Although she was surprised at Other Dipshit’s appearance, she wasn’t surprised about where he came from.

The shadows in the shop liked her and Miles, and she liked them, too. They preferred to wander, venturing in and out of the greenhouse, the shop, and the bunker for the past two weeks. Before the shop was able to be lived in, they peeked around corners in her hotel suite, peekabooing in and out of her room and bathroom. Lately, she could almost hear them whispering at each other, having conversations she guessed she wasn’t privy to.

She figured they would make themselves known as soon as they decided she was a safe monster, although she was expecting a quieter way of introduction.

The splashing blood and cracking bones just really sold the scene.

This is fine.

Looking at the two attempted arsonists, she pondered what to do with them. She cast a heal on the mostly dead one on the floor and contemplated her options. She put a finger on her chin in a classic thinking pose.

"Give me a minute, Pup, I'm thinking," she ran down a list of her options.

If the system was booted (and she was not willing to kill herself to get out), and she wanted to do a hero run, she’d attempt to bend them to her side. She would offer them money and power, tempered with mercy and forgiveness. Make them see the folly and destruction of their lives up to now and she would try to redeem the almost unredeemable.

Fuck that.

If she was going to be the villain, she’d either kill them both in a grisly manner and send pieces back to whoever their boss was, or make them be double agents to lead her to what was probably a tiny street gang. At most, it would be a fully-fledged [Rogue]’s guild.

Fuck that, too.

She just wanted all the flags to leave her be. She wanted Puppy to see that he and the kids were safe with her, in the store and house and her life, so his hackles would relax. She could sense that he carried a worry that the other shoe was about to drop, and everything she did seemed to make it worse, somehow. She wanted him to be able to relax a bit, and an attack on his new territory was not conducive to that.

She wanted less bullshit to be flung at the five of them.

As she came up with the best plan she could think of on the fly for the Dipshits, she had a realization: My pacifist run is still going. Dipshit’s concussion doesn’t count if I heal it. And I wasn’t the one who wrecked the other one. Perfect score for my first confrontation. Neat.

---

In the early hours of a weekday morning, in an office in a high-rise building, an average-looking man wearing an impeccable suit put a piece of paper with the claim of property damages owed face up on his desk and frowned.

When he sent the henchmen to scorch up a questionable building that was purchased questionably, at a questionable time, he had expected to get them delivered back in pieces. He had expected shooting, maybe threats carved into chests, and bloody mayhem and violence. He had expected an old or new gang to jump from the shadows and deal a heavy blow to the Company since they had already put in the work to ensure it was lamed. He was expecting another challenge-- another turf war-- another bloodying of fists; him versus his enemies. He was expecting to know by now whose assets he was working to acquire next.

He didn't expect to have the low lives he sent to turn back up unharmed, refusing to speak, and trying to quit on the same day. When he took those men into an interrogation room and asked them questions, even under torture, he didn't expect they wouldn't talk. Even when promised money and positions of power, they remained steadfast in their silence about what happened. Their refusal to talk did not extend to their ability to beg. They ended up doing a lot of that. These men were the chaff. They were the weak links most organizations kept underfoot. They were the fodder the Company had expected to sacrifice when bodies on their side were expected to drop. They were not the kind to resist the promises of riches or power or resist the eventual promises of the pain to end.

Then, there was the lawyer.

Upon research, he found that Greenleaf Law was a small but well-respected institution in the city. It had quietly opened its doors a century ago and had been passed from father to son four times, each exactly twenty years apart. The Greens, professionally, were notorious sharks; vindictive and brutal in their efficiency for personal suit claims, and sought hungrily by the wealthy for contract negotiations. The Greens, personally, had a reputation for spending money on charitable donations, and campaign contributions, and they rubbed elbows with politicians, celebrities, and the old-money elite.

Boss’s lawyer suggested settling quickly.

He should have known something was off and looked further into the firm when he got the first cease and desist letter. He looked back at the paper on his desk.

YOU ARE BEING SUED.

Truly, he was not expecting this. For his foe to demand to work within the confines of the law. For his foe to have proof of the Company's involvement in the form of signed confessions. It was workable, as he could just disavow the two hoods and that was that. But to sue for five thousand credits --FIVE THOUSAND CREDITS!-- all because of some windows that were broken! It was unexpected, indeed.

This avenue that his enemy was pursuing told him more than a bloody dagger in the two henchmen's necks ever could.

They were either very, very new at building empires in the underbellies of cities, they were clueless as to whose toes they were stepping on, or they were altogether something different -- something he'd only seen once before. They were contractors for bigger power.

If he could figure out who was calling the shots, he might be able to move up the criminal ladder in the city. He'd just have to figure out who the people in the warehouse were working for and he'd make a plan from there.

---

He was dreaming.

He knew he was dreaming because he had lived this already and knew how it ended. In a few minutes, the door will be kicked in and a group of the king’s chaplains will hold him back with threats to his lover’s life, chain him down, and carry his Anais out by her hair while she was still naked and unarmed. They will imprison her for a week, with no food and only piss water, torture her to confess her seduction of the king’s mage on behalf of his enemies, and then they will behead her seven dawns from now.

Earlier this night, she had shared the news with him that she was expecting. They had made love twice and she was dosing with her head on his chest with his arm around her, with her beautiful red hair across his chest, like a flame that only burned in his heart.

This was so early in his life that he still had hope for a way out. Back when he naively thought that if he did one hidden, secret thing right, it would stop. That he’d be able to live out his life, a life, any life, without constantly worrying about what he was supposed to do next. It was back when he still had hopes to stop it—and made plans to grow things, build things, have a family, and make sure they were safe for the rest of his life.

It wasn’t so early that he thought he was just dreaming and expected to wake up in bed, with his original body, in his original world. He’d seen his own guts too often to still think that by this point. He knew he wasn’t that imaginative. It was late enough in his journey that he knew it was real, but not before he had lost all hope of ever escaping. It was before he figured out there was nothing to do next— it was the same set of circumstances, over and over and over, every one a scenario he was expected to participate in. Like living in a looping, eternal nightmare.

Anais, his strong, beautiful, and talented mage guard, rubbed her nose across his chest and kissed it. She gave a happy sigh and said, “I can feel you thinking, my love. You’re troubled. Is it the baby? Are you worried?”

He lifted his hand and ran it down her cheek. Held her to him, as if he could pull all of her into his heart and take her away from this life. Carry her with him forever.

”It’s nothing, sweet. Just let me hold you for a minute.” He squeezed her to him and breathed in their combined scents.

”You know, my love, that I will love you forever, right?” She kissed his chest again and slowly drew her leg over his thigh.

“Of course,” he smiled. His heart was full. He loved her too. More than anything. More than his hopes of escape, more than any life he had lived before. More than himself.

”Forever means even after I’m gone and you’re left all alone, you know.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I just had the horrible thought that this is a dream, and I’m going to wake up without you.” His voice cracked.

”I know it’s a dream, Max. But you deserve moments of love, even if you’re far away from me. Or a long time from me, even in the years to come, in all the years you have left. You are still very much loved by me, even though I didn’t get to have you for a long time. It’s okay.” She moved over him and kissed each of his eyelids, each cheek, and then his mouth with a peck.

”You’ve forgotten, though, that I’ll love you forever anyway.” She sat up, straddling him, ran a finger down his chest, and grabbed his member.

”You only try to remember the bad parts of our story and never the good parts. Like how much we loved each other. Like the quiet times we have together when we hold each other and breathe. All the moments we have like this.” She lifted her hips, lined herself up, and slid down his length.

***
Max woke up mid-morning wet between her thighs and with tears on her cheeks. She could still feel the warmth of Anais, her long-ago love, smell her scent, and feel how hot and tight she was. She could remember Anais’s climaxing calls and how she absolutely loved a good fart joke. She had a booming, jolly laugh that took weeks to hear the first time, but rang in memories for a long time after she was gone. She was strong— much more strong than him— and dedicated her life to martial prowess, king, and country. In the end, she was dedicated only to him.

She was a guard assigned by the king to be a shield for his pet mage and became everything that mage ever wanted in a woman.

She died because Max disregarded a king’s order to kill civilians with a fire bomb. She died to teach a lesson and keep Max in line.

That was the first time Max ever truly embraced being the villain, and relished the cries of the chaplains when he set them ablaze. He laughed and laughed when the queen and her children followed suit. He enjoyed the king's pleas for mercy when it was his turn. Although Max would argue that the king was the real villain all along and all of that wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t a raging, power-hungry dick bag, the system log called it differently.

Anais was Max’s first true love. She was exceptional. She was wonderful. She was his. She was worth the pain. She was worthy of being remembered for more than her death and the sadness it caused Max. How selfish was it that the only thing about her Max recalled for eons was how sad her slaying made Max? Used her death as an excuse and called anything reminding Max of her as a flag? Wasn’t she worth more than that?

After wiping her tears, Max realized dream Anais was right— Max avoided thinking about the people she loved in the past. She avoided all the good things that made them lovable. Focused on the tragedies and hurts.

Max didn’t want to spend this run like that. She wanted this one to be as different as Miles promised it would be. She didn’t want to end up seeing her kids as nothing but eventual heartaches, either. She wanted to stop being the empty shell she had been turned into by her existence. She wanted to love. And be loved. And have a family. She was already growing things in her greenhouse, but she always wanted a farm by a forest.

Maybe this time… she stopped herself. She smiled. It was already this time. This time, she already had more than she ever had in the past.

She had Miles, who even if she was forced to re-land tomorrow, would still be with her. He was bound to her ident. She had the kids, who were just as broken as she was but were doing their best to still grab onto safety. To her.

All she had to do now is make sure they were all safe.

The best way to do that is to grab onto life and all it offers.

---

"Remember when we first met and you offered to hire security?" she asked Mr. Green on the phone later that day.

She was feeling surprisingly upbeat, almost hopeful.

A few quick and dirty [Fae Bargain]s made the dipshit brigade leave her place in the early hours of the morning, and she had time to go back to sleep for a while. She woke up and jumped into trying to concoct a plan on how to still be able to avoid all of the bullshit that came her way while maintaining her hands-off approach to the world. And people. And any goddess bullshit. And trouble.

She was cool with the other two classes she had. They were neat. They provided things for her. She could work with that.

The goddess shit was just a flag. And she was tired of those. The whole point of this life with Miles on this plane was to not have to deal with them, to not have to do the cycle and the song-and-dance routine of hero/villainy. And that class smacked of making a choice one way or the other.

She refused. Adamantly.

Even her species, from what she could gather about it, was a double-edged blade. She got cool stuff and the perks like the bargaining ability and a few other minor things made it worthwhile, like her classes and glamour, but the cost came at the apparent non-humanness. Puppy's reaction yesterday to finding out she was different was severe. Non-humanness wasn't a big deal personally to Max, as she'd been non-human as much as human in her life, but she felt it would probably be a big deal in a world in which everyone wore a human face and pretended their hardest that almost a quarter of them were anything but.

That seemed like a flag. The flaggiest flag that has ever been flagged.

"Yes, and I remember you refused it. What changed?" Green took her call directly. He usually sent her to voice mail or his secretary took a message, but today was different since he learned of the attempted arson last night, she guessed.

"I want the kids to be safe. Having dickbags try to wreck the joint the day after I got them is probably unsettling for them. I also wanted to not have to worry, either. I don't want to... I don't want to have to take matters into my own hands. I think it would get in the way of what I had set out to do here. It would be like before. Before I got here. And I don't want it to be the same." Honesty sucks.

Green took a moment of silence and shuffled around papers. "I can send over some temporary people from my own house, but you should think about contracting your own. Having your own that answer solely to you is the best policy to have for a smaller, major house."

"I'm not a major house. I'm just me and the kids."

"And your assistant." He pointedly insisted.

"And my assistant." She admitted, grudgingly.

He said offhandedly, as if his mind were already elsewhere, "You won't be a small house for long. You are a unique entity that has moved into a vacant spot very nicely. It'll be inevitable that new members will approach your house to join."

Sometimes, talking to anyone is overrated. "I won't let them in. I refuse to fill vacancies. I'm officially opting out of whatever you think I'm going to do."

"I forget sometimes, with how jaded and avoidant you are, that you are very new. You'll find out everything eventually, and in a few centuries you'll thank me for not spoiling it for you." He sounded pleased.

Ugh. "You're not getting it. I don't want things that can be spoiled. I just want simple."

"I'll send over some people who will stay outside and won't be seen. You won't even know they're there." He was wrapping up the conversation and the call.

"I appreciate the help and will pay in credits for their time. This is not a favor. Just to be clear."

"Of course not."

She hung up the phone with a flick of her wrist. She still felt hopeful. Lighter, a little bit.

She dismissed the notification.