Time to Train

The petite blonde looked between the two strangers with growing worry. “W-What?”

“Yeah, what’re you, crazy? If he’s really in their dungeon for whatever reason... I’m sorry, but he’s done.” The drop in Tricia’s expression was enough to send Travolta stuttering, “I-I mean, I really wish we could help: we definitely bit off more than we could chew back with those smugglers, and it was mostly thanks to you and that guy that we got out without dying...” Travolta's fist clenched without his willing it. After everything I did to get stronger... “... but these aren’t some strong-arm smugglers. We’re talking about the Order: I hate to admit it, but they’re probably too big to even care about us... at least unless we do something stupid enough to get their attention.”

“B-But helping us doesn’t need to come back to your organization,” Tricia offered.

“Can you guarantee that, without any chance that it might?” Of course Tricia couldn’t; no one in the Abyss could. “The moment they catch a whiff, they might come down on us with everything they've got. The Order likes to do that: stomp down and stomp hard so nothing's left. I can’t risk everyone’s lives on that; none of us can."

“You’re also-” Jimmy cut himself off, and the myriad of heads turned to the mechanic as he tried to look busy with the helmet of the machine before him. Realizing the silent glares, Jimmy continued, “I mean... back to if you really thought we could do it: you’re also not accounting for the support they get from others. Plenty of groups have standing contracts with the Order just to keep the peace, but other groups or individuals sign up that are way more happy to help. Who even knows what you... or we would face.”

Fairy didn’t care for the direction of the conversation. “Where’s Rave? Or Jane, or whatever you want to call her; I bet she’d help.”

Travolta didn't bat an eye; it was clear the fairy's master already knew Jane's secret identity, somehow. “She’s at school...” Man, I hope she is... fuck, what if this is a really long con to get her isolated- Sparing no doubts for his paranoia, Travolta opened his phone and began texting rapidly.

In his sudden silence, Tricia took the chance to give the machine on the table a scan. The designs she could scan without the aid of her drones were simple, but she suspected far more was at work beneath its plain metal surfaces and civilian gears. A soft beep in her mind confirmed the presence of multiple enchantments among the strewn pieces. “Then... who do you work for?”

Jimmy perked up, but hesitated.

“The Fateweavers,” Fairy scoffed.

Travolta’s grip on his phone tightened worryingly. This little demon knows way, way too much about us...!

"The Fateweavers? When last I was briefed, they were said to hold a consolidated treaty with the Order to never directly interfere with the Order's business... whether to help or hinder. Their technology and ways are closed even to the Gorbachevs by proxy, now... though thankfully not until after we had already learned as much as we have.” Tricia recalled the barrier-in-barrier trap deployed on Yarrick; she had suspected Fateweaver technology, but now she had proof.

"Heh, I don't know much about our history with the Gorbachevs... but I know it had to be at least a century ago. The stuff we've developed since then would blow your mind."

Tricia didn't doubt it. “I know they can’t help us, but... would you?”

“No way, I’m on strict orders to respect the Order but also to not sell or offer them any aid. Complete neutrality; we’re basically Switzerland.”

Tricia raised an eyebrow. “The Fateweavers manipulate space and barriers in barely fathomable, and strictly hoarded, ways... or by terrible secrets even we cannot replicate by discovery.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Been to Switzerland lately?”

A string of middle finger emojis popped up on Travolta’s phone to answer his worrisome text. “At least she’s safe,” he muttered. Satisfied, he met the myriad of eyes upon him. “Look: it sounds like the Order isn’t even really after you yet... and I know it must be hard, but... you have to be realistic here: you can’t punch your way through the Order.”

Somewhere in Kolkata, a mangy wooden door swung open.

“There must be various scenarios that we could execute which do not involve-”

“Have we the layout of this hold?” Alysha’s translated voice was an unexpected interruption; her presence was so muted that Tricia was startled into silence. “Do we know their numbers? Weapons? Enchantments? Traps? Do we know where he is, or his mother, or even that sordid pet of his?”

Tricia’s Eye cycled. “I-I...”

“I won’t pretend to know what they are, but this ‘Order’ sounds strong... maybe too strong,” Kazex posited. “I don’t want to vanish if I’m relying on that lazy student... but you all make this sound suicidal, and I’m far too young and virile to die violently!”

Amid a myriad of empty corporate office rental units in Glasgow, one door was eased ajar by nothing.

“Fuck off, both of you!” Fairy snapped. “We’re not leaving him to die! Or have you forgotten what’ll happen to us if he kicks the bucket?”

“Can’t be worse than what’ll happen to you if you’re caught,” Travolta muttered. A tense silence overcame them, interrupted only by the pleasant beep of an original Ms. Pac-Man cabinet.

“This can’t be where... w-where it ends...” Tricia stared at the floor; the emotion warnings blared in her suit, but their automatic suppression had long since been disabled. Her Eye blinked and blinked again under the illusory skin of her forehead. “John needs m... us. I... I will not give him up just because we have to save him alone."

“We won’t; none of us will! But we've... fucking-” Fairy chided the girl before flying up to be at eye level with Travolta. “I thought your whole Collide thing was pushing yourself, discovering new powers, having a good time. Isn’t it? Where’s the spine to prop that all up?”

Travolta was growing tired of the shapely gnat the Gorbachev simply called “Fairy.”

An elevator is out of order at the Empire State Building; nonetheless, the elevator doors slid apart.

“If you still think this could work, you’re so out of your league that you can’t even see it,” Travolta hissed, “and unless you’ve got one Hell of a heavy hitter that isn’t one of you weirdos, then it’s just fucking impossib-”

The bell of a front door rang; the arcade had no such bell.

The left door of the entrance suddenly came flying open. Night had overcome the daylight of the noon sun, and with that night came a blast of uncomfortably warm air that carried into the arcade the scents of spices and foreign soils. The only break in the turbulent wind was a thin suit, a ziggurat of a top hat, and an earnest smile that none could see as it waltzed in on that earthen breath. The door slowly retracted behind his entrance; through the gap, and through his wincing, grit-stung eyes, Travolta caught sight of a sea of clay rooftops and colored canopies of a bazaar far removed from Springfield.

The stranger walked gracefully past the swinging door, as it drifted to a close. Alarmed, Travolta put his hands up, ready to deck the thin gentleman who hid his face behind what looked like a dinosaur skull converted into a parody of a plague doctor mask: the jaw jutted out to wherever the man faced, and its teeth sported a gap barely a centimeter wide. The eye sockets had silver-lined, tinted lenses bolted onto the bone. The man tapped the floor with a wooden cane; Travolta couldn't remember if he was holding it a moment ago.

Jimmy, shocked by the sight outside, was the first to realize the implication. He thought to rip himself from his chair, to go and hold the door open, to witness something incredible- but that was not Jimmy, and so he watched, heartbroken, as it slammed back into its half of the door frame to close.

The elevator doors snapped shut. The office door sealed itself as a janitor neared. Only a stray cat witnessed the door in Kolkata suddenly slamming into its frame.

The door bounced once from the ****... and in the gap, Travolta and Jimmy both saw the sunny green plains of the arcade’s barrier wave back at them on a soft, simulated breeze. The door closed with finality... but in its wake, Jimmy had confirmed the identity of the lanky old creature who now stood in their midsts. He stammered as he pointed to the door with a shaking hand. “M... M.... M...!”

The older gentleman stopped just off from Tricia and Travolta, his profile a graceful silhouette of refinement and long, white hair. He removed his hat to reveal the full locks of gray upon his head. With a slap, the dust and sand came off the gorgeous top hat in a single puff to leave it gleaming and untouched by time. By some unseen ****, his black tuxedo, puritan white gloves, and bellowing green bow-tie were all similarly brushed clean, leaving him a refined and sharp guest in an arcade that felt shabbier with his arrival.

The older man's head turned, caught Jimmy in one of the massive, blacked-out lenses of the mask, and announced in a voice made tinny by some unseen mechanism, “By the Gods, man, it is only a door... no different than any other door. Now stop pointing, won’t you?”

The bizarre guest's nature didn't make Travolta forget that they had been invaded yet again. “How the Hell did you get here, then?”

The man replaced his hat and clicked his cane once upon the ground. “Why... I used the front door.”

“M... M-MAGUS,” Jimmy finally managed, “MAGOI MAGUS!” Travolta's mouth snapped shut as he heard Jimmy.

“And you,” Magoi declared with a snap of his gaze, “are Jim Johnson, a/k/a Jimmy, a/k/a one of our freshest apprentice program candidates! But a gentleman introduces himself.” The elder flourished his cane while Travolta balled up his fists. The monsters present looked between the confused lot of mages with frustration. Tricia simply stared, star-struck, by a man she knew only by records, by reputation, and by legend. “I am Magoi Magus, first of his name, a/k/a High Fateweaver 7, a/k/a an old friend of someone who... made their best efforts to appear to be here where they clearly are not." His high and boisterous voice slowly softened as he looked about in sheathed disappointment. The cane in his grip, a woven mesh of different woods topped by a golden handle, suddenly made a full circle as he waved it before him. "Aaaah... But I suppose it wasn't she who would need help, hmm?"

"The High Fateweaver," Tricia whispered almost breathlessly, "the bearer of some centuries of dimensional knowledge, the man who drafted the Tri-fold Truce, who re-discovered the permanent barrier of Labyrinth-"

"Kingdom of Labyrinth," he neatly corrected, "but please, no more of my titles or deeds... I came upon the summons of a wish of a thought of a mind of an idol of a woman I'd not heard from since those heady, halcyon days of competing with those damned Ottomans... but alas, that which summoned me here is not itself here."

The monsters continued to look vaguely unimpressed. Greenpaw found himself growing bitter as he watched Tricia fawn over this gray stranger. "He doesn't seem all that strong," his translator rudely declared.

If Magoi Magus found the presence of elves, goblins, and rabbit-men strange, he made no indication as he tsked at that critique. "Strength is determined by the contest-" the old wizard tersely declared as he turned to leave.

"... so the wise always choose their contest most suiting," a voice answered.

The audience suddenly took to confused glances, each set of eyes more worried than the next... all except Fairy.

Fairy stood very still... and her wide eyes quietly darted to every dark corner of the arcade that now seemed alive with threats. Why her... why fucking right now and here and her?!

Magoi slowed, and then leaned back from, his last step. He didn't bother to scan the room; instead, he kept his lifeless glass gaze upon the front doors, now only six feet away. "So the wise are always the strongest..."

"No." The occupants watched as the door withdrew from the wall like a sheet pulled from a bed. The doors slowly peeled inward as a human figurine walked forward, the image of the only exit to this place now a veil over the clearly feminine form. As the last, seemingly wet corners of the door popped from the wall, the sheet took on a gorgeous white light, obscured the door... and parted to reveal the face of a stranger. The stranger spoke in a voice that was unfamiliar but menacing in its confidence, and Tricia struggled to interpret what she was seeing and hearing. Most of those present did; most couldn't be sure there was even another person there, now. "The strong are always the strongest. The Order has taught me that... and they’ve taught that to these children who need you, now. They'll teach even you, one day."

The man chuckled wryly from behind the mask. "Oh... my dear [REDACTED]." Everyone wearing a translator suddenly winced as an awful noise clicked into their heads; Tricia, Travolta, and Jimmy all winced as they tried to make out his last word.

"No names... they won't hear them, regardless... and especially not that name."

"So be it... but I should warn you: I'm a married man now. Happily so."

"The throne of Rome and all her riches still would never be enough, Magus."

"Hey..." The two strangers turned towards Travolta. He swallowed hard as he tried to unclench his fists. Calm down, man... but fuck, just standing here with these two is... something else... "Are you here to kill us... or help them?" He nodded towards Tricia's small collection of oddities.

"Neither." "The latter." A metallic scoff echoed in the arcade as Magoi looked down upon the stranger.

The stranger did not back down... and between them was shared another exchange, of ideas and information, of surprise and determination, that passed quickly, invisibly, and silently.

"Ple..." Tricia dared a step towards the absurd turn in what was to be a simple meeting. "Please... I don't understand how or why either of you came here, but... but I need whatever help I can get to save John... to save my...” Even under these dire circumstances, her face warmed to say it, “... husband."

Only now did the stranger break her gaze with Magoi... and she recoiled plainly from Tricia. "Husband?! You..." She looked Tricia up and down... and her gaze (eyeless gaze?) remained fixated on Tricia's hand. "Oh, you stupid child..."

"You need help," Magoi calmly explained as his voice crinkled with metal, "by which you mean you require aid in infiltrating the very heart of not merely any compound belonging to the Order of the Golden Rose but the seat of one of its most powerful families and present home of one of its legendary Wardens, all for the sake of saving this husband from some fate he more than likely deserves.” As stunned as Tricia was, he continued, “You would ask me--me! The illustrious Magoi Magus!--to violate the contracts of neutrality that keep me bound to not interfere directly with such affairs, breaking oaths older than most of those in this room and at the cost of hundreds of years of peace, all for this sake... and, if I've the right of it..." His cane spun once in his hand... and this time Tricia caught sight of a brief pulse in the air that suggested some near-invisible sorcery. "... to also save his mother and some kind of... pet of his."

Tricia stared blankly at the High Fateweaver. Why didn’t my sensors pick up the magic he just... No, how is he learning all this...?

"Well? Do I have the right of it?"

A certain menace took flight, hovering three feet from from the floor to rise to the tall gentleman’s level. "Yeah," Fairy suddenly declared, "and I'm willing to bet that you're willing to help... for a price."

"A gentleman's word is not for sale," he sternly declared, "... but a gentleman's technical terms and conditions may be subject to equitable interpretation in the common law court of chancery known as 'what are you offering?'"

Fairy smirked. "Cash.”

“Cash in twelve digits?”

Fairy flinched. The other humans gawked at the tuxedoed gentleman. Travolta interrupted with a simple question, “Hundreds of billions of what?”

“Dollars, my boy... relatively speaking,” the Magus replied.

Fairy spat on the arcade floor.

“Pray tell that's not your answer."

Fairy contemplated her options. She knew damn well John didn’t have that amount, in cash or soul gems equivalent... but he did have loot, and loot that few humans could ever harvest. She thought back to the reason they even came here... and grinned as she found her way out of it. “Perhaps we can offer cash... and plenty of it, once we get access to the Abyssal Auction.”

The High Fateweaver chuckled dryly through the sharp teeth of his mask. “I doubt you’re a member... perhaps I might peruse what you think would sell there? I am licensed to-”

“You? An interested party?” Fairy openly mocked, shocking Jimmy’s fanboy sensibilities. “No no, we’ll use another member of the Auction... and if you’d like to bid on the items, all the better.”

Travolta’s expression darkened.

Fairy shot the tanktop-wearing man a mischievous wink. “And I know just the neutral party who has access to it and can be trusted to sell on Master’s behalf. Someone with a reason to not betray an Abyssal Auction transaction, too.”

“You’re not going to involve him,” Travolta declared, avoiding so much as naming the man he owed so much.

Fairy shrugged. “Wasn’t planning on it... Rave should do just fine.”

Travolta’s teeth clenched audibly.

Magoi cocked his head slightly. “Rave...?”

“She lives here, but she’s in school at the moment... or skipping it, just not skipping it to be here. Once she gets here-”

“I’ll not spend my time waiting on an errant student,” Magoi chided.

“Ugh- hey, Baldy!”

"Travolta," he snapped.

"Whatever. Tell Rave to get over here, like right now!"

"Like Hell! If you keep trying to involve her-”

"Through what door..." Jimmy mumbled.

The stranger clutched the door-robes to her.

Magoi chuckled. “You misunderstand me. But to be clear: is this your offer? Because I think there is a more... mutual arrangement here.” All were silent as they hung on his pause. He glanced to the stranger... and there was no one there, save a plain set of wooden double doors. The rest looked at him curiously; they had all already forgotten the woman’s presence or the brief absence of the two doors he now eyed. Such a treasure and a burden you’ve found for me, “Mrs. Wentworth.” But oh, to be owed even a minor favor by the likes of you...

“Well?” Fairy impatiently declared.

“Right. You require aid. You are too weak to save this man... and a fair number of you are minions in his employ. I can sense it upon you... and I can sense some of the significance of that mark of his.” Tricia raised an eyebrow... but Fairy had suddenly become very tense. “I won’t explore it now... but I suspect his powers are expressed through you, as well... and so you all,” he declared with a wave of his cane, “can cause some of the illusory monsters to convert into tangible, saleable goods.”

Fairy's cocksure attitude faltered... and something darker appeared there behind her eyes. “How...?” Magoi fixed his gaze on the dangerous expression of the child-sized demon. “How do you know... this much about him?”

“I keep good company, when the company wants,” he said with an unseen wink. Fairy glanced briefly towards the door but returned to Magoi almost too hastily. Does she somehow remember Victoria being here...? No, no, the old girl would never be so messy.

“Get on with it," the demon finally grumbled.

“I've been advised that this John is possessed of an absurd growth. I know he has the ability to share this growth, though that’s a new one- ah, but most importantly for us: you, as his summons—an art I thought nearly dead on Earth—carry his unusual effect on blended space- ah, my apologies: illusion barriers... and illusion barrier monsters. So I offer this exchange: an upfront payment now, and you all work off the rest of the cost of this service by using the service: training and growing stronger by defeating various monsters and horrors until you can save this husband of hers,” he declared with a point of his cane at Tricia. “All generated goods, however rare, will go to the auction... but all proceeds shall be mine until the debt is paid.”

“Training? Defeating monsters- we don't have the luxury of time," Tricia urged, "John is in their dungeon-!”

The High Fateweaver chuckled... and then laughed... and then the laugh became a bellowing howl as the raptor skull of his mask began to hinge its jaw to give a hideous form to the cackle that poured from the man’s guts as he took in the blonde girl’s plight. “HA HA HA- hahaaaa... luxury! Time is precisely half the sort of luxury I'm well-acquainted with, young Gorbachev. Suffice it to say that I will ensure that you are all armed and ready for the task ahead of you... and I can all but promise we've the time I'm contemplating. The Order is many things, but, if they've kept him at all, then they'll keep him for plenty of days before giving him up to one of the Order's prisons or mass-graves." Tricia's expression did not relax, and Magoi tipped his hat to her. "My apologies. The point I'm making is that you will move long before then once you're ready... and I shall not release you until you are. "

It was hard not to hear a threat, there. The translators on the monster brows didn’t help, and each took it in their own, uneasy way.

“How much?” Fairy finally asked.

Magoi squeezed the head of his cane as he looked up to contemplate the numbers. “Yes... a severe discount, for interesting circumstances, and the implorings of love... yes. Ten billion U.S. dollars to start, and one hundred billion U.S. dollars in training debt, should do.” The human faces in the room slowly fell-

"Ten million." The teeth of Magoi's mask parted by another centimeter as if in shock; the snout of ivory slowly pointed at a greater fae demonica, a rare sampling of the Abyss... who was here, wearing handmade leathers, no less. Fairy spat again on the arcade floor, earning a deeper grimace from Travolta. "We'll pay you ten million up front, and earn ninety million for you while training.”

"There is no haggling this...!” A pause. “Ten billion up front, and eighty more to be earned."

The spirit of negotiations began to take hold... and Fairy found herself in one of her favorite elements. "Fifty million, and earning a billion, you overgrown skull-fuck!”

Magoi winced, astonished... for all of a second. "Two-point-five billion up front with seventy billion to earn; that and I won’t put you in your place, hellspawn.”

"Eighty/two-hundred! We won’t earn that much unless we put Eye-Fucker here out to walk the streets!” Tricia stared at Fairy, her jaw going slack as the bizarre duel continued.

"Two billion/fifty billion! You would take the morsels from my family’s starving mouths at such a discount, you heartless shrew!”

"You'll only feed yourself, ass-maggot! I’m staying eighty million, enough to buy all the diners in the state, and four-hundred million to earn!”

"Bullshit, I'm a supportive family man, and diners are hardly a wise investment; one-point-seventy-five billion and twenty to earn!”

"Eighty million, you skull-fucking degenerate, and you get it in soul gems!"

Magoi paused at that and did a spot of quick math in his head... “That’s... 10,000 soul gems! You don’t have even two!”

"We do, and we can afford it!"

Magoi stroked his chin. I wonder if New Rome still has that fine casino... with ten thousand soul gems I could... oh, but let’s see her produce them, first! “Fine... but the debt remains fifty billion.”

“One!”

“Fifty!”

“Two!”

“Forty!”

The minions and Travolta all ping-ponged between the two shouting lunatics. Travolta shook his head, still unable to process the numbers. Jimmy's hands shook, still unable to process such vulgar speech and bartering taking place between his professional idol and some kind of flying fairy stripper.

“Twenty,” Magoi finally bellowed, shaking the arcade cabinets behind Fairy, “and not a penny less, lest you truly doom yourself to die there!”

Fairy’s mouth opened to shout a new figure... and paused.... and slowly closed before she whispered, “Then we have a deal?”

The room exhaled in relief... and then, for the humans who understood what twenty billion dollars was, inhaled right back into panic.

“I suppose we might,” Magoi cautiously offered. Of course, anything beyond a penny is gratuity unless Victoria has lost all respect for favors...

“You can promise us you’ll save John?” Fairy cautiously asked.

“Of course not... but I can promise to ready your lot to save him yourselves. Whether or not you succeed is up to... her, mostly,” he suddenly declared, his right goggle swerving to spot Tricia. "But ah! There is that one missing component.”

The archmage hummed as his cane spun in a full circle... and still the air rippled slightly with its passing. Let's see... yes, not too many visitors to this place... this girl, then? Then in the old girl's Academy... yes... yes, I can accommodate that... ugh, what a bother to go looking about... Magoi tapped the floor once... and held the cane aloft as he remained still.

UNKNOWN SPATIAL MAGIC DETECTED. UNABLE TO IDENTIFY. ESTIMATED CLASS: NU TO OMEGA. EMERGENCY ESCAPE STRONGLY RECOMMENDED. UNKNOWN TEMPORAL MAGIC DETECTED. UNABLE TO- WARNINGS MUTED.

Tricia had grown tense enough without the warning blaring in her head.

Travolta had noticed it too... and was far less willing to wait and see. "Stop that," he commanded.

"I surely don't intend to do this forever," Magoi chided. "I just need to see... ah, yes! I’ve found her." The High Fateweaver tapped his cane twice on the floor... and caused something to shift.

Jimmy looked around, his eyes wide as if he were a child in a candy store. The rest felt their stomachs lurch as if the whole world had suddenly and violently shaken. Travolta looked about in a panic as his blood boiled. "What did you just d- Jimmy, what did he do?!"

"W... Wow..." The rest of those present looked around at the seemingly unchanged arcade as Jimmy tried to figure things out. "W-Well... sustained dimensional folding is already a... a very difficult art to master, and... and doing it from a barrier is mostly impossible, but the inventor of that 'mostly' happens to be--with all due respect, High Fateweaver Magus--" The charmed sorcerer forgave his subordinate with a casual wave."--standing right ther-"

A flush. Jimmy paused his rant. Travolta slowly turned to the arcade bathroom... where no one had gone and no one should've been. "What... so what did he-"

The regular door opened... and the sound of some other pair of stall door hinges could be heard, but not seen, as a bathroom stall from Ashford Academy was revealed from behind that swinging door in the arcade. Rave, still in school uniform and her plain hair color, checked her phone with a wrinkled brow as she walked out of the stall... and slowed her steps only when she noticed the familiar, half-faded graffiti on the concrete floor. "What the fu-" She looked up to see the old arcade... and Travolta and Jimmy in what should've been the ladies' restroom on the third floor of the Academy, along with a whole host of creatures, weirdos, and zero front doors where front doors ought to have been. She turned to look back, but the door had already swung closed by some unseen, violent ****.

The almost nauseated bend in reality vanished. Magoi sighed with a bit of relief... but diverted his enhanced vision away from the glittering soul that now walked among them. Then this “Rave” is... well. This visit becomes more interesting by the moment...

"I- you were-" She pointed at Travolta. "This is-" She pointed to the door. "I mean-" Baffled, she walked back to the bathroom door and opened it... revealing the single ill-lit facility with one toilet and sink that belonged in the Arcade. "How did I... get... who are... fucking- what?!"

"I’m told you’re a trustworthy middlewoman for the Abyssal Auction,” Magoi announced, "and might offer your service to this odd bunch to facilitate my monetary acquisitions as required to-"

"Who the fuck are you?!" Rave finally managed.

"R-eh, Jane, this is High Fateweaver Magoi Magus... the High Fateweaver Magoi Magus!" Rave stared blankly at Jimmy. "I... I told you about him a few days ago...?"

"Wasn't that a Warhammer hero or something-?"

"We don't only talk about 40k, Jane!"

"I didn't say you did," Rave spat back, "just sounded like... y'know, a whole bunch of fucking hyperbole."

"You play 40k?" Jimmy looked up to his Fateweaver hero as the latter spoke those words... and the poor mechanic's heart felt like it might burst.

"Y... You know about 40k-?"

"Let it be known," Magoi Magus declared, his voice grim and dark, putting Travolta on edge as he readied for an attack, "that the planet broke..." Jimmy's eyes turned to saucers of boyish wonder- "... before the Guard did."

Only a few present had any idea what that meant... and one of those nearly wet himself with delight.

"But! We were talking business—Jane, Rave, or whatever you prefer to be called—and I’m a very busy man, even now on vacation.”

"... Well, fuck." Rave clicked her tongue, and her hair suddenly exploded into pink. "We'll cover the 'how' and 'when' later: why are we talking business?"

Magoi looked to Tricia and motioned to her with his long, gloved fingers. "Perhaps a familiar face would be best to recite the facts."

15 minutes later...

"... so let me make sure I got this: all these reject extras from a bad episode of Adolescent Newtype Assassin Lizards are summons for John, the new mage at school. He's gone around marrying people, including Moi-Moi, Creepy-Eyes here, and even this preggers elf- wait, shit, is it his?!"

"... I may have overindulged your curiosity," Tricia sighed.

Rave shrugged. "I just mean, holy shit... the Gamer gets going, huh?"

Magoi tapped his mask in contemplation. "Wait... is that not a joke? Is this elf truly with... a human's child?"

Alysha grit her teeth as she looked to the floor she wished to fall into.

Oh... well, if the Order doesn't already know about this, then they'll be doubly murderous when they do... and yet even more opportunities here...

"Right... anyways," Rave continued, "so Moi-Moi and all those Golden Fucks turned on the Gamer even after he helped save her, shackled and locked him up to the point that even he can't get away, and now you want to get together some kind of comic book supergroup to go rescue him? I mean, I've got tons of questions, but... how do you even know he's alive?"

"Because we still exist," Fairy flatly replied. The monsters grumbled as one at that.

"Okay... so you want to launch this rescue mission, but you're smart enough to know we'd get curbstomped trying to go in now... so we need to get strong... and High Fateweaver is going to help us get strong to do it with what sounds like a Hyperbolic Time Chamber-”

“The Room of Spirit and Time.” Rave stared, baffled, as the High Fateweaver pretended to not correct her. “In any case, it will not be so... drastic a dilation as that fanciful cartoon.”

“Fine. Point is, we’re going to get trained, get equipped, give those Order fucks a black eye, and Collide will get to pay back a favor and a foe at the same time.”

Tricia raised an eyebrow. "When you say 'we,' do you mean-"

Rave nodded. "Oh, there is just no fucking way I'm not in on this. I'm in on this, right?"

"Rave-" Travolta started.

"So are you, Baldy." Fairy stuck her tongue out smugly at Travolta as he tried to ignore the little devil. Rave was already tossing her school jacket onto an arcade machine as she readied for some unknown scrap, her eyes growing wild and excited as she stretched. "Collide has to get in on this deal-"

"I-I can't go," Jimmy started, "the treaty-"

"Fine, stay here and watch re-runs of Helium Exodus Presbytelion. We're still going to kick some Order ass!"

"I will accept this modification to our deal at no additional cost," Magoi plainly announced. All the better. I will be curious to see such a soul at work...

"Rave," Travolta urged, "we do not want to kick that beehive!"

Rave grinned. "It was going to fall on our heads sooner or later. Why not get the first hit in? Maybe we'll even punt it into a lake."

Travolta looked between the two in frustrated silence... but the thought of training, of becoming strong enough even to take on the Order, was appealing enough to silence his dissent. “But if this doesn’t work... or if they're too strong... we bail.”

“You are free to do so,” Tricia interjected. Unspoken was what they all heard: Tricia was not, in her mind, free to do the same.

"Well fuck that," Rave said as she hiked up her skirt, "I mean I'm not suicidal here... but if we can get portal boy out, then we can take the show on the road as we need to... right? I mean, he wouldn't leave us high and dry if we actually rescue him, right?"

"Absolutely not," Tricia swore. Fairy saw no reason to plant any doubt there.

"Right. So with that all figured out... oh shit, right, what am I buying or selling?" Rave finally asked. "You all opened with this being an Auction transaction... and there's only one reason you'd ask me to do it."

"We will sell what we acquire," Tricia replied, “as our training will evidently involve such creatures that would effect repayment of an... impressive sum. So long as John's summons are involved, the effect will theoretically be the same as if he were present: as the monsters are killed, valuable or useful parts of their bodies will drop, along with cash and other curiosities. I've personally witnessed full golden bars manifest, for example.”

Rave whistled, impressed. "Nice, nice... though not exactly going to sell for much on the Abyss."

"At the purity levels they featured..."

The rest of Tricia's brief explanation was lost to Fairy... as another voice was heard. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest; her breath caught in her lungs.

<Fairy, hear my call... speak to me...>

Rave looked about the room, ready to ask what else they could generate... when she paused on Fairy. "Hey... is... is the punk fairy supposed to cry like that?"

Fairy blinked at Rave and only now realized she had been struck silent in mind and voice. Warm paths cut down her pale cheeks. Furious, the fey spun around, rubbing her face as she stuttered, "N-No, I'm not-!" Her hands remained on her face; she rubbed the near-acidic tears into her cheeks until they dissolved. Her thoughts were guarded from her Master's mind as she spat them inside. You stupid idiot... what if we lost it all...? What if they killed you in that stupid, pitiful... You stupid jerk... stupid flaccid piece of... I could kill you myself, you insensitive cockbag...! I... what if I lost you...?

Most watched Fairy as she floated away, her back turned on them as they continued to hash out the details of what was to come. Tricia had been more curious about the sudden display, given what she had heard and seen of the creature... but saving John was the priority, and so she returned to the conversation.

Fairy inhaled deeply before composing her mind... and shouting back, Baal's balls, is your timing terrible at all times except now! Master, you've made my fucking day!

<What hap->

Can I borrow 10,000 soul gems?

A pause.

A long pause.

<... Borrow?>

Yeah... you know, forever- look I gotta pay a guy, and we're running out of time.

A period of silence as John more spoke his reaction than thought it, but he returned quickly enough. <I've got lots of questions, but we're going to focus on the one that's the most important: is everyone else OK?>

Fairy slowly lowered to the ground as she contemplated how to tell him. Tricia is fine. She's here, and we're working on freeing you-

<Stop it. Don't come to save me; it's too dangerous here->

And to save your mother and Lily, you dolt!

<... W-What?>

It took moments to explain it... and a fair minute for John to calm down. When at last he seemed receptive, Fairy continued, So now we're going to train with Collide. Apparently there's enough of you in us, she transmitted with her best fake disgust, that we'll be able to generate loot to pay this High Fateweaver back for the service. I'm not sure how much stronger these humans can get, even with this, however...

<Well... wait. If you're able to transmit that effect, just passively, then... maybe something else can? I know I can't send anything to you or call you... but...> John paused for a moment.

Before Fairy could question it, she heard the slightest "beep" of a Gamer window popping into existence... and slowly turned with wide eyes.

John Newman has invited you to a party. Join? Y/N

John Newman has invited you to a party. Join? Y/N

John Newman has invited you to a party. Join? Y/N

Tricia, Rave, and Travolta all stared at bizarre, blue-hued holograms that suddenly popped into existence. Knowing full well what it meant, Tricia eagerly pressed the Y. Rave, noting Tricia's choice, copied it. Travolta looked at the girls, confused. "What the Hell is this?"

"He's the Gamer, right?" Rave shrugged. "This is probably part of the whole system he's using... wait, does that mean he's..." Rave's voice trailed off as the Gorbachev quickly wiped her own tears away.

Tricia nodded with a trembling smile. "He's... alive, awake, and... I suppose well enough to have been briefed on the situation." She looked to Fairy, who was quick to look away. "There was some notable development in my brain synapses, muscle tone, and control over my... abilities after joining such a 'party' a few days ago. I hadn’t considered whether he could send these to us remotely, but so it is..."

"It's because we're here," Fairy clarified, floating back to the group, "and we're in this barrier with you... so I guess not even their fancy prison can keep him from doing this, at least." Fairy's eyes twitched as she realized something else. I wonder if this means he'll level up while we work...?

<I'm counting on it. They're draining my mana down to zero at all times... but maybe a full refill...>

Fairy narrowed her eyes at the unseen enemy. I'm going to get you out.

<Hah... you almost sound like you care.>

Fairy allowed herself a smirk as her eyes stung. Of course... I'll die if you die! Can't have your idiotic **** ruin my chance at freedom.

John tsked mentally. <Of course...>

Now tell that elf fuckboi of yours to go get our soul gems ready before these assholes start-

<Fairy.> Fairy froze. <No matter what... you're to protect them before you protect me.>

Define 'them.' But she already dreaded the answer.

<Mom, Tricia, Lily, even Rave and Travolta since they're sticking their necks out... and Kim and Galley, who you haven't met, I don't think... but they're here with me. They all got stuck in this because of me, and I-> His thoughts paused again... and a shame or anger filled Fairy's mind from his. <Whatever I end up doing with this power and new life I've got... I can't let them get hurt just because I fucked up.>

Great. So on top of everything else, I'm supposed to protect all these people-?!

<And don't kill Moira.>

What?! She put you in a fucking-

<It's complicated, I'm not saying it isn't, but... she doesn't deserve to die for any of this. Transmit all of these orders to the others. I'll have Juniluny transmit the same to everyone in the Temple->

Complicated my tits, you-! Fairy blinked as her right hand suddenly filled... and looked down at the single soul gem sitting in her tiny grip. There's...

<I told him to test it with one... it sounds like you got it.>

I... yes, yes I did. Fairy narrowed her eyes. This presented an obvious question... one that most would ask in John's position, given what he believed about his powers. She braced for it...

<Phew... don't know how that's OK, but I'm glad it is.>

She exhaled in relief. Well get ready to warn me when the other 9,999 are on their way so I can put them in a fucking bowl or something!

“Right... so... you’re turning on them, right?” Fairy blinked at the sudden question... and only calmed down when she realized it wasn't for her. Tricia stared at Rave as she thought of how to answer... and the weight of it was suddenly dire. Rave continued, “I mean, I don’t know much, but I know Gorbachevs are usually buddy-buddy with the Order, and this is us attacking them. Sure, we’re in the right to do it, but... I don’t want to find out you’ve got second thoughts when we’re already in too deep.”

Fairy spared no glance to the Gorbachev; she quietly waited for the right answer.

Tricia looked beyond Rave, contemplating her life, her adoptive father, the Opekuny... the Opekuny exiling her to all but solitude... and the same Opekuny signing her to the Order to serve at their beck and call while she struggled to prove herself. Tricia looked down at her fingers. The coloration withdrew, and her false skin of nanites blackened to their natural, carbon hue. The new allies flinched at the odd transformation but said nothing as Tricia continued to think about what her life was going to be... before John. What had this last week shown her? What did her life hide until now? Beneath the black, she knew that a ring, that binding upon her, waited as an oath she had been delighted to keep. The Opekuny was cold in its ways, but they had given her a second chance in exchange for her promise. That second chance had brought her a second promise, one of love, she was fairly certain now. Which promise was worth more?

“I...” Tricia’s fingers closed gently into a fist. The skin color returned to it as she quietly answered, “I... cannot pretend to know any approximation of the future... but if I ever return to... to my old life, then it will not be until I have explored this new one. So... I can rely, soundly, on my not having ‘second thoughts’ on any part of this operation. You should, too.”

Rave’s worried frown quickly grew into a grin. “That’s good enough for me.”

"I believe we're finally ready and sorted, then?" the old mage sighed. Every second spent in this timeflow felt wasted, now.

“Then it’s a deal,” Fairy repeated as she shot forward to hover before the mage, her tiny hand extended as she stared down the bony maw of Magoi Magus.

His gloved hand raised... and swerved towards Tricia. “As if I would deal with some lowly summon. No,” the mage mused as Fairy fumed, “the Gorbachev, agent... perhaps former agent... of the Opekuny," he continued, shocking Tricia with how blatantly he named their secret organization, "blessed daughter of Gaia... it is you with whom I shall deal. It would be your debt, after all, if you all fail to earn it before leaving to save the man.”

Tricia stared at the open palm as if it brandished a gun. “This... this debt. What properties does it have?”

Magoi cleared his throat before replying, “It shall be a Dulvanis Lien, though its name is of no import; that woman died in the worst of debts in a century that no longer exists." A set of worried looks went ignored. "You’re to make a good faith effort to repay what you owe... and the moment you hesitate in that good faith, your body shall obey me until you return to a good faith effort. It will allow that immediate return to freedom upon the renewal of good faith, of course; I’m interested in money, not **** Gorbachev teenagers. Of course, I may relieve you of this duty long enough to save this John of yours... if I think it wise. If I think it wise, then I surely shall do it; no greed of mine shall keep you from saving him, of that much I know.”

The handshake was as dangerous as she thought... but she looked about at the others, hoping someone might offer an alternative, a solution not yet seen or figured. Caution, concern, indifference, and, in Fairy’s eyes, a hope that Tricia would obey were all Tricia could find. “How... how will you know that we are ready? This is all too vague.”

"It is as precise as reality allows," the High Fateweaver whispered, "but for our mortal inability to appreciate it. Like the wagon wheel upon the road, the dirt before it could well be brown air until it is firmly pressed under its weight... but the wheel trusts the dirt all the same."

Rave leaned towards Travolta. "His metaphors kind of suck though, huh...?"

"They are poetry and genius," Jimmy hissed, uninvited.

Tricia looked to the gloved hand... and contemplated the only alternative to shaking it.

Her gloved fingers gripped his firmly.

"Fucking idiot-!" Fairy's exclamation drew surprised glances... and then more surprise as her hands appeared to be pouring tiny, purple and roughly-cut lumps of some gemstone or another. Half the room was keenly aware of their significance... and Magoi waited, patiently, as he listened to it rain... until he heard the 10,000th gemstone click onto the pile.

The High Fateweaver's cane then clicked once upon the floor.

Twice.

The cane rose for a third strike. Travolta turned, suddenly alarmed. The rest were still looking at the pile of gems with curiosity-

An echoing strike of wood on stone... and...

They were still in the Arcade... but it felt too different for anyone to think about anything else.

The lot of them looked around, looked to the cane, looked to the front door that had shuddered for a moment, and all wondered at what spell had just been done. “What-” Travolta began.

“No idea,” Jimmy quickly confessed.

Magoi raised his cane into a casual grip of its middle and, while twirling it in one hand, walking towards the conference room table. “It’s rather simple, actually: I have converted this pleasant, homely little barrier of yours into a super-time-dilated and modular battle-arena, complete with the preservation of your connection to the Abyssal Auction... ah, and expanded it tenfold while narrowing its presence on Earth a thousandfold. Can't have any visitors approaching this event horizon, after all... drastic, terrible result, that would be.”

Tricia looked to the front doors of the arcade... and the soft, blue glow that began to radiate from its edges. “That’s...” Her brow furrowed suddenly. “Terrifyingly detailed, yet vague. What is the time dilation, now?”

“Ninety.”

Tricia shook her head. “Then...”

“One day,” he tersely interrupted. “You will have twenty-four hours here... or so it will seem to the outside world. But to you all? A full ninety days shall come and go... and none shall leave until we can be sure of your fitness to complete your goals."

"Three months?! We barely have any food here-"

"Amenities for all are already provided by yours truly," the High Fateweaver explained, "as that bathroom door is no longer a bathroom, but a barracks of a sort... the sort that can accomodate all of our interesting company." The bathroom door opened as if in response... only now it revealed a decorated hallway far fancier and more well-lit than all the rest of the arcade. At a glance, Tricia could confirm a total of twelve doors ran down its length. "The clock has begun... now what will you make of it?"

Jimmy blinked, stunned... and suddenly realized his continuing presence. "H-H-High Fateweaver, I'm sorry, I didn't know it would be here, I didn't mean to interfere-"

"You too shall be training and under my passive tutelage whenever I'm not attending business," Magoi explained, "but you remain barred from ultimately aiding them directly in their endeavor when the time comes. I hope this arrangement is not upsetting, Mr. Johnson?" Jimmy was struck dumb by the offer. Magoi nodded, satisfied.

Tricia, Rave, Travolta, Fairy, Alysha, Kazex, and Greenpaw. This was meant to be the team that would somehow save John Newman from the clutches of the Order of the Golden Rose... and right out from under Moira Brighton, a Warden. The task had always been real to Tricia, but now it was tangible, measurable, and executing... and every minute of silence between them was now less than a second wasted, but it was wasted all the same.

"Alright," Tricia declared as a determined furrow of her brow signaled that she was ready.

"Let's do it," Rave joined.

"This is fucking crazy." It was as close to a call to action as Travolta could manage.