Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

The Fixer's Guild local HQ was a sight to behold. Not because of any grand architecture or spectacle, the building inside the Grave Zone was actually rather moderate in it's design. The sheer number of people going about their own business, however, was startling. Portham wasn't a big city but there were thousands of people here.

"Damn, this place is busy today," Imara noted from beside him. "My guess is the Wardens are looking for help."

That was a new one for Mark, an inquisitive tone to his voice as he asked, "Wardens? What, like magic cops? If they're based out of Edinburgh, I'm gonna start questioning things."

"Rude to reference things I haven't seen yet. Or read? You seem like a book guy."

"Read, yea. Or, listen to. Audio books and all."

"Well, no, not like magic cops. More like mercenaries or bounty hunters. A little bit more noble than either but they're still money focused. Remember how I said monsters come to Grave Zones if they get left open?" Mark nodded an affirmation and Imara continued, "well, when the monsters go into a Grave Zone, someone has to go clear them out to close it again. If someone randomly comes across one, they'll probably die. The Wardens made that their job. The monsters have parts that are good for alchemy and crafting and stuff so they're expensive."

"So they're monster hunters... why are they called Wardens then," Mark asked.

"If I had to take a guess, the founders felt they had a responsibility to close Zones. Might have even started with noble intentions."

The crowd before them seemed like the kind that would think killing monsters is a lucrative or worthy endeavor, be it for glory, wealth, or honor.

Mark went to ask a question but was jostled by Imara grabbing hold of his hand and leading him through a slightly less dense part of the assembly. Her grip was firm so he wouldn't get lost and she more or less dragged him through by main strength. Coming out the other side, Mark was met with the door to an office Imara simply strolled into casually.

Inside the office was a surprisingly nice, modern desk. If the legs were any indication, one of the sit-stand desks that could raise or lower. There were two filing cabinets off to one side, with a small table and coffee pot on the opposite side. The desk was currently in the standing position with a well groomed androgynous figure behind it. Their black hair was set with gel and slicked back, cut short and looking professional. That professionalism was matched by the suit the figure wore and was only slightly dampened by the dark purple, stylized tie.

Imara stepped up and smiled towards them. "Una, glad you're here. Busy day out there, huh?"

Una spoke with lilting voice that just barely tipped the scales towards masculine, a faintly British accent slipping in now and again. "You've no idea. Thankfully, I don't have to do much, the system handles all the busy work. Right now, I'm keeping an eye on target numbers for the upcoming raid. Who's your friend, little badger?"

"This is Mark, he's a bit new. Potent who didn't realize, like that one guy you talked about."

Mark offered out a hand and was met with a pleasantly firm grip. Una knew how to properly shake hands, at least. Firm without attempting to be crushing. "Nice to meet you, Una."

They nodded with a polite smile. "I'm going to guess you have some questions, else Imara would have just shown you to the board. Go on then, I can multitask."

"The biggest one is how all of this works. Seems like you sponsor gig work for the most part but are there really that many jobs to do?"

Una picked up a card from a holder on the desk, handing it to Mark as he answered the question to the sound of a keyboard's clicking. "Most of the work we get is either combat, construction, or crafting. The three fundamental C's of Fixers. For combat, it tends to be from the Wardens but there have been jobs for mercenary work. The old world has a lot of those, all their posturing and wars. Here stateside, things are more chaotic, especially after Admix fell apart.

"Construction is mostly what you'd expect but with a magical twist. Why cast concrete when you can shape stone, after all? Crafting is the big money maker. We earn a cut of any commission we help facilitate. Combat has a big role to play in that, with monster parts and all. The medical aspects are also good for business, if unfortunate."

Mark nodded along at the information. He could image the costs associated with fighting monsters. If not for his ability to heal, he'd have a large hole in his arm still. When he felt he had a chance, he spoke again. "You talked about the Wardens. Imara says they clear out abandoned Grave Zones that attracted monsters. Is there anything else you can tell me about them?"

"A curious sort. Good, knowledge is a powerful thing. This is fairly common to find so I see no reason to make a show of it, but information of value it is. I need a small favor from you before I can tell you anything about them."

Mark thought for a moment, eyeing Una. "I suppose it depends on what you ask. I can't do anything too crazy, I'm basically normal."

"Good, then you'll be perfect for this. The Wardens always need low level workers to do hauling. Bringing supplies in, then materials and wounded out. Don't get a lot of people volunteering for that. Sign on for that and we'll be in business."

Hesitation was Mark's first instinct. He didn't know these people or what it might entail. Imara's lack of response, however, calmed him a bit. He decided to put forth a question, testing things. "No fighting or anything, right? Just moving things?"

The fixer gave an affirmative nod before speaking. "The pay isn't anything glorious by aquatic standards but for a recent mundane, you might be impressed for what a few hours of work will get you. The raid is tomorrow evening, just after sundown."

After just a moment more of consideration, Mark agreed to take the job and Una began his explanation. "The Wardens, or the Wardens of the Olive Arrow to give them their full title, are an organization formed from a sect of warriors and religious scholars. Originally, they closed Zones to safeguard people from being unlucky enough to stumble into a lurker den. When the alchemical boom happened in the 1200's or so, monster parts became valuable ingredients. Over time, they turned into the Wardens we know today, though they still espouse their original values.

"Now, my boy, I have a question. You said you were basically normal. What can you do?" Una planted his hands on his desk, leaning on the smooth wooden surface as they watched Mark with their full attention.

"Well, uhh... not much, at the moment. I can make myself a little faster for a while." Mark looked down in mock embarrassment. He didn't want to lie but he felt that revealing the true extent of what he could do wasn't the wisest decision.

"Aero potent indeed. You'll learn to do more with time, I'm sure of it. The ones who don't figure out their magic until later in life tend to be quick learners, I find. Drifters are a whole other matter... Regardless, the best trainer is experience. Any more questions?"

Some little tickle in the back of his mind itched for more but there was only one question that really came to mind. Mark glanced at Imara for a moment, who'd been listening patiently and quietly, before he leaned in a bit. "Little badger?"

She seized upon that immediately, a snorting of laughter as she grabbed his arm. "Come on Mark, let's go get you set up for the raid. I'll tell you the story later."

Una gave a small wave as they departed office. "Walk the tide, you two."

After the two left the office, Mark couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face as he looked towards Imara. "Little badger... it's so silly and cute."

She punched his arm good-naturedly. "Quit it. He calls me that because I wore a badger mole shirt when I came in and he thought he was clever."

Mark chuckled as the pair came up to one of the many boards. It was actual wood with papers taped or pinned to the wood with tacks. He looked at it with mild wonder before a thought popped into his head. "This feels so old school. Why don't they have a TV or something?"

Imara gave a shrug as she scanned the pages. "Tradition is my guess. The guild is at least five centuries old if the stories check out." After another moment of scanning, she pointed to a page on the wall. "Here's the one for the porter position. If you wanna take the job, just touch it and the magic should work pretty quickly. I never understood how it works but it does so fuck it."

Mark reached out and touched the paper, trying to see if he could sense any magic before he shot an Observe at it. He found that he could sense a slight tingling from it with the same sort of 'flavor' as the raw magic he'd touched before, that paradoxical feeling of hot and cold. It was far less intense, more akin to fresh laundry and the first breeze of autumn than any wildfire or blizzard. With his curiosity satisfied, he shot an Observe towards the paper.

Mark pushed a small amount of intent towards the paper and a window appeared in front of him.

Mark paused at the note of a reward in money. He double checked the page and let of a disbelieving laugh. "No way this pays four hundred bucks, that's as much as some people make in a week. And there's... a title? That's a new one"

"Prices are a bit inflated compared to mundane life. It's easy to live comfortably without much risk, even without much in the way of power. Living safely is another matter."

"I... I was gonna say something about how people have been nice but, uhh... yea, earlier kinda killed that idea."

"People have been nice because you've only visited people and places that I trust not to gut you. I've been rather careful with that, your guts would smell terrible."

Mark softly chuckled as he slipped the paper into his pocket to hide putting it in his inventory. "Well, my guts and I are happy to still be together. You gonna find a porter thing too?"

Imara shook her head as they moved away from the board. "They have a power cap for porters and I'm over it. I'd have to take a combat role and I'm not quite to that level yet."

"So... that means I'm on my own then?"

"Only for lugging shit around. You'll do fine. Just don't try and hit anything and you probably won't draw any attention."

"Probably?"

"Anyone ever tell you you look like a snack?" The grin on her face, when paired with her lightly ruddy cheeks, caused Mark to hide his reddening face in his hands. This, in turn, only made Imara laugh. "It's just easy enough to be satisfying when you set me up like that. What's this title you mentioned about?"

"It's called 'Porter.' Let me see if..." Mark focused on the name and a tool tip did handily pop up.

"Love it when I get to see the effect of a reward before I put in the work..." Mark nodded along with satisfaction at the tooltip, noticing Imara looking at him curiously. "What?"

"I can't see your stuff anymore. Did it kick me out?"

Mark looked to the top left of his field of view and noticed it had, indeed, kicked Imara out of his party. "Huh. I'll have to test that. Maybe a distance thing?"

"Could be. We can test it later but I wanna ask a favor, if that's OK."

Mark stopped and looked at her, something about the way she was asking permission first making him believe it was something more serious. "I'll hear you out, at least."

"After what happened, I... kinda don't want to go back home and be alone. You cool if I crash at your place?"

Mark looked at her, the question still being processed in his mind. When it finally dawned on him what she was asking, his face reddened. "You want to stay at my place? This isn't some kind of elaborate way to tease me again, is it?"

"Not this time, promise." She sounded earnest with the smallest twinge of pained sadness. "Just don't want to be alone tonight and I figure I trust you enough not to do anything weird. You're a bit of a pervert but you drink your respect women juice like a good boy."

Mark looked at her, mildly dumbfounded. "You have an uncanny ability to make jokes at seemingly serious times..."

"If you can't laugh at the bad shit, what can you laugh at? Make jokes out of spine, piss in the eye of depression, all that fun stuff." There was a faint smile to her, seemingly trying to make herself believe her own words.

"Right... Well... I'm not going to say no if that's what you're expecting. You're welcome to stay if you need to, just... Please try not to tease me too much. Oh, and it might be a little messy. Sorry."

I'm sure it's fine. Let's grab something to eat, yea? Starving." With that, the two headed out of the Fixer's Guild building and returned to the real world, thoughts about food and what exactly Imara had planned burning a hole in Mark's head.