Chapter Text
we've been fighting our demons just to stay afloat
been building a castle just to watch it fall
Thomas Andre knows what love is. He has felt it before.
He knows that falling in love is ubiquitous, but being in love is like... like feeling the sun on his face in the morning. Like breathing in morning dew.
Love is a bowl of hot café au lait waiting on the table in the morning. Love is the newspaper with the missing sports section because Julienne left it on her side of the table when she'd taken it out to read first. Love is his favorite breakfast, already warmed up and sitting next to it all.
Love is him having the sports section the next time, setting down her breakfast and coffee on the table. Waiting for her to wake and greet the day.
Divorce is waking up to a cold, empty house, and an equally cold and empty kitchen. Making his own breakfast and having no one to read his newspaper with. The quiet flickering of the television that stays on the channel he wants to watch and no one to playfully fight for it with.
Eventually, divorce is a large coffee and two egg sandwiches for the all-time low price of $14.99, and an underpaid smile as it's handed to him over the counter of his local coffee chain.
He wouldn't say he's done with love, though. A fairy tale happy ending wasn't quite what he had in mind for his life, but it's what he thought he had. Until he didn't have it anymore.
Thomas isn't looking for a fairy tale anymore. He isn't expecting one, either.
And after Kamish, his idea of a 'happy ending' has gotten a hell of a lot broader.
SIX MONTHS AFTER THE MANA ADVENT
Thomas Andre's face is gloomy. He watches paramedics wheel another stretcher out of the building as the police and hunters begin moving in.
It's evening, but the sun hasn't quite set yet.
For some of these people, it will never set. For them, the sun will hang eternally at the horizon line, at the cusp of night and day, dawn and dusk. For them, the twilight in their dreams will be all that they know until something can be done.
If anything can be done.
"Mr. Andre," Officer Marshall Cohen greets him, walking to where Thomas is positioned off to the side of everything going on. "Looks like we didn't need you here after all. They came along quietly."
"Maybe they're only doing that because I'm here."
Officer Cohen snorts lightly. "You got a point. I'll make sure to tell them to mark you guys down for credit, in any case. Could've been worse."
"Thanks."
The officer's radio goes off, one of the others asking for his presence. He gives Thomas a nod and heads into the building.
It's a small two-story building in the downtown area, sitting on the main road. Traffic has been cordoned off and redirected around the entire block due to the amount of police cars that have pulled in as backup.
He'd almost think it was excessive if he didn't know what the shabby sign over the window saying 'Awakening Services' meant.
Another paramedic wheels out a stretcher with someone strapped to it, breathing mask in place. An officer escorts someone out of the building and into a cop car. Then, Officer Cohen comes out with someone who doesn't seem to be as cooperative. Thomas can sense the mana fluctuations around him and the people in the stretchers.
The Awakened man in Cohen's hold breaks free- Cohen isn't Awakened, and from what Thomas was told, they weren't aware of any Awakeners being in the building. Thomas Andre was just meant to be here as a precaution.
In a few seconds, he has the man in a light choke hold several inches off the ground to stop him from running away. The man kicks and curses, but he stays that way until Cohen waves him over to a new police car that had just come in. This one radiates mana, and there's two strong mana signatures inside it.
The driver side window rolls down. The man inside, wearing an altered version of the police dress uniform, jerks his head towards the back seat.
"Throw him in. Soto will take care of him."
Cohen opens the back door so Thomas can shove the man in his hold into the car. The woman in the back, Soto, grabs the man by the collar. Her hands glow and and a similar light surrounds him.
"..What the hell?" he sputters, looking at his own hands. "What did you do to me?"
"Making you easier to handle," she says. "Now behave and maybe we won't need to break a few bones."
Thomas shuts the door, leaving them to deal with it. They seem stronger than the guy he'd just caught, so it should be fine.
"You didn't get a report about one of them being Awakened, did you?" he asks Officer Cohen.
"We didn't." Cohen's mouth goes tight. "Non-Awakened can't tell them apart. As far as they knew, it was a researcher or scientist heading it all. We've rounded them all up, but the leader looks to be Fletcher, the one that Walker and Soto just drove off with."
"What about the victims?"
"The count's unofficial." Cohen side-eyes him. It's their way of saying 'don't spread this around'. "Of the 20 or 30 people they roped in, there's actually 3 who Awakened. Most of them didn't have any changes and have been doing shady stuff for Fletcher after getting into debt. Five..."
Cohen pauses, then sighs.
"Five were found unconscious in the underground 'research lab'. Paramedics should have them by now."
"What about the ones who Awakened?"
"We're getting in contact with him. The anonymous tip said they were being exploited for labor because they were in debt to Fletcher, but we'll have to talk to them to be sure."
Thomas nods. "Any chance you could turn them my way once they're cleared?"
"You can take that up with Brennan."
"Tsk. Fine." He rolls his shoulders. "You guys got everything handled now?"
"If Fletcher was the only Awakened, we should be fine. You sense anyone else in there?"
Thomas squints at the building. With a bit of focus, he extends the formless energy in his body outwards until it encompasses the building. Aside from a few police members inside, he doesn't sense any other life forms, Awakened or otherwise.
"Looks clear to me. There's still mana in there, probably crystals or whatever they've done with it."
"Got it. We'll take it from here. Thanks."
"No problem. You have my number and Brennan's if anything new comes up."
"...arrests on yet another group offering false advertisement of 'Awakener services', including assisted Awakening and contracting. According to the official report, five individuals were found in a coma in the basement in very rough shape. We've been told that one sadly passed away after arriving at the hospital, but the remaining four are in stable condition. Their names are...
"We remind our viewers to not fall for these schemes. There is no scientific proof of assisted Awakening treatments being effective. To those who are Awakened, please call the toll free number listed below to obtain information on how to help with gates in your area. That number is..."
"..Does it really have no effect?"
Agent David Brennan looks up from his desk. Thomas takes his eyes off of the TV for a moment to look at him.
"Mana crystal exposure. Is it really ineffective for Awakening?"
"It's.. inconclusive," Brennan says. "Also classified."
"So this whole round-up of people offering assisted Awakenings isn't because the government has collected enough data and is getting rid of the evidence?"
"I understand your concerns, but I assure you we had our reasons for not shutting down these facilities sooner."
"Reasons being to collect data so you didn't have to officially do the research yourselves?"
The man sighs, shoulders dropping. "You know I can't answer that, Mr. Andre."
Thomas shrugs with a smile. "No answer is also an answer."
Especially for Chris Reid. Him and his conspiracy theories. Maybe not-so-conspiracy in this case.
"So, when's the CIA leaving California? That was the last Awakening facility, right?"
"Actually, we were hoping to set up a permanent organization here to manage the local Awakeners. With your help, if you're willing."
"Mine?" Thomas frowns. "Don't you guys have your own Awakeners now? I haven't even done military service, here or anywhere."
"You're strong. That's useful. The other Awakeners will listen to you- us, better, if we're working together."
"That's not really incentive to work for the government." Thomas turns off the TV at this point. The news has moved onto something else, something non-Awakener related, which is rare these days, but also inevitable. "I know I'm strong, but surely there's someone out there just as strong. Or stronger."
"...We've been working on a way to gauge an Awakener's strength, yes. But according to a credible source, we.. are fairly certain you are currently one of the strongest Awakeners, Thomas. In the world."
He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until it wheezes out of him in something like incredulity and relief. Thomas wouldn't have considered himself the strongest in the UFC before, no matter how many matches he'd won. He's big, but even in his own weight class he'd faced a few challenging fighters.
After his Awakening, he had the feeling that none of them stood a chance anymore. Even those that had Awakened were nowhere close to the strength he'd suddenly gained.
In fact, he'd gained so much that it took weeks just to learn how to dial it back again and not crush everything he touched.
The strongest? In the world?
"..One of," he repeats. "Who're the others?"
"Notably?" Brennan leafs through a pile of folders and opens up one of them to read from. "Liu Zhigang, recorded in Shanghai recently. He Awakened just over a week ago."
Hm. Chinese.
"What's that based on?"
"You have internet?" Thomas nods, taking out his cellphone. David turns the file around enough to make the name readable. "Look up Liu Zhigang, Suzhou. S-U-Z-H-O-U should work. Seeing is better than believing."
"Shouldn't that be 'seeing is believing'?"
"Haha." Brennan shakes his head, rueful. "I've seen a lot now. Can't say I can believe it all."
Puzzled, Thomas types in the search words and sees the phrase 'dungeon break' in the results before he swaps to videos.
It reminds him of his own Awakening, a little over half a year ago. One of the first handful of portals that appeared suddenly opened up and started spewing monsters everywhere, and he just happened to be in its crossfire. At the same time, he'd found himself filled with a newfound strength and vigor he hadn't felt in years.
Partly because he was already in his 30s at that point. And partly because of his relatively recent divorce.
(honestly, though, he should count himself lucky. others have divorced for far worse reasons than falling out of love. and more importantly, loss of compatibility and willingness to work things through.)
Thomas wouldn't consider himself a violent person. He's dangerous, but not violent. Not normally, not anymore. But that eruption of energy (mana) lit a fire in his body, in his bones, such that he didn't even notice the searing on his skin that added marks to his already existing collection of tattoos. It reared it's ugly head inside him and it burned until he quenched it with the blood of his enemies, his victims. His prey.
In Liu Zhigang's wake is something akin to the aftermath of a grizzly bear attack. Monster corpses torn apart limb from limb and flung about like party favors. Some of them aren't even just torn, they look like they've been struck by a bomb. Blasted to bits and ravaged by wild animals.
A short video clip reveals it's something to do with Liu's mana, a shimmering red light that acts like an explosive. It's not much different from when Thomas uses his defensive ability to crash into the beasts hard enough to make them burst apart. More of the offensive variety, of course.
The man himself seems unremarkable. His hair is impressive, but he looks.. pretty average, otherwise. A somewhat handsome face. Small, stocky build. A fighter's appearance, purely based on his muscle distribution. It's hard to tell if they're a result of hard work or purely from his Awakening.
The monsters look strong, though. And the ease with which Liu rips through them lends credence to David's claim of him being one of the strongest. In the world.
"Interested?"
Thomas blinks and looks up. Brennan had been watching him intently, it seems. His very expressive eyebrows look amused.
"...Not particularly, no."
"No? What do you think of getting him to come to the United States?"
"For what?"
"Never hurts to have more Awakeners. Especially if these gates and monsters are here to stay." Brennan puts Liu Zhigang's file back into the pile. "I've been hearing people throw the term hunter around instead of Awakener. Because of how much they want to fight the monsters."
Hunter. It feels.. it sounds. Right. It sounds like settling into a new skin. It feels like a well-worn command, ready to be obeyed. Hunter.
(he's hunting, this he realizes later. much later. the first time he tracks one inside the gate, and another through the city streets, following its mana signature like a bloodhound. he's a hunter.)
"..Both are useful." Thomas nods. "I met some cops that were Awakened. I doubt they'll be going up against monsters the same way. Can't say I'd call them hunters."
"Hmm." Brennan taps his pen against the table for a moment. "Sounds like semantics to me. Alright. We won't push for your participation in the Awakener or hunter management, then, but we'd like to ask for your help on occasion."
"Sure. As long as it pays and I'm not killing anyone."
"I can't guarantee that." Brennan levels him with a solemn gaze. "From what I heard, Fletcher ultimately caused at least one death by exposing the victim to mana crystals. They're certainly not the first loss of life and they very likely won't be the last. We might have taken down the last Awakening facility that we know of, but there's no telling if another will come up. And we have no guarantee that others will comply peacefully."
Thomas leaves the office with a heavy weight on his shoulders.
Scavenger Guild.
He looks up at the sign newly fixed above the entrance to the refurbished office building with some sense of pride. With this, he's practically a business owner.
And with a business comes.. employees.
"Technically they're all contract employees," Shannon Harper points out. She'd been introduced by a mutual acquaintance in the UFC. They're working an official title for her, but the list currently includes HR, financial advisor, and accountant. "You've got a choice between weekly and monthly salary payments, plus bonuses from gate proceeds. That's the minimum set by the Bureau. There's other options you could come to an agreement on, of course."
"Options?"
"You could pay them the entire contract amount up front if you have the capital, and just give out weekly bonuses for gate profits. And pray to God that their money management ability is enough to make it last to the end of the contract. Pros and cons are mostly about if they die before their contract is up."
"That's morbid."
"They've picked a job with a pretty high mortality rate, all things considered."
"Hey, it's gotten better. We have gear now."
"Speaking of which.." Shannon picks out a stapled packet of papers from her clipboard. "Meant to run this by you earlier. Full list of what gear you've got on your men and in inventory, and what you'll need before we meet the new regulation guidelines set by the Hunter Bureau to go on a raid. We're not too far off."
"Jesus, they work fast." He takes the paperwork to go over later, but a quick skim through it makes his very full wallet sting a bit. "Looks like we'll have to pay a visit downtown again."
"I'll expect a very large bill from the workshop."
Thomas winces a bit. "Yeah."
"Mr. Tyler?" Thomas calls out, knuckles rapping at the inside of the doorjamb. "You got a customer!"
"Who the fuck is Mr. Tyler," comes a growl from the back rooms. A man walks out, brawny and tanned, hair pulled back into a short ponytail. The brown apron he's wearing is smudged with soot and something like grease. "I told you to call me Caleb. I don't associate with the Tylers anymore."
"Says Tyler on your business card."
"Fucking-" Caleb squints at the card swiped from the front desk. "I'll get that changed at some point. You here for more gear?"
"Not for me. My guild's going to need a few things before we can raid. New Bureau requirements." Thomas hands over the list of items. "Got anything we can use while the boys get their custom orders in?"
Caleb flips through it, muttering under his breath. "Best we can do is C-Grade. Most will be D-Grade since those materials are more readily available and affordable to get and craft with. We can take in orders for B-Grade equipment, if you really need it, that stuff shouldn't be too hard to get. A-Grade materials get snapped up too quickly for us small shops to even touch them."
"It wouldn't be hard if you were still a Tyler," says an accented voice from the back rooms.
"I'd never hear the end of it from my old man," Caleb grumbles back.
"That's fine," Thomas says. "D- and B-Grade should be enough for short term. We'll gather what we can from B- and A-Rank gates for upgrades."
"Lookit you, moving up in the world." Caleb grins. "Feels like just yesterday you were charging into gates barehanded. With a rusty sword."
"I kicked a lot of ass with that rusty sword, thanks. How soon do you think you can get this stuff delivered?"
"A few days? A week at most. Mahir!" Caleb turns around and pokes his head into the back room, having the sheet of paper. "Delivery order for you. How soon can we get it to the Scavengers?"
The person who shows up in the doorway isn't one that Thomas has seen before. Granted, it's been a while since he visited Caleb's workshop in person. Most of his orders have been over the phone. It's been busy work transitioning from a freelance raid group to a proper guild.
The man, Mahir, peers at the list over a pair of spectacles, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He's also wearing an apron like Caleb and it's just as smudged with grease and other things.
"For the rich man? All inclusive service. Packing, polishing, repairs. First-class handling and transport. Do we do tracking?"
"That doesn't sound like us."
"No tracking. One month."
"Whoa, that's an optimistic estimate. Two months sounds more realistic."
"Three months if your uncle delivers."
"My uncle isn't delivering shit for me."
Mahir laughs. He makes eye contact with Thomas. "One week, guild master. Do you have a raid coming up?"
"There was one I was looking at for the end of the week. The association says it's got a couple days before it breaks."
"What day is today?" Mahir leans over Caleb's shoulder to look at his cellphone in his hands. "Three days, we can do. I'll see about borrowing a big enough truck from my father."
"Thanks. I'll keep an eye out for good materials for you guys."
"See?" Mahir nudges Caleb in the side. "This is an investor. A real investor."
"Compared to what?"
"Delacroix."
"Shush! Don't speak of the devil." Caleb gives his partner a shove. "Go fetch the rich man his things."
Thomas watches them banter with fond nostalgia. Mahir leaves with swat on the back of Caleb's head using the paper in his hand.
"Classy," he says. "You been hiding him? I don't think I've seen him before."
"He was doing deliveries the first few times you were here. Wasn't until I caught him hanging out in the workshop after he was done that I found out he had a knack for making shit like this. And that he was Awakened. He didn't even tell me!"
He hears Mahir shouting from the distance, "You never wondered why I made deliveries alone?"
"I've seen your muscles, I had confidence in them."
"If it's muscles, then you can do deliveries, instead."
"I'm a mage! You wouldn't send a fragile mage to meet our customers, would you?"
"If you are fragile, then I am but brittle pottery."
Caleb shakes his head and waves Thomas off. "We'll send a bill. You plan to rent or keep?"
"We'll keep it. They'll be good to use for test driving new hires later."
"Maintenance and repairs is additional."
"Oh, take every penny, why don't you."
"You make enough pennies to afford it."
Three days later, he's watching Mahir unload over a dozen pieces of gear out of a box truck, hefting them over his shoulder like they're no more than featherweight sandbags.
Thomas can do the same of course, as can most of his people. But it's different seeing someone who looks like an pencil-pushing office worker do it.
A crowd of his guild members have filed out of the building after they noticed the delivery truck, and Thomas there as well. They're picking through the boxes and items like kids in a toy store. He's already given them the address to contact and the budget they have for spending on getting their own things customized, if they need it.
The close combat ones are going over armor and weapons, while the Russian assassin duo peruse the collection of bows and knives.
(he finds them a bit cliché, too. russian assassins.)
The mages don't seem too happy. There's less options to choose from.
"How is it?" he asks the closest one.
Marc Evans, one of the newest hires, startles and looks around. "..Me, sir?"
"Yeah, you. How's the staff?"
"This stick is a piece of shi-" He lets out a hiccup and glances at the delivery man, Mahir. He's too busy unloading the last of the stuff to pay attention. "I mean, it's usable. It'll keep me alive."
The other mage snorts. "Don't fucking lie, Marc."
"Shut the fuck up, Ange."
"It'll keep me alive, are you stupid? Might as well use a twig with a mana crystal tied to it."
"You fucking loon. You wanna say that to his face?"
"You know what? Yeah, I will." Ange, another mage, takes the staff and marches up to the truck. Thomas keeps an eye on him. "Hey, delivery boy. Who the fuck made this?"
"You have complaint? You make in writing. Give to your boss to send to address."
Mahir's accent is thicker than Thomas has ever heard it. Which isn't saying much since he's only known the man two days. It sounds like the kind of accent his mother would pull out when dealing with unruly people in uncle René's bistro.
"What kind of fucking customer service is this?"
"Ah? I am not customer service. I am delivery. What do you expect to be done right now, eh? You want new stick? No other stick here. You want better stick? Two weeks. You want to make order? I can take order. You figure out what you want first."
Ange freezes, stammers for a moment, then turns to Thomas. He holds back a laugh and feels like he's minding a pack of teenagers.
"You heard the man. Make a custom order if you want."
"-But, boss!"
"What? We have a raid tomorrow. If you want to get a new staff elsewhere, go ahead. You're not going in without gear."
"Yeah," Marc takes the staff back. "Get your own if you don't like these."
"You're gonna raid with that? Seriously?"
"You're not going to? Just because the staff's a little subpar? Fine, that's your paycheck you're giving up."
The continue on for another moment, but eventually Ange does pick something to use for the moment. It isn't bad, compared to what they had to use at the very beginning, but it certainly not something that'll hold up for very long in the hands of someone as strong as Thomas's people are.
"Hunters," he mutters and heaves a sigh. Mahir chuckles. "Think Caleb can handle them?"
"He doesn't meet customers usually. It will probably be me or another worker. There won't be an issue."
"That's good. I like Caleb's work." He looks the other man up and down briefly. "You're a fighter?"
"Probably." Mahir sits down at the edge of the truck to watch the rest of Thomas's guild buzzing around. "I did not get the full evaluation, only registration."
"Really? You don't plan to go into a gate? There's a lot of money to be made."
"I have a job." The man makes a sweeping gesture to the truck and the crowd of hunters. "I make things and I deliver them. It is good money. Safe money. I don't see need to go into a gate."
"Can't imagine that." Thomas leans against the truck next to him, watching his own guild members. "You don't get that.. that itch?"
"To do what? Throw myself into danger?"
"Well, that's one reason why we do it."
"Nobody here does it for any reason but money." Mahir lights up a cigarette and offers Thomas one. It's a bit small for his size and his cigars aren't with him, so he turns it down. "If it's money I want, I can make that in other ways."
"What about Caleb?"
It's a few moments before Mahir responds.
"..He has that itch. I see him staring at the gates sometimes. His mana, it dances. He is strong."
Thomas nods. "He is."
"He wants to go. I know he does." The man's gaze goes distant. "I also know he wants to stay. So I help him stay."
Thomas remembers the first time he met Caleb.
David Brennan had sent him to meet with the first generation of Awakened 'craftsmen' willing to try making things to help them fight off the monsters.
"I'd rather be cooking," Caleb said then. "I'm a chef. But I Awakened and my family's been a fucking ass about it, so here I am."
Maybe it was his family name, or his rank. Not that they knew about rankings then. Power levels were all superlative and based on guesses and instinct. Charisma, he supposes. Caleb had that. Enough to attract several people to work with and for him.
As far as his skill went... well. Everyone's 'crafting' skill in the early days was more or less the same. Only the Awakened could even think to handle monster materials from the gates, and since Awakening wasn't something that anyone could just decide to do, the guarantee of an already skilled metalworker or armorsmith being Awakened was quite low. Thomas didn't know enough about that side of the Awakener/hunter business to know how successful it was to train the average Awakened person in crafting.
He'd gotten his armor and a makeshift weapon that day, and all was well.
Until he broke them.
Caleb and his cobbled-together smithy cursed up a storm when Thomas came back for replacements under the assumption that the quality might be lacking. It happened a few more times and they finally got the memo that Thomas's strength was probably at fault. And there really wasn't anything that anyone could do about that. The materials fucking sucked.
"Can't blame the ingredients," Caleb muttered. "Not the pots or pans. Not the knife. It's the chef. You pick shitty ingredients, you do a shitty job, you get shitty food."
"...But if it's rotten ingredients, the food'll be bad no matter what, won't it?"
"The chef should know it's rot- never mind. Just bring some better shit for me to work with."
Ange calls first dibs on the materials they find in the raid. Probably for a good reason, too. The staff he'd ended up using from the temp stock looks worn out already after just one run.
Thomas makes a note to find out how to get them to learn to control their mana output. The guild will start losing money at this rate if he has to constantly replace equipment until he can get a better, more permanent set.
"C-Grade piece of... why haven't they made any good shit yet? It's been half a year already."
Marc scoffs. "They have made some. You just don't want to pay for it."
"I'm paying for it now, aren't I?"
"Only because boss said you had to."
Ange opens and closes his mouth a few times in silence. He catches sight of Thomas's attention, so Thomas gives him a knowing look. Ange, to his credit, has the decency to seem somewhat apologetic.
They file back into the guild building to clean up and put their gear away. Thomas wipes down quickly and waits for them in the ground floor lounge, flipping through the news. There's already a preliminary report by journalists that had been outside the gate.
He's relieved to hear that most of it is very factual and neutral in tone. The clamor and criticism of the early days isn't as common anymore. If he listens closely to certain stations, there's even a bit of praise.
Makes him feel just the slightest bit better about what he's done so far.
By the time his guys roll up in the lounge, the news has moved onto covering another gate. He hits the mute button and lets it keep playing while he turns to the team he'd just run a raid with.
It isn't their first, and it won't be their last. But it's one of the first few they've done since shifting to for-profit ventures.
It feels... different.
"..We've another raid in a couple of days," Thomas says at the end of a short debriefing. "Get some rest and training in the mean time. You all know the Holly Smith's contact info and address to make your own orders. If you plan to go elsewhere, you can still use the budget but you're on your own in talking to them. Ask Harper if you run into any problems regarding finances. Questions?"
They look at each other, nudging one another in the side until someone musters up the will (and nudging) to raise their hand. Just like a bunch of highschool kids.
"Boss, aren't you strong enough to clear some of the weaker gates on our own? Us, too? Why don't we schedule some more raids instead of all this downtime?"
"Because other people are bidding on gates, and we don't make enough profit on any gate below C-Rank." Thomas squints his eyes at them. "..Your contracts don't say anything about taking on gates in your free time, but remember you still need to rest. If I think you're unfit to raid when the time comes, you will stay behind. Plus, you won't make much more from raiding them."
They look a bit startled and unhappy, but the topic drops. They'll probably go through with it anyway. Thomas expects this one will be the first to be left out of a raid after overworking themselves.
Short of banning it, though, there isn't much he can do to stop them from doing it. Monetary compensation for clearing gates with the Scavenger Guild isn't lacking for the work they're doing, even from a new hire's perspective. It's none of his business or responsibility if they want more than that, even if low-rank gates pay substantially less.
"Anything else?" No one speaks up. Thomas grunts in approval. "Dismissed. Keep your ears open for emergencies."
"Yes sir!"
"Don't do that."
"..Okay, sir!"
"Stop-" He lets out a not-entirely-upset sigh when someone snickers. "Just go."
He watches them file out, chatting amongst themselves and some of them making plans to hang out later. Drinks. A drink sounds good right about now.
Thomas takes out his phone as he heads to his office. He dials a number and doesn't get a connection until he's inside and the door is shut.
"Thomas!"
"Hey, Sheri."
"What's up? You don't usually call in the middle of the day."
"My schedule's free, so I was wondering how yours is today."
"I'm still in the office but I'll be off in a few hours. You wanted to meet up?"
"Drinks, if that sounds good with you. Reid's invited too. We can even get dinner."
"Is that a date night I hear, Thomas?"
"So call me a third-wheel. I haven't seen you guys in a while."
Sheri's laugh comes over the other end of the line. "I'll see if Chris is free tonight. I think he's still at the racetrack."
"Still? He doesn't have a race coming up, does he?"
"Probably just having fun out there. I think they changed some of the event dates around after the gates started appearing."
"I'll send him a text then. Steakhouse sounds good?"
"Absolutely."
"Then I'll send you the details later."
"Lookin' forward to it! Stay safe, alright?"
"You too."
Chris Reid pulls into the steakhouse parking lot with a roar of his engine. When he gets out, someone gives him a dirty look for making a ruckus this late in the evening.
He gives them the middle finger.
"Be nice!" Thomas shouts from where he's waiting across the lot. He sees Reid jump in place and spin around to look for him.
Sheri gets out of the passenger seat, laughing.
"Do you have eyes on the back of your head or something?" Reid says once they've gotten closer to him.
"What'd you expect from an S-Rank?"
"I dunno, something less superhuman?" Reid suddenly perks up and leans closer. "Hey, can you hear through walls? Do you have x-ray vision? Can you see-"
Sheri wraps an arm around his head and puts him in a headlock.
"—Wh- Sheri!" Reid wriggles and flails like a fish on dry land. She hasn't lost much, if any, of her muscle mass, so he isn't breaking out of the hold easily. "Let go!"
She looks at Thomas instead. "Do you think he'd fight as much if I had tits instead?"
"I mean, he's gay, isn't he? Maybe not?"
"I'm gay! No tits!"
"Not even man-tits?" Sheri snickers down at him.
Reid pauses for a moment. "..I'm not allowed to grope you in public am I?"
"Don't bother, I haven't got any."
"I'd refute that but you could probably pop my head off like a champagne bottle, so... pretty please, babe, don't kill me?"
By the time they get to the restaurant entrance, Sheri and Reid have their elbows linked and are trying to it make it a challenge to reach their pockets with their arms like that.
Thomas rolls his eyes and goes to the receptionist.
"Reservation for three, one hunter. Under Thomas Andre."
The receptionist looks a little flustered at his presence but she readily brings them to a private room. She lays down their menus and eases the door shut on her way out.
"I got one of the hunter platters ahead of time, so we should be getting the first round of food soon while you guys look at the menus."
"We can't eat that much," Reid says. "We're not hunters."
"Don't worry, I could finish it on my own. They don't have an S-Rank option so I'll get another one later."
"Wine?" Sheri scans the separate wine menu. "We have to drive, though."
Reid hums. "I can drive, I don't feel like drinking tonight."
"A glass of rosé, then. We can drink more at home."
"I'll get a red. Figure it'll burn off before the night is over."
"Lord, I never want to see a drunk hunter. No offense."
"Takes road rage to another level, that's for sure."
"You gotta deal with that on raids?"
"Hmm.. They get a bit testy sometimes. Especially the new ones. They've got egos."
"It's like being in college sports all over again." Reid snorts. He leans closer to Sheri. "You ready to order, babe?"
"Hm... I'm thinking a ribeye. You?"
"Something small... Probably the sirloin."
Thomas chuckles. "You on a diet, Reid?"
"I can't put on too much weight if I wanna stay on the track, y'know?"
"Can't relate to that," Thomas and Sheri say at the same time. They both laugh after.
Reid throws an arm around Sheri's shoulders even though she's taller than he is. He leans back in his seat with a smarmy-looking grin. "Well, you both end up looking better than I do when I put on a few pounds."
Even though he knows Reid is probably just joking, Thomas fights down the heat in his face and just barks out a laugh.
"That's because all you do is cardio." Sheri leans into him. "I keep telling you to join me in the gym some time! I don't have anyone to work out with now that Thomas is Awakened. He broke one of the presses when he tried."
Reid blurts out, "That's hot."
Thomas makes a choking noise and thinks about hiding his face behind the menu, but given his size that might seem too obvious.
He does it anyway.
Sheri laughs. She's still laughing when Thomas peeks over the menu and sees Reid is face down on the table. His arms are over his head and his shoulders are definitely shaking.
Thomas whaps him on the arm with the menu. "That was terrible."
"But you're blushing!" Sheri crows out.
"I'm embarrassed for him."
"You liked it!"
"Sheri, you goddamn traitor-"
Mr. Thomas Andre,
You are considered our country's strongest Unmeasurable Awakened and S-Rank hunter. As such, I would like thank you for the service you have provided your community and the country. I believe I can speak for our people that we are grateful for what you've done for us.
I'd like to invite you to attend the first International Hunters Conference. In our discussions with Awakened Associations in other regions and countries, we have decided to host a conference to facilitate an exchange of information related to Awakening, Hunters, Gates, Dungeons, and Raids. It will take place December 5-11, 2004, at the XX Stadium. We are also inviting businessmen and other notable Awakened individuals from the United States and across the globe.
More details and an itinerary of events can be found on our website at www.fbh.gov/events/ihc.
I hope you will accept this invitation and I look forward to seeing you at the conference, Thomas.
Regards,
David Brennan
Hunter Relations, Federal Bureau of Hunters
"What's with the formal invite stuff, Agent David?"
"That's why it's called a formality, Thomas."
"You told me about the event last week. Is this perfumed?"
"What- of course not! "
"Sure about that? You should talk to whoever's sending your mail." Thomas laughs, leaning back in his chair. "It looks personal. Did you write it yourself?"
"Not all of them. Yours and a few others."
"Ooh, whose?"
"When did you become such a gossip? Yours, some world leaders, and the strongest hunters from most countries."
"Like Liu Zhigang?"
"You seem oddly interested in him," Brennan chuckles. "Do you want us to acquire him after all?"
Thomas coughs and clears his throat. "What are we, professional athletes? Stop that. Just curious, that's all."
"We considered it, but aside from the Suzhou Dungeon Break, he hasn't really been on the news much. Probably because of the initial training. It doesn't seem like he's leading a guild, which is odd if he really was that strong. But.. we did get a request to let him attend."
"That's.. bold. From whom? Let me guess."
"The Chinese Hunter Association."
"I said let me guess."
"Haha. They're pretty insistent on having him attend, even though he's not a leader amongst their hunters or anything like that. Like I said, he doesn't have much presence outside of the Suzhou incident, so we don't have a reason to invite him. But I guess he'll be showing up anyway. We don't have a reason in particular to refuse his attendance."
Typical politics.
"Fine with me. I'm not getting involved with that politic stuff."
"The entire conference is a politic stuff, Thomas."
"Don't say that, I almost don't want to go."
"It's too late for that, I'm afraid." Brennan says this, but he doesn't sound sorry at all. "We'll be sending out a final list of attendees soon for the press and it would look bad for both of us if you didn't show up."
"I think they call this blackmail in some parts of the world."
"Nonsense! Who would dare blackmail The Great Thomas Andre, our country's strongest S-Rank?"
"The Great Thomas Andre, huh? Sounds kinda.. corny."
"I'm glad you prefer to focus on that instead of the blackmail."
"I've got my priorities straight. I can't believe you were able to convince that many top-tier hunters to leave their countries and gates for a week to attend this conference."
"Well, the jury is still out on whether they'll actually show up. If we make a big enough fuss about it through the media, they just might have to come no matter what."
"Blackmail."
"Social pressure is a very natural phenomenon in human society."
"Of which you're taking full advantage of."
"We are only human, Mr. Andre."
"Yeah, about that too." Thomas sits up a little. "Is it really a good idea to have that many foreign hunters under one roof? You sure they'll behave? ...Don't tell me you want me to play police and keep them in line."
"Not.. intentionally. But since you're already there..."
"I'm not promising anything. Already got my hands full with the Scavengers. Is the guild invited too? I'm not gonna be security if other guilds are gonna be there, and I doubt my guild will want to help."
"We can discuss payment."
"Agent David. My boys are not security. In fact, I wouldn't even trust some of them to not make trouble if they were attending."
Like Ange. And the Russians might do good work, but he suspects at least one of them has as short a fuse as Ange does.
..Actually, given the fact that they're Russian, he's pretty sure Brennan wouldn't want them involved in security to begin with. They already get a fair amount of press aimed at them.
"Well, that's true. You do have a few.. unique individuals."
"You mean a security risk?"
"I didn't say that."
See?
"I'll make sure they behave if they're there, but we're not going to be peacekeeping."
"Alright, alright. But you will be attending?"
"Yeah. I'd like to see what hunters from other countries are like."
"Let me know if you see anyone who looks promising."
"Will you stop with that?"
"Haha. I'll see you there, Thomas."
Thomas hangs up and sighs, setting the phone down. Looking out the window, he can see the building where the conference will be held as well as the Federal Bureau of Hunters branch building. Given that the HQ is near the capitol of the country, it's.. safer, probably, to have the conference here in California. On the other side of the country.
Even moreso given that Thomas's guild is pretty much right around the corner.
He's noticed land prices going up recently around this area, too. It was already going up a bit after his guild was established, and after the FBH settled a branch here, it's gone up even more.
Sheri and Reid have been bringing up the matter, too. By some stroke of luck, they had an apartment under a relatively reasonable landlord. Though they couldn't say the pricing was completely fair, at the very least, he wasn't trying to get them to move out so he could raise the rent prices for the next tenant.
The fact that they're friends with Thomas Andre, the strongest hunter in America, might have something to do with it. But he's fine with that. It's the same with his mother's house, and pretty much the entire cul-de-sac where she lives. And the area around the bistro where she works.
He makes sure to visit often enough to keep it that way. She's family.
As for Sheri and Reid, he's known them long enough, been through enough with them, that he won't stand to see them priced out of this city and away from his immediate zone of protection.
The three of them had gotten cornered in an alley during the initial Mana Advent, fending off bottom-feeder goblins with metal pipes. They weren't Awakened, but Thomas and Sheri could hold their own as long as they didn't get surrounded.
The barricade hadn't held up very long and most of the others who had sought shelter with them were either injured or in shock, huddled in the back room of a laundromat. Goblins weren't what they'd consider 'intelligent life', but they were clever enough. Also outnumbered Thomas's group by way too much.
The last thing he remembered before his 'awakening', as they called it later, was a horde of the goblins pulling down the barricade, climbing over each other's bodies, and trying to force their way through the door. Someone was screaming.
When it was over, he'd blown away half of the building they were in and a dozen others. The alleyway had basically caved in on itself, and everyone who was still inside the laundromat (or what remained of it) was a little more shaken and tattered from all the rubble.
When first responders finally made it to them, Thomas was trying to baseball-pitch goblin corpses back into that gate thing everyone was saying they'd come out of.
A couple months later, he'd seen the bidding prices for goblin hides and bones that people were trying to make gear and weapons out of.
He tried not to think too much about how much money he'd literally thrown down the drain.
Never mind the fact that, by that point, he was already making way more money than what he could get from just selling a few low-Rank monster corpses. It was a habit, to think about getting money where he could, one that he couldn't change even after Awakening.
There were plenty of people who went back to their normal lives after the initial wave of monsters. There were many more who tried.
Thomas tried. But whatever happened back then, in that alley, had changed him.. far too much.
It was easy to feel distanced from other people. Normal people. He kept in touch with Sheri and Reid whenever he could. He made sure to spend some casual time with the Awakened people he worked with, and who worked for him. Made sure to look at them past their newfound abilities and the irritability that came with new Awakeners.
Simple enough. For some reason, whenever a bunch of Awakened and hunters get in a room together, everything eventually devolves into normie gossip no matter how short their fuses are.
The beauty of humanity, he supposes.
He changed his mind.
The beauty of humanity is whatever made Liu Zhigang go from looking like a Short King to the embodiment of 'if Adonis and Hercules had a kid together'.
("he does not look anything like that," reid says. insistently. all while his eyes dart back and forth between thomas and the image of liu zhigang's glow-up on thomas's phone. "not even remotely."
he stares a second too long.
sheri is laughing her ass off next to him.
reid scowls at thomas. "you have horrid taste in men."
sheri laughs even harder.)