Becoming Monsters: I'm Blue Ch. 32

Becoming Monsters is the creation of AiLovesToGrow, setting used with permission.

The idea for this story comes from Amethyst Dragonfly. Quiverbow is the creation of Domochevsky (and the Hammerwald weapon is based on the foam flinger he engineered by the same name), Vox the Lich is the creation of QM-Vox (and the Witchlock pistol comes from a story he wrote, Dungeon Life Quest), Wilma is the creation of XelArtz, and Vyrlokar is the creation of… well, Vyrlokar. All characters used with permission. There is also a reference to Elise, the star of Going Batty, late in the chapter.

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Chapter 32: Versus Spy

The sky was blue. It was a nice color, Justin thought, but… perhaps a bit less so given how hard he’d just landed on his back in the sand. Looking up at it from that position was less pleasant than usual. At least the sand up here was relatively soft as landing surfaces went, not like the stuff that was soaked by the tides down by the dock. A different and much more lovely shade of blue, Abbey, appeared in his line of sight. She reached down to help him back onto his feet, which he gladly accepted. Justin started brushing off the sand that was stuck to him. “Abbey, where did you learn that one? I know how far you can throw me when you’re at my size, and this was a bit further.” he looked back towards the circle he’d drawn into the sand, several dozen feet back towards the house. “Quite a bit further.”

Abbey looked in the same direction as the morning sun lit the beach. “Um. Got the idea from a game I played a few times a couple of years before the Change. Tried incorporating a little bit of my shapeshifting into the throw. It, ah, looks like it worked.”

“I’ll say it did. One sec, let me check my Status screen.” Justin didn’t look at the blue screen terribly often, especially compared to the people he’d been working beside for the past couple of days, but he was thankful to have an objective reading on how he was doing after that inelegant landing. “Um, I think I’m done with combat training for today. And tomorrow. Maybe swimming for that workout instead of hand to hand. Any particular reason you’re this enthusiastic about it?”

Abbey shrugged. “You mean besides the obvious?”

“The Marshall kind of made sure that guy wouldn’t be bothering you again, Abs.” Justin couldn’t blame her for some slight paranoia after that incident, no matter how it ended. The fact that she was still happily working at Camp was more a function of the broad support she’d seen from the locals than anything else.

“Besides the chance of there being another one at some point, without any guarantee that you’ll be able to come running to help? I still have a Delver exam to take. You probably should, too, just to make sure you know what people are talking about. That might require at least some fighting.” Her hands were on her hips, the set of her shoulders much more serious than sassy. She slumped a bit. “Do you need any healing? I’m not the best at it, but given how we’re bound, Hearth and Home includes your health now.”

Justin shook his head. “I’ll be fine, and if I’m less fine than I think I am then either Quiverbow or Talonaxe will send me over to the Clerics for a bit. You need to save your MP just as much as I do besides what work is demanding.”

“I guess that will have to do. Coffee should be done brewing, even the huge amount I saw you put on. What was that about? I know we’re not drinking all of that by ourselves.” She sniffed the air. “It definitely smells good, though.”

Justin shrugged. “No good coffee place at the Guild Hall, not to my standards, so I’m bringing some to the shop this morning to help get some of us started. It’s stronger than I usually make here, so you might need to put some extra milk in.”

“That explains why I can smell it over the saltwater all the way out here. Thanks for the warning. Oh, board game night tonight with Todd’s team, don’t go down a rabbit hole at work and forget.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, love.” The two were finished for now, so they got the rest of their morning done. Breakfast, coffee, shower, and through the portal to Camp. One last kiss and they headed off in two different directions, time for a day at work. Justin walked slightly more slowly than usual owing to the carafe of caffeine concentrate in his right hand. It still didn’t take long before he was at the workshop, gently setting the coffee and cups down in order to get his protective leather gloves and apron from the rack.

“Justin! Excellent timing, your first task is to assist Wilhelmina by integrating the Gold threading on the Hammerwald on table two…” Quiverbow, blunt as ever, suddenly stopped. She sniffed the air. “That’s a new smell. You brought something?”

“Yes, ma’am. Coffee, freshly brewed at home. Nothing around camp is up to my standards, and you mentioned the workshop has a lot of projects today.”

“Ah, the hard drugs. As long as you brought enough to share, though I will not indulge.” Quiverbow nodded once, then strode off to another seemingly-random task among the hundreds she was always routinely keeping track of. Justin strode over to the table in question and got to work… after setting the coffee and cups on the desk next to it. As the others cycled through, the ones who didn’t have a System-acquired coffee allergy gratefully poured themselves some extra motivation and got to work.

Before too long, a ping pulled Justin’s attention from the nearly-completed threading. There was a customer at the front counter. He looked around, seeing nobody else in a spot they could pause, and took the two steps to the door. Outside were a few folks, apparently only one (a skeletal-looking Lich in purple robes that Justin didn’t recognize) knew to just ring the bell. Justin got to work taking a couple of special orders from some Humans wearing Longshot Guild badges, then took payment from a four-armed and incredibly bulky man for a bundle of arrows. As that customer walked off, the Lich sniffed the air. His voice was only a bit raspy as he asked “do I smell coffee?”

“Yes, sir, brewed it myself. I think there’s a cup or two left if you’d like.”

“Hah, a full-service shop.” He laid a revolver on the table, the face of the hammer seemingly carved with half of a magic circle. “I’m here to pick up ammunition for my Witchlock, and some coffee since you’re offering it.”

“Yes, sir.” Justin ducked inside to grab both items, but Quiverbow was there with a curious look on her face.

“That voice seems familiar. Did you get a name?”

“No, ma’am, it’s a Lich who wanted Witchlock ammo and some of my coffee.”

There was no warning at all before she shouted towards the front. “VOX! What are you doing here, you caffeine-preserved bag of bones? Finished scribbling your book yet?” Quiverbow strode out to the counter with Justin close behind carrying the items. She struck up a conversation with the Lich as though they’d known each other for half of eternity, barely noticing when Justin turned to assist the next customer.

He was a Ratfolk of some kind, smaller and hunched a bit. “I hear this is the best weapon crafting place in Camp?”

Justin nodded, prepared to launch into the standard advertisement welcome, but felt like this wouldn’t be the right way to go. “We are, sir. Quiverbow’s Ranged Weaponry specializes in the most lethal firearms and bows in the country. As you can see from our displays,” Justin gestured at the racks of said firearms and bows, “we are ready to supply just about any of your Delving needs.”

The Rat nodded. “Any throwing daggers?” He reached up and dropped a bag on the counter. It clinked. This man was willing to spend some serious Coinage on something that typically was not expensive as enchantments went. Relative terms, of course, but he could purchase a dozen of what he wanted for the price of one of Quiverbow’s pistols.

Justin thought for a moment. “None currently in stock, sir, but we do make them here. I’m sure that whatever you need, we can get it done in a timely manner by custom order.”

The Rat also thought for a moment before shaking his head. “I need it for tonight, so perhaps not this time.” He reached up and grabbed the bag of coins to put it back on his belt, then turned away.

“You forgot something.” Vox the Lich was looking over at them, his conversation suddenly interrupted. His eye sockets were glowing with a threatening purple light, and his Witchlock revolver was in his right hand… and cocked with an ominous click, despite the muzzle being down.

The Rat’s back straightened, and he looked at the counter. “Oh! Thank you, I’ll need those tonight.” He reached up again and grabbed a nearly-invisible set of what looked like ball bearings before scurrying off. All three people still standing at the counter watched him go. The pressure of the Lich’s gaze was matched only by the steely force of Quiverbow’s.

***

To be fair, they were right to do so. The Rat kept walking, staying as calm as he possibly could as the Enchanter pulled out something to scan her counter for unwanted items. That had been close, he’d nearly been caught. If Quiverbow’s was off the table… and now that they’d repelled his attempt they’d be on the lookout for another… he needed to go down the target list. Next on the list was one that often saw small explosions. His would likely be overlooked as a tragic accident. The Open Tent, where Enchanters went to practice and discuss. Where random small services were lined up. Where accidents happened, and a lot of Delvers would be there for it. He sat at an empty table near the service line, a bit noisier than most people liked. Good, it let him pull out those nice little beads again. When he dropped them on the ground, though, they didn’t keep rolling.

He expected them to make the quiet tick sound of metal on a hard surface when they bounced, but the problem was that they only bounced once. It looked for a split second like gravity just decided to ignore them. After they tapped the ground, they just floated back upwards. A green glow coalesced around them, one that extended into a hand, then an arm, then a petite woman’s body seated in the chair across from him. Her head was fox-like with outsized ears. Probably a Fennec, in fairly plain colors and earth-toned clothing. Other than her Guild badge, showing a tornado and lightning bolts. “You dropped these, lucky I was here.” She laid the beads on the table between them. “I’m Wilma, from the Stormbreakers.”

The Rat had to hide just exactly how high his heart rate spiked for the second time in less than ten minutes. Even among Delvers that kind of entrance was dramatic. “Thank you, Wilma. Darned things keep slipping out, guess that’s the problem with getting them made so lightweight. Gonna need them later.” He picked them up again, placing them gently into their pouch.

“I see.” She very plainly didn’t believe him for a second. “You may want to leave here. Random sources of magic in the Open Tent are not appreciated, too many effects are going on for that to be safe. We wouldn’t want someone to accidentally set something off or suffer Resonance Shock.”

He deliberately widened his eyes at that statement. “Oh! That makes sense, ma’am. But if so many random things are happening here, why does one more make that much of a difference? I’m not a crafter, myself, but I’d like to know these things.”

There were a hundred ways for her to answer, as well he knew, and the fact that she chose “Because everyone else is following safety and containment procedures at the counters and tables, while you didn’t bother even activating the circle on yours,” told him more than anything that the jig was up.

He nodded at her. “Of course. I’ll go.” The Rat stood and walked out of the tent, struggling to keep calm as he felt her eyes on him. His walking pace as he left Crafter’s Row by the shortest route available was perhaps a bit faster than before. With two attempts now halted, he needed to get clear of this area. He’d normally leave Camp entirely, but he was being paid well to do this today. Half of that would go away if he had to try again after sunset. Time to do something a bit riskier. At least the payoff would be much higher if it worked. There was a gaggle of people heading towards the Main Hall. Even if his particular weapons of choice weren’t going to get to where the administrators or the Marshall were working, they’d cause plenty of extremely visible chaos out front. That was the kind of thing that would interrupt the function of the whole Camp for a week. Not like what he tried with the zombies the other day, their controller had barely wasted an hour before getting back to his work.

The group he was blending in with passed through the front doors of the Hall, opening into a relatively narrow slice of the front of the building that was full of displays. Posters showing famous Delvers with Guild badges by their side as appropriate, reminders on where to go for licenses and renewals, a table full of pamphlets, and even a stack of scavenger hunts for the littles. In the middle of the area was a woman with blue skin and pointed ears, wearing a white business suit. Quite fetching, really. She kept on glancing up at something as the group walked in. People kept asking her questions, she kept smoothly pointing people to the resources they needed. Then she cut herself off mid-sentence, glancing again up at the spot right above the door. The Rat realized that it was just as he crossed into the room itself. Right at the upper edge of his hearing, there was a quiet but very high-pitched tone.

She excused herself from her current conversation and walked over, stopping him before he could get even two steps further. “Excuse me, I need you to leave.”

He did his best to look puzzled. “What’s wrong… Abbey?” He read her name off a name tag, noting also the bright gold wedding band on the hand she was gesturing with.

“Weapons are allowed in here, but not mass ones like the sensors say that you are carrying. No need to worry about personal honor or monster attacks in this office. There are too many people coming through who might not be able to defend themselves if accidents happen. Go put them away before coming back.”

The Rat could see past her, and another of the administrators appeared behind the counter. This one was a somewhat fox-like woman, no telling precisely what species, but she was armed and looked like she knew what she was doing with the rapier at her side. Too many variables. “Of course, of course, my apologies. I’m new here, didn’t realize you distinguish by type.” He lied smoothly, excusing himself, and high tailed it out of there. Just like the last two times, he could feel her gaze on his back as he did.

Getting more irritated at the increasing string of failures and running out of potential targets, the Rat glanced at his watch. It was already lunch time. Maybe that would be an opportunity of its own? A new stall had opened up at one end of the Food Court area, and like nearly all such things it was drawing a crowd. This one would be impossible to hide as an accident, but as long as he could get away cleanly he wouldn’t have to. It would make the Camp look weak. Didn’t take long to find, either, and he got into line for it without too much incident. Might as well get some food while he was here, drop the bomblets near the front, then he could get clear.

The sounds of hard work attracted his gaze. This pizza place might be the newest one on the block and thus at the end, but next to it was an open lot. One that was being cleared by several people. One, his back turned but his head looking skeletal, yelled at the others over the noise.

"¡La madre que lo parió! ¡Arreando que es gerundio! No le daremos a esa maldita rata otra oportunidad"

The Rat’s blood practically froze in his veins. How many freaking Liches were in this place? That one was the one he’d almost gotten a couple of days before, too, but he thought he’d gotten away clean. But now here he was yelling about hurrying up so they wouldn’t give a rat another chance? No paycheck was worth sticking around after hearing that. That guy had it out for him personally, and the Rat felt like he’d rather a death be the end of it and not the beginning of indefinite service to a Necromancer. The Seattle Guild Hall was too hard of a target. He would not be succeeding at his mission today, and the earlier he cut his losses the less likely it would be to go completely wrong. He stepped out of the line and started walking swiftly towards the parking lot, muttering about forgetting something in the car for the benefit of anyone listening.

He almost made it, too. The sun was shining brightly through the partially-cloudy skies (as the locals called it, “Washington Sunny”), but a shadow fell wrong. The Rat had been doing this for long enough to know trouble was near, and rapidly shifted course. Down a random lane in Camp, towards what seemed to be an entertainment area meant for tourists and visitors. The somewhat denser crowd should help him stay safer, even if his stomach complained about the vile mistreatment he was giving it by stepping out of the food line. Despite the target-rich environment, though, he KNEW he was being watched. Any attempts to do anything untoward here would end badly. For him, not necessarily the Camp.

A sudden shift in the motion of the crowd came to his attention. Was it a show that was starting? Was it someone hunting him, subtly jostling the people around them? There was no way to know in time to stay safe. The crowd suddenly thinned, he’d accidentally emerged from one side while trying to spot his pursuer. Turning around would make it too obvious, then he’d be in a WORLD of problems. Thinking fast, he ducked into a nearby structure. Bathrooms, a shack basically devoted to them, half men’s and half women’s. The door creaked slowly shut behind him. Not exactly the best solution, but maybe he could get out through one of the high windows to escape after waiting a bit.

Once more, a flicker of motion was the only warning. The slightest blur in the bathroom mirror and suddenly he was wrapped in metallic-feeling cords ending in solid weights. Bolas. The force of impact coupled with a sudden yank from something at his ankles toppled him over, and it was all he could do to land on his shoulder and roll slightly to see who or what his assailant was.

A fairly pretty blonde girl as it turned out, wearing clothing so casual and generic that he doubted he’d be able to accurately describe it later, and looking barely outside of college age. She’d probably been tailing his tail in the crowds themselves. “Alrighty, then, let’s see what the Catfolk dragged in.”

“Very funny, you come up with that joke yourself or read it fifty times?” He wiggled a bit as he tried to get a better position to try to do something, anything, but the cords only seemed to tighten.

“Tut, tut, none of that. The cables were made by one of the foremost BDSM experts in Seattle and you don’t know the safe word they’re set to.” She walked up, pulling out a dagger. It didn’t look enchanted, but the edge seemed plenty sharp enough even without that. “And it doesn’t really matter where I got the joke. You’re the one on the ground and I’m the one with the knife. Now talk. Who sent you?”

The Rat’s shrug was somewhat lessened by his bindings. All things considered, he was just glad they didn’t include a ball gag. “You know I couldn’t tell you that even if I wanted to. Handler makes the contact and sends the missions. Some guy from out of state with more money than he should have is all I know.”

“Pity. You had to do one thing right today, didn’t you? Ah, well. You can tell me your assignment, though. Nobody drops explosives like that on a whim. Too much can go wrong. Too easy to get a bit.. tied up, shall we say.” The woman’s face was split by a sardonic grin, the knife now pointed directly at his chest. “Especially when one of your targets seemed to be my best friend. I kind of had to take offense to that one.”

The Rat gulped, hard. “Can’t even say I blame you. Nothing personal, though, I don’t even know who you’re talking about. Nobody was targeted specifically. Just chaos and mayhem, anything loud and embarrassing that puts a damper on Dungeon Expo West. If it forced cancellation, even better, you know? Real black eye to degrade the Camp permanently.”

She chewed on that information for a bit, neither her gaze nor the tip of the knife wavering. “And I don’t suppose your services come cheap? Nah, don’t answer that, don’t really care. If you’re expensive, it was a waste. If you’re cheap, whoever hired you was an idiot. And you’re an idiot right with him. So look, I’m sure you figured it out, but there’s a lot going on under the surface around here. Heck, I’m kind of new myself, but since I got a bestie around here I’m not about to let you ruin a good thing.”

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to get his mind off of both the knife she held and the sense of impending doom that was creeping in. “This place has got some security, not gonna lie. Real collective effort kind of place, can’t dodge security when it’s everyone, everywhere, all the time. Sounds like a nervous kind of life, but what do I know? I’m just the guy trying to get through it.” He shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve ever been in this particular position before, though. Especially not without a safe word. How did you even find me, anyway? I know what I was trying to do, but you weren’t there for any of them.”

“Game recognizes game, as they say, and I marked you as a Spy the second I saw you. I’ve been following you since you left the Open Tent. The explosives aren’t fooling anyone. At least, not anyone important. The only reason you weren’t dead before I got to you is because nobody felt like cleaning up the bloodstains or doing the paperwork afterwards.”

“Fine. You got me, I’m gone. No need to worry about a saboteur around here again, none of my buddies will want to take it up after I report this.”

Her knife moved over a few inches, to point at the tendons of his right wrist. “Oh, I don’t think that’s good enough, do you?”