Soulforged Dungeoneer

Henry, the apparently fucking lethal Baker Dungeoneer that the locals had roped into stopping me, let me fumble around trying to explain what the hell was going on for a minute, before starting to lose patience.

"Alright, look, let's start from the ground up. You killed anyone lately, Mr. Applebee?"

"Not since I got out of jail for murder," I replied, deadpan.

"Well, okay, fair enough. Any kidnapping, theft, anything like that?"

"No, but I can think of one asshole who would probably claim I was stalking him. I wasn't." I crossed my arms over my chest, still not letting go of my shield, even though I believed Henry when he said it wouldn't help against his power.

"Broken any other laws I should know about?"

"I'm probably in violation of my parole," I admitted. "But the guy out there said the reason I'm being arrested is because the Association asked."

"Eh," Henry waved that away. "I mean yeah, if that's the reason, then it's not the lawyers mad about your parole, I don't think. Make any enemies, lately?"

My mind went to the conversation I had with Vlad. "Not directly. I've been told some people want to kill me anyway."

"Fukken great. Why am I even asking you." He got up and walked over to the tent flap, sticking his head out, and then yanking it back. "JESUS! Guys, put the guns down, it's just me. Hey, you! The hell is he being arrested for, anyway?" There was a pause, in which I couldn't hear what was said, and then Henry walked out. "What do you mean I'm not--"

I waited, listening to voices I couldn't make out for a while, before Henry came back.

"Alright, listen," he said, and I thought he was in a bad mood. "I'm not a military guy but apparently this is a paygrade thing, as in, a decision made by some real asshole in the chain of command that we can't do shit about. So, look. I'm not gonna put you in cuffs--I don't need em and you'd just break em, am I right? But you're gonna come with me to the Association and we're gonna work this shit out, alright?"

I wanted to say yes, and I wanted to say no, both at once. If the Association had sent me to be arrested--then walking in was likely to leave me in just a fucking terrible place surrounded by people who could keep me detained forever, and Henry, as nice as he was trying to be, couldn't stop that if he tried. I'd have a better chance if Harry were here to help, but even then, that wasn't a sure thing--and he might just teleport us away, leaving this whole mess to stew or be resolved by third parties unknown. At the same time...

At the same time, I wanted to do the right thing. Henry was clearly trying to do the right thing, too. I wanted to negotiate, and...

I shook my head. "Before we do that, I have some information I want to give the people here about the problems in the Dungeon."

"Oh, boy, that mess. I was just in there with a team of guys; it's all fucked up. They got their hands on some kind of real monster, and he fucking killed the team we sent in, except for me and another guy. Why, what do you know about it?"

I blinked, and then nodded after a minute. Of course, if he was more lethal than usual, and could just do that damage without worrying about armor... "I, uh... well, there are a lot of things to explain, and I'd rather not say it too many times."

"I'm not sticking my neck out to drag a military officer in here unless I know it's something worth my time," said Henry, looking... a little smug, maybe? I couldn't quite put my finger on the emotion he was radiating.

"I... have a quest from the Dungeon Administrator to kill the person responsible. I contacted a friend of mine and I know who the guy is, and what happened to him to make him end up... turned against us."

Henry sat there, and I could swear it seemed like he was expecting me to have nothing useful to say. After a minute, though, his smugness seemed to wear off as his brain caught up with his ears. He rolled his eyes, his head lolled forward, he sighed, and then he stood up, heading for the door again. "Alright, look, give me a minute, alright?"

I gave him a minute, that became fifteen minutes or so, before he returned.

"Alright, look, we're gonna have a conversation on the base, but in a secure room, not here. Come on. And drop your shield, for fuck's sake, nobody's gonna shoot you."

We made it about two hundred feet before someone shot me.

To be fair, the person who shot me wasn't a soldier, and in fact we later realized it wasn't a person at all. I'm not sure I ever learned afterwards how the trap was set up, but some kind of detector linked with some kind of automated sniper rifle took a pot shot at me as soon as I got within sight of the damn thing. Which was fine, because I hadn't actually dropped my shield, because I didn't trust anyone in the military-controlled base that wanted to arrest me for no goddamn reason. Call me paranoid.

The second thing that the trap did, apparently, was trigger some kind of teleporter or something, because out of fucking nowhere, a woman dressed in all black cloth with two large curved blades--I want to say they were Arabian style sabers of some kind, but that's a rough estimate; they were Dungeon loot, so who knows, anyway?--fell out of the sky, looking prepared to deal death to one specific person who I'm pretty sure she expected to surrounded by two low-ish-level people in an otherwise empty or at least distracted military base.

Instead of, you know, me surrounded by two squads of armed soldiers, escorted by a high level Dungeoneer, and also still roughly in the sights of two main battle tanks. Also, in all likelihood, she was expecting me to have been shot and to not have a passive telekinetic sense that told me exactly where she was, though the last didn't matter because I wasn't really allowed to attack her, under the circumstances.

She was clearly an agility-type fighter, but that didn't matter whatsoever to the result. I felt... bad, even as I understood exactly what was going on. I felt pity, honestly. As she was very quickly surrounded and detained, by a lot of very angry, very paranoid men with guns, I did my best to speak over them, mostly out of schadenfreude.

"Hey, hey, hey!" When my voice was not sufficient, I tried putting extra effort into it, trying to get that resonance I'd had when I spoke to Jenna, earlier. "Hey! Calm down, boys, it's alright."

"You fucking know this bitch?" asked Henry, clearly holding some kind of power over her.

"No, never met her before in my life." I... I don't know why I felt smug, but I did, and I felt like I should. After all, all the people here were so damn sure they understood what was going on, weren't they? "But I know why she's here."

Henry rolled his eyes, playing along with my obvious baiting. "Alright, smart-guy, why--"

"She's an assassin sent to kill me." I moved over to her, muscling aside a soldier who wasn't eager enough to move with my shield, and knelt down before her. "I was told by a Russian man with mob ties that there were a few people who wanted to do that. Am I wrong?"

The assassin, because that's clearly what she was, looked down in defeat, but said nothing.

"Why the fuck are you being targeted--no, you know what, never mind. Fucking cuff her and we'll figure this shit out later." Henry banged on my shield with a fist, in lieu of being able to do the same to my shoulder or whatever. "You, come on. We're gonna go talk to the Colonel."

And then I suppose god decided that when it rains, it should really fucking pour, I heard a sound I was not expecting--certainly not at that moment. And as I looked up into the sky, I just honestly couldn't figure out in my head whether or not I was happy to see Harold Spongecake hanging there, looking down on me and the scene around me, his obscenely thick spellbook open, the pages rippling as though he was looking through it for a certain page--but his other hand was by his side. Enchanted? I didn't really care, not at that moment.

"What is going on here?"

Of course, what with an assassin having just fucking appeared in midair before he got there, and everyone still being on guard because I wasn't cooperating, a whole bunch of people screamed at him that he was to stop what he was doing and that there would be no second warning.

Harry needed no second warning. I don't think he really needed the first warning.

Harry's spellbook flipped to a certain page and stopped, and he spoke in a eerily resonant monotone. "Death to all bullets." The black wave that poured out of him was slow enough to be easily visible, more like a black wind than a shockwave, but when people shot bullets at him, they vanished into that black-edged space around him. Without stopping, that wind flowed over everyone nearby, and over the tanks, and indeed most of the base. "Gentlemen, my name is Harold Spongecake and I represent the both the United States and the International Dungeoneer's Association. I am here for Jerry Applebee, who is a friend of mine and of the Association. I would suggest that you not interfere."

"Fuckin' hell," snapped Henry, as he clearly went from suppressing the assassin to trying to suppress Harry. "Somebody shoot this asshole!"

Aside from the fact that it hadn't worked before, some fumbling from the soldiers who were standing there quickly produced a number of frustrated shouts. "My bullets are gone!" snapped one close by, a cry repeated by several more.

Harry, though, clearly felt something from the baker's attack, because his spellbook flipped to a new page, and he pointed ominously at Henry. "Death to your Mana." Out of his finger came a burning black beam, one which pierced Henry cleanly through the chest, and I could instantly feel something disappear from him.

I swallowed, and glanced around. If all bullets were dead, and Harry could neutralize mana-based skills... also, well, if he could just neutralize mana, then even if he couldn't pronounce me dead, there was no question he could have beaten me at any time, as tough as I sometimes felt like I was. I hadn't even encountered a mana-drain effect yet, and that was clearly a strong one.

I, uh, I'm glad he's on our side, yeah. Right now we've got the biggest guns, yeah?

Sooner or later, I had to teach Merry not to tempt fate.

I don't know exactly what drew my attention to her at first. A woman who must have been standing idly on the other side of a wall walked around the corner. I wasn't looking at her, didn't know she was there, but somehow, the moment she stepped onto the base, I knew. And, judging by several other people turning to look at the same moment, I wasn't alone--dungeoneers, soldiers, even Harry turned to look.

She was a tallish woman, in what I guess would be a fairly business-casual suit, with polished black knee-high leather boots, with no heels. I'd like to say something like her eyes blazed with light or something, but instead of there being a visual effect, I could just tell that this was a stronger woman than I'd ever met. The level, over her head, confirmed that instantly: 999, higher than Harry or any of the monsters that he'd introduced me to. She waved a hand at Harry, and he was smashed down from the sky into the pavement, like he was a fly she'd swatted, if a fly was ever dumb enough to just hold position in midair.

When she spoke, her voice was immediately audible to everyone, but quietly. She was intense, but she was just deciding to be intense; it didn't take effort, that much was clear. "My name is Allison Cream. If you don't recognize me, that's your problem, not mine. On behalf of the United States Government, I order everyone here to stand down." Her eyes swiveled to me, and I knew that she was considering how to phrase this. "Stay exactly where you are. Do not attempt to escape, and do not cause anyone any harm."

Why the hell is this happening to me? I just kept my hands and my shields raised, gratified that at the very least, she hadn't asked me to drop them--probably as much because that wouldn't help me, as anything.

Hey, uh, boss, offered Merry. I think I can do to her what I did to the librarian inside. She has some kind of thing I can see.

Inwardly, I frowned at her. If you can learn something, do it, but don't try to fight her. We are definitely on the losing end of the power scale here.

Again, I felt Merry's hand press against the outside of my mind, and I thought I saw Allison's eyes flick to me, for a moment, before Harry stood up, his spellbook flickering. "High Priestess Cream," he offered, his voice strained as if he was struggling against some kind of pressure. "Why are you here? And why have you attacked me? I'm a member--"

The pulse that rolled off of Allison Cream was more like a shockwave than a wind, and I could see no evidence of exactly what she did to trigger it. When it rolled over Harry, he was knocked backwards off his feet, but nobody else seemed affected--not even me. "If you are under the mistaken impression, Harold, that what you just did wasn't assaulting active duty military officers, then perhaps you need something to clear your head. A few years in prison might do it." Her eyes, I felt, landed on me after that. "It's been known to work miracles at times, even when someone keeps trying to undermine our efforts."

I just stood there, not really sure what to do. Most of the soldiers, also, had not actually put their weapons down, as though they hadn't yet internalized the idea that there were no bullets left on base, assuming that Harry's spell was as effective as he made it sound.

"And you," she said, moving swiftly towards me, faster than a human would have been able to cross that... probably two hundred feet? It was a lot, but she still didn't look hurried. "Engineering an escape from a military base, refusing to follow direct orders from a military command, resisting arrest... you certainly seem to think that this escapade is all about your entertainment."

That...

"I was not originally in agreement with the idea that you would be taken forcibly into custody, but it seems my faith in you was misplaced. You are under arrest, and except when given orders, you will remain in prison until you have served--"

I don't honestly know why I thought it was a good idea; I really don't. It wasn't a good idea. It was more... catharsis, I guess? A release of pent up emotion--rage, fury, hatred, anger, something like that. I'm not really good with putting names on emotions.

Anyway, uh, I picked up every human being, tank, and other vehicle in the military base, except myself and Allison. With telekinesis, I mean, if that wasn't clear. I... um... probably shouldn't have been able to do it, even with direct access to all the power of the skill. No, I guess I must have also goosed the "throttle" on the "engine" like I did when I first met Merry, because I could tell that whatever was happening, it was more power than I should have had by a couple orders of magnitude. It also really, really fucking hurt, and I knew that it was going to cost me a lot, later.

It was worth it to see Allison Cream, one level shy of a thousand, actually look fucking intimidated by someone around level forty.

"All I have ever asked since I walked out of the dungeon," I said, gambling--not that it was really a gamble--that this so-called High Priestess could, inherently, tell lies from truth, "was to be allowed to fucking speak."

She swallowed, and stared at me, saying nothing.

"I have information about why and how people are dying in this dungeon," I said, as concisely as my fury-ridden little brain would let me be, "and I have been trying, since before anyone pointed any goddamn guns at me, to give that information to the powers that be, so that more innocent people do not have to die. And you, miss Allison Cream, miss High Priestess, dare to impugn my honor. You dare to say that I have done wrong, that my motives are suspect, that I am a liar, a cheater, a manipulator. I was assaulted with the intent to murder by these men, and I have had this power the entire time." As emphasis, I mentally grabbed the two tanks a brought them, gun-barrel to gun-barrel, in between the two of us. "Do not dare to suggest that I was trying to get away with something. If I wanted to get away with something I would be gone, or at the very least, you would be fucking chasing me. You aren't chasing me because I chose not to run, and I chose not to run because I want to fucking help."

Although I wasn't aware of it or intending it, apparently, around this time I started gripping the two battle tanks too tightly, because when I went to let them down, there were, uh, giant handprints on them, more or less, crunching the steel armor plates and bending the gun barrels. None of that steel was thin, or weak. I don't... uh, don't really know where that power came from. I shouldn't have had it. I wasn't thinking about it at the time, either. I barely even noticed those details, even as I, with a little help from a very silent little fairy, very gently and carefully put everyone back down on the ground.

"I don't know who you are, Miss Cream," I said, as I started to feel an enormous headache sweeping over me. "I don't know who the hell you think you represent. But if you believe in using and abusing lethal force to get your way, I want nothing to do with you. And given that all I want to do is help..." I realized, almost after the fact, that I was losing a battle to stay conscious, as a wave of pain crawled up... maybe mental arms or something, I don't know, and started feeding back into the root of my mind, my self, "...maybe that ought to give you some fucking pause."

And then I passed out, which left me with the last word and not much else.