One of the lookouts flags me on a visitor, so I drop an Arcane Eye nearby to look: It's Jessica, coming up the drive.  Well… at least the system works. I let the summons know she's good to come and go as she pleases, and to obey her when she doesn't contradict me.

When she gets to the door, she asks the "butler" "Who are you?"

And he gives a name.  In Celestial. Of course. I mentally flag Jessica, 《Ah… don't mind the summoned creatures. I'm expecting a visit from a mob rep soon, and want to present strongly so we can bypass the various tests they might send my way. The butler, maids, and guards are all harmless to you. And they'll generally do what you tell them.》

《A mob rep?》

Right, I haven't updated Jessica. 《Yes. Turns out my rapist was Alfred Hanlon…》

《... of the Hanlon family. Of course. Because why wouldn't a random drunk guy have high end mob connections? Please continue.》

《...and he fled the country. He managed to slip past the net James laid to catch him, and…》

《Let me guess: He's a she now, and is probably going to be stuck selling her body wherever she ends up.》

《... remarkably close. I turned him into a dark chocolate bombshell, made him unable to use words, and set him up with the pilot while the plane was still in the air. They're going to have a lot of kids.》

《But the Hanlons never ran before, and they can't fight you, and you just proved they can't run or hide either, so you're expecting they'll send an envoy. Hence the prep.》

《Yes. James spelled it out for me.》

《So that's why we're keeping slaves now?》

《We've been over this, they're just …》... completely obedient intelligent creatures bound to serve by magic. Umm… rather than finishing that sentence, I Dimension Door to Jessica, and speak: "These ones can talk. How about we ask one of them to explain?"

Jessica turns to the butler, "So what are you and why do you serve? Are you a slave to magic or anything?"

He gets the context easily enough, "I am a summoned creature, a Celestial archer, specifically a Bralani Azata. This body was formed of the material of the Celestial Realms, was brought here by a spell, and is kept here by the same. My will and autobiographical memories are left behind, where a new body will form in a day if this one doesn't return intact. As long as I remain, the spell keeping me here feeds my home plane, strengthening the forces of good and freedom.  My original is a willing participant in the setup, and while here, my body is filled by the will of the caster. That which is truly 'me' is not here, and cannot be harmed by anything that should befall this body."

"So you're getting paid what you consider a fair wage, it's just not any currency I recognize."

"From my original's perspective, we're coming out ahead in the trade. But all good trades are like that, aren't they? That your first concerns were another's freedom and well-being reflects well on you."

"So I just need to worry about labor and immigration law."

I pipe up, "They're not human, so labor and immigration don't apply," I hope.

Jessica pauses, "And they're getting paid what they consider a good wage. Fine. I'll choose to buy that for now."

I breath a mental sigh of relief as Jessica continues, "So how big is the house staff?"

I take that one, "I have six dressed up as household servants, a dozen dressed up as guards, and over a hundred watching invisibly. But they're all the same under the hood: Skilled archers with a few bonus tricks. Don't expect them to know how to cook or anything, but they can do tasks."

"So… you made an army in an afternoon. Can they do laundry?"

"Once you show them how to use the washer and dryer, they should be able to do it, yes."

"And where are they going to sleep?"

"They don't. No need to eat, either."

"... fine. They can stay. But do get rid of them after you get rid of the mob problem."

"No problem. I'll find something for them to do elsewhere. I am sure there's a soup kitchen, homeless shelter, or some such that could use more volunteers."

"So… you'll set warrior angels to charity work?"

"Basically. There's some finer technical points, but… beings composed of good and …" I'm not going to use the term "Chaos" here, as it does have some connotations … "Freedom. Could have them on search and rescue or something; they can fly now, and should be able to carry a reasonable amount. I may end up needing to dismiss them if they cause issues, but we'll see."

"We'll see," she doesn't seem to think it'll work out. Well… I can at least try. And I do have them set up for nonlethal takedowns….

About two hours after that cargo flight was scheduled to land, a fancy black Buick pulls into the driveway - the Bralani's report it, but I still had an Arcane Eye running, and saw it myself.

I have the "butler" get the door for the two men in silk suits and Fedora hats, opening it just before they ring the bell. I can tell they're armed pretty easily, but the suits are tailored specifically to make it hard to tell they're packing (either X-Ray Vision or my sky high Perception skill would do the job, and I have both).

I let them sit for a few minutes, and read them slowly with Detect Thoughts, Detect Anxieties, and Detect Desires. Seems they don't really believe their bosses that this "black witchy woman" is as dangerous as they claim. They figure bullets put everyone down so they're not concerned. But they're under orders to give me the respect due a Don. One of the two is scared of spiders, the other has a scorpion phobia. And they both like to win at cards.  

Oh yes, and I also get a nice read on their mental stats that way: They're pretty dull at Int-8 and 7 foolish at Wis-6 and 7, but easy enough to get along with at Cha-14 and 15. Thugs, with some Sorcerer potential.

Not that I want to give magic to the mob. That would be BAD.

After letting them stew, I use Greater Invisibility and Dimension Door into the room, then use Slight of Hand to lift their main guns - I let them keep their holdout pistols, knives, and brass knuckles. I stow their guns with Slight of Hand myself, then dismiss my invisibility in full view of the two.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you?"

They actually bow; seems they follow orders even when they think it's stupid, "Greetings Mr. Carlson. Don Hanlon would like to cordially invite you to a tet-a-tet with himself and the other Dons in the state, tomorrow night at the Dark Dragon restaurant on the corner of 8th and 12th. He's booked the entire venue for the night."

I nod, "You can tell Don Hanlon I plan to attend, with a few advisors." I pause, "Oh, and are these yours?" I show them their main firearms, nice big 45's, apparently standard issue for the intimidation factor, as they're identical.

It's telling that they check their holdout pistols first, but they do check their main guns' hiding places, and nod.

I notice the safeties are already off, take one in each hand, consider a moment: Do I really trust my abilities that much? Well… they did bring me back from the dead… and fire one shot from each into my own head. I then calmly hand them their guns, and whisper, "Your boss is right to tell you to be respectful," and conjure a cloth to wipe the splattered lead off of my face.

Oh, the looks on their faces. So fun that it now takes 31 points of damage to even scratch me physically, and guns are modeled at just 1d8. Energy damage is even less effective - that takes 51 for the five most common sources (21 for rarer types).

It takes them a few moments to collect themselves. When they do, the first to speak stutters out, "We'll tell the Don immediately. Do we have your leave, Mr. Carlson?"

I smile and nod. The two bow again, then run back to their car. I listen in with Perception as they do.

"So…. you gonna tell the boss that plan A ain't gonna work this time?"

"I think he already knows. The don told us to treat him like another don, and even coached us in calling him Mr."

"You’re still calling her that now that we're away?"

"When the guy who takes away your gun shoots himself in the head and then hands your gun back to you, you call him Mr. if he wants, no matter how titanic his ta-tas. Nor how many of them. Nor how sweet his voice. And nevermind the color of his skin or his skirt. Because what do you think you can do if he gets mad?"

"OK, yeah, that's fair."

"Great! And you're telling the boss."

"Me! Why me?"

"Because I had to spell it out for you, obviously."

"Bah… fine. And I think you're right: He was expecting something like that anyway.  The boss is scary smart."

"That's why he's the boss."

About this time they get out of range. I could Scry them, but… nah. They're just thugs.

So I wonder what they're serving for dinner?