Firstborn of the Frontier

No good deed goes unpunished.

That's the thought that comes to mind as I wake up in the all-too-familiar confines of the hospital barracks. A proper hospital mind you, not the office Uncle Art set up in his house next door so he could see patients in a calmer, quieter, and most importantly, private setting. Thing is, the lack of walls makes a huge difference after a bad attack like today's, with an unholy din no different from a battlefield. In a way, the hospital is a battlefield, except instead of fighting Abby, outlaws, or enemy soldiers, the doctors and nurses wage war against mortality. Sometimes it's a frantic scuffle of needle and scalpel as they suture, staple, and Staunch life-threatening wounds as best they can, and other times is a quiet acceptance of futile efforts as they do what they can to make their patients as comfortable as possible in their final moments on the Frontier.

That's what I wake to, the clatter of trays and cries of the dying coming together in a dirge of loss and trauma. To my right, a child cries for a mother who is nowhere to be found, while over on the other side, a man screams and thrashes in agony as nurses and orderlies fight to hold him down so they can treat what ails him. That's just my immediate neighbours mind you, and while Harpies ain't nothing but flying Gobbos, they both baseline Abby for good reason. Whatever Proggie done crafted them has had more than a decade to perfect their blueprint and make them as efficient and effective as possible. Weak and fragile, but small and mobile too, making them hard to hit for your average shooter who ain't used to keeping their cool in a pinch. Add in their Feral instincts that make their blood go hot enough to ignore their own safety, and you got yourself a bunch of dive-bombing Harpies who care more about killing you than staying alive.

And sometimes, that's all you really need to come out on top. The best defense is a good offense after all, and Harpies encapsulate that reasoning to a tee. They're the distraction, a speedy, squawking nuisance that shows up and puts the fear of God in townies who demand the Rangers do something to protect them. Which they're already doing, since we wouldn't have had warning of the attack if they weren't. If rat-face and his buddies hadn't jumped the gun, we would've had another minute or two before them Harpies got all hot and bothered enough to come diving down, and most folks would've already been in cover by then. Anyone out on the streets would've been there ready and waiting to fight, and with a little luck, we could've cleaned up the whole attack without taking any casualties like I done last year.

Instead, those chuckle fucks reeled them Abby in sooner than they should've while folks were still in transit, and from the looks of things, there was more than one group. Happens when there's enough Harpies and no clear Alpha among them, or when the opening shot doesn't bring one down. Gotta kill a Harpy to get the rest of the flock all hot and bothered. Not because they're angry that one of them died. No, it's the smell of blood that gets them going, and without it, some might spook and scatter to look for softer targets. I'm guessing that's exactly what they did, because there are way more wounded in the hospital than I'd expect based on what I saw out there.

Meaning the Harpies served their purpose. They've spooked the townies, who'll look to the Rangers to make them feel safe, which means more soldiers stationed in town to twiddle their thumbs and look pretty with their badges on their chest. This in turn means less Rangers out on patrol, letting the real Abby workhorses sneak out of the Badlands to forage and hunt to their dark heart's content. Stirges are the main contenders, fat, bat-like Abby that ain't much larger than a kiccaw and show up in massed swarms under the cover of night. They ain't much in a fight, even weaker than Harpies, but they got these sharp, needle-beaked faces that can do some damage. The real juice is in their bellies though, and I mean that literally. They produce some sort of Alchemical Acid which they regurgitate and inject into their prey so they can break down all that meat and bone before slurping it up like a stew. They'll eat as much as they can and grow nice and fat before flying home to their Proggie where they're recycled into goop before starting the whole process over again.

Hardly seems efficient, but far as anyone can tell, the Harpy Proggie got a thing for Flying Ferals. Could mean they're real deep in the Divide and can only get Abby out by air without falling afoul to rival Proggies, or they're high up in the mountains on the north and south sides of the canyon. Either way, I gotta imagine it works else the Proggie would've switched tack or died out long ago. The worst part is that even though we know the Harpies were a distraction and we'd be better off putting more boots out on patrol, there ain't no way to convince scared townies of the facts. All they know is that seeing Rangers around will make them feel safe, so they'll make their demands and raise unholy hell if they ain't met, so some politician will lean on Ranger High Command until they issue orders to station a sizable Ranger presence in New Hope and every other town along the Blue Bulwark just to keep the peace.

All because a bunch of idiots too big for their britches thought they could take on them Harpies. If there was any justice in the world, rat-face is lying dead alongside his buddies, because I'd bet dollars to donuts he was the root cause of all this. Won't know for sure unless there were cameras on the fight or survivors to tell the tale, but I'd be surprised if it was someone else. Either way, it's a bad day for everyone involved, so I figure it's best I get gone before someone thinks to pin the blame on me. Taking stock of my injuries, I find myself in pretty good health aside from a few cuts on my forearms that been bandaged but not stitched, and a plethora of sore spots where I might've tweaked a muscle or three swinging for the fences like I did.

All that aside, I'm feeling hunky dory, so after making sure there ain't no one paying much mind to me, I gingerly sit up and check if I'm still decent. No one cut up my clothes or nothing, so I swing my feet over the side and slide off the bed before looking around for my boots, duster, and gear. My boots are by the foot of the bed, but everything else is nowhere to be seen. Here's hoping Chrissy or Aunty Ray got my stuff, to say nothing of my shopping haul. Would set me back a fair bit if I lost it seeing how I done spent most my cash already, but I ain't about to bother no nurse or doctor about it. With nothing else for it, I make like a tree and leave as quietly as I can, or at least that's the plan right up until I step out of the barracks and into the hospital waiting room.

The hospital itself was pretty packed, but this room here is shoulder to shoulder save for a single clear path so folks can bring in their injured unimpeded. It's a grim sight, seeing so many people just standing about and waiting for news about their loved ones, not knowing if their husbands, wives, sons, or daughters are dead, dying, or going to make it through the night. Which ain't the same as saying they gonna live, because Harpies be carrion eaters, meaning their fangs and talons are filthy as can be, so any injuries they cause are prone to infection. As such, it's a sombre mood out in the waiting room, one that catches me off guard as I pop out the main doors to find a whole crowd watching with bated breath to see if I'm a doctor with news for them.

So of course they disappointed to see me, but that ain't the end of it. No, instead of a tired doctor bearing good tidings, they see their non-resident punching bag, the big bad Firstborn who done broke bad and is causing all sorts of trouble for honest, salt-of-the-earth Americans. So of course this has gotta be my fault somehow, and one lady even says it out loud. "You!" she screeches, pointing at me like she rebuking the Devil himself. "This is all your fault! Haven't you and your people done enough to us? Why can't you leave us be? Instead of leaving things to the professionals, you brought disaster down on us all!"

There's more to her screeches, but I'm done listening. I didn't fire the shot that brung them down, but I got no room to defend myself, because as soon as she lets rip with her accusation, all them others pile on their pent-up frustrations into the mix. I'm a menace, a pox on them all, an enemy agent here to bring them down from within, I hear it all amidst general demands that I get lost and never come back. Rather than argue, I simply keep a straight face while marching on out because as loud and angry as they are, they don't do nothing to bar my path.

Dunno if it's fear or just good manners keeping the path clear, but regardless of the reasons, I can already see the headlines in tomorrow's papers. "Butcher of the Badlands Bungles Defense of New Hope", or some other alliterative bullshit like that. Won't matter that I got it all on tape, with the rifle shots sounding out from well behind me while I got no Aetherarm to my name, but the papers don't report facts so much as tell believable stories they think people want to read. If I take issue with their article, then I got an uphill battle ahead to tell my side of the story, and after a few weeks, the paper might well print an article on page seventeen to apologize for their mistake. By then the damage will have been done though, and I can't help but think I'd have been better off running from the Harpies alongside Chrissy and Cowie.

How many of them people in the hospital or the town in general would be dead if it wasn't for me? Can't know for sure, but more than a fair few I'd imagine. Getting no thanks or reward for what I done is bad enough. Now I gotta shoulder the blame too? Just goes to show I should've stuck with my first instinct and just left them be. I'll know better next time though, and I ain't gonna forget them fools who refused to let me and Chrissy in despite the sirens going strong. Cold is what that is, but ain't no one gonna blame them cowards for their part in the casualties, and they'll go on living their lives believing they ain't done nothing wrong.

Ought to go out and Shatter their windows and doors for what they done. Burn their fucking stores to the goddamned ground so they can feel the hurt of those who done lost someone who could've been saved. Let everyone know it too so they feel the shame, but no. They was just doing what's smart, what's human, that's what they'll say, while I'm the fucking menace for fighting the good fight.

I don't say as much, or argue against the crowd, because stupid don't listen to facts. Instead, they'll shout and scream for all their worth before dragging you down to their level where they'll beat you with experience. Rather than engage, I shuffle on home to let Aunty Ray and Chrissy know I'm fine and dandy. Soon as I open the door, I see my jacket and gear all cleaned and spotless sitting in a neat little pile by the door, and I can't help but smile to see it. Chrissy even picked up my hatch and cable and Aunty Ray washed them clean, which only goes to show the level of care and concern they show me. It's the little things, the stuff you never really think to mention that really stands out, because while I'd have no issue sitting down to do the cleaning myself, the fact that it's all been handled just fills me with the warm fuzzies.

Inside, I'm greeted with a group hug as Chrissy and Aunty Ray leave the busy stovetop to come make sure I'm doing alright. "What'd the doctor say?" Aunty Ray asks, looking me over for any signs of injury my shirt or hair might be hiding. "Chrissy gave us the broad strokes, and I checked the crystal, but far as we could tell, all you had was a few scrapes and dings. You was old cold though, and wasn't nothing we could do to wake you."

"I'm fine," I say, fending off her probing hands as gently as I can. "Bad spill off the roof knocked the wind out of my sails is all." Least that's my best guess, seeing how I didn't stick around to ask the doctor what's what. I ain't about to admit as much, though I doubt they would've told me anything different. I just pushed myself too far too fast and crashed as soon as it was safe to do so. That's all there is to it, so I switch tack while glancing at my hat with a grimace. "You watched the crystal, huh? Don't suppose you got it verified first?"

"Why?" Tilting her head, Aunty Ray asks, "Because of the gun thing? I don't think the Sheriff's gonna write you up for grabbing a weapon while beset by Harpies on all sides."

No, because I'm already catching flak for just being in the area, and now the recording can't be used as evidence. There's no way to tell if it's been tampered now that Aunty Ray's accessed it, because the only way to be 100% sure is if the recording is pristine and untouched. Annoying that, so here's hoping there's cameras on that stretch of street that caught me walking away at the time of the shooting, and running back after the fact. Then again, maybe it'd be better if there weren't, because now that I think about it, I don't think I want anyone seeing what went down during that fight. It didn't occur to me until just now, but Chrissy used Phantasmal Force, a restricted Spell in plain view. While allowances can be made for Innates in possession of restricted Spells, she'd have to prove that she can meet the strict standards set forth by the Feds. Usually it's just a written test, but can't no one sit there with her, and I don't think she can get through it all by her lonesome.

Not because she can't read. She can read just fine. She just don't like to, and is all too easily distracted by the thoughts in her head.

A fact I bring up with Aunty Ray, who only now cottons on to the issue. "Oh Lord," she gasps, wrapping her arms around Chrissy in a protective gesture. "I didn't even think about that."

Since this was a conversation between me and Aunty Ray, we wasn't signing in ASL so Chrissy ain't been following. Thing is, not only can she read, she can also read the room, so she knows something's up and is curious to know what. "Chrissy do something wrong?" she signs, looking oh so precious as she snuggles up with her mama.

"No," Aunty Ray replies, hugging Chrissy that much tighter while signing with one hand. "No, you did great. You helped Howie out and brung him back safe."

"Why Mama worried?"

A question with no easy answer, because it'd take a lot to explain why Chrissy might get clapped in anti-magic manacles and forced to live out the rest of her days in an institution for troubled Innates. Won't happen though, because I'd sooner turn outlaw than stand idly by and watch strangers take her away. Takes some doing, but Aunty Ray impresses upon Chrissy that she ain't done nothing wrong, but reinforces the fact that she shouldn't use Phantasmal Force without an okay. My heart aches to hear it, to see sweet innocent Chrissy try to come to terms with the fact that she done good, but wasn't supposed to, and I can tell the message ain't sinking in. Even though she's improved quite a bit in the last few weeks, even I don't entirely understand the logic behind it. So what if Chrissy has Phantasmal Force? Yeah, the Spell can potentially cause a whole lot of damage, but I could do the same with a bottle of alcohol and the Ignite Cantrip.

Have done the same in fact, so if they ain't gonna keep me from buying bottles of alcohol, they shouldn't bother Chrissy who ain't never hurt no one and nothing besides Abby. That's how it'd be in a just world, but the world we live in is far from just, and they'll expect Chrissy to prove she won't hurt anyone, even though she ain't ever done it before. Ain't the same as Psychic Scream, because that's a Spell the caster uses on themselves, and anyone nearby gets hit, so it ain't as big a deal. Limited use, as the Feds would say. Phantasmal Force on the other hand can be used from 40 metres away and considered more dangerous than Fireball even, which is bad news for Chrissy.

So best to lose that crystal, or at the very least, avoid showing anyone what's on it even though Illusions don't get recorded. Should play this close to the vest until Chrissy improves enough to pass the licensing tests, which puts me back on the fence about bringing her out west. On the one hand, more trouble means more chances that she gives the game away and gets labelled as a security threat. On the other hand, it might be that all Chrissy needs is more confidence in herself alongside more reasons to come out of her shell. She's always been locked up inside of her head, so the fact that she's taking a more active role in her everyday life is something we should encourage, not quash flat out of fear.

Ain't no helping it, as I take the coward's way out and foist the decision onto Aunty Ray. Leaving Cowie and the kiccaws to distract Chrissy, I lay it all in plain English while helping Aunty Ray cook meals for folks who lost someone or got someone in the hospital and got the time or inclination to cook for themselves. That's just how she is, but part of it is because she needed to keep busy because I was injured and she didn't want to work herself into a lather worrying about me.

It's the same way she redoubles her efforts cooking up a feast when I get to talking about all this. I can tell she ain't none too happy about the prospect of sending Chrissy out with me, but it's not like she can just drop everything and come along with. She got obligations, like orders for her leatherwork which she took well in advance, miscellaneous Illusion or Enchantment work she picks up here and there, or just generally helping out around town wherever she can like she doing here today. On top of that, we're expecting Momo's calf within the next week or two, and Aunty Ray will have to stay close to teach the little fluffy baby how to behave. They come out the womb as Magical Beasts, and while he or she won't be spitting out fire any time soon, there are a good number of First Order Spells they might come into that can do a fair bit of damage. Had one who learned Jump and went a bounding out of the ranch, then got stuck up on the rooftops after a run until I went up and brung her down. Spent a week fixing all the shingles she dinged up, but it was well worth it for a sweet girl like her. That's why we named her Strudel, that and because of how she pops up and down like bread in the toaster. Least that's what Aunty Ray said, and I almost kept that sweet hoppy calf until the Rangers came and offered top dollar to buy her. Even Cowie don't got Jump, meaning Strudel would make for a hyper mobile mount who'd get her rider almost anywhere he desired, and they was hoping to have her give birth to a whole lineage of leaping cattle.

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Dunno how that worked out, as they don't tell me nothing until long after it's all over and done with. Here's hoping Momo's calf is just as sweet, because I'm thinking of keeping him or her so long as Cowie don't get too too jealous over the new baby. Could use a second wagon just for cargo, especially if I mean to stay out in the Deadlands to make the trip worth my while.

Got plenty of time to figure it out when I get back though, and Aunty Ray's got a week or two to think on this. I tell her as much, giving her a big hug to keep her from stressing out too much. "So yeah," I conclude, feeling a touch bitter to be helping folks who ain't gonna appreciate my efforts none. "It's a tough choice. Chrissy seems dead set on comin' along with, and after she done pulled my bacon out the fire today, I ain't so sure it's the worst idea in the world."

Aunty Ray don't answer right away, but I catch her worried glance back at her precious daughter who's saying goodbye to Cowie and kiccaws. I don't envy her position, because much as she loves Chrissy and wants her to be safe and happy, it ain't no life for her sitting around at home all the time. Me, I'd keep her under lock and key until she can take care of herself as well as Tina, but I'm thinking that's probably the wrong decision. Chrissy needs to spread her wings before she can fly, so might be a little more action and responsibility would be good for her development.

"Might be the choice is out of our hands," Aunty Ray says with a sigh. "I saw the end of your fight. She used Phantasmal Force to clear them Harpies out, but she don't got no license for it. If someone brings it up, they gonna wanna test her."

And once they find out she got the Spell, they'll label her dangerous even though she ain't ever done nothing to no one besides Abby. All it'll take is a blood test from the Sheriff and that'll be all she wrote, because Chrissy probably won't be able to comprehend the tests she'll have to pass to get licensed for the Spell, and the Federation will say she's too dangerous to be left free all because she can't get rid of Spell Structure given to her by her bloodline.

Or was it?

"Hang on." Going over the facts once more, I leave off chopping veggies to go speak with Chrissy, who's seated at the dining table with Frowny fast asleep in her arms. "That Big Spell you used," I begin, not even wanting to say the name in case someone happens to overhear. "Did you learn it naturally, or did you learn from watching your mama?" Even with ASL to help me out, it takes some doing to get my message across. While I know there are different ways she can learn Spells, to her, it's all the same. It's not though, and it's a very important distinction that could keep her from getting dinged for possession of a restricted Spell.

Because while an Innate Spell Structure can't be done away with, the same can't be said for one learned through Intuition. That's how Chrissy picked up Mental Fortress after all, from watching me and her mama cast it when the Mindspire was going strong, and I remember thinking there was a good chance it's the same for Phantasmal Force. Granted, Aunty Ray learned the latter through her bloodline, so there's a chance Chrissy did too, but I don't think that's the case. She's a powerful Spellslinger who got the benefit of two complementary bloodlines, but even then, she's picking up Spells much too quickly. Six Big Spells to her name is a lot, but not if you spread out how she learned them. Catnap, Psychic Scream, and Beguile Person are 100% from her bloodline, we know this for sure because wasn't no one using them around town for her to learn from. We always thought Major Illusion was the same, but there's a chance Chrissy learned that from watching her Mama use it so often, only we never caught on to the fact because we didn't know she could do it. Thing is, I think Chrissy knew she could do it, because when the Mindspire went up, she very specifically asked me to go through the motions of casting Mental Fortress for the sole purpose of learning it. Not to try and learn it on a lark. No, I know Chrissy well, and she was 100% sure she could learn it if she tried.

Because maybe, just maybe, she done it before with Major Illusion, and none of us noticed. Hell, now that I think about it, the massive discrepancy between Chrissy and Tina's Spell lists might well be due to Chrissy picking up a whole bunch of extra Spells through Intuition. We just never realized it because they were all Enchantments and Illusions, with no Spells from other Schools thrown into the mix. Might be coincidence, might be natural restrictions on her Intuitive ways, or most likely of all, it might just be that Chrissy don't care to learn nothing that don't catch her interest, or if it takes focused effort like with Mental Fortress. I said it before and I'll say it again; we don't call her Princess just because. She ain't much for hard work, and won't do it unless absolutely necessary, so it might be that Chrissy's got more potential than any of us ever thought possible.

In the end, it boils down to one question. "Chrissy," I begin, taking a breath to calm my worries and keep myself from getting heated. "Can you get rid of the Spell Structure for that Big Spell?" Chrissy shakes her head, and while her expression is blank as always, her body language is defensive and a touch petulant. Signing it out as I speak, I ask, "Is that no you can't? Or no you don't want to?" Letting out an all too human huff, Chrissy turns away to stare out the window, but I know good and well she don't need to see my hands to understand me so long as I sign and speak at the same time. "Come on now, Chrissy," I say, dropping down to kneel next to her while aiming for that stern but loving tone Uncle Raleigh used to use when he really wanted her to focus. "This is important please. Can you get rid of the Spell Structure?"

Don't know if it's my tone, the act of kneeling, or just my unyielding persistence, but this time, Chrissy gives another huff and signs, "Don't want to." My heart swells to see it, and I share a smile with Aunty Ray who's just over the moon to see our moody Princess. Chrissy ain't ever thrown a tantrum like this before, so we're finally getting to see all the thoughts and emotions she's always had but were locked away behind her emotionless facade. This is the person she really is, one we've always known, but is only now being shown in a more obvious way.

And don't want to means she can, so we might still be alright.

"You need to get rid of it though, Chrissy." Reaching out to take her hand, I give it three quick squeezes and get three back in return. "You didn't do anything wrong, but the Sheriff's gonna be in a real bind if he finds out you got a restricted Spell we haven't told him about. He'll have to follow the law, which means a whole lot of tests and paperwork for you. If you can get rid of the Spell Structure though, then neither of you will have to do anything at all once he proves you don't got the Spell."

"And it's not like you gotta get rid of it forever," Aunty Ray interjects, which is not what I was angling for. "You can learn it again afterwards, and I'll even help you." Matching my look with a glare, Aunty Ray snaps, "I ain't about to let my baby go out there with a handicap, so you just gonna have to accept it."

Holding up one arm in feigned surrender, I keep the other hand clasped around Chrissy's for emotional support. I change Spells out all the time because I see them as tools to be used, and you need the right tool for the right job. Chrissy though? I'm not sure how she sees the Magic, but I'm guessing she's got a different perspective. How can she not? The Spell Structures just appear to her, sometimes revealing themselves in her sleep, her dreams, or while she's going about her day. If that was me, why I'd be tempted to treat magic like a religion, or maybe even as an extension of myself. That last one is how I suspect Chrissy feels, meaning that in her eyes, getting rid of a Spell Structure would be akin to self-mutilation.

"Are you worried it's gonna hurt?" I ask, speaking slowly and wishing I could convey my concern through ASL too. "You don't gotta worry. I done it hundreds of times and I don't feel a thing."

"Bad." That's Chrissy's answer, a single, one gesture sign without any follow up. Takes a bit of coaxing, but eventually, she clarifies, "No hurt. Still bad." She can't explain why it's bad though, and I get an inkling she don't really know herself. It's like saying it's bad to be out in the sun all day without understanding enough about sunburns to explain why.

Luckily Aunty Ray got an inkling of what Chrissy's going on about. "You know," she begins, with cherry red lips pursed in thought. "There's a theory that no one ever been able to prove that says there's a correlation between the amount of time you got a Spell prepped and the development of transformative changes to the Spell." Seeing that I'm not following, Aunty Ray clarifies, "Keeping a Spell prepped makes it easier to turn it into a Trademark Spell in the long run. You know, squeeze more outta the Spell than base, like how you do with Mage Hand or Detect Abby. Said that's why Innates tend to develop so many transformative changes across so many Spells, because we can't do away with them willy nilly like most can and do."

"That don't make sense," I declare, catching on to the flaw in the argument right quick. "If that were the case, everyone and their mothers would be manipulating Cantrips in all sorts of unique ways. Don't no one ever get rid of a Cantrip Spell Structure after learning it once, because there ain't no reason to."

Aunty Ray shrugs. "I said it was a theory no one could ever prove, and didn't say keeping the Structure ain't all you gotta do either. Chrissy seems to think there's somethin' to it though."

Chrissy don't exactly nod, but she don't shake her head either. In fact, I don't think she really understands, because while the rest of us see Spell Structures largely as a Spell vending machine, they're likely far more malleable in her eyes. A twist of the flows here, a shift of the timing there, and bing, bang, boom, a simple Infestation Cantrip turns into a send off for a fallen queen bee with just a bit of a tweak. To say nothing of how she combined Phantasmal Force with that card from the Deck of Illusions after seeing her mama do it just the once. Amazing that, because not only was the Spell new to her, the card was too, though I'm guessing she watched her mama draw and Imbue them with magic while working on my Christmas present.

Whatever the reason, I wholeheartedly believe Chrissy would be better off without the Phantasmal Force Spell. Can't count on getting a warning before the Sheriff shows up with a warrant for a blood test, one that would be taken then and there to keep Chrissy from getting rid of the Spell right quick. "If you say it's bad, then it's bad," I say, still holding her hand oh so tight. "It'll be really bad if someone finds out you got it though, so it'd be best if you got rid of it for now. Can you do that for me, Chrissy?"

Deflating in her chair, Chrissy sulks for a good long minute before signing, "Okay Howie." Even gives a little nod to go along with it, which goes to show how much progress she's making, enough to maybe need a hairband herself to keep her bangs out of her eyes. Never mattered all that much before, because she didn't pay much mind to her surroundings, but I seen how she was eyeing Elodie's ribboned hairbands and know she'd love a few of her own.

"Alright," I say with a smile. "You do that while I'll whip us up a tasty treat." A quick one, because curfew is coming up and I gotta get gone. Chrissy signs something while I'm turning away, and I almost miss seeing it. Turning back, I parse what I seen because I can't really believe it. "You're done?" I ask, only belatedly remembering to sign as well. "That quick?" Chrissy nods, glances up at me, and then over to the stove where she don't see no tasty treat being whipped up. Laughing to see it, I give her hand three quick squeezes before heading off to do just that. Takes me a good bit of peace and quiet before I can be rid of any Spell Structures, around a half hour of meditation to get into the right headspace and clear out all the junk. Ain't as easy as closing your eyes and mentally wicking away the Spell Structure, unless you Chrissy of course.

For all the fuss she made about it, she got it done right quick, and she don't seem none the worse for wear. Maybe a little sad and subdued, but I get to singing 'Holding Out For A Hero' as I cook and Aunty Ray joins in, stealing the show with ease while Chrissy is happy as a clam to clap and listen. Don't take much to put together some honeycomb toffee, just some sugar, baking soda, and a careful application of the Freeze Spell to cool it down and harden it right quick. It's got a good bit of sweet crunch to it, and I dole out the lion's share to Chrissy to help cheer her up, and angel that she is, she shares some with Cowie and the kiccaws.

Well, with Terrance and Stella. Frowny is still conked out cold and snoring up a storm after his busy day. Only been a few weeks since he became a Magical Beast, so I wouldn't be surprised if he only got two or three casts of Ablative Armour in him. Which he spent getting all big and fluffy during the fight, so I get why he's tired. Pushing your Spellslinging limits really takes it out of you, and I seen people just drop over and fall asleep as soon as they hit the red line.

Kinda like I did after the Harpy fight, but I was nowhere close to my limits. Let's see. Mage Armour, Force Barrier, Shield. Spiritual Weapon. Jump. Uhh… that's it for proper Spells, though I had some Cantrips out. So like 28 out of 60, not even half my limits. That don't explain why I passed out after the fight, which is worrying to say the least, but I still got my money on a combination of fatigue and minor head trauma from the fall. No sense worrying about it though, not unless it happens again, so I spend a little more time with Chrissy and Aunty Ray until I can't put it off any longer. "Time I got gone," I say, nodding at the clock on the wall that's showing 4:30. "Long trip home and plenty left to do there."

"Be safe," Aunty Ray says, giving me a big hug goodbye since she knows I don't want her walking me out. "And I know you ain't gonna listen, but maybe don't go running headlong into danger when all you got is a hatchet and a steel cable. Lord knows what you doin' with that, because it don't seem all that helpful."

The idea seemed good in my head though. So fine. I admit it. There's more to melee fighting than I gave it credit, but I don't got the time to learn. Or a teacher to teach me, so there's that too. I'll just have to figure it out as I go and use Living Whip to fill in the gaps. Besides, I agree with Aunty Ray, though not for the same reasons. I ain't gonna go running headlong into danger no more, not here in New Hope where don't no one appreciate it. Maybe Aunty Ray is fine with cooking meals and helping people in need without any thanks or compensation, but that there is the very definition of the juice not being worth the squeeze. What good is goodwill if it all dries up the moment you actually need some help? No good, that's what, which is a lesson I learned the hard way after watching all of New Hope collectively shrug after the Feds disavowed my daddy.

I'm through helping out for no reason at all, because like I said, ain't no good deed goes unpunished.

A lesson I learn once more as I step outside to find the Sheriff on his way up to see me. With three deputies no less, and a dozen or so guards to boot. There some distance between the Sheriff and the guards though, like he don't want them here but got no reason to send them away. It's a free country after all, or at least that's what they tell me, so the Sheriff can't dictate what folks do in public areas. Seeing the crowd, I stifle a grimace and wave while walking Cowie and the kiccaws right over. Stella and Terrance are happily parked atop Cowie's full-sized head, but I got Frowny nestled in the crook of my arm because he ain't ready to wake.

"Seems a bit much," I say by way of greeting. "Still got a half hour before curfew, and it's only 20 minutes to the docks."

"Howie Zhu," The Sheriff begins, which is never a good sign. He rarely ever uses my name, much less my full name, and he says it in his Sheriff voice, all stern and authoritarian. "Concerns have been raised regarding today's Harpy attack and the Spells you have prepared." Gesturing at my hat as he approaches with the all-too familiar blood test doohickey, he asks, "Did you record the events?"

"I did," I say, letting him prick my finger and feeling at ease now that Chrissy done got rid of her Phantasmal Force Spell Structure. Even if they suspect she got it, a test will show nothing, so there won't be nothing the Sheriff can do moving forward, not unless he got good reason to get another warrant for a blood test. "It ain't clean though," I admit as I hand the crystal over, just so we can get that out of the way. "I passed out after the fight, and Aunty Ray took a look because she couldn't see any injuries on me and wanted to find out what happened." Usually not a big deal, but the Sheriff purses his lips while the guards in earshot all scowl and give me dark glares. Or at least more of them, as they wasn't all that welcoming to begin with. Does mean something's up though, and it ain't my curfew. "What's this about now?" I ask. "Do I need my lawyer?"

"You are not under arrest," the Sheriff answers, which ain't much of one. "You are not free to go however, as I am detaining you for questioning."

"Questions I am well within my right to refuse," I say, just to be difficult, and I turn around to wave Aunty Ray off as she comes to the front door to see what's what.

"At which point I would be compelled to order your arrest." The Sheriff's answer throws me for a loop, because that means this is serious business then. Even more telling is how he gives me a look, grimaces, and adds, "Please."

Ah. I think I get it. The guards behind him are out for blood because they blame me for something or the other, the Sheriff is doing his best to keep the peace. "Let's have it then," I say, heaving a long sigh and wondering if I should call for Mr. Tillman anyways. That'd be the smart money, but I ain't ever claimed to be smart, so I follow the Sheriff's cues and answer as honestly as I can as he asks about how things unfolded from my perspective. Besides Chrissy's Phantasmal Force, I don't hold nothing back and give it to him straight. My scuffle with rat-face and friends, being denied shelter in nearby stores, and running back into the fight to do whatever I could, I give him the unvarnished truth and speak nothing but facts.

End up having to show him the cable and demonstrate the cattle prod built into my prosthetic, which also don't count as a weapon since it's about as non-lethal as it gets. Can't even set off heart aroma, or whatever it's called when your heartbeat goes all irregular. Either way, the guards don't look none too pleased about all my 'concealed weapons' as I hear them mutter, and while they keep their hands clear of their weapons, they don't look like they far from drawing them.

The questions take a good bit of time to get through, but I don't ask the Sheriff inside or offer any refreshments. At the end of it all, I shrug and say, "Like I said, my crystal ain't clean, even though all Aunty Ray did was take a look. You're welcome to it all the same, and I'm sure there plenty of cameras along the thoroughfare that'll support what you see on there."

"Why did you sneak out of the hospital?"

The Sheriff's new line of questioning throws me for a loop. "Who says I snuck out? I left through the main doors. Felt fine and figured someone else could use the bed."

By now, the Sheriff has finished going over my test results, and passed it over to his deputies and the guards to double and triple check. They're the exact same Spells I had when I came in this morning, without a single one missing, so chances of me doing away with a Spell and prepping a fresh one in its place are slim to none. Course, I probably could've done it in the time since I left the hospital if I really put the pedal to the metal, but I ain't about to admit it. Either way, I don't much care if they suspecting me, because that means Chrissy is off the hook.

"Mrs. Walker-Bradshaw," the Sheriff says, calling out to Aunty Ray and earning himself a full-on glower. "I have reason to suspect young Chrissy is in possession of a restricted Spell. Do you consent to a blood test?"

And there we have it. I keep my cool as best I can, but truth is, I'm ready to leave this town in my six if not burn it to the fucking ground. Aunty Ray don't kick up a fuss though, just glares and nods while coaxing Chrissy to prick her finger on a fresh needle. She don't like it much, and her test takes much longer than mine to spit out all her Spells, most of which will take some doing to identify. The test don't spit out names of Spells, but rather unique markers that correspond to certain Spell Structures which gotta be identified through pattern recognition. With me, they got a proper baseline since they test me every time I come into town, sometimes multiple times in one trip. With Chrissy though, not only does she have a lot of niche and rarely used Spells, some are gonna be unique to her and her alone due to her familiarity with them, meaning it'll take some extra work to figure them out.

They're looking for one Spell in particular though, one the Sheriff knows good and well Aunty Ray is in possession of. She got a license for Phantasmal Force after all, and it's the Sheriff's Office that handles all that. As such, even the Sheriff seems surprised when it don't come up on the test, and he gives me a look before asking, "How did you disperse of the Harpies at the end of the fight?"

So I guess there is a camera that caught it all. One that shows I ain't responsible for this shit show, but also shows Chrissy's use of Phantasmal Force, and the Sheriff here wanted to see if I'd lie. I ain't about to answer this question though, so I simply look him dead in the eye and say, "Lawyer."

"Howie," he says, grimacing as he glances back. "I must know, or else they will all claim you have some means of hiding what Spells you have prepared."

I shrug. "Then prove it. I'm done answering questions. Am I free to go?"

The Sheriff meets my gaze without backing down and simply shakes his head. "No," he says, sounding all sorts of contrite as he reads me my Miranda rights, "Howie Zhu, you are under arrest on suspicion of carrying a deadly weapon and possession of a restricted Spell. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do…"

I let it all go in one ear and out the other as I direct Cowie back to Aunty Ray and hand over the sleeping Frowny so the Sheriff can cuff me. They'll go through my things, watch the recording, and suspect me of hiding something because I am, but I ain't about to say shit. I'm done with this town anyways, because today has proved to me once and for all that the people here ain't worth protecting. I already knew it, I just couldn't bring myself to act on it.

Not anymore. What few fond memories of the place I still had left have all been trampled underfoot, and I'll be damned if I ever so much as lift a finger for this town or the strangers inside it ever again.