Chapter 6-175: Buying Opportunities

I laughed despite myself. “Yeah, I know that feeling!” Still, Tremble had been Zieben-Slotted before the balor’s Sword, so it could have gone right to Nein. Adding in Arsenal variations, and all that nightly Karma for two years... “Your Sword beat you to Ten, didn’t she?”

Sama got an odd look on her face. “I didn’t have to fight every night, but often enough that she and Stand made out pretty damn well. Yeah, all Ten Slots open.” There was a satisfied hum from the plain slab of metal affixed to her right bracer.

“Okay, so you’ve the Weapons of a Deep Ten... you can’t be suffering too much.” I had to roll my eyes at her. Some things just came with time, and she’d had years more here than I had.

“It’s roughly two straight years of Naming Karma to pay for ten Slots, Arsenals, and Intelligence and upgrades on one Weapon. I’ve got two, three if you count Fall, the days aren’t straight, and I’ve got other things I have to make, too.” We both politely ignored feeding Zeks-Slot Weapons to them. Those didn’t just drop out of the sky... well, wait, they ONLY dropped out of the sky.

“And you probably don’t even want to think about a Special Purpose until you’re post-Ten, just so you don’t gimp them.” Yeah, yeah, designing grotesquely powerful magic items was a hobby for the rich, powerful, and long-lived. “I get it, I get it. I’ll be helping the grind, trust me. Now, what about Nashville?”

Her blue eyes glittered, cold and hard. “The Imprusar found I was going to be down there escorting a client. They made special plans...”

==========

Nashville, Tennessee, not too awful long ago...

“Oh my word, is that the new PG-20? Must see closer!”

“Look, look, that’s the new Esperom Far Ear!”

“The new Klubartov Bracer design! Ingenious!”

“Nonanev’s Grippers! What a fine set of boots! What’s the meaning behind this tread design, can you tell me?”

“They got the memory metal design working for Blauwertz’ nets? That’s fantastic!”

“Kugurov only makes sniper rifles, but they are as good as any Gritworks design...”

“Look at that Hurn-Hurn Bully Boy Hand Cannon. Only for Ogres, indeed...”

Daedrig Blakhamar was one of her ‘older brothers’, and had requested her as an escort when he ventured down to the Nashville Olde Time Country Gunshow, which was the largest show for independent weapon and weapons-related technology and magitech in the country.

Sure, the Gritworks Extravaganza in Detroit attracted more of the big names, crowding out the small timers who didn’t have all the name recognition... but this was one of the key places where new ideas floated to the surface, and all the big corps had spotters here looking for the next newest, greatest idea, hoping to corral the designer and add something new and unique to the corporate inventories.

While many of these temperamental people would never sell out to a corp, licensing wasn’t out of the question, and for many of them, getting a Provisional Affiliation with Gritworks was actually something of a dream. The Old Fogies division of Gritworks was made up of all sorts of independent and eccentric artisans who benefited from the affiliation, but were allowed to pursue their own goals while Gritworks verified and vouched for their skill, and handled the newfangled internet marketing.

Daedrig operated as a buyer-at-large for the dwarven community of St. Paul, spending his time looking for stuff for all the dwarven craftsmen who supported him. Be it a better shoe design, a cool wheel axle, or the newest kind of Nickelback ammunition, he hunted it down, made copious mental notes and observations, and brought it back to the Masters back home to ruminate over, sometimes buying actual items if they were advanced enough to warrant personal inspection.

He was one of the older Blakhamar kids, an actual blood son of Hank Blakhamar, and having grown up in a household with so many oversized siblings, he got on well with practically everyone. He was very undwarven, a smiler and a hand-shaker, always with a laugh or a grin... but he was still a Blakhamar Crystal Dragon stylist, and his dark eyes were hard and cold and missed nothing.

He’d spent ten years in the service, too, and much like Shiv, didn’t talk about what he’d done there. It hadn’t been in accounting, although he might have been company armorer for one of the quieter elite combat teams.

He’d made a name for himself at shows like this, and the salesmen both smiled and grimaced to see him coming. If he bought, it would not be at the show, unless it was something extraordinary... but an order might be coming later, if they were good enough with the gab. Things he tagged could wind up being ordered by craftsmen, collectors, and enthusiasts across half the North, so he was recognized and treated well.

Having a golden-haired young woman in plain combat togs tagging along with him was new, as usually it was a looming brute in armor or a deftly smiling, fast-handed sort with obvious quick-draw rigs coming along with him.

Sama didn’t mind, as getting adopted into the Blakhamars came with some family obligations, and she was getting paid full rate for her time.

This place was absolutely full of a large number of people wearing firearms and cutting implements, and although she looked very casual, she was drifting along in Combat Focus, keeping an eye on everything around her, doing threat assessment, and really ignoring most of Daedrig’s nonstop exclamations of joy and trivia and greetings and goodbyes and reminiscing as he strode happily through the crowds here.

There was a shooting range in the trading hall, the Silencing just not quite good enough to allow the constant distant popping, cracking, and occasional booming to echo through the settings, competing with the country music anthems that naturally had to represent the Grand Ole Opry only a mile or two down the road.

As a matter of fact, she’d seen at least five members of the Opry roving about the place, looking at all the shiny new implements of kill-kill on display with the same kind of glitter in their eyes as any other attendee... and usually with deeper pocketbooks.

From kids trying out customized GR-19 mods to grandmothers testing out recoilless.45 Magnum pistols Mohono would prefer, the party-like atmosphere of the place was not inhibited at all by the amount of firepower being toted around by the participants.

Of course, you could tell who among the participants WAS their own firepower, by the way they dressed, and if that wasn’t enough, the occasional falling snowflake, arc of lightning, or fire dancing about hands or shoulders or whatnot would do the job, too.

There was a lot of lethality in this place, and it didn’t bother her threat-wise... but she was here to do a job, pretty much ignoring Daedrig’s attempts to draw her into conversation and get a reaction from her, which amusingly was earning her more respect than if she’d been chatting with him. For all his smiling, he took his work seriously.

As this place dealt in technology and magical adaptations of it, it didn’t really hold much interest for Sama, who was more medieval in her applications of destruction as yet. Perhaps someday she’d be able to do more than look at a bunch of equations without getting a headache, but that was not now.

Patient and calm, and looking much less dangerous than she was, affecting a face of complete disinterest and spaced-out boredom, she yet followed Daedrig precisely and accurately, eyes roving here and there and-

What was that?

Her hand reached out, slapped down on Daedrig’s shoulder where he was talking with a vendor displaying some sort of shock baton intended for civilian law enforcement use. Cantrip-grade magic made for great improvements in batteries and amperage...

“ATTENTION EVERYONE! THERE IS A POISON GAS ATTACK BEING PUMPED INTO THE AIR THROUGH THE CIRCULATION SYSTEM FROM THE ROOF! GET OUT OF THE FUCKING BUILDING! SOMEONE BLOW A HOLE IN THE ROOF, AND SOMEONE ELSE BLOW A FREAKING WIND OUT IT RIGHT NOW IF YOU CAN!”

Her voice rang out with grim command, and she wasn’t even looking at Daedrig as the gas mask came out of her Pack and slapped over his face before he could say a thing.

“NOW, PEOPLE!” she blared out.

There were shouts, and then people started running for the exits.

A guy in a red leather jacket grinned and gestured, throwing his hands up at the domed roof far overhead, and a blazing Fireburst streaked up to detonate against it, instantly melting and blasting a twenty-foot circle in one of the sections. He called out to another Caster nearby, who whirled his hands and spun up a short cyclone about himself, which he sent whirling up to the dome... and which naturally started sucking up the poisoned air and drawing it out of the hole.

Then the shooting started, and that wasn’t silenced at all.

“GUNS OUT! SOMEONE WANTS TO KEEP US IN HERE!” Sama pulled Daedrig’s heavy shotgun out of her Masspack and deposited it into his ready hands, not taking her eyes off the vortex. The fire Caster turned to look at her, identifying her as the center of the Voice, and she pointed left, to where the sounds of firing and the screams were coming from. He pulled out his own sidearm, the muzzle already burning, and holding it low and away, headed through the string of civilians starting to run away from the entrances now.

She could see people clutching at their throats and dying... the ventilation system was naturally pumping near the entrances, too. The fire alarms that should have gone off as the fire doors were kicked open did not, and then automatic fire ripped into the first people to exit them, sending those behind scurrying away as dark objects were tossed inside, and the screams as the grenades detonated were much louder.

Vendors were upsetting tables, weapons on display were suddenly being taken up for usage, and Sama shouted out, “If YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BE SHOOTING, GET ON THE DAMN GROUND SO YOU DON’T GET SHOT! FOCUS ON THE DOORS COMING IN! ANY CASTERS, TOSS ANY GRENADES YOU SEE BACK THE WAY THEY CAME! YOU SEE THAT PURPLE ON THE SHOTS? THAT’S SINBOUND WARLOCKS! SHOOT THEM ALL!”

There were grim shouts going back and forth, as Sama dragged Daedrig over towards the aeromancer who was focused on blowing a constant gust of wind out of that new hole.

“It’s still pumping,” she told the man when she arrived next to him. “Lay down on the ground so you aren’t seen, and keep at it. These people aren’t dying because of you. We have you covered.”

The middle-aged man in casual attire of blue and white just glanced at her, then crouched on the ground, sat down, and laid back, not taking his eyes off the hole in the ceiling as he did so. A thirty-mile-an-hour wind was shooting up from him for that hole, and the amount of air it was venting was keeping pace with the entire circulation system easily.

Fall was already in full autobow mode, and Sama was up and scanning down the length of the aisle for targets. Desperate people were already scuttling between booths and tables, hunting for cover, but everyone over twenty here had been in military service, and knew how to duck and cover.

The grimmer ones knew how to shoot back, even if they didn’t have much ammunition on them... but oddly enough, there were ammo vendors here, whose wares suddenly became extremely popular and cheap.

The killers came in behind purple-black Ward Walls that ate up the incoming fire, tossing grenades and shooting. A couple lit off with RPG’s against the thickest areas, which blew flaming holes in the aisles and raised new screams from hidden people beyond wounded as the raiders moved in with professional discipline, using the manifested Ward Walls for cover and shooting everything they could.

One group bought it as the pyromancer threaded a Fireburst right in between two Wards’ coverage area, and blew it off in the middle of the squad. They were sent flying in all directions, and before they could get their defenses up, three of those custom GR-19 mods in their bright pink and pale green attachments opened up on them and hosed them down mercilessly.

There was fighting and shooting going on from all directions as the Warlocks came in. Sama dragged the Wizard out of the aisle along the ground to a mercenary recruiter’s booth, said recruiter no longer in the area. The man said nothing and just stared up at the hole the wind kept going out the whole while, and she simply covered the left while Daedrig covered the right.

“Group coming up this way,” Daedrig growled over the ruffling wind around them.

Sama’s hair pulled a Potion bottle out of her pack, she bit the seal, pulled it off, and then inverted the contents over the length of the prone Wizard. “You’re going invisible. Stay there. Daedrig, cover my side.” The Wizard’s hand just flicked acknowledgement before he vanished from sight.

There was a blast of lightning somewhere, and a couple shouts shook the floor as some chi-users unleashed something that caused a lot of enhanced gunfire to go off. Daedrig smoothly switched the direction of his cover fire as Sama shot into the motion down the aisle.

Thirty yards was literally a couple seconds, not much time for even a professional shooting team to blink and realize someone was coming to assault them with a glowing Sword, shouting out, “Contact, contact! We’ve found her!” and massing up the Wards to take her charge.

They’re here after me?! Sama’s eyes got wide as she glanced up at the yellow distortion in the air normal human eyes couldn’t see. That was drought-out gas, which literally blew open red blood cells and turned a human being into a bag of blood bleeding out in seconds if it got into them. Even skin contact was going to cause topical bursting of capillaries and create a bloody scene. It could kill everyone in here, eventually, even if they didn’t breathe it in.

They had deployed such a thing just on the chance they could fight her?!

“TREMBLE!” she snarled, and her Sword blazed with golden edges and two killing notes shattered the air... and as her Null hit them, shattered those Ward Walls, too.

They were shooting full-auto enhanced Warlock fire at her as the Wards went down, but she was moving through and between them, Tremble burning Enmity and leaving a trail of bloody Human banefire as she wove through them, taking a couple hits that her DR snarled at and her healing factor started dealing with... and six men died to one swirling blow, dropping in various pieces behind her.