Good Vibrations

John faded back into consciousness, his arms somehow finding their way around Jenny in his sleep. He had planned to wake up at five-thirty, and though the Game hadn’t given him a slider to set a sleep time, he found that he always woke up when he meant to.

With that in mind, he reasoned he had plenty of time to get to the firing range. Deciding to rest for a few minutes before getting up, his arms circled his lover tighter. I love Jenny and her… his hands were over her stomach, and he realized that it was uncharacteristically hard and defined. It was also radiating an intense heat. ..rock hard abs? Furnace-like heat?

His mind slowly woke up as he could tell something was cataclysmically wrong, and he noticed bushy hair tickling his nose. With a start he realized who his arms were encircling, and he stiffened as reality shattered his thoughts like a bullet through a window. Cinder, I need you to listen to me carefully.

Are you in danger, master? her analytical voice rang out in his head, and David appeared in the room, landing on his dresser quietly, eager for breakfast.

Well… not physically, no. I need you to appear above me in your incorporeal form and tell me who I’m in bed with, John explained, cracking open his eyes and watching the fiery cowgirl follow his instructions.

It’s Abigail. I had thought you two were close, is something the matter? Cinder asked, returning to her elemental space when he didn’t have further commands.

I’ll tell you in a minute. Placing the bottom of his feet against the bed, John Jumped out of bed so as to not disturb his sleeping friend. Summoning a chunk of meat from his inventory, he tossed it toward David, who caught it in his beak happily. Looking back, Abigail was the only one left on the bed, which meant Jenny was already awake. He cracked open the bedroom door, the scent of bacon wafting to his nose.

Walking a bit more confidently into the living room, he followed the enticing smell into the kitchen, where Jenny had just finished rolling up a breakfast burrito filled with cheese, eggs, bacon, and potatoes if the various food and food waste littering the counter was anything to go by. “Morning John!” she chirped, not looking back at him. “How did you sleep?”

“Slept okay,” he said slowly, walking up and hugging her from behind. “What about you? Early show this morning?”

“Nope, I don’t have work at all today. I didn’t sleep, and I knew you were going on another contract today so I made you breakfast.” She turned around to hand him two of the hefty burritos and kiss him on the cheek. “I hope you don’t mind that I let Abigail stay here overnight. She couldn’t use the waypoint to get back without you.”

Let me just get this straight, “You stayed up instead of going to sleep,” reasonable so far, “sent someone else to bed instead, and made this big breakfast? Are you feeling okay?” He looked into her loving eyes, wondering why he was teetering on the edge of looking a gift horse in the mouth.

“Great, why do you ask?” She raised an eyebrow at him, the wide grin on her face never leaving.

“You know, I was just asking myself the same question,” John said, putting one of the burritos in his inventory and taking a bite out of the other. “This is really good!”

“I know,” she winked before pecking him on the cheek again and grabbing his butt, “you should take it with you, don’t want to be late to the firing range.”

“Right.” He used Advanced Spy on her when she turned around, though her sheet showed only good things. He felt a spark of smug pride at the fact that based on her first sheet, she had now fucked him more than all of her flings combined, though that milestone had passed a while ago and he just hadn’t looked at her sheet in a long time.

“I’ll probably be back before sunset,” John said, checking his phone. Mandruzzo had texted him and accepted the invite to the contract, so he invited Grace to it. “Love you, see you later.” He gave her a retaliation butt grope, and she responded by turning around and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss. After a few seconds, he reluctantly pulled away.

“Do you really have to go?” Jenny asked, one of her hands wandering down his back as she looked up at him with a lustful smile.

“What smells so good in here?” Abigail asked, walking into the kitchen. Internally, John both cursed and thanked her for interrupting them.

“Yes, I really have to go,” John said, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.” Breaking out of her grasp, he gave her an apologetic look before Jumping out of the open kitchen door. “Alright, bye!”

He lunged forward and grabbed his waypoint before the vile seductress could tempt him even further. He arrived in his dormitory, breakfast burrito in hand. Due to his sudden movements, some of the filling began to spill out. Not one to waste meat, David appeared and dived down, catching the bacon out of the air.

“You could’ve just asked for more food,” John laughed, taking another chunk of feed out of his inventory and tossing it up into the air for his avian companion.

Walking to the door, he peeked his head through to see an empty living room. “Grace, are you still here?”

When he got no reply, he retreated to his room and changed out of his pajamas and into his battle equipment by swapping his loadout. He took the belt buckle off and unfolded it, transforming it back into the mask. He put it on, trying to will it into casual wear using its glamour enchantment.

Though it did not transform into the headphones he requested, the mask on his face slowly morphed into wooden framed glasses that looked like they were in fashion a century and a half ago. It also took the shape of light stubble on his chin. He pulled up the camera app on his phone, a little disoriented by the sight in front of him when he still felt the mask on his face.

He put his hand up to his cheek, his palm brushing against the sleek metal of the mask. Maybe I shouldn’t wear something that disguises my identity in the private base of a bunch of bounty hunters, John thought, already foreseeing issues with wearing the mask inside. So, he undisguised it and took it off, folding it back into a belt buckle.

It’s not fully co-operative yet… He brushed his fingers against the belt buckle, which felt unnaturally cold. Still, glasses and stubble are just as innocuous as headphones, maybe more.

Exiting their dorm’s barrier and then the actual room, he strolled down the hallway with a pep in his step and a burrito in hand, relishing the savory delight.

The Brit was already at the firing range, shooting down the lane with the closest paper target with decent accuracy, though she used both guns. Pressing the button on the side, she reeled it in as he approached. “So? What do you think?”

“I think you should be wearing some hearing protection,” John said, taking a pair of noise-cancelling earmuffs from the wall and hitting them with a burst of Clean before presenting them to her.

“You never wear any!” Grace complained, taking the protection from him nonetheless. She slipped it over her head, leaving one ear uncovered to hear his advice.

“I also have ridiculous reality-breaking powers that keep my body in this default state as long as I don’t take damage. You’re not so lucky,” John teased, reaching over and taking the target off the wall.

“You’d do better with one gun, get that skill down before you graduate to two,” John said, walking beside her and showing her the results of her shooting. It was a body-sized target, and she had hit it with all the bullets she fired, but in none of the vital places.

“But you don’t-”

“Comparing yourself to me is a bad idea, Grace. My abilities afford me conveniences unique even to Abyssals and generally speed up my development.” He looked her up and down before continuing, “Give me your belt.”

“Blimey, I didn’t ask you here for that,” Grace said, swatting him with the back of her hand. John laughed in response, taking no damage from the hit.

“I’m not asking you to take your pants off, I want to make a modification to it,” John explained, taking the leather belt as his fashionable friend grumbled to herself. He used Craft on it, picturing his gun belt in his mind.

Quick-Draw Gun Belt
A belt modified with Iron Wood to have two holsters for Desert Eagle pistols that are secure when strapped in but magically release easier when drawn quickly by the wearer. Has slots for thirty-two bullets lining the front and sides of the belt.
Cost: Leather Belt, 2 Iron Wood, 300 MP
Craft? [Y]/[N]

He tapped yes, and the belt floated in midair. Loops to fit bullets were sewn out of the leather, while two logs of Iron Wood appeared from his inventory, chopping themselves into tiny pieces before studding the belt and helping the holsters take shape.

“There! Now you won’t have to put them in your pockets when they’re not in use,” he said, handing the belt back to her. It still fit her perfectly, and the gun in her right hand fit into its holster comfortably.

“Now, take aim,” John ordered, taking another target from the wall behind them and clipping it to the reeling system, pressing the button and moving it back to the end of the lane.

She put both hands on the pistol, looking down the sight to her target. She inhaled sharply as she pulled the trigger and jumped, a hole appearing above the shoulder of the silhouette target.

“You need to steady yourself, and breathe more evenly,” John said, sidestepping behind her and putting his hands on hers to adjust her aim. He put his hand against her back, straightening it. “Don’t lean like that when you shoot. Grip it more tightly, and a little higher. You want to be able to absorb as much recoil as possible.”

“What,” Grace deadpanned, looking back and up at him. He took the initiative and shifted her hands on the gun to his specifications, steadying her shaking hand.

“Like this. Now, I want you to aim at the chest. Don’t pull the trigger like that. You need to squeeze it deliberately. Since you’re new, you’ll have to shoot slower for more accurate shots,” the gunman explained, laughing at the annoyed pout she shot at him. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Everybody starts off where you are right now.” Except me, I guess.

“One last thing. Breathe regularly when you shoot. Breathing like you did made you jerk the gun. Even the slightest twitch can throw off your aim. Now, try putting all of that to use.” John put his hands over hers as she started to squeeze the trigger.

Her shot rang true, piercing the center of the circle that denoted the silhouette’s chest. “Good. Now try it on your own. Aim for the head.” After giving her the directions, he looked to the side of the stall to read the instructions printed there for setting the target or targets to move.

After he heard the shot sound off, he looked down the lane at the target to see that she had just missed the head circle, a little below and to the left. On a real person, she would have hit the neck. “That’s not so bad. Here.” He took the box of bullets out of his inventory and slotted them into her gun belt, reloading the gun at her hip as well.

He spent an hour improving her technique, and in that time she was able to get the basics of shooting still targets and reloading down. Shooting even slowly moving targets was somewhat inconsistent, but he felt confident that she’d perform well in a fight. He also responded to Mandruzzo, adding him into a temporary group chat with his roommates for the contract.

Happy with her progress, she pointed the pistol at him jokingly. “I’m a fast learner, eh? Maybe I should take over.” The mirth drained from her face as he grew deadly serious.

“If you’re going to point that at me, you may as well pull the trigger,” John said, grabbing the end of the gun and pulling it against his chest. “If you take away anything from ALL of this, never, ever, point your gun, even unloaded, at something you’re not willing to shoot.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Yes, I did. I cannot understate the importance of it. Guns are for actions. If you point your gun at someone, chances are they won’t think it’s funny.” John released his hold on her weapon, his smile reappearing. “Otherwise, you’ve really improved. It’s going to take a while to make this stuff reflex, but you did a good job today. Let’s go meet with everyone else.”

The five of them assembled in the lobby of the Rider-Waite Springfield travel hub, Amy and Grace in new battle gear. Grace sported her new gun belt, the two pistols holstered therein. Instead of the usual black sports bra under her jean jacket, she wore a tight blue vest cut low enough that her tattoo still peeked out.

The last to arrive, Amy had donned her new beast tamer armor, a familial symbol that she had completed her training. The necklace of fangs it was stored in still hung around her neck, the lowest nearly touching the top of her breasts, which were hugged tightly by the armor and its wrappings. Her hair was streaked with green, the same green as one of the two feathers which decorated her hair, the other striped white and red. It complimented the green war-paint on her cheeks and above her eyes. Tufts of white fur adorned her shoulders, connected to the front of the armor by leather strips. She wore fingerless brown leather gloves etched with green runes. Vitaly, her frost phoenix, landed on one of her fingers and disappeared, a circular band of green on her wrist glowing as the bird faded away.

Once everyone was together, John explained their travel plan. “The fee is waived because we’re travelling for a contract, but we’re going to have to go through three other mirrors to get to the proper Valvia mirror. Like a series of connecting flights in a mundane airport.”

“How do mundane people fly?” Abigail asked, making the rest of the group burst out into laughter.