Hurry Up and Wait

John had been cursed. He had to have been. It was the only reasonable explanation for the temporal anomaly currently centered on that classroom. Nothing else could possibly explain why Mrs. Flung spoke in slow motion, why a fifty minute lecture had dragged on for three hours, or why the clock ticked backwards whenever he looked away from it.

‘Gaia cursed me. I didn’t hide long enough and exposed Mom to something magical, and this is my punishment.’

In reality, John’s excited anticipation and sleep deprivation combined to warp his sense of time and assail his patience. It started subtly. The morning dragged on a touch longer. Boring classes felt a smidge duller. With each passing period the effect grew more intense, until this moment, the last few minutes of the day's last lecture. As soon as the clock struck 1:15, he’d be free.

John could hardly stand the wait. From the moment he woke up, all he could think about was implementing and iterating the plans he had made the night prior. Before he had even bathed, he had shaped, salvaged, and shaped again a load of scrap metal, grinding precious Skill XP, and diligently maintained his mana near depletion until his bus arrived.

Beyond the threshold of his front door, he didn’t so much as open his Character Sheet. He didn’t stuff something into his Inventory or sneak a peek at someone’s level with Observe. He’d learned his lesson yesterday and refused to risk discovery by mundane or Abyssal eyes. Now it felt like his overflowing mana supply might burn a hole in his head.

When the bell finally rang, John was the first from his seat, stuffing his notes into his backpack as he rushed from the classroom. Weaving through the filling halls, he made for the academy’s eastern entrance, and breaking through its doors, kicked himself into a brisk jog. Several blocks still separated him from his Abyssal rendezvous.

Ashcroft security prevented Daryl from entering its parking lot. So, the pair had arranged to meet at a nearby diner, about a mile and a half down the road, a greasy spoon from the fifties that somehow resisted the gentrification of the world around it. John had argued for a meeting point a little closer to the school, but Daryl had been adamant once he realized how close the two establishments were. From his flurry of brief texts, it seemed that he quite liked the joint, but didn’t get around to it as often as he’d like.

As he jogged, John stripped himself of extraneous pieces of his Ashcroft uniform, his tie and jacket, and haphazardly stuffed them into his backpack while waiting for a crosswalk signal to change. There was no concern for wrinkling what might have been the most expensive garments in his wardrobe. Craft’s repair function would iron that out later.

Before long, the diner came into view. A familiar white panel van, big red letters written across the side, sat in its parking lot. John pushed himself harder, rushed to the vehicle, and discovered it empty and locked. A pang of annoyance struck him. They were supposed to leave immediately.

Inside the crowded diner, John found his Abyssal contact sitting at the far end of the lunch counter, halfway through his lunch. As John crossed the room, Daryl spotted him, turned, and mumbled through a mouth full of food, “Hey, little dude, you’re early.”

“What? No, it’s already-” John whipped his phone from his pocket and discovered that he was, in fact, almost five minutes early, "oh, I guess I am. That’s… that’s weird.”

Daryl gestured at the empty stool beside him. “Take a load off. I’ll just be a minute.”

The Abyssal attacked the half-eaten sandwich with gusto, cramming gargantuan bites into his mouth. A slurry of grease, cheese, and some unidentifiable tan sludge squeezed out around the corners of his mouth and dripped into his beard.

“Uh, you got some…” John gestured to his mouth. “What is that brown stuff?”

Barely comprehensible through a mouthful of food and a cleaning, muffling napkin, Daryl replied, “Peanut butter.”

“On a cheeseburger?”

Daryl proffered his half eaten burger, “Wanna try?”

“No, thanks.”

Daryl pushed a little closer. “You don’t know what you’re missin'.”

“And I’m ok with that.”

Daryl Shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

"So, did Rooster know about that thing?"

"About the what?"

"You know." John leaned in and whispered, "The thaumic star."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"You said you talked to Rosster about it last night."

A shit eating grin stretched across the Abyssal's face. "I'm just funnin' with ya, but it'd be best if we save that topic till we're in the van."

"Fine," John replied, his tone thick with impatience.

Resigning himself to waiting in silence, he leaned against the countertop, resting his chin in his hand. Minutes stretched by slowly as Daryl picked away at his meal. John's focus began to drift. Tiredness weighed on his eyelids and pulled them down. The sharp chatter of surrounding patrons became fuzzy, distant, and began to lull him to sleep.

A female voice, clearly directed at him, landed incomprehensibly on his ear. Wrestling his eyes open a crack, he found a raven haired waitress with an orderpad in hand.

Before he could respond, Daryl waved the young woman off and said, "He doesn't need nothin'. We're actually in a bit of a time crunch. So, best be goin'." Turning to John, the Abyssal gently nudged his shoulder and asked, "Hey, you ready to go?"

"Yep, lead the way." John rubbed the sleep from his eyes, quickly stretched out his shoulders, then followed after his guide out to the van. The second the doors slammed shut, he asked, "What did Rooster say about the star?"

"He didn't say anything specific, but he does want to talk to you before you leave. My guess, he either heard back or needs more information."

"I offered to send pictures."

"You did, but you really don't want to send that kinda stuff through unsecured channels. Best case, we've gotta spend an arm and a leg to have it wiped from some server somewhere. Worst case, someone sees it and causes a whole lot of trouble."

"Like what? A normal person sees it, and Gaia starts smiting?"

"It's happened before. Alternatively, another Abyssal might find it. Given that most photos have GPS coordinates buried in their meta data, it's kinda like screaming into the night sky and hoping that no one hears."

"Oh."

"Yeah, but don't worry about it too much. We'll get your phone secured before we leave."

"So, what are the chances that the star just doesn't exist in the abyss?" John retrieved his build notebook from Inventory and began to take notes. Without a reliable source for new stars, he'd have to adjust some of his plans.

"Well, that kinda depends on what you mean. Latebloomer shenanigans aside, I'd imagine it's just rarer than what we typically deal with." The Abyssal glanced over at John. "You workin' on homework?"

"No, they're designs for a new set of equipment. I want to start grinding dungeon barriers this weekend."

"Hey, I'm impressed. After yesterday, I figured you'd want to wait a couple weeks at least."

"Yeah, that was my original plan, but I woke up to a new quest this morning, and the reward is just too good to pass up." John opened the quest and read the details to his companion.

Quest: Back in the Saddle
Objective: Enter a dungeon barrier by the end of the week.
(Optional Objectives):
Acquire an Active Skill (0/1)
Discover Artifice Components (0/3)
Raise an Active Skill to level 10 (0/1)
Reward: +25% XP rewards and +25% Drop Quantity (Boon duration: 6 hours)
(Bonus Reward): For each optional objective completed, double boon duration.

"I leveled up twice in my first dungeon, and at worst, that was only two hours of actual fighting. So, assuming a level per every couple hours, if everything goes absolutely perfectly, I could be up twenty levels by Monday morning."

"That sounds a little… overly ambitious."

"Yeah, I mean, I'm not crazy enough to think I'd actually get that much out of it, but it's still worth it for even a couple free levels."

"Alright, but why don't you go over those plans for me, just so I know you're not gettin' in over your head."

As the pair continued their commute, John described his plans to Daryl. On occasion, the Abyssal would interject with a suggestion, and John would scribble it down.

Before long, they arrived at the salvage yard. Daryl parked the van in a little covered carport by the main entrance then led John past the pole barns, through sapling infested junkers, to an old metal warehouse, the previous home of Sal’s salvage. Like everything else in the backlot, it had been left to rot. Rust had eaten holes through the metal siding, and the roof had fallen through in a handful of places.

The Abyssal retrieved something from his pocket and tossed it at John with a quick, “Heads up.”

Surprised, John awkwardly juggled the object and just barely caught it before it jumped beyond his reach. It was a copper medal just like the one Rooster had shown him the day before. He cast Observe, and the medal trembled in his hand.

Barrier Key (Sal's Salvage)
Description: Grants access to the protected space located at Sal's Salvage and owned by the Roc Hammer Guild.

Forwarn
Description: This item vibrates when it or its wearer become the target of divination magic, up to Journeyman tier effects.

“Don't lose that. It's your key to get into the guild barrier.” The Abyssal raised his fist in the air and disappeared.

John threw the medallion over his neck, and followed. A glimmer of color swept over the area and rolled back time. Grass replaced gravel and scrap. Metal walls and roofs were whole and pristine. The distant whirring of machines reverberated inside.

A sharp whistle pulled John's attention to a side door where his guide stood waving and shouting, “Come on. Times a wastin’.”

John jogged over, and the pair entered the manufacturing floor. A pathway about ten feet wide, outlined by yellow paint, split the manufacturing floor in two. Along the left were rows of modern industrial machines: mills, lathes, bandsaws, and more. Along the right were oversized cubicles, each with their own array of tools. A series of catwalks ran above everything. A mural of the guild emblem, a roc with an upturned tortoise in its talons, was emblazoned on the far wall.

Daryl pointed to an elevated office above the cubicles. “That’s Rooster’s office and apartment. So, try not to go up there unless he calls for ya.”

The pair passed through a set of doors beneath the mural into the stock warehouse, then some large equipment. John’s crafting skills recognized them as large scale mana batteries, pumps, and some form of generator or converter.

Through another set of doors on the far wall of the room, Daryl ushered John into a small workshop and said, “And this is the prototype shop, where we’ll be working.”

This smaller shop in some ways mirrored the production floor. A small array of basic machine tools sat on the right. A pair of darkened offices, each with a large window looking out over the little shop, made up the left side. Rows of metal stock marked the back boundary of the shop and ran far into the distance.

Three short rows of work tables ran parallel along the center of the room, the gap between them just wide enough to awkwardly sidle through. A cluttered mess of tools, rags, and metal chips marred the row nearest the offices, but the contents of the furthest row had been neatly arranged into distinct work stations. The bare center row appeared to be new given the scuff marks on the floor where the outer rows had been pulled apart, possibly to make room.

“Is it just going to be the two of us working back here?”

“Well, no. We’ve got one more, but they're out sick at the moment. Anyway, I've got one more thing to show you.” Daryl led John through the rows of stock to the far corner of the guild hall. Where they found stacks upon stacks of wooden crates. “These have all been marked for scrap. So, I figure you can work your way through it without affecting our debt.”

John leaned over an open crate and carefully rummaged through its contents. It was a disorganised cache of dented armor, broken weapons, and malformed parts. Nearly all were composed of mundane materials. Most were inlaid with precious metals. A few were embedded with precious stones.

He pulled an emitter from the pile, its surfaces inlaid with golden runes, and cast Observe.

Enchanted Emitter (Fire Bolt)
Rarity: Uncommon
Component Effect: Molds supplied mana into a small fire ball and then launches it in the direction of the emitter's tip.
Cost: 10 MP

Daryl asked, "Think you can work with this?"

"Uh… Sure, this'll do, for now."

"Alright, I'll leave you to it then."

As the Abyssal walked away, John began to sort through the discarded items looking for components that might fit into his designs and salvaging everything else. A steady thrum grew in the back of his mind as he began to assemble his first prototype.