John takes a consolation prize.

The twisting, haggard pangs on Daedro’s face, followed swiftly by his wriggling body being flown upwards, was not an image that quickly fled John’s mind; it was perhaps the cruelest thing he had done since arriving, short of what he attempted to do to Zalla… or what he did to her and the Warden, depending on how they viewed the Gamer’s Brand. John thought back to the words of the Commandment that was now keeping the Purifier out of the Plate’s airspace. I guess “express will” doesn’t mean just what the Peak would like. This was a new weapon for him to use… one that might make short work of just about any malcontent he dealt with from now on.

As long as he was fine with what Violet did to people, at least. He glanced at the notification log.

Daedro the Faultless has been lightly poisoned with Violet!
Daedro the Faultless takes 12 endurance damage.
Daedro the Faultless takes 6 endurance damage.
Daedro the Faultless takes 5 endurance damage.
Daedro the Faultless takes 5 endurance damage.

The messages continued until the Purifier was out of sight; the helmet apparatus had cut the damage in half, but the exposure persisted in weakening the Purifier until John was left uncertain that “Daedro” would survive his time out there.

For everyone else’s sake, John hoped he didn’t. Nothing in that encounter explained the damage Daedro had already suffered, but John had more pressing concerns now: the incoming elites and the manifold waves of Lawmen coming to snuff out his minions. “Ignore the vault for now; just let me know when we’ve taken everything of value from here.”

“You... monster,” the Warden choked.

John raised an eyebrow at that. “You might be dead if I let him fight here.”

“That was Violet! You threw him into the Violet-!”

“Don’t you?”

“W-What?”

John was suddenly on the Warden, his hand gripping her right shoulder with almost too much ****. “You kill people in the streets when you don’t throw them off the Plate-”

“Only criminals who do not rehabilitate-!”

“-so don’t talk to me about monsters.”

It was an unclear order, but the Warden hesitated to answer more out of fear than command... right up until her Master vanished with a jump. She exhaled slowly as she gave up on rationalizing John’s fruitless position; in the end, it didn’t matter. Could she even be a Warden again if she were freed from this condition? Was her entire life now lost to her? In any case, she had her orders; dutifully, she was made to carry them out. A nervous Woofroot lightly licked her leg in pity before continuing to help the Warden as best he could.

At the other end of the hall, Juniluny just watched the exchange in tight-lipped silence before continuing to contemplate solutions for the vault.

Three Braves and a Keeper, fresh from the Second Station, rushed towards the explosion only to find no remains of the attacker. The ashen bok of the top two stories had disintegrated into the floor below, creating a risk of further collapse as rubble and blackened dust piled high. The Keeper reported this finding to the Braves still managing the network in the Warden’s absence, and the group was ready to move on to fight the tentacled beast that had single-handedly killed so many of their brethren-

[MM = https://youtu.be/bWXazVhlyxQ]

ROUND TWO!

A whirlwind of burning light, of flesh torn away faster than nerves could feel, of the Dream upon her brow being snuffed out with violent ****, of the music and the light and all the world vanishing in an instant... and then, the taste of ash.

Miles groaned as she slowly lifted herself from the burnt bok dust that had half-buried her... or at the very least, that's what seemed to happen to her. To the Lawmen observing her, they could only have sworn that she was not there a moment ago... and, as if by magic, had manifested suddenly. But this difference in opinion would not be exchanged... because, for Miles, all that had come to pass was that the Purifier had escaped her vengeance yet again, even after she had successfully silenced him... even after she got to fight him in earnest. Her burning anger was directed at the first enemies she could find... and so she found the Keeper and her escort.

Yet more killers, killing in the name of their Peak.

The world glowed again, and the music swelled as she launched herself in a whirlwind of lifted debris and cinders at the enemy. Her charge was deflected by a crushing blow against her head, but she let the Keeper's blow spin her body as she lashed up with her leg and brought it down in an arc upon her pointed helm. The "A" shape of the Keeper's helm morphed into a soft "U" before Miles used the stunned Keeper to launch herself high into the air and back towards the First Station. It was about now that Miles realized that her clothing had been disintegrated in the explosion; her cock and other soft bits were now free to taste the air rushing by, but she had no time to worry about decency: if the Purifier was still at large, then he was probably heading to face John beneath the building, and there was no telling-

As if to answer, John suddenly appeared upon the uncollapsed portion of the building... unharmed, but also alone. Miles’ arc continued towards him as the Braves tried to get the ruined helmet off their Keeper. John, as if in response, suddenly jolted his arms to and fro before him in movements so fast that Miles was sure his hands were vanishing. By the time she landed, the four nearby had all been finished off, their slack bodies being slowly let down towards the ground for recovery. "Where'd he go? Did you fight him?!"

"Who, the Purifier?" John asked, playing as dumb as he could. "I threw him off the Plate."

"You...” Miles’ anger slowly gave way… “… you threw him… off?”

“If he's going to be a problem anymore, it won't be today." John surveyed the battlefield: most of the buildings had been burned or crushed all around the First Station, and the station itself was now beginning to crumble thanks to whatever exploded inside of it earlier.

“Into… the Violet?” The colors around Miles shifted as she stared, wide-eyed, at the human wonder-boy. “You threw him into that hell… that poison, that horrific ****…?”

John grimaced as he picked the biggest threats out of the sky. “If everyone is going to judge me for doing that in the middle of this insane war-”

[MM = https://youtu.be/emEg0zGS7KY]

John’s eyes fell on Miles… and then specifically her growing erection as she approached with open arms. The music had shifted to something… upbeat? Feminine? More eager than John liked? More eager than John liked. “God,” she sighed, “you’re making me run so fucking hot right now.”

“W-What-? Miles!” John was about to demand she stop when a wing of Lawmen broke off from the attack on Tita to address the First Station invaders. "Fuck, look, now’s not the time!” There will never be a time! “We’ve got company-"

[MM = https://youtu.be/wauzrPn0cfg]

As quickly as the song and world had shifted to something lighthearted, it was returned to explosive **** and bodily colors of brownish red. Miles was already ahead of John, running a short distance before leaping on a Hammer to tear him apart by hand; John, finding their counterattacks barely budging Miles' full health bar, was grateful for an excuse to leave her to it.

Given the struggle of his summons, he continued onwards towards the Shapers. John had been prepared to find out Daedro could somehow avoid his trap, or else return through the shield with some unwritten exception... but as thoroughly removed from the field as that threat was, John suspected there were no greater threats en route... and the Shapers could safely be dispatched now before the true horde of Lawmen arrived. Golgon's support for killing the Lawmen was being proven here: John couldn't be sure how many had died, but so many still dotted the horizon that John could scarcely imagine the next and final operation carrying on through such resistance.

John was reinvigorated and his resolve hardened. To protect the ones he cared for, and free this world from its hell… he had to thin this herd. With a blink, he appeared near the first two Shapers he would kill.

Thirty minutes later...

"He says they still have the situation under control," Zalla calmly reported, "and that we're to stay clear of the 'drop zone' we've created."

The Bitter Nines hideout was now overflowing with boxes containing all manner of ****, weapons, and other expensive goods caught smuggled in one direction or the other throughout the Plate. The coffers of the First Station had indeed been emptied, as were their armories; what weapons remained unused in the First Station had been portaled into a pile near Deanna's pot, and even now she curiously leaned out of the water to pick up and examine the gold-painted clubs and the small etchings carved into them.

"I didn't ask if he was fine; I asked why he continues to operate out there," Tricia explained in a voice that trembled with her efforts to remain calm. "I asked why he doesn't simply return already." With John's eventual intervention, Zalla and her group had been portaled back safely to the hideout along with most of the Bitter Nines. Kitok the Noisy had reportedly skulked away when the fighting had started, as was her tendency per Golgon; Miles was apparently still out there cracking skulls and killing Lawmen totally in the buff. Of his summons, only Zalla had returned to the hideout; everyone else had either remained summoned, swapped out with others, or remained engaged with the enemy for most of the time that Tricia and the rest were left waiting for their safe return. Even Lily, who was normally taken by her overpowering urge to nap, was awake, alert, and worried after her (former) husband/master.

"Is he trying to kill every last Lawmen they got?" Some were less patient in their waiting than others, and Rave had been frustrated enough by the fact that they were kept from helping with the fight.

"If he can, then let him." Unfortunately, Travolta didn't share that enthusiasm; as he had to, he just wanted to make sure Jane got home safe at the end of all this. Presently he stood outside the ring of bok bricks made to outline the "drop zone" demanded by John through Zalla; it was the same area Hurk had reserved for their ill-gotten goods, though now those had been distributed into all the nooks and crannies still available in their ever-shrinking living space.

"Geez, but he could’ve made use of some of us," Galley sighed from where she sat at a bench. Even without her enchanted arm, Galley found waiting back at the base intolerable; even now she tested the weight of the Lawmen pike, eager to make herself useful for any future brawls.

The brooding mutterings in English were lost on the natives, but Hurk knew discontent when he heard it in their tones. Cautiously, he approached with a large platter full of cups of the human-created water; he flashed the biggest smile as he tried to manage, "OH. KAY?"

Collide and company blinked up at his offer until, with embarrassed smiles or grunts, each accepted one of the offered cups. They were, in fact, thirsty... and from one ordeal or another, tired. Tricia sipped her water while continuing to stare at the area where John was meant to reappear. He would be alright, right? He wouldn't...?

A tunnel suddenly opened up; a naked, bleeding Miles flew out of it and stumbled as she awkwardly fell onto her bare ass. Her blood smeared dark crimson across the ground as she rolled to a stop; her skin was paler than normal, and she trembled as she tried to get her bearings. Golgon was already upon her with a flap of his wings; she didn't even address him, or his healing runes, as she shouted, "What the fuck?! I wasn't done there!" John had not opened a portal to hear her complaint, however.

Tricia glanced at Zalla, hoping for a translation; the former Keeper just shrugged and explained, "She is unhappy to have retired from the fight so... early."

"How many dead, then?" Golgon softly asked as he worked, his gauntlet glowing gold as it sealed gashes and tears all along Miles' skin. He didn’t bother asking after John; a portal had gotten Miles here, after all, and no other Golgon knew of could perform such feats.

"Who the fuck knows? Enough that they were everywhere," she chuckled, "and enough that they'll have trouble keeping the peace for awhile."

Golgon nodded with a small smile. "Excellent. Such a message can only help our cause... and the louder it is, the greater our success."

Zalla squinted her eyes at that exchange. That was madness! How could slaughtering thousands of Lawmen, or angering the Peak, help them?! But her thoughts were interrupted by the huge portal suddenly opening high above the drop zone. From its upper depths, and with painful care, came a colossal box of blackened soot wrapped thrice over in chains.

The bulky thing had been burned on its every side except that which faced into a hallway just a few minutes ago; Zalla understood, or supposed she understood, what her slaver had intended: somehow, he had burned the vault itself free of its rocky anchorings... and that vault was now being lowered into none other than the hideout of the greatest threat to the peace.

With a gentle "boom," the vault landed; John's move spell, Durr's arms, and all the chains Fairy could summon to permit Vok and herself to lighten the load for the first two were all released as one with a satisfied sigh of relief from at least two of the working parties. The chains burst into smoke upon the vault's landing; with a blink through the portal's shortcut, John had reappeared in the hideout while quickcasting the dismissals for all his summons save two: Zalla, who remained watching with rapt interest, and Botuk who, right before the portal closed, was conveyed to John's side.

They hadn't gotten the intended metals... but with a smug look of satisfaction, John believed he had made up for it. He minimized the flurry of pop-ups that now lit up his character sheet; first, he needed to address the traitorous elephant in the room... no matter who it was.

But Golgon and his lot were more confused than cheerful. "You stole... the vault, John the Newman?" the Ootuk whispered in disbelief.

"Yeah!" John almost yelled in his wild-eyed state. The battle high he had achieved in the field had not been felt since his night of leveling up that first, now-halcyon week of the Game. "I mean, I figured we were going to have to refine that stuff anyways... and now we've got tons of material to do it. Plus..." John nodded to his right where Botuk, in her silent disdain for all those present, followed John's mental command and revealed her pelos key. "It's not the right kind," John confessed, "but it's got to help in making the one we want, right?"

Golgon stared between the stranger and his bounty... and the old man's wheels turned until he reached the conclusion that made him grin from ear to ear. "Yes... yes! This more than works! It will take time, but... yes: you've done it, John the Newman."

Hurk scratched his head; his smile was not ****--his leader had declared it a success, after all--but the vault was empty... and the precious metals were definitely not among the boxes or packages brought in before. "Then... where are the metals?"

"Removed from the vault right before our attack..." John scanned the room as he took a head count... "Kitok. Where is Kitok?"

The Bitter Nines checked the room to make sure she wasn't skulking about; she was nowhere to be found. "Not yet returned, John the Newman,” answered Golgon once he was satisfied. “Why do you ask?"

"You have-" The Cabalist identified him as being one of two spies in your home... and I would prove it to cleanse your home of the Cabal's eyes and ears. The memory of his own words... how long ago was that? Less than a week... no, barely a few days ago. But an eternity ago to John... and yet his own declaration was burned into his mind along with his folly. Had he not made any revelations, had he made no accusations, had he kept it to himself... what then? Perhaps he wouldn't have discovered the truth about the Lady’s Blessing… and then he wouldn’t have been captured, tortured, and now exiled from his very home... away from his mother, from all he knew, from all he loved.

And endangering everyone here.

All because he didn't play his cards close enough to his chest. If Kitok was the spy, then this would be a fine way to warn the rest... but if John was wrong... if one of these were truly the spy (or spies!), then... what would he be able to say to overcome their word? Few or none of them would believe John...

"We have...?"

"... so few members, that I worried. But that's not fair to her; I'm sure she is more than capable," John hesitantly continued. None of my summons will speak of the spy in the Bitter Nines until I authorize it.

Golgon nodded with his confident smile. "As you say, John the Newman."

Zalla was unsure why John was protecting whoever the real spy was… but at least this was an order she desired. Whoever the traitor was, they had to be protected! Even if Zalla and Botuk were **** to serve the terrorists, at least now the Peak had her bell around the neck of this wretched clutch of villains. <Master, I told the humans about the spy… they might warn him!> Zalla urgently declared.

And when Golgon can speak English, I'll worry about that, John shot back. Zalla sounded so eager to help, now… of course. “I need a moment to rest, collect my thoughts…” John looked over at Miles whose wounds had been mostly closed up by Golgon; the remainder of her damage slowly regenerated on its own.