Slumrat Rising

Truth ran out into the club. Club staff were running over to the VIP booth with large sheets hanging from curtain rods. In seconds, they had the whole booth cordoned off. Truth burst through, the young idiot on the ground and frothing at the mouth. The party girls huddled against the back of the couch, looking shocked.

Truth took one look and whipped out a few bone slivers from their case. “Anybody spell him?”

“I got a detox off, but it’s not taking.” A guard replied.

“Not good.” Truth grunted and with intense reluctance, jabbed the expensive reagents into the “high flyer’s” wrists and neck. The young man puked once convulsively, but then his breathing steadied and his color slowly improved.

“One of you want to tell me exactly what happened in the three minutes I wasn’t here?” Truth asked in a calm, reasonable voice. One of the girls dropped her purse.

“We didn’t do anything!”

“It’s not our fault! He did it! I don’t even do snow!”

There was more in this vein. Truth just waved them down. “Look, I don’t care. I really, really don’t care. I just want to figure out what he took so I can figure out how to treat him without having to take him to a hospital. Also, if he’s buying bad gear, we need to know that too, OK? Look at me. I’m not even mad.”

“Are you sure you aren’t mad? Because you kind of look mad.”

“I am irritated, but not angry. See? I am speaking in a very calm and reasonable way. What. Did. He. Do?”

They had a whispered consultation in the back of the booth, then one elected herself spokeswoman. “So, Charlie is just, like, this guy we know? But just to, like, party or whatever?”

“I know. I was in the carriage when he picked you up four hours ago. What happened three minutes ago?”

Charlie was getting a little more color on his face, which was good, but also gently pissing himself, which was bad. Truth was wearing a brand new suit, and he had some traumatic memories about shifting bodies.

The girl wrinkled an admittedly attractive nose. Truth suspected Charlie would no longer find her available to “party.” “He got out some junk he said he got from an awesome shaman he knew. He had a whole story about how she was, like, this really connected and in-tune person who could make some really magical stuff, or whatever? Anyway, he chopped out some lines, and he snorted the first one. Before we could have any, he freaks out, starts yelling about, like, lizards or something? And then he falls over. That’s really it. Are you going to call us a carpet now, or do I have to get one myself?”

“Why don’t you hang out a minute longer. Finish your drink.” Truth said commandingly. He looked over at the club staff. “We have it from here. If you called an ambulance, cancel it.” They nodded and left. He looked at the junior guards. “Pack him up, get him home. Run counter curses. See what you can figure out by looking at the drugs. He’s got ten grams of ‘corn horn in him, he’ll pull through.”

He turned back to the girls, who hadn’t touched their drinks. Which was convenient. Horribly.

“Alright ladies, here’s the deal.” Truth reached into another interior pocket and pulled out a small vial. He put a drop of potion in each glass. This was a nice club, so the spell on the glasses immediately turned them bright blue. The girls went pale. “You can either drink up and wake up tomorrow in your own beds with no memory of tonight but a nice chunk of extra cash in your purses. Or you can wake up tomorrow in… other circumstances. Maybe I’m the one with a nice chunk of surprise money. But either way, remember that Starbrite owns this club. Nobody saw shit. Nobody is going to hear shit. Nobody is going to do shit. So. What’s it going to be?”

Truth spent most of the next week at home. He turned down a few jobs, claiming that he needed to spend more time with his family. Which he did. Vig and Soph were happy to have him around, of course. They made a big fuss about how much they liked the suit. A lot of encouraging pats on the back.

Sophia had made it to the nationals in the Beastcrafting tournament, but her journey would end in the first round. She just wasn't ready this year, and was going to get killed. She was resolved to go down swinging anyway. She seemed to exist in only three places- home, the lab, and the library. Vigor was only marginally better, replacing the lab with the gym. His first few competitions hadn't been stellar. Not terrible, he had won some rounds, but not exactly lighting the world on fire either. They both seemed to be thriving. Though they were giving him some worried looks.

“Really, guys, I’m fine. I’m the world’s most highly paid babysitter.” He protested.

“Yeah, some babies.” Vigor shook his head.

“Any chance of running off with the boss’ sixteen-year-old daughter?” Sophie joked. Though she looked disturbingly hopeful when she asked.

“I have been specially trained by experts not to do that.”

“Shame. You… really need a break, bro. You really do.” She sighed.

He was about to argue and then deflated.

“They have me out there as the face of the department. It’s exhausting. I’m going to run a few more little jobs, just round out the year. Then, yeah, vacation. I’ll take a look at your school schedule. Maybe we can all go somewhere warm.”

“Can you really afford a tropical vacation?” Vigor asked. “I know you are spending a ton on our school stuff and elixirs and everything.”

Truth just laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I can just about cover it. For you guys, this ain’t nothing. Now go hit the books!”

Excessive amounts of bodyguarding later-

“Alright, the last twelve protectees weren't great. But this time, it’s a dog. I like dogs. I haven’t spent a lot of time around dogs, but the dogs I have met were great.” Truth thought. For some reason, this dog was flying first class along with Truth. Not the owner. The owner was taking a very important meeting and required that Mr. Floofels (or whatever the dog’s name was) be delivered in perfect safety to her villa in Pureta Vicarro.

Truth picked the dog up, still in its crate, and took it to the airport. All good so far, for all that the crate was practically crawling with sigils, bindings, and protections. Security had a fit, but the first-class ticket and frequent flashing of his pin did seem to be persuasive. He had been worried about the dog barking, but apparently, the spells tranquilized it. Truth was asleep before the bird flapped off the runway.

Truth did not remember his dreams, not a single one. He must dream, he knew, everyone does, but for him, they were gone entirely when he awoke. Lucid dreaming was a completely foreign concept. Which is why he lacked the appropriate language to describe what happened next.

Truth was in a luxury apartment, glass walls looking out high above Harban City. He was in the living room, sitting on the couch and wearing silk pajamas. There were a couple of cartons of takeout food on the table, half-eaten. Sitting on the couch with him was a lovely woman in her own silk pajamas. Not too much or too little of any one thing, she was just… lovely. And she had a wolf’s head. Not some sort of anthropomorphic, cartoonish head. An actual, very real, fur-covered, wolf’s head.

“It's nice, you know?” She asked. Her voice was quite normal. And lovely. But the wolf’s lips didn't move, even though her eyes narrowed and her ears twitched with amusement. “Most of the time, people have big, elaborate plans for me. Like a whole tasting menu of the flesh. The girlfriend experience is very popular and common, but even then, they have a detailed notion about what the “girlfriend” or “boyfriend” should be like. But you don’t even want the roleplay. You just want me. Here. With you. With you knowing that you are safe. Knowing that you are a safe person for me, and your own damaged weirdness won't ruin things. Knowing that you can finally just rest. It’s nice.”

“Am I? Safe?” Truth wondered. She giggled.

“Aw, honey. Look at me. A wolf and your best girl? You know what that is right? And humanity’s never had a better friend.” That wasn’t reassuring, and she seemed to pick up on that straight away. “You are as safe as anyone can be in a dream. I’m barely getting a trickle of you through all the spells and wards around the two of us, and really, it’s just because I’m bored. My Mistress keeps me very well fed. I have no interest in hurting you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Oh.” Truth was a little sad to learn that it was a dream, but that did make sense. He didn’t know any girls with wolf heads.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You are here. I am here. We are here together. And I know you don’t want to really do anything with me, but… wanna watch a movie and eat takeout?”

It turned out he did. Truth didn’t recognize the movie, and his companion wasn’t chatty. They just sat comfortably with each other and enjoyed some pretty ok food. She felt so warm next to him. Truth felt very conflicted when he woke up.

He transported the cage to a very swank-looking villa with both a swimming pool and sea views. Everything white walls and terracotta tile roofs. The client swept out of the house and, ignoring Truth, opened the cage. Black smoke poured out, forming a seven-foot-tall muscle-bound mountain of a man. With a wolf’s head.

“Darling! Come. I have missed you so much. Was the flight very terrible?” She hauled him into the house without ever looking at Truth. The wolf, however, caught his eye before vanishing inside. And winked.

“Captain, any chance I can transfer to something a bit more… not bodyguarding?” Truth asked. Really making an effort not to whine.

“Why? You have been making serious cash, your reviews are all outstanding, and your lack of bitching about how awful your protectees are is a source of wonder for the entire PMC.” The Captain looked mystified.

“Because they are awful. And because I am slowly losing my mind with their idiocy. Not to mention the crippling boredom.”

“Boring is good. Enjoy being bored. Treasure it. You know what the alternative is, right?” She asked urgently.

“Yes Ma’am, I do. But over the course of… I don’t even know how long. Two eternities. I have met exactly one protectee I was actually willing to take a spell for, and that’s not a great trait in a bodyguard.”

“Ah. No. Was it Doctor Calderine? I thought that was great, you getting to work with such a famous philanthropist.” The Captain was curious.

“He was actually one of the better ones, but no. Let's not focus on the “who I’d save” question. Instead, let’s focus on almost anything else.”

“You could take a vacation? Have you had one since joining Starbrite? I don’t want you to burn out.”

“I haven’t. Not including the time on the hospital ship, anyway. But also not my point. I’m happy to work. I want to work. I just want to work with other people. Not with crazy rich idiots.”

The Captain rolled her eyes at that one. “Tough ask. Those are some of our best clients, and they are doing great things for our PR. Actually, though, I did have a request for a security team for a convoy. No one higher than Level Two, for reasons not adequately explained to me. Want to take a look at the contract?”

Truth smiled blissfully. “I would like nothing better. It sounds great,” Truth said, as fate tied on its cleats and figured out exactly where it was going to kick him.

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