28. Vesper
VESPER
When we wake up from our rest, the first thing I do is find food.
Back in Dross, we were so limited on resources that it became the norm to fight for food when you stumbled upon it, even if someone else already rightfully claimed it.
Here, in the Harrow safehouses, the food is abundant and free.
As I tear into yet another plate of eggs and bacon—though I limit myself on the amount at this point so I don’t get sick again—I wonder why the food is free. Nothing else is.
“Starving players are not entertaining,” Cipher pops in before I can ask him directly. “It is much preferred that players fight to the death rather than wither away. It reminds them too much of Dross if they do.”
I scowl even as I continue to eat, not wanting the food to get cold. “So, this is all for Luxe’s entertainment then?”
“Have you ever thought it anything different?”
I think about that. Honestly, I thought the Harrow did offer something else to Luxe than entertainment, though I’ve never known what.
It doesn’t surprise me that I was wrong, that we’re still the rats they like to play with.
I tear a piece of bacon off with my teeth, angry all over again.
Those fucking bastards and their golden city.
I’m starting to think Locke has the right idea when he says he wants to make them all pay for the way they treat us.
Especially considering they all came from Dross once upon a time.
“Don’t eat too much,” Locke says as he tears into his own plate across from me. “The Minor Boss of the Broken Caldera is close. I figure we can take it out before we head back to the frozen sea we passed.”
“We still don’t have the proper clothing,” I point out.
“I have a solution for that,” he replies, grinning. He points across the room to a lone man standing in a long, black coat. He doesn’t speak to anyone, just sizes them all up as they pass him by. He just stands there with his shifty eyes looking suspicious.
“What about him?” I ask, frowning.
“He’s a trader,” Locke answers. “I ran into him before you got up. The bartender says he’ll have clothing for the cold he’ll part with if you have something good to offer. We can see if there’s anything we have that he wants and maybe get something warmer.”
“You mean if there’s anything I have,” I deadpan.
His grin widens. “That full inventory’s gotta come in handy for something, yeah?”
I shake my head. “You’d think you’d start picking up stuff when you realize how important a fully stocked inventory is each time. Instead, here you are, relying on me. Again.”
His smile slowly falls. “You’re right. I’ll start picking up stuff that looks useful.”
“I’m not actually mad about it,” I say. “But if something happens to me, you’re gonna be screwed. You should—”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he says abruptly, cutting me off. “Not while I’m around.”
“That’s a very nice sentiment,” I reply, raising my brow. “But not even you can guarantee that, Locke.”
He leans back in his chair and studies me. “Not only do you have the strength of a Bone Breaker, but you’re the system’s favorite. I think you’re gonna be just fine.”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy in that statement?” Cipher purrs.
Locke doesn’t answer, but his lips purse.
Svetlana leaps down off my shoulder and starts to tear into the bacon with a savagery that makes me gape down at her. “What?” she asks around the food in her mouth. “You’ve never seen a predator feast before?”
Call me simple, but I’ve never thought of insects as predators. My perception of them changes just from watching Svetlana eat. We haven’t seen her in action yet, but clearly, she’s going to be a force to be reckoned with when the time comes despite her small size.
“I don’t think any of that guarantees my survival,” I point out, remembering Locke’s comment.
“Yeah, well, you certainly have better odds than little ole me,” Locke murmurs, throwing back the rest of his juice and standing up. “Let’s see what we can offer the trader.”
I stand, leaving Svetlana to make quick work of the food left on the table. Part of me has a hard time leaving food on the plate after fighting for it so long in Dross, but it makes me feel better to know that Svetlana is cleaning the plate for me. Nothing goes to waste.
The coat the man wears goes all the way down to his ankles. It’s closed right now, wrapped tightly around his body as he folds his arms in front of his chest. There’s a weird hat on his head, also black. His eyes watch us as we come closer, eagerness flashing in his eyes.
“Hey,” Locke begins. “We want to, uh, start a trade.”
“You do?” the man asks. “Oh! You do.” He moves his hands to the edges of his coat.
“Well then, let’s . . .” He rips the coat open and holds it out to his sides, revealing that he’s completely naked underneath.
His flaccid cock just kind of jiggles around and makes me take a startled step back.
“. . . trade!” he finishes, his eyes wide and glittering with an unhinged light that makes me regret coming over here.
“What the fuck, man?” Locke scowls. “Put that thing away!”
The man’s smile falls. “You don’t wish to trade?”
Locke looks at me, confused. “Oh, uh . . . we do. But . . . you ain’t gotta be naked for that.”
The man points to the insides of his coat with his nose where small pieces of paper hang. “This is how I show off my wares.” He closes the coat and then rips it open wide yet again for the effect. “Bam! Pow!” He helicopters his dick around for good measure. “Browse my wares, boney boy.”
Locke scowls. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not, boney boy?” the trader asks.
“Stop it,” Locke growls. “Just show us what you’ve got for fuck’s sake.”
He, in fact, does not put his dick away.
We’re forced to stand there with it while he lists off the items he has for trade.
“I have two winter coats lined with rabbit fur, three lighters, four sets of wool socks, a tiny Jesus statue, one set of thermal underwear, five scarves of varying colors, at least two and a half sets of gloves, one plastic spoon, one pair of snow boots, snow goggles, a wolf pelt, one hand warmer, and a molting taxidermy goose that’s creepy and in poor condition.
” He grins. “What items are you interested in?”
I blink and look over at Locke in confusion. That list ranges from useful to garbage. There were so many items, I have to mentally go back through it all to try and figure out what we need. “Umm . . .”
“For sure the two winter coats lined with rabbit fur,” Locke says. “Vesper?”
I grimace, already forgetting the rest of the items when I try to recite them. “Cipher?”
“Yes, Vespera?” he asks immediately.
“Which items give us the best odds of survival?” I ask.
“Very clever question,” he hums. “You should take the two winter coats, two pairs of wool socks, the thermal underwear, a scarf, two sets of gloves, the snow boots, and hand warmer for optimum survival odds.”
I repeat the list to the trader and the items start to tumble out in front of us as he pulls them from his inventory. “Very good,” the trader says. “What will you offer for these items?”
I open my inventory. “Would you accept a Dross jacket, a small fertility goddess statue, and a sunlight medallion?”
Locke looks at me. “We might need the medallion.”
“We have a lighter now which doesn’t cost any XP to recharge,” I point out.
“Yes, but the medallion charges with the sun,” he argues. “Take the medallion out.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “No sunlight medallion. Would you accept a rock with monkey brains on it?”
The trader’s face pinches as he seems to think about the offer. “I will accept those three items in exchange for only the winter coats and wool socks.”
“Fuck,” I grunt looking through my inventory. “How about a bundle of ten sticks, some Arapaima jerky, and a friendship bracelet that says, ‘Best buds’ on it?”
The trader thinks again. “One bracelet or the set?”
“Just one,” I sigh. “I never found the other one.”
“That will cover the scarf and boots,” he nods.
I curse. “You don’t have anything?” I ask Locke.
He pulls out the dull sword and offers it. “Will this cover the rest of the items?”
The trader turns to him. “Weapons are valuable here, boney boy. Are you sure you wanna offer that up for trade?”
“I can’t use it anymore,” he says through gritted teeth. His words make me glance at him in confusion. What does he mean he can’t use it anymore? “And it’s practically useless as a sword anyway”
“Very well.” The trader nods. “I accept the trade.”
“Throw in the tiny Jesus statue,” Svetlana orders as she flies from the table behind us and lands on my shoulder with all the flair of a dancer. Locke flinches at the sudden movement, his eyes narrowing on her. “You will not get any other offers for it.”
The trader studies her. “What do you offer in trade?”
“Your continued life,” Svetlana replies. “How does that sound?”
The trader blinks. “Accepted.”
“We could have just threatened him?” Locke growls.
“On the contrary, your threat would not have been accepted,” Svetlana says, taking the tiny statue of a man the trader offers her. “Only Svetlana is so feared.”
We finish out the trade and the trader finally closes his trench coat again and goes back to standing broodily in the corner, waiting for the next sucker he can swing his dick at. “Pleasure doing business with you, beast bound and boney boy.”
“Stop calling me that,” Locke growls before picking up some of the items.
“That was . . . an experience,” I laugh as I take the items and shove them into my inventory.
They take up the space vacated by the items I’d given him.
My inventory is far from full now after the trade and putting some items away in the safehouse storage.
This safehouse doesn’t seem to have one of the save chests where I can pull items out.
“I quite enjoyed the interaction,” Svetlana says, her little hands still holding the statue. As I stare at her, she says, “Inventory,” and it disappears.
My mouth falls open.