MonroeByJahx
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Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Four. Responsibilities.
🕑 Added 2021-09-13 12:20:35 +0000 UTCLieutenant Colonel Leonard Smith, United States Marine Corps, Retired, had lived a long, full life. He'd joined the Marines straight out of High School, and the Corps had become his touchstone. He'd come of age fighting in one war, then bucked the system to become an officer, leading men in another. He'd married a wonderful woman, and they'd had two great children. His wife had passed several years ago, leaving him to wait out his time, enjoying his grandchildren when they came to visit, and puttering around in his garage, although that had become tiring as of late.
When a Corporal had knocked at his door, accompanied by a bombshell blonde, he hadn't known what to expect. He'd thought perhaps they wanted him to come to speak at a school, although those requests had become fewer and fewer over the years. He would never have guessed that they were planning on blasting him with some sort of miracle light that rolled back the clock.
"What the hell just happened?" Leonard demanded.
"Sir, you just received a new lease on life," Corporal Waters replied. "The short version of a very long story is that two years ago, a man working on a particle accelerator was blown into an alternate dimension, where magic is very real."
"Magic?" Leonard asked in disbelief as he stood up and grabbed the back of his chair out of reflex. But the wave of dizziness that normally accompanied that action failed to manifest.
"Magic," the Corporal confirmed, "or dark matter-energy, the guy who figured things out can explain it, but the upshot is that the other dimension has leaked into ours, and the latent energy is going to wake up, and when it does, it's going to cause a cataclysm of death and destruction."
Leonard looked at the younger man warily. He shook his head picked up his cane, turning towards the kitchen when he paused. He'd only noticed because he knew what to expect from the mirror in the living room, and he hadn't seen it.
He walked forward slowly, his hand reaching up to touch his cheek in disbelief. He looked like a kid again. The wrinkles, liver spots, sagging jowls, it was all gone, as if the clock had been turned back to when he was still a Lance Corporal.
He looked down at the cane in his other hand, realizing he hadn't felt any pain from his hip as he'd crossed the floor.
"There are just over a thousand Marines over in that other dimension now, all of us combat-wounded veterans who didn't come home whole," the Corporal continued, "there's a plan in place to save everyone, but we sorely lack a command structure."
Leonard turned around and inspected his guests with sharp eyes, marveling at the vision of his youth. The Corporal wasn't lying to him. He believed what he was saying. The woman, now that he could see her clearly was beyond beautiful. The models and actresses on TV couldn't hold a candle to her.
"Alright, let's say I believe you, or at least I believe that you believe," Leonard said slowly, "where does she come in?"
"My name is Annisa, and I hail from Thayland, the land the aforementioned man was thrust into," she smiled, and Leonard tried to remember how to breathe. "I'm a Priestess of Vi'Radia, who holds the seven gods of light close together with His brilliance," she stood and gracefully stepped away from the couch. "Perhaps it would be best if you witnessed my true form," she mused before golden light shimmered across her skin and reality flexed.
Leonard stepped back with a blink, then stared in awe. The woman before him was now over seven feet tall. Her previously perfect skin and flowing tresses now emitted a golden glow, as did her massive feathery wings, which nearly brushed his twelve-foot ceiling. He could sense a feeling of calm and peace emanating from her, washing over him like a wave.
"May the light of Vi'Radia ever show you the way," she spoke, her voice the stuff of dreams, musical in a way he'd never imagined. "You've lived a life of service and kindness, and Vi'Radia is well pleased with you," the Angel whispered, "know that you owe neither Him nor I, anything for this gift, for it is freely given. You may live your life as you wish, but also know that there are men you would call brothers who need the experience and leadership you could provide."
~----------------~
Bob portaled out of his inventory and onto the roof of the Adventurers Guild in Glacier Valley. He had decided to eat dinner with Monroe, enjoy a little playtime with his buddy, and then he'd taken a brief nap.
Things were moving more rapidly than he could have hoped for. Neatly ordered rows of Quanset huts gleamed in the fading light, testament to what hundreds of men working together could accomplish. He pushed mana into the familiar pattern of a Flight spell and drifted down to the ground, where he was immediately greeted by a familiar voice.
"Bob!" Nora shouted happily, running over to him. "You really should tell people where to find you," she said happily, "There's like, a dozen different people looking for you."
Bob looked around warily but didn't see anyone else rushing towards him.
"It's nice to see you," Bob replied questioningly, "but what are you doing here?"
Nora huffed out an angry breath. "My father guilted me into becoming the liaison between Glacier Valley and the King," she grumbled, "so I'm here to collect the King's tax each month and make sure you aren't doing anything terrible."
She looked up at him suspiciously, her eyes theatrically squinted under her irrepressible curls. "You aren't doing anything awful, are you?"
"I don't think so," Bob hesitated, "not that I know of anyway. Didn't you split from your family?"
"I did," Nora sighed, "but Father was stuck between a tide and a wave. Thidwell would come to blows with any of the other senior members of our house, and I'm too junior for him to take seriously, so when the King tasked our house to take charge of Glacier Valley, he thought that with you having shepherded me, you'd be amiable, or at least not antagonistic."
Bob shrugged, "It doesn't really matter to me who delivers the taxes to the King," he offered, "although I don't have any idea how frequently I'm supposed to hand them over, Huron just said it was ten percent of the crystals gathered."
"Every month," Nora offered, "and ten percent is right."
She looked over at the newly erected buildings and whispered, "You sure brought a lot of people over."
"Just getting started," Bob grumbled, "so are you planning to stay here, or just portal over to collect? Can you even portal over?"
"Not yet," she shook her head, "but Eddi and his friends are portaling over here, like, all the time, so it wouldn't be hard to do that, but Father said it wouldn't look good to the King if I didn't remain here." She sighed dramatically, looking up at him with eyes widened, "Which means you have to drop the Dungeon down to the sixteenth floor so that my team and I don't fall too far behind," she half pleaded.
"I'm working on that bit," Bob slid Monroe out of his inventory and onto his Makres, clicking the sleeping floofer into place. "Although you'll probably be disappointed, I'm not building anything fancy or special, and any crystals gained get turned over to me directly."
"You're taking all the crystals?" Nora seemed stunned.
"I am," Bob confirmed, "I'll pass crystals back to people for leveling purposes as the Dungeon goes deeper and they need to level up for the next floor," he admitted, "but most of the crystals people gather are going to be dumped into building out more Dungeons and facilities to support the people coming over from my world."
"That's crazy," she shook her head.
"I know it seems counter-intuitive," Bob gestured to the Marines standing watch, "but these men aren't Adventurers; they are Marines, and they all came here with the sole purpose of saving our people." Bob shook his head, "They aren't trying to level up or tier up, they're here to help, and they'll go into the Dungeon for eight hours a day, every day, for the next year and a half. I won't say they'll do it without complaint," he smiled, "but they won't stop."
He looked down at her. "I'll make sure your group has a spot in the Dungeon," he promised, "but I can't treat you any differently than I treat them."
Mike's eyes narrowed as he spotted Bob. He was talking to a teenage girl, voices low and serious. Her body language was friendly, maybe even flirty, while Bob's was familiar and... patient, maybe. He almost seemed fatherly, as odd as that seemed.
"Bob," he called out as he strode over. The man had developed the habit of disappearing, just falling into a portal and not coming back, which was frustrating.
"Mike," Bob nodded, "I'd like to introduce you to Nora; she'll be collecting the King's taxes from us."
Mike blinked and looked the girl over, reassessing her. If she was eighteen, he'd clean his lower receiver with his tongue. Still, they had reincarnation here.
"Ma'am," Mike nodded to her. "Bob, you disappeared before I could ask who you wanted to be sent down to the new floor," he said, "we have our fire teams, but I know you were pushing for the people who took the Path of the Endless Swarm to have priority, but we don't have enough of them with their summons capped to fill it."
"We definitely want them to have priority," Bob replied, "as they have the most potential when it comes to gathering crystals quickly and efficiently," he mused.
"Round out the Endless Swarm guys who are capped with others who've taken the path but aren't capped yet," Bob decided, "as long as their summons are level ten or over, they'll be fine, but make certain they aren't permitted to level up until their summon skill is capped," Bob warned.
"Will do," Mike replied, "although you'll need to activate the Gateway so we can get down there."
"Fuck," Bob grumbled. He'd put up the Gateway on the seventh floor, but he'd forgotten that he needed to set the Gateway in the Tavern to allow for access. It was an inherent property of the Gateways that they defaulted to requiring a token to activate, but as the creator, he could override that; he just had to spend the few minutes doing so.
"Yeah, Fuck," Mike growled. "Which reminds me," he pulled a radio out of a pocket on his vest, "please keep this on you and turned on at all times," Mike instructed as he handed it to him, "I'll grab you a few spare batteries and show you where we're charging them." Mike shook his head, "There are too many things going on that require your input or approval for you to be unreachable for hours at a time."
Bob inspected the device. It looked like a very small walkie-talkie. He pushed the button on the side. "Testing," he said into it.
Mike tapped his ear. "It works; I tested it before I gave it to you," he sighed, "we don't have a command channel, so you'll be on the open operational channel. We try to keep the chatter to a minimum, so just listen for anyone calling for you."
"Your call sign is Golf Victor Actual," Mike advised, "and mine is Foxtrot Tango Alpha One. It appears that everyone has decided I'm your primary point of contact, so expect me to be the person reaching out to you, but don't ignore anyone else who might need you."
Bob looked down at the radio. It felt heavier. "What's the range on this thing?" he asked.
"The whole valley," Mike replied, "although if you head up into the mountains, you're going to lose reception quickly, so make sure you get reception wherever it is that you disappear to."
He grimaced. He'd need a new place where he could take a breather.
"So I'll let the group of summoners who are capped keep the crystals they need to level up then?" Mike asked.
Bob nodded absentmindedly, "Yeah, I'll go sort out the Gateway now," he muttered. "Where does this put us for total occupancy?"
Mike pulled out a tablet from his vest, which Bob was beginning to suspect he might have had spatially expanded, and consulted it.
"Moving everyone down a floor is going to leave the first floor empty and the second floor at fifty percent capacity," Mike replied after tapping the screen a few times.
"How are we looking at bringing in another wave of Marines?" Bob asked with a grimace, contemplating another regeneration marathon.
"We've gotten quite a few more replied, and thanks to those Endless kids, we have a lot more mobility," Mike said, eyes still on the tablet. "Looks like we have another five hundred, although we'll need to head to North Carolina to get them."
"We don't need you for that, though," Mike assured him, "we can get them here, but we will need you to cast regenerate."
"When?" Bob asked.
"Figure the day after tomorrow, likely around eighteen hundred," Mike offered, "downside to civilian life is you start to lose any sense of punctuality," he finished with a grin as he stuffed his tablet away.
~---------------~
"Well," Amanda smiled up at Dave, "it looks like we've broken a hundred."
Dave leaned over and peered at her tablet. "They were all able to make it this weekend?" He asked in surprise.
"We basically offered them an all-expenses-paid vacation," Amanda replied, "of course, they worked it out."
"True," Dave agreed, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
"We'll wine them and dine them," Amanda began, before Dave interrupted, "Beer and Bar-B-Que, you mean."
"Yes," she glared up at him, "that, and then we'll show them the bags and our wolves and offer them magic."
"I can't imagine not jumping at the opportunity," Dave admitted, "although killing monsters has taken a little bit of adjustment."
Amanda shook her head, "You and the rest of the boys toughened up really quickly when the marines showed up," she laughed, "can't have your manliness challenged."
"Like you were any better," Dave teased, "you were so eager to show off Vera."
Amanda snuggled back against him. "She's adorable, and she's an unstoppable killing machine," she murmured, tucking away her tablet.
"So what did you think about what the marines said about leveling up to five and taking their paths?" Dave asked.
"That bit about the perfect high?" Amanda shook her head, "I don't know; Bob didn't say anything about it."
"Yeah," Dave said, "but, and I don't want to be the amateur psychologist here, but just how fucked up is Bob, really?" Dave squeezed her gently. "He's a good man, but..." he shook his head.
"That's a good question," Amanda murmured.
Comments
Richard Reid
Fixed, thanks!
Andre Washington
^_^
Andrew
Thank you!
K Hilliard
>Mike pulled out a table from his vest, which Bob was beginning to suspect he might have had spatially expanded, and consulted it. As hilarious as this imagery is, context suggests he actually pulled out a tablet and this is a typo.
Mr. Bigglesworth
Treachery! GUARDS! GUAAAAAAAARDS!
Morton
Got to be first! Mr. Bigglesworth Fast on the draw again.
