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Double-Blind CH91
🕑 Added 2022-05-12 00:59:21 +0000 UTCThe throbbing rumble of explosions rattled in my ears like an overactive bass line. <Persuasion> didn’t go smoothly this time. Miles was right that the man was disciplined, but he looked anxious, and any visible emotional fragility indicated a more significant underlying weakness. That observation was the only thing that kept me from visibly recoiling back from the bad connection. I couldn’t afford to fail here.
I took his resistance apart, looking for the reason he fought so strongly. There was loyalty there—not the dogmatic loyalty, but loyalty to an individual, the sort I was thoroughly familiar with.
He feared death, but what he feared more than anything else was losing someone.
And I knew exactly how to handle that.
An image sprang up from my subconscious far too quickly. A scenario I’d refused to let myself imagine, pushed below the surface, only to have its roots spread deeper and deeper.
I showed him an image of the end of the world. His axe carving through a faceless User’s throat at the top of a pile of bodies. He whipped around then, looking for someone to fight, anyone. Only to find himself entirely alone.
Slowly, he moved from one city block to another. The buildings were shelled out husks of their prior glory, reflected on the ground in a continuous fractured layer of broken glass.
<System Notification: Congratulations. As the last User left alive, you are the victor of this incursion.>
As the hopelessness and despair overtook him, his mind harkened back to this single moment in time. If only he hadn’t been so unflinching, so utterly focused on following orders, maybe he could have saved his family, his friends. The person he cared for, above all others.
But no. In this nightmare vision of the future, he was alone. And he would always be alone.
He began to leave his post at the door. “Fuck this.”
The woman caught his arm. “Elias told us not to move.”
“And where is he?” The man asked roughly.
“You’re being an idiot.”
“I don’t care.” The man took off down the alley at a brisk jog.
“Don’t leave me here.” The woman hissed after him, cringing as another explosion sent loose plaster and gravel plummeting down from the rooftop.
<Miles: Damn. Could have sworn he was solid. Good read.>
I was about to respond when I realized he was already moving, creeping up in that smooth, practiced motion that seemed to easily blend him with his environment. I frowned at the angle. He was approaching from her right, pressing far enough against the wall that she wasn’t likely to spot him if she wasn’t pumping perception or any observation related feats.
If she was running <Awareness> though, she’d see him clear as day.
Miles reached into his pocket and withdrew a small metal disk with rounded edges, no bigger than a hockey puck. There was a quiet whir, barely audible over the chaos as the disk took flight over the woman’s head, dipping down on her other side, slightly behind her head and to the left.
The disk edged forward, testing her sight-lines.
I disregarded my previous concern. Miles not only knew about <Awareness,> he knew exactly where the expanded range of vision ended. Meaning he was using it himself. The purpose of the disk was to check if <Awareness>—or similar observational feats were present.
The leather slack of the <Modified Mage-Bane Garrote> hung loosely in front of him as he gripped both braided handles on either end. The one he’d given me didn’t look particularly special, save a small line of blue thread embedded in the center.
He struck out like a constrictor snake, keeping one hand firmly in place at her back with the other looping around her neck. In the same motion, he raised his leg and stamped the back of her knee, bringing her sputtering to the ground.
Miles indicated for me to come closer with a smirk as he held the woman still, in total command of her movement, applying pressure to her calve with her foot.
I didn’t care if it was cocky or condescending. The only definitive thing I knew about Miles was that he was experienced. If he wanted to teach me, I wouldn’t waste the lesson.
<Miles: Doing this right is about control. If you apply pressure with both hands, it’s far too difficult to moderate, and it takes less effort to crush someone’s windpipe than you’d think. Your left hand stays as still as possible at the base of the neck. Your right hand applies the pressure. After five seconds, they’ll be out of mana. Fifteen seconds minimum, twenty seconds maximum to black them out. Count Mississipis if you have to. It’ll feel dumb, but it works.>
The woman was trying desperately to wiggle her fingers between the leather bond and the compressed skin of her neck. It occurred to me that this was mainly working due to shock. If she’d drawn a weapon immediately, Miles would be having a much more difficult time. Her eyes were wide and desperate as I approached, one hand reaching out to me and falling just short.
It hit me all at once. The gravity of what we were doing. This wasn’t fighting nameless monsters in a dungeon anymore. As the woman struggled, my mind caught over how normal she looked. She was middle-aged, dark pepper hair interspersed with salt. Exactly the sort of person you passed in the supermarket and never gave a second look. Just normal.
She gurgled, and then her body went limp. Miles grunted, hefting her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry as he lifted the woman. I moved in front of him, searching for a place to dump the unconscious body. We placed her behind a stack of palettes, well out of view from the alley. If the other guard returned, he’d likely assume she’d abandoned post.
<Myrrdin: How long will she be under?>
<Miles: Ordinarily? Not long. Ten to twenty seconds at most.>
I stared at him in alarm
<Miles: Relax. There’s a reason we’re using a specific weapon for this. The mana drain aspect isn’t just an anti-magic measure. If you’ve overused a skill, you know what I’m talking about. Even being somewhat low gives you a headache. Run out completely, and you’ll be out of touch for a while. She’ll be out for an hour at least, groggy and disoriented for far longer.>
Miles returned to the lit doorway and pulled a small black key from his satchel. It was lacking traditional tines, a smooth line of dark metal where the ridges would be. That was unexpected. I’d thought he’d pick the lock, or have a non-traditional way of forcing it open.
“I’d give my right nut for a snake cam,” Miles muttered under his breath. He pressed his hand against the door. <Ordinator’s Emulation>ticked in the back of my head, telling me he was using a skill.
“Give me a second.” I wasn’t ecstatic about using Talia in front of a third party. The last encounter with the suits wasn’t long ago. If one of them spotted her in my vicinity, it wouldn’t be a hard jump to connect the dots. But maybe I didn’t have to. ”Can you recon?”
”I will do literally anything if it means being out of this dagger.” Talia rumbled back to me.
”Stay out of sight. We know next to nothing about Miles, and giving him more information about my abilities at this point is asking for trouble.”
”Easy enough.”
I withdrew <Broken Legacy> and bent down. There was a rubber buffer at the bottom of the door, ensuring an airtight seal, but it was easy enough to move aside. Ignoring Miles’ curious expression, I forced the knife through the gap.
A small tendril of smoke rose from the gap, indicating Talia had taken her traditional form.
Miles blinked, looking from the doorway, to me, to the doorway again. “And the point of that was?”
I quietly relayed the information Talia was giving me. “Three people. Two of them aren’t wearing gear, doing some menial work and trying not to freak out. The other one will be a problem.”
“Strength build?” Miles asked.
“Spellsword.” I said sourly. “Doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned, considering the circumstances. Not sure how we’re going to do this, without one of them getting a chance to shoot off a message.”
There was a long moment as Miles appeared to be deciding. He studied me again, as if he couldn’t quite make up his mind until he finally came to a decision. “You tipped your hand a little with the knife. It’s only fair I do the same.”
