Chương 63: My Manager

Six crawlers stood between my party of crashers and the dungeon exit. The man in the lead didn't wear a helmet, carried a sword, and wore a thin gambeson. His devious smile didn't move the swooping, curling mustache above his lip. Whatever he used to shape it made it rock hard, like a piece of plastic glued to his face. To the man's left was a large man in full plate with a kite shield. A woman in a mix of chain and leather wielded a spear and stood to his right.

I assumed that made the three in the back casters of some kind. I couldn't get a good look at them, but I knew we were in trouble because I recognized their leader. I don't know that he would have recognized my face if he saw it, but he couldn't because of my helmet. George Baker was a spellsword from the Furious Few. McDouglas and I interviewed him as a potential suspect for the death of the church crashers.

He had told us that he only intermittently recorded runs, but every member of the party had a camera mounted somewhere on them now. Baker's was strapped to his chest. I eyed his sword. That blade was enchanted with Scorching. Whatever it hit, like a breastplate, immediately became red hot. Dying that way would be misery, and in that moment, Baker didn't strike me as someone who believed in quick deaths.

"This is lucky," Baker said, turning slightly to address his party.

"You've all been training hard. You've got the skills to be one of the Furious Few. Now's your chance to prove you have the commitment. Bottom feeders are a threat to our families. Kill them."

"Wait!" I yelled.

"I'm CDM! This is an official op." Baker laughed. To his party, he said, "Best not to let the scum talk too much. Get this done." I fired four arrows as quickly as I could, one for Baker and one for each of the casters in the back. They bounced off a Barrier that spanned the tunnel before they could find their marks. Baker had a hand up, grinning. What level spellsword was he again? 17? Eh, that didn't matter. He had to be over level 10 to multiclass, which put him out of my league by default.

"We'll pay whatever you want," Abel said.

"Name it." I heard incantations from the back row. The frontliners standing with Baker raised their weapons.

"Fuck you, shitbags," Bip spat.

"Nothing but stuck-up cowards." Baker's grin grew.

"Weapons down!" a voice yelled from farther down the hall behind the crawlers. McDouglas, still wearing his salmon polo but carrying a sword and shield, ran toward us with two investigators following behind. Neither had weapons, so I guessed they were casters. Since when did CDM investigators have caster classes, though? They could also be stupid. Or monks. I couldn't decide which option was the most likely.

"Crawler George Baker," McDouglas continued, stopping several paces from the backrow of our attackers.

"You and your party are under arrest. Weapons down and hands up." Baker glanced between McDouglas' party and mine. The math playing out in his mind was obvious, but I didn't know what answer he would come to. Would he try fighting his way out, or would he surrender?

"The livefeed of your threats to these crashers is already saved. If you make attacking us a part of it, you might win the fight, but you'll be dead to rights on murdering crashers and government officials alike."

"Admirable bluff, but that bluff was a silly choice when nobody has cameras."

"Gray," McDouglas said loudly, "helmet off." I did as I was told.

"Recognize him? He was with me when we interviewed you." Baker's grin weakened. A sharp angle of concern pressed downward on his eyebrows.

"Hidden camera in the helmet," McDouglas explained.

"It's over, Baker. You and your party need to decide whether you make it worse." The frontliners dropped their weapons and shields. The backrow of casters raised their hands above their heads. Baker growled low and tossed his sword.

"Nobody say a fucking word until your attorney shows up. Not a peep about anything, you hear?!" Ambulances were already en route to the gate location and arrived not long after we exited the gate. The CDM called them as soon as they saw crashers coming in behind us. Reinforcements were called as well, but they took the longest to arrive. Apparently, Baker's team had just cleared a gate a few miles away and snatched this one up for the easy XP.

Baker and his party were cuffed at the wrists and ankles with manacles infused with mana crystals. They were enchanted to react to mana use. Any attempt to cast would be met with a countermeasure. When Baker saw that McDouglas had, in fact, bluffed him, he spit on the investigator escorting him. I crawled out of the back of an ambulance after getting looked over, passing Bip.

"So you're a rat after all?" he groaned as a paramedic bandaged his arm. I nodded.

"What a piece of shit." Abel, Cheddar, and Mr_Biceps scowled at me as well. I expected gratitude, seeing as my presence saved their lives, but I realized that was naive. They survived, yes, but they were still under arrest. I didn't know how the CDM handled witnesses to an undercover operation. Maybe they would get some degree of mercy, but none of that was my call. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. I waited on the hood of a CDM SVU.

An investigator I didn't know told me to, so I stayed out of the way and watched as more cars arrived to transport the wounded and the prisoners. Enforcer Chapman and Investigator Dempson were among them, buttoning up evidence collection and witness statements. The video that Baker's team recorded would go a long way to supporting what I captured. I thought I should hide, perhaps, seeing as I was an unnamed criminal informant, but McDouglas gave me a reassuring wave.

Maybe that was less of an issue since Baker wasn't connected to Jonathan? He never explained, and I was too mentally fried to ask. When the last transport pulled away, McDouglas said, "Don't worry about Nico's car. Ride with me back to the office."

"Yes, sir."

"What would you have done if he didn't buy the livestream story?" I asked as we entered the city.

"Something else. Good work back there. I bet the video will be an entertaining watch."

"I didn't know werewolves were possible for a D-ranked gate." McDouglas nodded.

"It's a rarer variant, but not one that's unknown. Not like encountering hobgoblins. Why do you look upset? This is a win."

"My cover is burnt, and we didn't bust Kielar."

"That's how ops shake out sometimes. When you're throwing bait in the water, you don't get to decide what bites."

"What happens next?" I asked.

"We go where the evidence leads us. Arresting Baker will give us warrants for Furious Few records, and maybe one of the younger crawlers will flip to make things easier for us. Funny that a Furious Few manager was the one to put us onto this case in the first place. Didn't see the snakes in her own yard."

"And Kielar gets away with it." McDouglas nodded.

"For now, yeah. I'm disappointed too."

"It sucks, but I get it."

"Good. You have to be able to stomach things like this to do this job. You'll get some big wins, but don't count on happy endings." I expected Beth to be upset by the news, especially since I could only talk about it with vagaries. Instead, she nodded quietly and said she had a shift at Milly's to get to. When I got back into the CDM office that Monday, Megan only asked if everything went okay with work over the weekend. She seemed disappointed about not getting to hunt but never said anything about it.

Like Beth, she understood the nature of the situation. I was jealous of them for that. The logical side of my brain agreed, but I was raised on fire and brimstone. I was taught that evil deeds always led to indescribable suffering, and lying was unequivocally a sin. The bad were punished. The good were rewarded. I left those ideas behind because I learned the real world didn't work that way, but the conditioning was still there. On Tuesday, Enforcer Grensmith called me into his office.

He had a dour demeanor about him and motioned for me to close the door before I sat.

"Intern Enforcer Carmino, you've been busy."

"Yes, sir."

"In light of your actions, we are not continuing your internship." The rush of blood leaving my face made me dizzy. I was only two weeks away from being finished. Two weeks! I put all of that effort into this internship only to lose it when I was so close to the finish line.

"We're moving you into an enforcer position early."

"Huh?" Grensmith nodded.

"Don't let it get to your head because Wilson and Black are getting the same promotion. They don't know yet, so please keep that to yourself." They started their internships after me. Had they been doing a bunch of undercover work too? They must have done something remarkable to cut the line by several months.

"An agency shakeup is coming down from the top, and we'll need more enforcers quick, so you three lucked out."

"Oh."

"This is where you say-""Thank you, sir. I'll do my best."

"Good," Grensmith said.

"Please send Wilson in next." I may not have been promoted because I was a star student–as I had briefly hoped–but the pay bump for becoming an enforcer would be an enormous help. This was awesome. Wait. Why was I celebrating this? The undercover opportunity was only possible because Jonathan got CKed. He fucking died, and his body was lost to a different dimension. His parents would never get proper closure, nor would Beth. Yeah, good for me getting a pay raise.

I couldn't believe I forgot those facts so quickly when my life improved by even a small amount. Later that day, Megan tapped me on the shoulder.

"We're all going out to celebrate the promotions. Join us?"

"No, thanks. I have errands to run." Megan again gave me that quizzical look where she knew I was lying but didn't press the issue.

"I'm good for this weekend, though," I added, in an attempt to soften my refusal a bit.

"I'm sorry I missed last Saturday."

"It's fine. The day off was pretty nice, actually. It felt great to sleep in for once."

"Well, I'm still sorry I bailed."

"Permadeath." I frowned. I very much wanted to continue playing the deeply regretful friend.

"That's a me and Nathan thing," I said.

"I don't know that you have the rights to call permadeath."

"He said you would say that, so he knighted me."

"That's not a thing we do."

"Take it up with him. In the meantime, permadeath."

"Okay, okay," I relented.

"Have a good time tonight." While the interns went out to celebrate, I went to a different bar. I sat for a couple of hours, watching soccer bloopers on mute, and went home. I went again the next day, and then the day after that. Finally, I spotted the mark I had been waiting for. Brennan Kielar. He came in with his arm around a girl. Their attraction to each other was plain to see. They giggled and leaned close. She blushed when he said something I couldn't hear. Then he blushed when she replied with a coy smirk.

I downed my drink and approached their seats at the bar.

"Brennan! Good to see you again!" I said. He looked at me, startled and confused.

"It's Dorian, from the CDM. Remember me?"

"Yeah. Sure. Uhh-" I slapped a photo on the bar. Brennan looked down. His mouth gaped, and his skin went white. Jonathan's smiling face stared back up at him. This was a photo of him coaching a youth baseball team. Brennan's gaze shifted to me. He was afraid. Tapping the photo with my pointer finger, I hoped that he could feel every drop of hate I had for him. That reaction confirmed it for me. No one would go ashen seeing a photo of someone they never met, but someone they CKed? That would do it.

Being here to confront Brennan was stupid. Taunting him with a photo of Jonathan was also stupid. I had just gotten a bump up with the CDM, and I was already off-book seeking justice in my own way. Yes, it was dumb to put my career at risk, but however stupid it may have been, it felt right. I had to do it.

"Do you still have my card?" I asked. He nodded weakly.

"Good," I said and left the bar.