♥J You believe the crew would be dead without you. Why?

Balaam watches Abrehex’s clawed hands flash too quickly over the map. A low growl from Hamor, but Balaam squeezes tightly against the harness.  “How many idiots does it take to track the wolf? She can’t be har—“ 

“—I don’t care about Kirapocalypse, she’s the Doctor’s problem.” Abrehex spits through serrated teeth. Twisting back over the map, the smooth skin of his shoulder is overtaken by a jagged, branching crack. Balaam can see the red stone underneath.  

White smoke spells a word in Balaam’s mind, “She’s a distraction.”

“Precisely.” Abrehex’s coy smirk returns. Quickly, to himself, “three days since the burial, so he’s already made it to the…fifth gate. Huh! Doc’s little surprise sabbatical might have helped us out after all.” Turning to Balaam, “Alright, let’s go. You’ve been leering at me long enough, time to see me in action” Abrehex downs the last of his whiskey and with a crush of his fist, pours the shattered glass down his throat with it. “Bring the dog.”

“And the man?” Balaam looks to Eli

“Oh he’ll be fine once the flames go out” Abrehex whipping his dark cloak off of the seat near the fire reveals a small pentagram scratched into the wood, reflected now in Eli’s glassy eyes. 

 Balaam nearly laughs “Have they no education in this city?!” The top of the ornate cane strikes a salt shaker that crashes to the floor. A sharp white line appears, slicing across the line of Eli’s gaze. The bartender’s eyes swiftly focus.

Abrehex fumes, “You son of a—“ 

“Boawf! “  

//

The shuddering sound of an iron chain being hoisted over the edge of an immense wooden deck.

“Look consecrated ground really only does the trick if your soul is—“ 

“Unblemished?” Balaam sneers

“Unclaimed.”  

Abrehex ducks under a fallen beam, leading Balaam and Hamor down a crumbling staircase in the ruin. “What the good Doctor doesn’t know is that Joey sold his soul to me last summer for a better jumpshot.” Abrehex sizes up Balaam’s incredulity. He thinks to himself I thought I was the stone man here. 

Abrehex continues, “If Doc’s right about Kira, and he’s always right, then she went berserk in the park. And that’s the Mane’s territory.”

“And this the Mane will be upset.”

“Close. She’ll be in a fervor, she’s wanted Kira in her pack since Joey put her on the beat.”

The smell of slag and burnt copper. From around a corner, a high pitched hollering voice.

Abrehex listens for a moment before: “She was right, you know about Joey being the first one to figure her out, but she had no idea how stupid he was for her. Lucky for everyone else it means I can keep the Mane from getting her claws on Kira”

The whoosh of a winch cut loose from a platform high above. 

No longer looking back to see if Balaam’s listening, “See the Mane’s badgering us for a new set of teeth, but I happen to know a soul that’s ravenous for Doc’s furry wrecking ball. And we both know he loves to play the hero. Like I said, stupid.” 

“Someone is.” Balaam’s assessment. 

A sharp braork as a wooden slat crumbles underneath Hamor

“Ooh ow, hey buddy, I’m sorry!” Abrehex squats down to scratch the dog’s chest, his body precariously folded over cloven hooves. Looking up at Balaam, “The fifth gate is a hell of a hike, but at least I’ve got leads here. He gonna be alright?”

Balaam looking past Abrehex into the dusty courtyard at the center of this operation, his vision invaded now by the outlines of grasping crimson vines, “You’re not welcome here.”

“Of course I’m not welcome, but I have business. My claim to Joey’s soul is ratified, and the signatories own half the crews up here so we better not get any trouble. Joey’s a gambler and a fighter, so six and seven will offer these demons a lot for him, but the soul’s mine. In blood.” 

“And why did you find the need to bring me into this cursed exchange?”

“Because you’re the only one I can’t lie to beautiful” 

Abrehex stands up to look Balaam in eye to eye “oh and I needed him” he says holding up the end of a leash, the end of it dripping molten metal.

Bounding toward the field of souls that grow in the gardens of the fifth gate on the third night of the mortal soul’s journey, Hamor recognizes the scent and spirit of someone that only he can find familiar in this dismal jungle of black leafed stalks. He starts and digs at the gravel below the urn where Joey’s soul grows from blood red sand. Abrehex arcs the sickle-like end of his tail toward the base of the stalk and pulls a flat silver box from his cloak. A raspy, wheezing, chirping, laughter stays him.

Balaam, swimming through the vines of his vision, searching for the devil he knows, sees a suffocation of black feathers, and only hears:

“Take him Fel.”

“I will, he’s mine. His soul is rightly sold to me.”
​
More sickening, almost choking laughter, “Keep your contract intercessor. It is a night for the damned, and our rivers will run rich with souls. Such a delicious bane that your priest never made it to his consecration.”

♥2 What was the moment you swore to follow the Ace?

In the early days, they moved me between a lot of units. I mean we weren't even squadrons yet, in those days the organization was a joke. We didn't have ASCOM online yet, and you know how I feel about ASCOM, but it's better than nothing. So they'd put me on with some fresh-greased Captain, have me run missions with the crew to make sure that their maneuvers were locked-in. A lot of these early flight school types could run formations, but they couldn't improvise. And in the heat of a conflict, with an actual creature you know, they'd stall or they'd freeze or they'd hook themselves into some obvious pattern that they probably thought was a signature or something but to the enemy, you know, that's just a beacon. So they'd send me in with all the new Captains, you know, each one trying to make sure that everyone knew who was the boss. They'd all been cadets together the week before, but now it was their chance to push each other around, work out old grudges. And it was my job to make sure that they didn't get themselves killed in the squabble. They'd call me the Merc. I don't know how the rumor got around, or if they're all just that damn original, but anyway they'd grin at eachother and make bets on who was going to get phased by the Merc. And I didn't know it then but I hated doing it. But you had to. Now I'm humble, I'm no cadet, I get that these kids were twice, three-times the pilot I am, but I am a good operator, and in those days, sorry Bird, but before the alliance I was the best operator. And we all know it now, but those kids had no clue that when you’re in a tangle you can't just rely on jetwork. So my script was to hold back in the Lithobat and watch the reads on the other Echions, track the adaptive systems, and when one of those stunt-runts missed that their elecrowhip was about to overcharge and that they'd taken three teeth to the deltoid already, I had the override codes to activate whatever reflex weapon they'd overlooked and shunt out the pilot's directives. Phased by the Merc. A flurry of shame and survival. And next mission a brand new crew. Learning the same old lesson. Until you know who. 

Riza was on that mission and Danika too, but you won't be able to guess which one got phased. The run was typical, Nephilim hornets had seized a fuel pod outside Ber Lance and were already syphoning it away. Standard level 1 protocol says short range engagement, controlled spill off fuel pod to distract the hornets then dash out with the rest of the pod. The Ace, of course, had a different plan. 

First contact was smooth, I was prepared to bail these folks out early, but they didn't need me yet. The sync was good, they knew what they were doing with the Echion, but there was a different problem. The mission was running too long and the Ace wouldn't advance the script. The pilots would all fight their way to the inside, and instead of opening up the fuel pod, they'd run a coordinated sweep back to the outside. I couldn't make sense of it. One, because there was nothing I could do, I mean I had the script right there in front of me, but I'm the engineer, I've got no mission priority, no authorization. And two, because I'd never seen such a fresh crew run so tight to the Captain's lead. No showboats, no one trying to take the reins. Everyone just sticking to scene 1 over and over again, while the hornets work into a frenzy. Suddenly there was a break, the Ace pulled out of a turn too short and caught the fanged saw of one of the hornets right under the arm of their Echion. I watched the adaptive systems fire up as the Ace brought their hookdrill up under the single eye of the hornet. With their other limb they shot out flares to aid the pilots on either flank, and the hookdrill kept the first beast from escaping but the fangs kept biting in. It was abnormal for me to phase a Captain if I could avoid it, but the Ace had a rib shield ready to deploy and they were preoccupied with the interference blasts. I snapped in my directive, but instead of the sound of fangs on shield I heard the Ace's voice over my comms "It looks like someone scrambled your overrides, guess it’s time to stop pretending you’re not a pilot. Fire up that bullfrog and get this thing off me." By the time I found myself in the fray, the Ace's Echion had begun to lose fuel. Instead of pulling off the fuel pod, they'd used the Echion's reserve, which meant that the hornets would only be able to sniff back to the Ace and the poor outpost that held the pod would stay safe. That had been the plan all along. I still have no idea how the Ace jammed my override codes, but the second we got back to base I turned in my engineer creds and told Pyraemon that they'd have to find another Merc.

Bella wasn't actually listening. She'd heard what she needed; it was enough to know that he'd be paying for his room and all of his meals in advance. That kind of commitment wasn't often found, even in Vestrim's market district. Besides, who had ever heard of a broke gnome?

"Sure, sure there's a board by the entry, you can pin-up your poster next to Thaddeus' and if anyone comes asking for you I can have someone take down their name." 

He seemed decent enough, if a little much, but she doubted anyone in this part of town would have need for a reenactment performer or whatever he was. Maybe if someone was throwing a children's birthday party...

Anyway he was Lyra's problem now.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I can getcha?"

The gnome looked up between the spoon in his left hand and the quill in his right. "Do you think there might be a secret system of tunnels buried beneath the city?" Rory blurted out with the same frenetic energy as his scribbling. 

"Emmm, I meant would you like an ale?" she laughed. 

"No thank you, no ale for me, too much work to be done!"

It didn't look like she was going to get any extra coin out of this one. Lyra sighed as she crossed the room to another table. On her way back to the kitchen, the gnome gave her a quick wave. 

"Changed your mind already? You're more fick--"

"--What do you know about those three suspicious characters?" he cut in with a stressed whisper, darting his eyes to the left repeatedly, "They're dressed in an ashy black and keep making a coughing sign to each other, must be a secret code."

She was already halfway back to the kitchen.
​
"Chimney sweeps" she hollered back at him.