Pathbreakers: Multiclassing For Fun And Profit

The crowd is much bigger than I anticipated. There's almost 100 press people on the ferry as we head back towards Ellis Island. The trip was the brainchild of a representative from the Ellis Island historical society. Put press on a boat, answer questions on the way over, let them see the not-too-badly wrecked Museum. Good for people to see a place can be okay after it goes back to normal. Good for Ellis Island museum and ferry tickets. Good for New Yorkers.

For the second day in a row I'm on a ferry. Henry Gallup, Madeline Diaz and I are the representatives of the Pathbreakers. We're all in nice business clothes. I had to buy a suit this morning because I was the only one who apparently doesn't travel with a full business suit. The skies are clear today, and it's mid afternoon. The seas are calm and the ride is smooth.

Madeline starts. “Okay, everyone, we're beginning now. My name is Madeline Diaz, special agent with the FBI's New Jersey branch and I'm on loan to the 101st Pathbreakers. Our team is dedicated to clearing out and sometimes closing Dracosys locations across the country and, if required, around the world. Yesterday we cleared and closed the Ellis Island Ruins, where we are headed now. As has been widely publicized, the museum was formerly infested with zombies. Those are now gone. We had to clear ghosts out of the old hospital wing, which we will not be seeing today due to construction safety concerns.”

Diaz takes a drink of water before continuing. “Our team is comprised of Army Rangers, a Navy Seal and myself as a representative of the FBI. This team was organized to be not only effective but also as a collaboration between federal agencies. We want to show Americans, and the world abroad, that steps are being taken to address your concerns. These monsters and unknown forces are being met with force and we, the 101st Pathbreakers, are the tip of the spear. I will now take questions.”

Dozens of hands shoot up alongside voices shouting for attention. Diaz points to a reporter up front. “Ari Dunkirk, ABC news. What kind of ruin was Ellis Island?”

Diaz taps the mic to get everyone else to settle down. “Ellis Island was apparently a small ruin. Clearing the entire facility took us only about an hour and a half. The inside was large to simulate what it would have been like to be a child in the facility. You know there were zombies outside but inside were giant zombies. We killed them with guns and magic. I don't know how it compares to other ruins. Next?”

“Daisy Catalina, CBS. How exactly was the Ellis Island ruin closed?”

“Inside we discovered a relic with a metaphorical and metaphysical tie to the location. We used it to symbolically cleanse the facility and the facility was literally cleansed as well. I can't go into details, but I can say that this is entirely different from how dungeons are cleared.”

“Orion Peoples, FOX News. Reports say you also cleared a dungeon, can you go into that?”

This carries on for about half an hour and Madeline is honestly amazing. She gives enough information so that each reporter feels like they got something new, but not enough to give anyone specific information about our team or tactics.

We get to the museum and everyone disembarks. Inside workers are busy cleaning up gunk and blood from the zomboids. It makes a good photo op. The caption will probably read, “Workers already restoring facility to regular business.” I think this might make a difference. Let people see that the Dracosys event doesn't have to be the end.

At the museum a reporter corners me. She's pretty, but in that flavorless, news reporter way. “Ginny West, NPR news. Are you Jun Kyung Han?” She's got a small digital recorder that she holds between us.

“No, that's the other Korean on the team.”

She scoffs. “So are you the team leader?”

I wiggle my hand in a maybe gesture.

She does not seem amused. “Private Han-”

I cut her off. “Corporal Han. Wait! Shit, you got me.”

She smiles at me falling into her verbal trap. Ohhh she's tricky, this one. “Corporal Han, the team you helm is the 101st Pathbreakers but that isn't a designated branch of any military. Are you part of the CIA?”

“Pfft, no! Fuck those guys- wait, don't print that.”

“We're NPR. We don't print anything.”

“Okay fine, but no, the 101st Pathbreakers are technically an LLC so the government doesn't have to take responsibility if we bite it.”

“You seem awfully flippant about your own death.”

“Eh, if you know my name you probably did a Google and know why I'm used to life and death situations.”

“Care to elaborate?”

I shake my head, then remember she's a radio person so I say aloud, “nope.”

She cracks her neck as if she's a boxer getting ready for round two. “Corporal Han, as you are now a private citizen what do you think your goal is with the Pathbreakers? What's the endgame for you?”

I have to think a minute. She waits. “I... Have no idea.”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Haven't you given it any thought? About what your group looks like and is doing a year from now? Five years from now?”

“Pfft. I barely think a day in advance.” She looks alarmed at that. “Eh, I mean, I live in the moment?” She's not buying that. “Alright, so I'm not a great long term thinker.” She looks even more concerned. “Hey, I'm really good at short term thinking! I just...” I'm not telling this stranger that up until two weeks ago my main concern was thinking about why I wasn't dead in cave R-32.

She tilts her head and turns off the recorder. “Let's say I'm not using that last part, okay?”

“Okay, thanks Ms West.”

“Ginny is fine. But really, haven't you thought about the future at all? This world is in a moment of upheaval and you're at the forefront. You're in a position to change how things end up. You might be in a position to change the world right now, and change it forever.”

That takes me aback. “I didn't think of it like that. I was just, you know, first surviving and then soldiering.”

“You should think about it. For your sake and everyone else's. Thank you for your time, Mr. Han.” She hands me a card. It has her name and contact info. “Let me know if you need to get anything off your chest.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Really, thanks.” As she's turning away, I ask. “Oh, have you talked to Henry yet?”

“No, should I?”

“Well, he is going to be president one day.” She looks at me apprehensively. “No, seriously, talk to him, you'll see.”

She walks away and a few minutes later I see her talking to Henry and oh, they're talking, aaand now they're very close to each other and oh, they're going upstairs. But there's nobody else upstairs. Weird.

The rest of the press thingy goes well, I suppose. We got the Pathbreakers out there as humanity's saviors or whatever. People will know shit is being done.

After a while I get antsy and go outside to try something. I pull out two knives and make them hover, one about five feet above the other. I step onto the lower one and hold onto the higher one. Then I attempt to fly. It goes badly. Why isn't this working? It makes sense, just lift my weight and hold on tight. I just can't seem to get the rhythm down.

I try for about half an hour before they call for everyone to get back on the ferry. I'm thinking about what Ginny West said. About where this is all going. About where I'm going. I can't fly. Maybe that means something. Maybe it means that wherever I'm headed, I have to do it the hard way.

-----

“Hello, I'm Jun Kyung Han.” I extend my hand to the very annoyed mustachioed Pakistani man.

“Dad, like I said, this is Jun, my boyfriend.” Mercy tries to smooth things over. Her dad just scowls.

We're at the Twisted Root Burger Company in downtown Carrollton. Her parents live close by. And I feel like I should crawl out a window to escape.

“Tarik, be nice. It's so nice to meet you dear.” Mercy's mother extends a hand and I shake it. “I'm Sania and this is Tarik.”

I think about what a normal person would do and say. “Lovely to meet you, Sania. Should we order and then sit?” I don't say “now I know where Mercy gets her damn sexy figure from” because that is not something a normal person says.

We order various delicious burgers, an order of fries and an order of onion rings, then sit in one of the big wooden booths and wait for the order.

Sania says, “my daughter says you have been dating for over six months now. Yes?” Her Pakistani accent isn't as thick as Tarik's.

I nod. “Yeah, that's mostly right.”

“Mostly?” Tarik asks sharply. “What is mostly?”

“Dad, calm down,” Mercy emplores. “Jun just likes to hedge almost every statement.”

“I do? Maybe I do.”

Tarik asks, “and why have you waited so long to meet us? Why do you not care about meeting the family of my precious daughter?”

I raise a finger as if to make a point, realize that I have no point to make, and then lower my finger. “I was busy?”

Tarik slams his hand down on the glossy, light brown wooden table. “For six months! SIX MONTHS?!?”

“Hey!” I shout back. “I didn't even know we were dating until three weeks ago!” That sure shuts him up.

Sania raises her eyebrows at Mercy. “So you suddenly move in with this boy after just starting to date? Mercy, Mercy, I am so scandalized. I must tell your poor grandmother about my wayward daughter.” She then picks up her phone and begins to dial. Tarik is seething.

I think that maybe this is not going well. I should say something that a parent would like to hear. Something old people like. I've got it! “Hey, did you see that new NCIS spin off?”

Mercy collapses her head into her hands. Tarik looks at me like I'm a complete idiot. Sania's phone call goes through and she starts speaking in Pakistani or some other language I don't know.

Without looking up, Mercy asks, “Jun, you've never met a girl's parents before, have you?”

“I have but it's been 15 years. And that was just me sitting there and nodding. I wasn't truly, deeply in love with her like I am with you.”

Mercy suddenly looks up. “You think it's true love?”

“Didn't I say that before? Yeah, of course, I'm crazy about you. Bought a damn house for you.” There's suddenly silence at the table. “What?... Was that not something everyone knew?”

They suddenly talk over each other.

“No I didn't-”

“You bought a house for-”

“Tarik he owns a house-”

They talk over each other more and I have to field rapid fire questions like location (north Carrollton), price (around 375k), mortgage (none, paid in full), backyard (small but enough for a dog) and security system (none it's a good neighborhood).

“You must excuse us,” Sania says after everyone calms down. “We've been in small apartments ever since we came here 26 years ago. So a home is quite impressive.”

“Show me this house!” Tarik Mahar commands.

“Can we eat first?” I ask.

Around 45 minutes later, we pull up to the house and I show them around. Mr and Mrs Mahar seem positively mollified. We then relax on the patio furniture, which is currently the only furniture. I offer beer, which is declined, but I pop open a Shiner for myself.

Sania abruptly asks, “so, when will you be married?”

I turn and do a spit take. “Ma-ma-married?” I stammer.

“Mom!” Mercy cries. “It's not like that. We've still got a long way to go before we talk about that.”

“Why?” Tarik asks me. “You love my Mercy, yes? What makes you wait to make her honest?”

“She's already very honest,” I reply.

Mr Mahar slams his hand down on the table. “Fool!” He turns to Mercy. “Is this one as stupid as he seems?”

“He has low wisdom but high intelligence,” she apologetically answers. Dammit Jose, who didn't you tell about that?

Tarik seems a little miffed. “I worked placing bathroom tile for TWENTY FIVE YEARS to keep my family happy and fed. Tell me boy, what will you do for work to keep my daughter?”

“Like I said earlier, I'm working as a Dragoon, in the-”

Tarik waves that off. “Magical nonsense! What will you do after they tear those hell mouths down?”

Again, I'm stumped. I still don't know what I'm fighting for. What I'm moving towards.

“No idea?” He scoffs at me. “Never, ever did I imagine my daughter with someone like this, this kamina, kodan, pagal!” Then, after calling me names in a language I don't understand, he storms off.

I turn to Mrs Mahar, trying to summon a polite smile. “Well, it's been lovely to meet you, I hope we can get together again soon.”

She just shakes her head and says something in a language I later learn is Urdu. She pulls Mercy to the kitchen, talks to her rapidly for several minutes, and then leaves with her husband.

Afterwards, in the silence, Mercy slumps over in a patio chair. Biscuits J. Cannonball Jr. curls up in Mercy's lap. I crack open one of her wine spritzer cans and slide it in front of her.

She pets the cat, calmly sips wine and then says, “that couldn't have gone worse.”

As I stand behind her I begin to rub her shoulders. “Oh, yes it could have,” I say. “I didn't say half of the stuff I was thinking about.”

Despite this, or because of it, after that we have a relaxing evening. Several times she asks me to tell her that I truly love her, and several times I do just that. I tell her I truly love her as I carry her off to bed. I tell her I truly love her as I kiss the inside of her thighs. I tell her I truly love her as she falls asleep in my arms.