The Lesser One Arc 2: Chapter 11: Return

Return

We leave the dungeon as a group. Three people were casualties in this adventure, and the support staff outside the dungeon work to handle their remains.

I step away from the crowd for a moment and sit down on a curb. A nice breeze flows past my face.

The dungeon crawl was a reminder that I’m still being watched. I need to uphold my side of the bargain if I’m ever going to be secure again.

The portal collapses. Most of the adventurers return to their busses. Carl stops before entering the Blue Dryads’ bus. “Are you coming, Mr. Red?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I want to take a walk. I’ll find my own way home.”

“If you say so,” says Carl. “Good work today. You did well.” He steps into the bus and the doors close behind him.

I stay sitting on the curb as the busses leave. For a while, there is nothing. Then a limousine pulls up beside the warehouse. It’s Sebastian, and in the vehicle is Esla.

I haven’t seen her in a while, and I am very confused as to why she is here. She steps out of the car beside Sebastian.

“You’re really here, Markus,” she says, looking a bit incredulous. “Your, ah, butler here picked me up at the airport.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Dr. Barrimore sent me to check in with you,” she says. “I know you had the incident with the S-class portal and all that, but I also know you’re probably going to need some help with your dealings with the mafia.” She pauses. “At least I assume it was mafia, right? Dr. Barrimore didn’t really fill me in on most of the small details.”

“I can’t tell you,” I say. “It’s a memetic hazard.”

Esla holds up a small bottle. “Dr. Barrimore told me you would say that,” she says. She pops the cork and drinks the thing in one chug, tossing the bottle aside when she is done. “Now you can tell me. Quick, the potion lasts for about five minutes.”

“There’s this organization called the Silverbones,” I say.

Esla cringes. “Yikes. That really is a mind hazard if I’ve ever seen one,” she says. She rubs her temples. “But I think the potion worked.”

“What did Doctor Barrimore tell you?” I say.

“First, you answer my question. What do you have to do with that secret organization?”

“I joined the Brights,” I say. “They’re the half of the Silverbones who do good. But, at the same time, the Darks are blackmailing me. I have to provide someone with …” I pause. “A difficult substance in order to keep my family alive.”

“Okay,” says Esla. “I think I get it. The bad guys are threatening your family, and you’re willing to do almost anything to protect them except join their ranks.”

“Um, that’s about it,” I say.

“Doctor Barrimore said you would need some company,” says Esla. “And I was the person to call for that. I’ll be on your side throughout whatever comes.”

“What if—”

“I can protect myself, Markus,” says Esla. “That’s the whole reason Dr. Barrimore selected me.”

I shake my head. “You don’t understand the power of the Darks,” I say. “Even Dr. Barrimore has never seen anything like them.”

“I trust him,” says Esla.

I think for a moment. “Okay,” I say. “I can make this work. I think you can help me.”

“Anything to help my friend,” says Esla.

“Do you know how to create a gravity vacuum?” I ask.

Esla takes out a flip phone. “I paid for service here. Let’s see.” She dials a few numbers and puts the phone to her ear. “Yes. Dr. Barrimore? Yes. He wants to know how to build a gravity vacuum. Okay.” She turns and hands me the phone. “Dr. Barrimore wants to talk to you.”

I take the phone. “Hello?”

“Markus, my boy,” says Dr. Barrimore. “I hope you enjoy the help I sent you. First off. Why do you need to build a gravity vacuum?”

“To produce, um,” I say. “I can’t tell you. It’s something dangerous but that’s as much as I can say.”

Dr. Barrimore is silent for a moment. “Okay. I’ll trust you on this one. I only prepared for one memetic hazard. Here, let me pull up some references.” I hear paper shuffling. “Ah, yes. Gravity vacuums. A relatively new field of portal-enabled science. Very complicated. Hm. You’re probably going to have to hire someone who knows a lot more about this than I do. Do you want to use my connections?”

“I think I know someone who can help me,” I say. “I just asked to see my options.”

“Well then, boyo,” says Dr. Barrimore. “Call me back whenever you need help.” He hangs up.

I hand the phone back to Esla. “He was as curt as ever,” I say.

Esla takes the phone. “I signed up for an adventure, didn’t I?” she says.

I chuckle, though it’s a dark one. “You are an adventurer, after all.”

Esla puts her hands on her hips. “I heard you became an S-class,” she says.

“What, has news already reached America?” I say.

“Of course I know what’s happening to my friend,” she says. “I’ve been perusing London News ever since I heard about that S-class portal in Wales. You show up, well, not often, but enough times that I got the gist of things.” She frowns. “I also heard about the terrorist attacks. That’s what convinced me to accept Dr. Barrimore’s request.”

“Ah,” I say. “Have my parents heard?”

“You haven’t called them?” she says.

“No,” I say. “I didn’t want to worry them. I think that if they assume my internship with Esmex is going well enough to be boring, that would be for the best.”

“Call them. Tell them at least something about what’s happening.”

I sigh. “Okay. Later, though. For now I have harder things to think about.” I turn to Sebastian. “Do you know where Rezolan is?”

“He is currently convening with the brightest minds among your servants and the British scientific community,” says Sebastian. “He will return with information before the week is out.”

“So I just have to survive until then,” I say. “No antimatter until I know what I’m doing.”

“Wait, antimatter?” says Esla.

“Oops,” I say. I look to Sebastian for help. He shakes his head.

Esla puts her hands on her hips. “You seriously promised to make antimatter for a criminal organization.”

“I was, ah, assured that it would only be used for a purpose that posed no direct harm to anyone.”

“And you trusted that?”

“I was told by a very trustworthy person,” I say.

“No one is trustworthy enough to risk millions of lives on the off chance they do use it for a bomb,” says Esla.

I sigh. “I have no choice. They’ll kill my parents, my friends, even you.” I put up my hands. “What do I do about that?”

“I, for one, wouldn’t mind dying for a cause,” says Esla. She points her finger. “And I do not value my life enough to endanger millions of people.”

I am at my wits end here. “So what?” I say. “I let them kill my family? I join them?”

Esla, even through her anger, appears stumped. She raises her hands in an exasperated manner. “I don’t know either.”

“This is  tough situation,” says Sebastian. “Perhaps we can settle our stomachs with a meal.”

“Where?” I say. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for fancy dining.”

“The Bright Silverbones have invited us to a tea party,” says Sebastian.

Esla brightens. “Ooh, a tea party. That’s super British. Who’s going to be there?”

“Just the Brights Markus has already met, plus two more he hasn’t.”

Esla appears to be in a bit of a better mood. “Then let’s go.”

We get into the limo. Esla leans on the plush couch. “This is a fancy ride you have here,” she says. “I never knew you came from a rich family.”

“Actually, I don’t,” I say. “I earned this money through, ah, investments and high frequency trading.”

“Yikes,” says Esla. “Not for me.” She opens up the mini fridge. “Ooh, look at all this alcohol. Are you planning on wineing the prime minster? Some of this stuff looks expensive.”

“There soda here,” I say, opening the secret fridge. “I don’t drink the spirits.” I toss her a diet root beer.

“Aw, spoilsport,” says Esla. She takes the can and snaps it open. “Well, this is better than going thirsty.”

“If you don’t like that,” I say, “I have Blendina.”

Esla raises an eyebrow. “What’s that? Some sort of British smoothie?”

“It’s super expensive juice. It’s pretty good.”

Esla shrugs. “Nah, I don’t drink expensive stuff as a rule.”

Sebastian drives us through the countryside to the Bright’s country manor. We stop in the manor’s expansive driveway and Sebastian helps us out.

Esla and I stand in the middle of a perfect garden cornered by colorful rose bushes and accented with statues. Mandrake, Ari, Robin, and someone I haven’t met are playing croquet. Mandrake looks up from his mallet and waves.

“Glad you can make it,” he says. “It’s a happy occasion to meet while not under duress.”

I try my best to smile. “I suppose so,” I say.

“You haven’t met Az yet, have you?” says Mandrake. He motions towards the man I haven’t seen before. “His spirit is lanthanum.”

“That’s rare,” says Esla. She chuckles. “I made a pun.”

I sigh, and so does everyone else.

Mandrake takes a shot with his mallet. “Well, enjoy yourselves. Our game will be over soon. There’s food you Americans will like in the house. What you guys call chips.”

“Ah, cool,” says Esla. She enters the house, leaving Sebastian and I standing in the garden.

I turn to Mandrake. “You said that Biren wants antimatter to leave the planet, right?” I say.

Mandrake frowns. “I’m certain. Biren doesn’t have a motive to kill mass numbers of people. He’s more the individualized attention, if you get my drift, kind of person. Now, Ronald, on the other hand …” Mandrake makes a disgusted face. “And don’t get me talking about Generica.”

“How likely is it that someone like Ronald will receive antimatter from Biren, or even steal it from him?”

Mandrake shakes his head. “I’m telling you, I know Biren better than any person has a right to. He won’t allow anything catastrophic to happen.”

“It’s funny,” I say, “How you trust your enemy who is also a murderous psychopath.”

Mandrake shrugs. “Would you rather join them or lose your friends and family?”

I purse my lips. “No. I’m going through with this anyways, I’ve decided. I just want assurance that I won’t be responsible for the deaths of millions just to save a couple of people, no matter how important they are to me.”

Mandrake makes a shot with his mallet. “If you want reassurance, ask Biren himself. I’m sure he’ll give you the time of day.”

“I’ll do that,” I say. “Um, how do I contact him?”

Mandrake takes an old-fashioned contact book out of his pocket. “Let’s see,” he says, his mallet rested on his hips. “Ah, here. His phone number.” He writes something down on the back of a receipt and hands it to me.

It’s a normal phone number.

“That’s it?” I say. “Just like that? No secret codes, no spy stuff?”

“Biren is a lot more with the times than you would expect from a powerful serial killer,” says Mandrake. “Just, contact him at your own risk.”

“I’ll do that after I get something to eat,” I say. “I’m starving.”

I enter the building to get some food and try to forget about my problems for a minute.