Metsa was making surprisingly good time. Not amazing, since they’d loaded up everything they owned in the trailer when they left the city.
“It is hard,” Sotas said, holding a framed picture in his hand. One of the few they’d been able to recover from their home. Given to them by one of the scavengers who’d picked over the rubble before they’d returned. “Having recovered so little.”
“Hard to blame them,” Metsa said, keeping her eyes on the road. Both of them knew how hard it could be to survive, especially when the world was going crazy.
“The madness spreads,” Sotas said, sighing.
“That’s one way to put it. Can’t believe someone called in the Imperial Guard,” Metsa ground out as she took them across a broken field, an old shortcut between proper roads. “We barely finished cleaning up our mess, and they land like the fist of the Empress.”
“It is… unfortunate,” Sotas said, nodding while pressing the picture against his forehead.
Imperial guard.
In Vaskerville.
It was, in a word, insanity.
There’d been no war. The marshals had tried to ask for help, to restore Imperial order.
The Guard had been more ruthless than the Hunters.
Black carapaced armor in the streets, dropship landing in the heart of Vaskerville, and a damn Priestess of the Empress giving speeches about hope and unity while standing on a stage literally soaked in blood.
“They weren’t there for our little toss-up with the marshals. Did you find out what drug them out here?” Metsa asked, though she had a terrible feeling she knew.
After all. It was in the name. They were guards.
“Yes. They escort a priestess. Perhaps an archpriestess, though none were certain,” Sotas said, setting the picture down between his legs and picking up a set of utensils, running his hand over them slowly.
It hurt to see him like this. Carefully etching each item into his memory, as if afraid he’d never hold them again. As if…
“Knew there was a priestess. Did anyone figure it out. Might take us exactly zero guesses to know where she’s going,” Metsa said, shaking her head as they rumbled up and onto the new road. “But did anyone else put it together?”
“This is true. According to her speech, she was claiming this thing was proof of the Empress’ mercy,” Sotas said, voice weary. “A sign of hope.”
“Well, she got one part right,” Metsa said, closing her eyes for half a second before snapping them back to the road. “Never should’ve left the kid.”
“It was right,” Sotas said, straightening and dropping the utensils back in the bag with none of the care he’d been showing a second earlier. “And it is worth more than we have paid.”
“Damn straight it is,” Metsa said, reaching over and squeezing his hand. “Now we just need to catch up to him before he manages his next trick.”
“This, I think, will be easy.”
…Isekai-eh…
“You just had to say it, didn’t you,” Metsa said, glaring at the warp-demon stretched across the bridge ahead of them.
Several days of easy travel, almost to the foothills, and then they’d come across the monstrosity.
“We could go around,” Sotas suggested.
Metsa nodded. They could go around. It’d only cost them a few hours to get to the next nearest bridge. “But that would leave it to make its way downstream, causing havoc in the Infinite.”
“A tougher fight too, I think, should we come back later.”
“And what’re we gonna do about him,” Metsa asked, thumbing towards the man who’d pulled his elkheart to a stop nearby. She wasn’t much of a elkheart person, but that thing was nearly twice the size of any other she’d seen.
The man was little different from most marshals, though he did carry himself like he had a bigger stick up his backside than most of them. Maybe it went far enough to reach his spine.
“An ally, for this, I am certain. For after?” Sotas spread his hands wide, flexing them once.
Metsa nodded, then dismounted the buggy, moving over to the man on the elkheart, Sotas staying behind, covering her from the far side. She stopped well out of spitting range, calling up to the man. “You wanna help us deal with this thing? Or you gonna be a problem?”
“If you intend to fight, I shall stand beside you,” the man said, tipping his hat to her. “I am Adam Boltom, high marshal of the Empire, sworn defender of the law and the innocent. Who do I have the honor of fighting beside this day?”
“Well ain’t you a fancy one,” Metsa said, smiling despite herself. I’d been a while since she met a marshal in Vaskerville who took himself seriously. Annoying as they could be, they were a damn sight better than the rest. “I’m Metsa, sometimes known as Huntress Carnaga. And this is my partner, Hunter Sotas.”
“I am doubly blessed, to have such noble companions for such a challenge,” the man said, tipping his hat to them both again.
“Damn, been… how long has it been since an Imp’s called me noble, dear?” Metsa asked over her shoulder without taking her eyes off the man.
“It has been twenty-three years, my love. And it was not so respectful, that time,” Sotas said, lowering the rifle he’d been pointing at the marshal.
“Twenty-three years, and last time they were implying I was anything but,” Metsa said, spitting to the side, more to see how he’d react than any other reason.
While a small frown did dimple his face, she couldn’t tell if that was from the spit or the fact someone would address her so. She might’ve overplayed her hand a bit, but it’d been a stressful month, and messing with the marshal was almost as much fun as she expected the upcoming fight to be.
“I have heard tales of your deeds since I was knee high to my grandfather,” the man said, shifting. “Had I heard such speech, I would have challenged the man myself.” He straightened, clearing his throat. “However, much as I would personally enjoy hearing more of your history, we have a beast that blocks our path, and I a duty I must fulfill.”
“I like this one,” Metsa said to Sotas. “Can we keep him?”
“I do not believe so, my love,” Sotas said from the back of the buggy, where he was sorting through the equipment they’d been able to salvage. It was sad that even if the trailer had survived, they wouldn’t have had enough to fill even half of it. Millions of black worth of equipment, ruined, stolen, or buried too deep to be recovered within the next year.
If they were lucky, most of it would be in the last category. Assuming they went back. The future was ahead of them.
They just needed to kill an ugly bastard first.
“You want to play distraction or fire support?” Metsa called out to the marshal.
“While I would gladly serve as distraction, were it the best use of me, I doubt I would be as effective as either the Huntress Carnaga or the Man of Steel.”
“Holy cheezeballs, you really were raised on tales of us. No one’s called him that in… how long’s it been, dear?”
“Nineteen years, my love,” Sotas said even as he pulled out a steel plate. “I think, perhaps, because I no longer wear it.”
“Could always bring it back. Little soft padding,” Metsa said, waggling her eyebrows.
“For our new friend, I shall do this thing,” Sotas said, laughing as he strapped the little sheet of steel across his broad chest, bending it into shape.
A small smile tugged at the man’s lips. Metsa let him have his moment as she selected her gear, then waved him over once the man had the misfortune of remembering the stick up his backside.
“We lost the lightning gun in the attack, which is unfortunate, cause it would’ve fried this overgrown squid in seconds,” Metsa said, gesturing to the warp-demon that was struggling to pull itself out of the wedge between the bridge’s structural supports and the nearby waterfall.
“I must admit, given its size, I’m surprised the bridge is holding,” the man said as he accepted the rifle, checking it over.
“Gotta be a ring bridge. No offense, but no bridge built by locals would’ve held up long enough for us to say ‘whoops’,” Metsa said, taking the gun back long enough to show him how to operate it. “Now, let’s go make sure my dear Sotas only needs one bath today, alright?”
“Are you not worried we shall fail?” the man asked even as he directed his mount forward with his knees. “I have never seen a beast so large.”
“This thing? It’ll be a bit of a hassle, and I’m probably going to be wet and spitting mad after, but for me and Sotas…” Metsa smiled, clapping the boy on the leg, silently cursing both her lack of height and his saddle. Hard to look down on someone when they were that high up. “It’ll be easy. Just make sure not to get yourself killed, and try not to shoot me with that thing too many times.”
“I am hardly so unskilled that I would shoot my ally,” Adam, the marshal with the stick up his backside, said.
“Sure. And I’ve got the patience of a saint,” Metsa said, patting his leg again before charging forward. “Better start firing. We do not want it to clear those falls.”
So saying, Metsa continued forward, unleashing bolts from her own gun, each of which adhered to the monster squid’s surface. They would slowly draw out the warp, binding to each other, creating a sort of restrictive warp netting. Far too expensive, but it was what they had. If they had time to recover and process the warp-demon, it might’ve been worth it, but honestly the last month had been loss after loss for her and Sotas.
What was a little more?
Metsa got grabbed by one of the tentacles and she chucked the gun back on shore, nearly hitting Adam. To her dismay, he was as good a shot as he thought he was. Where was the fun in him not even pretending to shoot her on accident?
That thought was quickly pushed out of her head, along with most of her air, when the squid rotated, dunking her in the waterfall it was attempting to climb.
Drawing her dagger, Metsa’s grin stretched far wider than usual, practically reaching from ear to ear. Oh yes. The last month had been expensive. But damn her to the Empress’ infinite cells if it hadn’t been fun.