Chương 158: Chapter 154

Play did not go gently into the night. In fact, she was far less poetic about her removal. To Wade's credit, he didn't start the war with max level tactics. It had begun with conventional, polite, means. Heckling, bribing, and eventually containment breaches past the NEET parameter of filth, but the goddess vanished into mist as expected and floated around left and right, trying to keep playing her game all the while evading catch attempts.

After much cursing, a soap bar used like a crucifix to herd her toward corners, and several broken brooms, Zin and Wade decided they weren't getting anything done and needed to bring in the proper tools: A five-foot aluminum shaft ending in a loop designed for relocating 'aggressive' wildlife without losing fingers. Wade didn't ask where Zin had gotten it, or why it was in the house to begin with along with all the other cleaning supplies. He had his suspicions of course.

"You wouldn't dare!" Play hissed from behind her fortress of crusty ramen cups. Kevin the cockroach held formation at the front of the perimeter, somehow having survived up to now by sheer luck. Wade extended the pole, testing its reach, ignoring the pest.

"Zin, what's our plan?" The Archdemon brought up an air freshener spray bottle in one hand, ready to use like a flamethrower.

"You loop, she screams something about 'dignity', we ignore it, I spray her down if she resists and we both pretend this is a completely normal use of our time and talents. How's that plan sound like to you Mr. Wade?"

"I believe that's a lovely idea, let's get to work."

"This is an online game!" Play's eyes darted between them. Her controller clicked furiously in the meantime.

"I can't just pause or quit, give me five more minutes! Just five!" Zin rolled his eyes, "Darling, boss, light of my eternal torment, you're not fooling anyone here."

"I'm serious! It's just five more minutes… and maybe another ten after for the next mat-" Wade stepped forward. His foot crunched through a bag of stale Doritos which alerted the NEET of his approach. Kevin somehow managed to not be within the footstomp. The pole lifted up and she ducked and dodged in ways Wade was certain were physically impossible. Five minutes of wrangling, and Wade was feeling exhausted.

"All right. That's it." Wade hissed.

"Zin, execute order 66." The Archdemon's hand shot out and yanked off a limited edition figurine from the nearest shelf of some anime character Wade didn't recognize, and then held it over the trash heap, like a man dangling a hostage over a cliff.

"Oh no, Mr. Wade, it seems I've accidentally picked up this extremely rare limited edition Emillia figure within dropping distance of what appears to be this morning's greasy pizza box." Play's head snapped toward the figurine so fast her neck should have broken.

"You wouldn't dare. You're bluf-" Wade lunged. The loop sailed over her head and cinched around her midsection. Play shrieked, finally let go of the controller, and grabbed the couch with both hands. Her fingers somehow held on with supernatural grip strength.

"UNHAND ME, MORTAL! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! I AM A DIVINITY OF THE HIGHEST-" Wade pulled backwards, putting his back and arms into it. The couch slid three inches across the floor. Play weighed almost nothing, but whatever force she channeled into her grip had her stuck like a tick. Wade was frankly more surprised he even had the strength to pull an entire couch in one yank, but then remembered he had an actual strength stat now. Still. They had a ghost to bust out of here.

"Zin, she's dug in, execute the figurine and go for another." The Archdemon looked at the figure in his hands, and then down at the trash can, and back. As if weighing the world in his hands.

"Zin?"

"Gah, she's right it's a bluff." Zin carefully put the figure back on the shelf, "Mr. Wade, do you know how hard it was to get this thing in the first place? Or how much it cost me to buy it?" Wade stared at him with the glare of pure betrayal.

"Relax kiddo, we have plan B." The Archdemon carefully stepped past the filth parameter and aimed the fabreeze point blank at the divinity. Play stared at the looming spray bottle of NEET repellant rapidly approaching her face. Caught between holding onto the couch for dear life, or protecting herself from being cleaned.

"YOU BETRA-" Psshht. Wade heaved upward at the same time. She went up a few inches, but managed to blindly rehook her hands onto the tip of the couch, now dangling near upside down. The pole started bending slightly. The couch was almost going to lift up off the ground. It was like reeling a fish at this point. Kevin the loyal cockroach launched himself at Wade's ankle in a kamikaze charge. Wade decided to be merciful, and simply swept his foot to clear the cockroach off.

"THIS IS A VIOLATION OF THE GENEVA CONVENTION!"

"You're not a prisoner of war." Wade shot back, grunting against the effort.

"You're not even from EARTH."

"I'M A PRISONER OF SOMETHING! KEVIN!" The cockroach opened its wings, and flew right into Wade's face. He'd known cockroaches could fly. Everyone, deep down inside, knew they could. But knowing and seeing it happen were two different things. Despite Kevin's valiant attempts however, he was still a mere cockroach and Wade had dealt with individual teeth right in his face that were twenty times the size of that cockroach.

So besides mild surprise, Wade held onto the hooked NEET as Kevin slammed into Wade's cheek and bounced off. Play seemed shocked her loyal minion had failed. And then stared in horror at her other supposedly loyal minion. Zin had that unnaturally huge grin, teeth looking particularly sharp.

"Believe me boss, this is gonna hurt you a looot more than it hurts me." Psshht. Wade yanked her airborne at the same moment in one final shove of the pole. She dangled from the catch pole, spinning slowly, eyes filled with the hate of a thousand suns.

"I'll curse you! I'll curse your whole BLOODLINE! YOU THINK THE HIGH ELVES HAVE IT BAD?! I WILL SHOW YOU THE MEANING OF DIVINE CONSEQUENCES!" Wade knew she could simply vanish at will. But all games had rules, and somehow he knew the unworded rules said he'd won. Wade carried her toward the stairs, pole over his shoulder, goddess swinging behind him like a caught snarling racoon with the same temperment.

The doorway was another bit of a difficulty, in which she managed to use her tiny racoon hands to latch on and hold for dear life, but each time Zin was there to spray her into compliance.

"For the record," Zin said, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves as they slowly brought her out of the cave.

"I'm not usually sentimental, but this is by far the greatest moment of my entire employment. Look, even got a little tear running down my cheek." The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. For Leon, this was the first time he'd seen Play in person. And his introduction was watching Wade walk out of a normal suburban house with an animal pole holding slowly spinning, hissing tiny feral child who was clearly prepared to bite the first thing in range.

Wade had described her of similar temperament. But he'd thought the American had been joking or embellishing the whole thing.

"Uhh, Wade, my friend, you knowing how this looks to anyone outside here, da?"

"We'll be fine," The Archdemon said.

"Drop her on the grass." Medy and Eri were hanging out on the same grass, sitting down and currently sunbathing in relative peace. But both were now staring at the prized fish brought out of the depths of hell. Wade handled the pole until the angry goddess hovered over the lawn, and then loosened the catch. She landed right on top, shuddering at the feel of grass and sunlight before sitting back up with a sulk, arms crossed over her chest.

"Wow. Would you look at that." Zin said, standing next to Wade.

"She didn't combust into fire outside. I admit I was half hoping that might happen." The rest of the day passed in a blur of smaller events. Zin made the attempt to search for Market, but none of his contacts reported any results. The Archdemon was mostly certain the god was probably in Las Vegas. Maybe terrorizing the casino's there. The main base of operations ended up being the warehouse Wade first got his hands on guns, along with the usual suspects there.

If they were surprised to see Wade again, they sure didn't act like it. Osmalla dropped a black duffle bag onto the folding table with a thud that rattled the metal legs.

"Alright, here's your care package. Seven Glocks, twenty two magazines, and two hundred rounds loose in boxes. Also got a good dozen crossbow bolts for that thing, although can't see a single reason to use a toy over these, but that's a more personal discussion between you and whatever you're aiming at." Wade unzipped the bag. The magazines sat in neat rows, snug in foam cutouts. It did look like it was all thrown together last second, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

All this would be added to the crate he was bringing into the round with him. And the same crate he would be bringing out of the round later, preferably filled with as much mana crystals as he could stuff in there.

"Grenades are in here." Chawky nudged a green metal box with his boot.

"Four of those are modified versions with your requirements. The modified ones have orange tape wrapped around the spoon. You see orange, you know what you're dealing with."

"Oh, uh, probably won't need these this round." Wade said. He didn't have the dodge roll this time around.

"…Are you fucking serious? Do you know how much time and effort I put into all of this stuff?" Chawky turned a betrayed eye to Zin.

"It took him all of ten minutes, and the orange tape was the hard part. He wanted to do cute little bow ties instead." Macrom said, as he slid a cardboard box across the ground.

"MREs. Twenty-four of them, handpicked the best ones for myself and left you the rest." He opened the cardboard, and pulled out a flat tan plastic packaging.

"You see the writing in here on the package?"

"Yeah." Wade said.

"Great. Are you literate?"

"Last I checked?"

"Good job, doing better than half the army already. Read the fucking manual and follow all of it exactly as outlined." He lifted the bag and pointed to the different instructions and lines.

"Water exactly to the line shown, too much, bad, too little, also bad. The heater pouch goes in the sleeve, not against your skin, or on your lap, you will burn your jewels off. Make sure you leave it propped up against something, not flat on the ground." Osmalla pulled a laminated card from his vest pocket and handed it over.

"Field guide for the Glock. Assuming you have the time to fix one out there. It's faster to just chuck it and pull fresh one instead if you're in deep, don't feel shy. Now, we heard your request for the fastest possible firing weapon you can use, the answer's a Kriss Vector. Problem is sourcing one, we're still working on it."

"How long?"

"Could be tomorrow, could be next week. Depends on which illegal arms dealer picks up the phone first and how generous they're feeling. I don't do the bean counting, he does." A finger was pointed to Chawky. Who immediately pointed to Macrom, who immediately pointed right back to Osmalla.

"Gentlemen." Macrom said, staring at the fingers.

"It seems we're at a stalemate."

"Har har, wrap it up boys," Zin said, "Let's get back to equipping Mr. Wade here with his gear and we'll all figure out how to fund it later." Osmalla pulled an actual shotgun from behind the crate and laid it flat.

"We got you birdshot and buckshot." Wade picked up the shotgun. The pump action felt way heavier than he expected, but he handed it back over to the gunmaster. Osmalla gave a demonstration of how it was loaded and used, and then unloaded it back before handing it over.

"Now, do keep in mind shotguns are way more accurate than your video games. Pellets spreading out isn't great in general, unless you're hunting birds. And you'll still want the pellets to stay somewhat focused. Do what your Russian friend is doing outside." Across the warehouse, just beyond the open range, Leon had already taken to the shotgun like he'd been born with one.

The abandoned rail station and surrounding industrial area gave Wade the sense that gunfire and other strange noises were ignored by locals the same way countryside folks ignored creepy sounds coming from the forest at night. Or Zin had picked a spot the cops were paid not to drive through. Either way, nobody was coming their direction to ask about the noises. Next to Leon, wearing a proud pope hat, was Eri. Equally having the time of his life. The skeleton shouldered the shotgun and fired without flinching.

Whatever kind of undeath existence, the skeleton had little issue with the sound that close, and equally had enough strength to handle the kick without difficulty. He racked and fired again, racked and fired, and if he wasn't wearing the Rorschach mask, Wade was pretty sure the skeleton would have his jaws wide open, looking like a kid on a rollercoaster. Wade left the range after his fourth attempt with the shotgun produced results that were, charitably, bad. He'd need a lot of practice to make that one work.

Or more points into strength. Which would be points away from Luck, and that was unacceptable. He would stick with glocks for now unless the situation required differently. The rest of the afternoon dissolved into logistics. Zin's credit card took hit after hit since the crew here knew Wade was traveling to a functional base. So he could stockpile it with as much as he could carry in one round, to save some trouble in the future.

Climbing rope, carabiners, waterproof bags, batteries, duct tape, zip ties, a second pair of water boots, a whole lot of rope, thermal blankets since it was going to be freezing temperature over there, and the MRE's. Every receipt went into a manila folder that Zin kept tucked under his arm like a weapon. Near the back wall, Bael sat cross-legged on an abandoned shipping pallet with a smartphone that looked comically small in his massive hands.

His eyes remained locked on a YouTube video of a Japanese bladesmith currently explaining the forging process they used. He hadn't moved from that spot for the past two hours now, clicking video after video on the recommended feed. The tail swished behind him, and Market's blessing whispered it was a good sign. Medy, meanwhile, had discovered the explosive mechanics of firearms approximately two hours ago and had not shut up about it since.

"So the powder explodes inside that tiny little casing, and that's what pushes the metal bit forward? Every single time? And it's just, like, a contained explosion happening in your hands? And it always works, every time you press the trigger? With the same intensity?"

"Yes." Osmalla said for the fourth time.

"And nobody thinks that's insane?"

"We've all made peace with it."

"Can I try?"

"No."

"Can I try convincing you?" Osmalla was real careful with his answer.

"… So long as it's by using rational arguments."

"I can do that!" Medy took a breath and straightened up." Please-please-please-please-please-please-please-please-please-" It did not work. She tried Zin. Zin said no. She asked Leon. Leon said ask Wade. She asked Wade. Wade said ask Zin. She went back to Zin. Zin said absolutely the fuck not, in far more polite but firm terms. Spurned, she went to Chawky and this time decided to be a big girl demoness and get things done the traditional way: Medy batted her eyelashes.

Chawky instantly folded and handed her a Glock, thinking an unloaded and unarmed one was safe enough.

Chawky hadn't realized she'd been listening to everyone's discussion and had been quietly learning how these were loaded and used. And nobody was fast enough to catch up to Medy as she darted out of the warehouse, with a magazine snatched out of a crate in her tail. Her first shot went into the ceiling where it hit a flicker of blue. She'd fired with her eyes closed and was mostly excited about the sound the gun made.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEE, I LOVE this world!" Her second and third shot missed the target dummy on the range because once more flickers of blue sprang up and intercepted the shots almost right before the barrel of the Glock. Everyone else was too busy diving down on the ground. Said weapon was removed from her hand before her fourth shot by her fellow Archdemon, as he'd chased after her like a teacher behind a kid bolting for the door, all the while frantically covering the shots with defensive spells.

Zin returned back into the warehouse giving Chawky a withering glare, while he held Medy by the scruff of her shirt in the other hand, a few inches off the ground. Free magic could do just about anything with enough practice and focus, it was just incredibly inefficient. And distance only multiplied that cost. Zin had burned through a tidy sum of his personal reserves in order to prevent any potential shooting of his hired help. And Wade and Leon. Play could take a bullet. Eri would just giggle.

Medy protested she'd made sure she wasn't shooting in the general direction of any of those people. Zin just shook her a few times until she coughed up apologies and promised it wouldn't happen again today. Which, as a demon, was good enough to be binding. He shook her one more time just to be certain anyhow. On the far side of the warehouse, separated from the chaos by a wall of shipping containers, Play occupied a battered leather three-seater with unidentifiable origins or use.

She sat buried in cushions, knees pulled to her chest, controller in hand, muttering curse after curse, a small television perched on a folding chair in front of her. As far as Wade knew, she'd somehow setup working internet on her own, and bullied Zin into hauling a TV and game console with him. He didn't know what she was up to, but so long as she was placated, that's all that mattered. She'd leave behind her phone, where Medy and Bael would remain here and use it to talk and give advice to Wade.

Zin and the bomb experts would also remain behind in this command and control center, in case there was technical difficulty using the phone. And so it was in this environment, where Wade jumped once more at night to Azdrial exactly as a proud American should: Surrounded by guns and more bullets than he knew what to do with, on his way to liberate the other world of its natural resources.