The Power of Ten, Book Three : The Human Race

And so the next few days passed.

The college student, Sally, was all happy-chipper to meet up with an internet celebrity like me, and brought in her personal laptop and a Lorepad attuned to it with only up/down buttons active for me. We got set up in a back room with adequate supplies for her, and I chatted with her while reading through stuff very quickly, filing it all away for digestion and organization, building up myself an alternate world database so I could at least pretend I lived here... all the while with an outsider’s skeptical eye on what it all meant, and what the truth of things actually was that was being buried.

In a magical world, the public truth was basically never the correct one...

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Fred pulled up outside a rib shack, pretty much the definition of a local low-end diner, and walked inside.

The waitress took one look at him and got out of his way. The local patrons, a mixture of Hispanics, Blacks, and other humans, pulled away as he stepped by. Even with his Aura withdrawn, he was an intimidating presence, knew it, and he used it to his advantage.

The three men he wanted to see were sitting at a table in the back, and tensed when they saw him coming, hands moving until his eyes flicked, and they all froze.

He calmly placed a fifty on the table. LET’S TALK OUTSIDE, burned above his shoulder.

His eyes were boring into them. They looked at one another, swallowed, hurriedly chowed down the last couple ribs and fries, and quickly got up and headed out the back door. Everybody watched them go, wondering if the three young men were going to die, all extremely curious, and not a one daring to even stand up when the fire door slammed shut.

---

JULIO GARVEZ, DAMIAN SMITH, CHULVAT NARINTHRANGURA, the letters above his shoulder spelled out as he looked at the mismatched trio. They were in jeans and t-shirts, cheap jackets, no gang signs on them... but all three of them were packing both guns and knives, and at once ready to fight and urgently wishing they were anywhere but here.

“That’s us,” Julio puffed out, trying for macho, and finding it fading in the face of those black and silver eyes, and the sheer number of scars on this guy... and the very tangible aura of power around him. “What you want with us, man?”

THE CITY OF BALTIMORE WOULD LIKE TO OFFER THE THREE OF YOU A PACT, Fred replied, and the three young men gaped at him. IT APPROVED OF HOW YOU GOT RID OF CLATERHOUSE AFTER HE RAPED DAMIAN’S SISTER. All three of them stiffened in shock at his words. No one except the three of them knew what had happened to the bastard. I’M NOT GOING TO BE AROUND THAT LONG, AND BALTIMORE NEEDS SOME OF ITS OWN TO STEP UP AND HANDLE THE SHIT THAT NEEDS TO BE DONE... AND THE THREE OF YOU PROVED YOU COULD DO THAT.

“Shiiiit,” the half-Thai, half-German Chulvat muttered. “Us? Working for the City of Baltimore? Dude, no offense, you are freaking scary as shit, but, you know, we ain’t exactly the most upstanding citizens. We all got records. Julio and Damian have both done time.”

THE CITY DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR RECORDS. IT CARES ABOUT YOU BEING ABLE TO DO THE JOBS IT NEEDS YOU TO DO. IN SOME CASES, THAT MEANS KILLING PEOPLE WHO NEED TO BE DEAD. IN OTHER CASES, IT MEANS WARNING THEM ONCE TO STRAIGHTEN UP. Fred looked over the three of them. CITYBOUND NEED FRIENDS, BECAUSE YOU’RE GOING TO PISS OFF PEOPLE WHO DON’T WANT THE CITY TO BE ABLE TO DO ANYTHING TO THEM. YOU’RE GOING TO NEED TO BE SMART, KNOW WHO TO SPEAK WITH TO GET THINGS DONE, AND SOMETIMES DO THE THINGS YOURSELVES.

YOU’RE SMART, YOU’RE SURVIVORS, AND YOUR FAMILIES HAVE BEEN IN THE CITY FOR THREE GENERATIONS. YOU’RE HER KIND OF BOYS, AND SHE WANTS YOU TO WORK FOR HER. Fred paused significantly. AND IF YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT MONEY, SHE PAYS WELL. IF YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT RESPECT... THERE’S A LOT OF PEOPLE LEERY ABOUT CITYBOUND, AND OTHERS WHO RESPECT THEM A GREAT DEAL.

IT’S GOING TO BE DANGEROUS, IT’S GOING TO BE EXCITING, AND YOU’RE ALWAYS GOING TO HAVE STUFF TO DO.

AND IF YOU SURVIVE, YOU CAN MAKE SEVEN, OR EVEN EIGHT, PRETTY DAMN EASILY.

All three of them blinked. “You serious ‘bout that?” the mulatto Damian asked, staring at him.

ALL THREE OF YOU ARE BETTER SUITED FOR THIS LIFE THAN I WAS, he answered. YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILIES ARE HERE. YOU WANT TO PROTECT THEM, THERE ARE FEW WAYS BETTER THAN BEING CITYBOUND TO WHERE THEY LIVE.

All three of them glanced at one another. This was not going anything like they had expected. “What... do we have to do?” Julio asked, clearly interested in this opportunity to become way more than anything he’d thought possible.

THERE IS A MAN NAMED WILLIAM HEARSE LIVING UPTOWN. Fred listed off the address, watched them memorize it. HE’S A SERIAL KILLER AND CLOSET ADEPT OF SKULOS.

GO INTO HIS HOME TONIGHT, KILL HIM, AND TAKE HIS BODY AND DELIVER IT TO THE GHOULS AT FINAL WISHES, COURTESY OF THE CITY OF BALTIMORE. CALL AHEAD, THEY ARE OPEN AT ALL HOURS.

THERE IS A SAFE IN HIS BASEMENT. TAKE IT WITH YOU.

HAVE THAT SAFE WAITING WITH YOU AT THE VACANT LOT AT THE CORNER OF PRITZKY AND EIGHTH AT TEN AM TOMORROW MORNING. I WILL MEET YOU THERE WITH THE PACTS.

He looked each of them in the eyes. ANY QUESTIONS?

They looked at one another, back at him, and shook their heads. “Kill a serial killer who’s got some minor spells. Got it,” Damian said. “What about you? Why ain’t you doing this?”

THIS IS YOUR TASK. IF YOU DON’T KILL HIM, THE CITY WILL BE DISAPPOINTED IN YOU, AND I’LL TAKE CARE OF HIM. SHE DOESN’T MAKE JOB OFFERS TO JUST ANYONE.

There was a sparkle of light, and he vanished from sight, Riding the Light back to Sleipner on the other side of the building, who obligingly headed out into traffic after he swung onto the unicorn bike again.

---

“Who’da thunk that killing that fucktard would be our big break?” Chulvat muttered aloud for the three of them as they all stared at the empty spot, and imagined themselves using that kind of magic.

“Citybound Warlocks. Us.” Damian took a slow, deep breath. “Way he was talking, we ain’t gonna be the only ones. But we gonna be the ones in the shadows, doing the dirty work, right?”

“That means we gonna be movers and shakers in the shadows, then.” Julio’s dark eyes glittered. “Them fucktards in the gangs are gonna be working for us, or they are gonna have some really bad luck coming their way.”

Smiles broke out on all their faces. With the favor of the streets themselves, what couldn’t they do? They were gonna be real powers in Baltimore, and all they had to do was kill a serial killer to do it? This was like made for them...

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It was amusing how easy it was to disguise myself. A Cantrip to invert the lighting effect on my hair, and the people who just might have heard that Traveler was living here or visiting the library there suddenly were looking for someone who now had white hair and light sunglasses, wearing a business skirt and partial heels... something I had certainly not planned on wearing, but I had access to the clothes, and the glasses could make my eyes look blue with another Cantrip, so why not?

At night, I went through Renewal, and shot some more incorporeal undead along with the people that Briggs had brought along. They advanced the Names of their Weapons, aiming to open that second Slot and start an Arsenal effect, or like Briggs and Master Fred, added to Slaughter or Arsenal.

It was versatility in magic items and Weapons, which would not wear out, versus much greater versatility in spellcasting, which had a much shorter duration.

Slaughter was arguably more powerful from a combat perspective, but Baneskulls could suffice for them in the short term. Notably, adding Vivic to their Weapons on the sly meant they could keep shooting down these undead quietly and continuously for full Karma. They were perfectly willing to shut up and earn the equivalent of $300k a day to advance their Weapons along, so Vivic was definitely the first thing they wanted on the agenda... and then Frost, to cover for it.

Of course, I also got to hear about all the shenanigans that Master Fred was pulling. Warlocks were usually considerably more circumspect about the stuff they did, but Baltimore had finally gotten the use of a Senior Warlock for a short time, and was crazily making use of him.

He crashed through the window of a board meeting of the local spice-making company, and shot three members of the Board right there, one of whom was a body-jumping Demonbound, another was a servant of Huul, and the last a dedicated Priest of Angar the Deceiver. Three others left the Board thereafter, but not before the company and its controlling shareholders forked out enough money to clean up the toxins it was pumping out of its chimneys... and started to make some serious revisions to its product lines after Fred dropped off a statement reiterating what their alchemical processes were doing, and how the city and the winds and the land didn’t really like it.

The company and its owners weren’t happy, but the city knew who they were, as did the winds, and the Heavenbound. Being told they’d be held responsible was totally undesired by any involved after what had happened to the Board members who’d urged the changes... and then finding out they’d been dupes of a darker agenda probably wasn’t nice, but it had made them money, so they hadn’t cared before...

He was tearing down abandoned buildings whose owners had left them for the city, and the city government just left them to rot, unwilling to spend the time and money to dispose of them. Master Fred was even shattering the basements and filling them in to return the lots to level ground that dirt could grow over.

At the same time, he was mending cracked lots, putting signs and posts back up, fixing up streets and drains, even reducing junk lots to ash and less... and then reducing the yards and homes of those who had dumped the trash to ash with them. Baltimore was irked, and wanted the people to know it.

The dichotomy of doing public works and offing parasites and drains on the city was the unique work of a Citybound. I could only smile and shake my head. While people would complain about losing their houses just because they dumped their trash in a vacant lot, the city’s perspective was much different, and cared about them no more than they cared about it...

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“You want me to talk to these fellows about being a Citybound?” I asked Master Fred archly. The three young men with square pupils shuffled nervously as I looked them over, clearly able to feel something about me now that they hadn’t before.

THEY ARE PRIMARY CITYBOUND, I’M HEAVENBOUND. IT’S PROBABLY NOT APPROPRIATE THAT I DO SO.

Meaning that, given the looks of them, he was having a motivation to potentially shoot them, or warn them that they were on a bad path. They were very nervous in his presence, and they had the right to be. Primary Heavenbound with Four Wrath and three extra Pacts was leagues above a newly-minted set of Citybound.

I gave Master Fred a look, he shrugged, and held out a blank book. LEVELING GUIDE, he wrote thoughtfully.

I sighed and accepted it. He gave the three young men another stare that shriveled their souls, and got back onto Sleipner before driving away.

“Ugh, Miss Traveler,” they were kind of stumbling over themselves. As they were speaking Human, they’d naturally seen my video. “What, what is his problem?”