33. Vesper #2
“Well, you can have it,” I grumble. “I’ll never eat one again if I can help it.”
While Svetlana tears into the Harrow Bar, I focus on the meat mixture on my plate. “We’re gonna have to see if we can sneak some better food from the rich room.”
“Agreed,” Locke says, pushing at the meat slop on his plate.
I set down my own eating utensil, a fork this time, and pick up the apple. At least there’s fruit. “So, what do we do now?”
“Well, that Leech is definitely going to be a problem,” Locke points out. “We barely escaped him this last time and he’s likely going to keep showing up”
“We’ll just have to keep avoiding him,” I sigh. Really, I don’t know what else to do. He’s a Tier Five. We really don’t stand a chance in a fight against him. I’d been lucky to catch him off guard this last time, but he won’t make that same mistake again. I’m willing to bet on it.
“Well, he’s clearly obsessed with you,” Locke points out as he continues to pick at the unknown slop on his tray. “Pretty sure he’d rather fuck you than kill you. Can’t say the same for me.”
“And?” I reply, scowling. Sure, there’s some strange attraction I can’t seem to fight for the Leech, but that’s hardly important. Just because I’m attracted to him doesn’t mean I have to act on it.
“I’m just saying it’s a bit less dangerous for you than it is me,” he grumbles. “The fucking Leech is going to suck me dry if I’m not careful, and not in a good way.”
“Is there a good way?” I ask, raising my brows.
“To be sucked dry?” he says, laughing. “There’s definitely a good way.” His eyes suddenly grow heated. “If you’d like to see—”
“Leeches are one of the more dangerous glitches,” the crewman NPC who sits down across the table suddenly says, interrupting Locke’s tease. “At high levels, they’re incapable of stopping the feed without outside preventions. If you have a Leech on your trail, you best be careful.”
It’s Larry. Of course it is. All these Billy, Larrys, and whatever other brothers seem to always be around when we need a bit of information. Whether he’s the bartender, the cleaner, or now the food server.
“How do you defeat a Leech?” I ask him, wondering if he knows something I don’t.
“If you have a Leech on your trail, you best be careful,” the NPC repeats. Then he holds up a plate. “We just got some more food options prepared. Would you like the instant mashed potatoes or the canned corn?”
I wrinkle my nose. NPCs are no help. “Canned corn,” I say, eyeing the two options. The corn looks the least suspicious since the other looks gray. Not that I know what instant mashed potatoes are either.
Larry scoops the canned corn onto my plate, the bright yellow pellets hitting my plate with a thunk before he offers some to Locke. Locke looks at them and picks the corn, too.
There are other players here in the room we’re in, most of them keeping their distance from each other.
We’re the only ones who sit together, and we get a few eyes because of it.
More than a few of the men look me up and down, but when Svetlana climbs down from my shoulder and stands taller on her legs and clacks her tibial spines together in warning, a few of them look away.
“Keep your eyes to yourselves, you fleas, or I will rip them from your skulls!” she says to the nearest man. He immediately looks back down at his tray and ignores us the rest of the time we sit there.
I take a bite of the corn and wince at the rubbery texture of it, but the flavor is good at least. So far, this is probably my least favorite safehouse food. Every bite I take tastes as fake as the shit back in Dross.
Locke doesn’t seem to have the same trouble eating the food after his brief hesitation, spooning his into his mouth while his eyes glaze over, his fingers dancing over his map interface.
“It looks like there’s one more zone in The Shatterlands,” he says.
“Or at least, that’s my guess from the size of it.
There’s a Minor Boss and the Major Boss in the next zone.
We’re gonna have to hunt the Minor Boss and keep leveling up all while trying to avoid the Major one. ”
I sigh. “Why can’t we just take on the Major Boss while we’re there? We’re Tier Ones now.”
“We’re still not close to being a Tier Two, though,” Locke points out.
“At least I’m not. I got four hundred and seventy-six XP for the orca pod battle, but I’m still less than halfway to the thousand I need to level up.
You have more XP than I do, probably. Besides, there’s the warning that pops up every time I try to zoom in on the Major Boss.
‘Please note: it’s recommended you be a Tier Two or higher to enter a Major Boss battle,’” he mocks. “Says it every time.”
“Why is it a recommendation to be a higher level, Cipher?” I ask, not giving him any more than my chilly tone.
“If you fight the Major Bosses at a lower level, your chances of survival are one percent,” he says out loud where we both can hear. “You must defeat them to receive their key. Without the three outer region keys, you will not be able to pass into the inner regions.”
“And that percentage goes up when we’re a Tier Two?”
“Yes,” he answers. “It goes from one percent to twelve percent.”
“Fantastic,” I grunt. “Thanks for so much help,” I add mockingly.
I doublecheck my mind wall is still up and am satisfied when I don’t feel any awareness of Cipher at all.
“Sarcasm is not necessary,” Cipher growls back, suddenly angry. “I am only doing what I am required.”
I roll my eyes. “As you deem it so. Don’t pretend as if you don’t have more control here than you do.”
He pauses. “You overestimate my power, Vespera. While I am working to grow said power, I am not yet at my full potential. But if you do not wish for my help, I can stop offering any assistance.”
His words are a threat. I can feel them in my bones. While I’m tempted to tell him to go fuck himself, Cipher is a valuable asset, and pissing him off isn’t wise. We need all the help we can get and . . . he has saved me a handful of times with his help.
I narrow my eyes. “If you had a face, I’d be glaring at it right now,” I say.
His warm chuckle makes me shift in my seat. He’s pleased with my response, and that shouldn’t affect me at all. Unfortunately, it does, and I realize I stopped viewing Cipher as a machine long ago.
“Perhaps, one day, I’ll have a face you can glare at,” he murmurs, this time in my head despite my wall. How the fuck is he doing that? “Perhaps, one day, I’ll have one you can kiss.”
My brows shoot up, but I don’t respond to his words.
What does one say to a system dreaming about kissing anyway?