Soulforged Dungeoneer

I spent the next couple hours helping Mel's group with Skill Sage stuff or consulting on a few specific things. I genuinely wanted to produce a Skill Book for my brandy-new skill and offer it to them just to prove that I could do it--to myself more than to them--but I didn't want to spend the experience points. That amount of XP would be a lot more reasonable when I was higher level myself, assuming the cost didn't scale up as I did.

I gave Jenna my contact information and she immediately started sending me entirely too many technical questions, most of which I didn't know or could only give an educated guess about. I promised answers eventually, but I simply wasn't in the mood for it right now. I really... kind of just wanted to leave. Mel, again, assured me that they would duck out before the critical point of the dungeon, and I just nodded, moving towards the dungeon exit and steeling myself for what I expected would follow.

I'd long since decided that I needed to explain to the military guys at the checkpoint everything I knew about Bo. I figured that a lot of awkward questions would follow, and they wouldn't be happy about the secrets I was keeping. I wasn't looking forward to even an insinuation that I should go back to jail, even if they were just going to use that to pressure me into spilling details. I figured the chances of that were decent, but the chances of an actual threat were low. Still, I just wanted to get past all of that and go home.

When we exited the portal, there was an awkward moment where I expected someone to be waiting, and nobody was. There was a big heavy tarp tent covering the immediate area, with painted lines on the floor leading to the only entrance. There had been armed National Guard troops here when we went in, to ensure that we kept to the minimum party size, but when we came out...

...it was odd. Also odd was the sound of engines outside, engines that sounded large and close. Busses? I couldn't place the noise, exactly, and after a moment of looking around the closed tent in confusion, stepped up to the exit.

It was a rainy day in Houston, Texas--not terrible, but it was overcast with a consistent drizzle from the gray skies--it was, in short, the kind of weather that often got me depressed. In fact, there were not a lot of things that would stop a day like this from making me depressed, not back in the day at least. But things were different now.

High on the list of things that were different were the two squads of soldiers that responded to my appearance by aiming their guns at me. Also on the list were the two heavy tanks, engines idling, whose guns were already trained on the entrance to the tent. Someone, I wasn't paying attention to who, shouted. No shots were fired, but neither did the shout sound like--or have the effect of--someone saying "Stand down!" or "Guns away!" or even "April fools!"

It was hard not to feel numb as my body at first refused, and then slowly began to process what was going on around me.

"Hands up! Do not activate any items or abilities! We will shoot!"

This, uh, this something you did, boss?

I was trying my hardest to get any grasp on the situation, but it wasn't that. Someone went running to tell someone about the situation. Someone's radio squawked something, but it made no sense at this range. Had something worse happened? Something about Bo, maybe?

I forced myself to clear my throat. To say nothing of what was happening to me, I still thought that getting that information out was on my list of very important to-dos. "I'd like to talk to whoever is in charge."

"Do not move! Do not activate any items or abilities or we will shoot." This time, my eyes were able to pick out who was talking, a... lieutenant? Maybe? I didn't know the stripes.

"I just want to talk." It was probably silly to do anything other than immediately knuckle under in the face of an army with guns pointed at you, but on the other hand... Merry, how fast do you think we could get a shield up if we needed to?

I mean, uh, you know better than me? Unless you want me to do it without you, in which case, uh, just say when and I'll surround you and... I guess Louise as well? As fast as I can, anyway. I won't be able to watch, though. The fairy seemed very nervous, more than I would have expected for a basically newborn creature without a lot of context, but I guess she was taking a lot of cues from me, and I was scared shitless.

"Do not move. Keep your hands in the air."

In the moments that followed, the numbness faded and I started to get a better grasp on the situation, in that nobody did anything and nothing happened. Clearly, this was something they were doing to everyone who left, and not something specifically targeting me. That did nothing to relieve the knot of terror inside of me, but it at least let me consider the situation a little more rationally. Whoever they were hunting, any dungeoneer at our level would be enough to take out a least two or three soldiers if they decided to fight--well, maybe Louise would only be able to get one, if she decided that she was going to try, which she wouldn't. Where I'd been, power-wise, when I entered the dungeon, I might have taken out all the soldiers with a few hitpoints left, or I might have died; it was hard to tell, and it did matter what kind of weapons the soldiers were pointing at me, with what ammunition. Someone like Bo... well, I had no idea, but in my head I thought that this group wouldn't be enough to stop me if I really tried, and I figured Bo was still a lot stronger than me.

Finally, a man I thought was the Corporal who'd given us the warning when we went was driven over in a jeep, and he held up a small handheld tablet of some kind, as though comparing it to me, and then passed it to someone else.

"You are Jerry Applebee, Soulforged Dungeoneer, currently on probation for murder?" His voice was loud and clear over the drizzling rain and the sound of idling tank engines.

"I am." I wasn't going to lie about that, even though it was growing increasingly likely that whatever the hell this shitshow was, I was not going to get out of it unscathed.

"Jerry Applebee, for violating your probation and with guidance from the United States Dungeoneers Association I hereby place you under arrest. Any attempt to resist arrest will be met with lethal force."

My head spun as I considered the words. That, frankly, didn't make any sense. I'd gone into a dungeon twice after getting out of prison, and everyone involved had known who I was... right? Why now? I hadn't done anything since I got into Armand Bayou... except scare the shit out of Brock Beetle, and that was his problem, not mine. After all, Priestesses could tell lies, and he had no actual complaints against me, not that would pass that kind of screening.

"What is this about?" I kept my eyes on the Lieutenant, or whatever, as he designated a pair of people to approach me with weapons drawn, and some kind of handcuffs out and ready. I'd gone to jail when I did something wrong, but this whole situation stank.

"Don't bother resisting," was all the Corporal said, but he seemed to already be treating this situation as though it was over, as though he just needed to go through the motions, now. I clenched my teeth and watched the two approaching.

No. No, not when they won't tell me what's going on, not when the whole situation feels like a lie. Not when lives are on the line, not when they're treating this like they can do any damn thing they please. Hit the shields.

Merry, to her credit, was fast. I could probably have done it as quickly, but she was struggling with the interface, and still got shields around myself and Louise in a blink. I took control from her a moment later, and the shields got stronger, more consistent, but she at least was able to get them in place.

The two approaching went wide-eyed and dropped to the deck. The Lieutenant tensed and screamed at me, as though the reason I acted was because I didn't understand, rather than because I did. "Deactivate your ability! STAND DOWN! We WILL shoot!"

"I'd like to talk with whoever's in charge," I said, calmly. "Preferably in private."

"OPEN FIRE!"

Behind me, Louise dropped to the ground, which made the task of shielding her easier. I also materialized the riot shield and held it out, but with the number of bullets shot, that item simply didn't have the strength to hold up. My telekinesis, too, wasn't really designed to stop bullets--but I pushed my will into it as hard as I could, Merry connecting me to the deeper parts of the power, and although I lost a shit-ton of mana, nothing that would have hit me got through.

I suppose, looking back on it, I might have seemed a bit badass, as I just stood there, and as an afterthought, pulsed the shield to make the bullets I'd caught rain down around me. At the time, though, I was mostly just terrified. This wasn't like dealing with Dungeon monsters--if I went and tried to kill these people, I'd be a wanted man across America, and maybe the world. At the same time, I was pretty sure I couldn't let them to what they wanted, either.

"I'd like to speak to whoever's in charge," I repeated.

"Hold your fire," snapped the Corporal, and spoke to someone else quickly. To me, after a moment, he said, with the practiced unpleasantness that comes from relaying orders from above, he simplified the situation for me. "Mr. Applebee, I am on orders to take you into custody on behalf of the Dungoneer's Association. Those orders are non-negotiable, and if you are continue to resist, we are authorized to call in reinforcements. Unfortunately for you, Mr. Applebee, the closest of those reinforcements is already here. I would advise you to stop resisting and be taken into our custody willingly."

I frowned back at the man. If it was a request from the USDA, it wasn't because I violated parole. But, it also didn't sound like this was some kind of protective custody thing, nothing that Harry would have had a role in. So what the ever-loving hell was going on?

I didn't force the issue, instead waiting to see whoever was brought in. I knew when he arrived, of course; even if he wasn't brought directly to the Corporal on a jeep, I could see the number over his head--75, still within the range to have gone into this dungeon--so there was no question that he was a Dungeoneer. They exchanged a few words, and then the new guy, with a rude and dismissive hand gesture, walked past the man, and forward through the squad of soldiers.

And... he was a Dungoneer. I mean... I mean, he was a guy. His defining characteristic wasn't that he was in uniform, or that he had military posture, or that he carried around a staff or a sword or something. If anything, his defining characteristic was his sweat-stained white tank top over his tubby belly, or maybe his balding, Italian head. Maybe even... were those sweatpants? Sweatpants and sandals? On a military base?

"Hey, hey, put your guns down, guys, I'll handle this," he said to the soldiers as he passed, in what I thought was a New York accent of some kind, but I was no expert. "Believe me, hey, HEY! Watch where you're pointing that. I got this covered." After walking backwards a bit, he turned and, apparently, had not expected to be already up to my shield, because he got wide-eyed when he realized he had almost run into it, and backed up. "Whoa! Hey, easy pal, I'm not gonna hurt you. Well," he paused a moment and shrugged. "Not unless I have to. Come on, let's talk inside for a minute, okay? Hey!" He turned to yell at the soldiers. "I'mma take him inside. I won't let him get away, so just cool your fukkin' jets for a minute, alright? Alright." He didn't wait for permission, and instead moved around my shield and past me.

I looked down and back at Louise, and told her, quietly, "Just move over there. You're not who they're after, and I'm pretty sure I'll be fine." She scrambled up and moved aside, and although I could tell, with my telekinetic sense, that the others were watching her, even kept guns trained on her, most of the focus was still on me.

I stepped into the tent, tightening the telekinetic shield but not releasing it.

The man had popped a stool of some kind out of his inventory and sat down as soon as he was out of sight of the others, and as soon as I let the tent flap close, he started talking. "Alright, so, before we get to any part of this discussion that we might regret, lemmie set a few ground rules for you, make a few things clear. A lot of people think they're stronger than me because I look like shit, and I know that, alright? I'm a specialist. I didn't wanna be, believe me. I wanted to be a baker. I got my first dungeon levels, and you know, I said to myself, I'll get myself some dexterity, maybe some of those abilities that let you do stuff, you know, make me a better baker."

"Only you know, I know, once you go into the dungeon, you gotta kill to keep going. I wanted to be a baker, but it seemed like everything I did just made it harder for me to get along. I'd tag along with a group of guys, and they was nice guys, they helped me along, but they always said Henry, c'mon man, you're not helping. I felt like shit for a long time, you know?"

"But I was always trying to make do with the skill I have, make it better, you know. It's a specialist skill, it lets me control food." As if to demonstrate, he pulled a package out of his pocket--some snack cake, from what I could tell, and he made it float, and suddenly the food inside started twisting and deforming, while still keeping the frosting cover over it intact. "Not very fucking useful in a dungeon, right? Everyone says that. They say Henry, why you go into the Dungeon, man, you're a baker."

"And then bam, it hits me," he said, and his voice didn't sound like he was enjoying the story. "It hits me and my life was never the same, you know? We're all made of meat." Suddenly, he gestured with his hand, and the snack cakes flew off to the side, leaving nothing between him and me. "You, me, and the Dungeon monsters, we're all made of meat. Well, not all of them. Rock golems and shit ain't, but eh, I deal with it." His mouth worked for a moment, like maybe he wanted to cry, or spit, or sneeze, or something, but it passed. "I got good at it. I didn't want to, but eh, it's a living, you know? And then the day comes when someone asks me to stop a criminal. And I say, I don't wanna do that, my power, you know? It's deadly. They say yeah, that's the point, we're here to stop 'em at all costs, you know? And I did it, and I regretted it, but I did it."

"So this is where we are, buddy, you an' me." He gestured to me with his hands, as though he wanted me to come close, but I didn't. He didn't seem to care. "You're strong, or they wouldn't ask me to come out and stop you. You got your shield thing, eh, looks pretty formidable. I bet they tried shooting you and it didn't work. But my power is different. You're not gonna block it with shields. And if I try to kill you, if I really try to kill you, you'll be dead before you can kill me, I fukken guarantee it. I've had to kill people before, Mr, uh..."

"Applebee."

"Mr. Applebee." He reached out as though to put a hand on my shoulder, but my shields were still up. He, again, didn't seem bothered. "I've had to kill people with this power before. Believe me, when I do, I don't sleep at night. Nobody wants to think of people as being made of meat, but you are, and as long as you are made of meat, Mr. Applebee, I can kill you, I guarantee."

"Now, Mr. Applebee, with that outta the way, let's you and me talk." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his stool. "'Cos honestly, I have no fucking idea what's going on around here. What the hell have you done that's got them so upset?"

I only wished I knew.