Slumrat Rising

There is one thing everyone knows about demon summoning. Even if you don’t know anything about demon summoning, you know this for the same reason you know not to have sex with a wasp’s nest. There are ideas so intuitively stupid and dangerous most people don’t need the logic spelled out. So even if you don’t know anything about demon summoning, you know you never, ever, summon fire and air demons at the same time.

But then, stupid and dangerous was exactly what Truth was going for. It wasn’t his dick in the nest. A pattern had been carved on the floor of the security room. Infernal glyphs curved along lines and forms whose madness became infectious. The talismans in the duffel had been carefully positioned, the blood of the bank’s defenders gently forced into the lines of the spell.

Thrush perched on a heavy needler on the arms rack. With a minor effort, its magic connected the deep wells of power inside the bank to the summoning formation. The instant the connection was made, it flew hard as it could back to Truth. It didn’t want to stand on the X any more than a human would.

It did bring the heavy needler with it, making sure to grab the one in the best condition. He knew his master, and sucking up to the boss was never dumb.

Truth was doing his best to stick and move, but the golem was built to handle high-level mages. It was keeping up fine, and every cut healed almost instantly. In theory, you could exhaust the magic in it, rendering it inert. In practice, it was connected to the Bank’s deep power reserves. Truth would tire long before the golem did.

“It is done, Great One.”

Truth grunted. He lunged for the Golem’s head. The golem didn’t block, taking the hit and used the opportunity to hack at Truth’s ribs. Incisive warned him it was coming in time, but the saber nearly caught him during his retreat anyway. The damn thing was fast.

There was a sudden overwhelming pressure stabbing into his ears, a boom so loud it became a physical thing. The pain was so crippling he nearly ate the golem’s kick. It didn’t have ears. Truth kicked off the ground hard, launching himself back as fast as he could go.

Abner’s Amble!

The spell loaded up. Each step launched him a dozen meters, giving him distance. The golem would be tethered to the vault, but Truth wasn’t going to hang around and figure out the range. He ran straight out of the building, across the street, and up the side of the building opposite it. The explosion had blown out a lot of windows. He went for one about halfway up, collapsing on the floor as he tried to get his breathing under control. Thrush settled in next to him, putting the heavy needler by his hand. Truth rolled onto his belly and crawled up to the exploded window. Floor-to-ceiling glass on the side of the building. No idea why it was so popular.

“Mission accomplished, master?”

Truth didn’t say anything, his attention held by the demons. The bank was on fire now. Surfaces carefully treated to be fireproof were glowing white hot, the air itself combusting. Some clever bastard demon had punched holes through the ventilation system, turning the whole building into a blast furnace.

Truth… didn’t know they could do that.

The noise was incredible. There must be other golems and fixed defenses in place, but he couldn’t hear them over the fire. And the smoke, God, the smoke! Poison, choking, black and brown and grey and blue, clouds of ash boiling out of the building and hunting for lungs to settle in. A lifetime of pain and weakness and poison to gift to the “survivors.” Truth could see the fire control contractors racing down the street, the cops right there with them. Not enough. Not nearly enough. The firefighters tossed flying water summon talismans, hoping to douse the flames. They had no idea what they were dealing with. The water hit the flames- and exploded.

The water flashed into steam, slamming the ash cloud outward. Then the suddenly free oxygen combusted, turning the area into a short-lived fireball. Chunks of masonry and glass rained down on the sidewalks and on the first responders trying to get a handle on things. Too late. Too little and far too late. The demons had used all that time and fuel to grow. Level three and four demons started flying out of the ruins of the bank.

The fire demons joyfully did what they were called to do- spread. Their licking flames reached out and slathered over people and buildings without distinction, leaving cursed ashes as they went. The air demons seemed to dance around the fire demons. Truth could feel them from across the street and dozens of meters up. “Give up,” they whispered. “You are dying to protect… what? Who? Just give up. Just lay down and let the hurting stop.”

The cops had trained for this. The firefighters hadn’t. Someone at corporate went cheap on the training budget. Truth watched as the cops tried to put up wards and hit the demons with dispells, only to have firefighters succumb to the air demon’s whispers and turn the high-pressure water jets on them. One cop shot another in the back of the head, before being cut down himself.

Someone at HQ must have given an order because about a third of the cops leveled their needlers on the firefighters and butchered them. A few puking cops got the wards up, long enough to settle down those the little whispers were reaching. Heavier wards went up, and heavy dispells were starting to come in.

More cops were plowing up the road in armored wagons with the wards deployed. Heavy anti-summon talismans already on the roof, mounted over the standard heavy needler. Demons started getting shredded, even as the smoke and fire spread further and further.

Truth’s building was on fire. The flames were above and below him. Ordinary fire wouldn’t touch him now. He stayed put and watched the furious counterattack of the fire demons. They melted holes in the road, then worked with the air demons to try to burn through the wards of the immobilized trucks.

There was a furious cry, piercing, avian, outraged. A bird flew in, seemingly made of hammered gold. On its broad back stood half a dozen powerhouses. The ones with the lapel pins got their spells deployed fastest. Spells spun out in geometric lacework and crashed into the demons. Their spiritual bodies shredded and twisted then vanished. More spells deployed, stacking on one another to clear smoke, to dampen the flames. To stop the endless little whispers. The powerhouses worked fast. Level Six gets a lot of shit done in a hurry, especially against demons far below their level.

Load Graeme’s Arrow.

The spell slid into his mind. Superficially familiar, but so much more now than when he had used it before. So many more layers to it. Make something go farther, faster, and more accurately. There were endless ways to play with that, weren’t there? But only one rather classic one appealed now. He could feel the spell skittering around in his mind. This… wasn’t really something the System was capable of casting. Truth studied it ferociously, trying to gather enough understanding to make it at least kind of work.

The demons were pushed back towards the bank. Between the cops and the powerhouses, they were slowly hemmed in, then extinguished. A vast dome was dropped over the melted slag remains of the bank. Talismans began to coat the exterior. One of the lapel pin havers, a boss-looking man, was barking orders. The rest of the Starbrite puppets joined hands with him. An enormous formation of spells came into being around them. From the back of their golden bird, they pushed the spell down on the dome. The talismans activated. There was a hard white light.

Now!

The Meditations gave Truth steady hands and sharp eyes. Incisive told him when and where to send the heavy needle. Graeme’s Arrow ensured it got there on time and with the striking power of an overloaded wagon. But it was pure Jeon Army training that taught him how to make a head go “pop” five hundred meters away. Polished to a fine degree by the Starbrite PMC. Not that he had needed much training.

He was running out the back of the burning building before the needle crossed the street. He was jumping to the next building over, already swapping in Abner’s Amble, by the time the needle was crossing the bank. He was two blocks away and accelerating by the time an exhausted B-Tier sighed and stepped back, relieved that things had gotten under control.

The heavy needle did what it was designed to do- tiny hole going in, then the far side of the skull exploded outwards, painting the back of the golden bird in blood and gore. His colleagues screamed, anti-material wards snapping into place, eyes frantically searching. Truth was four blocks away when the body hit the back of the bird. He was completely gone, invisible amongst the people, long before someone ordered a search.

____________________________________________

Truth made his way back to the hotel. It wasn’t very far from the bank, but distances got weird in cities. The two kilometers distance might as well have put it on the moon. People were walking around casually, asking each other if they had heard about the fire in the bank. Truth ignored the chattering ghosts and dragged himself into the suite. Stripped, showered, and while he was showering, filled the hot tub.

Black water puddled around his feet. Ash, mostly, and dust. No blood. Nothing had touched him physically. The Golem came close a few times. He had certainly killed an awful lot of other people. But he was only tired, not hurt. The sheer unreality hammered away at him. He had just conducted a massive act of terror… and he was fine. Physically. His head was screaming at him that this was fucked, that this kind of thing couldn’t happen, or at least not like this. But as far as he could tell, for now, he had gotten away clean.

Not that they wouldn’t be hunting him. Oh would they be hunting him! He could practically hear the orders screaming from officers across the city- Find who did this at once! Find them and bring them in front of me NOW!

Well. Between the demons and the cops and the firefighters and the powerhouses, not to mention all the burned down buildings, they could directly forget picking up his aura or other magical traces. Divining him was going to be a pure loser as well. He was keeping the scales up for the foreseeable future. Between that and all his resistances, they could try to divine him all they liked.

He stepped into the tub and just soaked. Just… tried to let the heat warm him. He placed his hand over his heart. Could really use some of your warmth right now, Etenesh. I’m awfully cold. He floated quietly for as long as he could stand, then turned on the scry. It would all be lies anyhow, but maybe there was something of use on there.

Ah. An advertisement for floor cleaner. Same stuff he remembered from convenience store shelves when he was a kid. Oh boy.

The news came on. The presenter was all in black, with black hair and deep, piercing blue eyes. A heartbreaking, waifish beauty, but there was steel to her, resilience. A face that would bruise prettily but would never break. Her makeup team had done wonders with her. He almost felt like applauding.

“Lockdown orders are still in effect across Gwaju as the terrorists remain at large. Reports are coming in from the Greenbaugh district, as suspected terrorists resist arrest. As you can imagine, our brave men and women of the Uniformed Service have no tolerance for terrorist scum, today of all days. We expect reports-” Her head glowed gold for a moment. “We are receiving reports that the Greenbaugh situation has been pacified. No innocent bystanders were harmed, a credit to the skill and professionalism of our heroes in black.”

She brushed a “stray” hair back over her ear, emphasizing the fragile lines of her and the thinness of her wrists. But her eyes remained resolved, and her voice strong. “Citizens are reminded to shelter in place, as the terrorists are still on the loose, and your safety cannot be guaranteed if you are on the streets. The best thing you can do to help is to stay put and report any suspicious activity to the police tip line. Any lead that leads to an arrest is an automatic ten merits. Any that lead to the capture of a ringleader is fifty. Fifty merits for an anonymous tip.” She emphasized the words carefully.

“Once again- by order of the Governor, all residents of Gwaju are to shelter in place. No one may enter or exit the city. We will catch these murderers. Until then, good night, and good luck.”

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