NOVEL NEXT 2.32 Convene at the Convent
Phanya, Ricky, and Salazar all shuffled into the train station manager's office, each one subtly trying to stand behind the others so that they wouldn't be seen as the leader to blame for last night's fight. The patdown for hidden weapons didn't help. The office itself was mostly plain, with simple folding chairs surrounding a simple round dining table, and handmade cobwood shelving units ran along the side walls that held a small hoard of random knickknacks. At first glance the shelves reminded Phanya of Ricky's secret hideout where he tried to teach himself engineering, until she realized that some of the odds and ends were acting by their own rules. A single shoe changed from a black sneaker to a red stiletto heel when no one was looking at it, a plastic banana glowed with an odd green light, and a dice rolled itself every few minutes.
In the middle of the round table sat a small cage meant for small pets, but instead contained a hair clip. At random intervals the clip would start to vibrate before suddenly shooting upwards, only to crash into the cage and fall back onto the table to repeat the process over again. The pastor sat behind a desk at the far end, backed by a floor-to-ceiling window of the morning horizon, but instead of enjoying the view he stared at the hair clip. Every time the clip jumped he consulted with a pile of notes on his desk, wrote something down among them, and sighed reverentially.
The clip jumped two more times before the pastor acknowledged the trio. He wore the same brown robes as the other monks, just with the hood down and replaced with a faded train conductor's cap, and just like the other monks the elder man carried numerous different mutations. Multicolored feathers poked out from under the cap instead of hair, one of his hands was covered in shiny black chitin, and his facial features shifted around his face by imperceptible degrees; as if his eyes, nose, and mouth kept forgetting exactly where they're supposed to go, only to remember and snap back into place. Despite the bags under his eyes the pastor looked at peace with his lot in life, until two guards positioned themselves behind him and he looked up at the three guests.
"Good morning, I am Pastor-Manager Callum the Noteworthy, Second Enlightenment. Or Conductor-Manager Callum of Grand Yellow Line Stop 34E, if you arrived here for the trains. My apologies for the wait, but we recently received this latest gift from one of our nomadic siblings," he nodded to the hair clip. "We're still trying to learn its language, but so far it remains… excitable."
Ricky tore his eyes away from the table and asked, "Wait, language? Those things talk?" The hair clip smacked against the cage and Ricky flinched slightly. "This one sounds angry."
Pastor Callum's face split in a smile, a tad more literally than normal. "Yes, of course! Every gift of the Phase has something to teach us, if only we learn how to listen. You think that gift sounds angry, and maybe it does, or maybe it really yearns for freedom. Take my own gift, for instance."
Callum indicated to the pen in his hand. It looked like a regular black ballpoint pen, but when he set it down on the desk the pen instantly flipped up and balanced on its tip. Ricky cooed under his breath, and Callum's smile broadened. "Nothing more than a party trick to most people, but it taught me the importance of standing up and standing still. After meditating with my gift for a few months I truly learned to listen to it, and since then my gift has never let me down… which, in this case, means it never runs out of ink, and that makes me the ideal Keeper of Notes. At least I convinced the church that 'Noteworthy' sounded better."
He chuckled slightly at his own expense, but Salazar answered the chuckle with an annoyed huff and crossed his arms. "You sure that isn't just because you carried a Phase relic in your pocket for months on end? Those things will mess with anyone after enough time."
The pastor met the doubter with an unbothered, if slightly piteous, grin. "Yes, sometimes all a gift asks of us is our time. There are many paths to enlightenment, how can we expect them to all look the same when the very nature of the Phase is that of eternal change? That's why my church is such an oddity, even among our siblings; it is our way to travel the world in search of gifts left by the Phase, stopping to set down roots only when we find an Icon of Shift Lock, but instead we stand tall and stand still at a train station. Between the train's income and food from the corn field we make modest returns, but a church where the only gifts are external offerings is… unorthodox."
Callum sighed, this time heavy with exhaustion, and slumped back in his chair. Any person can slump but everything on Callum's body, except for his chitinous arm, deflated in response to the sigh as his skin started to droop. He sank deeper into the chair, like melting wax to match his mood. The trio tried to not make any noises of alarm or discomfort, but the guards behind him noticed and one leaned in with a gentle reminder. "Pastor, your face." Callum shook himself to attention and his body firmed up, until he merely looked like a heavily-mutated human once more.
"Yes yes, thank you. Point is, our branch of the church lacks the normal wealth and flexibility of the Phase." Callum paused to fix the party with a steely stare, matched by his soft flesh becoming especially flinty. "So would you please explain to me why I woke up this morning to a call from a sibling within Enterprise Holdings, informing me that one of their subsidiaries have targeted my church for a hostile takeover?"
Anger rose in his voice, but the others just exchanged confused looks. Did he even know that several mercenaries had died in their parking lot last night? Eventually Phanya hesitantly asked, "And, ah, why would we know anything about that, sir?"
"Because that subsidiary is the Privateer." Callum glared at each person for a confession, but when none came he grunted with frustration. "I may not be some young merc, but I'm not an idiot. Last night four people with active bounties from the Privateer either paid off or had theirs rescinded, and hours later that same landship is coming to buy us all out of our homes. Do you know how rare it is for a corporation to just withdraw a bounty? I already spoke to your pale teammate, and he threatened legal action from the Fair family if we asked any other questions!" Callum shook his head and started to droop again. "And from someone followed by a living gift, too. I thought his presence would be a blessing, but now it feels like an omen."
Salazar growled through his gas mask. "One, that jackass and his gremlin demon aren't with us."
He had more to say, but Phanya clamped a hand down on his shoulder. She saw the way Callum's face literally twisted slightly at "gremlin demon," and realized that Salazar's misgivings about the Phase were not going to do them any favors. "What he means is, we don't know what Jellico and Jenakite did, but they aren't on a team with us. We paid off our debts with the Privateer completely above board, so we're good."
"That means whatever skrat the Privateer has with you isn't our problem," Salazar snapped, just to make sure he got the last word in.
Callum sat back in his chair, spinning the relic pen with one hand in idle thought. "The pale one agrees with you mercs on one thing, that you aren't a team together. But that also means that you aren't protected by the Fair family."
Salazar heaved a melodramatic sigh and started rubbing a knot in the back of his neck. "We have no debts with the church, and we paid our bounties the right way. But you cultists are just going to take us prisoner anyways, aren't you?"
"No need to be harsh, you aren't under arrest or our prisoners. But you need to understand the position my flock is in, and you two are the only connection we have to the Privateer. So unless you actually have some answers I can use, then I must insist that you stay here until the landship arrives. As our guests. We'll even give you a discount on parking fees!"
Callum kept talking about their arrangement, and how they definitely weren't prisoners, and Phanya struggled to look like she was paying attention. Not because she wasn't taking the pastor's thinly-veiled threats seriously, but because she felt Salazar's tail prodding against her leg, and when she looked down she saw the back of his hand suddenly light up. Salazar was still pretending to rub his neck, positioning his hand behind his head so that the pastor and his guards couldn't see a small holographic display appear. But Phanya read the little neon words clear as day: "GET READY TO RUN — HOLD YOUR BREATH" with a countdown underneath.
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10, 9, 8…
Ricky wasn't bothering to feign attention to the conversation, he was too focused on the hair clip. After the pastor's impassioned speech Ricky gave the relic a second look, and noticed that right before the clip started to vibrate it would actually sink into the physical surface of the table. Just a little bit, but Ricky could feel that the clip was not merging with the table the way his Chain spell did. Almost as if — something slapped against his leg, and Ricky brushed it away before he lost his train of thought — almost as if the clip was attempting to pass through the table, but couldn't overcome the laws of physics. Initially he thought the clip was jumping around like a small, angry animal, but what if getting launched was just a side effect, a reaction to two objects trying to exist in the same space?
"Ricky. Ry. Merrick." Ricky groaned, if Phanya was using his birth name then something important was happening. Before he could say anything, Ricky felt her hands grab his suit collar and yank him back upright so he was staring Phanya in the face. "You need to pay attention to the nice pastor now," she said through clenched teeth, looking oddly tense as her head kept twitching in Callum's direction. Then, finally, Ricky noticed the blinking neon sign.
7, 6, 5…
"W-wait, hold up," Ricky stammered. "I have questions. Questions about relics!"
"More important things are happening right now, Ricky!" Phanya strained to not shout.
4, 3, 2…
Callum's dour mood brightened slightly, and his guards relaxed their grip. "Actually, since you'll be here for a few days I would be happy to spread a little enlightenment —"
1, 0
Salazar didn't hesitate or give any warning. Even Phanya, standing directly behind him, didn't see how or when Salazar palmed a dark gray sphere the size of a cherry, but the instant his countdown reached zero Salazar threw it at Callum's desk. The sphere exploded on impact and filled the small office with acrid smoke, obscuring everything outside of arm's reach. Thankfully, whatever chemical mixture Salazar used was less harsh than the last time Phanya got caught in the stuff, but it still stung and the element of surprise threw the three cultists into a coughing fit. Coughing and shouting but not shooting in blind panic, giving the trio precious seconds to escape.
Phanya felt Salazar slink past and she grabbed at his tail with one hand while pawing for Ricky with the other. She figured Ricky would get turned around and found him leaning in the wrong direction, but frantic pulling got everyone oriented towards the door. Salazar opened the door and slammed it shut the instant everyone crossed the threshold, scattering a few trace wisps of smoke into the empty waiting room. Both Phanya and Ricky started to ask Salazar what the hell he was thinking, but he held up a hand to silence them.
"No time, we'll talk later," Salazar said, his tone and demeanor all business. "We just need to walk out of here before they call for backup. Walk, don't run, and act cool."
The trio managed to make it to the main hall before they broke. Phanya kept turning her Elven Glamour down so low that Ricky would bump into her, and every time Phanya overcompensated her attempts to laugh it off, and both grew increasingly nervous as their un-cool behavior drew more and more attention. Even Salazar couldn't stop himself from looking back every time the obnoxious pair caused a commotion, so Salazar was the one that managed to walk straight into a passing security guard.
Salazar was not proud of himself for losing his situational awareness. He was less proud that he also panicked and threw his backup smoke bomb directly at the guard's face. This past week had not been kind to his frayed nerves.
"RUN!" Salazar shouted, and the three broke into a sprint. A lockdown klaxon blared that mixed more confusion into the morning crowd and bystanders scrambled to get out of the way, clearing a small path for the mad dash. A path that ended at the train station's front doors, where a knot of people were pushing against the few guards that were trying to corral everyone. Salazar pointed at them and yelled, "They're going to lock the doors on us!"
"On it!" Phanya answered as she charged ahead. One guard saw their approach and tried to meet them head-on, but instead of a challenge Phanya's Commander senses saw a springboard and her odd brain flex brought this moment into sharp focus. Phanya saw the guard's eyes widen as she jumped at him, she felt his helmet under both heels as she kicked off the guard's head, and her improved center of gravity carried Phanya into a roll as she sailed over the crowd. Her trick was more focused on where she landed instead of how she landed, and Phanya grunted with discomfort when she flopped to the floor. But she landed halfway through the doorway, and the remaining guards couldn't close the door on her body before the others made it through.
Kicking the nearest guard in the stomach hard enough for him to retch also helped keep the door open.
Salazar scurried over Phanya with serpentine grace, Ricky yanked Phanya to her feet as he ran past, and Phanya shouted an apology at the guard before the door closed and locked behind her. The narrow cobwood bridge had cleared of normal traffic by now, and the party had almost ran halfway across before security forces were all fully aware and a fully-armed guard stepped in front. Salazar skidded and backpedaled, climbing over and around Ricky and Phanya until he stood at the back of the line.
"Ow, hey! Watch the claws!"
"Hey yourself, Miss Subdermal Armor!"
"Guess it's my turn, then!" Ricky said, and shifted his gear around. He left his weapons in the car, but the guards had no reason to suspect the simple bug iron disc on his back. The shield locked into place with a satisfying click, the guard responded with the same and shouldered his rifle, and Ricky braced himself. Last night he was constantly on the back foot, but now Ricky had his full shield and armor set. Now, he wanted to see what he could do.
The guard shouted to stop, and Ricky started running. The guard didn't ask twice, and Ricky tried to focus on the feeling of the bullets as they bounced off his upraised shield. It looked like the guard was shooting a black powder rifle and Ricky definitely felt the bullets, but not enough to hurt or even slow down his charge. Part of Ricky's mind still couldn't believe he was in a life-or-death situation, but with every long stride a sense of thrill grew. His power armor worked!
Ricky bounced his will against the shield and activated Targe Charge, zipping down the last few meters of bridge before the guard could react. They connected and the exosuit's +1 enhancement to Ricky's Strength score, along with about 50 extra kilograms of metal, fed into his shield arm. It snapped open like a loaded gun, and blowback from his own shield bash rocked Ricky with more force than the bullets. His power armor REALLY worked!
Ricky's celebratory smile melted off his face as he watched the guard sail over the marketplace stalls and land too far away to see, but hard enough to hear. And it sounded painful.
[Cultist Guard lvl 3 defeated! +5 XP]
"Eeeeeesh. Might've overdone it a tad," Ricky croaked to himself. Someone screamed just next to him and Ricky jumped in surprise, turning to see a second guard he hadn't notice approach. But instead of attacking or arresting Ricky, the guard was more concerned about the dagger handle sticking out of his leg.
[Cultist Guard lvl 3 defeated! +1 XP for participation]
And before Ricky could react to that, he felt talons digging in all over his suit. "Every goddamn place you lot drags me, I burn bridges and lose contacts! Every goddamn time!" Salazar shouted as he tried to climb onto Ricky's shoulder. "Now MOVE!"
"Gah, fine! Hold on, just… here Phanya, take this," Ricky huffed, trading off with Phanya so he could carry Salazar under a free arm and shield him with the other.
Phanya accepted the package without comment, too focused on scanning for more guards to talk while the other two got situated. Only once they were all running again did Phanya notice she was even holding anything, and she gaped at the hamster cage in her hands. "The hell? Ricky! Ricky, why do you have this?"
"No talkie, more runny!"
Salazar tried to dial his virtual controls while Ricky handled him with all the grace of a laundry bag. "Tapper! Tapper, where the hell are you??"
A moment of static later and everyone heard that familiar, enthusiastic, grating, tinny voice. "Hello, Salazar! I am awaiting at the jitney, as I said I would. Why do you sound panicked?"
"Good! Get ready, we're leaving FAST!"