Chapter 16

We did end up calling CAA to tow May’s car. They told us that with delays and detours the car could be picked up in 5-10 business days. I laughed as Dave reluctantly used his towbar on the Jeep for the first time in the ten years he’d owned it. Neighbors saw him backing it carefully into his parent’s driveway and he was quickly inundated with similar requests to tow their own vehicles or those of their family. I got a perverse kind of pleasure seeing the Lawyer become a tow truck driver, albeit temporarily.

The In-Laws and Seneca were ‘released’ the next day. I picked them up in a van that was still damp from me basically power washing out the inside of it.

Noting silently that May had her purse, I vowed to never say a thing about it.

Seneca was full of stories. Things he’d seen and things he’d done. The boy he had fought with at school months ago was the only other boy his age that was there. I was prepared to listen to another story of the two fighting but oddly the two of them seemed to get along ’like a house on fire’ (as May described it). The two of them had found all the hallways and ‘off-limits’ maintenance corridors in the place in the last 36 hours and I had to listen to his description of a pump room through the eyes of a ten-year-old. The two hooligans had taken advantage of the situation in their own way.

Xavier’s Hospital had managed to upgrade the container around the pink portal on their basement before the second breakout and all 10 large ‘Boss’ spiders were crammed into a cage that barely held them. My next shift I was requested to “Kill the damn things and throw them into the incinerator”. I agreed but wanted an extra day off with pay. The nameless-faceless-soulless-brainless manager couldn’t agree fast enough, and I walked out with a smile.

In the end I trooped down with a couple of interested and invested coworkers and we used one of the big swords to skewer the damn things until we couldn’t see any movement. I pulled out the silver, and noticed (by the numbers) that one must have still been alive in there, so we stabbed the sword through the bars of the cage a bunch more until I had enough silver to account for ten dead Boss spiders. I think it was cathartic for both me and some of the other ladies there.

Using gowns and gloves that we would use for ‘precautions patients’ I draped armour over it all and dragged the dead spiders out into the medical incinerator in a garbage wheelbarrow. It took the entire 12 hours of my shift, but I earned my ‘free’ day off, 500 Silver and another ‘Sharpness 10%’ marble for my efforts. My face was sore by the time I got home from smiling so damn much. If the management at Xavier’s ever clued in that they basically handed me a quarter of a million dollars (and also a paid day off) they never said anything about it to me. If nothing else, I was going to stick it out here for a while longer just to see if they might do it again sometime.

Mercenary, that’s me.

Janet and I had another video made in her basement discussing the breakout. She’d gone roaming the streets on her bicycle and come across some bloody huge snakes, killing eight eventually. The skins were apparently available for purchase.

My description of the deer (rifle) hunters actually taking out most of the skeletons was latched onto by the gun advocate groups. Their message seemed to be that everyone should carry a shotgun at all times, never mind the fact that the firearms industry didn’t have a hope of keeping up with current demand these days as it was. Prices were getting ridiculous.

Jimmy called three days later, and was desperate to come get the boots he’d seen on one of the skeletons and return my pearl ring.

“What is with these damn boots?” I said exasperated. He was still in hospital and would have left against doctor’s orders had I not capitulated and agreed to drive up to him.

“Just bring them, and I’ll show you.” He pleaded with an excited quiver in his voice.

I’d left the armour on the floor of my washroom for a day before taking the pressure washer to every last piece before hanging it all in the garage over some hooks Dave had installed to hold garden tools and bicycles.

The ‘Other’ stuff I’d found in the Ants midden that I couldn’t show anyone else went into the newly emptied gun safe. Dave had removed his rifles and taken them to his Slutpad, leaving me with the combination to the safe (which I immediately changed). It was such a relief to get those things out of my inventory. I’d been working with the feeling of an extra ten pounds from then for weeks now and the lightning feeling when I locked them up was indescribably amazing.

I went alone to the hospital to visit with Jimmy and found him on an overcrowded ward telling stories (mostly true from what I heard) about his adventures to a reporter of some type. The girl was young, trim, and hanging of his every word. Pretty girls who hung around hockey players were called ‘Puck Bunnies’, rodeo hangers-on were ‘Buckle Bunnies’ while baseball players had Cleat-Chasers. I wondered what we should call these kind of girls ... Hunter Honeys? Sword Sluts? I rolled my eyes and asked him if there was anywhere we could talk.

“Over here first.” He motioned to another bed on his ward where we found a young guy asleep, with multiple IV’s and open wounds on his legs that looked like the punctures of a spider, but larger.

“Snake” he said quietly and pointed to his toe that had a lump of tape on it. “Ring...” he whispered. “It saved him, he’s another Weapon. They dragged him in here after we arrived. Both the asshole I came in with and I were mostly over it by then, I slipped it on him when I heard them talking about him through the curtains. He was a real hero and saved a lot of people apparently.”

I glanced at this Hero, who looked about 18, chubby, and looked like the quintessential nerd and was certainly all beat to hell. Every part of him that I could see was bruised or bleeding still. “I hope he makes it.” I said, pulling out the boots and passing them to Jimmy. He’d held up his end of the bargain (more or less). “So: What’s the story of these? Tweak your fashion sense, did they?” I asked with a grin.

“It’s not the boots, it’s the heel ... did you notice?” He said excitedly, pointing dramatically.

I looked at the heel of the metal-banded, calf high armour. They had a long-ish point coming back from the rear of the boot, but it was too dull and short to be any sort of weapon.

“They’re spurs!” he said as though that’d explain everything.

I must have looked at him with a blank stare for a dozen seconds, wondering what the hell had gotten him so excited.

“You use spurs on a mount! This means that mounts exist!” He all but squealed.

I was tempted to keep the boots until I got my ring back, but our soon-to-be-mounted leader promised me on his yet-to-be-named (or even discovered) mount that he would bring it back as soon as the unnamed Hero-nerd-guy in the bed across from him didn’t need it anymore since he was staying in here awhile.

Driving home, I detoured to Brian and May’s place, stopping in for coffee and a chat before shooting off to the school to pull the kids before they got on the bus.

I impulsively took them out for dinner, Seneca loudly and boldly suggesting Sushi (though he’d never eaten it before) and us girls just rolled with it. I selected some things that wouldn’t put anyone off Sushi and we all mostly enjoyed it, although I did order a few beautiful Tuna sashimi which intrigued Seneca and grossed out Ashley.

Work turned out to be quiet for a change. No middle managers asking me to do the impossible, or to hold their hand while they made a simple decision. Even my patients were in a good mood, by and large.

Though I’ve previously sworn that I never made close friends at work, it seemed like more and more of my coworker’s overruled my opinion and decided that we were buddies. I smiled and nodded, joining in on a few conversations and card games at lunch and before long the novelty of me passed again and I was back to quietly reading at lunch and on break; alone. I just didn’t seem to have much in common with Norms these days.

Janet and I were a wine-powered dynamo on the weekends though. Our “Two Chicks” MeTube series was now on a second platform. Vivideo management ported all of our talks about the portals (but not the ‘identify this’ ones) to a paid-content channel. I was initially upset as the idea had initially been to educate and warn others about the real hazards and situations we faced ‘inside’. My argument for free dissemination was countered by the widely held idea that paid-for content was considered (by the general public) to be more reliable and accurate than any content given away for free.

Additionally, the number of copies that found their way back onto platforms like MeTube, along with ‘reaction’ and ‘comment’ reposts was probably going to spread the message further and wider than it previously would have anyways.

Our earnings were astronomical (if you calculated it on a per-hour of time invested) for these videos. I would have seriously considered quitting working for Xavier’s if not for the health benefits we might need and the fact that if Dave decided to contest for full custody, it was a mark against me to not have a permanent job. A number of well-meaning coworkers had come to me and spilled their own personal divorce horror stories as well as pitfalls to avoid. (Dave never did ask for anything but regular shared custody in the end).

Interviews and debriefings from the last breakout were long and intense by tired looking investigators from both CSIS and the RCMP. The bodies of the hunters that I’d dropped pins at (on my phone’s map) were considered to be associated with me somehow, despite none of their deaths having occurred while I was present. I called up John to have him confirm my stories and apologized for throwing him under the bus like this. He took it in stride and let me know that payback would be one meal with him once the dust settled. I wasn’t sure where this was headed but I had a smile on for the rest of the day anyways.

The stupid skeleton I’d sniped from the overpass turned out to be the biggest headache of them all. That shot was caught by no fewer than two traffic cameras and three dash-cams. The young girl Weapon described the stone she’d held for a few moments that had wrecked the big bone-rack that was menacing her and her family and although nobody got my licence plate on camera, enough people knew me and what I’d been up to that night to point the newspeople (and other idiots) in my face. The bus shelter people got in on the action and video of that fight was posted everywhere also. Adding to the hysteria was a poorly framed video of me fighting the stupid half-dead tiger thing.

From my point of view, the part that had me cringing was the audio. Every single video was either shown with the mute button firmly depressed or bleeped out in a way that had me appearing to be swearing like a proverbial drunken sailor. One of the late-night comedy shows even got in on it, having one of their female actors put together a few voiceovers where the bleeped-out words weren’t offensive at all. The only one I liked was the one where I was fighting off the two spiders and appeared to be coaching my kids soccer match from the sidelines. I didn’t like the one where they managed to fake me telling the audience how to make banana muffins while stabbing and slashing the tiger-thing to death ... they substituted ‘banana’ for every f-bomb I dropped. There was a lot of bananas in that recipe.

Not everyone tried to be funny about it though. More than one ‘reaction’ video was done by some specialist or other who critiqued and criticized my fighting style and prowess, a number just claimed it was fake. Somehow, they even dug up the three lazy arseholes I’d run the two pink portals with, one called me a MILF, the other said I was a ‘Class A Bitch’ and they all agreed that I could swear like a trucker. Parent-teacher interviews were never going to be the same.

Other videos were taken of other specialists (both Weapon and Norm) all trying (unsuccessfully) to make a similar shot (the overpass kill) with a similar weapon with various conclusions about it being extremely lucky or me being extremely skilled.

If only they knew.

My anchors through all of this were the kids, Janet and John. May and I had returned to awkwardly orbiting each other, not sure what to say if it wasn’t about the kids. The official investigations had ended relatively quickly and with all the volunteered information fitting with the physical evidence, those cases were soon considered closed. John felt it was time that I honored his request for a date and instead of a restaurant I was invited (with the kids) to go fishing for trout and whatever else we could catch for a shore lunch.

Turns out that he owned and ran a small fishing and hunting guide office. Though initially standoffish with John; once the rods came out Seneca was in heaven, once again catching fish for the table. Ashley wouldn’t let anything she caught be eaten, it had to be released, or she wasn’t going to participate. John agreed, and I watched quietly as she out-fished her big brother who was mostly ignoring John’s advice. You wouldn’t know it from his bravado though, his fish got bigger every time he retold the story.

Lunch was different, fantastic. Just being away from the house and the telephone, and the constant barrage of comments and interview requests was like a soothing balm on my strained psyche.

Janet and I continued to make our ‘Identify This Shit’ videos. More and more items were being mailed to us (via Vivideo) and interview requests were forwarded through them also. It was then that I appreciated having ‘a production company that also made porn’ running interference on potential paparazzi and stalkers as well as providing discreet transportation and secure filming areas. They were good at keeping us protected. I had to grudgingly admit it been a lucky thing agreeing to work with them.

Our videos of the two of us discussing our many adventures in the Blue Graveyard and Pink Anthill were each viewed millions of times, and we were very proud whenever we received feedback telling us how we had helped other teams be better prepared and had probably saved lives.

The online sales (auctions really) of magic items really took off also. It was a basic fact that anything on our show would be up for auction three days after the video was posted (assuming the owner didn’t want the item back).

Cufflinks that couldn’t be undone except by their owners, a quill pen that couldn’t be lost, a shoulder bag that held more water than physically possible, all sorts of curiosities like that sold quickly and for good money. Our team was now financially secure through sales of our own ‘magic’ goodies we’d found. (Mostly to ordinary people, not Weapons!)

Non-magical weapons and armour sold well also. Shields, machetes, swords, bows, and stone axes all sold to collectors and Weapons alike. With our preference for payment in Game Silver (which we felt gave preferential treatment to Weapons) it was estimated by one knowledgeable source that we had driven up its value by 25% or more. Dave’s investment company was now paying a flat $550 for Silver and making a mint selling it on for $700 or so. My initial investment in that company being valued at triple what I’d bought in for. Copycat buyers popped up all over, and even major commercial banks opened their own Silver trading arms which had to be staffed with at least one Weapon to ensure the silver was Legit. The ‘side-hustle’ was going mainstream for many of us Weapons.

It was inevitable that the military would contact us. They owned (or at least maintained control over) many of the highest-level portals known to exist and used them to ‘develop’ soldiers and contractors into high-ranked Weapons, so they had quite a number of items to identify.

Security was tight, but we managed to make an arrangement that had them pay for ‘lost’ revenue of any item Janet identified that they didn’t want made public and in turn we’d be their main sales branch for stuff they didn’t want or need. The pure number of NDA’s I’ve signed is astonishing. Not surprisingly, they had more than a few ‘off air’ items. You wouldn’t believe the crazy shit I’ve seen them find...

The American military offered me an unreasonable cash amount for ‘Rackham’s Flag’ and I took it, paying off all my debts and filling out my RRSP and the kids RESPs with the after-tax proceeds. I was now well on my way to being a wealthy mercenary.

We also basically got first pick of all the goodies that went through us. My personal Silver went towards buying high-level and other locked items with an eye for both investments and future developments of myself and maybe my team. So far, I have purchased six items of level 12 or higher, one of them was level 20.

“Deflect” was passive skill that would alter the flight path of any missile weapon by one degree for every five meters. It was locked at level 18 and I didn’t hesitate to buy it for 225 Silver or use one of my remaining four keys on it immediately. It was also an area effect and my team eventually noticed that arrows, spears, quills, fireballs or even sprayed acid rarely seemed to hit us. It served us very well when we finally found the Green portal that the Goblins had appeared from during the last breakout. John actually found it after backtracking (then destroying evidence of it) and collapsed the rest of the soft earth cliff that it was resting under, burying it completely. We had to dig it out carefully each time we went in. John eventually got the reward for finding it (after carefully ensuring that no evidence we had ever been there remained) but he waited to report it to the government for months while my team and I ran it all we could.

Not too much Silver or magical items were found in level one (The Encampment) but it was a hell of an adventure and the experience gained was huge compared to other levels. We ran level two (The Village) all five times too. It was then that the team noticed my ‘Deflect’ skill in action. It would have been hard not to when all 30 of the incoming arrows from two flanking groups of Goblins failed to hit a single target. Considering the number of goblins on level two were ten times the number on level one, we decided not to run level three. Mercenaries who live a long time know when to back off.

Wealthy and High-Ranked (Famous) Weapons would sometimes put in specific requests for items of a particular sort, and given their high profile (and cash or Silver positions) it was hard to ignore them. The Bitch had a standing order for anything Healer related, and had financial backers that could have outbid anyone anyways. The Hammer was always fun to deal with. A former Euro-trash movie star with a GoalFundMe page that brought in literally millions of dollars in cash as his patrons seemed to want to watch him super-charge his body or weapon. Rumor was that he’d whore himself out for an event (or private evening!) if your donation was big enough. He should have moved into politics.

One American Weapon who was referred to by the media as The Hero had a number of very specific and unusual requests for both curses or cursed objects, and objects with a blood requirement or effect. His payment was never in cash or Silver, but in other items or the very valuable experience he could offer by simply bringing you along for the ride on one of his Very Deep Level portal runs. He was the first person I’d ever corresponded with who was known to be beyond level 12. We never met until after Jimmy went on a portal dive with him, trading it for a “Blood Bond Token” he had won on our last dive into the Blue portal. We had actually gone to level two on our last run (similar, but much, much larger than level one).

Just the two of them entered a purple portal and were gone nine and a half days. Jimmy came back all beat to hell and missing almost all of the gear he went in with (and two teeth). He never spoke to anyone of what he had seen, how deep they had gone, or what he had done during that dive, but he publicly announced to the team that he would not be going pro after he returned, despite having leveled-up twice during that run alone.

“That guy was the honest goods, he could do shit that blew my mind. I didn’t even touch one in a hundred of the enemies we found in there ... maybe not even one in a thousand.” was the only thing we got out of Jimmy, and that was almost a month after he got back.

A recommendation like that was all I had been looking for. I suggested that Jimmy invite him back up for a “May 24” backyard barbecue at my place, never expecting that he’d show up but hoping he might. He did, bringing along a pretty (but remarkably young) brunette who was his team Healer (and more, by the look of it).

Even though they had just been introduced as ‘Jason and Catherine’ even John recognized them. My teammates mostly took it in stride as we could all talk shop, but both Seneca and Ashley were awestruck by the two of them. Ash eventually got over it and timidly asked the big guy if he could cut her a marshmallow stick from the brush out back. Perhaps he’d had this kind of request before, but before I knew it, he’d drawn a bloody huge axe out and effortlessly cut down not only a dozen marshmallow sticks, but also a small scrub Maple tree growing wild in the back, measuring it correctly for her height then neatly trimmed it to staff-length with just a few simple swipes and ‘signed’ it by scratching his name into it with his fingernail!.

It’s still one of her prized possessions.

Before they left, I took him alone (at my insistence) to the safe downstairs. Opening it for the first time in almost a year since I’d closed it, we both just stared at the contents.

“I’ve seen some things ... that might fit in some of that stuff...” he said quietly. His slow, calm way of speaking at total odds to my heart rate. “You haven’t said anything about these to anyone; have you?”

“No, I just couldn’t figure out how to...” I replied, once I could.

“I can’t publish pictures of them, I can’t sell them, and I can’t stand having it here. Would you take them?” I asked in one big rush. These weighed on my mind still, and I just wanted to be out from under the pressure of owning them. This guy was a leader of our people, and he’d earned that title from what I could discern. Reaching out his hand, they all just disappeared.

“You want anything for these?” He asked quietly again. I shook my head, just happy to be getting rid of them. “I’ll bury them deep...” he intoned, and I understood that they were now his problem, one way or the other. “Anything else?”

I thought about the keys, three keys that could open anything, anywhere, at any time.

“How about this?” I asked, showing off (a bit) and tossing him the ring with its two blackened tarnished keys, and three dull unused ones.

He stored it, read the description and surprisingly laughed and tossed them back to me.

“Awesome! I bet a friend of mine that you’d gotten some awesome Skill after I saw video of the freeway shot you made on that Skeleton.” he said, surprising me with his knowledge of my history. This guy was not simply a muscle-bound meathead. His eyes widened a bit. “ ... and you’re the one behind the buyer who will pick up high-level restricted goodies for pennies on the dollar! Frickin’ clever girl!” he said looking into my eyes with a big smile.