The Vultures are swarming Metroplex 1 faster than expected. Much faster. As chaos begins to increase, Goblin deals with the realization that his own particular brand of chaos is possibly a calculated factor. Now, can he figure out just how before he winds up dead?

Hour 3: Collateral Damage and the Bodega

According to Genny: Hob, Bug, and I collectively hold one of the highest success rates in Arkyu's entire menagerie of playthings and broken souls. Even before Hob went off into the neon-bright dark to shores unknown, our trio was known for being the punching bags of Capital-F-ate. There tends to be collateral...complications...involved.

Five years back, Hobgoblin and I were assigned to get into a bougie hotel that promised high security for tourists and, in order to make tourists feel welcome, gave out affordable rates, with less security, to certain locals who could reasonably be expected to bring up their own security. The idea was that some locals would show off, and tourists would get a show. Not all the tourists survived, which really helped to drive the ratings up for their dinner-and-a-show brand.

I will not be giving them free publicity. Locals will just know it rhymes with Broke Tea Prostate.

A Juanita Sanz, up from somewhere around the Yucatan, was staying there on the local dime despite being from the buttfuck edge of this hellshite. A now rich-as-God's-ass edge since we are talking about folks up and personal with all the terrible things going on around the Chicxulub event. I don't know. You don't know. Neither of us want to know.

She was carrying, like an idiot, a bit of stone. While it is practically impossible it was part of the rock itself, it seemed to have a certain magnetism towards Soulburn. She had set into a goddamned ring. The kind you wear on your finger. One that was too dangerous to actually wear because every hedge mage in The GLOW might consider it worth trying to kill her to get that stone.

We had a different task in mind: break it. Before it could be used to trigger an imbalance. Señorita Sanz was 40. Married to a 60-year-old man with limp dick. Local divorce laws meant she would get less than a tenth with the pre-nup in place. So most of her trips were to get far enough way that her indiscretions were passably honorable.

This is where Hob came in. She favored the tall, dark, and sleek look. He was going to get them both drunk, rail her in at least three non-discreet and therefore alibi-inducing locations, and tie her up. Literally, but mostly figuratively. By the time she had realized that I had broken into her room, Bug had wrecked the security, and I had destroyed the ring, well...well, she hopefully wouldn't realize for a bit. We had a replica and everything.

Right as I on the cusp of laying out some "just-in-cases" on her balcony, a boy dropped in my lap. Not just any boy, the son of Roger Patel. The Raj's kids had taken up the Patel legacy. The son, Devansh, was a shithead that got too drunk and fucked around, but was largely good for morale. The daughter, Amelia, was hellfire. Both are gone, now. Amy, the little Amy, ended up struck by a truck while trying to murder some second cousin once removed or some shit.

Turns out this was an early test run of family-cide. She had a hit on her lovably assholish and elder brother Dev planned and it nearly worked except the idiots she hired had tossed him left instead of straight and so rather than plunge into the parking lot he plunged into a balcony three stories down.

I didn't hesitate. I called for Bug to clear, sent Hob a message to get out of the place, and then B and I, we dashed to the stairs, and I blew my just-in-cases early and hoped it would be enough to take out the ring. It was, so we got paid. Our screw-suits prevented ServiSynth drones from identifying who was carrying the nearly lifeless body of Dev Patel, and other ServiSynths had recorded him just having a normal amount of debauchery before folks in locust-masks had tried to introduce him to more gravity than meatsacks can withstand.

It was later than I found out that The Raj had asked Arkyu to help save his boy. A task she had seemingly failed to put any operative on...unless...

At any rate, Dev lived and we got paid for two jobs. Last year, Dev got a Marius girl pregnant and the two bounced for high water. Bless them. Depriving Raj of any proper criminal-empire type heirs but netting him a pretty baby grandson, according Arkyu.

The Raj retired. Got out of town to live his days being a doting Pop-pop.

His sister, the one and only Amy Patel Sr, is back fully in control of the Patel fortune again after returning on a decades-long walkabout. God have mercy on our puny souls. Nineteen charities she runs with an iron fist and zero dirt has ever surfaced as far as I know, but she scares me in a way I cannot explain.

I'm thinking about these things as we are scooting through halls looking for any sort of sign of where on the 54th floor Ratfuck might be interned. Is this an Amy or a Dev situation? Boss Alice. The Red Queen herself has sent us here but is she hoping we increase or decrease the body count? Off with their heads or their heads? Whose heads are we supposed to be chopping like good little cards?

I call out to Bugbear to stop and then I dial up a name on my list, Li'l Timmie, who in reality is around 200kg and taller than Bug, and I leave a message because LT doesn't answer this particular line: "Oh man, I know it's on the nose but you got me in a right pinch. Shit, wish we could turn back time, too, but up to 3am is too much. Anyhow, bird in the hand and all that, hit me up..."

That seeming nonsense finished, I hang up. Then I put my right hand on my nose, pinch my nostrils shut, turn three times widdershins, and then in my left hand, using the pinky of my still clasped right hand, draw a nine-line shape that roughly looks like a bird if you allow an eight-year-old to draw out tribal symbols.

Somatic encryption in place, I pull up an unknown caller and say, simply, nasally because of the nose situation, "200nu. Boss Alice and Arkyu. Let me know the link and angles. 100nu bonus if you can get me this in an hour from right now. 50 if if within two. Might not make it if it is past three."

I then pull my hand off my nose and clap both together three times, clearing the SomEn.

The gunshots ring out right at the end of my claps and it catches me off guard. Then the screams follow. A different sort of gunfire. Shit, bang-bang bullets + aether-shot. At least two shooters. No, new round is a different caliber. At least three.

Bugbear pulls out his gun and we both glance up and down our hall and then one of the cross-hallways. It's like looking at a maze by a person who hates getting lost. Right angles into right angles until your eyes get a bit watery trying to find the distance. An emulation of suburb blocks planned out by a computer with autism. Precise counts. Only, you know, covered in shit and trash and spray painted to high-heaven.

Down the second cross-hallway we look, gunshots - we are up to at least five distinct shooters now but some of that could be Rabbits shooting back - a door slams open and a shirtless Rabbit jumps out. Takes one look at Bugbear holding a gun - and that stupid Christmas gift - and opens fire.

Bugbear easily shoots the shirtless dude before the man could aim anywhere near us, but the dual gunfire is super fucking loud in the hall. I hear more doors being unlatched and someone shouts, "ARRY!," and Bugbear and are I are moving.

Screams and death both bark out behind us as we dive into a bodega which is a) open on Christmas, b) still staffed despite the gunfights going on, and c) seems to have customers that are not Rabbits. Bug and I head back and dive down behind a row of snacks into a floor that has to be covered in piss or their cleaning supplies have gone to shit, and try to hope the fatfuck and very armed Rabbit behind the counter doesn't decide to just pop us on general principle. A very smart general principle.

Whether or not he is moving around to find a shot, I don't know, because I hear a couple of voices shouting something about "SLUG SLURP" and demanding some sort of access to "the closet" before more gunfire erupts.

Aether-shot erupts and I see one of the Vultures slam into the window not far from where Bug and I are poorly hiding. The other says something like, "You a 22-zip bitch!," before another round of gunfire silences him. For some reason, Bugbear winces more at the phrase than the gunfire or death. I give him a questioning look and he just shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

Ah, meme shit.

By now the fatfuck is saying that we need to stand the fuck up right now and get out his store or get shot and part of me is torn. I'm curious to know what this closet is but also whoever the man is, he just took down two other armed combatants at speed.

I look around and one of the customers, a fat man about my own age drinking what appears to be a iced, unsweet tea - unsweet tea in The GLOW? goddamned blasphemy - and I am shocked he seems so entirely unconcerned. He sees me looking and nods in my direction.

"WE ARE COMING! DON'T SHOOT!", Bugbear shouts, holding his gun down and behind his back, present up.

"YEAH MAN, WE WERE JUST VISITING TO GIVE OUR KIDS SOME GIFTS!," I shout.

The other customers and ourselves are filtering out and the fatfuck Rabbit, nametag reading Zihan, is aiming a custom-built aether-pistol at us like he is thinking of shooting anyhow to work through some unresolved childhood trauma. "Gifts, man. Thanks for taking out those Vulture fucks," I say. Not sure if it's a good idea to let spoil I know the gang in question.

I look back to see if Captain Unsweet is with us, but he is nowhere to be seen.

I hate this fucking town.

A 30-year-old woman who looks like a banker that had been out all night and just trying to find smokes on her way home takes off at speed and makes it three crossways down before she slams back into a cloud of blood as another Vulture comes around the corner, also seeming to be bee-lining for the bodega.

Bugbear and I move through the frightened into statues civvies...

...I grab the nearest person to me, an older man on the edge of hyperventilating, and sprint to the next right-angle hallway. Bugbear right with me. I let the old man go and shout for him to run. There were three others left behind and the gunfire behind me says bad things are afoot, but you can't save them all.

Not even for pay.

Hour Four: Upstairs Just as Bad as Downstairs

A bit later we are done with trying to dodge out of the way of the constant firefights between Rabbit and Vulture kind and push our way into a stairwell to head up to five-five when we come face to face with...

...three Rabbit thugs come from the floor above. They stare at us. Us on the bottom step and them on the landing. They with guns out. Bugbear is trying to keep his hidden. We are both holding up our stupid mock-up gifts like a badge of dishonor.

The leader, a woman with bright magenta pigtails and wearing rabbit ears, shouts at us to get out of their way as the three start to run past. "Get em Vulty fooks!," a short, latino man behind her shouts. His only rabbit-themed gear is a huge stopwatch hanging from his neck. The third, well, she's dressed like a wizard from a roleplaying game. Only her blue robes have little rabbit faces on them instead of stars. She even has a pointy hat. And piercings. She's cute. Ah, to be young again.

It's her I aim for as the three rush out into the hall...

...grabbing hold of her stupid robes, I yank back right as Bugbear slams the door shut. It's like the funny lady in that superhero move said, "No capes!" In this case, no robes.

Only, right as I'm pulling Ms. Wizard back, her stupid pointed hat flies off and her gun discharges and somehow, almost magically, slams into the fire alarm lever. Non-slip fire suppression foam starts spraying down to help keep the stairwells clear. Only it hits the hat which causes it to spray widely and catches an AED device and sparks are flying everywhere as the lights start flickering and bulbs blow.

Shit goes dark before emergency lights hit.

I'm looking down at this poor girl's face. She might be part of a violent group of thugs but she is also not much older than Jullie.

I put all my eggs into a potentially broken basket as Bugbear is trying to find a way to keep the door shut as Ears and Stopwatch are shooting its heavy fire-proof frame to get to their friend.

"Gob, I got the door jammed but it's made to get itself unstuck in case of a fire. It'll open itself in a few seconds."

I look right in Ms. Wizard's eyes. "Can you take us to find Ratfuck? Alice's mom sent us and we are trying to keep your boss alive."

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