beginnings of a very nasty looking spell crackling betwixt her fingers.


    Eventually she sniffed, the spell faded and she let the man guide her back into the workroom on the other side of the portal.


    Lucinda collapsed as the portal closed. The realization that she seemed to be being allowed to actually keep her little life, exhausting her. The cold sobriety that came from surviving the past two and half hours of terror making her realize just how badly she¡¯d screwed up and how close she¡¯d been to disaster.


    Then there was a roar, an explosion of the air, as the portal opened up again, this time showing a kitchen.


    The Demon...or maybe not a Demon, stood there in a pair of significantly more flattering pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He stepped through the portal and put something in Lucy¡¯s hand and then tousled her hair a bit.


    ¡°Somehow you¡¯ve managed to enter the range of so dumb its endearing. so¡­.anyway...since I¡¯m ¡°not¡± a demon, luckily for you, very, very luck for you,... I can¡¯t help you with the whole flunking out of school thing...but if you call that number I promise you¡¯ll probably land on your feet.¡±


    Then the demon was gone and Lucy was left in the dark, holding a business card of all things. She pissed herself, her legs seeming to ignore any thoughts of getting up and going to the bathroom.


    ¡°...Tha-...Thanks?!¡± she said. Calling out the into dark. Just in case the...whatever, it...he...was came back and was angered by her lack of manners and came back.


    Afterwards she passed out for a little bit, having gone far enough beyond normal physical, mental and magical exhaustion, that her body deemed it fine for her to fall asleep in the cold garage, sitting in her own piss.

 9: Containment Procedures

    ¡°Woah, what the hell was that?¡± said a red haired man, who sat at the back of nondescript black van. Surrounded by all kinds of electronic equipment, some of it anomalous some of it not. All of it geared towards observation and surveillance.


    He looked at the led display in front of him watching the needle dance, he looked to the screen next to that display and frowned as he saw some more accurate figures that confirmed his concerns.


    ¡°What was what?¡± said the brown haired man, who at the driver¡¯s seat of the van.


    ¡°The M-Particle readings for Observation Site 2771 just jumped past the norm, Reese.¡±


    ¡°So? You know what subject-2771-B does for a living. Is that so strange?¡± said man surnamed Reese.


    ¡°A Jump that¡¯s 25 times the average?¡±


    Reese frowned, looking thoughtful and concerned.


    ¡°Mhm...Should we call it in or should we just try to make contact? What do you think, Chapman?¡±


    Chapman ground his teeth, his expression growing complex, on the hand, this was the kind of thing to call in. On the other hand, his partner was write, Subject-2771-B was trained witch who dabbled in magical experimentation all the time. And there weren¡¯t any rules against it.


    Actually it was more dabbling, she did the work professionally and was well known to those who worked in similar fields as something of a mad scientist and a explorer of the myriad anomalous phenomenons.


    In fact in some cases when she knew that she might do something to set off their sensor, she¡¯d usually call in to warn them.


    Which was why he hesitated to call it in. Instead he called ¡°her¡±. Perhaps, it was a bit unprofessional perhaps it was getting too close to the target but she and they had always had a cordial working relationship, one that could almost be called friendly.


    Friendly to the extent that on days where the whether was too inclement and the state put up parking bans, she would allow them to park inside the site-2771¡¯s driveway and come inside to ¡°observe¡± in the comfort of a heated house.


    *****


    Agents Lemuel Chapman and Emilio Reese were agents of the Prospero Foundation. Actual agents, not just freelancers, Foundation Elites who served directly under the orders of the Prospero Chain of Command and the UN Council.


    The Prospero Foundation purview wasn¡¯t just that of serving as UN Council¡¯s interest and facilitating safe trade of magical wares and services on an international stage.


    They also worked to serve a higher purpose. Securing and containing dangerous anomalous elements that either came from the monochrome were otherwise affected by it. Protecting the world from threats to the public and the possible precipitation of events that could have have apocalyptic consequences.


    It was for this reason that slightly more than a decade and a half ago, the Foundation aided the UN Council in bringing down the Cult of Dantalion.


    That cult wasn¡¯t just a threat to the stability of the world. They were just some mere terrorist organization. They were worse than that, the group frequently made contact with malevolent otherworldly beings, and had several anomalous items global consequence in their possession. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Magical Weapons of mass destruction that made them dangerous for anyone nation to take on, on their own.


    Which was why the cult¡¯s fall was part of what precipitated the rise of the UN Council of Magi¡¯s influence to what it was in the world of the current day.


    Subject-2771-B was given over to her father¡¯s custody because of the man¡¯s connections in the UN Council.


    Subject-2771-A however should have been black boxed, put in away in one of the Foundation¡¯s most secret, most secure, containment sites to mitigate his possible threat to the world. And kept there for the rest of his natural life.


    At least that was the plan. Then a Councilman came protesting on his daughter¡¯s behalf and a memo from a dangerous identity whose influence was even greater than the entire council¡¯s came down. So that plan fell away.


    They couldn¡¯t just cut the subjects loose, there was still a persistent threat in their existence, and the memo had made it clear that any attempts of cavelier action and use of clandestine means might well mean the end of the foundation and consequences for the world at large.


    Which lead to Agents Chapman and Reese¡¯s assignment to the house now known as Observation Site-2771. Which was really just any domicile in which Subjects-2771-A and 2771-B were currently living.


    *****


    Chapman waited with his cell phone to his ear, listening to the ring, he called once and got no answer. He called twice and there was still no response.


    He called the third time and there was a snarl.


    ¡°What!?¡±


    ¡°Woah, girl. It¡¯s me.¡±


    The agitation could still be heard in her voice, but he also heard her forcing herself to calm down.


    ¡°Oh...uh...hi, Chapman, what¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°Nothing really. We just got a huge spike of magical activity from the house, we just wanted to make sure you¡¯re okay.¡±


    ¡°....¡±


    There was no real response from the other end of the line which made Chapman a bit nervous.


    ¡°....Talk to me, Anne. We¡¯re all friends here, right?¡± said Chapman dropping his ¡°agent¡± for something less formal.


    She sighed.


    ¡°I¡­.I don¡¯t know...It¡¯s Clancy, something...somebody took him...Look I¡¯ll call you back I need to go.¡±


    She hung up and for roughly thirty minutes Chapman and Reese could only just sit and feel uncomfortable.


    They called it in, explaining the situation to the foundation and just got a standard sit and wait. Subjects-2771-A and B were ¡°unique¡± to the extent that standard attempts at intervention and containment wouldn¡¯t have worked even when they were just children.


    Speaking frankly, part of the reason why 2771-B had been given over into her father¡¯s custody was because the foundation agency hadn¡¯t been able to think of a safe way to actually hold her.


    Harming her in any way would just exacerbate things with 2771-A and so long as she was conscious 2771-B was both uncontainable and largely untraceable. Due to the way her powers interacted with space and time.


    Never mind now when they were both older and stronger, their M-particle levels reaching past the middle of the Spiral Stage standard.


    Then an hour passed and Chapman got a call on his phone.


    ¡°Hey¡­¡± said Chapman.


    ¡°Hey¡­¡± said a gruff, male voice. Silky, but rumbling, like a big cat¡¯s growl.


    It was 2771-A,


    ¡°So what¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°I got uh...kidnapped? Summoned? I don¡¯t know...It¡¯s just one of those things.¡±


    Chapman¡¯s brow jumped. Reese swore, listening in at the side.


    ¡°Shit...What happened?¡±


    ¡°Nothing much...Just some idiot kid playing with dangerous magic. I got their spell books, I¡¯ll hand them over when we¡¯re done since a few of them seem a bit¡­.unique.¡±


    Chapman nodded.


    ¡°Unique¡± when it came to anomalous items was pretty much a synonym for dangerous. Unique spell books usually had secret knowledge that either was little mentioned by Foundation records or wasn¡¯t safe to leave to the public.


    They would have liked to get the books first instead of letting the two play around with them or whatever they were intending to do. However nevermind that two¡¯s status made it unwise to agitate them, they were also full fledged spiral-mages. And taking magical materials from high powered mage was a bit like trying to take meat from a tiger¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Kay, We¡¯ll be waiting then¡­¡± said Chapman.


    ¡°Right...Anyway...Uh, Anne said I should thank you for calling in¡­.She¡¯d have said it herself but she kind of burned herself out making the portal to fetch me back. She¡¯ll probably talk to you later.¡±


    Chapman shook his head, momentarily forgetting that other person couldn¡¯t see him.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s uh, it¡¯s fine. No wonder, she was so freaked. You guys take care.¡±


    ¡°Night¡­¡± said 2771-A


    ¡°G¡¯Night.¡± said Chapman. With Reese shouting the same from the side.


    The two agents looked at each other, Reese swept a hand through his here and then whistled.


    ¡°Well shit, all''s well that ends well, I guess.¡± said Reese


    ¡°...I guess.¡±


    Chapman nodded. Then began to call the Foundation to let them know that the situation had been resolved.

 10: Some Days Just Suck

    Clancy ran, wondering just how long it was that he¡¯d been running. Behind him was a small army of carnivorous teddy bears, and blood thirsty plush-beasts.


    Their faux fur mattered in ichor. Their beady eyes filled with malice.


    He was currently on a job that involved finding the shut-off switch for an automated factory that made anomalous toys. Technically, the factory was only supposed to be partially automated.


    Unfortunately, the aforementioned man-eating stuffed animals had done away with all the former personnel. Thus the necessity of the foundation¡¯s intervention.


    *****


    At the moment, Clancy couldn¡¯t help wondering just which ¡°brilliant¡± mind had thought it wise to legalize the marketing of anomalous toys.


    He was aware that his current perilous situation was likely coloring his reception of the idea of toys that came to life. However, seeing how things had gone wrong in this particular instance, he couldn¡¯t help wondering if there weren¡¯t thousands, if not tens of thousands, of similar smaller incidents happening in homes across the globe.


    If such was the case, he found it hard to feel sympathy towards the victims of such events. He¡¯d even go as far as to say that anyone stupid enough to buy an actual cursed toy for a child that they knew and cared about was more or less asking for whatever came of it.


    After all, it wasn¡¯t like people were living in the good old days when things like curses and enchantments were supposed to be imaginary.


    A less than generous way of thinking about things yes, but again, most of that was probably being colored by Clancy¡¯s current dark mood.


    The last few days had been sort of rough at home, for some reason, putting Clancy in a funk that just couldn¡¯t figure out how to shake.


    And...He¡¯d spent the last sixteen hours playing a game of high stakes hide-and-seek. Which honestly wasn¡¯t that different from his usual routine.


    Work as a freelance Prospero Foundation Field Agent was pretty much all a mixture of collection quests, escort quests, fetch quests, delivery quests, hide-and-seek, or tag.


    An assortment of jobs whose similarity to those of your standard mmo adventurer''s guild was strong enough that the foundation had long since used that point of familiarity for marketing employment opportunities to a younger demographic.


    As such, the problems Clancy was facing was nothing new per se...it was just a matter of the job completion requirements being too fiddly. Fiddly and finicky to the point of making Clancy just about ready to swear off both this job and all other foundation work for the rest of his natural life.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    He wasn¡¯t going to actually do that of course. Clancy was well aware that aside from his magic...and all the combat and survival experience he¡¯d gotten instead getting any fond childhood memories... he really wasn¡¯t qualified to do much of anything else.


    And even if he was, if he had, had any other options for making ends meet, the mundane economy had been trashed by both the world wars and numerous micro-wars.


    Leading to a global economic depression that had lead to devaluation of most major currencies and an extreme scarcity for mundane work.


    In this day and age, it was common knowledge that if you wanted to get anywhere in this world and make decent money, you wanted to at least be magic adjacent if you couldn¡¯t be a caster yourself.


    In any case he couldn¡¯t quit, he and Anne¡¯s expenses wouldn¡¯t allow it. And even if he could, he¡¯d already sunk so many years into this career that stubbornness would stop him from doing so willingly.


    Which made his current situation all the worse.


    The worst kind of jobs to get, were those that seemed adamantly resistant to getting done, and those where the requesters were particular about how things went down. As if they were ordering a coffee instead of requesting the settlement of a high risk, high cost, life or death matter.


    Right now, considering that the inside of the factory was already a war zone, blanketed in a low hanging chemical smog, the walls riddled with bullets from a failed police response, the floors awash in blood, viscera and various chemicals.


    Clancy¡¯s first thought was to cover the four corners of the building in wards of ruin and flame, and then demolish the whole factory.


    A solution that would have settled the whole problem in less that five hours flat.


    Granted this solution only came to Clancy during hour twelve of his skulk through the factory and even he knew that it was probably just a tad extreme, especially considering that the company likely still intended to make use of this factory. Still by this point in time, he yearned to go with that option.


    Even if he accepted that this first option was off the table, he¡¯ at least have liked to have been able to fight back against his would be murderers, but even that was barred from him.


    The company that made the request to foundation didn¡¯t want all its merchandise destroyed. Thus a good two-thirds of the request reward stipulated that Clancy do as little damage as possible. Sticking to hiding and running away till he could find and eliminate the main target, the culprit of the factory massacre and the one teddy that was responsible for the rest going rogue.


    ¡°Fuck this job sometimes...Right up the ass!¡­¡±


    He ran, grumbling, keeping to shadows to keep himself out of sight. Casting spells of obscurity and sound muffling from fall under the attention of any errant evil glass eyes.


    Eventually by hour twenty-six he found it, sitting by itself in an empty office. A teddy that had grown to real bear proportions and then some.


    ¡°Oh...so that¡¯s where you were...You weren¡¯t even on the fucking factory floor...Of course you weren¡¯t¡­¡± grumbled Clancy.


    It was always the last place you look, wasn¡¯t it? Clancy had a good chuckle over it, before dropping the entirety of the floor above the beast down on top of its head.


    He¡¯d intended to just drop a ceiling tile on top the creature, using a gravity spell to make it land like an asteroid on top of the van-sized bear.


    Unfortunately, all those hours of running and hiding without rest, and the blood loss from having take plush-beast¡¯s attacks without destroying too many of them, had built up till he¡¯d finally begun to get sloppy.


    Seeing what he¡¯d done, and with the rest of the plushies catching up and seeming surprising unfixed, by the so-called solution of killing the head troublemaker, Clancy finally lost his temper and started striking out wanton.


    Throwing an hour long tantrum that wouldn¡¯t end till half the factory was reduced to rubble and ash and torn up fluff.


    Which lead to the factories defense systems, finally, activating themselves against his assault, since he was technically outsider. Versus the rampant the toys which though rampant and murderous were still considered part of the factory.


    Clancy ended up facing a twenty-foot tall mechanical teddy bear, that wasn¡¯t insane like all the rest, but was still a pain in the ass. Exhausted and just simply over this whole situation, he activated the mass-to-energy enchantments that Anne had put on the shiny extremely expensive shortsword that she¡¯d made him. Jamming the weapon into the creature¡¯s maw right before the spell went off, turning five pounds of enchanted steel into a blast of kinetic force and heat equalling that of a small nuclear device.


    ¡­.Which, predictably enough, brought down the other half of the factory and ruined a fair portion of the lot that lay beyond.


    Clancy knew he was giving up a fairly hefty part of the reward but by then he no longer cared. He¡¯d make up the money like he always did.


    Immediately going back to the Foundation¡¯s Job Board and grabbing another, slightly more straightforward request, collecting monster parts or magical rocks or some such nonsense, till he felt that he could safely say that he¡¯d done his part to make sure he and Anne¡¯s account would stay in the black.

 11: Pain and Growing

    It was strange how one thing could color so many others. How one incident could change the trajectory of several days time...


    That night they had a fight, a real row, one of the biggest they¡¯d had since they¡¯d gotten together.


    Clancy had just gotten home after three days in the Monochrome, three days from the ¡°real¡± world¡¯s perspective, six or so in Monochrome time.


    Anne was inside, as always. Though this time, she had company. The day was a filming day. Which meant that she had some of her crew there with her. Mostly the usual suspects, friends that Anne had made in school, who¡¯d gone into business with her when it looked like her little mom and pop magic crafting set up and muu-tube channel might turn into something real.


    Paulette, Regina, Kate, and Leona were Anne¡¯s camera woman, editor, workshop-assistant, general advisor respectively.


    There were a few other people there, some of them wandering in an out of the kitchen and out of Anne¡¯s workshop.


    Assistants to Anne¡¯s friends, faces that Clancy didn¡¯t really know on a personal level, with names he¡¯d never bothered to memorize.


    Two of these unknown names belonged to faces that you¡¯d see on a men¡¯s fashion catalogue and lithe, rippling physiques you¡¯d rarely expect to see outside of the silver screen.


    They weren¡¯t what this fight was about though...Anne and Clancy weren¡¯t the just jealous type. At least Clancy wasn¡¯t the jealous type, his feelings for Anne were mixed with a certain measure of guilt.


    He just wanted her to be happy, if that meant being the best man he could be for her he could do that. If that meant letting her go, though it¡¯d probably kill him, he could do that too. In his head, it was the least he could do.


    He and his father owed her that much, at the very least.


    But again, that wasn¡¯t what this was about, the two men were just hired help, models. Recipients of some magical tattoos, that were allowing Anne and her company to videotape the process in return for her giving them the enchanted bodyart free of charge.


    Clancy got home, popped his head, and waved hi to the crew and then went to go do his own thing. He showered, he ate. He slept. Sleeping like a dead stone.


    Two or three hours after his head hit the pillow, he was woken with a kiss. One kiss became two kisses, two kisses became three, three kisses somehow turned into oral sex.


    Clancy was at the foot of his bed, his head between Anne¡¯s thighs, when things went down.


    ¡°So...uh, where the hell were you last night?¡± she purred. Eyes glittering in the dark.


    Since his mouth was occupied, he spoke with his head, using magic and their ¡°special connection¡± to get his thoughts across from his head to hers.


    [Working, babe¡­.]


    ¡°Regular work or...dangerous work, Clancy.¡±


    There was something in her tone of voice that let Clancy know that they weren¡¯t having fun anymore. Throwing ice water on the moment they were having.


    ¡°All my work is dangerous, hon. You know that.¡± said Clancy. His voice tight and defensive. His inner voice aware that he was likely taking the wrong track, the wrong tone too.


    Aware that he was making a mistake by reminding his girlfriend and sometimes wife, that his occupation was just simply dangerous as a fact.


    She sat up, arms crossed over her milky white breasts, her expression stern without being stern. Her face set in a particular way that Clancy had long grown to recognize as a warning sign.


    ¡°Yes...I am aware that all your work is dangerous, but hon, I¡¯m pretty sure we both know that sometimes your work is more dangerous then it needs to be...Or rather sometimes you do it so its more dangerous than it needs to be.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Clancy¡¯s met his girlfriend¡¯s gaze, both of peers of red eyes seeming to glow in the gloom of his bedroom.


    He stepped back for a second, stepping out of himself. It was of those moments where a guy can see themselves making a mistake. Where one can see one¡¯s choices and watch how they could blow up in one¡¯s face. It was like seeing a glass placed on the edge of a table and knowing that in all likelihood, if nothing was done, the glass would likely fall and be broken.


    It was all these things. Seeing the future and knowing how things could go wrong. And it was one of those moments where one makes the mistakes anyway.


    ¡°Anne, you¡¯re making a bigger deal of this then it needs to be.¡± Thirteen little words, that served as the shot heard around the world.


    She went from being perturbed and concerned and to being pissed. He doubled down by calling her a nag. Which got Anne from being pissed to being furious, which lead to the ever dreaded ¡®you¡¯re just like your father line.¡¯ That always got through all his defenses like a heat seeking missile. Hitting his sore spot every damn time.


    At which point they both started shouting. With Anne shouting because she knew that Clancy was supposed to have been back a day ago. Given this knowledge because he¡¯d assured her that the job, the first job, would be quick and relatively safe for a reward of its level.


    And instead of defusing things, Clancy ended up shouting back, like trying to put out a fire with explosions, because sensitive bruisers like him generally didn¡¯t like being yelled at.


    It was the kind of fight where both parties ended up in tears, though Clancy was too much of a man to consider it as anything more than conspicuous beads of anger sweat, in his case.


    They yelled for hours, with Clancy only coming back to himself around hour three when Anne started pulling a Carrie, throwing things around and setting things on fire with her mind.


    The fight ended with Clancy in his car, in the driveway and Anne in her room. Angrily working on one of her projects.


    Clancy peeled out, the tires screeching as he headed off to give his girl some time alone and himself some time to cool off.


    Miraculously he wasn¡¯t pulled over since it was the early morning and he was going about 50mph in a residential zone.


    As Clancy calmed down and slowed down, he sighed, remembering just how exhausted he still was.


    ¡°Fuck¡­..¡± sighed Clancy. Slapping the steering wheel.


    The fight that he and Anne had just had shouldn¡¯t have blown up like it did. Sure, his tendency to overwork and take risks, was a pet peeve of Anne¡¯s but she¡¯d never gotten that upset about it before.


    As he went over the last few hours in his head he realized that the cause was something else. Something that had happened days before. Leaving his own head, to the shared, illusory third head that hung between the two, one memory stood prominent in their shared consciousness.


    A certain magical kidnapping incident, his summoning from a few days prior.


    Anne and Clancy¡¯s relationship was steady as diamond plated steel, but their past was rocks and mountains and knives.


    Clancy had grown up in a cult, a cult that worshipped a very real, very malevolent cosmic entity. A cult led by a psychopath that he had to call father.


    As for Anne, she was kidnapped by this cult, condemned to be tortured by that psychopath and be a plaything to that psychopath¡¯s son.


    To call their lives within that cult nightmarish would be an understatement. Add to this, their unique nature due to Clancy¡¯s father¡¯s experimentation, and it was only to be expected that some kind of complex would be built on the matter. Sitting like a landmine in the back of their minds.


    The long and the short of it, was that due to their pasts and the nature of their beings, the two had a shared fear that one day, something very dark and angry and powerful was going to come looking for them.


    This was yet another motivation for them to cultivate their magic. They needed to become as strong possible. Stronger than anyone else.


    They needed as much power as they could gather, because in the back of both their minds, it was less a question of what they¡¯d have to do ¡°if¡± the demon Dantalion came looking for them, and more of a question what they¡¯d be able to do ¡°when¡± the demon finally showed up to avenge itself against the usurpers of its throne, the thieves that stole its diabolical essence.


    Sitting in Anne¡¯s place, having Clancy¡¯s just disappear, like he had, would have been terrifying. If it had been Clancy, he¡¯d have likely lost his ability to reason. Making it astounding that she¡¯d been able to go into her room and look up the tracking spells and dimensional breeching spells to find him.


    Were it not for his over-protective tendencies making it so that he was always the receiver of any summonings or harmful spells,... had it been Anne who¡¯d been taken instead of Clancy... he¡¯d have probably just panicked, using raw magic to get her back. Smashing through the fabric of space and time, nearly shredding himself apart and doing his best to kill whatever stood in his way till he found her again.


    Clancy pulled over at coffee shop and bought two. He ended up drinking both, because he realized he wasn¡¯t quite up to facing Anne again yet.


    Instead of going home he went to the Foundation Office of all place. Sitting in the foundation parking lot and calling a number he¡¯d saved but never expected to actually have to call.


    The phone rang once, twice, three times. Then finally someone on the other end of the call picked up.


    ¡°Good Morning, you¡¯ve reached the offices of Prospero Foundation Administrator Hammond. Might I ask who is speaking?¡± said the voice of Foundation Administrator''s Secretary.


    ¡°Ah...Well, this is Clancy Ambrose, Foundation Freelancer Class-2, Freelance Agent - 492771. I¡¯d like to ask if the Administrator could see me this morning... He gave me a job offer a little while ago and I wanted ask if the position was still open¡­¡± said Clancy.


    For a few minutes there was no answer from the other end of the call. Then the Secretary¡¯s voice cut back in.


    ¡°...Administrator Hammond won¡¯t be able to see you today, but if you¡¯d like he has time free on his schedule for tomorrow around 6 AM.¡± said the secretary.


    Clancy sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Questioning if he really wanted to take the step and answering his own question instantly because he knew that working like he did, and letting both him and Anne languish in semi-security as he¡¯d been doing would no longer cut it now that they¡¯d both been put on edge with this recent reminder of their relative weakness, both economically and in terms of cultivation.


    While he couldn¡¯t fix all of their problems with money, he knew that they needed resources and in his head getting them the necessary resources was his job.


    If they needed more resources, then for Anne and his sake, he needed to start working smarter instead of just harder, when it came to how he got those resources. He needed to make more and do so in a relatively safer, definitively more reliable fashion.


    ¡°Yes, thank you. Tomorrow Morning at 6 AM will be fine.¡± said Clancy.

 12: Playing Nice

    ¡°...I must say Mr.Ambrose. I¡¯d never expected to see the day that ¡°you¡± graced my office with your presence¡­¡±


    ¡°Or, more likely, I imagine you never saw the day when I was brought in here for a non-bad reason...am I right?Mister Principal?¡± said Clancy, trying to light the tension he was feeling with his weak attempt at humor.


    ¡°Quite true...but here we are, the impossible came to pass...but damn, that¡¯s seems to be the rule of thumb for our world these days, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Nicholas Hammond, Head Administrator of Fontaine¡¯s Prospero Foundation Headquarters.


    ¡°Mhm...um...Well, either way, thanks for seeing me.¡± said Clancy.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t mention it. I¡¯ve always got time for my friends, boyo. And that¡¯s what we are right?...Friends?¡± said Hammond.


    ¡°Right¡­¡± said Clancy. His shoulder tensed, just in case the man pressed any of the buttons, that they both knew were hidden on the underside of his desk.


    The two men sat in a spacious office. A windowless room that was bathed in clean white halogenic light.


    Its cream colored walls decorated with a few certificates and trophies and angular, metallic knick-knacks.


    With a single, massive, horned skull sitting at the back of the room to draw the eye and serve as possible conversation piece. As well as a promise, and a warning, of the capabilities of the room¡¯s owner.


    Hammond sat behind his desk and Clancy sat across from him, feeling uncomfortable and slightly self unconscious. Working very hard to keep himself from fidgeting.


    ¡°So uh, I got my secretary to pencil you in Clancy, but I¡¯m afraid I neglected to have her write down what it was you wanted to see me about.¡± said Hammond.


    Clancy frowned, because he knew the man was lying, there was a mean spirited brightness in Hammond¡¯s eyes that assured Clancy that the man knew damn well what Clancy was here for.


    Hammond just wanted to make Clancy say it aloud, if he was feeling especially evil, he¡¯d only give Clancy what he wanted, after making Clancy beg for it.


    Still Clancy had to pretend he didn¡¯t know all this and play along, because being a spoilsport wouldn¡¯t get him what he needed.


    ¡°...Don¡¯t worry about it...like we said this whole thing ¡°is¡± a bit apropos right? So honestly it¡¯s probably my fault for not being clear about what I¡¯m here for.¡± said Clancy.


    ¡°Right, well you¡¯re here now...so maybe you can clarify¡­¡± said Hammond.


    ¡°Ah, right. Okay, so, I think you¡¯ll probably remember a few years ago, maybe eight or nine years ago...Maybe ten?...Anyway, it was while ago¡­.when I¡¯d just joined the foundation and more specifically when I¡¯d just joined this particular branch of the Foundation in New Camden.¡±


    ¡°Right? What of it?¡± said Hammond. Purposefully interrupting Clancy¡¯s momentum to throw him off his game.


    ¡°....W-, well...So...um, when I was first starting off you made me an offer to join this foundation in a more direct way, by becoming one of the Foundation¡¯s committed Mages...a Foundation Elite. I turned you down because, at the time, me and missus didn¡¯t really know how long we¡¯d be staying here and I didn¡¯t know how long I¡¯d be doing this¡­¡±


    ¡°Now a few years later you¡¯re a commendable veteran freelancer with hundreds of completed requests under your belt, and you¡¯re a mage boasting powers that reach into the middle ranks of the Spiral Stage...You¡¯ve been doing this for a while and now I take it you¡¯re feeling a little more sure of what you¡¯re doing and where you¡¯re headed in this life...in other words, you¡¯ve gone and done a fair amount of growing up¡­¡± said Hammond. Cutting in yet again, his look like that of a stern, well meaning, father figure. Which only served to make Clancy dislike the man more. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°...Er...Right¡­.Pretty much¡± said Clancy. Speaking to break the heavy lull that fell after the other man had finished with condescending soliloquizing.


    The lull persisted forcing Clancy to speak once more, despite the dryness building at the back of his throat.


    ¡°...So? Uh...what do you say, Adminstrator Hammond? Is the offer still open?¡± said Clancy. Hoping that the emails he got every few months or so, reflecting similarly open positions was an indication.


    Hammond looked at the young man in front of him. Feeling an old ache at the base of his nose. Whether it was twisted fate, or ill humored serendipity, it seemed that he, Hammond and the young Ambrose, were simply meant to be in each other¡¯s lives.


    Hammond had been the one to make the arrest when the foundation, the US¡¯s Magus Authority in the US Army, and the UN internationally gathered forces stormed the compound at the Dantalion Cult¡¯s North American branch.


    Back then he¡¯d actually been there as one of the UN¡¯s boys, having left the army to join the international-magus Authority.


    He¡¯d been the one to find a young Clancy. A half mad, feral child, who smelled of brimstone and whose skin was smoking, his eyes still aglow with the fires of hell. With the shredded pulp of his own father¡¯s heart clutched between his fingers.


    Perhaps Hammond and his people could have engaged with a little less aggression, perhaps they could have remembered that they were still dealing with a child and dealt with the issue more gently. Perhaps...Hammond could have then and now, been and be, the bigger man and not hold what happened as the result of their approach against the boy.


    But Hammond wasn¡¯t the bigger man, or at least he didn¡¯t want to be. Two of his colleagues ended up paralyzed for life, and one nearly ended up dying. The boy nearly bit Hammond¡¯s nose off.


    He¡¯d nearly died from the outrage, when the higher ups swooped in and told him and his superiors UN


    And though the healers could fix the damage, on a certain cold days, Hammond could still feel the monstrous youth¡¯s unnaturally sharp teeth crunching through the cartilage and bulbous tissue of his nose.


    He was holding a grudge, a big grudge, but one that he was mature enough never to act on and the ¡°boy¡± had been wise enough not to give him an opportunity to pursue. Growing up to become a fairly, perhaps troublingly capable man, a reasoning beast.


    Aware of how to be useful and how not to make an eyesore of itself. Thus while the two were not friends, they were also not enemies.


    And while Hammond would have loved nothing better than the ability to run this, demon in human form, in front of him, through a wringer, and then use his powers as Administrator to put the man on a extremely tight, extremely short, leash


    ¡­.He knew it wouldn¡¯t be wise to try and do so... In a world of magic and the fantastical, it was the men who were most pragmatic and practical in their actions who prospered ¡­Petty vengeance might have felt nice but continual promotion up the organizational ladder felt much more satisfying.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡±


    Clancy blinked.


    ¡°Okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay, we¡¯d be happy to have you as one of our people.¡± said Hammond.


    Clancy blinked once again. Not sure what the trick was, waiting in his seat to hear the butt. Unconsciously glaring at the other man, to see what strings he¡¯d attach to this acceptance of Clancy¡¯s request.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°...Really. I¡¯ll have someone get a contract to you within a week¡¯s time if that¡¯s okay, Mr.Ambrose. You¡¯ll be an Elite on paper, but we¡¯ll really be giving you special consideration as a Special-Class.¡± said Hammond. Feeling both bemused and amused as he spoke.


    Amused by the response from the other man, as he watched him staring at him with naked suspicion. Bemused because he knew that he. Hammond was being perfectly serious and perfectly candid about this.


    There would be no games. He wouldn¡¯t be giving the man a run around. He¡¯d have loved to be able to do so, and had he taken the offer back when he was just barely a circle stage magi, Hammond could have had a bit of fun pushing the boy around.


    Unfortunately, Clancy had chosen to wait and grow a little older and tougher and harder to chew.


    Worse yet, in the time he¡¯d been growing he really had built up an impressive backlog of successfully completed requests. Some of them of a scale that would have normally required, full foundation troops, or multiple freelancer parties, to see completed.


    That was the kind of rare talent that Prospero Foundation normally did its best to woo. Accepting such people as Special-Class agents, or so called Flexible Elites.


    Elite Foundation Agents who were hired on with better pay and benefits, and less restrictions to what they could and couldn¡¯t do and what was required and expected of them, because rather than using Foundation resources to get as good as they were, they¡¯d somehow become good all on their own.


    What made things even worse, was that the boy¡¯s progress from circle stage to spiral had taken less than ten years.


    Whether he knew it or not, whether he¡¯d thought of this or not, all this together made Clancy the sort of talent that any of the world¡¯s factions and the magical families would put some effort into recruiting, even with his checkered past.


    He was the sort of investment that could keep on paying big, full centuries into the future. And therefore doing anything to make the man consider walking away from the Foundation would have been against Hammond¡¯s own interests.


    As there was a very possibility that this and the unique circumstances that made Clancy into an observation subject for the Foundation, would have led to Foundation¡¯s higher up, finding out any mishandling of the issue on Hammond¡¯s part, should the Ambrose couple choose to look elsewhere for opportunities, backers and potential allegiances.


    Having had his fun, Hammond frowned and rolled his eyes. Having grown weary of having the odious young man in his presence.


    ¡°Well,..I don¡¯t know about you...but I¡¯ve got other things to do today...So if you don¡¯t mind?...¡±


    Clancy startled.


    ¡°Huh....Oh..Er, right...Well, uh... thank¡¯s for seeing me.¡± said Clancy. Getting up, nearly knocking the chair over as he rose.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it¡­.Seriously.¡± said Hammond. Reaching out to shake the other man¡¯s hand, while forcing a tightly, polite smile onto his face.

 13: Lost in Translation

    Anne sat in her room with a laptop open on her desk. With several windows for two separate CAD programs, open on her laptop.


    She was working on the latest contract to fall into the lap of her little mom and pop magic-crafting company. Looking through some troublesome product designs that she¡¯d been sent by a certain electronics company. Working to make them gremlin proof.


    She had been doing so for the last twenty-two hours and seemed to be making little headway in understanding why the game console seemed to randomly spew out an evil little girl with no eyes and a hankering for human souls, from its connected monitor, every three hundredth time it was turned on.


    Once the project was done and she and her team were finished with it, she¡¯d come away from it with a cool $300,000 dollars, which split between her staff and her, according to the company¡¯s pay structure. would mean Anne making around $60,000 from the job¡­$45,000 after taxes and overhead, which was still fairly good for a minor troubleshooting gig.


    Normally this kind of job would be right up her alley, but right now Anne couldn¡¯t concentrate. She¡¯d started off being furious, then she¡¯d gotten sad and shamefully teary-eyed. Now she just felt blah, a feeling of ennui sweeping through and draining away all her motivation.


    ¡°Clancy...you idiot.¡±


    Sometimes, it was like no matter what one did...one still ended up being misunderstood. The points one was trying to make and the feelings behind them never seeming to bridge the gap between what was in one¡¯s head and what one was trying to get across.


    Even if you¡¯d known the other person for forever, even if the two of you seemed to generally be on the same wavelength. Even if you literally shared headspace between one another, your thoughts and theirs, your soul and theirs, being linked by a metaphysical connection.


    Even with all that, you could still find yourself trying to talk to them, speaking slowly as if to a small child or an obnoxious tourist, and still see them not getting what you were trying to say.


    ¡°Stupid! Stupid!...Argh¡­¡±


    Anne went over the fight in her head, not sure whether she was more mad at Clancy or mad at herself.


    All this time she¡¯d figured that Clancy understood that while she could accept that the nature of his profession was dangerous in and off itself, she would not accept him taking extra risks with his life.


    One stray bullet, one stray spell, one unaccounted for mass of muscle, scales, stingers and teeth that was allowed to sneak up on him for an end of the film jumpscare, and their life together would be over just like that.


    She knew the man was good at what he did, but no one bats a thousand, eventually he would make mistakes.


    Or rather forget eventually, she¡¯d seen what happened when Clancy screwed up, she¡¯d watched him come home with the kind of gruesome crippling injuries, that would get normal men discharged from the service.


    The kind of injuries that could result in a Foundation representative coming over with a blown up photo from his membership card, the first check from his life insurance policy payout, and their condolences. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    She¡¯d always remember the day, that he¡¯d come through their front door in a wheel, with everything from his waist below, just missing. She¡¯d recall standing in the hallway that separated the living room from the kitchen, with a phone in her hand, and secretary from one of the Foundation¡¯s dedicated hospitals informing her that they¡¯d seemed to have misplaced her boyfriend. Who till just a day ago had been too utterly damaged to be identified as more than a John Doe.


    That was one time where she chose not to have it out with the man, just keeping her anxieties and upset over the incident bottled up.


    Even with all this, the man still thought it was a question of ¡°how much¡± he risked himself, which to be fair was partly true because the whole job was a risk. He was working for an organization that initially viewed him as more of liability and a target to be contained than anything else. Gallivanting through the countless highly dangerous, highly volatile alternate realities of the monochrome.


    Anne would spend sleepless night, sitting making all these designs for armors and weapons and talismans and potions, anything to keep himself, anything to keep her from having to think about exactly how much trouble he was getting himself into.


    But for the most part he¡¯d usually either not use what she made for him or he¡¯d say it was better off being put on the market to help their income.


    Which in her head made absolutely no sense, since she would have figured that keeping her reckless other-half alive was a marked protection of ¡°half¡± the couple¡¯s income.


    So he¡¯d turn down most of her attempts to help him, saying that he could handle it, and that he was using the danger to push himself and other nonsense to that end.


    Which she¡¯d swallow because what else could she do, she couldn¡¯t sit on his chest and stay there, till he did what she told him to. That would be nuts. And he¡¯d probably just get turned on, because everything turned the man on, he ¡°was¡± a lust-type caster after all, which wouldn¡¯t really help.


    Honestly, while it was true that the line between significant other and parental guardian figure might sometimes blur, the simple fact was, that a wife was not a mom.


    Clancy was a big boy and some things she¡¯d accepted that there were some thing that she just had to let him decide on his own.


    What got her, what really set her off, was that he was making all these decisions and then on top of it, he¡¯d decide to go and take more risks.


    Worse risks, with worse odds where he was tired and under-equipped and usually wounded in some capacity.


    All done for the sake of helping them ¡°make end¡¯s meet¡±. She¡¯d tried gently telling him not to do it, and he still did it anyway. She tried not so gently telling him not to do it, and he still did it anyway.


    She called his friend, Dennis, and told him to keep an eye on the man and remind him he had a girlfriend at home who¡¯d be fairly pissed if he still took his hands into his life for the sake of a few extra thousand dollars that they could definitely either make up elsewhere or save by cutting back their costs a little and he still did it anyway.


    Then a week ago, he gets kidnapped by some random wicked-witch wannabe who was playing with summoning spells and while Anne would admit that this probably put her on edge, she knew from their shared headspace it put him on edge too.


    She also knew that he knew that she knew, and so he should have known that this would not be the time for taking extra risks since they were both feeling very vulnerable. But what the did the man go and do? He went and did what he always did, taking needless risks, coming back to her beat to hell.


    She knew this because he mostly took the dressing down she gave him without too much argument. At least till she said he was acting ¡°just as arrogant as his father¡±. Which she knew she¡¯d regret saying even as she said it, but was running too hot at the time, to swallow the words back.


    Things blew up and now she was all alone in her room, and Clancy was out, wherever, probably doing something rash, for both their sakes. Because he always acted like it was his job to take care of her, when the truth was they were both stuck in this terrible/wonderful, extended twilight episode that they called a life, together.


    ¡°....¡±


    Anne sighed, sat up and ducked below her bed, scrounging around looking for her cell phone. At first she considered calling Clancy back so she could apologize and maybe give him a chance to apologize too since she was definitely not the only one who was wrong in this.


    Then she decided to call a few other numbers instead, numbers she¡¯d kept at the bottom of her contact list, because she knew of at least one sure-fire way to keep the man safe, and keep them as resource rich as they needed to be to keep their conditions, and the expenses that came with those conditions, from consuming them both.

 14: Nine to Five

    ¡°Baby...I¡¯m sorry. I know my taking all these risks worries you and I promise I¡¯ll try to do better.¡± said Clancy. Sitting in his living with his wife at his side.


    She leaned forwards giving him a frown that was more of a pout, her eyes clear and unblinking.


    ¡°Only try, hon?¡±


    Clancy tugged at his ear, looking a bit sheepish and uncomfortable.


    ¡°Anne, you know I don¡¯t like lying to you...That¡¯s why I generally don¡¯t...Which is why I can¡¯t say that I¡¯ll never take any risks because if I think I can get away with it, with a good enough margin of error, or that I have no choice, with non-suicidal odds...I¡¯ll usually give things a shot.


    It¡¯s just the nature of the job and too be honest, babe...between you and me...your husband is a bit of an idiot¡­It¡¯s not me being cocky...or overconfident...I swear on my soul it¡¯s not¡­


    I¡¯m just bad at running the numbers and figuring the percentages. Where others see a job with 68% chance of success. I round up and see it as 75%. I realize now that perhaps that might not be the best way of going about things. And I promise to get better with my math¡­¡±


    Anne furrowed her brow, trying to make heads or tails out of her boyfriends nonsensical ramble. She sighed, moving a little closer and giving the man a peck on the forehead.


    ¡°Yes, Yes.. my boyfriend... is indeed a bit thick...I¡¯m not sure what numbers he thinks he¡¯s running in that head of his, but he should just try to keep in mind that he has someone who waits at home for him worried sick.¡±


    Clancy nodded.


    ¡°He does...I mean...I do.¡±


    ¡°Okay, then...well, since you¡¯ve promised to do better. I¡¯ll apologize for going all nagging wife on you before¡­¡±


    ¡°Well...hon, you weren¡¯t super naggy..,just¡± said Clancy. Taking the opportunity to try and build up some brownie point.


    Anne gave him the eye, raising a single brow till Clancy gave up.


    ¡°Super Naggy?¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Er...anyway as you were saying?¡± said Clancy. Putting on a face of befuddled innocence.


    She sighed, taking a moment to think and follow her thoughts back to where she¡¯d left off.


    ¡°As I was saying...I¡¯ll promise not to nag you so much if you do that thing you¡¯d always promised to do once you¡¯d started working bigger jobs and got higher up in Foundation.¡± said Anne.


    Clancy gulped half-sure of what his girl was about to ask of him.


    ¡°Okay, shoot. If it¡¯ll make you feel better about my job then I¡¯m game.¡± said Clancy.


    *****


    They gave him a $1, 250,000.00 dollar signing bonus. A million dollars plus another quarter of a million dollars, just for signing on the dotted line.


    Similar to the kind of signing bonuses given to corporate executives and professional athletes.


    This and the fairly generous terms under which they¡¯d allowed him to sign on with them, made Clancy 1000% sure that eventually things between him and the Prospero Foundation in which he was now a committed member would inevitably sour in the most catastrophic of ways.


    He tried to be optimistic and tell himself that this was just a sign that things for him and Anne were about to turn up and get easier, but there was no denying his own nature.


    Despite her being the more cynical between the two of them, Anne was the one who was better at looking at the brighter side of things¡­Part of her bid to become the world¡¯s greatest polymath was down to all those hopes and dreams she had.


    Clancy could fake positivity and make himself look at only the best case scenarios, but the inside of his head, would be calling odds on ragnarok all the while. Sometimes looking on the bright side meant you could only see the bodies better.


    What Clancy had instead of hope was determination, a cockroach-like persistence, and a ¡°fake it till you make it¡± kind of confidence.


    This part of Clancy¡¯s personality was yet another reason that he kept few friends. He could pretend to be friendly but he usually spent most of his interactions with new faces, working on when to how to handle them should they prove hostile, and how they might be a threat.


    Keeping emotionally distant just in case he ever needed to put his guesses to the test.


    Which was part of why Dennis was pretty much one of the only ¡°real¡± friends the man had. His pie in the sky, boy scout-ish, borderline-offputting, earnestness meant that even Clancy couldn¡¯t shake the man off.


    But that was besides the point. Even without the signing bonus, Clancy and Anne would have still been working on trying to get strong enough to shake the Foundation of their backs anyway. They, or at least he, was just jaded that way.


    However once again, that wasn¡¯t point, the point was that, they gave Clancy $250,000 dollars.


    The first thought that came Clancy¡¯s mind was to go home to his girl and let her in on the good news.


    Anne¡¯s first thought was to call her people and let them know that after she wrapped up up their most current projects, they were to split the majority of the take amongst themselves and go on a break because she¡¯d be taking a little holiday herself.


    With Clancy and Her, taking a month off to unwind and mentally prepare for all that they¡¯d have to do in the near future. And recovering from a bit of the stress they¡¯d built from all they¡¯d done in the last few months.


    For now they¡¯d rest and indulge in snacks, fast food, so bad it¡¯s good movies, and each other¡¯s bodies.


    Anne would get to feed an extra third and fourth time this month because they could now afford more doses of Amrita-9. Which meant Anne could feed more.


    Which meant that it¡¯d be almost like Anne was a normal woman. One who could interact with the outside world and lead a life beyond the walls of their townhouse.


    For all that she, more or less never, complained about the life she normally lead, Clancy knew, it was something that would mean a lot to her.

 15: Pina Coladas

    ¡°You know...I don¡¯t know when we last took a break like this¡­¡± said Clancy.


    ¡°Baby, the answer is never...We¡¯ve never taken a break like this. The last time I could leave the house for more than a few hours at a time, was before my mom met your dad. The last time we weren¡¯t running away from something, or working to stay afloat on our medical costs, the bills, the mortgage and magi cultivation¡­was sometime before either of us graduated high school and I¡¯m pretty sure we didn¡¯t even have an actual honeymoon since our marriage was mostly for tax purposes, and to get our house on the cheap... We sort of just got hitched and then went back to doing what we were doing.¡± said Anne. Yawning contentedly.


    ¡°Ah...well, that¡¯s something we¡¯re going to have to fix. We need to do this more...Taking more time for ourselves and all that.¡± said Clancy.


    Anne lay back, stretching, back arching, Her chest threatening to flow out from the bikini top that she wore.


    ¡°Mhm, That¡¯d be nice, I think¡­.I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯ve just found something else to look forward to, for when we¡¯re finally Sphere Stage and can put all our...you know...behind us.¡± said Anne.


    ¡°True...that really is something to look forward to. Still, I think living a little for the here and now, won¡¯t do us ill either. ¡± said Clancy. Chuckling as he pulled two beers from the cooler that sat between his and Anne¡¯s beach chairs.


    Relishing the cold from the ice chips and frost that stuck to the bottles.


    He handed Anne¡¯s hers and took his, twisting the cap off, taking a small amount of pleasure in listening to the hiss of the gasp escaping. Tipping the open bottle towards his mouth before it could foam over.


    It was hard to say whether what He and Anne were doing could technically be called vacationing.


    Their watch status under the Prospero Foundation and UN Council made it hard for them to go on any impromptu trips. So even with one and a quarter million dollars to play with they hadn¡¯t really been able to go anywhere nice, or at least they hadn¡¯t really been able to go anywhere out of the country.


    Which was a shame since the travel network said Tuscany was especially beautiful this year. With the fairies being out in force. Making the days into a butterfly fantasia and filling the nights with silent fireworks displays.


    Not wanting to waste their one month off, Anne had come up with the bright idea of having Clancy take her to work with him. At first he¡¯d balked, concerned for her safety, then he reminded her that technically their powers were at around the same level, even if their strengths were in separate areas.


    Besides, they weren¡¯t seriously going to go and work. They were using the trip as an excuse to go somewhere different, and see some pleasurable sights while also ducking some troublesome red tape.


    *****


    The couple was currently in a location known as Laestrygon, classified by foundation as a death world.


    Which sounded exactly as ominous as it should sound, considering the vast number of hostile flora and fauna, and the marauding tribes of fifteen foot tall, woolly, cyclopes, that were native to this particular monochrome world.


    The cyclopes were normally docile though, and the world turned out to be the ideal setting for their little get away, with its border-line tropical climate.


    Making it into a beautiful world of endless night, one with glowing blue-green coasts and shores of fine white sand.


    All that was needed was some literal domestic magic from Anne, and some figurative domestic magic from Clancy, for the two to make themselves a little hideaway. A little home away from home, to spend the last two weeks of their vacation.


    A magical construct that was essentially an alchemically-constructed cabin. complete with magic-based utilities such as heating, electricity and running water.


    With the actual work that they were supposed to be doing, being handled by a gender-targeted curse, that the two had cast. One that would kill three fifths of the locals cyclops male population and afflict the rest with either impotence, infertility, or drastically lowered reproductive rates. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The spell spreading like a virus to inflict others of the species that lay beyond their curse¡¯s immediate range.


    A cruel sounding measure, but one that was unfortunately very necessary. This world was one of those that had multiple hidden touch points within ¡°real¡± world. The high number of gates to this world making it hard to police and control. A problem that was exacerbated by the gates¡¯ tendency to shift around and move to different locations on earth.


    A recent unexplained population explosion for the cyclopes left them with a five to one male to female ratio. As well as a change in bio chemistry that led to the creatures taking on a troubling a practice of going on rapacious feeding frenzies.


    Raiding the ¡°real¡± world for women and ¡°food¡±, which here usually meant whoever happened to be standing next to the aforementioned women.


    A close call at a high school summer program in Michigan being the trigger for the Foundation and Federal Authorities, looking into some more extreme measures to keep this particular worlds population down to a baseline minimum.


    With multiple teams of Foundation Agents getting sent in to cull the cyclops population till their numbers were low enough for them to be rendered docile again.


    ****


    The point being, that the couple was currently blissed out, like they¡¯d not been in quite the while.


    Relaxing, getting to know each other and themselves again. Getting re-familiarized amidst talk and sex and more talk, and more sex.


    Not doing much of anything,... constructive with their time and loving it. Enjoying not feeling like they had to achieve something for once. Enjoying a brief escape of living their lives without the sensation that whole world and even time itself, was stepping on their necks, reminding that, all that they had could unravel all so very easily.


    What¡¯s more, whether she¡¯d intended it or not, -...and Clancy was smart enough to suspect the former more than the latter-......she¡¯d convinced him. Shifting his thoughts on a certain matter he¡¯d been mulling over, in a way she¡¯d always been especially good at.


    Anne¡¯s presence at his side and the ease with which they¡¯d completed what would have normally been a protracted and tedious mission, had him convinced that perhaps he really should go through with that plan of hers.


    *****


    The worst portion of their little get away came two days before the trip''s end. They were walking through the wilderness of Laestrygon, doing a survey of how effective the curse had been. And how much damage it had done to the local populace.


    They passed bodies that were still, furry heaps that lay keeled over, as if they¡¯d fallen to sleep where they¡¯d been standing.


    The task took the better half of an afternoon and Clancy spent a lot of the time that they were there fretting.


    ¡°Watch your, step.¡±


    ¡°Are you tired? Tell me if you¡¯re tired, hon. We can stop and take break any time.¡±


    ¡°Are you hungry, hon? Thirsty? I brought juice and snacks.¡±


    He¡¯d say things that made it hard for his girlfriend to decide whether he was treating her as if she were pregnant, five years old, made of glass or all the above.


    It was enough to get on anyone¡¯s nerves but she forgave the silly man, because he knew he meant well by it. It even gave her an amusing window into what the man would be like it when they¡¯d gotten everything settled, and they really could have kids.


    The man could be immortal, untouchable for either sickness or time, and still somehow manage to worry himself gray.


    It was part of the reason why the two of them couldn¡¯t work together, and part of why the man¡¯s choice of work was such a headache for her.


    When it came to other people, Clancy wasn¡¯t trusting enough to regularly give others his back. Which meant he generally worked alone, and thusly risked more harm coming to himself.


    When it came to her, he¡¯d fret so much that he couldn¡¯t focus. Which could sometimes lead to him making mistakes¡­.and thusly risked more harm coming to himself.


    Mid-way through, they ended up running into a crowd of living cyclops. Clancy probably would have sensed them if he hadn¡¯t splitting so much of his focus to be attentive to Anne.


    Anne probably would have sensed it she hadn¡¯t been distracted by a subtle shift that was going on inside her body.


    They ran into the group of cyclops, their fur spiked and matted, their turgid members standing stiff, sinister rods that jutted out from behind their loincloths.


    The beast¡¯s roared, frenzied at the sight of meat and a potential mate and Clancy prepared to blow them all away with a well timed concussive spell.


    Neither party was prepared for what actually happened. When a red eyed blur through itself into the midst of the crowd. Wrapping its, her, legs around the neck of the tallest of the group and sinking her teeth into the creature¡¯s neck. The cyclops¡¯ hot lust and fury being replaced by cold pain and fear.


    The creature¡¯s packmates tried to help it, only to knocked back, off their feet and into the air. Rebuffed by blasts of psychic force and painful blows from the red-eyed monster¡¯s, surprisingly stalwart, slender limbs.


    In the end Anne would kill them all, giving into the hunger that always lived inside of her. Her vice of gluttony and greed.


    ¡°Anne? Anne, are you okay?¡± said Clancy. Kneeling at his girlfriend''s side. Staring into her eyes, as he watched her dilated pupils slow return to normal.


    ¡°Huh? Er...y-, yeah. I¡¯m fine.¡± said Anne. Rising to her feet. Lying as she rolled her shoulder and worked to let a collar bone that had been broken in the ensuing struggle snap back into place.


    There were many reasons that Anne Ambrose, couldn¡¯t leave her home for more than a few hours at a time. That she had a harder time dealing with her extreme hunger than Clancy did, dealing with his extreme lust, was just another one of them.


    Even knowing this, she couldn¡¯t help feeling a little embarrassed, realizing that she¡¯d been too relaxed. Letting her guard down. She felt a chill as she imagined what might have happened had they not run into the cyclopes and the first warm bodies she¡¯d run into after leaving this place, had been human.


    As if he¡¯d looked into her mind and seen her troubled thoughts, Clancy slung his arm around the young woman¡¯s newly healed shoulder and pulled her towards him.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine...We still have that last dose of Amrita-9. We¡¯ll get you properly fed before we get out of here and then you¡¯ll be good again for another few weeks.¡±


    Anne nodded. Feeling numb. Sighing as she was reminded of exactly how much work the two of them had ahead of them. This incident confirming the necessity of the steps she was about to take to get them to their goals faster.

 16: Paperwork

    The most beautiful, most wonderful part of Clancy¡¯s life turned over in the bed they shared together, let off a crooked squeak. Turning back over again, afterwards, still snoring softly.


    Clancy being a proper gentleman pretended to neither hear, nor smell it, as he¡¯d done for the last ten plus years, since they¡¯d gotten to that level of comfort with each other. Whether they were living in cult barracks, or in a laboratory holding cell, or in the wild unknown lands of a monochrome world.


    He got out of bed soon after, his cell phone alarm clock announcing the end of their month off from the obligations and drudgery of the real world.


    Their vacation was over, but looking at how relaxed he felt, and how at ease she looked, her skin still glowing from her last feeding, he decided that he wouldn¡¯t drag his feet too long till finally taking her on their next one.


    Sometimes working too hard was counter-intuitive, like exercising a muscle into exhaustion and then failing to let it rest. Similarly, in the time that they¡¯d been together not rushing about trying to make ends meet, they¡¯d been able to raise their cultivation till they both in the eighth level of the Spiral realm. Just one away from the Palace Realm.


    A tremendous amount of progress, that for Clancy, was a tremendous amount of fun to get to.


    The jump in power filling his body with enough raw esoteric energy that it felt like he was on cusp of touching something that had been out of reach before. His handle on the flow of magical energy in his surroundings more sure than it had ever been before.


    His body¡¯s unique traits making his blood even more robust and powerful. Making it feel like he could bend steel bars with just his fingers. Making it feel like he could be reduced to a pile of bleeding meat and so long as his head was intact he¡¯d been back in action before the sun had set.


    The rise in their cultivation was both good and bad, since that meant that Anne¡¯s feedings would help her more, and count for more. Unfortunately, it also meant that he¡¯d need more to come back when she almost killed him with the feeding. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The growth in her power assuring that she still took the same portion of his vitality with each feeding. Leaving Clancy in a near dead state.


    Right off the top of his head, Clancy knew, that the most affordable restorative serums whose efficacy were high enough to still affect him, were all a minimum magnitude of five-to-ten times more expensive than Amrita-9.


    Which meant would be an even bigger concern from now on. However, Clancy, had decided to look on this positively, cultivation and growing as a sorcerer, were like mountain climbing. Things naturally got steeper, and more difficult the higher you went, but that was just part of making progress. Four ranks in four weeks time, was definitely making progress. A monstrous and unprecedented level of progress that had Clancy feeling more sure of the likelihood of him, and his lover actually surviving this whole mess.


    With that cheery thought, he bathed, and dressed, getting ready to meet the day. Leaving a hot pot of coffee in the coffee machine, and a plate of freshly made waffles with cream and whipped sugar, for Anne to wake up to.


    *****


    Clancy drove over to the city of Fontaine¡¯s Foundation Offices. Once he was inside the build he headed up to the third floor for the first time, not sure what to expect.


    A few butterflies flew around in his stomach, making him wonder if this was what it¡¯d be like to have had to meet new people in primary school, had he ever gone to normal primary school and not just spent his younger days being taught everything that the cult and his father had thought a future god would need to know.


    Instead of the big liquid-crystal request wall, and queues, that were on the lower floors there were desks, with people sitting in them. Desks with two sets of placards, one belonging to the owner of the desk, the Foundation¡¯s Administrative Coordinator, the so-called clerics of the Prospero Foundation, and one belonging to the field agent that the cleric was assigned to work with.


    Clancy¡¯s Cleric was a woman with mousy, young, woman with wispy red hair, and glasses. Looking stressed and nervous at the same time.


    ¡°Hi¡­¡± said Clancy. Giving her a wide smile, while proffering his hand. Determined to make a good impression.


    ¡°Hiee!?...I, uh...I mean...Hi, good morning how are you? Mr¡­.Ambrose.¡± said the excitable woman. Stopping mid-way through to glance at the other placard on the desk.


    ¡°Good morning¡­.Ms.Webber.¡± said Clancy. Taking at a look at ¡°her¡± placard, and then waggling his eyebrows to make light of the act. Hoping to cut the thick tension they were both feeling with some humor.


    The woman just flushed. Which made Clancy unsure whether it worked. By his reckoning he¡¯d either just embarrassed her, or pissed her off, which was a fail either way.


    ¡°Er...right. Well, please sit down¡­ and we can...uh...we can get things started.¡± said the cleric. Shifting things around on her desk till there was only single stack of folders left.


    With the topmost folder being taken off the stack for Clancy to read through, while she explained how things would work now that he was serving as directly contracted agent for the Foundation.

 17: Mayor

    Clancy Ambrose stood at the balcony of squat brown concrete building in the small town of Donnybrook, New Mexico.


    A small town in the south-eastern quarter of the state, with a population that was a little under fifty thousand. Famous for ghost sightings in the same way that its neighbor Roswell was famous for aliens.


    He glared upwards at the roiling black clouds that had gathered over the town, joining together into a singular mass of black steel wool. Drumming his fingers against the railing of the balcony.


    There was a sense of dread, that was slowly building up inside of him, a sense of ominous certainty that was growing with each passing second.


    Clancy, and Francis, his new Cleric, were both puzzled, and a little troubled to find that there was only one assignment open to him. He, of course was instantly suspicious, Francis on the other hand was merely confused.


    They made him a mayor. Clancy Ambrose was now Mayor of Donnybrook New Mexico. Mayor for life even, or until he let the contract run out...or until there was no town.


    The town was unincorporated, and was run privately, with the state of New Mexico having disavowed it for various...reasons.


    Its governance had been entrusted into the hands of the Prospero Foundation, and the UN Council, who both took interest in the town for a variety of equally vague and worrisome rationales.


    The job was a cushy one, on paper it amounted to Clancy simply keeping an eye on things and occasionally assisting the local Sheriffs when it came to dealing with the town''s more anomalous population.


    In practice, it would mean just hanging back and serving as an observer, and it was that little detail that had the hairs in the back of Clancy¡¯s neck rising.


    What exactly was he meant to be observing? What was so important that the foundation was posting someone like himself here? Posting people on a near indefinite notice.


    If something looked like a set up, and smelled like a setup, Clancy was pretty sure it was a set up. He¡¯d told Anne as much before moving some of his stuff out to the mayoral McMansion, a tacky, overly ostentatious dwelling that had been built over a fairly sturdy military bunker.


    She¡¯d just told him to hang on for a bit while she got some things set up for him, so he could better take advantage of the situation.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    He¡¯d told her he was definitely sure that this was probably some kind of trap. Predicting that all this was some Fun with Dick and Jane nonsense., where things were going to go terribly wrong and he¡¯d be left with a mess in his hands. Standing as the fall guy, for after whatever went wrong had passed, and it was time to hand the blame out.


    Anne had responded by saying she was absolutely certain that this was what was going to happen but then smiled, gave him a kiss on the lips and told him to go anyway.


    He¡¯d asked how she knew, and she said she¡¯d asked around using the usual means, and then asked ¡°Howard¡± about it. Howard Goulding, Her estranged father who worked on the UN Council.


    Clancy had taken one look at her, and had instantly known that this was at least partially part of her plan. If not she would never have gone to Howard about it.


    Anne hated her own father almost as much as she hated Clancy¡¯s, and she hated Clancy¡¯s father enough that the two of them had a pack going where Clancy would be perfectly okay with her smothering the bastard in the crib if she ever figured out time travel.


    She insisted she wasn¡¯t responsible for making things happen this way, this was apparently all a ¡°happy accident¡±. Still, he knew that she¡¯d at least been responsible for letting them happen.


    He suspected she¡¯d known he was being plotted against before he did. Just like she knew about everything else before he got around to finding out.


    Which meant he was slightly annoyed that she hadn¡¯t warned him first...though it was entirely possible she¡¯d played dirty pool and just told him while he was¡­.distracted. The dam of his will having been allowed to drop, his full attention, and every sense focused on every inch of every curve of her body.


    She could be tricky that way when she wanted to play cute...which was a common cause of arguments between the two of them.


    He was the reckless one, she was the tricky one. Sometimes it worked well between them, other times they got on each other nerves.


    Though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure how coming to this town was connected to their goals, Clancy decided to take things in stride.


    This was actually pretty mild for his girlfriend¡¯s scheming and it seemed to concern something significant enough for the scheming to be justified. He had no clue why she hadn¡¯t run it by him first but that was just sort of her way.


    Besides, even if she had warned him, it likely wouldn¡¯t have changed anything, because the Prospero Foundations contracts were like loose fighting admantine manacles. Unrestricting yet near inescapable.


    With the exception of Clancy doing something rash to escape, even if he¡¯d known what was coming he¡¯d have still needed to willing walk into whatever this situation was and gauge things personally.


    Clancy¡¯s best guess was that she intended to have the two of them try and snatch chestnuts from an open fire. Collecting benefits despite knowing that someone out there was trying to play some games with them.


    Clancy thought it a risky idea, he could pretty much punch and spell his way, through anything, but this seemed like it was going end up bigger than that. Something on a scale that he¡¯d never had to handle before.


    However, since he¡¯d agreed to abide with this grand working that she seemed intent on pulling together for their sakes, he went along with her plans.


    Thus here he was, settling in for what was his first, and possibly last job as a Foundation Elite. Hoping all this didn¡¯t blow up in their faces.


    He wouldn¡¯t be here if he didn¡¯t trust his girlfriend¡¯s judgement, and since he was here he figured he might as well make some preparations. Starting those preparations, by getting ready for his new job and getting used the little town he¡¯d be calling home for the foreseeable future.

 Not a Chapter - Not a Hiatus either...but

    So...hi guys, I''ve got some bad news. I''m starting UNI again, and its one of those ballbreaker programs. I''m definitely "not" I repeat "not" giving up on this story, like at all...like at all, at all, but updates are gonna be super sporadic till I get some breathing room, since right now things have just started and it already feels like I''m treading water here.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Most of the slow down is down to the fact, all my writing will be on the weekends which will probably be the only time I have freetime, but of course I''ll have other RL stuff too, which means consistently writing mulitple stories isn''t someting I can really do anymore.


    I''m really sorry about this, and thank you to all who''ve been reading up till now. You guys are awesome, and I appreciate the hell out of each and everyone of you.