“I’m sure you did,” Sammy says, matching my refusing gaze with one of demanding stubbornness. “That might work on your boo thang, but you should know better to try that on me. Try again.”

Why does it seem like there’s an overlapping image of our mom? “Fine, fine, fine. But make sure you don’t burn the food.”

A beeping from the oven indicates my fateful friend, the great distraction that is food! However, to my dismay, she gets up, stops the timer, checks the food, and then closes the oven again. Beep, boop. She sets a new timer and comes back, eyeing me with those piercing blue eyes.

“Where should I start?” I ask, leaning back with a sigh, resigning myself to a fair amount of storytime.

“From the beginning, obviously.” She points towards my EID that sits in the middle of the table. “How’d you get that?”

“I suppose that’s close enough to the beginning.” I recount my adventure over the last five days, not leaving out a single detail. “So yeah, there you have it.”

She looks at me like I’ve just walked out of a horror story. “I thought I had to be concerned about him, but everything you just told me sounds insane.”

“Oh, I know.” I point around at the kitchen. “Doesn’t sound much more insane than living in this place, though.”

“The two things aren’t comparable!” she exclaims. After the initial concern passes, she sighs. “So you’ve really been working hard. I knew you would be, but now you don’t even have to sleep?” She lifts her hand. “And if I get one of those cards, I’ll also be upgraded like this Jimmy guy?”

“Dunno.”

“Reassuring.” We sit in silence until the oven beeps again. She hops up to take out our finished meal, pulls two bowls from a cabinet, and then manifests another two spoons from who knows where. “Come on. Get up and grab some food. I’m not mom, so don’t expect me to serve you.”

“Didn’t expect you to. Just waiting for a certain someone to get her big head out of the way,” I say with a smirk. She gives me her signature eye roll while making her way to the table, and then I get up, fill my bowl, and sit back down. I take the second spoon off the table and pocket my EID. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Thanks for coming on such short notice. It really does mean a lot to me,” she says, blowing on her food. She taps her phone and pulls up a picture of a montage of several news articles. “Like I was saying earlier, the chaos across the world is getting a bit tense. You’d think that devils and Towers appearing out of nowhere all across the world would be a reason for our species to come together. But no. Just more fighting.”

Taking a bite, I nod. “Can always count on people to fight over their differing opinions.” With a quick look around the kitchen, I find what I’d spotted earlier, a coffee pot. Setting my spoon in the bowl, I get up and make my way over. “Can I?”

“Go ahead. Mugs are in the cabinet above. Coffee and sugar is kept down below, and creamer, you can find in the fridge. They keep that liquid stuff.” She sounds impressed, but I don’t blame her. “If you don’t know about all the big headliners, have you heard about what’s happening locally?”

“How would I know?” I ask as I fill the pot, pour it into the brewer, and then finish up by putting a filter with enough coffee to touch my soul inside. Beep, boop. Coffee’s started, so I make my way back to my seat. “I told you all I know, which I imagine is a lot more than most people know at this point in time.”

“So much more,” she says over a mouthful, nodding. “If I can get a few articles up, I think I can help quite a few people.”

“Might be something to look into.” I take another bite of the shepherd’s pie. How Sammy makes it reminds me exactly of our grammy’s from when we were younger. Good times. “So what were you saying about local news? Should I be concerned about what’s going on?”

“Hmm.” She casts a concerned gaze towards the door leading to the rest of the mansion. “People have been dying in the Towers all across the world. One of Matthew’s friends died on the first day. I think that’s what’s getting to him, if I’m being honest, but that’s beside the point. The local government is raising a militia to block off entry to the Towers of Abundance.”

“That’s… not going to solve anything,” I surmise, thinking about how that could quickly cause far more problems instead of making anything better.

“You probably aren’t aware, but the Tower Matthew goes to is only a few minutes down the road. It’s been reported that there’s at least five within driving distance.” She stares into her empty bowl. “When you said I could go with you, does that mean we can go now?”

Spoon clinks against bowl. “Let me finish eating, then we can go.”

“You mean it?” she asks, looking for any sign of deception in my eyes.

“Of course. I’d prefer you be aware of the world we live in, prepared for the worst, and know how to use the tools at your disposal,” I explain, taking another bite after. Seeing the empty bowl, I go for seconds. “So tell me a bit more about this Matthew fellow. What about him gets you all hot and bothered, little sis?”

“Please, never say those two things in the same sentence ever again,” she groans. A few moments pass before I get a response in the form of a single noncommittal shrug. “Dunno. Just do.”

To be young again. “There are worse reasons to like someone, I guess.”

“I mean, he’s nice. Doesn’t hit on me all the time like the other roomies, so there’s that.” She hummed in contemplation before shrugging again. “Yeah, I couldn’t tell you. He just has this look in his eye.”

“So he’s a crush who you really don’t know at all?” I summarize, standing up and taking our bowls to the sink. Sponge to clean, water to rinse, rag to dry. The dishes get put away, and the enticing smell of coffee sings to me. “We’ll go to the Tower after I finish this pot.”

“You and your bean water addiction. I’ll never understand,” she says while pulling out a teapot and packets of herbal tea.

“That you don’t see the irony isn’t lost on me,” I mutter.

She glowers at me as she makes the tea. “Got something to say, say it with your chest.”

“Didn’t expect a machismo attitude from you. Of all people, you’d be the last. Then again, dad.” Good ole dad. I’d have to go see him one of these days.

“‘Then again, dad’ is right, and don’t forget it. Otherwise I’ll call and tell him you still haven’t asked that Kat girl out on a date yet,” she taunts, watching my reaction from where she’s playing with her teapot. “You know he’d be mortified.”

Good ole dad. Sighing, I take a sip and let the warmth of my soul juice do its work. The numbness in my limbs from the ride over is cleansed by the bitterness that hardens the will and jumpstarts ambition.

We settle into talking about how life has been and put all the other matters to the side for now. There will be plenty more time to worry about all the aspects of the Towers, the Devil God and his servants, and the rest of the world falling apart in lieu of being abandoned to soulsuckers.

Sometimes a bit of familiar banter and bickering and talks of naive love, basic drama, and what’s been on tv is exactly what the soul needs. Good company is like good coffee.

And too soon, it comes to an end. Sammy finishes her tea, and I my coffee.

“Ready to go?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

*

With her astounding navigation skills that require us to turn around twice, we make the trip in thirty minutes. There aren’t as many Doom Buses flowing in and out of this Tower. As far as I can see, there’s very little anything in these parts.

But maybe the Tower would change that in the near future.

“So what are we doing here exactly?” Sammy asks once we hop off my bike, about as excited to see the Tower as I was. “Doesn’t look all that impressive from the outside.”

“I’ll show you.” I double check to make sure the kickstand is down. Doesn’t look like anybody is around to mess with it, but I’ll check with the old crones at the front just to make sure.

She nearly skips up to the attendant in the window and waves enthusiastically, much to the attendant’s lack of amusement. “Hi, good morning!”

The attendant doesn’t even deign to rest her hollow eyes on Sammy and instead glowers at me, showing rotted teeth. She points a gnarled finger from the void of space and in my direction. Once I acknowledge she’s pointing at me, she bends it in a “come here” gesture.

Nodding, I make my way over and point towards my bike. “Can you make sure nobody messes with my ride?”

The attendant doesn’t take her eyes off me but snaps. Looking towards the motorcycle, a faintly visible variable of black surrounds it.

I thank her and then gesture towards Sammy. “How’s this whole Numberless card thing work?”

Sammy can barely stand still next to me. “Yes, tell us!”

I look at her and sigh, then turn back to the attendant. “Please.”

“Save your pleasantries, Gaian One,” the crone hisses, her voice trawling as if bored. She points at Sammy. “Registry?”

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “If you would, please.”

A red handprint glows at the window she’s working at, and Sammy jumps up to place her hand down. Just as before with my own card, the blood trickles down to a black card that appears in the hand of the old crone.

The details fill before my eyes, and then we’re waved away. Sammy looks like she wants to continue pestering the helpful witch, but I herd her away and towards the entrance leading into the market.

Like the Tower I come from, this one shares an identical structure. From the amount of oldies at the window, to the side passages, to the long hallway leading into the marketplace. Everything is the same, which is once again confirmed when I walk down the long hallway and enter the actual marketplace.

“Huh,” I mutter.

However, there is no Cori waiting to harass me this time, and there’s no way she’s not lurking somewhere. Turning to Sammy, I wonder if she’ll have any information on the local delineation of shops and how they interact with the Existential Shop System on a broader scale.

“What do you know about this place from what you’ve read online?”

“Not much.” She shrugs.

Not sure what I expected there, but I suppose it makes sense. If I consider how much I’ve seen in the Tower, and I’ve only been doing this for less than a week, then I doubt anything has become widespread enough to reach her.

Still a bit disappointing. “Think of it as a really big flea market in the middle of the most unsafe place you can think of.”

With a single finger, she does a big loop to indicate the whole market. “This place? Not the Tower of monsters that have a hankering for human flesh?”

I take her finger and point back the way we came in, past that to my bike far in the distance. “Once we got off, everything is a danger. Think of everything on the grounds of the Tower as a lawless place away from any reasonable governance.”

The little bit of mirth and excitement settles a bit as she realizes the danger of the new world she’s stepped into. “I see.”

I don’t like to crush her enthusiasm, but letting the delusion that anything related to the Devil God is ‘safe’ is a good way to find oneself lacking a soul, and that’s likely the least awful thing that can happen to someone.

Shrugging, I point to the card in her hand. “Have you figured all that out yet?”

“Can’t really make much sense of it all, because there’s a prompt about some Transference thing.” She tries to show me, but I only see the black card. “You see?”

After a small shake of my head, I say, “No, but I know. Let me see that.” I snag her status and look it over. “Huh.”

Retainer of: Gaian One

Name: Samantha Kirsten Allen

Dependent Status: Representative

Race: Primordial

Racial Trait 1: Adaptable Genealogy

Imported Racial Trait 2: Duality of Order

Party Role: None

Strength: 3

Endurance: 4

Dexterity: 5

Intellect: 8

Wisdom: 10

Order: Transference (C)

“Not too bad. You’ve got quite the starting wisdom,” I note, concerned about the lack of endurance. By the time I finish looking over her status, she’s had a few chances to read over the prompts. “What are you looking at there?”

“I’ve got two, actually. One says something about a party and raid role thing that I can’t quite parse. The other says something about choosing an attribute.”

I offer her status back, and she takes it. After a quick explanation for the different attributes and what the Order of transference is, she nods with a bit more understanding.

“I see.” She hums for a moment, then turns to me while softly waving the card in my face. “So what do you suggest? You’re the most knowledgeable about all this stuff.”

She thinks I’ll make figuring out her build that easy for her. Funny. “Figure it out.”

“What?” She looks at me blankly, searching for some unknown sign in my face. It’s not there. “Wyatt… Come on.”

I look around as if I don’t hear her constant attempts to get me to divulge all my secrets. “Wyatt isn’t home right now, please leave a message after the beep.”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” she grumbles, tossing her hands up in defeat. “Why are you like this?”

“You know what the attributes and ability do. I’m not gonna baby you,” I deadpan, meeting her pouty gaze. When she doesn’t stop, I sigh. “You’re just going to do something else, no matter what I tell you.”

“So?”

“So why should I give you my opinion if it’s going to be ignored?” I mutter. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a troublemaker when we used to play games.”

“That was, like, fifteen years ago!” she exclaims, looking around to see if anybody would come running over after hearing her outburst. Nobody does. They don’t care. “You weren’t kidding. This palace really doesn’t care about what’s going on.”

“It’s dangerous. I’ve already had to fight more than a couple people off,” I state, thinking of Lorain, Dorian, and Jack. “I’m sure I’ll have to fight even more people as the times go on and more people start coming to the Towers. And maybe even the police if they try to stop me from coming.”

She sucks in a breath. “Would you really?”

I level my gaze at her. “Is that a serious question?”

A moment passes before she shakes her head. “Nevermind. I know you better than that.”

“They better hope they don’t try to get in my way too much.”

The thought of hurting innocents trying to follow orders doesn’t sit well with me, but I most certainly won’t let ignorant people put my family at risk and in the path of inevitable soul consumption to soothe their egos.

Seeing her lost puppy dog look, I have a bit of mercy on her and take three hundred Coins from my status. They form into a neat pile in my hand. Light as a feather, I hand them over. “There’s all the help I’m giving you. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

It takes both of her hands cupped together to hold the Coins, and I push her forward. “This looks like a lot. Are you sure? Tomorrow is the taxation.”

“I’ve got more than enough for that. No worries,” I say, assuaging her concerns. “As for your Order of Transference, the biggest advice I can give is to not neglect your endurance.”

She purses her lips. “Thought you’d say something like that.” After confirming the prompt and looking at me deviously, she points towards the second. “And what about the second one labeled party and raid system? What should I do for that?”

“Before I answer,” I start, feeling a headache coming on, “tell me what attributes you selected.”

“I linked wisdom to dexterity, obviously,” she states, meeting my eyes and grinning impishly. “Endurance is good and all, but if I have such high intellect and wisdom, it makes more sense for me to be some kind of caster.” She poses with her hands over her heads as if she’s controlling some great amount of energy and brings them down in front of her. “Crashing meteors onto the heads of my enemies! Just how dope would that be?”

“Nobody says dope anymore,” I groan. “That doesn’t explain why you didn’t dump wisdom into intellect then.”

She rolls her eyes. “Brother, oh brother of mine. When will you ever learn?”

“Here we go.” I’m curious to see where her imagination continues to take her.

“Standardly, in roleplaying games like this, you don’t double down into your specialty. That makes your weaknesses even more pronounced. What I’ve done is given myself the speed and wiggle room necessary to evade those who would wish me harm, you see?”

“Endurance could make you strong enough to ignore attacks at all,” I retort, crossing my eyes and scowling at her with disapproval. “This is a hill I’ll die on, little sister.”

“You’re wrong and should feel wrong,” she says, sticking a tongue out. Her role selection goes away, meaning she picks one. “We’ve never seen eye to eye, so leave me alone. Let me do my thing.”

“You’re a pain in my ass. I swear,” I groan, shaking my head. “I knew you’d do this. Why am I surprised that you’re doing it now?”

“Your problem. Not mine,” she says playfully, looking at the Coins in her hand. Sparkling eyes look up at me, and our problems diffuse into mirthful laughter. She loves shopping, and I’ve just given her a veritable fortune. “I’ll be back!”

“I’m glad you know better to ask me to go shopping with you.” I wave her away and wander off through the marketplace with a few ideas of what I might want for myself.