Chapter 129

Chapter 129

Sonya tossed the knife up and down in her hand, turning it over between her fingers. She stared at it for a moment, admiring the white material. She hadn’t brought it out of its case in a while. It was light and harder than anything that Amos had been able to make thusfar. The long blade was somewhere between a combat knife and a machete. She glanced up at the door leading out of her dojo and bounced a bit on the balls of her feet as she pulled up her hud and began putting in the settings for the doll that would come out of it. The other dolls in the test house were non-combat, used for more domestic purposes.

The ones lined up behind that door on the other hand. She popped her neck as the door opened and a doll strutted out, walking with a very familiar gait. In its hand was a knife of its own. It adjusted its posture and stood casually, hand on its hip and knife pointed at her. The flexible machine waited until she raised her own weapon, adopting the same pose. They faced one another for a moment before she tilted forward, ready–

A chime rang in her head and she groaned, “Oh come on! I was just about to-” She blinked at the name and answered immediately after changing over her voice.

<”Mister Earl! How are you sir?”> She asked, lowering her weapon and gesturing for the doll to leave. It bowed and turned back to walk into the room.

<”Mistress Ishtar, thank you for taking my call.”> He said stiffly.

Her lip twitched, <”Prichard, no need to be so formal, you’re doing good work for me. How are things?”> She asked as she twirled the knife between her fingers.

<”Craig Hart’s company has been fully acquired by the new shell corporation. At first we considered liquidating his assets but to be honest there are some interesting things in his portfolio,”> Prichard said, sounding a bit more relaxed, <”You’ll be pretty interested in some of it.”>

She raised an eyebrow, <”Oh? Corporate transactions do move slowly don’t they, what do you have for me?”> She asked, walking towards her office. The door opened with a hiss and she sent the mental command to pull up a recording of the Olympics on one of the sections of screen around the room. She sat on her desk as a file made it into her HUD. She opened it and scanned it briefly. <”What am I looking at?”>

<”A filtered list of his properties, they make up about twenty percent of the holdings in various countries he’s acquired over the years,”> He said, <”Still a pretty big list.”>

Sonya raised an eyebrow, <”Your point? What’s the filter?”>

<”Mana hotspots,”> He said with a laugh, <”Zones at a high risk for dungeon formation.”>

Sonya’s eyebrows rose and a wicked smile stretched across her face, <”Jackpot.”>

–

He walked down the hall, his cane striking the ground now and then. He didn’t need it anymore, his control over his body had improved by leaps and bounds. Even so, he still liked it, it made him feel classy. He whistled a bit as he made his way along the path, twirling his cane between his fingers now and then as he passed paintings. Paintings of himself superimposed in a number of historical events, or just famous paintings. Was it a bit egotistical? Sure, he’d admit to that. Was it also hilarious and really tied in this particular hallway’s decor? Absolutely. He snickered a little to himself as he came to a stop in front of a pair of large double doors. He glanced back the way he’d come, the high-ceiling of the dimly lit hallway giving it a cavernous feel. He reached out with his cane and rapped on it twice.

A low growl answered him, deep enough to rattle the air a bit, and he brightened. He pushed the doors open and threw his hands open in greeting. “Pavlov! Daddy’s here!” He called out into the large, darkened chamber.

Deep in the dark, a shadow shifted, and a glowing red eye opened. It was huge. Easily the size of a dinner plate. The eye swiveled unnaturally in the creature’s head before pointing in his direction. He held his arms open as something big and terrible moved. Its massive bulk shifted in the shadows, a head larger than a riding lawnmower turned in his direction. A paw hit the ground and the floor shook once then again, and again, as the massive thing barreled toward him at full speed. Charon let out a laugh as the titanic dog crashed into him, bowling him over and licking his face with a tongue as wide as a welcome mat.

He kept laughing as Pavlov licked his face, pawing the ground and pressing its nose against his head, huffing and sniffing now and then. “Good boy! Who’s a good boy!” He praised the mighty canine, the sole survivor of his initial group of zombies. Out-aging all of his zombies by half a year at the minimum. His rise to power hadn’t been easy, but Pavlov had been his constant companion and ally. He scratched at the beasts fur as the zombified hound nuzzled him, overjoyed at his attention. He pat the side of its head, “Alright buddy, let me up! Come on now!”

It let out a growling “Rowf!” of acknowledgement and pulled away, planting its rear on the ground and sitting up at attention. He had to crane his head back to look at it, even as he got up.

Blight stared at him, “My ability reverses damage on things,” He growled, “The consequence is that my body suffers the repair as age and sickness instead. I have various forms of cancer and my body is withered and broken.”

Charon raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Pavlov who snuffed once and sat down, staring at the old man. It didn’t seem interested in eating him anymore. He turned his attention back to Blight, “So you want healing from Ishtar? Get your youth back?”

Blight’s lip twitched, “I have a scheme to propose for Ishtar. My youth is just a portion of the deal and wholly unnecessary, though it would expedite things.. It will take time to achieve what I want, more than a year or two at minimum, but I’ve come to realize that I cannot achieve my ends without support.”

Charon was impressed. This guy couldn’t care less about his own body as long as it meant achieving his goals. He stood up straight and adjusted his tie, “Alright, I’m interested. Let’s see if Ishtar would be too. Whatcha got for me?”

Blight’s eyes narrowed, “There’s a man I want to kill more than anything on this earth.”

“A single murder? I could just call up the night so-” The old man coughed, loudly, cutting him off. A cough that turned into a peal of wheezing laughter. Charon blinked and his lips dipped into a frown, “You got a problem with the Night Society?”

“You are suggesting throwing pebbles at a mountainside,” The old man chortled cruelly, leaning back in his wheelchair, “This person won’t go down that easily.”

“Who are we talking about?” Charon asked.

“First Wind,” Blight snarled, clenching his fists, “First Wind! That insidious wretched malcontent!” He slammed his fists on his wheelchair, “He runs around destroying natural wonders and isolated pollution centers to test the strength of his abilities, then he blames it all on me!” He roared, his fingers popping and cracking under the pressure of his rage. “I may have been an ecological activist at one time, but I stopped my activities after the flash!” He swore, spitting on the ground, “I’ve been going around restoring damaged natural sites! I was working on healing the great barrier reef!”

The old man’s rage was palpable, “I heard you wrecked the reef,” Charon said.

“First Wind!” The old man nearly shrieked before slipping into a coughing fit, “That piece of shit came in while I was working, took pictures of my ship, and then ravaged the reef with his ability! He picks isolated spots to practice and train. I’ve been monitoring him. The damage to the redwoods in California was him too!”

Charon pursed his lips and glanced back at Pavlov who was laying on his side and paying absolutely no attention at this point. Charon huffed through his nostrils. He was trying to look vaguely interested while he was actually extremely interested. Ishtar had made it a point to give him a list of names that she was explicitly interested in dealing with. Among that list was First Wind. Each and every one of them she wanted some sort of role in killing. He rubbed his neck with his cane, though, and tilted his head in thought. If he came across too eager then the man might make more demands than necessary. More importantly, this sounded like the kind of thing that Ishtar should address directly.

“Hmm...” He hummed, stepping away for a moment and starting to pace, “Let’s say I believe you. Do you have a plan? A higher goal than just killing this son of a bitch? Sounds like you can’t go around healing the world forever,” Charon said, turning back to him, “Ishtar likes long term plans too.”

Blight stared at him for a moment, “I’m putting together a team and a possible successor. We have a few plans in mind to bring First Wind down, but again, it will take time,” He looked down at his hands, “As for my other activities,” He trailed off for a moment before speaking, “If she deigns to return my youth to me, I’ll not only start healing the world again, I’ll start attacking pollution centers again if she wants. I’ll be the bad guy they made me out to be if that’s what it takes to earn her favor.”

Charon raised his eyebrows and smirked, “You know what? I think we could do business,” He said and pulled out his phone again, “Let me get in touch with Mephisto and you and the dealmaker himself can have a little talk. If everything goes well, I might be able to convince the Queen to make a visit. I’m sure her direct intervention is much more potent than her age-reversing contracts.”

The withered man let out a breath of relief and slumped in his seat, “Consideration is all I ask,” He said with a sigh, “Thank you, Charon.”

“Just doing my job, Blight. Regardless of whether or not you’re actually guilty of your crimes, I consider it an honor to be hosting one of the top ten in my club. Shall I set you up with a room?” Charon asked, finishing a quick text message and sending it off.

Blight smiled at him, “That would be nice.”