James's Descent Ch. 09

*

"This is kinda like that time you ran that game for us. Just... for real."

James and Phoebe were clad in armor and stepping through the jungle with relative ease. They did not expect an attack so soon, but one should always be careful. This was no real struggle... but rather a very elaborate LARP so they got that adventure itch out of them. Their combo was simple... she hits, he shoots. The outsider was decent enough with that revolver, valuing its speed above its stopping power. Nathan was not here because the guy could solo encounters that they might get dominated in.

"I think you mean the game I wanted Pam to run for us."

"And you pretty much took over after twenty minutes."

"Hey, she was not doing a good job. And the whole trying to make me a god in her fantasy world was a bit too much."

He stopped. A sound alerted the man to company. That was a prompt for Phoebe to shut up as well and silently reach for her weapon. James focused on the source... animals usually gave no shits about their noise, unless they were hunting them... but the man heard something akin to grass being pressed down. He focused on the memory to locate it, and all he had was the vague direction to their ten o'clock. With his right hand slowly drawing his gun, his head nodded in the direction that Phobe should go.

Stalking through the jungle, looking for a thing halfway between dragon and snake, aware that it might be hunting them as much as they were doing so. This was not a pleasant monster to hunt, but the PRIIIIIZE.... Technically, they could enjoy these pleasures freely in other areas, but here you had to pay for them, if only because doing so gave such a greater value. James would have preferred a life-size version of Skyrim to wander about in... he played that game so much that he might as well have a detailed map of it. Or almost. He also hated the heat... jungle is wet heat, the worst variety of the two... because you can't sweat to reduce body heat.

The thoughts of all they could buy with the bounty money were the only thing keeping them cool even as they approached a possibly disease-ridden dragon that had the worst possible breath type... mosquito breath. Phoebe advanced with a determined stillness, even though she was clad in plate, she knew how to move to not make a single sound. Slowly she peered back the vegetation to reveal... a fallen fruit. False alarm again.

But before the man could breathe a sigh of relief, that sense of his told him to explode in violence. Only one place to be... how did this thing sneak up on them? He turned and fired before even seeing the target, blasting a tooth straight off the huge creature, the man jumping backward to have his companion rush to engage it in melee. It was big, it was green, it was long, and it had eight legs on which it padded around remarkably quickly, four of those rising to claw at the woman and meeting a thick shield before her sword would thrust right beside it and into its chest. Once the man regained his footing, he proceeded to unload into the thing both to give Phoebe a good window to keep the pressure... and because he hated to run on imprecise loads. Quick reload and he'd resume his three-shot combo, stable enough to maintain precision and hit much more vulnerable areas. Another combo and Phoebe would push harder until he reloaded again, the process repeating as mosquitoes buzzed at them, as teeth slammed into her armor and pierced flesh... they were going to need some healing after this.

One minute, but it was an intense minute until the beast lost inertia and began to flail more than fight. Keep the pressure up and that final, decisive shot made it finally crumple to the ground. One hard-to-pronounce monster dead. Its braincase should be proof enough of the deed, even if it was unnecessary.

"Phew!" The man finally could breathe normally.

"Ugh. I am not taking one of these again. Pretty sure I just caught half of the diseases of the world. Bet we're gonna need to pay a cleric a lot for this."

"I thank you immensely for not having to be up close to that thing. Next three drinks are on me."

They'd often trade these drinks, but the count between them was lost a long time ago. There was no treasure to find back at a lair with this thing, why the bounty was so high. Finally, they could step out of the jungle and towards the city, a walk that would take a couple of days.

"Hey, Phoebe. Can I ask you a big, important question?"

"Only if I can answer it with only as much as I know."

"I can take that deal." Beat. "If you knew our people back in Astoria were... not doing well... mostly because later ones forgot everything I fucking taught them... at the almost certain possibility that helping them would turn you into a horrible monster that would just torture them later... would you help them or just let them die?"

"I'd let them die."

She did not even pause to consider it. Her answer was instant. James was taken aback more by that than her choice.

"Better to die than keep suffering, right? I mean, if it serves no purpose, no meaning, no... reward. If it's all just pain, then fucking end it. And it sounds like the second one is just the worse choice for them."

Nathan said the same. No doubt Lucy would also agree with this... and Anna... and probably Pam as well... and everyone he met here. No, the logical conclusion was, however you took it, that choosing that was a bad idea. The woman lit herself a cigarette, an allowed anachronism in this fantasy world... not the cigarette, but the gas lighter.

"But that's not your question. It's not what I would do or anyone else. It's what you would do. And I know you. James would stride in there giving no fuck to that risk. You'd fix things for them, give an even stronger warning on why they should not fucking do that... and then you'd try to fight that other thing. Lock yourself away, kill yourself, or just... tell it to fuck off."

"I'm actually thinking that I should listen to you guys."

"No, you're not. You know your way and defy even us. And this... this.... This.... Is why were fucking worshipped you. Or at least me. I saw a guy who wouldn't give up on me no matter what, even if I was a nobody he didn't remember. You'd do the same for everyone in our community even if you had to be reminded of their name. It was just... everything. It was what I wanted in a god. A guy to stand for us no matter what. Even in the face of absolute bullshit. I know it... we were supposed to die in that final stand. Heck, I died... and you brought us back, brought us somewhere else... somewhere it could not reach us."

Way to give him a pep talk. No, she was right. This was James. The guy who tells the universe to fuck off with its rules because this is how things should be. And yet, rejection of reality, even if one could do it as a god... seemed impossible at that scale. Resisting the corruption of something infinitely his greater. The only tool that would help resist it would also be his weakness. A catch-22, a Morton's Fork or whichever equivalence to an unwinnable situation.

"I'm gonna keep thinking about it."

"Hey, for what it's worth... you're no less if you step back. Okay, maybe you're a bit less, but that's still miles above others. Sometimes you gotta step back." A pause and a drag. "But I know you... and you're not gonna."

"Didn't think I was so predictable."

"And next you're gonna make some joke about the situation before drawing attention to the fact that I've got more diseases than an undeveloped country."

So this is what Joseph's enemies felt like. Phoebe stared at her left arm where some unpleasant-looking boils were already growing. Yes, that looked bad. Yes, they should prioritize treating that before she vomits her entire digestive system. The man remembered there was a service not far, so they should take that detour.

But he'd keep thinking.

*

Year 316 AA.

On one side, Margaret should feel appalled at the news, on the other... there was a great degree of facts to support this decision. She sat in her modest living room as the TV was used to not only transmit this information, but convince them of its justification.

"Starting today, every regional border crossing can only be done after a thorough check for any Republic terrorists, and we remind you that in order to possess a firearm, one needs to pass the certification and security program. Any in possession of firearms without a permit will be treated as enemies of the state, as only the enemy wishes harm on our structures."

This was how liberty died. With collapsing buildings. She was not an imbecile... the woman understood that this was all a grand plan to strip them of their firearms. Oh, the grand rule is still there, you just need to pass an exam, then you need to make sure it's secure by locking it in a safe, and then to make sure it's secure you have to use one of the safes we have approved, which to be extra secure we require all manufacturers offer security means to open them in case enemies of the state use them. Every year, like clockwork, a new tragedy happened to motivate another such rule. A shooting in a public place leads to increased scrutiny of gun owners in general. All just a slope towards making them impossible to own. And yet she passed through all those hoops... and now...

A loud banging could be heard at her door. It was so violent that it made the woman make a beeline for the safe.

"Security! Open the door."

"For what?!" She shouted from across the room.

"Safety check. Refusing to comply is a violation of the 312 Act for safety."

Not everyone was so lost in the wealth and pleasure to be blinded by this... not everyone was so easily bought and distracted. The aging woman took a deep sigh. This was a stupid idea. No, it would end only in a particular way. But it had to end in that way. That is what he would have wanted. She turned up to see the one symbol here that would possibly be as illegal as an unregistered firearm, though it seemed like a registered one gave Security free reign to harass her. The eye fixed upon her wall was almost speaking to the woman. So few followers today... true ones. True Family was almost turned into a joke by that new cult.

The number pad was accessed and her semiautomatic rifle came out with a loud, alarming noise... clearly intended to clue them into what she was doing. Always loaded. Boots would start to slam upon her door, but she had a bit of extra put in to deter such an idea. She smiled... the smile of one that will enjoy this. The outsider was right... this... felt fantastic. And it was the right thing.

No time to enjoy it. She'd come before the door and give just a bit of wait for that final piece of wood to come apart, the face of the Security officer coming from behind it with an intent to destroy this notion. But an idea cannot be killed.

"Defiance is sacred."

Her last words were glorious. The security officer also died. This act would not become public knowledge. Any mention of her was verboten, any acknowledging of this was seen as treason. The only use she was to the state was to enact a new rule.

"In the wake of extremist attacks by religious zealots, starting today all followers of the Cult of the Outsider are to be detained, either for conversion or execution."

Tomorrow's news would make more defiance flare up. The process was slow. Soften them with riches, take their toys one bit at a time, and invite them into this cage for safety until you lock them in for that same safety. Those who give up their freedom for safety deserve neither... and will receive neither. The Communist Union would become exactly what every other attempt at this had become in the past... demolishing any shred of religion because you can't have people with anything to rally around beyond the state, the homes were put to the torch or demolished and any mention of any "magical abilities" one had in them was to be treated as either treason or insanity... but usually treason as it was easier to kill them. Most might say that you can't just keep killing people until you have order... or you end up with a wasteland, but eventually... people get the message... and a disarmed populace finds their only choice to even have a chance to go on... is to do what they asked. James might suggest they go and die anyway in an exercise of defiance, leaving the state with nothing.

There was a veneer of civilization, an easily pierced image, constructed to show that the Union was actually the greatest place upon New Astoria to live on, while the other countries starved and pleaded for their great products that every citizen had the right to... but it was the same as in any state where power is used to funnel all the gains towards the top.... Those at the bottom barely got enough to go on and were lawfully forced to work. The Age of Decadence was in full swing and all but a few suffered. And its leaders knew that they had to prevent a revolution at all costs... their wealth, so carefully seized from others... should not leave them.

And voices started to cry out silently.

*

Year 323 AA.

"Your honor, this is clearly not my signature, as you can see here, it is an exact copy down to each shape to the one on my housing contract."

It was common... to have people forge your signature to draw loans. What was less common was for people to realize just how bad things were. The truth was as he stated, but the man in the robe would not declare it so.

"All you're showing me is that you signed that document. Case dismissed, you owe the First Bank not only your loan in full, but their attorney fees."

A temptation to lash out was even more common. That's why the judge had more armed guards than a silver van. No, Kyle was smart enough to not do that here. His life was pretty much over... he knew the score. Here he comes finally dodging the scheme to keep them forever renting that the overlords come and try to milk him with this obvious scam... and they buy off the judge to make sure it stays so. What's a couple thousand silver compared to the five million they'll get? A drop in the bucket. They might do this again until government seized his house to pay the loans and he was back in eternal rent.

He had no way to pay this back and stay in any way stable... no, this was all so he had to keep chained to any job, whichever he managed, possibly two... As the man left the courthouse to step outside among the tall buildings of this major metropolis, it was like he was seeing it for the first time for what it was. For all this clean, boasting affluence... it was dirty to its core, it was horrid, it was unpleasant for all but a few. Might as well go out with a bang. He had no idea who did this to him... it might not even be the housing agency, they might have sold his signature to clean this up, and whoever they gave it to might not have used it, just a broker for such "merchandise" and they sold it to someone else who finally came and cashed in. Then, they kept a close watch on him to push another piece in place and secure their investment.

If only the world had a single Dark Lord controlling it all, if a knife thrust could solve it... or a fall down the stairs... how easy it would be. But it was not so... all a series of conspiracies, conflicting agendas, and petty jealousies, all building upon, feeding upon, and shitting into an unending web of crap that they have to swim through and call life. Well, Kyle decided to cash out. Maybe he couldn't give whoever got rich with his name their right rewards, but he had one target. Maybe it wasn't the bank... no, the guy doing it would not use THEIR bank. No doubt one of the dozens of competitors, who might call it a success even if the man got this thrown out... as they'd get away with three million.

But the judge might need a lesson in why they are elected as such. They are supposed to be an authority declaring the truth. When that truth is bought, then it has ceased to be so. Their authority is meaningless. No doubt security would catch him, and from this imprison him to work in the low-cost and forced labor program that got more and more people every year for the most petty of crimes. Last year they declared chocolate illegal due to health concerns and hundreds of people were arrested for having products containing it... even if they had been legal just months before. No, it was never about their health, it was about their pockets.

Tonight he'd quietly find this judge's house and break in, stabbing him to death and with it... himself... they will not squeeze any more silver out of him. No, the debt would be inherited by his relatives, if not... friends, if not... any last person to even be considered close. That was intentional... it broke up communities and made people vulnerable to corporate dominion. After all... why sell one washing machine when you could sell fifty of them?

Many would call this time one of great depression.

*

Year 325 AA.

The Republic was not like the rest. Nina was proud of that... and for the right reasons. As the boat slid through the night, her squad waited patiently for the signal. If they were to be declared "terrorists" and "warmongers" without it being so... why not go ahead and embrace it?

For all these years, they minded their business... it was harsh, they had to make some unpleasant decisions, but the Republic survived. Unlike Avalon and The Union, True Family was still held in great regard in their country, if not exactly as James would want it to be. One should be careful when they declare a people something because they might just go ahead and embrace it in full, becoming a bigger threat than the fabricated one you tried to achieve.

But their purpose was not terrorism, nor religious zealotry. Today's mission was simple. Raid a commercial warehouse of Avalon. While some might feel that robbing the rich and powerful would be a much more pleasant and bountiful task, but the rich had no central vault you could steal from, nor a big and imposing hoard to swim laps in. Their shield was everyone, as their assets were spread around in a thousand businesses, right beside the modest savings of grandmas and the working class, the rich and powerful had their hoards. And even if they robbed the rich, all they'd do is pass that loss over to the next sucker, raising interest rates, prices, lowering salaries... all in the name of "the economy". If the economy relies on greedy fuckers continuing their dominion, it deserves to die.

Their vessel would slide into Avalon waters with maximum subtlety. Spoofed satellite data, silent running, cloudy and moonless night, and just to make sure they'd have an inside agent cut the power to the whole block. Silenced guns and black operator outfits would make this a quick in and out. The time for enjoyment was later, the time now was for precision.

Darkness would take this section of the docks as they made the landing, twelve men rushing out with clear orders on where, what, and how to hit. They had no issue gunning the workers here... it might as well be a mercy compared to their lives here, and it would hurt these companies more. Silenced shots led to bodies falling with a wet plop, blood spreading in darkness. Bolt cutters would get the doors open as eight of them secured the perimeter, the bigger ship approaching to be loaded with as much as they could carry. No sirens... alarms were evolving and yet they kept ahead of the curve. Even those fancy motion detectors could be defeated with ultra-absorbent material.

Twenty minutes. The door was open, and the labeled crates inside were intended for businesses more than people. B2B was better than the client-oriented ones... bigger quantities and often bigger value as well. The soldiers turned into haulers, employing the warehouses's machines to load their raiding vessel. It was not as roomy as a commercial barge, but it could move much faster. That was decisive. Power was off, but most of these ran on gas. Thirty more minutes and the power might come back, shift managers would notice the slowdown... and security might be called. After so many raids, they were coming with Strong Response Teams straight. They'll be gone by then. Thirty minutes. No more. As the lights went on, the black-clad figures became obvious, the bodies noticeable from the street. They were loading their last containers already, slipping onto the ship to set off again. The boat would be retrieved and re-attached, but the breath of relief could not come yet. No, this was just the fun and intense part. Now they had to get out of Avalon waters with their bounty.