Stratas of Fusion 4 – The Worker in Nowhere

Everyone in the breakroom watched the news report with rapt interest.

Eugene was just one of them. He was older than some and younger than most, sitting comfortably in his early thirties. Like the rest of them, he wore a coverall of a bright red colour. It helped contrast them from the background while they were out collecting the scraps left behind in Natural Barriers by stronger adventuring parties. It was a simple and honest job, a little more interesting than mining in the Guild Hall and a little better paid as well.

Eugene had always been happy he had taken it and gotten out of the Big Apple. Huge cities did not suit him. The country west of the Appalachians worked for him just fine. Densely populated enough to have everything he wanted in reach and quiet enough he could go to work in the morning, go to his quarters in the moving work camp in the afternoon, and jokingly complain about his lack of wife to the boys in the pub in the afternoon. The usual bachelor experience. He would do this job for a couple of years and then he would have enough money to buy a nice place somewhere.

“Have we missed anything?!” That was the overseer of the operation. Joyce was a harsh taskmaster, always making sure everybody was on deck at all times, raking through the battle-scarred Natural Barriers to extract every last scrap of magical metal and other materials that had been generated.

Today, he had drummed together everyone who had been out on the field.

“Not yet,” one of the other workers said. “Might if you don’t shut up though.”

Everyone hastily crammed into the room. It was a single-chamber structure, a rebuilt shipping container to be precise, that they placed in every Natural Barrier that they worked in for several days. It was not big enough for the entire crew at once. At most, half were supposed to be in it at the same time. Eugene had his elbow in the rib of another person. Neither he nor the coworker complained.

“The scale of the damage is still being analysed,” the voice of the reporter spoke over live footage of the damages done to the Guild Hall. A trench went out from what Eugene recognized as the Guild Bank through the Commercial District. The more they panned out, the more it was visible. It was not a straight path but a line that danced, broke, reconnected, and curved all over the place. “So far, the **** toll is estimated to be around 53 people.”

“Dang,” Eugene muttered under his breath. 53 people as an early estimation was a lot. Less people died in hurricanes.

“For those that have just tuned in, we repeat what has transpired: about 10 AM today, Hypercrush, a competitor in the recent Small Lake Tournament, was let out of custody. By 11 AM, he had robbed a supermarket and emptied their liquor aisle, fuelling his **** powers.”

“His **** powers,” one of the guys snorted.

“Shut the fuck up, Jerry,” another man snapped back.

“Or what?”

“Take it outside!” Joyce barked. The overseer’s voice shut them both up and they remained in their seats.

“At 11:20 AM, Hypercrush wandered out of the supermarket and suddenly disappeared through a portal. He was then not sighted for about six hours. We are currently getting reports that Hypercrush was first seen in the Guild Hall at 5 PM. The people saw him charge over the water, but did not report it, as they had not been aware he was a criminal. By 5:15 PM, he had reached the Guild Hall, where he asked a helper to be given access to the storage. When the request was denied, he immediately turned violent. At first he merely shoved people around. At 5:21, the custodian of the Guild Hall, Enki, and Central Guild Hall Overseer, Hank Smith, arrived on the scene by happenstance. A Sentry Golem was crushed, then a soldier swiftly executed. The Ohmior Warden was deployed and taken out by Hypercrush. The Warden of the Golden Rose, Lady Moira Brighton, then intervened, together with the second guardian of the Guild Hall, Trashpexus.”

Various images wandered over the screen, showing pictures of the entities talked about. When the Lady Warden was on the screen, Eugene tried to draw the sign of the rose on his chest. The room was too tight to do so. For Trashpexus, he did not have such a reverent reaction. The creation of slime appeared like a muscular humanoid, oddly enough. He would have expected something more… trashy.

“As of our last updates, Hank Smith and 21 other people are in critical condition, but are being treated by Apothecaries and water elementals. The Lady Warden was injured but has since recovered and is currently giving chase to the foe. Hypercrush was last seen near the Harbour. His current whereabouts are unknown.”

“Gaia almighty,” Joyce mumbled, when the reports started to circle around the same info repeatedly. “Been a while since shit like this happened.”

“Not worse than the Hudson Brawl,” one of the workers commented.

The first people, curiosity satisfied, began to stream out of the room. Eugene was tempted to follow them. Not like sitting about and watching it was going to change anything. “I’m just happy shit like this no longer happens everywhere,” he commented.

“”Aye,”” it came from several people simultaneously. There was now enough room that Eugene could sit down on the break table. A box of cards was pulled out. A big box with many cards.

“Yugioh, Pokemon or Magic?” Tulten asked. The half-elf had one day brought his rather sizeable card collection along and it had gradually become normal to borrow decks from him to play during breaktime. Tulten sometimes joked that his cards were getting diminished by all the grubby hands. When he was asked if that was serious, he shrugged and said he liked seeing them actually be used.

They had some short chatter about what decks they would pick, then separated into a few play groups. When they began to play, it was with distracted slowness. They all kept glancing at the TV.

“Think anything is going to change because of this?” Eugene asked the question on his mind.

“’Course not,” Seb, a dark-haired orc, immediately answered. “Nothing ever changes.”

“Yeah, because Fusion arriving changed nothing,” Eugene answered mockingly.

“It didn’t,” the orc growled. “We got the same job we always had. Just ‘cause you joined us later doesn’t change that fact.”

“Oh yeah? I thought this guild only operated west of Boston before?” Eugene asked with feigned ignorance. “Oh, and these tools, these helmets?” He knocked on his own, currently dangling from the back of his chair. “Just spawned out of the aether, I suppose. Didn’t have anything to do with the new mass producible polymer the Smug Alchemist came up with.”

The orc grunted. “Little adjustments that mean nothing.”

“I thought you learned that trying to convince Seb that something good is happening in the world is futile,” one of the other men at the table joked, and everyone laughed. Cards were played. The mirth quickly died down, as they glanced back over to the TV. “Still though… how did that even happen? Isn’t there a goddess on that island?”

“Two, from what I hear,” Eugene answered. “Or was it three?”

“Nathalia, Raven and Thana, I think,” one of the workers threw in.

“Nightingale,” another one corrected.

“Doesn’t look like a Nightingale…”

“Yeah, that’s why I can remember it, ironically enough.”

“Anyway, where were they?”

“I hear the President is out west, making sure the Gobbo and Catto Nations join us,” Eugene answered.

“Sometimes I think it’s really annoying that you keep up with politics,” another one of the men said. “Today, I will forgive you for all of the other times. So he took his entire harem with him out west?”

“Seems that way… well, depends on if you believe if the Blessed Warden is part of his harem.”

“Mhm… no, don’t think so,” Eugene threw his opinion back in, together with a board clear onto the table. People grumbled and removed their big monster from play. “If John Newman is travelling with his whole harem, he’ll be travelling with his whole harem.”

“Makes enough sense,” the man mumbled his agreement.

Seb rubbed his chin. “Why was he even out and about? I thought they had locked the guy up? Hypercrush, I mean?”

“Hear there were members of Parliament that put together a pardon,” Eugene answered.

Seb grunted in shock. “Really? Well, I guess something is going to change in the short term then… A bunch of politicians are about to lose their jobs.”

“Should be beaten to **** on live TV, if you ask me,” said Stan. He was a quiet man, rarely talked much and much rarer about politics.

“Maybe,” Eugene agreed. “Don’t think Fusion’s legal system allows that though.”

“Just another farce on top of all of this,” Stan said, more to himself than everyone else. “John should just make himself king or dictator or whatever he prefers. All of this pretence of a law code just weighs everything down.”

“It’s important to a proper society to have a code of conduct.”

Stan gave a singular glance that spelled out how ridiculous he found the notion. “That’s mundane talk, where they are all equally weak. In our reality, there’s those that know better. The Gamer is that one.”

“Then you should respect that he knows better when he decided to make it a republic,” Eugene pushed back. “The benefits of this are numerous.”

“Theoretical benefits.”

“Practical benefits,” Eugene held his position firmly. “To make the demos the sovereign means that he has to listen to the people whenever he is uncertain. It is us that he relies on for advice, the gathered wisdom of an entire people, because he knows that even he alone cannot digest all the information that flows towards him. Further, by limiting himself to a specific set of duties, he can concentrate on them.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan waved off, clearly not convinced but not interested in the argument either. They continued playing cards, trying to chat about less contentious topics.

It was difficult, with the news program still playing. “We now have confirmation that the people in critical condition have been saved. The total **** count appears to have been found to be 61… and we are now cutting over to an emergency press conference of the President.”

An effect swooshed across the screen, then they looked at John Newman standing in front of a crooked podium. It had been hastily assembled. Many of the cables could still be seen. He was a handsome man, it could not be denied, in a slim fit suit. A bit of a nondescript look, with his short brown hair and brown eyes, but his presence could be felt through the screen anyhow.

‘It is no wonder so many would be fine with surrendering their political power if it was him,’ Eugene thought. ‘He does have the charisma and the wisdom… but I do still like having my voice.’

“Honoured citizens and guests of Fusion,” he began in a sombre tone. “Today, the Guild Hall was attacked by a Latebloomer named Hypercrush. The attack could have been prevented on multiple layers. Hypercrush was within custody and was only released today due to a pardon written by members of Parliament. I have spoken to said members already and they have taken the honourable step to resign. They have further suggested to do charity work for the next several years, benefits of which will go to the families of the affected.”

“Should have hung themselves publicly,” Stan muttered.

“They are being held accountable,” Eugene pushed back.

“By getting to work no doubt cushy office jobs for ‘charity’?” Stan shook his head. “This is just another farce. He went to them and told them they had to take accountability. They did the least they could. Why wouldn’t they? The incentives line up.”

“If you punish people that are willing to repent draconically, then no one will ever take risks. It is better to reward success than punish failure.”

“I agree,” Stan said, “but some failures are too vast to come back from. Some sins run too deep.”

Eugene hummed. The continuation of the speech interrupted them.

“There was also a severe miscalculation on my part, for which I take full responsibility. I had assumed that Hypercrush would go to the largest concentrations of **** around. This was, indeed, wrong, and I have received reports that an item of mine has been stolen from the Guild Bank. This capability was unexpected and I can only blame myself for it. What has been stolen pales in comparison to the lives lost.

“I have been merciful to enemies in the past, but such enemies fought against me for reasons that I could respect. There is no shame in honouring alliances or standing for the wish of independence. There is, however, endless shame in killing and plundering to chase a greater high and nothing else.

“My orders are simple: to the average person of Fusion, avoid Hypercrush to the best of your ability. Do not report his location until you have retreated to safety. He is unstable of mind and your only priority should be to get away from him. You do not stand a chance. I respect, no, I salute those that have heroism in their heart, but this is not a villain for you to defeat. Me and mine will hunt him down and bring him to an end.”

“Good thing,” Eugene said, to the agreement of everyone.

Then the alarm rang, signalling the end of their break. He stood up, grabbed his helmet, and headed for the exit. Another four hours of raking dirt and breaking down magical stone formations were before him. Despite the events in motion in the capital, nothing had really changed for him.

He prayed it would stay that way.