Remote Access

The roiling mass of men pressed against the stage, circling around it as the crowd focused on Charlotte and her strange protector. The woman, pigtails and all, was taller than most men Charlotte had ever seen, and swung her baseball bat and a massive knife with a kind of cold efficiency that was nearly as terrifying at the men she felled one by one.

The terrified teenager, only eighteen as of a few days prior, clung to the woman. She’d seen the other dancers dragged away, could still see two of them trampled to **** right where they’d been thrown to the tile floor. She trembled throughout her body, utterly unable to process the first thing about this nightmarish scenario.

All she knew was that for some strange reason, this beautiful woman was protecting her. She was so pretty, she must be a cape. She got confirmation on that, at least, the first time one of those half-feral men had managed to drive a knife into the tall woman’s thigh. She’d grunted and a swirl of glowing golden streamers had wrapped around the wound, pushing the knife out to clatter onto the stage even as the tall woman had caved in the offending man’s skull. That had bought them a few moments.

Charlotte blinked and let go of Keilnei’s leg. She was interfering with the taller woman’s footing, which could be deadly in a situation like this. She snatched the knife, still glistening with blood that wasn’t quite the right color of red, and swiped at the hand of another man who dared to approach. He withdrew his limb quickly enough to keep it, more’s the pity, but that would have to do for now.

Charlotte’s fear ebbed, and in its place an indignant rage flowed forth at the thought of these lowlifes touching her. She jabbed her knife at the outstretched hands, pulling back whenever they tried to focus on her. She aimed at hands, wrists, forearms: any exposed flesh would do. She could only guess at what would be useful, but she figured that anything would be an improvement as long as she didn’t impede her new friend.

A strange intrusive thought kept flickering through her head, that she’d be much better at this if she had a proper sword. It was probably true, but odd. She’d never used a sword in her life, but it seemed that she was a natural with the knife. She kept stepping in and out of the fray, dodging her enemies’ clumsy strikes like they were dancing together.

I wonder, she thought, if this is what getting superpowers feels like? Would I even know? Then again, being kind of good at using a knife would be such a shitty power.

Keilnei and Charlotte were slowly driven back into the old clothing store, or perhaps it would be better to say they gave ground. It was difficult to clamber up onto the stage, which gave Keilnei time to bash heads like they were golf balls, but left very exposed. Seeing the blood left Charlotte strangely unmoved. They were enemies; they deserved what they got.

The two women slowly backed further and further away. On the one hand they lost some of the benefit of the **** point, but on the other hand they became progressively less visible. Without a pair of attractive young women on a pedestal serving as a prize and beacon, the crowd outside of the shop lost their focus. People peeled away or joined the brawl for their own reasons instead of “standing in line” to get their chance. The girls needed to stay ready for those that slipped by, but eventually they had a moment to talk.

“Please tell me you know a way out of here.” Charlotte asked, pleading with the taller woman. “We might be able to wait it out, but…”

“I’m afraid we can neither leave nor hide. Not yet.” Keilnei said grimly, “I have a companion out there. She will need help.”

••••••••••

Gil had to believe that Silky would still be near Menja. It was the best information he had left to go on, and the Chosen giantess was currently the only thing he could see on the battlefield, waist deep in some kind of unreflective black mass. Once he was sufficiently free of bugs to orient, Gil angled Boco towards Menja and spurred him forward in a straight line.

“Hold on!” He shouted at his passenger, “We’re going back in!”

“We-“ Othala cut off her own indignant response before they plunged back into the danger zone, probably realizing the futility.

The bugs went wild almost the very moment he turned around, confirming that Skitter and Hellhound had been following quickly. Othala squeezed him around the waist, almost hard enough to hurt, but she kept doing her primary job of keeping the bird invulnerable.

Gil blitzed towards Menja’s midriff, Boco’s talons brushing the top of the strange black cloud. He held Silky’s Beastmaster sphere, hoping that the faint warmth of it would let him know when she was in range to recall.

The good news? It did.

The bad news? It operated by shooting a beam of red light, and it seemed that the black smog blocked light completely. Gil cursed himself for not experimenting more; as things stood, he wasn’t sure what else might block the beam. Sometimes the Company made its tools uncounterable, but that cost extra in the real product. “Adding friction to enhance the gameplay experience” was how they sold it to customers, but really it was just cheaper to make tools that piggyback off of local physics.

At least the light gave him a trajectory. He swiped away the bugs from his face again, sending out another recall beam in the few moments of vision he had. He and Boco dove in the direction the red light had fired, hopefully taking them straight towards Silky.

The darkness felt like cold mist against his skin, but the strangest thing was that the buzzing of a thousand wasps and flies all over his body was muffled. Many of them were literally crawling on his ears, and he could barely hear them. All told, Gil could respect it. “Super smoke bomb that cancels out the senses” was an underutilized design for a power.

Professional admiration aside, he also couldn’t even see his own hand, let alone the beam of light from the sphere.

“Silky!” He yelled, accidentally opening enough space for a few flies to make it between his lips. “You here?”

“I am!” He heard in reply.

Silky’s voice was audible, but the way the darkness warped it was odd. She sounded like she was at the other end of a long corridor, but he also couldn’t pinpoint what direction she was speaking from.

Boco let out a distressed “kweh” at the exact moment Gil felt pyromancy surge through his body. He experimentally started burning off the bugs on himself, and noted that the supernatural flames seemed to burn away the darkness. Presumably this was a known interaction, since Othala and Grue were enemies before he arrived, or maybe Othala was just improvising as much as he was.

Whatever the reason, Silky rushed over and clambered onto Boco’s back, having seen a flicker of the fire’s glow as a beacon through the darkness. Unfortunately, a contingent of the bugs leapt onto Silky just as soon as she proved to be friendly with Gil.

“Go!” Othala choked out.

She started coughing, insects filling her mouth and **** her. Gil didn’t need to be told twice. He was out of there, though Boco ended up ramming into multiple walls on the way out. Thankfully the bird was invulnerable again, but his riders weren’t, and Gil got a pretty nasty bump and a familiar, deep throbbing pain ran up and down his arm. He felt the pleasant distance he’d cultivated over the years settle in, and imagined his “real” self puppeteering the poor bastard with the broken arm from a distance.

Far worse than mere pain, the delay was long enough that Gil could hear something coming towards them with thunderously bounding strides. If it was Nessa, great. If it was Hellhound’s dogs? He didn’t want to see one in these circumstances. He peeled out, and he didn’t look back for the rest of the night.

Not half an hour later, when he stopped for a few moments to give Boco a rest and return Silky to her Beastmaster Sphere, Othala leapt off and went running back towards the battle at full tilt.

Gil let her. He was pretty sure he was still being hunted, and he wasn’t sure about what to do with that woman just yet. Extracting Menja would be a bitch, but he already had a plan in mind for that and it didn’t require him to stick around here any longer. Better to get back on the bird and lead the Undersiders on a merry chase until he was sure he’d lost them.

He wanted Othala, but she’d keep. Worst case scenario, he’d have an enemy to handle later. Better her than forcing the Company to come up with someone scarier.

••••••••••

“Lookin good, Snowblower.” Skidmark said, practically rubbing in the name he’d given her, “Damn. Powers do a good job, eh? Glad I never needed to see what kind of ugly ho you looked like before. Now shut up and wait; looks like the fighting’s getting close to done.”

He’d demanded that she pull back her hood and sunglasses, saying that they made her look like a fed. Whatever a fed was, they were presumably enemies of the Merchants.

The group of men and women were dirty, rumpled, poorly clothed, and despite it all quite attractive. Candress wasn’t sure which, if any, would merit an invitation into the retinue. Practically any of them would likely be worth it for their sale price alone, but Candress didn’t know if she’d be served better by reaching an accord with some of the other young women, or if she should try to accommodate the older man leering at her. Then again, she was fairly likely to end up burning any bridges this misunderstanding had formed in a few moments, so it might all be a moot point.

“Babe, looks like things are about to wrap up,” the blonde woman who smelled of oil said, directing Skidmark away from Candress.

The blonde met Candress’s eyes, and there was a territorial threat in her gaze. The thin smile Candress replied with was, perhaps, not the correct reaction. Taking a few steps away from Skidmark did far more to mollify her.

Then, quite suddenly, every single member of the Merchants inner circle fell to the ground, convulsing. Candress wasted precious seconds looking around, wondering if there was some kind of weapon being deployed, before darting forward and snatching the metal case.

She remembered the rules Gil had explained, and scanned the crowd for Keilnei. If the fool woman saw the opportunity and finished the mission while they had a chance, all would be forgiven. Keilnei waved her hands frantically in the direction of the stage, but a sea of transients stood between them.

Candress didn’t seriously consider making a run for it. She had minimal difficulty managing the danger of being a guest. She suspected that the role of thief would be fatal.

“The fuck are you doing?” Skidmark said, staggering to his feet.

“Just making sure nobody took it.” Candress replied.

He must have believed her, at least enough to not decide she needed to be punished. He did look at her thoughtfully, but he had another crisis to manage.

A young man had started generating uncontrolled explosions in the middle of the arena, and even Skidmark saw that as a valid reason to bring the day’s festivities to a close.

“Looks like one of you piss stains just earned your stripes!” Skidmark yelled, “There’s five of you asswipes left. That’s good enough for me. Now wait your turn and you’ll get your prizes.”