II-91 Arms Deal (II)

The worst Trespassers are those who were someone in their past life. They come here with an image of who they were, bearing expectations to fulfill their egos.

Most often, they die. Because this is a place of rawness. Raw of power. Raw of character. Raw of dominance. There are social contracts here; bargains and arrangements as well, but ultimately, what makes someone a ruler or a master here isn’t the belief that they are powerful, but power itself.

And, comparatively, many of Earth’s great figures are not true warriors, true tyrants, true legends.

Their ends are so frequently despair inducing. Or, for some, confidence shattering. But for those few who live up to their legend, who were constrained by the limitations of reality, things might just be the inverse altogether.

A case study could be found in the form of General Douglas MacArthur. For whatever flaws he had in life, for his failings and reactions, this a place that rewards ambition, arrogance, and an unchecked need to reign…

-Sarah Moonscar on “Notable Figures”

II-91

Arms Deal (II)

“I would like to apologize,” the General began, his face hard as stone, his tone not genuine at all. He eyed Wei briefly as a wall of soldiers stood between him and William, keeping them from each other. “I would like to apologize to you. Because that word wasn’t meant for you—hell, you’re not real enough for the word to apply. The word is meant for him! Him and his people!”

“Yeah, ‘my people,’” William sneered. He saluted the General with his middle finger. “I am your people, you fucking idiot. My line’s probably been in America longer than yours. But hey, since I’m not actually talking to Ridgeway, I realize that we need to use simpler words—”

The General threw his hat at William. The latter just inched his head slightly to the left and let it whiz past. “Yeah, Ridgeway would have used a grenade—”

“STOP TALKING ABOUT RIDGEWAY—”

Kalrus cleared his throat. “I have shown the young master the gun.”

Wei nodded, awkwardly, unsure how to aid the situation. “I have seen the gun. I like guns. Shooting them. It was… interesting.”

Both the General and William stared at Wei with differing expressions.

“You shot the gun,” the General asked.

“It works?” William added right after.

The two men shared a glare, but returned their attention to Wei a second later. The young master was getting tired of this pointless tension.

“Yes, it works quite well,” Wei said. “Better than well, in fact. There are some problems. The projectile’s speed is abhorrently slow, and I don’t fully understand how the mechanisms inside function. What I do know is that some of these materials are rare, and that I suffer from a lack of bullets. Thankfully, the current one I’m using responds.” As he finished his account of the negatives, Wei’s lip twitched something into a vicious smirk. “It does, however, kill demons effectively. Their souls, they light up like fires. It’s quite pretty.”

The General’s mouth was slightly open. Kalrus grinned at him quietly, and MacArthur chuckled. “Quite pretty. Suppose recruitment was right for once. They said you were a prime candidate for Wrath—had a whole war force positioned to make a fight with the uppity bastards at Pride over you, only for the Lodge to steal you out from under us.”

“I fear I am no one’s candidate but my own,” Wei replied. He was tired of politics and lying. Tired of being used as some kind of golden pawn. “I am willing to work with anyone that interests me—or who furthers my ends. I suspect you all are the same way. But I am not selling myself on a leash.” He paused. “But the part about killing the Duke—tell me more. Tell me about that, about how many more of these guns you can produce, what else you want for them, and what you want from the Lodge.”

A soldier came by to hand MacArthur his hat, the man let out a contented sigh. He scowled at William as he put his pipe back in his mouth. “I see he’s got a lot more of his mother in him. Knows how to listen and negotiate.”

“She would have bitten your head off,” William muttered darkly under his breath. “And Wei here’s just feeling nice for now. He gets that way when anyone gets him a weapon he likes.”

“I do not,” Wei said, trying to keep the indignation out of his voice and the pout from reaching his face.

“Wei. We got you a personal armory for all the weird weapons you asked for by your tenth birthday. You had dart throwers, bows, spears, staffs, sectioned-staffs, hammers, whips—”

“You and mother did it to further my education!” Wei shot back.

“I remember how you almost broke down in tears when I pulled out a manual instead of that dagger you were eyeing at the market.”

“I was nine! All children appreciate good tools.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you worshiped that thing. You were cradling it, trying to pour your Essence into it.”

“It could have awakened! I heard it speak.”

“It was a street vendor knife, Wei. You’re just… you’ve always been like this.”

“Yes. A-and I’m not ashamed.”

“Okay,” William finished, nodding.

Wei did his best to hide his discomfort. “I am normal. There is nothing wrong with liking weapons! Nothing.”

One of the soldiers snorted. “Yeah. Weapons are nice. My pa got me a shotgun when I was eight. Loved that thing. The local coyotes didn’t so much.” Then he started laughing. “Good times.”

“See,” Wei said, pointing at the soldier.

William opened his mouth to argue further, but then let out a low growl. “Fine. Yeah. Okay.” He looked between Wei and Kalrus. “Listen, can we talk first. Before we all get back together with Truman’s least favorite idiot and Dr. Strangeorc.”

Wei blinked. “Dr. Strangeorc?”

“He’s referencing a film,” Kalrus said casually. “Your father likely imagines himself to be rather amusing.”

“No,” William replied. “I’m just an asshole. Wei?”

The young master wanted to deny his father this—to spite him in front of the others, but whatever loathing he felt, whatever issues between them, he needed to project a front of strength in front of the outsiders. William Yu was bound to Wei’s will. Betrayal was impossible there, so this couldn’t be a scheme, and right now, Wei wanted a bit more insight into the ways of these Trespassers.

“Forgive me, General, Forgemaster. We will be but a moment.”

“Take your time,” MacArthur said. “Just keep him away from me when you get back. In fact, he stays out of my office when we talk.”

That earned him another middle finger from William as he walked away. A message snaked out from the Trespasser a moment thereafter: “We need to get back in touch with Bishop. The General’s got a hit list.”

“A hit list?” Wei asked, keeping his face impassive. “I assume this is related to me. He wishes for me to kill even more people for him?”

“Us. Rivals. Enemies in the Base. It will let them expand their influence down here and consolidate more gains. MacArthur talks big and, frankly, compared to most of the degenerates in Wrath, he’s not that much of a bastard. Smarter than them, too. Problem is, his ego is big enough to belong to Pride, and so no one gets along with him. I’m surprised he wasn’t knocked off as a Knight.”

So far, the General’s demands didn’t sound overly unreasonable. Being a hired murderer didn’t quite sit well with Wei, but considering this was a city populated by monsters and Sinners, there was a good chance that he would be doing the Claimed Hells a service even if he took up recreational serial killing.

“Depending on who our targets are, it might be acceptable. So. Tell me the actually distasteful part.” William just looked at him, eyes betraying a flash of sorrow. “What?”

“Nothing. Your mother would often say the exact same thing to me when spoke to her about politics. You sound just like her.”

“Bastard,” the Shell seethed. Its rage ignited like Wei’s own. “Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Tell us this now! Stay this to us now, murderer, kinslayer! These words are poison. Are venom!”

“Don’t talk to me about mother,” Wei said, speaking with every ounce of cold hate he had. “Tell me about our problem with the General.”

“He wants something else from you too. He knows about your system, and he wants Aspect Ascensions.”

That gave Wei another moment’s pause. He started to look at the General, and found both him and Kalrus staring right back. “That is…”

“It’s hard for Duke’s to advance easily. He probably wants more Skills. More power. And something else. He knows about your System in detail. He knows Sarah a bit too well, too. So we need to speak to Bishop.”

“Why not Moonscar herself?”

“Because I trust John more than I trust her. And you should too. I know you hate me, but John’s done his best for you. He’s looked out for you all the way, so even if you don’t want to listen to me, I’m asking you to have John figure things—”

“You guys talking about me?” John Bishop’s voice suddenly cut in.

Wei jumped. “A warning would be appreciated.”

Bishop let out a breath. “I would have appreciated you not cutting it so motherfucking close with that escape. I spent all that time scrubbing your traces, wiping memories so no one could get a bead on you two. Then, I had to do that shit again in the Base. While a Duke of Hell was on your asses.”

The young master rolled his eyes. “Yes. You are a miracle worker and a wonder, Master Bishop. I apologize for being startled. Truly, you are the only one that has strained himself. My act of walking through the No Demon’s Land is pathetic and feeble by comparison.”

“As long as you know,” Bishop chuckled.

“Christ, the both of you are turning into teenage girls. Bishop. Probably need you over to take point on some talks with the General. They, uh, gave Wei a gun.”

“A gun? The gun?”

“I think so.”

“They actually managed to make that shit?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“How the fuck would I know? I’ve been away. You guys were supposed to be keeping track of all the materials brought over from Earth. It was one of the few things that the Lodge and the Inheritors had a deal on.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been hard to reach the Inheritors recently due to certain recent happenings. You might have heard something on the news.” Bishop sighed. “Alright. Wei, I’m gonna need to use you as a leapfrog.”

The young master grunted his assent, and a second thereafter, he felt his Enlightenment strain and pulse. A purple glow emanated from him, and a series of exclamations sounded from the soldiers. Some of them brought up their guns, but MacArthur simply held up his hands, barking orders for them to calm. Slowly, threads of light left Wei’s mind, and threaded a new individual unto the scene: John Bishop.

“Well, well,” the General said, looking Bishop up and down. “Looks like I finally get to speak to an actual representative of the Lodge. I hoped you weren’t outsourcing your negotiations to children and traitors, but the Lodge has always been… disorganized.”

“General MacArthur,” Bishop greeted with glee. “Always miserable to see you. Yeah, we were at the Lodge like to experiment from time to time. You know. To stay ahead of the curve. Don’t wanna be making old mistakes like keeping our forces segregated for no reason. Well, I can’t exactly say it’s for no reason. But we all learn at our own pace, don’t we General.”

MacArthur considered Bishop’s words and took a drag from his pipe. “Demons do help progress one’s notions of race relations.”

“That and all that elves, orcs—”

“The literal bugmen,” MacArthur added.

William offered a third middle finger to MacArthur. Another incomprehensible argument was taking shape around Wei, and he couldn’t grasp why.

“Yeah. Them too. Now. What’s this shit about you giving my new boy a gun.” Bishop eyed Kalrus. “And what kind of gun?”

“It’s called the Equalizer—” Kalrus began, but Bishop held up a hand.

“What’s the model you based it on?”

Kalrus smiled. “Winchester. 1873.”

“Damn,” Bishop whistled as he looked at Wei. “Good model.” He looked at the General and the Forgemaster. “And how’d you get the bullets?”

“Bullet,” Wei clarified.

“Bullet,” Bishop said, updating his statement. “You been snatching Trespassers somehow? Stealing materials without the big players knowing?”

“Come on,” MacArthur sneered. “You’re insulting me. And the big man upstairs.”

“The big British bastard,” Bishop finished. “But I get your meaning. I just don’t know why he would let you have the materials to do this. Might send the wrong message to the people here. That he has a preference toward the Trespassers.”

“Nothing wrong with liking your own kind.”

Bishop laughed, but there was little joy in the sound. “Do you think Mepheleon considers himself ‘our kind’? Or just another part of his plan for Earth? You got plans for America, General. I know you do. But do you think you’re the only one?”

By this point, the General’s expression was slowly deepening into a frown. 

“But let’s not be miserable yet. Let’s talk about a murder. Maybe two. Two murders sound like a great way to get the thing off this whole thing off the ground.” Bishop took a step closer to the General. “Especially when the time and conditions cannot be more perfect.”

A few seconds passed. The General pulled the pipe out of his mouth and exhaled smoke. “She’s gone back to her nest.”

“Both of them have.”

“Well. Isn’t this grand.” Both Bishop and the General eyed Wei. The latter waved for his men to leave. One after another, the soldiers filtered out of the room. As the last man went out, a surge of power left the General, and wall of fire fused over the doors and walls. “Alright. You said you have a way to deal with the Collectress without getting your own hands dirty. Is that way a certain Scion.”

“It might be. Is your plan to kill a certain Duke of Hell having our boy here blink back across using a Source Anchor connected to said Scion before unloading his gun into the Duke’s chest?”

“I think I was going to leave that up to the kid. He seems plenty good at killing anyway. Might pull some tricks we didn’t think of.”

“I also have recommendations, if he would like to hear them,” Kalrus added.

“Wait,” Wei said. “Before this goes any further, I think there is someone else we need to bring into these affairs. The Scion of Death himself. It sounds like Vendrian will be an essential part of this.”

“And just in time too. The Bastard had a Bastard.” The General snorted. “I suppose It would be wrong to deny a man the chance to hold his child.”