Chapter 112: Run Sinnerman

Chapter 112: Run Sinnerman

Teasing the girl you like is fun. Truth was feeling giddy as he quickly walked away from the little chapel. Teasing the girl you like is fun, watching her wriggle and not move as you whisper secrets and affection in her ear. It was scary too. Opening up. Speaking a name he had left unspoken since his murder. There was something about the saying of it, setting the words free on the wind. As though they would be carried directly to his killers.

It was scary because it meant that Truth Medici hadn’t died, or at least hadn’t stayed dead. He’d been hidden in a well for five years and in “Tommy Wells” for the last... How long had it been? A month? A couple of months? Not that long. Felt a lot longer. The days were just so full. Everything was new to Tommy Wells. The world was just so big, and he was so free in it. A wild, disorienting freedom, where he found strange new thoughts and a growing sense of who he was. A world beyond the tip of his nose and the brush of his whiskers.

Squeak Squeak, little rat. You are learning to look up.

He walked quickly to Merkovah’s room. It was as spare as always. Merkovah was waiting, smiling. He touched a talisman, and dense thickets of anti-surveillance wards sprang to life.

“I wish to emphasize that Nag Hamadi’s views on the nature of God and the universe do not represent those of the TEMPLE of Nag Hamadi, nor that of Siphios Reform Orthodoxy in general. You should in no way rely on it for any future theological choices you may make.”

“Got it.”

“Other things, however, you may rely on it for. I am... honestly surprised you figured out what was happening to the world. I had a whole thing ready to show you, to persuade you it was really happening.”

“I’ve had an unusual view of things between working for Starbrite and traveling around since my termination.”

“Which I must say I have wondered about. While I have met a rare few who were fired from Starbrite and lived, I have never met someone who left the company after receiving the System. Frankly, even after extensive experimentation, I thought it was impossible.”

Truth could vividly imagine what that “experimentation” looked like.

“I didn’t.”

“Pardon?”

“I didn’t live.”

“You seem remarkably fit for a dead man.”

“I eat clean.”

“I do think you would make a fine Desrin, once you developed the faintest shred of faith in God.”

“Not Siphios?”

“It is, unfortunately, quite difficult to convert. Not impossible, mind you. And while I would be delighted if you did, you would have a religious obligation to live in Siphios and swear allegiance to the King.”

“Wouldn’t mind living in Siphios. Probably going to pass on the rest.”

“I thought as much.”

The conversation lulled. It seemed neither really knew how to initiate what they both knew was coming next. Eventually, Merkovah made a face like he was trying to chuckle and failing.

“Mr. Wells, would you say that I have been sincere with you?”

“Largely. You have only told me one outright lie that I recall, and generally, your manipulations have been tolerable. All in all, working with you has been very positive.”

Merkovah gave him half a smile for that one.

“You continue to have the oddest way of seeing things.”

“Paying someone is manipulating them. Taking them on a vision journey is another sort of manipulation. A holy sword, a wise, benevolent teacher, powerful magic; I suspect you would have gotten me a horse if I didn’t already have my two-wheeler.” Truth half smiled right back. “I was wrong. You don’t want a hitter. You want your own kind of hero.”

Merkovah did chuckle at that. “It seems that I succeeded, at least in part.”

“Nah.”

“Oh no?”

“Nope. You made a terrorist. So. Let’s talk about what we’re going to blow up.”

Merkovah almost fell out of his chair.

“Young Man!”

“Tommy Wells, Talisman Maintenance. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“You damn well aren’t!”

“I wanted to be one. I could have been a good one.”

“Young man, swords are always masculine! Masculine!”

“Sure.”

“Wait, what about vehicles? Machinery generally?”

“Not at the same level, no. I pick them up at about the same rate as everyone else, I think.”

“Alright, hand-to-hand combat?”

“Yep.”

“Squad tactics?”

“Nope. I mean, I know how. I was trained on it, but not... supernaturally good at it or anything.”

“Grand strategy?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure I know what that is.”

“Mmm... any solutions for the present crisis leap to mind?”

“No. That’s why I’m talking to you.”

“Ah. Fair enough.”

And so on and so on. Merkovah was very interested in what happened at Kofi, and they went over it a few times.

“It was never clear to anyone why or how that spiritual attack occurred. The Godchild Army denied all responsibility, but then, they would. I of course suspected Starbrite, but I haven't found much to substantiate that theory. This is the first direct evidence I have that someone, someone quite senior, at Starbrite knew the attack was coming.”

“How do you figure?”

“Your squad was told to form the most powerful spell you could, given your level, that would provide little to no protection against physical attacks, but superlative protection against spiritual attacks. Seconds later, the attack struck. How do you not make that connection?”

Truth had to concede there. Later-

“Do not tell anyone you were part of the attack on Fort Leucre. No one. In fact, to the extent possible, let that knowledge die with you.”

“Happy to. Any particular reason?”

“Other than the massacre of dozens of civilians? Does there need to be more?”

“I suppose not.” He couldn’t imagine Etenesh smiling after learning that about him.

“Let's press on. Who, exactly, did you guard on your bodyguard details? Every name will help.”

A bit later- “You’re joking.”

“No, I really was dead for five-ish years.”

“That I can almost believe. No, I mean, you're joking when you say it’s not important how you “got better.”

“I wouldn’t be a very good terrorist if I went around shouting my secrets. Although it’s not really repeatable. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Haaah. Ok. Just. Going to table that for a minute. You say the System ejected from you or tried to. Please describe the process in as much detail as possible.”

Truth did, without mentioning the whole “mutilated soul” angle.

“Tearing out part of your soul? Are you certain about that?”

“Pretty certain. The System was definitely trying to leave with a chunk of me.”

Merkovah grinned, then started laughing. He tilted his head back and laughed like his sides would split. Truth saw tears running down the side of his face. After a minute, the old monster gathered himself and muttered something. It sounded like “Thank you-” and a name.

“At last. At last. Centuries. It has taken centuries. Heroes beyond counting have died. But at last. At our darkest hour. The enemy gives us the weapon of our deliverance.” Merkovah wiped away his tears and looked sharply at Truth.

“Mr. Medici, I intend to train you to a competent level with Incisive- that is, the foresight, the cutting, the armor, and maybe just a smidge of the rhetoric. I then intend to use a few natural treasures, national treasures, here in Siphios to force your growth to Level Four. The faster you can cultivate, the easier and more successful that process will be. I will then instruct you on the Sword of Moshe. By the time you have a preliminary grasp of that, you will be highly resistant to passive, lower-level magics, possessed of some resistance to mid-level magics, and between the Meditations, Incisive, and the Sword, you will be almost impossible to scry on passively. Active attempts to magically find you will also massively struggle.

“I promised you these things before, but let me explain exactly what I want you to do. I want you to cut off the System from the magic that feeds it. And then we really hurt them. Tell me, young man. Do you know much about necromancy?”