Chapter Four Hundred and Two. Clothing, and the sudden lack thereof.

Chapter Four Hundred and Two. Clothing, and the sudden lack thereof.

Bob looked in the mirror and blinked. He recognized himself, but the suit he was wearing somehow brought his appearance together in a way that he'd never experienced before.

The suit was a dark charcoal gray, clinging closely to his broad shoulders and tapering down to his waist. The suit he'd worn to Fermilab had hung off his frame, boxy, with a tendency to bunch.

The shirt underneath was the palest shade of blue, with ever so slightly darker blue pinstripes, while the tie and pocket square he wore was a deeper shade.

His slacks matched his jacket, and also fit more closely than the off-the-rack slacks he'd worn to Fermilab.

Larry had grumbled a bit about Bob's shoes, which had been summoned, but considering the size of Bob's feet he hadn't had anything that would fit him, although he did have a cobbler that he'd recommended.

When all the clothing came together, Bob was surprised at just how good everything felt. Despite wearing an undershirt, the shirt, and the jacket, he was neither overly warm nor did he feel like he was constricted.

"Now, that's how a suit should fit," Larry said with a self-satisfied smirk. "All we need to do is have Hannah whip you a pair of shoes for those boats you call feet, and get a stylist to give your hair a trim."

Bob looked in the mirror, turning his head as he examined his hair. To be fair, it was a little shaggy. He'd intended to cut it a few days earlier, but he'd put it off. One of the interactions with his fellow humans that he'd always enjoyed was having his hair cut, and he'd planned to go to a barber shop and have it done now that he was back on Earth.

"I'm not sure about a stylist, but I was planning on having a haircut," Bob replied.

Larry snorted. "I'm guessing you just went to great clips, right?" He shook his head. "Not today, not while you're wearing my suit."

He pulled out his cell phone and tapped the screen before holding it to his ear. "Carrie, it's Larry. I need a favor, I've just finished kitting out a client, and he desperately needs your attention."

Bob twisted as he looked in the mirror, tugging at his sleeves. Larry had objected to his armband as well as his collar, but Bob had insisted that any clothing he owned needed to be compatible with those two devices. Luckily, neither one of them was especially bulky.

"Oh, he's a tall drink of water," Larry said with a laugh. "He's tier eight, and he was a good-looking guy before he tiered up. He's a summoner, so he can provide you with a step ladder." He paused. "Yeah, he's over ten feet tall, so even sitting down you're going to need something to stand on, but like I said, he's a summoner, so he can provide."

He shot a questioning look at Bob, who nodded.

"Yeah, he's got a big date tonight," Larry grinned. "We're at the Hilton, just call when you get here."

He tucked his phone back in his pocket and smiled up at Bob. "She's around the corner, sort of. Figure fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."

Larry's phone rang just over ten minutes later, and soon after a short, slender woman was ushered into the room.

"Well, you are a tall one, aren't you?" She asked, looking up at Bob.

"I started at six three," Bob shrugged. "Just sort of kept getting bigger as I tiered up."

"Well, why don't you take a seat and I'll see what I'm working with. I'm Carrie, by the way," she said.

"Bob," he introduced himself, offering a careful handshake.

"I'll stick around, if you don't mind," Larry said. "I'm dying to see the final product."

"You've watched me work a hundred times," Carrie laughed. "It's up to Bob."

"I'm okay," Bob shrugged again.

"Ok, how about you summon me a little scaffold so I can get around you?" Carrie asked.

Bob concentrated for a moment as he pushed his mana into the pattern for a Persistent Effect Summon Mana-Infused Object spell.

A circular platform appeared around him, complete with a short set of steps to allow Carrie to ascend more easily.

"Oh, that'll work nicely," she smiled, rushing up the platform, running her fingers through his hair. "Nice and thick," she murmured, as she continued. "It looks like you have a bit of a cowlick back here, but if we go with a nicely touseled, carefree sort of look, it won't be an issue."

"I normally just get a two guard on the sides and top," Bob offered hesitantly.

"Oh, no, no, no," Carrie shook her head. "That just won't do. You don't need the extra height, but the extra length will help lengthen your face, just a bit. Honestly, you don't need much, but there is almost always room for improvement."

"Well, I can still wear my helmet as it is, so I can't imagine that whatever you do will prevent that," Bob paused. "You're not going to magically make my hair longer or anything, right?"

"I could," Carrie said teasingly. "It's one of the first tricks you learn as a stylist nowadays." She leaned forward and faux whispered in his ear. "It turns out that when you can grow someone's hair back out, it doesn't matter if you botch the cut," she laughed. "Greatest tool for learning how to cut hair, ever."

"Luckily for you, I was a bit beyond that stage when magic appeared, so while I've practiced using it, normally with clients who want to experiment a bit, I doubt I'll need to do so for you," Carrie finished.

"I never really cared that much about my hair," Bob admitted. "As long as it is clean and not in the way, it didn't matter."

"Well, I can assure you that your date will appreciate you putting in the extra effort," Carrie assured him.

"It's not a date," Bob replied, reflexively.

"Yes," Harv drew out the word.

"This is Special Agent Johnson with the Department of Immigration and Citizenship. We were notified that you entered the country earlier today by way of the spaceport in Texas, is that correct?"

"Yes," Harv replied.

"Mr. Eilodon, are you aware that you have been declared persona non-grata by the State Department following an incident where you lost control of yourself and killed a dozen police officers?"

Harv blinked. "Yes, I do, but that was years ago, before the System integration."

He could Special Agent Johnson sigh.

"There is no statute of limitations in this matter, Mr. Eilodon," Special Agent Johnson explained. "You are not welcome in the United States of America. The customs agent who allowed you to pass through noted in your file that he did so because he feared for his immortal soul. Did you threaten Customs' Agent Harford?"

"No?" Harv shook his head. "He asked what I planned on doing during my stay, and I told him I'd be doing a bit of shopping and taking in the sights."

"We'll review the video from the interview then," Special Agent Johnson continued. "Regardless, you aren't supposed to be here. I would like to invite you to leave willingly and under your own power. I recognize that as you are tier eight, you have the capability to resist, but I implore you not to do so. The United States will not accept a challenge to its sovereignty, and despite your power, we will prevail, despite the cost in lives lost."

Harv sighed. He didn't really need to be in Los Angeles. He was basically just killing time for a few days before they went back to Thayland.

"Ok," Harv said slowly. "I'm willing to leave, but I don't really have anywhere to go. Unless you can just portal me back to the spaceport? I could live on the Freedom until everyone is done."

"Unfortunately your ship is still resting on United States soil," Special Agent Johnson replied. "We would be happy to provide you with a flight, free of charge, to anywhere you'd care to go."

"Can I bring some of my friends with me?" Harv asked. "Eli, Eddi, and Wayna are all Thayland natives as well, and we don't have anything specific that we need to do while everyone else catches up on Earth."

"In the spirit of cooperation, we would be happy to pay for their flights as well," Special Agent Johnson assured him.

"Alright, let me talk it over with them and we'll figure out where we'd like to go. If you'll give me your phone number I'll call you back in maybe twenty minutes?"

Special Agent Johnson provided his contact information and ended the call.

Harv grimaced. It seemed that the incident would continue to haunt him, in more ways than one.

He tapped his armband, sending a message to Eli, Eddi, and Wayna. He knew that Bailli and Erick already had plans for the evening, and likely for the next day as well.

As the elevator doors opened, they were assaulted by a cacophony of noise and flashes of light.

Bob reacted instantly, sending the four thousand mosquitoes he kept out as his Eternal Servant skill flooding out.

At the same time, Dave launched an explosive blast of acid, while Auruffra appeared in front of the doors, and Jessica put up a Shield of Protection on all of them.

That was when the screaming started.

Looking over the massive dire wolf, Bob could see that what had appeared to have been an attack, had in fact been a large group of people with cameras and microphones.

"Fuck, it's a bunch of reporters," Bob cursed, calling back his swarms, trying to ignore how pale the now prone figures were.

"Ah, shit," Dave exclaimed.

"They'll be fine," Jessica huffed, stepping out of the elevator, Auruffra moving aside, then stretching out her arms as a sphere of light burst out from her, washing over the lobby.

Bob recognized the Animancy Blast spell, and knew that Jessica would be able to heal the damage the people had suffered.

Stepping out of the elevator, Bob winced as he looked around the lobby. The reporters were panicking after their near brush with death, while some of the quicker were becoming outraged at the damage their equipment had suffered. He thought it was a little amusing that they were more concerned with their melted cameras than the fact their clothes had melted as well.

Shaking his head, he tapped out a message to Harv.

While he could cast a System-less ritual repair spell, he didn't have a lot of practice doing so. Harv could cast it in less than a hundred seconds, while it would probably take Bob ten minutes, maybe longer.

"Well, that was unexpected," Amanda murmured as she dismissed Auruffra.

"Thank you for healing them up," Bob told Jessica. "I messaged Harv to come down and cast a ritual to repair their equipment, their clothing, and the damage we did to the lobby."

"My bad," Dave admitted. "I guess we're all still a little on edge."

"We've spent the better part of two years fighting monsters for sixteen hours a day," Amanda slid her arm back under his. "We came back to resupply and relax."

"Fuck," Bob growled, drawing the attention of his friends.

"What?" Amanda asked.

"Apparently, Harv is being deported," Bob replied, eyes still locked on the screen of his armband.