ã€ŠIntriomancer: The Sanctity of Waterã€‹


 Ch. 1 - An Unwanted Meeting

    The city sleeps, a hive pacified by darkness. A sea of glass, sharpened edges, and dancing lights stretches to the horizon. Silence is a lost solace¡ªthe air thrums with noise of all kinds. The cacophony ebbs and flows to the tune of an unseen conductor. Buildings rise towards a sky dominated by the emerald moon and countless stars. I have never felt at ease here. There is something fundamentally lacking, perhaps within my soul. There is a rot in this city I cannot abide. The smell barely subsides at night and is unbearable in the day¡¯s heat. I haven¡¯t left my room in several years now. If I spend too much time here on the balcony, my throat tightens, and my lungs ache with each new breath. It¡¯s the price I pay to gaze into the sky. To see it there, suspended above, with my own eyes is proof it¡¯s real. The Emerald Moon. My salvation. If I keep my head down and stick to the plan, I will be rid of this place and these people. I¡¯ll finally have it. Peace.

    The smell is becoming too much, and I must retreat. I close the door and listen for the click of the lock. The glass goes black, shutting out the nearby buildings¡¯ lights and returning my room to relative comfort. The soft light from my rig¡¯s screen casts a blue-gray glow over the room. I sit back down, easing into the chair gingerly. My body is already paying me back for the exertion of my little guilty pleasure. The pain dulls and then dissipates like ink washed away by water as the rig plugs back into my ports. The machine is efficient, instantly scanning every bio-metric and feeding a new cocktail of fluids intravenously. Painkillers, hydration, and nutrition all in one. A sweet, tangy taste fills my mouth as it becomes easier to breathe again. The ads say this new flavor is supposed to be freshly picked gelmberries. Imported flavors from The Emerald Moon are very popular. At least it doesn¡¯t look strange on my credit report.

    The main port locks into place with a final click and a familiar jolt of current. My rig reclines and the world around me grows darker as my senses are disconnected individually. Color drains last, and then the world around me disappears. There is one weightless moment before the drop. I¡¯ll never get used to the sensation of falling in the dark. The momentum stops, and I am blinded as my eyes open. My senses return, and my entire body feels like bare skin exposed to frigid air.

    ¡°Welcome back, sir. You¡¯ve been unintegrated for thirty-three minutes. A new record. Would you like a status update?¡± asks a woman. Her voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere.

    ¡°No, Vila, just show me what¡¯s on the agenda.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sir. We¡¯ve been tasked with several partitions today. I suggest dispatching ersatz three and four to finish the Trevilli project.¡±

    ¡°Three and four?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. The timetable has been moved up.¡±

    ¡°Of course it has. Fine. Send both. What else?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve wrapped up the last loose ends for Klinman.¡±

    ¡°Good. We¡¯ve received payment?¡±

    ¡°Ah, Well...about that.¡±

    ¡°If he¡¯s pitching another ¡®priceless opportunity¡¯ as compensation, I¡¯m not interested. Tell him I¡¯m sending CCS if the account isn¡¯t fully settled by the deadline.¡±

    ¡°Message sent, sir. There is one other matter that requires your immediate attention.¡±

    A wave of dread washed over me.

    ¡°Go on.¡± I prodded.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been asked to attend a meeting with Ms. Caligo.¡±

    ¡°When?¡±

    ¡°The summons was marked as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°Fuck¡±

    ¡°Should I ask for a recess?¡±

    ¡°No. I can¡¯t slip past this a third time,¡± I muttered. ¡°Transfer me to a free Incarnum and connect me to the office.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. Good luck.¡± Vila said.

    I barely heard Vila¡¯s last words. My mind had already turned to the trial ahead. I was weightless again and falling fast. There is little to describe the unsettling feeling of integrated travel. You aren¡¯t a body experiencing the feeling; you are the feeling. The raw sensation of movement ended abruptly as I incarnated inside a vast and familiar antechamber. A plush burgundy rug stretched ahead, marking a path toward double doors. The floor and walls were sleek silver-gray, covered in sconces that gave off a pale neon-red glow. The path to the doors was lined with large pillars made of multicolored glass. I could make out the slowly undulating forms of people inside. They drifted aimlessly within the glass, like a stream of souls tossed in an unseen current. The look on their faces reminded me of screaming. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was in pleasure, pain, or both.

    I went to the doors, desperately trying to gather my nerve. There weren¡¯t enough chemicals in existence to prepare me for these meetings. I raised a hand to the dark metal knocker and tapped it against the door several times. An audible click came as the doors opened inward, drawing me into Maria Caligo¡¯s office. I saw her draped over a massive couch at the room¡¯s far end. The doors closed and locked behind me once I entered the room. I was trapped now.

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    ¡°I wondered when I would be seeing you again, Elias. You seem ever so busy these days,¡± she said. Her voice carried across the empty room as if all other noise was afraid to be heard.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ms. Caligo. I¡¯ve been working on several projects lately. Multiple deadlines are coming up¡­¡± I said weakly. It wasn¡¯t a lie, but even a half-truth felt risky.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so serious, dear. Come, sit down,¡± Maria said, patting the red couch beside her.

    There was no room for refusal in her tone. I crossed the room as casually as I could manage and sat down on the couch on the opposite end of Maria. I turned to her and sat silent. She smiled and held out a hand towards me. A fluted glass materialized in her hand and filled itself with sparkling red liquid and several red and black colored berries.

    ¡°A little treat before business.¡± She said.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said as I reached for the glass. My fingers briefly brushed Maria¡¯s pale, porcelain hand as I took the glass, and a cold spark shot through me. I raised the glass to my lips and sipped. The taste was sweet and acidic all at once, yet somehow familiar.

    ¡°Divine, isn¡¯t it?¡± She said. ¡°A lovely import I¡¯ve taken to recently.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s very nice, yes,¡± I answered, my mind still grasping to identify the taste.

    ¡°If you visited more often, I could introduce you to all sorts of delicious things,¡± she said, her voice warm and breathy.

    I could feel the higher parts of my mind blinking out. Somewhere inside, a cage rattled as a beast gnashed at the bars. I took another drink and focused on the puckering of my mouth at the acid.

    ¡°I¡¯m under a lot of pressure, as I¡¯ve said.¡± I managed.

    ¡°Alas, you¡¯re right. So much to do and so little time for fun.¡± She said, her voice mercifully even. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me what you¡¯ve been up to?¡±

    ¡°Nothing out of the ordinary. I¡¯ve finished everything for Klinman, and the Trevilli account should be settled soon now that they¡¯ve moved the deadline.¡± I explained.

    ¡°They must be very impressed with your output to change the schedule.¡± She commented.

    ¡°Impressed or impatient,¡± I said, unable to mask the resentment in my tone.

    ¡°If you¡¯re not careful, you might show everyone how useful you are.¡± She teased.

    ¡°What a nightmare that would be,¡± I said, too truthful.

    ¡°No need to fret, dear. You have my protection in all things. So few could see your true value, and I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way. The best tools are the unassuming ones.¡± She said, too truthful.

    ¡°That¡¯s me. Unassuming.¡± I said, taking another drink.

    I felt her hand caress the side of my face. She made me meet her gaze and leaned a little closer. I stared into her eyes before I could realize my own folly. They were like two rubies, multifaceted and flecked with gold.

    ¡°You just need a special touch¡ªa seasoned professional to guide you. That¡¯s why I was asked to be your handler. I see your potential,¡± she assured me. I tried to speak, my lips parting briefly before she placed her finger over them to quiet me.

    ¡°Just relax and let me guide you. Follow my instructions, and make my word your gospel. I will see you fulfilled and sated,¡± she promised.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I spoke, my lips rubbing against her finger as I did.

    She ran her finger down my chin, letting it linger to keep my gaze. ¡°Good boy. Now, I need you to add something else to your schedule. A little¡­ ¡­extracurricular activity.¡±

    A protest grew in my mind and was nearly voiced before it died as her fingernail dug into the soft skin under my chin. I remained silent and listened.

    ¡°It will be easy, dear, and lucrative. We all need more padding for our accounts these days, right? I¡¯ll give your Vila the details,¡± she said. ¡°In the meantime, I have a personal request for you.¡±

    ¡°¡­What is it?¡± I spoke, little more than a whisper.

    She removed her finger from my chin and stood from the couch in one graceful motion. ¡°Pick my dress for the gala tonight.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a stylist,¡± I explained.

    ¡°Which is why I want your eye.¡± She said, waving a hand out in front of her. A large folding screen of red and black lacquered wood appeared, and she stepped behind it. I took one last drink, and the glass disappeared from my hand, sublimating into nothingness. She made a show of the affair, draping the silver dress she had been wearing over the top of the screen. This was an incarnated space; she could have changed her clothes with the snap of a finger, but that was not as fun as torturing me this way.

    ¡°I thought of you when I picked this out. I want you to tell me what you think. Be honest.¡± She implored, her voice demure.

    She stepped out from behind the screen slowly, letting her bare leg precede her. The dress was pale maroon. Two thin straps held it on her bare shoulders; the fabric flowed down her svelte frame like a stream of silken water. It was cut at her mid-thigh, accentuating her long and shapely legs. She had done her jet-black hair into a messy bun. Her matching heels clicked against the stone floor as she turned to show another angle. She faced away from me, one hand on her hip as she turned her head to stare at me with one eye.

    ¡°Well, what do you think?¡±

    She hadn¡¯t thought of me when she chose that dress. She had been thinking of how to stop my heart with a look. I don¡¯t know how long I sat in silent awe before managing to speak.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to get everything you could ever want in that dress,¡± I said.

    Her lips curled up into a satisfied smirk.

    ¡°Not everything,¡± she said as her gaze lingered on me longer. She waved her hand to the folding screen, which faded away in response.

    ¡°Send word once you¡¯ve finished your little task. I¡¯ll have something special for you once it¡¯s done.¡± She instructed.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said as I stood up from the couch. ¡°Thank you, Ms. Caligo.¡±

    The world around us began to fray at the edges. The room breaks apart, starting with the corners and working towards the center. Ending an incarnated space was a simple process that would send both parties back to their primary vessels. Maria crossed the distance between us as the threads unwound, giving way to a black, endless void. She put her arms over my shoulders and wrapped them around my neck as she pressed her body against mine. I stared into her eyes again. I felt no protection in my incarnated body. These weren¡¯t my real eyes, but she was still etching her way into my soul.

    ¡°One day, you¡¯ll find out exactly what you are, Elias.¡± She whispered.

    There was precious little space left in the room. A tiny mote of flooring at our feet remained as we stood together in our embrace. The outlines of our bodies began to break apart into bits and threads, floating away like flecks of dust and string in an unseen wind. My eyes lost focus and darkened as the incarnation ended. I saw Maria¡¯s lips move one last time, but I couldn¡¯t hear what she said. The light blinked out, and I was falling again.

 Ch. 2 - A Dealers Gamble

    ¡°Welcome back, sir, I hope your meeting went well,¡± Vila said. I opened my eyes in the relative darkness of my room and looked around slowly, trying to readjust to real sight. Moving from the clarity and precision of incarnated spaces to this was jarring, to say the least.

    ¡°Run a disinfection cycle, Vila,¡± I instructed. I couldn¡¯t shake this feeling of being filthy.

    ¡°The last cycle ran fifty-six minutes ago, sir; you are well within sanitation standards¡­¡±

    ¡°Run the cycle,¡± I repeated, unable to keep the annoyance from my tone.

    ¡°Of course. I apologize, sir!¡± Vila spoke worriedly. My rig began to churn as the sounds of the cleaning attachment kicked in. A slot opened in the machine above my chest, and a small spout protruded and pointed at me before beginning to spray. A delicate-looking gossamer shroud flowed over my head first and moved to cover the rest of my body. Once the shroud covered me completely, it began to glow with sterile white light. I closed my eyes and waited. My body tingled lightly for a few minutes as the tiny machines within the shroud picked me over and scoured my body.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to interrupt you, sir, but you¡¯ve received new messages while you¡¯ve been away,¡± Vila said cautiously.

    ¡°Maria told me she sent details for some new off-the-record task,¡± I said. "I¡¯ll go over it sometime later¡­¡± I¡¯d had my fill of Ms. Caligo for the time being.

    ¡°No sir, this is from ersatz three and four. They¡¯re convinced that the target has been located.¡±

    ¡°Already?¡± I said, just barely fighting the urge to sit up in surprise. ¡°How did they find one Orgiastic so quickly down there?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ The report suggests that it isn¡¯t a single target, sir.¡± Vila said, her voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°Connect me to three and four. Now.¡± I ordered.

    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± Vila answered. I closed my eyes as they went dark and was drawn into a new incarnated space. I sat in a large rotating black chair atop a raised circular platform. Lining the outside of the platform were dark wooden tables that formed a complete circle around me. There were dozens of empty chairs around the table to accommodate any size meeting. The space only stretched a few feet from the table before fading into a fuzzy gray void.

    Several displays materialized before me, including large and detailed three-dimensional models of some pieces of the lower city. Several points of interest were highlighted and scrawled with notes. Three and four had been busy while I was away. They hadn¡¯t had to look far from the coordinates we were given by Trevelli to find signs of what we were hunting. As I reviewed the report, it became painfully clear that we had been denied critical information.

    ¡°Did you get our report, boss?¡± a voice asked behind me. I turned the chair to see two men who looked exactly like me sitting at the table below. Three and four had finally arrived.

    ¡°Are you sure all this is accurate?¡± I asked. I made a short, waving gesture at the displays, which caused them to move between Three, Four, and I.

    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± said four. ¡°I think it¡¯s a proper cyst at this point. The entire habitation segment is infected.¡±

    ¡°Why would they wait so long to bring us in for this?¡± Three asked.

    ¡°The reason doesn¡¯t matter anymore. We have a bigger problem now. It¡¯s our job to deal with this. We¡¯ll send the D.I.C.E to gut Trevelli and its subsidiaries later.¡± I promised.

    ¡°We are going to need more than ersatz for this.¡± Four said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Bring in one and two, and we might clear this cyst on our own,¡± three offered.

    ¡°No. We¡¯re not being given a choice here. It has to be a proper Incarnum.¡± I said.

    ¡°Who are we going to send?¡± Four asked. ¡°Kearn?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather not leave this to chance,¡± I said.

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡± Three muttered in disbelief.

    ¡°He has to be let off the leash at some point,¡± I explained.

    ¡°Not when we¡¯re staring down an infection like this. There¡¯s too much at stake!¡± Four spoke as his voice raised and his temper flared.

    ¡°We have no way to know the condition of everyone inside that hab boss. There could be uninfected civilians taking shelter. Sending Isbrand alone is just going to put them in more danger!¡± Three implored me.

    Three and four were right; I could see it plainly in their words. This was the benefit of using an ersatz. Breaking off a piece of your psyche and letting it operate autonomously offered a new perspective when it mattered most. However, it didn¡¯t help if one was determined to make an insane decision.

    ¡°I never said I was sending him alone,¡± I countered.

    ¡°And who do you think you¡¯re going to get to work with him?¡± Four asked, incredulous.

    ¡°There¡¯s only one person I can trust to incarnate with Isbrand,¡± I stated. ¡°Myself.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re out of your mind!¡± Four shouted now, sticking an accusatory finger in my direction.

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    ¡°Technically, I¡¯m well within my own mind,¡± I said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fuck with me!¡± Four roared. ¡°I go down with you if this goes badly! We all do!¡±

    ¡°Then we all know the stakes,¡± I said.

    ¡°Boss. We¡¯re with you, you know that. But this is a big risk. Do we really need to do it like this?¡± Three asked.

    I pondered the question silently, looking up into the darkness over my head. Why did I need to do this? The civilians were a part of it. I couldn¡¯t just let them go without trying, could I? The simple solution was staring me in the face. Purge the entire habitation section down to the last iota of Orgias taint. It was quick, clean, and guaranteed the infection wouldn¡¯t spread. It was the easy way.

    ¡°I¡¯m bringing back one and two to join us. We reintegrate and incarnate alongside Isbrand to keep him in line.¡± I declared. Four released a long, defeated sigh and hung his face in his hands. Three nodded but could not hide the trepidation from his face.

    ¡°Finish your reports and log them to Vila. I¡¯ll send the summons to one and two now. I expect they¡¯ll be ready within hours. We¡¯ll meet in the garage and launch Isbrand from there.¡±

    ¡°What are you going to do in the meantime?¡± Three asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll go and see Jakob, run him through Isbrand¡¯s last in-action footage, and see if he has any suggestions before we make our play,¡± I said.

    ¡°He¡¯s going to call you insane, too,¡± Four interjected.

    ¡°Knowing Jakob, that would be the least of my problems,¡± I said earnestly. ¡°You have your orders. Let¡¯s stop wasting time.¡±

    Three and four stood from their seats and left without another word. They turned and walked out into the gray static void around us. I closed my eyes and disconnected from the space. Vila was waiting for me back in my room.

    ¡°Welcome back again, sir. I¡¯ve sent your orders to one and two and readied a request to meet with Mr. Jakob,¡± she informed me.

    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll be compiling Isbrand¡¯s footage while we wait for Jakob. Don¡¯t bother me for anything of less importance,¡± I said, settling back against my rig and reaching out mentally for the needed files.

    ¡°Of course, sir, please let me know if I can help,¡± Vila said.

    ¡°Not for this, Vila. You¡¯re better left out of it.¡± I responded.

    ¡°If you¡¯re sure,¡± she said, trying to mask the concern in her voice.

    ¡°I am. Thank you, Vila.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Elias.¡±

    I waited a few moments before viewing the footage to ensure Vila was disconnected. It was better to spare her from seeing certain aspects of my work for D.I.C.E. The fewer people subjected to the things I¡¯ve seen, the better. She¡¯d never have to thank me for it, but it was a small gift she deserved for all her hard work.

    I poured over every minute of the recordings from Isbrand. I¡¯d only ever used him in situations that were a lost cause with little chance of capturing the Impulsate alive. He had seen action twice since his creation. It took me a month of deliberation and several meetings with Maria to decide if I could maintain his presence within my psyche. I¡¯m not sure I had the choice back then or now. One cannot cut away the flaws in one¡¯s own soul. I opened the recording of the last time Isbrand had been in action. It was nearly incomprehensible viewing it through the screen. Isbrand¡¯s mind cared little for detail and good memory. I let out a small sigh and closed my eyes, incarnating inside the recording space for a better view.

    The target was an Indolent, a particularly loathsome Impulsate becoming more common daily. It doesn¡¯t take much for a person to succumb to the call of inaction. When they reach a certain point, they break. The degenerative rot inside them blooms, and a new Impulsate is born; they become a twisted expression of their unsatisfied desires. The lethargy around an Indolent is so oppressive that it can glaciate its surroundings. Isbrand walked down a narrow hallway filled with floating crystals of ice. Pipes had burst from the low temperature, and icicles dangled from the walls and ceiling like gnashing fangs. I stopped the recording and changed my view, stepping out from Isbrand¡¯s body and looking around the hallway. He had been entirely alone that day. The office block where the Indolent was nesting had been evacuated when the incident began. The civilians made it out frostbitten but alive. I turned to look at Isbrand; this was about evaluating his effectiveness in the operation.

    Isbrand loomed in the hallway, nearly tall enough to scrape the ceiling with its shoulders. The metallic frame of his body was oriented forward and low to the ground, allowing him to walk on four of his six limbs. The extremities he used for locomotion terminated in three clawed digits, one facing back and two to the front. The last two limbs were attached to his back and were much more slender than the other four. Each of those two limbs ended in a hand with five digits. There was no proper head on Isbrand¡¯s frame. In its place was a prismatic dome of glass that glowed red from the center. The dome seemed to turn and pivot as the light danced inside, a clear sign that Isbrand was scanning the surrounding area.

    The hulking metal Incarnum moved past me with a grace and precision that belied his indelicate body. I watched as he neared the end of the hall and began to scan over a door more stricken with frost than all the others. I moved to follow, stopped by a tremendous crashing peal of sound and force as Isbrand ripped through the door and part of the wall in a single blow. A wave of freezing air escaped from the room Isbrand had broken into; this was obviously the Indolent¡¯s nest. I paused the recording again, stepping through the wall and into the nest. The space had once been a processing unit; the remains of many rows of cramped rigs were apparent even beneath the layers of ice. Hundreds of people could have spent years-long shifts connected to a more extensive processing hivemind rented to whoever could afford it. If you aren¡¯t suited for more complex tasks, this is where you end up. Before the advent of shift limits, these office spaces were notorious for spawning all manner of Impulsates, especially Indolents.

    In the far corner of the room was a horrific sight. The Indolent was huddled on the ground in a fetal position. Whatever it had been before was gone. Its black and brown mottled skin was pulled tight against its bones. Bursting out from its chest and intertwined with pieces of its mummified flesh was a separate torso of light blue ice. The Indolent was pulling itself out of the remains of its old body, climbing a pillar of ice that had formed above it. A hollow alcove near the top of the pillar looked just big enough for someone to curl themselves inside and sleep.

    I let the recording play and watched Isbrand work. He tore through the room headlong, crashing through the frozen equipment, scattering it to cold ruin. The Indolent turned to face him, raising an icy hand in what looked to be a plea for mercy. It was still in the early stages of its gestation and lacked defenses beyond the cold. That would not save it from Isbrand. A metal-clawed hand clamped down around the Indolent, ripping it from the floor like a weed. The Indolent made a sound like warping and cracking ice as it screamed in pain. Isbrand¡¯s only answer was to slam it down onto the floor several times, grinding it ruthlessly with each blow. As the strange, otherworldly cries of the Indolent died, Isbrand raised his hand one last time. He held an oval object made of blackened and cracked ice. The red light of his ¡®eye¡¯ scanned over the object. When the scan finished, he tucked the object into his slender back limbs and turned to leave the office.

    I stopped the footage there and walked over to Isbrand. I recalled this moment well. He would not have spared the Indolent¡¯s core if I hadn¡¯t monitored everything directly during the operation. I had felt his desire that day¡ªthe need to unmake something.

    This was the shame I carried in my heart.

    Not that Isbrand existed.

    But that I loved it.

 Ch. 3 - This Body Is Just A Vehicle

    I spent the better part of an hour examining the recordings of Isbrand. Much of it was unusable or useless, but I still cobbled together a proper exhibition. I was making a final pass to add notes when I received a communication ping. I opened my eyes, slipping out of incarnated space. A small blinking light was in the corner of my vision, an indicator of my waiting correspondence. A square display appeared there next, bearing the name Jakob. I reached out to open the message. The smiling visage of a bespectacled man greeted me.

    ¡°Nice to see you haven¡¯t rotted away up there, buddy,¡± Jakob said. ¡°Your pretty little assistant told me you¡¯ve got something urgent to discuss!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, too, Jakob,¡± I said, rolling my eyes to one side. ¡°I¡¯d love to have our usual back-and-forth, but there is an actual problem I need your help with.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. I¡¯ll let you off this time. What¡¯s got you all hot and bothered?¡± Jakob asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing I can talk about over an unprotected connection. We need to meet face-to-face,¡± I said.

    ¡°Ooh, intimate,¡± Jakob said, stifling a laugh.

    ¡°So, can I come down there or not?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Just gotta tidy up a bit. I¡¯ll see you when you get here,¡± Jakob said.

    ¡°Good. We¡¯ll talk soon,¡± I said, ending the call.

    I willed my rig to sit upright and disconnected the cables from my ports. I listened to the series of depressurized clicks as each cable released from my body and withdrew into the machine. I ran my hand over the metal disks embedded in my arm and shoulder and let out a groan. Disconnecting always made them sore. I stood up from the rig, balancing on the arm of the seat as I found steadiness on my feet.

    ¡°Vila, open the storage for my Proxy,¡± I said, taking a few shaky steps toward an indented space in the nearby wall.

    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± Vila chimed. The indent in the wall started to rotate. The mechanism hummed lightly before the wall split down the middle and opened to reveal a space inside. A humanoid figure stood in the recess, silent and still. Its body was made of a smooth, translucent material with an off-white color. I reached behind the figure, feeling around its neck for the connection cable. My fingers brushed cold metal, and I took hold, pulling the cable out and getting a better hold on the connector. I held the cable close to the port on the underside of my wrist. It moved independently, snaking into my body through the port. I willed the Proxy to activate and watched the machine step quickly out of its charging station in the wall. The Proxy turned to me and bowed its head slowly.

    ¡°Standby for transfer,¡± I instructed. The Proxy raised its head and nodded. I disconnected the cable from my wrist and returned to my rig. I sat down and got plugged in before incarnating inside the Proxy. One moment, I was back in my rig, and now I was standing near the wall. Incarnating over a short distance could be jarring.

    The Proxy was a serviceable body to inhabit. It couldn¡¯t match the smooth, seamless feel of a proper Incarnum, but it served its purpose. I walked over to my real body in the rig, readjusting to the Proxy¡¯s mechanical limbs. The difference in strength was always what threw me off the most. I looked down at myself through the camera nestled in the center of the Proxy¡¯s head. My skin was a pale, fleshy brown. I had long, unkempt, dark brown hair that fell to my neck. My cheeks were covered by a thin and patchy mess of facial hair. Whenever I looked at myself, I could only think one thing: you¡¯re frail.

    I tore myself away from navel-gazing and headed to the door of my room. I stood frozen at the precipice, unable to reach out and open it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this,¡± I chastised myself. I wasn¡¯t actually leaving. I would still be right here in my room. I stared at the door for a moment before allowing it to open. The door slid aside, revealing a well-lit hallway. I leaned my head out into the hall, steadying myself against the door frame. The area was mercifully empty. I waited a little longer to ensure I was alone before stepping out into the hall and closing the door to my room. I stopped to signal the door to lock and quickly shuffled down the hallway to the row of elevators at the far end. I stood waiting for an elevator to arrive; the sensors had picked me up already and called one of the many platforms to my floor. I was only a few stories down from the top, which made for a torturous wait. I looked around absently, unsure where to rest my gaze. Everything about the building was utilitarian and efficient, a sea of gray, charcoal, and eggshell white that blended together. It had been chosen for me by Maria and paid for on her credit, so there was little room to complain. What this place lacked in aesthetics was compensated by isolation. I didn¡¯t know the exact number of tenets, but they had to be below average. It was close to five years since I had been living here, and I had only been subjected to personal interactions a handful of times.

    I was caught off guard when the elevator doors slid open. It was unoccupied, much to my relief. I stepped inside and waited for the doors to slide shut behind me.

    ¡°Lobby,¡± I said. A small display window near the door lit up, showing my current position in the building and the now descending elevator. ¡°Switch to a clear view,¡± I instructed. The elevator walls changed, becoming transparent and offering me a view of the city as I went down. The city stretched out farther than my eyes could see in each direction. Everywhere I looked was a teeming mass of lights and movement. I was being lowered into hell. I turned my gaze back up into the sky, towards salvation. My time was cut short as the walls lost transparency, and the elevator slowed to a stop.

    The doors slid open, and I stepped out into the main lobby of the building. It was empty save for one man stationed in a cubicle near the middle of the room. He was dressed in a drab silver uniform and raised a hand to greet me as I slowly approached.

    ¡°Good evening; how can I help you?¡± He asked, his tone formal and even.

    ¡°I need to arrange transport for one. Bill it to suite two-twelve,¡± I said. The man nodded and looked down at a screen on his desk.

    ¡°Of course, Mr. Caldburn. An RPAC will be here to collect you shortly. Is there anything else I can help you with?¡± The man asked.

    ¡°Nothing else, thanks. I¡¯ll just wait outside,¡± I said.

    ¡°Have a pleasant night,¡± he said, returning to the screen on his desk. I turned and walked to the front doors, heading outside to the platform. I had disabled the olfactory sense of this Proxy unit ages ago. I didn¡¯t even want to imagine the strength of the odor outside. I turned my mind off it to watch for my ride instead.

    Minutes later, a vehicle drew closer to the platform and landed. It was shaped like a teardrop with a flat underside and made of smooth black metal. A door into the cab slid open, and a small display lit up with my name on the side. I walked to the RPAC and climbed inside. The interior was built for spaciousness and comfort. I sat in one of several plush chairs and watched the door close.

    ¡°Welcome aboard, Sir. Where are you heading?¡± a mechanical voice asked, its tone modulated towards happy subservience. RPACs like this were piloted remotely through incarnation.

    ¡°Take me to these coordinates,¡± I said, mentally transferring the location of Jakob¡¯s building.

    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± the pilot responded. The cab lifted into the air in near silence; its only sound was a steady, low humming from the underside. ¡°Given current traffic and weather patterns along our route, we have an ETA of fourteen minutes.¡±

    ¡°The faster, the better,¡± I said absently, staring into the city through the large side windows.

    ¡°Would you like some entertainment or music, sir? We have a large selection of¡­¡± The voice started, but I quickly cut it off.

    ¡°No. I want things quiet.¡± I interrupted. The pilot went silent in response. The city sailed past at a dizzying pace as the trip progressed. We dropped level after level as the lights from buildings, advertisements, and other RPACs blurred together haphazardly. The corridors between the buildings and pathways closed around us as we descended into the lower city. Even inside the cab, I could start to feel a sense of uncomfortable nearness to everything. People were packed together so tightly here. I couldn¡¯t fathom how they managed it. They must have been a more substantial sort than I.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The RPAC finally arrived at Jakob¡¯s building, landing on a tiny sliver of a platform compared to where we had departed. The door slid open and waited for me to disembark. A large crowd was outside, walking in different directions along the surrounding pathways. I realized I was taking an inordinate amount of time to leave the cab. I had work to do. Important work. I needed to get up.

    ¡°¡­ Sir? Is there a problem?¡± The pilot asked. It was enough to break me from my hesitation.

    ¡°No. Wait for me on the platform.¡± I said, finally lifting myself out of my chair and climbing out the door. The door slid closed, and the display on the cab read ¡®Standby Mode.¡¯ I turned from the cab and walked towards Jakob¡¯s building, doing my best to avoid others in my path. I made it to the front door and stepped inside. The lobby here was nothing like my own. It was cramped and looked like it was in desperate need of cleaning. I stepped over to a small kiosk display on the wall and used it to look up Jakob¡¯s room number. It was one of the innumerable things about the world out there I had forgotten.

    I walked down the long corridor of the building for several minutes before I reached Jakob¡¯s door and knocked lightly. I could hear a shuffling from inside the room, and then the door slid aside. Jakob stood in the door frame with a sour expression.

    ¡°Well, this is typical. You get me all excited and make me clean and reorganize around here, thinking you¡¯re showing up in the flesh!¡± He exclaimed, throwing up a hand in mock exasperation. ¡°But the best you can muster is a junk model Proxy.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky I came down here at all. My junk Proxy is the only thing for miles that doesn¡¯t need fumigating.¡± I spat back. Jakob let out a throaty chuckle and smiled, stepping aside from the door to let me in.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you fucking prig. Get in here,¡± he said. ¡°You should upgrade from that model, though; it¡¯s been recalled a dozen-odd times.¡±

    ¡°And deprive you the privilege of repairing it? Never.¡± I said, walking into Jakob¡¯s room. The size of this place always struck me when I visited. There was barely enough room for a single bed, a table, two chairs, and a small chair in the corner attached to several machines that made up Jakob¡¯s rig. I walked to one of the chairs at the table and sat down. Jakob followed suit and sat across from me.

    ¡°Alright, alright, let¡¯s have this urgent conversation you need. What¡¯s going on?¡± He asked, leaning back in his chair.

    ¡°I need you to review some footage I¡¯ve compiled from Isbrand¡¯s mission logs. Tell me if anything can be improved in an immediate time frame. With particular emphasis on combat efficiency and control,¡± I explained.

    ¡°I mean, I can do that, but I don¡¯t see why that constitutes all this secrecy,¡± He prodded.

    ¡°It¡¯s D.I.C.E business. Suffice to say, I¡¯ve been backed into a corner, and Isbrand is the only solution I can see.¡±

    ¡°Leave it to a Dealer to get himself into a shit show. That¡¯s practically your entire job description, right?¡± Jakob said, unable to suppress a smirk.

    ¡°It does come with the territory,¡± I admitted. ¡°That doesn¡¯t change the fact that I could use your help.¡±

    ¡°Ok, ok, but only because you appealed to my kind and hospitable nature,¡± Jakob said, standing from the table and walking over to his makeshift rig. ¡°Just connect to the spare port and give me the footage,¡± he said. I stood and brought a chair to his side, sitting down and connecting a spare cable to the Proxy¡¯s port. The connection was solid, and the transfer took mere moments.

    ¡°How long do you need?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Oh, this old girl might not be easy on the eyes, but she¡¯s a powerhouse. I¡¯ll futz with the time perception settings a bit. Five minutes should give me an hour or so to review it,¡± Jakob said.

    ¡°Is that safe for you?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Hey, hey, I might not be Mr. Top-of-the-class incarnation score, but I can hold my own. Do you want my help or not?¡± He asked, feigning indignation.

    ¡°By all means, please, it¡¯s your gray matter to torch,¡± I said.

    ¡°Then sit tight,¡± Jakob said, connecting a cable to the single port in his neck and closing his eyes. I was left to sit alone as Jakob worked. I appreciated his help, but a part of me was still worried about him. Psyche overload in a rig was commonplace, and the results were never pretty. In the best of cases, you became catatonic. Most weren¡¯t that lucky, ending up in the express lane to becoming an Impulsate. There were only two options after that; death or exile.

    The minutes stretched on as my fears mounted. After what felt like a dangerous amount of time, Jakob finally opened his eyes and disconnected from the rig. He groaned and rubbed both his temples gingerly.

    ¡°Fuck, I think I flash-fried a few circuits for that one,¡± Jakob complained.

    ¡°I tried to warn you,¡± I said. It was my turn to smirk.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Piss off,¡± Jakob said, standing from the chair and stretching.

    ¡°So what¡¯s the word?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how more combat efficient you can make that monstrosity,¡± Jakob said.

    ¡°I¡¯m leaning more towards the control issue,¡± I admitted.

    ¡°Right, right. You need a leash and a strong one at that.¡± Jakob said.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I said.

    ¡°The way I see it, you¡¯ve got two good options,¡± Jakob started. ¡°Number one, and my personal recommendation, you feed the beast before the operation so it¡¯s less likely to run off the rails.¡±

    ¡°Next option,¡± I scoffed.

    ¡°Now, now, don¡¯t be so dismissive,¡± Jakob said. ¡°When was the last time you got something a little raw and visceral, so to speak?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s out of the question,¡± I said.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve got plenty of potential playmates¡­¡± Jakob said, trailing off as he made a show of looking my Proxy up and down. ¡°Or maybe you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Out of the question,¡± I repeated, annoyed.

    ¡°You could always ask your Vila, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve thought about it before¡­¡± Jakob taunted.

    ¡°Oh fuck off, Jakob, I came here for help!¡± I said, incensed. A cage rattled somewhere deep in my mind. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was in anger or agreement.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fry a port. It¡¯s only a bit of fun,¡± Jakob said, gesturing to calm me down with both hands.

    ¡°Moving on then. What¡¯s the other option?¡± I said, hoping to move out of this uncomfortable territory.

    ¡°Install a kill switch for the Incarnum¡¯s sensors,¡± Jakob said. ¡°You give anyone caught in Isbrand¡¯s path a fair shake at getting away.¡±

    ¡°While leaving myself senseless in combat,¡± I added.

    ¡°I did say the first option was my personal recommendation,¡± Jakob reminded me.

    ¡°Yes, I recall,¡± I said. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s better than having nothing.¡±

    Jakob was quiet for a long time, a look of deep consideration tinged with worry on his face.

    ¡°There¡­could be another option. It¡¯s not a good one. It¡¯s a massive risk to you.¡± Jakob said.

    ¡°I¡¯m willing to entertain it,¡± I said.

    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to use indulgence, bring something more appealing to bargain with,¡± Jakob said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± I said.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to make some concessions towards cooperation,¡± Jakob explained.

    ¡°Now I know you¡¯re fucking with me,¡± I said, incredulous.

    ¡°If you can find some way to work with Isbrand instead of against him, you could find more success,¡± Jakob said.

    ¡°Or I could end up an Impulsate,¡± I countered.

    ¡°That is the massive risk I mentioned,¡± Jakob reminded me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that option tucked away for a rainy day then?¡± I said, oozing sarcasm.

    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m just offering other solutions. You¡¯ll take the kill switch instead?¡± Jakob asked.

    ¡°Yes, thank you. I appreciate your help, Jakob. It¡¯s not my intention to vent my frustration on you,¡± I said.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright; don¡¯t get weepy on me,¡± Jakob said, holding up a hand to quiet me. ¡°I¡¯ll send you the kill switch program; just be sure to integrate it into the Incarnum properly.

    ¡°Of course. Thank you again, Jakob, for everything,¡± I said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it; you¡¯d do the same for me if I needed help,¡± he said.

    ¡°If you do need anything, tell me. I¡¯d be happy to assist,¡± I said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll think of something one of these days,¡± He said. ¡°Maybe just put in a good word for me with Vila?¡±

    ¡°Not on your life,¡± I said, standing up from my chair and heading to the door.

    ¡°You can¡¯t blame me for trying,¡± Jakob said, smirking again.

    ¡°I can, and I do. Goodbye, Jakob, I¡¯ll talk to you later,¡± I said.

    ¡°You¡¯d better. I don¡¯t want the next thing I hear about you to be from some schlock news feed,¡± Jakob warned.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be the first to know if I¡¯m flat-lined,¡± I called back, opening the door and heading outside.

    ¡°Dibs on your rig, by the way!¡± Jakob got in a final jab as I closed the door to his room.

    I walked down the hall and back outside. I snaked my way through the crowds outside and finally made it back into the RPAC.

    ¡°Welcome back, Sir. Where to now?¡± The pilot¡¯s modulated voice chimed at me as I sat back down inside. I gave the coordinates to my garage and settled into the chair to think. The reality of this operation was starting to take shape, and I didn¡¯t like it. No matter the angle I approached it, the margin for error was razor thin, and the failure price grew with each new variable added. Dealers really did excel at getting into pandemonium.

    My silent contemplation was suddenly interrupted as a large display lit up in the cab, with the words ¡°Breaking News¡± scrolling across it and a loud, obnoxious theme song playing.

    ¡°I thought I said I wanted quiet?¡± I complained to the pilot.

    ¡°Sorry, sir, it¡¯s an emergency feature that overrides passenger settings,¡± The pilot explained.

    ¡°We interrupt our regular broadcast schedule to bring you a special report from the lower east habitation section,¡± The anchorman said in a practiced and sensationalized tone. ¡°A habitation block owned and managed by the Trevelli corporation is playing host to an infection of rampant and unchecked Impulsates, according to our sources.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no fucking way¡­¡± I muttered, suddenly glued to the screen. They cut from the anchor to overhead footage of the habitation block. The building was surrounded by Enforcers that looked to be holding back a growing crowd of onlookers. The air around the building swarmed with camera drones looking for a good shot of the mounting chaos.

    How was I going to release Isbrand into that building now?

    I received a communication ping before I could even muster half an answer to that question.

    The display in the corner of my vision informed me Maria Caligo was calling.

 Ch. 4 - A Wolf In Sheeps Clothing

    A part of me desperately wanted to ignore Maria¡¯s call. I knew that wasn¡¯t an option tonight. I took a long, steadying breath and reached out mentally to answer the call.

    ¡°Hello, Ms. Caligo,¡± I said, afraid to offer more before hearing her tone.

    ¡°Good evening, sweetheart. I hope I didn¡¯t catch you while you were busy,¡± she said in a lilting voice.

    ¡°Not at all. I am en route to my garage via Proxy now,¡± I assured her. ¡°I plan to launch Isbrand and go to the infected hab unit.¡±

    ¡°I did believe I could trust you in this matter, but¡­¡± she spoke, her voice taking on a dark tone. ¡°Since I¡¯ve been kept so woefully unaware of the details of your current assignment, why don¡¯t you explain to me how this happened?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Maria, I¡­¡± She cut me off before I could even finish speaking.

    ¡°No platitudes,¡± She threatened. ¡°Answer my question, Elias.¡±

    ¡°The client withheld vital information about this operation,¡± I said. ¡°I was sent in to investigate what they called a ¡®single sighting¡¯ of an Orgiastic. Initial scouting showed clear signs of a fully formed cyst. These are signs that Trevelli could not have overlooked without willful negligence. I learned all this directly after our meeting earlier, and I have been rushing to respond ever since.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that would explain things from your end,¡± She said, her voice softening. ¡°Trevelli corporation will be lucky to exist in the morning if this is true.¡±

    ¡°I have nothing to gain from lying to you, Maria. You can examine the full report from my scouts; it will corroborate everything I¡¯ve told you,¡± I said.

    ¡°Let¡¯s focus on one thing at a time. You have a habitation block to clear,¡± Maria said. ¡°I¡¯ll connect with D.I.C.E. to assess our options and provide support. Call me once you¡¯re prepared to begin.¡±

    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll contact you as soon as I¡¯m ready,¡± I assured her. Without another word, the connection ended. She was still angry, but at least it wasn¡¯t entirely directed at me anymore. I slumped back in my chair as my mind raced. How was I going to reach the best outcome for this operation? I didn¡¯t even know how I was going to avoid abject failure. I couldn¡¯t let this jeopardize my plans. I had to find a way to succeed. Desperation was starting to seep into me.

    ¡°Sir, we have arrived at your destination,¡± The pilot said. I looked absently out the window and recognized my garage. I¡¯d completely lost track of time. I exited the cab as soon as the door slid open.

    ¡°You¡¯re dismissed. Thanks for the ride,¡± I said as I headed for the garage. I stepped up to a smaller door beside the massive metal shutters and sent a mental signal for access. As I entered the garage, the lights turned on, and I could hear several machines humming to life.

    ¡°Vila, give me an update,¡± I called out, walking over to a large display on the wall near Isbrand¡¯s Incarnum.

    ¡°One through four are waiting to reintegrate. Isbrand¡¯s connection protocols have been primed. Is there anything you need to do before we initiate?¡± Vila asked.

    ¡°We have one installation first, then we¡¯re ready. I¡¯ll take care of it once I¡¯ve reintegrated the ersatz,¡± I said, connecting a cable from my Proxy to one of the ports on the wall. I slipped out of the Proxy and incarnated inside the garage itself. Everything here had been connected to a single control network. The building was an Incarnum in its own right. I shifted into an incarnated space within the building¡¯s network. The room was a workshop where I carved pieces of my mind and soul into ersatz. Four of those shards were already waiting inside and sat at a table conversing among themselves.

    ¡°It¡¯s about time you showed up!¡± said number two. ¡°We were going to start a betting pool.¡±

    ¡°Ignore him,¡± Four said, rolling his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re up to speed on the situation. We have to reconsider sending Isbrand!¡±

    ¡°And what would you have me do?!¡± I said, nearly screaming. ¡°Our options are being wiped off the map faster than I can consider them!¡±

    ¡°Boss, it¡¯s alright. We know this is a bad situation,¡± Three said, trying to calm me down.

    ¡°No platitudes!¡± I spat with as much venom as I could muster. ¡°Give me answers! Solutions!¡±

    ¡°Jakob gave you three answers. You threw two of them to the wayside without any real consideration,¡± One said, finally speaking up to break the long silence that had fallen over us.

    ¡°He gave me one answer and two useless jokes,¡± I countered.

    ¡°Or you¡¯re just too stubborn to take good advice,¡± One said adamantly.

    ¡°Good advice?¡± I muttered. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡±

    ¡°I am. You¡¯ve got to stop avoiding this. The cage has to open at some point.¡± One said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re saying, what you¡¯re asking me to do!?¡± I accused.

    ¡°It¡¯s the only chance we have to come out of this unscathed,¡± One said. ¡°If you don¡¯t appease Isbrand, we will never reach the Emerald Moon.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t do it¡­I can¡¯t do it!!¡± I screamed. Something within snapped under the pressure of the moment. I dropped to my knees as I continued to scream and slam my fist into the floor of the workshop. I tried to bring my fist down again, but someone caught my hand by the wrist. The grip was firm. Too firm. I looked up to see Isbrand smiling down at me.

    ¡°I can,¡± he said; his voice was gravel, grit, and honey. ¡°It¡¯s just going to cost you.¡±

    ¡°Get back in your cage!¡± I said, too weak to shout anymore.

    ¡°Not this time. You¡¯re going to admit you need me. I¡¯m going to show you how wrong you¡¯ve been,¡± Isbrand said, pulling me up.

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    ¡°I will not,¡± I said, trying to sound as resolute as I could manage.

    ¡°You will. You¡¯re never leaving here without me on your side,¡± He said, grinning. Isbrand let go of my wrist and pushed past me to sit at the table. He was nothing like me. He looked nothing like me or the ersatz copies of me sitting around him now. He was every scar I never carried. He was the body sculpted from my ruined material. He was every fang and claw I never sharpened. A black dog of a man.

    ¡°I¡¯m not playing these games with you, Isbrand,¡± I warned.

    ¡°No games. Just negotiation,¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked. I felt defeated even in this simple question.

    ¡°You know,¡± he said.

    ¡°Please. Anything else, anyone else,¡± I muttered uselessly.

    ¡°Careful. You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re offering.¡± Isbrand said. ¡°How about this instead? As a show of good faith, I do this job, and you owe me a single favor. No tricks, no angles, just a handshake and an agreement.¡±

    ¡°How can I trust you?¡± I asked.

    ¡°How can you afford not to?¡± Isbrand asked, extending his hand toward me. I stood frozen in the moment, looking at Isbrand¡¯s hand and considering his offer.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± Four said, standing from his seat and pointing at me. ¡°Nothing good comes from this! Nothing!¡±

    ¡°Pipe down, you sniveling cynic,¡± Isbrand said, glaring at four. ¡°This is between me, myself, and I.¡±

    ¡°Just make your decision,¡± One said, turning to me. ¡°We are wasting time.¡±

    I knew he was right. Every moment wasted here at the garage made our chances shrink towards nothing. My mind raced for a solution for anything other than this. No matter what I considered, I came to the same conclusion. I didn¡¯t have another option. It was Isbrand or nothing.

    ¡°Alright¡­¡± I whispered, stepping over to Isbrand and clasping his outstretched hand. ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret this.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll thank me in the end,¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°Doubtful. Now. We have to move.¡± I said, looking at the others. Each ersatz stood from the table and walked to me in turn. As they drew closer, each was suddenly drawn in like a magnet snapping to metal. The ersatz faded into me, reintegrating its borrowed shard into my consciousness. My vision blurred, and my mind exploded with a rush of memory and feeling. Everything had to fall back into place, and I was along for the ride as the process played out. The world around me began to shift and spin. I felt like I was tumbling head over heels through the air. I nearly fell over before catching myself on the table¡¯s edge with both hands. I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes to reorient myself. I felt a large hand clap on my shoulder.

    ¡°Easy now. Can¡¯t have you falling apart before we even start this party,¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just get to the Incarnum. I¡¯ll run diagnostics from here and join you once they¡¯re done.¡± I said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t keep me waiting,¡± Isbrand said, fading from sight. I sighed and opened my eyes again. The table was no longer spinning in my vision. My mind felt like it was settling into place. I needed to work quickly. I brought up a display in the room and started the diagnostic for Isbrand¡¯s Incarnum. Before I moved, I had to ensure he was disconnected from the garage¡¯s network. I still had the kill switch from Jakob. I was going to keep whatever advantage I could. Once I had made sure he was inside the Incarnum, I went to work. I couldn¡¯t install the kill switch to the Incarnum without alerting Isbrand. My only option was to install it into my psyche and prime the activation to cascade across whatever system I incarnated inside. It was an insane notion, but it was all I had. The diagnostic was nearly finished, meaning my time was short.

    I went to the workstation connected to my mental map and sat down. A web of nodes connected by thin strands of various colors appeared, suspended in a globe of iridescent mist. Where was I going to hide this kill switch? It had to be inconspicuous but easily accessible. I couldn¡¯t risk fumbling around for the activation parameter when I needed it most. I touched the globe, turning it as I pondered the problem. Parts of the web began to glow intensely as I made my considerations; the strain on my mind visualized in real-time. An activation phrase wouldn¡¯t work if I couldn¡¯t speak for any reason.

    There was the possibility of using a gesture. Still, I could think of a dozen scenarios where I couldn¡¯t move correctly. It had to be something I could do at any time and remember in the heat of the moment. That was it; memory. Isbrand wouldn¡¯t care about my memories. I could attach the kill switch to a memory and use its recall as the trigger. I used my mental control of the web before me to filter through memories. I needed something short, distinct, and relatively obscure. If the memory was something I revisited often, I could unintentionally set off the kill switch. I scanned through my mind until something struck me. I had a memory that would fit. The first time I witnessed the exile of an Impulsate I¡¯d helped to catch. I recalled precisely how I had felt that day because it was the first time I had considered my plans to escape this place. I remembered the case well enough to know the name of the Impulsate I had sent to exile. Donato Schade had been a serial killer before succumbing to his urges entirely. He became a rare and dangerous Impulsate known as a Bane. I had my answer. I moved quickly to piece the connections together.

    I had finished the majority of the work when I received a notification. The diagnostic was completed, and the results were displayed on a nearby screen. I reviewed what I¡¯d managed to get done and decided it was the best I could hope for now that my time was up. I shut down the workstation and stepped away, preparing to incarnate alongside Isbrand. I closed my eyes and made the transfer.

    When I opened my eyes, I sat in a cold metal chair in the middle of a cramped, empty room. A single light shone above me, casting the room in a warm orange glow. Isbrand was nowhere to be seen, which meant he was already connected to and controlling the Incarnum. I was just along for the ride.

    ¡°We could have been halfway to the site without your neurotic double-checking, you know?¡± Isbrand¡¯s voice rang out from all around me.

    ¡°When your body doesn¡¯t break down in the middle of combat, you¡¯ll be thanking me,¡± I answered.

    ¡°Wishful thinking on your part,¡± Isbrand said, chuckling.

    ¡°You¡¯re clear to move out. Let¡¯s not waste any more time,¡± I prodded.

    ¡°Finally,¡± he said excitedly. I created a display of Isbrand¡¯s visual feed in front of me, watching as the hulking machine came to life in the garage. The metal shutters slid up into the ceiling as the bays opened. Isbrand tore into an all-out sprint into the city, sailing towards the edge of a nearby platform.

    ¡°Hold on! Wait! Let¡¯s just call a carrier! Isbrand!¡± I shouted as we rapidly approached the edge.

    ¡°Not tonight. I need a warm-up,¡± Isbrand said, with no sign of slowing.

    ¡°You fucking lunatic,¡± I said, waving away the display. I couldn¡¯t stomach watching the trip with Isbrand acting this way. ¡°Just don¡¯t cause any damage or injuries!¡±

    ¡°Oh, I would never,¡± he said, feigning sincerity.

    ¡°I mean it. Now leave me be; I have to call Maria,¡± I warned, shifting my attention and sending a ping. I waited for Maria to respond, trying desperately not to think about what Isbrand was doing. Maria popped up in a display and started speaking soon after.

    ¡°Hello, dear. Are you on your way to the site?¡± she asked, seeming in suspiciously good spirits.

    ¡°Uh¡­ Yes, I¡¯m with Isbrand now. We are on our way. Is there anything to report from your end?¡± I asked cautiously.

    ¡°I have good news, actually. I have contacted your superiors at D.I.C.E to relay the situation. They are justifiably concerned about the success of the operation.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s supposed to be good news?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Patience dear, I was getting to the good part,¡± Maria chastised. ¡°They saw fit to take my recommendation to ensure a successful mission and have agreed to rescind the indefinite suspension of your former partner. Two dealers are always better than one.¡±

    My stomach felt as if it had crashed to the floor. ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°Pritch should be on her way to the site as we speak. Convene with her once you arrive. I¡¯m sure she¡¯s dying to catch up. Purify the habitation block before you both go reminiscing. Are we clear?¡± Maria asked.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I said, too stunned to say more.

    ¡°Good boy. You two play nice,¡± Maria said, disconnecting the call.

    My former partner had just been reinstated and reassigned to me.

    The partner whose suspension I had been directly responsible for.

    The timetable for my escape just became immediate.

    I wouldn¡¯t survive Livia Pritch a second time.

 Ch. 5 - A Shepard in Wolfs Clothing

    A man wakes in the dark, huddled and shivering in a cobbled, ruinous cot. The fire in the stove has burned down to flickering embers, leaving the air in his hovel frigid and dry. Pale blue light streams into the dwelling through an ice-caked window. The man sighs as he sits up. The wet, hot air from his lungs billows out in front of his face in a vast white cloud. He does not wish to get up, but he must. He places his feet on the cold stone floor and winces. The man goes to the stove and kneels down, opening the blackened metal door and checking the remains of the fire. He considers the piles of ash and errant embers, wondering silently if it¡¯s worth feeding them anew. He thinks better of it. The man picks up an old broken trowel and picks through the ash. He shifts smoldering embers into a pile at one end of the stove before piling ash atop them. He doesn¡¯t have time for another fire.

    The man finishes with the stove and starts to get dressed. The clothes he wore were mismatched and ugly. He kept what fit well enough and offered him warmth, caring little for fashion. He donned a long coat and cinched it with a loose leather belt. The man went to his tools where he had left them to dry and began gathering them into his hand cart. He carried only what he knew he would need to finish his work. A hatchet, a spade, a shovel, and a lantern. He lifted the lantern, opened the door, and reached inside with his open hand. The man ran a finger over the wick and whispered.

    ¡°I know what you need. I can feel your heat,¡± He cajoled. The wick grew hot against his finger, and in the next moment, the flame was alight. He closed the hatch and went outside, pulling the cart with one hand and holding the lantern in the other. The man looked up into the starless sky at the pale blue moon. The light that beamed from above seemed to condense and focus on a small mountain in the distance. A massive set of ivory double doors stood atop that mountain and bathed in the blue light. The doors were attached to nothing and stood closed and radiant on the snow-covered mount overlooking a deserted town. A stone road came from those strange doors, snaking down the mountain and through the town.

    The man turned his eyes back to the town and set about his work. He walked down an empty street, his feet crunching lightly in soft snow. There was a muffled silence all around him. The only sound came from his shifting cart, his tools therein, and his own steady breathing. The noise died quickly in the blanket of snow around him. He traveled for a time before reaching his destination, a quaint home at the end of a row. Oddly, the street stretched further, but no more houses remained in the row. The other dwellings looked to have been burned down to the foundations.

    The man pulled his cart to the side and brought his lantern as he entered the home. The door was unfastened and slightly ajar. He pressed his free hand into the door and swung it inward before walking inside. He scanned around the dark with his lantern. He found a set of cabinets and searched them, producing a few candles. He took a few minutes to get them lit and placed around to spread more light. The man finished with the candles and walked to the far corner of the home, where he had seen the edge of a bed frame.

    The bed was tucked away behind a slatted screen for the privacy of its occupant. The man held up his lantern and drew back the blankets. A body lay there, frozen and desiccated. From the slight frame and the remains of a dress the body still bore, he surmised that this had been a little girl in life. He set the lantern aside and wrapped the body in the blankets from the bed. He picked up the bundle carefully when he had finished wrapping her up. He carried her like a bride, bringing the body out into the cold open air and placing it beside his cart. The man returned to the home and began to pick over the things inside. He found a sack of dry beans and a glass jar with a dark, viscous liquid inside. He sampled it, finding it sweet and not unpleasant. He brought what little sundries he found back to the cart and made a few more passes over the home to look for more.

    His vigilance was unrewarded. The home had nothing else he cared to take, at least nothing he aimed to carry back in his cart. He pulled all his things and the body away from the home to what he felt was a safe distance. He finally walked back into the house, standing just inside the door. He looked at each of the flickering candles before he spoke.

    ¡°You are hungry. Feed,¡± He said. The flames of the candles grew impossibly large and began to jump to whatever they could reach around them. The man walked away from the house and sat down beside the body. In mere moments, the entire building had caught aflame. The pyre became a great beast, roaring, cracking, spitting, and hissing. The man smiled and leaned into the warmth of the burning house. It reminded him of feeling unburdened. It reminded him of his chains. The feeling was like all things; a canvas painted with bliss and suffering in equal measure.

    The man watched as the house burned. He cared little for the cold or the time it took. All he had was time to see his work done. The house groaned like a dying animal as it collapsed under its weight. Wooden beams splintered and snapped as the roof caved in. Embers flew into the air like a hive of bugs set alight. The flames lashed skyward in jubilant praise. The once triumphant flames waned as time passed, and the home was reduced to blackened and smoldering ash. What had been bright and beautiful fell to decay.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    The man stood and took up his spade and shovel in hand. He walked around the husk of the home to a piece of flat land nestled beside it. He used the spade to test the ground, drawing closer to the burned home until it was soft enough to his liking. He started a small hole, going as deep as the thawed ground would allow. When he hit frozen earth, he stopped. The man took his shovel and gathered the smoldering wood and coals from the house. He filled the hole with coals and covered the surrounding ground. The man knelt down and held out a hand to the coals. They glowed wild and hot in response. The process continued until the man had a hole fitting his needs.

    The man carried the body of the little girl, still swaddled in her blankets. He brought her to the hole and made it her grave. He was careful when he placed her, tender even. She had suffered enough already in his mind. His body screamed at him to stop and take a rest. He picked up the shovel and buried her instead. When the grave was covered, the man got down on his knees beside it. He placed one hand on his chest above his heart and the other on the ground.

    ¡°Rest well. I will carry your burdens instead,¡± The man whispered solemnly. He stayed there in silent reverence for a moment more before rising to his feet. He set about gathering his things and placing them in the cart. He looked up the deserted street to the next home in the line. After some food and rest, it was work to start. He continued back up the path, carrying his lantern and pulling his cart.

    The man reached his hovel, opening the door absently. He trudged inside and began to put down his things before a woman¡¯s voice startled him.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been quite busy,¡± Said the woman. She was sitting on the man¡¯s poor excuse for a bed. She looked out of place in his squalid home. She wore a pristine gray dress and a hooded shawl that obscured her features in shadow.

    ¡°I told you to stop showing up here unannounced,¡± The man said, too tired to sound like he meant it.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It didn¡¯t feel right to disturb your work.¡± She said.

    ¡°Look. I¡¯m tired and hungry. I don¡¯t have the heart for this right now. I need to rest and get back to work,¡± he explained, putting away his tools. He removed his coat and walked to the stove to start a new fire.

    ¡°I need your help,¡± the woman said, desperate and pleading.

    ¡°No. No. I have told you no,¡± he said. ¡°I won¡¯t have this argument again.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how much more he can take,¡± she said, clasping her hands together. ¡°If we don¡¯t do something soon¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s over. It has been over for longer than I care to remember. Look around. I have nothing left. Nothing left to take. Nothing left to give. What else could you possibly want from me?!¡± The man shouted. His booming voice shook the walls around them.

    ¡°I know it isn¡¯t fair of me to ask you for this,¡± she said.

    ¡°Then don¡¯t ask. Please. I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t! I can¡¯t!¡± He screamed, fist crashing into the iron stove. ¡°Why do you even want me?! I¡¯m not strong enough!¡±

    ¡°You are! You always have been! You just have to be there!¡± she implored.

    ¡°Be there? BE THERE?!¡± He roared in disbelief as he turned to her. ¡°I was there! I was there for you!¡±

    ¡°Not me. For him. For you!¡± She countered.

    The rage blinded him. It welled in his soul, caustic and hot. Before realizing it, he had ripped the stove from the floor, tearing down the metal flue and heaving the object into the nearby wall. It exploded in ash, broken pieces, and glowing embers. He was screaming, and he couldn¡¯t stop. He had to get the noise out. If he left it inside, it would kill him. He fell to the floor, broken and spent. More than anything, he wanted to be stricken of all sense at that moment. Anything but this feeling.

    The woman knelt beside him and lifted him into her lap, cradling his head and shoulders.

    ¡°Isbrand, please,¡± she said. ¡°I know you can help him.¡±

    ¡°But what if I can¡¯t?¡± He asked. ¡°I can¡¯t lose everything all over again, Vila.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t.¡± She assured him.

    ¡°You can¡¯t know that,¡± he resisted.

    ¡°I do. I do because it¡¯s you. You¡¯ll never lose again,¡± she said, leaning down and kissing his forehead. ¡°You have to go to the door now. It will open soon, and you will only have one chance to get through.¡±

    ¡°Just a little longer. Stay with me,¡± he said.

    ¡°You know I can¡¯t. Now get up. Elias needs you.¡± She said, laying him down on the floor and standing up. She walked to the hovel¡¯s door and opened it, stepping out into the pale blue night.

    The man lay on the ground, still feeling the warmth of her lips against his head. He felt heat and wetness begin to well around his eyes. He scoffed and sat up, running his arm across his face. He didn¡¯t have time for this. He reached out and took up the handle of his shovel, using it to get to his feet. The man looked at the open door and started as fast as possible. He ran through the empty street, away from his home. His eyes were fixed on the door on the mountain in the distance. His lungs burned, and his legs ached, but he ran. The man slipped and stumbled along the way. Each time he fell, he rose back to his feet.

    He passed by rows of burned houses. All the little graves he had made flew past his blurred vision. He felt the steep and sudden incline as he approached the mountain¡¯s bottom. He was tired and broken. He still had farther to go. The door loomed above, barely peaking over the rise of the mountain. He couldn¡¯t stop.

    As he climbed toward the summit, snow began to fall. The crystal white flakes caught the moon¡¯s blue light, shimmering like sapphires in the sky. The man came to the end of the path. He stood before the door on the summit. He looked back to the town. In the distance, he could see a fire where his hovel used to stand.

    The doors sounded like a key being turned in a lock and began to shift open. Orange and warm light poured out from between them.

    The man shielded his eyes with one hand and walked into the light.

 Ch. 6 - The Danger of a Long Shot

    I felt like I was going to be sick. My mouth watered, and the sour taste of bile rose from my throat. My eyes darted around the tiny incarnated space. Beads of sweat formed on my face. My fear was running away with my reason. I had to get out. To get somewhere safe. I closed my eyes so tightly they ached and reached out to sever my connection with Isbrand. For a brief moment, I felt myself detach and fall.

    ¡°Where the fuck do you think you¡¯re going?¡± I heard Isbrand¡¯s voice before I felt a hand wrap around the back of my neck. My eyes shot open. I was back in the room with Isbrand. I was still inside the Incarnum.

    ¡°Let go of me!¡± I protested, twisting my body and trying to pry myself from his grip.

    ¡°To do what? Leave? We have a job to do!¡± Isbrand said. His grip on me never loosened.

    ¡°Yes! Change of plans. I have to escape! Now!¡± I explained.

    ¡°Slow down. What¡¯s going on?¡± He asked. I would swear I heard concern in his tone if I didn¡¯t know any better.

    ¡°I¡¯m done. It¡¯s over. I¡¯ve run out of time. Maria convinced Dice to reinstate Pritch. She¡¯s going to the hab unit right now,¡± I said.

    A wicked smile crossed Isbrand¡¯s face.

    ¡°Pritch the Bitch?¡± He asked. ¡°Now that is a treat.¡±

    ¡°What is wrong with you?!¡± I demanded. ¡°Have you forgotten the hell she put me through for years?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I remember it well, buddo,¡± Isbrand said. ¡°You never grew a pair, so she dog-walked you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying that was my fault?!¡±

    ¡°Yes. All you needed was a fucking spine. You could have spared yourself a lot of trouble. Could¡¯ve even had some fun in the process.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡±

    ¡°You wanna bet?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not playing these games with you, Isbrand.¡±

    ¡°Just let me handle her. I guarantee better results than you ever got.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not. You¡¯re going to get me murdered. You know what Pritch is like.¡±

    ¡°You know I¡¯d never let her kill you. Kill us. Besides, she wouldn¡¯t want to.¡±

    ¡°And how have you come to that conclusion?¡±

    ¡°She likes us too much,¡±

    ¡°Are we talking about the same woman here?!¡±

    ¡°Just take the bet if you¡¯re so sure.¡±

    ¡°What bet?! You¡¯ve just been spouting nonsense!¡±

    ¡°You let me handle Pritch, and I¡¯ll get her to stop treating you like a plaything.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s the wager?¡±

    ¡°Name your price.¡±

    ¡°Fine. When I¡¯m proven right, you will fall in line. No more fighting to get out of your cage. No more outbursts. You will follow my orders to the letter. No complaints. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Alright. But if you¡¯re wrong, the cage goes. I want out, permanently.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious?¡±

    ¡°What happened? I thought you were confident I had no chance of winning?¡±

    ¡°Fine!¡±

    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s shake on it.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°I insist.¡±

    I rolled my eyes and pulled away from Isbrand again. This time, he let me go. I faced him and held out my hand. Isbrand¡¯s hand closed around mine and squeezed firmly. We shook briefly, him still grinning in my face.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to look back on this day and wonder why you didn¡¯t listen to me sooner,¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to look back on this day and wonder how you became delusional.¡± I countered.

    ¡°We¡¯ll both be better for the journey,¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°Doubtful,¡± I scoffed. ¡°Let¡¯s get to the hab. We are wasting time.¡±

    Isbrand disappeared, leaving me alone in the incarnated room. I sat back in the cold metal chair and tried to understand what was happening. Isbrand was going to fail. I was confident in that notion. Where did that outcome leave me? I would be done with Isbrand¡¯s depredations of my soul. Pritch was suddenly back in my life. Isbrand would likely provoke her in this mad gambit of his. She would retaliate against me; that much was certain. Would she genuinely go so far as to kill me? Could she afford to? She knew who my handler was. I was a valuable investment in the eyes of influential people. I knew Pritch was insane. But she wasn¡¯t that insane. There may have been a means to salvage this. I could placate Pritch in the short term. Just long enough to finish my preparations. When I¡¯m ready, I escape to the emerald moon. I flee to Smaragdos.

    Hey, look alive in there. We¡¯re getting close to the hab. Isbrand¡¯s voice sounded in my mind.

    ¡°Any sign of Pritch?¡± I asked aloud.

    None. We¡¯ve got a hell of a lot of company, though. Enforcers everywhere. Scav drones, as far as the eye can see. It looks like someone kicked the info-junkie hive, too. They¡¯re practically beating through the enforcer¡¯s barricades down there!

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake! We¡¯re never going to catch a break tonight, are we?!¡± I shouted.

    Stop whining and get up here with me! It¡¯s time to go to work!

    ¡°Finally, I can agree to something,¡± I muttered, closing my eyes and transferring myself to the control node of the Incarnum. I felt my existence stretch like a thin line, extending to an unseen horizon. Colors I couldn¡¯t understand cascaded across my lack of vision. Sounds slid past me until no space was left between us. My consciousness tore itself apart and poured into the Incarnum¡¯s senses. I opened my eyes and adjusted to the display of Isbrand¡¯s visual sensors.

    ¡°Alright, let me shift to the Egg,¡± I told Isbrand. I blinked and appeared outside the Incarnum, floating a few feet from Isbrand¡¯s shoulder. The egg referred to the Incarnum¡¯s Omnidirectional Viewpoint Module. OVM for short. I always found the pun funny. It must have been why the manufacturers made the avatar you projected outside the Incarnum an oval-shaped sphere. That has more marketing potential.

    Isbrand turned to look at me dismissively.

    ¡°All tucked in up there, buddo?¡±

    ¡°Are you finished?¡±

    ¡°I could come up with something more if you want?¡±

    ¡°Spare me,¡± I said, looking towards the view of the hab unit below. Isbrand had stopped on an overpass situated above the scene. Most of the crowd had moved closer to the action, leaving this level of the platforms around the hab unit practically empty. A few stragglers meandered about, hawking wares or conversing loudly. Everyone gave Isbrand and me a wide berth.

    The situation was precisely as Isbrand described it: a rat¡¯s nest. The Enforcers barely controlled the bystanders, scavs, and press-heads. The barricade lines were too close to the building. I couldn¡¯t let anything escape the hab unit without risking an outbreak, so I brought up our scan of the building and placed it between us.

    ¡°I¡¯m reading zero activity from the upper tiers of the building,¡± I said.

    ¡°Of course not; anybody with enough scratch to their accounts can afford Trevelli¡¯s monitoring service. They were exfiltrated at the first errant J-reading. The Imps are only going to show in the sub-level.¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°So we can disregard the upper floors. We clear from the main floor down.¡± I said.

    ¡°Yes, but we¡¯ll have to graft into the hab unit¡¯s network. As we move down, we limit access to each floor. We send any survivors up and out through a single emergency corridor,¡± he said.

    ¡°That¡¯s the only way we guarantee safe extraction for them.¡± I agreed.

    ¡°Hold on. I¡¯m picking something up¡ª¡± Isbrand¡¯s voice was drowned out as my mind exploded in pain. White-hot and searing, but it was also short-lived. These were all the hallmarks of intrusion. Someone had punched through all my mental defenses to forge a connection. I only needed one guess as to who.

    Oh, Caldburn, I¡¯m touched. A husky, euphonious voice slipped into my psyche. Were you waiting for me?

    Livia Pritch had reached me again. I wasn¡¯t here. This wasn¡¯t happening. I couldn¡¯t move, think, or breathe. Something cold and sharp gripped my heart.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for games, Pritch,¡± Isbrand said, covering my silence. He did say he was going to deal with her. Now, I had to stand back and watch this disaster unfold.

    That¡¯s too bad. You know how I love playing games. Pritch pouted mockingly.

    ¡°Maybe later if you promise to play nice,¡± Isbrand said. ¡°Right now, we must deal with our most pressing issue.¡±

    You¡¯re right. There is a very pressing matter we have to address. Pritch said. Her voice had lowered to a snarl. Our sensors started to pick up movement from above. Isbrand and I both looked up to see a Dice personnel carrier. The craft looked like a box with stubby wings jutting from both sides. Each wing housed its own engine. What it lacked in aesthetics, it made up for in rugged adaptability. The back hatch of the craft opened as it neared the platform. I could make out an imposing figure standing at the edge of the opening in the carrier. The few wandering locals left on the platform scattered like shadows in the face of light. No one wanted to risk drawing Dice¡¯s attention. The carrier dropped low toward the platform, lining its open hatch up with the overpass.

    Pritch jumped from the back of the craft, sailing through the air in a wide arc until she hit the platform. Her body twisted as she made contact with the ground. She stabbed a blade that jutted from the top of her forearm into the platform. It gouged out a long groove through the metal, slowing her to a stop. She stood up from a low, kneeling position to her full height. The blade slid back down into her arm and disappeared.

    She was a vision of beautiful vulgarity. Her hair was a sharp two-toned affair: platinum above, dyed indigo below that framed her pale face in a choppy bob. She had one red-orange eye to the left of her face. On the right was what looked like an implanted eye patch. The neon glow of sensors on the patch betrayed it as an advanced targeting system. The rest of her screamed out just as hard to be seen. Her body was a long curved blade, all smooth and sloping synth-flesh with a deadly, perfect cutting edge. She sheathed herself in an ensemble of exposed black and gold machinery, fabrics draping to give her the faintest whispers of modesty, and enough biomechanical musculature to punch a hole through nano-comb plating.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you start by giving me a good fucking reason not to gut you?¡± Pritch said, glaring at Isbrand and me.

    ¡°I understand. You missed me. I¡¯m happy to see you too, Pritch,¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°That new Incarnum has you on a different vibe, huh?¡± She asked, walking closer. ¡°Who¡¯s in there with you? Kearn?¡±

    ¡°Nothing gets past you, does it?¡± Isbrand asked. ¡°Alright. Ask nice, and I¡¯ll make introductions.¡±

    Pritch¡¯s firey orange eye flared open wide.

    ¡°Look at the shine on this one...¡± She had closed the distance to Isbrand now. She stood directly in front of him. Her hands rested on her hips as she looked Isbrand up and down. ¡°They broke the mold with you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Isbrand, by the way.¡± He said.

    ¡°Still waiting on that reason not to flat-line you.¡± Her reminder was cold and humorless.

    Isbrand shifted his hulking metal frame, turned to Pritch, and lowered his visual dome sensor directly into her face, leaving only inches between them.

    ¡°Because as much as I would love to hold hands and walk you out under that pretty green moon all night long. Lives are at stake. We¡¯re Dealers with a job to do. Now is not the time to be fucking around.¡± Isbrand¡¯s hushed monotone made a poor mask for his voice¡¯s raw, visceral implication.

    I waited for Pritch to strike. I knew the attack was coming; I couldn¡¯t predict its origin. She would lash out in fury, and I wasn¡¯t sure I would survive. Every thread of my consciousness was pulled taut and tense enough to produce a musical note if plucked. The anticipation stretched out my perception of time. I felt like I would be trapped in these few seconds for an eternity.

    And nothing ever came.

    ¡°I guess I can¡¯t afford to have my first job back become a shlock-news headline,¡± Pritch spoke with renewed levity. She cast her eye down at the ground for a brief moment as she let out a sigh. She remained facing Isbrand.

    ¡°No, we can¡¯t. Work with us so we can help you.¡± Isbrand said, matching her new tone.

    ¡°We, huh?¡± Pritch said, turning her gaze back into Isbrand¡¯s eye. ¡°Is poor little Elias still even in there?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s here with us. Just a little shy, is all. I think he might warm up a bit if you apologized.¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t push it,¡± She warned, jabbing a finger towards Isbrand.

    ¡°Whoa, relax. I¡¯m not¡­¡± Isbrand said, raising his two smaller arms in a gesture of feigned surrender.

    ¡°Do you have a plan for this mess?¡± Pritch asked, turning from Isbrand and walking to the edge of the overpass. The hab unit waited below.

    ¡°Yes. And there¡¯s a place in it for you especially, watching my back,¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°Fuck off,¡± Pritch scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m taking point¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright. Have it your way,¡± Isbrand acquiesced.

    ¡°Give me five on recon once I¡¯m in the building. Then, meet me at the elevators.¡± She said. Pritch hopped over the railing of the platform and pushed off the side. She sailed through the open air to a building on the opposite side of the overpass. Pritch clambered down the structure towards the hab unit, falling, sliding, running, and climbing, all in smooth sequence and equal measure.

    Isbrand waited until she was out of earshot to speak to me.

    ¡°And you doubted me¡­¡± He chuckled.

    I was still too stunned to speak. Somehow, Isbrand had done it.

    He won the wager.

    I had set him free.

 Ch. 7 - Pre-show Jitters

    ¡°You cheated me,¡± I muttered.

    ¡°What?!¡± Isbrand nearly shouted, shifting to face me.

    ¡°You knew. Somehow, you planned this,¡± I explained. ¡°I don¡¯t know how, but this is your doing!¡±

    ¡°There are winners and losers in every wager. We don¡¯t get to choose which we are. We can only respond to the results. Don¡¯t be sore in losing. It¡¯s very unbecoming.¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°This is not about your stupid game!¡± I exclaimed. ¡°This is my life!¡±

    ¡°Not much of a life if you ask me,¡± Isbrand remarked flippantly.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you! I don¡¯t even want you here!¡± I spat venomous malice with every word. ¡°You are a blight, inflicted on me as punishment for some grave misdeed!¡±

    ¡°I am not here to punish you,¡± Isbrand said. He sounded solemn. ¡°I am here to see you justified.¡±

    His words gave me pause. All the time I had harbored Isbrand, he had never said anything like this. Who was this now? Not Isbrand. Not the one I knew.

    ¡°Then why are you tormenting me?!¡± I demanded.

    ¡°Tempering is torment to those who resist it,¡± Isbrand said.

    ¡°Spare me your sanctimony. I know what you are!¡± I hissed.

    ¡°Just like you knew I would lose the wager, I take it?¡± He asked.

    I bristled with indignation at that. ¡°Don¡¯t be sore in winning. It¡¯s very unbecoming.¡±

    Isbrand chuckled in his throat. ¡°Now you¡¯re starting to catch on.¡±

    Pritch¡¯s voice interrupted my mental space, ending my exchange with Isbrand. Caldburn, I¡¯ve made it inside. The base section is clean. I¡¯m picking up lots of activity below. Get out of your bag and get down here! It¡¯s swarming with stringers, so be ready to put on a show.

    Stringers. They were the neat little bow that tied this hellish situation into one odious package. Press-heads were in a never-ending race to satisfy the appetites of the info-junkies they peddled to. To that end, they posted standing bounties for live footage streams of anything entertaining. Stringers swarmed all over the city using micro-drones the size of a fingertip. They recorded anything salacious, violent, or scandalous. Dice operations were blood on the air to these predators.

    ¡°I¡¯m laying down a ground rule here,¡± I told Isbrand. ¡°No gamboling.¡±

    ¡°Now you¡¯re just being a bore,¡± Isbrand complained.

    ¡°I mean it! We are not here to produce a highlight reel. We¡¯re here to work!¡± I insisted.

    ¡°We¡¯ll get the job done¡­¡± Isbrand said, trialing off.

    ¡°Good,¡± I said. There was no way he was giving in this easily.

    ¡°¡­There¡¯s no harm if we look good while we go about it,¡± Isbrand added quietly.

    ¡°Isbrand! I¡¯m serious!¡± I warned.

    ¡°I heard you,¡± He dismissed.

    I felt like tearing my hair out. Truthfully, I had no clue what I would do if Isbrand decided to put on a show for the stringers. I tried not to think about it anymore. At least one of us needed a clear head for what we were getting ourselves into.

    ¡°Come on, we shouldn¡¯t keep Pritch waiting long,¡± I said.

    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± Isbrand said, climbing over the side of the platform. He couldn¡¯t match the speed and flair of Pritch. That didn¡¯t mean he was graceless. Isbrand slid down massive drainpipes, ran across narrow outcrops, and made several heart-stopping leaps through the air. He made all of this look innate and practiced. For Isbrand, this was a freeing romp across the city. The only thing keeping me from vomiting was this Incarnum¡¯s lack of the required organs. I dampened my sense of motion in response. Anything for some respite. When I turned off the visual feed, I could almost imagine sitting calmly in a comfortable chair.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Mere minutes later, we arrived at the front entrance of the hab unit. The Enforcers had maintained a perimeter bolstered by Dice support. Massive transport carriers arrived in droves, bearing more Dice personnel to the scene. Their reputation alone was enough to keep the crowd at bay. The menacing sluggers and advanced body armor seemed like overkill to me. As we approached ground level, I broadcast the necessary access credentials. There was no need to agitate people carrying weapons.

    Much to my chagrin, we had picked up a small swarm of stringers on our way down. They buzzed around Isbrand like flies as we approached several Dice agents near the front doors. One of them raised a hand to me in what seemed like a greeting and stepped closer. He was plain-looking with blocky features, dusty brown hair, and seafoam green eyes.

    ¡°Elias Caldburn? You¡¯re our second Dealer, I presume?¡± The man asked, lowering his hand to rest it casually under the barrel of his slugger.

    ¡°Correct. My partner should already be inside,¡± I said, trying to recover quickly from our trip down to the platform.

    ¡°Yeah, we saw her. And the tangle of stringers following her,¡± the man said, clearly holding back a chuckle.

    ¡°Yes. Livia¡¯s quite¡­ photogenic.¡± I said. Leave it to Pritch to draw every lurid eye she could manage.

    ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it,¡± He suggested. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m Sergeant Hayward. We¡¯ve granted you access to our network, so you¡¯re ready on all fronts.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Sergeant,¡± I said earnestly. ¡°I¡¯m heading in to meet my partner. In the meantime, I need you and your men to do everything possible to clear these civilians out.¡±

    ¡°Of course. We will start hauling the junkies in if nobody wants to disperse.¡± Hayward said.

    ¡°Good. Stay safe, Sergeant,¡± I said before turning and walking to the front door.

    Hayward called out to me as I entered. ¡°Hey Caldburn, when this is all over, you¡¯ve got to introduce me to your partner,¡±

    ¡°No promises, Sergeant.¡± I said over my shoulder. I had no intention of serving him up to Pritch. Even if it might make my life easier.

    Isbrand and I headed into the lobby of the habitation block. In some ways, it reminded me of my own building. The size and layout were familiar, but the similarities quickly ran dry. The decor was a gaudy mixture of dark slate, gold, and deep navy blue. Seeing the place with my own eyes cemented a thought in my mind. This Impulsate infection was not an accident. A building like this had too many systems monitoring for Imp activity. It shouldn¡¯t have been possible for them to fail simultaneously. Trevelli was going to be facing some hard questions very soon.

    We turned a corner and headed to the elevators. Pritch leaned on a wall, waiting for us to arrive.

    ¡°You took your sweet time getting here,¡± She teased.

    ¡°Absence makes the heart grow fonder,¡± Isbrand retorted.

    ¡°Hah¡­ cute.¡± Pritch crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. ¡°Are you ready to do this or not?¡±

    ¡°Ladies first,¡± Isbrand said, mentally commanding the elevator. We had been granted building control through the Dice network graft.

    Pritch waved a hand at us dismissively and stepped into the elevator when the door opened. The elevator compartment was massive, designed for freight instead of passengers. A mass of stringer micro-drones quickly chased after her, jockeying for the best angles. Isbrand ducked down into the elevator to join her. Thankfully, these machines could move tremendous amounts of weight.

    ¡°Those don¡¯t bother you?¡± I asked Pritch, finally managing to speak to her myself.

    Pritch gave me a look that said she knew exactly who she was speaking to now.

    ¡°Of course not. Some Press-heads even offered me a sponsorship before I got put on leave. Thanks for that; by the way, Elias.¡± She spat my name as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

    She was still angry with me.

    ¡°Pritch¡­ I didn¡¯t know they would put you on leave.¡± I admitted. ¡°I thought they would pair you with someone else, someone who was a better fit!¡±

    ¡°Oh, please. Don¡¯t give me that shitty excuse!¡± She said. ¡°You wanted to get rid of me, but you were too much of a coward to do it yourself! You went crying to the Major instead. You fucking pussy!¡±

    She was trying to provoke me.

    ¡°I¡¯m not doing this in front of an audience, Pritch,¡± I said

    ¡°You¡¯ve always got another lame excuse on standby, right?¡± She prodded.

    ¡°Can I open the doors now or not?¡± I asked. ¡°We are here for a reason!¡±

    She waved another dismissive hand toward me and scoffed.

    We¡¯d fallen right back into old habits. It was like I never got rid of her. I pressed the frustration from my mind and opened the elevator doors mentally.

    The doors slid open, revealing a wall of mottled, writhing flesh. It looked slick with moisture and ruddy fluids, the color of spoiled blood. The flesh pulsed and shifted on its own, rippling like exposed muscle. Haphazard rows of yellow-white teeth were scattered among the myriad of tissues.

    Silence fell between us. We watched as flesh, sinew, and bone tendrils clawed along the compartment¡¯s frame. This wasn¡¯t a cyst. This was a Bacchanal. An entire Orgiastic hive. I reached out mentally to the compartment doors and closed them slowly. It took several long and agonizing seconds, but finally, the doors closed with a hushed hiss of air.

    I projected my thoughts onto Pritch instead of using my voice. Trevelli has been lying from the start.

    This is more than a cyst. Pritch agreed.

    This is not an infestation of Imps. Isbrand interjected.

    What?! Then what is it? Pritch demanded.

    My thoughts whirled around in my mind. I could only come up with one answer for Pritch.

    It¡¯s a garden.

 The Devils Advocate

    The puzzle pieces were beginning to fit together in my mind. Trevelli had been cultivating Orgiastics in the building¡¯s sub-levels. At some point, their containment protocols were breached. They must have attempted to deal with the outbreak alone for some time, trying desperately to cover up the mess. When they realized it was futile to keep up the charade, they called in Dice to investigate a so-called ¡®single sighting¡¯ of an Orgiastic. The people responsible for this were long gone. Trevelli Corporation would be dissolved by the end of business tomorrow. The executives would siphon as much from their accounts as possible and disappear. At the end of it all, I remained; a glorified janitor for this monumental fuck-up.

    A garden? Do you think they were growing Imps down here or something? Pritch asked, still transmitting her thoughts to me.

    There¡¯s no way you get a Bacchanal like this appearing out of thin air. Trevelli was hiding this place under Dice¡¯s nose for a long time. I thought to Pritch.

    So, how do you want to play this? She asked.

    We have to find the brood chamber. The Harlot Queen will be there. She¡¯s incarnated across every Imp in the building. Kill her, and the Bacchanal tears itself apart. I explained.

    Glossing over how you even know all that, what happens to us when the Bacchanal self-destructs? Pritch questioned.

    The chattels will start to frenzy and attack one another. It will be chaos, but it still leaves us a chance to escape. I responded.

    It could be worse. Any clue where this brood chamber is? Pritch wondered.

    Down, sweetheart. Isbrand interjected.

    You¡¯re fucking with me. Right? Pritch asked.

    Orgiastics structure their Bacchanals very carefully. The brood chamber is always in the lowest part of the hive. I clarified.

    So, exactly how many sub-levels of this shit are we going to be wading through? Pritch demanded. I felt like I had answered the wrong question.

    The building plan shows eight levels. However, I wouldn¡¯t trust anything from Trevelli¡¯s systems. I responded.

    Great. Is there a silver lining to any of this? Pritch complained.

    No need to bother looking for survivors. Isbrand offered.

    You don¡¯t know that! I argued. It sounded feeble, even to me.

    Come on. Trevelli wouldn¡¯t have left loose ends down here. Isbrand countered. I may have hated it, but he was right.

    Let¡¯s take the elevator down to the bottom, then. No need to slog through every floor. Pritch thought.

    Agreed. I reached out to the elevator controls with my mind again and commanded it to bring us down to the eighth sub-level. The compartment started to move down before lurching suddenly. Metal screamed as the compartment stopped abruptly.

    ¡°Fuck¡± I said aloud. That was more than enough noise to alert any chattel nearby.

    ¡°Open the doors; we¡¯ll climb up!¡± Pritch said. I sent the mental command, and the compartment door started to open. Whatever halted the elevator must have misaligned the compartment; the doors scraped loudly against the shaft walls as they opened.

    Warnings began to fill Isbrand¡¯s sensors. J-readings were spiking. The easiest way to scan for Orgiastic presence was to measure the ambient levels of the psychic disturbance they gave off. These Impulsates had a chief emotion over all others: joy.

    Strange sounds began to echo down the hallways toward us. Carnal grunts and ecstatic screams drew closer with each passing moment. The chattels were coming.

    Isbrand raised one of his large limbs to the flesh wall that trapped us in the elevator¡¯s compartment. A metal cover slid back from his knuckles, revealing two stubby slugger barrels. A brief moment of blinding light and booming thunder erupted from them. The flesh ahead of us was shredded away like tissue paper. Isbrand charged through what was left of the flesh barrier, ripping it out of the way and entering the hallway.

    ¡°Pritch, get up here and hold them off!¡± Isbrand ordered, scanning in each direction with his weapon ready. Pritch hurried out of the compartment, lethal blades sliding out from her forearms.

    ¡°And what are you going to do?!¡± She asked, taking up point in the hallway.

    Isbrand stepped over to the other elevator doors, hidden beneath a layer of orgiastic flesh. With his large, clawed hands, he ripped through the wall to expose the doors. He opened them with a mental command and leaned into the shaft, looking down.

    ¡°I¡¯m improvising!¡± Isbrand shouted, his voice echoing through the elevator shaft. Pritch did not know the other mental command Isbrand had sent to the building¡¯s elevator. I, however, knew precisely what Isbrand was planning.

    The other elevator compartment was traveling to the upper floors at Isbrand¡¯s command.

    ¡°Isbrand, don¡¯t!¡± I protested. ¡°You¡¯re going to bring down the whole shaft on top of us!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the idea!¡± Isbrand shouted and let out a vicious laugh.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°What the fuck is going on back there?!¡± Pritch shouted, still scanning down each end of the hallway. The screaming of the chattels had reached a fever pitch.

    Isbrand turned back to join Pritch. He drew two long, jagged machetes from his waist with each of his two smaller limbs. The edge of each blade glowed red-orange and blistering hot.

    ¡°I¡¯m punching a hole down to the lower level. We need to hold here until it¡¯s done!¡± Isbrand explained.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to get overrun standing around here!¡± Pritch yelled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, sweetheart. It¡¯s not going to take long,¡± Isbrand countered.

    Pritch was about to yell something back. The manic cries of the chattel drowned out her voice. The first Orgiastics came loping down the long hallway in front of us. The chattel had a long, tubular frame, which it carried on two powerful legs. There was little distinction between its head and neck. Where its face should have been was a verticle slit lined with jagged teeth. From that orifice, a mass of slick, writhing, tongue-like appendages groped at the air in between its frenzied moaning. A narrow, whipping tail lashed about chaotically behind the creature. It had ugly, wrinkled flesh the color of a day-old bruise. It was hard to imagine that this thing had once been human. The only vestige of its previous form was the croaking, hoarse voice with which it screamed.

    Isbrand raised his fist toward the chattel and fired a shot. The hallway exploded in a flash of light and a booming peal. One of the chattel¡¯s legs was ripped from its body by the force of the slug impacting it. The creature fell to the floor because of the sudden lack of balance, skidding along the ground as ruddy fluid sprayed from the wound. The chattel pushed itself along the ground in our direction, using its remaining leg to slowly inch across the ground. Isbrand fired again. The chattel¡¯s head and neck blew apart, splattering the floor in a blossom of blood, flesh, and bone fragments.

    As the last echoes of Isbrand¡¯s shot waned, the chorus of screams from the approaching Orgiastics rose to a crescendo. More chattels started to come charging out of the dark. Their numbers swelled. It became impossible to discern where one chattel ended and another began.

    Isbrand began firing down one end of the hallway in a rhythmic procession punctuated by a loud, cacophonous boom after each volley. He filled the approaching hoard with one multi-slug after another. Masses of chattel burst into sprays of viscera as each shot made an impact. Somewhere in the roar of combat, I could hear Isbrand laughing.

    I turned briefly to check on Pritch. Her end of the hallway had become a display of slashing blades and vivisected chattel. Each new creature that drew near looked as if it had been shoved through a sieve. If you were too close to her, pieces of you scattered away into ribbons and blood splatter.

    ¡°Whatever you¡¯ve got cooking better happen soon Isbrand!¡± Pritch screamed over the chaos.

    ¡°We¡¯re close!¡± Isbrand shouted back. ¡°Should be happening any minute¡ª¡±

    Isbrand¡¯s voice was drowned out by the elevator compartment slamming through the blockage in the shaft at our level. Metal beams groaned, glass shattered, and debris peppered the hallway around us.

    ¡°Right on time!¡± Isbrand called, rushing back to the elevator shaft. ¡°Pritch, come on!¡±

    Pritch disengaged from the chattel, running to join Isbrand at the edge of the shaft.

    ¡°Now what?!¡± She demanded.

    Isbrand scooped Pritch up in one arm and jumped into the elevator shaft before she could even voice a protest. He landed on part of the metal framing that separated the compartments. Isbrand leaped across the shaft to the wall under the remaining compartment. His claws dug into the metal, gaining purchase and letting him hang there.

    On the opposite side of the shaft, the chattels had started to pour through the opened doors after us. The creatures sailed down the shaft, their bodies slamming into the walls and metal beams. They sank into the darkness below us, still screaming wildly.

    The stream of Orgiastics continued to rush through the doors and fall to their deaths for several agonizing moments. Chattels were vicious, horrific creatures, but they had very little in the way of actual sentience left. They were already doomed once the first crossed the threshold and sailed over the edge.

    The last chattel disappeared into the shadows. I listened to the jubilant cries of ecstasy wilt into muted silence. I couldn¡¯t believe it. Isbrand¡¯s mad plan worked. I sent a scan down the shaft, updating our map. The structure was in ruins at the bottom. But, there was the bottom we had been hoping for. Express access to the brood chamber. He was never going to let me live it down.

    ¡°What the fuck was that?!¡± Pritch shouted.

    ¡°That¡­ was improvising,¡± Isbrand said. He sounded as if everything had gone to plan.

    ¡°Do me a favor, sweetheart, the next time you want to improvise? Leave my ass out of it!!¡± Pritch had knives in her voice. Her one eye blazed wide and focused on Isbrand.

    ¡°Speaking of ass,¡± Isbrand spoke as he shifted the hand he carried her with as if to emphasize his words.

    I thought I saw Pritch¡¯s eye widen further.

    ¡°You wanna keep that hand?¡± Pritch asked. She always reminded me of a growling cat in her particularly enflamed moments.

    ¡°I¡¯m rather fond of it. Maybe a little more right now.¡± Isbrand feigned a nonchalant demeanor.

    I was sure of it. I saw Pritch¡¯s eye twitch.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t let go of me right now¡­¡± Pritch snarled.

    Isbrand laughed. I recoiled at the haunting mix of malice and mirth.

    ¡°Of all the things you chose to say¡­¡± Isbrand muttered.

    Then he dropped her.

    Pritch was too stunned to react. The sheer surprise of it all was painted across her face.

    I don¡¯t know what made me reach out to catch her. But I did.

    She was solidly in my grasp and held closer than I imagined.

    To her, it must have seemed just a mischievous prank. Pritch started to laugh as well.

    She liked it.

    ¡°That had to be the worst one!¡± Isbrand shouted like he¡¯d just played the greatest trick in the world.

    Who¡¯s to say? Perhaps he had.

    Whatever the case, it was at my expense.

    I felt outraged. It passed quickly into confusion.

    I didn¡¯t know why I had been so angry in that moment.

    Isbrand and Pritch laughed together.

    I dampened every sense I had to nothing. I was nowhere and nothing in an instant.

    <hr>

    I stopped laughing. Why wasn¡¯t I laughing with Pritch? Elias had shut himself off. I felt like kicking myself in my own fucking jaw. I had never been so happy this Incarnum had no face.

    ¡°Now. Let¡¯s get our job done with these Imps. I can think of much better ways to spend our time than this.¡± I said, carefully drawing down the situation.

    Pritch flashed me a final smile before jabbing my metal frame with a bladed elbow.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fucking do that, you prick!¡± She huffed. She sure was making this easy on me.

    ¡°And deprive you of a good time?¡± I asked. ¡°Not on your life.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh. It¡¯s going to be your life next time you fuck with me,¡± Pritch warned.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± I lied.

    Pritch jumped out of my arm and clamped onto the wall nearby.

    ¡°Last one down buys the drinks after¡­¡± She spoke as she beckoned me with her finger. She let go of the wall before I could even process her words. I let her get a head start. I didn¡¯t mind buying the drinks.

    I did, however, need Elias.

    Time to wake up, buddo! I thought, reaching out mentally and reenabling Elias¡¯ senses.

    <hr>

    The light switched on. Isbrand and I were alone.

    ¡°Now is not the time for this shit!¡± Isbrand hissed.

    ¡°I will leave!¡± I threatened.

    ¡°And do what?! Go where?! Back to Maria and say you failed?¡± Isbrand asked. He was right again, and I hated him for it even more this time.

    ¡°No,¡± I admitted.

    ¡°Exactly. You are here. Right now. With me. I¡¯ve got this.¡± Isbrand assured me.

    ¡°And that¡¯s why I¡¯m afraid,¡± I admitted.