Chapter Eighty-Nine – Cosmic Football – Part One

I don't think I understand the request… You want me to sanction a sport that is played between worlds… Why?

- UWO Sports Commissioner Gordan -

"Dude, that was such a bullshit flight," Tran groans, pulling his wheeled luggage behind him.

"It wasn't that bad," Gilroy says, yawning, "I got in a nap."

"Easy for you to say, Sergeant, they had you in business class."

Tran has been pretty butthurt since the downgrade, he had made his own list of demands to join the team. They laughed at him and tore up the list and ever since then, him and Barlow have had to fly in economy seating, usually in the middle seat. Barlow never complains about it, but I'll be damned if Tran doesn't moan about every little thing at least three times.

"I'm the best friend of the guy who slayed a fucking god, hell, it was my idea that killed him too," Tran mopes, "Should be treating me like royalty."

Barlow shoots him a glance.

"Us… like royalty."

The glance sharpens a little more, "You mean his second best friend?"

Tran's eyes narrow, "Dude, I've known him longer."

"Annoyed him longer," Barlow quips.

"You're both my best friends," I sigh, looking over at Greymore, "Our ride here yet?"

"Yep, one of mine is picking us up. Just need to get through customs."

"Did you get any word back on us requisitioning the Eiffel tower?"

Greymore grimaces, "Not yet."

"Well, fuck," I sigh, "Plan B I guess."

"Guess so," Greymore says, checking a message from his interface, he turns to look at me as we wait for the airport train to arrive, in a hushed whisper, "You sure you don't want to remove you know who from your party?"

"Tran's not going anywhere."

"Didn't mean him."

"Oh, you mean…"

He nods.

"I need them."

"Alveria is going to be pissed."

"And?"

He shakes his head, "And you don't want her as an enemy."

There's not much that I can do about that. If she had helped me, I wouldn't have to go around her back to get what I need. If she hadn't changed the terms… it doesn't matter. Soon, I'll get what I need to start the first step in the process towards the goal. The very same goal relating to the single question that Sage answered. It may take years to do it, but it will be worth it in the end.

***

A few hours later, and all the usual suspects are gathered. Sitting in a warehouse with a load of old Humvees that don't have any electrical things that can go wrong if the other side proves to be an electronic interference zone. Never know how the magic circuits of a world are shaped. Something I'm realizing more now that I have this Runic Paladin class.

Cortez, Barlow, Tran, Gilroy, Mwangi from second platoon are all standing in their own huddle with Lieutenant Tenny the Glacial Warden from fourth. Tenny was a hard one to get actually, she didn't like the idea of working for a task force that didn't follow a strict mandate or set of rules. That was until she met with Fisban, they seemed to get along really well. Similar mindsets about being prepared and how an organization should function.

Lieutenant Dorliac and Sergeant Brussels from third platoon are standing near them. Brussels and Dorliac can barely keep their hands off each other for more than twenty minutes at a time most days. It's a good thing though, means she's moved on and she's happy, which makes me happy. It's also a convenient thing, it didn't take much convincing to get Brussels to join up. I saw him in action during the survive quest when I first got Respec On Death. Same with Tenny. They may not remember, but I do.

Fisban and her protégé Jericho are off in their own corner with three other suits. Fisban's still in her wheelchair, part of my deal with Sera was for her to fix Fisban's situation. Can't do that until I get back from this quest though, the contractors in proper government contract fashion are taking their sweet ass time and double billing materials and labor. They haven't even broken ground yet apparently on my request, nor on the one Sera had me make. Hers is incredibly specific and will take at least a year if I had to guess.

I give her a nod as I walk by. She might not need to wait that long for me to fix her though, I'm guessing that the upgraded Triage might be able to help. That with my healing skill will hopefully be enough.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Walking further down the convoy line, I see Greymore and his hand picked special ops crew, I recognize each and every single one of them, I remember watching them die for me once. Something I won't soon forget. They all give me a nod as I approach.

"Everyone ready?"

"All good, god slayer," one says with a devious grin, he's the same guy that carries twin ruby colored daggers. Probably the best blade dancer I've ever seen. He has a weird class, something like Nightmare blade. Forget the specifics, but with each successive kill, his ability scores improve for a short duration. Makes sense why he lasted so long. It also apparently gives a fear debuff to enemies if he reaches a certain amount.

"I told you to call me Jimmy, Sergeant."

He chuckles, "I told you to just call me Clayton, I don't need any honorifics."

He's Greymore's most trusted, and least trusted soldier. It's a bit convoluted, but basically if Greymore needs something done by any means necessary, he sends Clayton. Only problem is that Sergeant E-5 Clayton has a penchant for pissing off high command. His deeds and abilities are such that they won't kick him out, but they definitely won't promote him either. He should have been promoted to officer ranks more than five years ago, instead he's set the record for number of times going from E-4 to E-5. He doesn't seem to care though, said he likes taking orders; thinking about stuff in his humble opinion is for nerds. All in all though, of Greymore's crew, I like him the most.

The last person on the convoy is one who is not particularly happy to be here.

"Why do they keep calling you god slayer?" Verantha asks, her forest green hair is tied up into a loose bun, her deep green eyes measure me carefully.

"Inside joke."

She shifts, "Am I not part of the team?"

"You are, but Fisban hasn't cleared you for everything, after this mission, I'll ask her again."

She leans closer, "I still don't trust her. My goddess says there's nothing wrong with her, and no reason for her to be in that wheelchair."

I stifle a groan. Besides her lack of faith in Fisban, she's been pretty good to have around. Greymore's crew seems to like her since they can train harder with her around. She's here willingly… mostly.

Joining our task force was essentially Verantha's only choice. The UWO was not going to let her return to the WHA with what she had seen during the desecration quest. After we disappeared the UWO listed her as AWOL, the WHA petitioned for the UWO to issue a warrant for her arrest. The charge they listed was desertion of contractual obligations relating to world order affairs and suspected involvement in her old teammate Trent's death. I guess his uncle, Chairman Olivers is still looking for someone to punish for… my gaze lowers, for what I did.

Trent's a drop in the bucket to the shit I've seen now. Carry the torch.

"You good," Cortez asks as she approaches.

I nod, looking back at Verantha, "I'm glad you're here. Clerics as skilled as you are hard to come by."

She blinks, looking me up and down as though expecting a snide remark to follow. Content that it won't, she nods, "I'm glad you can see my value properly." She winces, "Our value, my goddess is here to help too."

That's the last reason that she joined, after the proceedings, Amaetha apparently joined a newly formed pantheon, Ulana's. I was surprised to hear about it from Sera of all people. She seemed tickled by the news, excited for what it might mean, which I still haven't gleaned. Either way, I'm up a cleric, that's a win in my books. Also it means that Verantha can now play the telephone game with Amaetha who is allegedly receiving directives from Ulana. A work around for Sera hijacking me. Not that she's done anything with it yet. Her only message is to be patient.

"That woman…" Verantha begins, looking around, then in another hushed whisper, "The demon."

"Mira?" Cortez asks.

Verantha nods, "She isn't joining us, right?"

"She's locked up in an undisclosed UWO facility," I shrug.

"Good, good," she sighs with relief, leaning on the shiny new staff we requisitioned for her, "She seemed unhinged."

"To be fair, she was suffering from a mood instability debuff," I shrug.

Verantha laughs, loudly and strangely, drawing everyone's attention, her face flushes like she's embarrassed at having caused a scene, quietly she replies, "A mood instability debuff doesn't make you that crazy. Trust me, I've had it before."

"You don't say."

Her eyes narrow.

"Kidding," I breathe, then patting her shoulder, "Relax, we got you covered no matter what happens."

Her eyes widen, that classic Verantha paranoia ebbing across her expression, "Why would you need to cover me? What's going to happen?"

"Nothing, relax, I need to check in with everyone else. If you need anymore supplies, talk with Fisban."

I turn and head toward Fisban who has just finished briefing her suits and is giving me the come here finger.

"Jimmy?" Verantha says after me, then louder, "Jimmy?"

"You don't have to rile her up on purpose you know," Cortez says, trying to subdue a grin.

"It wasn't on purpose… mostly."

When I reach Fisban, she shoos Jericho with a hand wave and straightens in her chair, little knickknacks are strewn on the arms making a merry little jingle as it rolls. Trinkets we've all gotten her over the last few weeks. I notice that the ones that Tran got her aren't hanging on there, which isn't surprising they were… inappropriate.

"Timer check," Fisban says.

"Two hours and twenty minutes."

She wrings her hands nervously, "Go over the plan with me again."

"Andrea, he's gone over it twenty times."

"It's fine," I smile, giving Fisban a nod, she's worried, I get that, she won't be coming with us.

The terrain for the quest isn't guaranteed. We offered to carry her in, she nearly had a meltdown about it. She's used to being the most capable person on every team she's on, now, she doesn't feel like that. Even though for me, I still see her value add. I don't see a woman in a wheelchair, I see a seasoned warrior with lots of experience and knowledge for me to learn from.

We wouldn't even have half the stuff that we have if she didn't agree to be the handler, and official leader of the task force. Fisban had always turned down desk jobs in exchange for field duty, she was offered a promotion to be head of a division, like Greymore, she took the demotion to stay on, because she believes that someday we will rival the WHA heroes and make Alveria and her boss eat a humble pie.

I'm glad we have her. There isn't anyone here that I'm not sure about having.

***

A little over two hours later and we are all antsy.

"Why are we all wearing these dumbass uniforms?" Tran asks me.

"You're about to find out," I say, shifting mine, labeled number seven, my lucky number.

"Time check," Greymore asks, rolling his neck.

"Fifty seconds."

He nods, turning to the troops, he roars, "Pucker the fuck up, travel inbound, weapons ready!"

Cortez's hand is playing on the edge of mine, I'd hold hers, but both of mine are full. I have a soccer ball in one arm and an American football in the other, just in case… never know. I turn to look over at her, she gives me a warm smile, if I didn't know her as well as I do, I wouldn't be able to see the worry beneath it.

A purple text box appears in my vision.

[ Respec On Death Quest ]

[ Accept? ]

[ Yes / Yes ]

How polite of him to offer me a choice. I click the yes button and reality warps.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.