by Macronomicon
At the bottom of the apartment complex-sized tank was a white painted chunk of steel covered in thick sludge, its paint and markings suspiciously like those of the holding tanks.
Jeb funneled a drop of Myst through the fist-sized lens, and spent the rest of the day smelling like gasoline, much to Smartass’s amusement.
After that, he made sure to use a net and telekinesis to probe around the inside of all the sludge-filled tanks, scoring several more types of oil lenses, namely kerosene, jet fuel, diesel, lubricant and tar.
Thankfully, he managed to gather these without blowing himself up.
“I bet Elon Musk would pay a mint for one of these,” Jeb said when he found the jet fuel lens. That was the kind of shit that could launch a colony to another planet. Sadly, Jeb lacked the technical skills to make that happen, so he would probably wind up using the priceless treasure to fuel an oil lamp or something.
Does Elon Musk still exist? Does Mars still exist? If Earth got torn up and moved somewhere else, it stood to reason that Mars got left behind.
Human refugees became more common the closer Jeb got to ‘civilization’, and Jeb found himself having to wave his gun around a lot more than he was comfortable with to drive off people trying to raid his trailer.
He even wound up running away from some Mad Max types, spiky mohawks and AK-47s and all. Thankfully any chase was made easier by pulling the keys out of the opposition’s ignition with telekinesis.
Smartass flipped their safeties on, too, which was nice of her.
Jeb visited a prison off the highway and found a Hopelessness lens on the grounds, as well as several families of squatters using it as a fortress, a la The Walking Dead. Jeb was able to barter his way in with live hares from the hare lens and refilling their water tank.
Predictably, they tried to lock him up and force him to use his Myst powers to provide food and drinking water indefinitely, but Jeb politely waited until night, unlocked the cell and left while they were asleep.
They took a few potshots at him while he was driving away, but none of them hit anything important.
Cruising through the dusty ruins of Sacramento, Jeb searched strip clubs, banks, cash 4 gold places, and so on.
He found a Euphoria (addictive) lens that looked like a lumpy white pill about the size of a pinky, a glitter lens that looked like a miniature disco ball, and several different dancing lenses, a couple of them pretty exotic.
Honestly, none of them were particularly useful in and of themselves, but unless Jeb missed his guess, they were probably incredibly valuable to the upper crust of the empire, who would likely pay through the nose to have a good time.
Jeb stored the party lenses away in a small locking case lest he be tempted to misuse them and shoved them in the very back of his trailer.
Jeb got into the habit of parking his Jeep at the top of the highest point he could find at night, taking turns with Smartass keeping an eye out for things trying to sneak up on them.
One particular night, Jeb was leaning back in the driver’s seat, feet thrown up on the dash as the last light disappeared toward the west. They had just finished setting up the blind that camouflaged the Jeep and were settling down to sleep for the night.
Jeb folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, body relaxing as the glare from the sun gradually faded from his left. He was parked on top of a particularly tall butte that had been Stitched in from Pharos, making a natural semi-mountain in the middle of the flat Californian terrain.
Jeb groaned awake what felt like a short time later as the glare of sunlight began peeking in through his right-hand side, making his eyelids glow flickering red from the inside.
Flickering? The blind could make the morning sun flicker if it were windy, blowing around their camouflage...but Jeb didn’t hear any wind.
Something’s wrong.
Jeb peeked open one eye, not wanting to make any sudden movements. There was a possibility whatever beast was sniffing around his car hadn’t found him for sure yet. Best not to startle anything with big ugly claws.
Jeb’s other eye opened, and he frowned at the shifting rainbow on the horizon. It looked something like the northern lights, but much brighter, more energetic and…
A shock ran through Jeb’s body and he lunged up to get a better look.
“Ack!” Smartass was flung out of her makeshift nest in his hair, landing prone on the dash. “What, what is it!?” Smartass asked, rubbing her eyes, obviously having been asleep during her watch.
Off in the distance, Jeb could see multiple suns rising, their light split into dozens of different facets. Jeb frowned as he watched one of the suns wink out, while another appeared off to the left, and another reversed its course, sinking back below the jagged Stitched mountain horizon.
Jeb narrowed his eyes and peered at the mountains.
The snow-capped heights dried in seconds, bursting into green for a moment before turning a desolated brown, followed by pale bluish white as the flickering rainbow sunlight crested above the mountain. Jeb watched in horrified fascination as the strange phenomena climbed onto the spine of the mountain, causing odd fluctuations in the terrain as it went.
Jeb watched as the rapid fluctuations in terrain flowed down the mountainside toward him like a rainstorm sweeping down a slope.
Jeb turned the key and the engine rumbled to life.
Jeb could feel a trembling sensation that seemed to emanate from the scintillating lightshow creeping over the mountain, washing over him in barely perceived waves. It crawled across the ground, through the floor of his jeep, scaled his legs, straight up his spine before worming its way behind his eyes.
The odd whooshing noises from the top of the mountain began to sound less like a wind instrument, and more like a voice, humming a tune that Jeb couldn’t quite recognize. He’d definitely heard it before somewhere, though. He cocked his head, trying to figure out the melody...
Ow! Jeb’s head jerked as he snapped out of the odd trance. Smartass was hunched over, pinching the back of his hand with everything she had.
“I...think we should be going now,” Jeb said, craning his neck to keep an eye on the storm as they turned away. It wasn’t moving very fast—maybe fifteen miles an hour—but Jeb didn’t wanna be anywhere near whatever the hell that was.
Jeb drove the Jeep down the opposite side of the butte, the Jeep threatening to roll several times as they made their way down the dusty hill.
Jeb spared a second between boulders to glance over at Smartass, who was glancing out the back of the truck at the flickering rainbows behind them.
“I thought the agreement was you keep watch at night, and I let you sit on the air conditioner during the day,” Jeb accused, his hands jerking as the right tire caught an oversized rock. Jeb compensated quick, before they began tumbling down the hillside.
“But it’s so boring!” Smartass protested.
“It was an informal arrangement because I thought you could handle the responsibility. I guess I was wrong. You’ve lost your air conditioner privileges,” Jeb said, hitting the gas as they neared the bottom of the butte, turning south and aiming for the desolate highway.
“Nooo!”
After the close encounter with the Roil, Jeb continued to scavenge his way down the west coast until he came across Solmnath in all its glory.
L.A. and Solmnath were both so big that the Stitching tore them apart, mixing them back together in a confusing jumble of architecture.
Ye olde castles stood right next to skyscrapers, and the city wall had a huge, ten-mile-long rent in the side where the American city and its paved roads spilled out into the desert. They were currently in the process of patching those pale blue walls up, but in the meantime, anyone could just drive in if they chose.
On his way in, Jeb came across more and more people fleeing the city, cheeks sunken and hollow from lack of food. Men, women, and children were leaving the city in what appeared to be a mass exodus, carrying little but the clot
hes on their back, wandering out into the desert to die.
They gave him strange, hungry looks when they saw the color in his cheeks, and Jeb didn’t stay long enough to find out what it meant. He faced forward and hit the gas.
Deeper into the city, he found the public order somewhat retained, as he came across the people who could afford to eat.
There was a port with a massive fleet of fishing boats just outside the torn coast, navigating the complicated Stitchwork that had been created when the two uneven coastlines merged.
Jeb’s opportunity to buy a mansion came easier than he thought it would.
As it turned out, the aristocrats of Solmnath had sort of…hermit-crabbed into the more impressive skyscrapers, bringing their servants with them.
This made it almost downright cheap to buy the recently abandoned mansions and castles. Of course, ‘cheap’ meant cheap for a mansion, and Jeb still had to pay about ten pounds of gold bullion for a semi-abandoned property, with peeling paint and weeds choking the front lawn.
It was big, though…. Three stories, with forty rooms on each floor, kitchen, bathrooms, basic plumbing. With a little TLC, Jeb could see it housing several hundred people.
Now I just need to staff it, Jeb thought, scanning the massive building.
***Kol Rejan, level 57 Courier***
Kol Rejan walked through the doors of Garland Grenore’s office, head on a swivel, taking in every little detail, his heartbeat measured but heavy. He knew that he’d made enemies along the path of his career, and there was every chance this Grenore fellow had arranged a trap.
There was a bodyguard in the corner, but by the way gravity was pulling on his skin and hair, his Body couldn’t be any higher than twenty.
The dim look in his eye didn’t suggest much Nerve, either. And the melas certainly wasn’t a Mystic. They didn’t take low-paying bodyguard jobs.
Kol dismissed the melas as a threat and reoriented on the slimy businessman in front of him. Garland Grenore was wearing typical loose keegan clothing, albeit made of rich Zanta silk and woven gold.
Tacky.
Kol was wearing similar loose clothing. Although his was far more drab, it was also concealing body armor and several hidden weapons.
“Kol Rejan!” Garland said, rising in his chair and offering Kol his hand. “You come highly recommended, I must say.” Kol stared at the hand until the buffoon put it away.
“Highly recommended by who?”
“Come now, I was instructed not to tell anyone that. You’re someone. As far as I’m concerned, it came to me in a dream. I don’t even remember.”
Good. At least the rich man had a modicum of discretion.
Kol glanced over his shoulder at the bodyguard. “Your bodyguard might be more comfortable outside in the hall for the next few minutes.”
“Indeed, it’s a rather hot day.” Grenore nodded to the muscle, who shrugged and left, leaving the two of them alone.
Kol briefly lamented not having a contract for the sleaze in front of him. If he had, he’d already be done with his job, and he’d probably enjoy it.
“You’re going to write a letter,” he said. “Address it to the target, pay me my fee, and I will deliver it.”
“Oh. Is that it? I thought you were going to—”
“Obviously, I’m going to kill him,” Kol interrupted, his head pounding from the sheer stupid.
“Is there anything in particular I should write?”
“No, I’m gonna kill him. If you want me to deliver the letter first, that’ll cost extra.”
“Well then, what would that cost?” Grenore asked as he dipped his pen and wrote a big ‘Fuck You’ diagonally across the page in flowery letters.
“Two hundred, up front.”
“Done.” Garland folded the letter and slipped it in an envelope. “As for his address... Just his name, or…?”
“Name and location, to the best of your knowledge.”
“Jebediah Trapper,” Grenore muttered as he wrote. “Solmnath.”
“There you go,” he said, sliding the letter across the polished wood.
“My fee.”
“How do I know you’ll follow through? I’m not so naïve as to part with my money before a service has been rendered. I’ll give you money when I see that bastard’s head bleeding on my desk.”
Kol gave a flat stare. “My reputation is sterling. Yours leaves much to be desired. You will pay me in advance. I could just as easily kill you right now and walk away with the money in your desk. Do not test me.”
“Ahem. Yes.”
Grenore pulled out a drawer and swiftly placed five leather cases on the table, each carrying forty bulbs.
Kol picked them up and slung their straps over his shoulder, hid the cases under his flowing clothes, then picked up the letter. He wasn’t actually going to deliver them, no matter what he told his clients. Who was going to contradict him? The target?
Kol had become fairly adept at lying, describing the anger, fear and anguish as his target read the final message from his employer. Actually giving them the letter was too much of a security risk, but that service was entirely for the client’s gratification anyway, so a lie worked just as well.
The moment the letter was in his hand, Kol’s second Class Ability, Unerring Delivery kicked in, and he felt an immaterial tug guiding him towards his target. Towards the south.
“Thank you for your patronage. Expect word from me in about three grent.” Kol pocketed the letter and turned away, still feeling the gradual tug toward the recipient of the letter.
‘Become a courier, son. There’s a lot of job opportunities out there for people who can deliver.’ How right he was. In the history of the world, how many couriers had reached level fifty? Not too damn many.
Which was why his ability to find anyone, anywhere, was so highly valued. Kol took the occasional side job finding lost children or relatives, but hunting down traitors and assassinating them paid much, much better.
“Three grent? It only takes four weeks to get there! I swear, if this is some kind of scam…”
Kol glanced over his shoulder, and the windbag deflated, unwilling to complain to Kol’s face. Kol rolled his eyes and turned away again, leaving the office. Scammers see scams everywhere they look. It was the nature of the beast.
“Well, that’s settled. Now the…” Kol heard Grenore say before he faded out of earshot.
Kol left the way he’d come, stepping out onto the street and taking a moment to breathe in the fresh mountain air. It wouldn’t be long until he had to deal with the stench of Solmnath. He turned to the south, allowing the tugging sensation from his Ability to guide his feet.
He had a letter to deliver.
Chapter 11: Buying Company
“This must be the place,” Jeb said, glancing up at the sign. ‘Otto’s Slave House’ hung over the door, according to Smartass, but it wasn’t sleazy and written on a plank of wood; it was carved into marble and gold, hung above the entrance of the fancy-looking building by thin strands of some kind of unnaturally strong silk.
The only thing that gave the place away as a den of scum and villainy was the stench of hopelessness and the subtle change in the flavor of local Myst and spirits. They were darker, somehow.
“Yeah, I’m not too sure about this place,” Smartass said, hiding in his collar as he walked into the main lobby. It was like the entrance to an opera house, all red carpets and snooty staffers.
The entire place was lit with a warm glow, which did little to offset the unease that Jeb felt as he approached the main desk. The keegan watched him from behind the desk, brow raised.
No matter what happened now, the most important thing was to avoid getting added to the merchandise.
“I’m sorry sir, but we do not serve human—”
Jeb slung three cases of bulbs, a hundred and twenty of them in total, onto the desk with a satisfying thunk. Over seven pounds of gold.
“How about we skip all of that shit an
d get to the part where you sell me some people?” Jeb asked, giving the guy the do not fuck with me look he’d developed in his time in the army. A well-timed staredown was often better than minutes of useless explanations and haggling. It allowed the other guy to fill in their own blanks.
“You must be the human who bought the Linnorn manor,” a keegan said, approaching from the side. “Please forgive my employee’s impudence. Your money is good here.”
Of course it is, Jeb thought, slinging the cases back over his shoulder.
The new keegan motioned to the side with delicate fingers. Jeb tried to figure out if it was male or female, then decided he didn’t care, following alongside the slave trader.
“My name is Colus. I assume you’re here to look for staffers for your new home? We have some young women who would be perfect for a virile man such as yourself. There hasn’t been much time to train them, obviously, but there’ve been so many humans selling themselves and each other for a meal that it’s a bit of a buyer’s market out there. As such, we can simply use the power of numbers to search for people who most closely match your tastes.
“Are you looking for a project, perhaps? A girl that will take some time and effort, but be rewarding to tame? Or perhaps you prefer a more docile, bookish type? Or a matronly housewife to care for your body and soothe your spirits?”
“Are you working me right now?” Jeb asked, frowning. “Never mind, of course you are. I don’t think anybody’s ever called me virile before. Feels weird. Just arrange for me to view everyone you’ve got,” Jeb said. “I’ll do the rest myself.”
“As you wish.” Colus stopped him in the hall for a moment and sent word to gather everyone in the courtyard.
They chatted for a couple minutes, and Jeb made sure not to let anything personal slip, especially not the reason he was here.
Sure, people to help run his mansion were helpful, but they weren’t the actual reason he was here, and since he couldn’t directly lie about that, the conversation kinda went in circles.
