Slumrat Rising

Truth floated in the tub. He wasn’t particularly bothered by the lockdown- he certainly needed a rest and didn’t fear the manhunt finding him. It was something else completely different that had seized his attention- what did Jeon look like before Starbrite arrived? He had some idea of how Siphios looked; Merkovah and Etenesh would hardly shut up about how wonderful it had all been. All the strange wonders and mysterious delights of the nation most favored by God. But then, they were looking back on a time when they were literally at the top of the world.

Was Jeon better before the arrival of Starbrite? He didn’t really know. His bet was… no, it wasn’t. Because that’s the Starbrite promise, isn’t it? Give us your money and your labor, and we will give you comfort. The sexy, smart, stylish people who have all the best things all work for Starbrite. They have all the brand new top-of-the-line stuff. A lot of that tech must have been imported from off-world, now that he thought about it. Even Truth wasn’t prepared to believe that Starbrite single handedly raised the talisman creation arts to their current heights.

He slowly nodded, staring blankly up at the off-white ceiling. He should check, but he would bet that Starbrite massively raised the quality of life in Jeon. A little country, always afraid of its bigger neighbors. Not scared now. Of course, there were a few minor consequences of letting Starbrite get the hold on the country it did, but he could imagine that each step made sense. A chain of perfectly logical, perfectly reasonable decisions, from labor accommodations to loans to export laws. Environmental stuff. He didn’t know what stuff, but there must be something, right?

Hell, at some point, Starbrite must have looked like the scrappy underdog. Presumably, so long as no one noticed just what a beast ran it.

Truth smiled bitterly. It seemed he could add history to the ever-growing mountain of “Things Truth Did Not Know.” It wasn’t fair. He kept learning new things, and the mountain kept getting bigger. But how were you supposed to make the right choice if you didn’t know all the things? Do your best and hope? That hadn’t worked great so far. Merkovah would probably say that only God had perfect wisdom, and thus all his choices were correct, but Truth had never been sold on that idea. The evidence didn’t seem to support it.

Problem is too big? Make it smaller. What did he want his personal world to look like? His Rough Patron promised him that violence would always be part of his life, at least until he got strong enough to make it stop. He assumed that meant when he was as strong as his Patron, so a long way off. And that led over to what Etenesh had said up on the mountain- the life of a mortal never appealed to him. He would keep climbing until he died or reached the Godhead.

Truth bobbed in the water, examining that idea. He had never considered anything other than a mortal life, as he was not aware that there were any alternatives. He understood in some vague way that there was a life after death. There was Heaven and Hell. He had experienced tiny flashes of both through various portals and summonings. The problem there was that no one, including the angels and demons, was terribly consistent about what got you into either place.

Hell certainly seemed deeply unpleasant, an eternity of torment, in fact, but if he had to assign one word to Heaven, it would be “obliteration.” All the human stuff was evaporated by the light of that place, leaving behind… something. He didn’t know what. Some piece of the soul that was more than human. When he unified with Etenesh (he couldn’t call it having sex or something cruder), he had an intuition. When you reach the top of cultivation, something is born. Something great and eternal.

He wanted a safe place. Somewhere good, healthy, and healing. He wanted it for himself and for his sibs and the kind people he had met traveling. He wanted a life together with Etenesh. For whom he had terminal First Girlfriend Syndrome, but it’s still what he wanted. Which meant he had to defend that good place because if there was a good place, bad people would always come and take it. Always. Which is why there were gangs and countries. Gotta protect your good place.

He didn’t understand how any of that worked. He didn’t think he had ever seen a gang or a country live up to all his promises. He understood getting stronger. Becoming smarter. Becoming more capable. Time and again that is what made those little islands of safety. It was true in Jeon, and it was true in Siphios.

So what would it take to make the ultimate safe place? A place where his loved ones would be happy and he would be safe to see what sex without cultist supervision was like. Somewhere where he would be strong enough without a gang. Or rather, becoming strong enough that wherever he decided the safe place was, it was, and it was safe because he said so.

Truth started laughing, a weak, bitter sound. Etenesh really was a lot smarter than him. Infinitely better educated. She had gotten into his head early, figured out how he thought, and ran the numbers. There was no perfectly safe place, and Truth would never trust his safety, and the safety of his people, to another. Not if he could help it. So he would always strive for power. His path would end in either death or becoming a god. Which suited her right down to the ground. If the current God despised her, she would put a new one up in his place. A god that would love her as madly and totally as she loved him. A god that would never abandon her.

And he was even tall, good-looking, interested in her, and a virgin. Truly, He works in mysterious ways.

Truth got out of the tub and let the water repulsion spell scrape the wet away from him. The bed was as comfortable as he remembered. Exhausted, he slept.

Truth opened his eyes in the pitch-dark room. He could see just fine, so he hardly bothered with the lights. Something had nudged him to alertness. A tingling from Incisive? Or just that ground-in instinct from growing up in the slums? Something was about to kick off. Truth quietly checked the suite- empty. He got dressed as quickly and as silently as he could. Most of his changes of clothes lived in a duffel as it was, so that was easy to square away. But something was niggling at him, and it was getting worse.

He crept to the door and pressed his ear to the crack. Was there something? Someone quietly sneaking past? They were quiet. Very quiet. If they were there at all. Truth’s mind raced. If they did manage to track him down, they would send a damn army, and there would be high levels backing them up. Busting through the door and clearing the hall wasn’t smart. Likewise, the window was a loser- they would have people watching the street. The floor or roof? Anyone involved in the bank hit wouldn’t be slowed by such feeble barriers. They would be ready for him to try it.

If they were there at all.

He grabbed his duffel and pulled the strap as short as it would go, cinching it to his back. As silent as a cat, he hopped up to the ceiling, then spread out his hands and feet, wedging himself in the corner overlooking the door. If someone kicked in the door, he would have a precious second to assess before anyone spotted him.

He stilled his breath and waited. Every faint noise in the hotel was magnified and dissected, its significance interrogated, and countermeasures were considered. Then, he did nothing. Waiting. Waiting for something certain. The silence stretched.

He could hear his blood pumping through his veins. The dull double beat- thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. Eyes fixed on the door. Ready to summon his sword in an instant, to kill in an instant.

A muffled CRUMP, a breaching charge! Truth forcefully controlled his spasming limbs. It came from next door. Two ungodly huge BANGS, as flashbang charms went off. Screamed orders to get down DOWN. Sharp crackling noises- lightning rounds. They wanted prisoners, not bodies. A bare minute after the assault, calls of “Clear!” started being shouted. A very professional dynamic entry and room clearing.

Truth concentrated on listening. “Five perps. Got needlers, summon scrolls, what looks like a poison making setup but that’s going to be for the lab guys to figure out. Some propaganda bullshit.”

“How many were on the list?”

“Three.” The voice sounded grim. “We had no idea on the other two. I ran their ID’s. Solid citizens, until tonight.”

“Praeger protect us. Alright. Let’s get it bagged up. The interrogators are backed up as it is, but I want these assholes processed ASAP.”

“Might want to bump these guys up the list, Lieutenant.”

“Oh?”

“Army issue needlers. Including a heavy needler. They had plenty of counter-surveillance charms, too. Some look professional grade. And, like I said, demon-summoning scrolls. Not even talismans, actual hide scrolls, which per the manual…”

“You aren’t saying-”

“Nah, these guys didn’t put up a fight. I don’t think they had anything to do with the hit on Nowulem.”

There was a moment’s quiet. Truth waited with as much patience as he could muster. He knew you could carve a spell array on almost anything; you could create a formation in the air. Talismans were just the most convenient and durable. So what was the deal with hides?

“Well, shit. That’s just what we need.”

“Might be a coincidence.”

“Or it might not. Shit. Alright, strip this place down to the floorboards. I don’t want to miss a single speck of evidence. These guys were pawns. I want to find the player.”

“Yes, sir.”

Truth stayed glued up in his corner of the ceiling for the next three hours. It wasn’t a pleasant time, but his paranoia would demand no less. It seemed that he had spent his last night here. In fact, it might be best to get out of the city entirely. The only problem was he had left a message for Merkovah, which specified that he was in Gwaju. Truth silently sighed. It seemed that he needed to check some dead drops before he left.

_____________________________________

Leaving the hotel was intensely nerve-wracking. Truth assumed every exit would be surveilled, with the lobby being forty percent plainclothes cops by volume. Of course, they would put their more discreet and brutal surveillance on the back exits, figuring anyone “smart” would try to run out the back. This would usually be his cue to go out a window, but it’s not like that was exactly stealthy, either. He was very confident in his ability to hide, but he really, really didn’t feel like testing it at the moment.

He eventually settled on a simple but dumb method. It was a luxury hotel, so naturally, there was underground parking. Now, the cops, not being dumb, were checking the boots of carriages and sweeping underneath with mirrors. Truth carefully evaded observation until a carriage with a high ground clearance had passed inspection. Once they turned away to wave it through the gate, he dove beneath it and grabbed on.

A grimy, grim Truth made his way through the dull micro-park next to an office building some forty minutes after leaving the hotel. Lots of gravel and low maintenance shrubs. A few benches that retracted into the ground at night. Horrible, really. He counted the shrubs from the east exit. When he reached number five, he took a look at the base. Was that an X carved in there, or just a normal twist of the bark? He’d bet an X. Which meant “message received,” and told him which ritual to use.

Truth let himself into an office building, picked a floor at random, and found a janitor’s closet. He wasn’t much for creating rituals, but this was straightforward enough. He had practiced it until it was effortless. A few drops of blood into the middle of it and then-

“Oh, now you remember how to call.”

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