Chapter Nine
Carter
Ten years ago
The weight of my weapons felt good, familiar, welcome. I knew this dungeon was, at the end of the day, no different from any other one. Sure, it was our first serious stable dungeon, but that wasn’t anything new, nothing unexpected.
“We should have done more interviews,” Corsa said as he pulled at his vest. He had complained about the outfit since he’d first had to wear it when headed into a dungeon months prior.
It seemed he felt it didn’t quite match with his general look, and given he was a mentalist, he saw no reason to have anything strapped to him.
Despite his father working in government—the fact that had landed him a temporary spot on our squad—he still had to listen to orders. It meant he’d worn the outfit when I hadn’t budged in the face of his hissy-fits.
“We did four interviews,” Kenyon pointed out. “That’s more than usual.”
“Yeah, but we need to get our faces out there. That’s how you move up in the world.”
His comments made me fight the urge to roll my eyes. The awful truth was that no matter what he did, he’d climb the ranks because of his last name alone. That would open all the doors he wanted—he just needed to put in his time first.
Ingram wiped one of his blades off on his pants, smearing purple in its wake, before sheathing it at his waist again.
So far The Pitt had been easy—nothing unexpected, nothing too difficult. It was larger, sure, but that was all. Just a worse version of what we’d already dealt with.
Other than the extra corruption. I felt that, swirling through me, as though it increased so much more than usual when I used my powers. Guides rested at the portal, so we could always pop out if we needed anything in the middle.
Not that I planned to do that. I tended to straddle that edge of corruption, enjoying the extra energy, the extra power.
My body held onto it, making guiding a challenge at the best of times.
I’d gotten used to it, learned to hide the symptoms so more jumpy folks didn’t get their panties twisted up over some purple eyes.
Still, if I felt it, it had to drain the others.
I glanced over, checking in on all the squad. They looked as they usually did, no signs of struggle.
Shear paused, frowning slightly. He nodded, then looked over at me. “We’ve been ordered to head toward the North East. There’s a large building complex there, and we need to recover those on the upper floor.”
I snorted at the order, used to things like that even if they annoyed me. When had the Guild ever not prioritized those in power, those who could give back and help us in return? Too often dungeons like this had us heading in the direction of the wealthy and powerful to save them first.
At least they sent squads like ours there, those in the spotlight, to prove how important and useful the guild was. We got to do those tasks, then smile for the camera like trained monkeys pulled out to make a point.
That was the game that we had to play, though. If we wanted the good jobs, if we wanted what came with being at the top, we had to do what the Guild wanted.
“Any idea how many are there?” I asked as I headed in the direction he’d said.
“No. No contact’s been made so far, but that’s the office for Pallor Industries, so their board of directors should be there.”
Pallor Industries had their fingers in basically every other industry around, which meant I understood exactly why they’d sent us there. Saving them would not only ensure we looked good on the news, but it would indebt a large corporation to the Guild.
Shear must have sent a response back to the mentalist positioned at the portal, the one in charge of taking the messages and transferring them back and forth.
Radios didn’t work well out here—nothing did—so the Guild had found that using mentalist for communication worked far better.
The one stationed at the portal would give the messages to an esper who’d gone through the portal to ensure as smooth an operation as possible.
Any team without a mentalist was relegated to more straightforward tasks that wouldn’t need communication.
I’d spent plenty of time in San Diego over the years, but it looked nothing like it had before. The bright, usually clear sky was black and the streets were covered in dust and purple blood. We mowed down any monsters that appeared as we headed in the direction of the office building.
Shear stood back, as he usually did since Corsa had joined.
I didn’t know if their tiff was a personality clash—not that Shear had much of a personality to clash with—or if it was some sort of jealousy over having another mentalist around.
Whatever caused it, Shear had made it perfectly clear he didn’t trust the newcomer.
We rounded a corner just as Shear stumbled, a moment before a screeching caused a splitting pain in my head.
“There’s a new wave,” Shear forced out, suggesting the mentalist giving the orders was all but screaming in Shear’s head. “The portal has started to degrade, also. We have an hour at most.”
Just great. We’d just sped up when a frantic call for help drew me to a stop. Civilians calling for help might as well have been the soundtrack to the entire dungeon, but a panic in this one made it so I couldn’t keep going.
I pulled at the handle to a building the voice had come through. Locked.
A well-placed kick proved to be a suitable key.
A bullet tore through the space, and only my exceptional reflexes kept my pretty face intact. Monsters don’t fire guns.
That kept me from reacting. Instead I peeked into the room to find a woman there, a tan apron covering her front, old paint streaks adorning it. She held a pistol straight out, her eyes wide but solid. That was a person who would pull that trigger again if she saw a reason.
And the explanation came easily enough when I peered past her to a huddle of children, none older than ten, many not walking. Her hands didn’t shake, but she didn’t drop her sights from me, either.
I held my hands up, palms out. It was a stupid placation, given my speed and strength, but I’d found it worked well enough. Most civilians had no real understanding of just how dangerous espers could be, which meant a little reassurance went a long way.
“Hey, we’re with the Guild,” I said, flashing my winning smile that I gave the cameras. Things were always easier with a smile. “I heard you calling out.”
She swallowed, her gaze uncertain, but she didn’t have any real other options. She lowered the pistol, her arms likely exhausted. Someone unused to holding a gun couldn’t do it for long. “I have ten children here. We tried to leave, but monsters kept walking by. I don’t know how to get them back.”
I snapped a locator and glanced over at Shear, who closed his eyes, focusing to connect with the mentalist and get updated orders.
We’d been told to head to the office building, but they couldn’t expect us to just leave ten kids here. Hopefully they had scouts close enough to step in, to come and escort the group back to the portal.
Shear frowned then shook his head. “No one’s available.”
“They can just head that way,” Corsa said. “We need to get going.”
“They won’t make it on their own,” Ingram argued, keeping his voice low. “Streets are way too filled. They’ll get picked off before they get close.”
I twisted my arm to stare down at my watch. Just under an hour before the portal collapsed, given the previous calculations, before the dungeon closed and no escape was possible. I cursed, trying to plan.
Could we get this group closer to the portal? Close enough to hand off to another squad? No, from Shear’s reaction, command didn’t seem to give a damn about this group. Who cared about some kids from some daycare for poor folks when there were board members in need of rescue?
It would take thirty minutes to get the group to the portal, even at full speed. The office building was a good thirty minutes from the portal as well.
There was no possible way to do both.
“We have to pick,” I said, keeping my voice down so only we heard it. I didn’t need the teacher to tune in—I might just get a bullet for that. “There isn’t time to get this group back and get to the office building.”
“We need to go to the building,” Corsa said. “The Guild gave us orders and we’re supposed to follow them.”
“Can they change them? Send someone else to the office?” I peered at Shear.
“I’ve been arguing with them since we got here—they say no, to leave this group and focus on our assigned target.”
“No room for negotiation?”
“None.”
“Fuck,” I muttered and rubbed my hands over my face.
Dungeons required choices. That was the name of the game. We had to make split-second decisions, one after another, yet none had seemed quite as heavy as this one.
It wasn’t deciding who to save based on a battlefield, wasn’t realizing I couldn’t save everyone. Instead, it was choosing to let some die for a chance to save others, it was weighing lives against orders.
Except as I met the gaze of my squad, the answer was obvious enough. I couldn’t live with myself if I walked away from this group, if I left the most vulnerable here to die all to maybe save some rich assholes, all to play the game.
Shear, Kenyon, and Ingram each offered a quick nod in return, seeming to come to the same conclusion.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Corsa asked, frowning. He probably picked up the thoughts himself, since he was never on the same page naturally with us. “We have orders. You can’t just ignore orders.”
“They’re kids,” Kenyon said, slowing his voice down as though Corsa simply didn’t get that one important fact. “We can’t just leave them.”
“Do you have any idea what the board members will give us for saving them? It’s basically a blank check for whatever we want.
Not to mention that the Guild will do God only knows what if we disobey an order like this.
” He kept his voice down, but I suspected that wasn’t out of shame, rather just not wanting to deal with a hysterical woman.
Every word he said reminded me of why I didn’t like him on our squad—even short term. He was in it for himself, nothing else.
“The Guild will understand,” I said, unsure if I believed it. “They’ll understand that we couldn’t leave a classroom full of kids here like this to die.”
A pressure in my head made me dizzy, but it stopped as soon as it started.
“Don’t,” Shear snapped out, voice more vicious than I’d heard it before.
It also told me what had just happened. Had this little asshole really just tried to take over my brain to get his way? I shot Corsa a look intending to make it perfectly clear that he was lucky I didn’t have time to deal with him now.
“You ever try that shit again and you won’t live long enough to give it a third try. Now, come on, let’s figure out how to get the kids to the portal as fast as possible.”
“No,” Corsa said, shaking his head. “If you want to sit here and play hero, you do it by yourself, but I’m not about to throw away my future for some fucking children.
I’m not going to make a mistake I can’t fucking take back.
I tried to save you all, but if you’re going to be idiots, do it on your own!
” He took a step backward, his gaze hard and angry.
“You’re going on your own?” Kenyon asked, always the one with the biggest heart. Even if Corsa was a fool and an asshole, he didn’t want the kid running headfirst to his own death. “There’s too many monsters between here and there. It’d be tight with just us, but by yourself? There’s no way.”
Corsa yanked the vest off and threw it to the floor in what had to be the worst toddler-like hissy fit I’d seen in a while, at least from an adult.
“I’m going to do what needs to be done, and then I’ll get all the credit for it.
Don’t expect me to save your asses when the Guild finds out—you’ve fucked around, you can find out. ” With that, Corsa walked out.
I let him go. Sure, I could have knocked him out, could have let Shear force him to come with us, but we had enough problems.
He was an adult—he could make his own choices. Hell, maybe he deserved whatever was coming his way.
Instead, I turned toward the woman and focused. “Okay, let’s get this sorted. We don’t have much time.”
By the time the last kid walked through the portal, it was flickering wildly.
We had a matter of minutes before it collapsed entirely, before we’d be trapped in here, too.
The trip had been fast, but not as fast as I’d have liked.
It turned out a bunch of frightened kids made everything more difficult, but we hadn’t lost even one.
“Is he almost back?” I asked of Shear.
“I don’t know. He’s got me blocked. I could try to force through the block…”
“But that could distract him if he’s fighting.
Fucking idiot—if he was nearby we could have still helped if he wasn’t acting like a fuckwit.
” I dragged my gloved fingers through my hair.
I hated waiting, hated having to sit there and see what would happen.
Each minute ticked by with no response, no sound, no sign of him.
“Anything?” I knew my tone was unfair—far too harsh, and Shear hadn’t done anything wrong—but I couldn’t stop the stress inside me.
Shear shook his head, and a spark of energy came from the portal, a final warning.
“If we don’t go now, we aren’t going to make it,” Kenyon warned.
I cursed again, then turned. “All right, let’s go.”
Kenyon went first, followed by Shear, then Ingram after one quick glance my way. I waited another few seconds, each taking forever, but nothing changed. No signs of life, nothing to suggest that he had made it there, let alone was almost back.
The portal started to collapse, the top disappearing first, like a rain of glass. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I stepped through, cutting it so close that the power from the portal closing burned the back of my leg.
I glanced back at where the portal had stood, the emptiness now, the city in ruins behind it, and shook my head.
What a fucking waste…