Chapter 190

Chapter 190

Kid Rocks muffled, highly processed voice screamed pseudo-rap into my ear. Which led me to the next inevitable question.

What fucking year was it?

With Kinsleys door, there was a sense of movement. Moving from one room to the next. It didnt matter that the rooms were far apart, because you still felt that transition, that forward momentum carrying you from point A to point B.

Traveling through the portal on the other hand, was disorienting, verging on disturbing. There was no sense of passage. One moment, you were walking into the portal. The next, you were standing still, staring into the yellow-stained porcelain abyss of a broken commode. It felt like blacking out. Losing time.

My thoughts were jumbled, disorderly. I had a hard time remembering what I was doing and why I was here. I couldnt stop thinking about what would have happened if there was someone in the bathroom occupying the same space I just appeared in.

Maybe thats why they sent you to the broken stall, genius.

Oh good. was talking to me again. At least Nick didnt

I scrambled out of the stall, nearly tripping over my own feet until the open arm of a yellowing, cracked baby changer saved me. I needed to get out of the way before Nick appeared in the same place.

Jesus, I really needed to ask someone if telefragging was a thing.

Carefully, trying to mentally and physically reset, I threw the door open and walked out. The muffled bass grew sharper, but only just, and the scent of mildew, vomit, and liquor washed over me. There was a small bar housing only a dozen stools, with several booths along the left-hand side. At least five heavy-set men in a varying selection of baseball and cowboy hats turned my way. A sixth sat next to the jukebox, fiddling with a handful of quarters. Their suspicious gazes lingered on me for a moment too long, then turned away, settling on where Keith and Halima sat at the bar.

They looked old enough to join the army, but a bit too young to drink. Keith was clutching his wand beneath the bar, his knee bouncing up and down. Halima looked etched from stone.

Nick exited a moment later, nodded towards the door. Keith jumped off the stool immediately and followed him, Halima falling in behind them while I took up the rear.

A notification prompt popped open.



Quest: Ancient Blueprint

Initial Objective: Gain entrance to the Gilded Tower.The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

Primary Objective Acquire at least twenty planners from ripples on the lower tower floors.

Secondary Objective Acquire as many planners as possible.

Tertiary Objective Avoid direct conflict in the tower and keep a low profile.

Threat Level: ???

EXP GAIN (M)

Time Limit: One Day

Reward: Selve, Hasturs Favor, Market Credit (Variable.)

Fuck. What to do? We couldnt fail this mission. Without knowing exactly what Hastur wanted the planners for, it would look bad and draw attention I didnt want. At the very least, we needed the minimal amount. But I didnt like the way the secondary objective was worded. More problematic, there were other teams from the order in play. I didn't know if they were looking for the same thing, or something more critical.

I needed to create problems for the Order on a large scale that didnt immediately point to me, while succeeding in my mission, without succeeding too much.

Sometimes, I missed the scantron days.

We pushed open the doors out into the street. Miraculously, it was even louder outside the bar. Id thought, given the theme park aesthetic, that the party-land bustle of region five would die down some after dark.

Not so much. They just doubled down on the torches.

It had a sweatier, hammering feeling beneath the moon. More like a nightclub than a theme park. Masses of bodies, dancing to a drum-heavy beat. A woman in glowing neon body paint and peacock regaliaan outfit that narrowly dodged blatant cultural appropriation, only by appropriating literally everything into an unrecognizable amalgampaused as she passed by us, offering a tray furnished with colorful asymmetrical bottles complete with curly straws.



Several dozen messages arrived, one after another, each berating me for not reaching out sooner or bringing me up to speed. Apparently, Cameron was awake and pissed. Hed tried to muscle his way out and had to be gassed. Kinsley wasnt taking any chances with the containment. Not long after, Miles came looking for me and shed fed him a line. According to her, he probably bought it. Probably.

The latter brought up a pain point I still didnt know how to deal with yet.

While the three-way altercation between the Ordinator, his unidentified companion, and the feds had bought me time, Miles was going to get suspicious, eventually. If I could use Azure from a distancefind some sort of mana battery that would let him keep his form for an extended period separate from methat would more or less solve the problem.

But Id relay that later. I had something more incendiary in mind.





I made a mental note to get that story from her later. I couldn't imagine someone getting that far into a vocation so early in the game, unless they had some sort of specialized background that translated.







:( >



then. Im just gonna set up a nice, very well guarded lab in another region.>









I was banking a lot on faith. That Hastur would wait, hoping I would come around despite the disruption. He seemed desperate. And it took far longer than usual for desperate people to cut and run. I could only hope it was the same for gods.

In the meantime, I played the role the Overseer created for me. I crafted the message as quickly as I could, checked it three times, then sent it off. It was like writing an essay. An utterly psychopathic, problematic essay, but when you broke them down to their parts, all essays are the same.

Without missing a beat, I turned to Nick. Not trying to step on your toes here, but wouldnt it be better if we split up a bit?

Nicks eyebrows narrowed. Never split the party

Im just talking initially. We enter separately, meet back up in whatever this gilded erection has for a lobby, split back up on the exit.

Nick considered that, then nodded. Smart. Better for optics. Never know who could be watching. Gonna go up front, keep the kids in the middle. You good to take up the rear?

Done. I slid back through the line, ending up behind a couple of tough guys who sneered at me when I flagged down a shirtless man in a kilt for one of the festive-looking drinks on his tray. It gave me an excuse to move backwards in the line, and to be honest, I kind of enjoyed the potential visual it created.

Then I waited. If Miles was as smart as I thought, hed figure it out with time to spare.

Twenty minutes later, just as I reached the front of the line, Cooks head snapped up. He dropped the stub of his churro and took several steps forward, brow furrowed as he searched the sea faces with more intensity than before.

Eventually, his gaze landed on me.

I took a tiny suck from the looping straw, and flipped him the bird.