Changeling

War, technology, ethics, religions, all those had experienced deep changes as mankind dodged out of the way of extinction, but politics sure as fuck had stayed the same. Nestra turned half her brain off while politicians on either side of Threshold’s complicated spectrum rehashed the same sophistries and half-truths their ilk had done for centuries. Members of the ruling party defended their results in preparation for the imminent vote while the opposition called for change. Both sides were polite, witty, but also obviously biased in the way they fundamentally couldn’t give the other side any real recognition, nor admit to any failure on their own part.

At least they were witty.

Since the politicians knew their audience well, the speeches lasted only half an hour total during which an ample supply of mana-infused alcohol was distributed. Since her parents had already authorized the transfer, Nestra didn’t have to participate in the round of donations for a charity working on rehabilitating places like District Fifteen before they could turn into District Fifteen. An entrée was provided, then the guests were invited to go out and mingle. Nestra eyed the canape tables with a terrible longing, but Sylvie had invited her for a friendly spar and Nestra would never back from a proper challenge.

The second floor was a large open space seeded with monumental supporting pillars, still respecting the building’s Art Deco influence but the furnishings did not. Temporary arenas covered the center while refreshments and an ‘armory’ occupied the entire back. The weapons themselves were gaudy foam weapons, most of them oversized. Nestra had to hold back a tired chuckle when she spotted large zweihanders painted to resemble old-school pens. There were fish maces and halberds that were just sticks tipped with an open hand. The humorous shapes were on purpose. Although it was still early, a firespark in a crimson cocktail dress was thwarting three freshly awakened scions with elegance. The largest arena was clearly for team events, though it stood empty for now. Nestra followed Sylvie to a master of ceremony dressed in cartoonishly bright renaissance clothes, as in, with a massive feathered hat and plastic cuirass. He addressed them as they approached.

“Have you come to test your mettle in glorious combat?” he roared.

“We have,” Sylvie replied with no less emphasis.

The man quickly walked them through the process before heading out to handle further new arrivals. Nestra’s group had to register to reserve an arena, a process she guessed also allowed the organizers to verify in advance if two contestants happen to really want to kill each other. Next was the weapon selection. They were all free of use and there were far too many for the contestants so there was a lot of choice. Nestra almost went for an axe until Sylvie intervened.

“Noooo I want to watch the blade boss at work!”

“How dare you unleash that old nickname upon me by surprise?” Nestra complained, but she relented. All three of them went to an empty square. All of those were high and surrounded by ropes for safety. Nestra showed off a little by clearing a pillar in a single jump, landing lightly on the arena.

Her husband gave Nestra an awkward nod of recognition. Nestra felt it was up to her to open up a bit, so she aimed her sword at them and declared in her coldest voice.

“I challenge you… to a triel.”

“That is not a word. Anyway, I’m going first!”

Sylvie had picked a needle thin fencing foil which, incidentally, had been made to look like an umbrella. She was atrociously bad with it. Nestra gently pushed and teased her a bit though she only poked her twice in five minutes. Eventually, Sylvie screamed.

“Husband! Help!”

Larry was a much better combatant than his wife, though that wasn’t saying much. He was clearly training regularly. His style was very rigid and close to what was usually taught during service to people who would not be expected to become raiders: more defensive and aimed for survival. He was very solid for a civilian but obviously several classes under her in terms of ability. As a game, she guided the fight so he acted as the anchor for his wife’s more reckless attacks while Nestra circled them. She added flourishes and stylistic movements that were popular in pre-Incursion choreographed fencing, as in, they were useless in actual combat but otherwise looked spectacular. The fight was vicious and with few breaks. The two were clearly having a ton of fun.

By then, they’d gathered a following. Nestra’s performance was not the fastest or flashiest one around but it was clear she was trying to make it look good, and raiders who knew their shit could tell. Her two friends went down after a while since Larry was starting to sweat and that was usually a sign to slow down when wearing formal wear. Nestra was challenged as she left the arena. The culprit was a dusky fellow with brown mana and a comically oversized judge gavel. She accepted after a short discussion.

“Not the place I expected to be networking but I’ll take it,” Nestra told Sylvie.

“Uh, actually, I think he’s flirting with you.”

Nestra replayed the entire conversation in her mind.

“Oh. Well. Let me at least give him face.”

“You have fun Nes, we’ll have a bit of wine.”

The unknown gleam proved to be an expert combatant with an ‘in your face’ style that matched Nestra’s own. She stabbed him many times but he did land a few blows, mostly due to the difference in styles: he was clearly used to wearing heavy armor and assumed her strike would not have penetrated. She was pretty sure it would have, but they’d never know for sure in that arena. They stopped after a while so Nestra could have a drink. Mostly, it was just an excuse to take a break. She did get a nice virtual business card on her visor.

“Ah, you must be one of old Hector’s children!” an old raider told her with some excitement. He was a B-class, definitely someone important.

Nestra ended up talking quite a bit, as well as exchanging more contact information with peers and old powerhouses. She was surprised to find out a few people had heard of the Little People League. What wasn’t surprising was that a few people already did charity raiding though the formula varied. A White Shield striker told her he gave all the profits of one in seven worlds, which was fairly generous considering he was a strong C-class. She was finally challenged again by a warm, familiar voice.

“Miss Palladian. I am very pleased to see you in good health.”

Nestra had orbited towards the weapons rack to drop off her sword. She turned towards the tall and smiling form of Doctor Mazingwe. He was smiling with a little tilt to his mouth he only showed shortly before throwing knives at her.

“Doctor. Glad to see you too.”

“I was thinking about a brief test of your motor skills. My dear. Will you entertain my request?”

“Are you sure about this, old man?” she replied mockingly.

Mazinwge’s smile remained the same but his hand, which had gone for a spear, suddenly grabbed a large hammer instead.

Nestra sighed.

***

Mazingwe proved much more gentle than she would have expected, though he did smash her face once. Even without actively using mana, C-class and B-class gleams simply thought and reacted faster by default, and that was before battle senses and experience came into play. He easily maneuvered around her but she could tell, from experience, that he was focusing on spacing. Spacing was absolutely fundamental for spear wielders and Mazingwe was a master at it, probably on par with her dad. It was hard to say which would win when they were both so much better than her on a physical level. He kindly excused himself after the brief lesson.

“May I have the next dance?” a voice saide from below.

It was the firespark she’d spotted earlier. Nestra used this moment to study her surroundings. There was now a large group of people watching her, most of them guild officers. Younger scions preferred their own duels. She noticed, far in the corner, a man in a green robe standing next to the familiar figure of Eunhye Jade, the woman who had tried to undercut their bidding. The man had a sharp and cruel composure, and the people around him acted as a disk of followers over the black hole of his strength. B-class, and not a pushover. The red woman was C-class and didn’t seem aware of the attention. Nestra invited her in with a nod.

The red woman jumped over the ropes with incandescent grace where Nestra had preferred cold elegance. She immediately pulled out a curved sword, the same size as Nestra’s. Hers was designed as a banana.

“En garde!”

They fought. The C-class gleam was amazing, all telegraphed, gracious strikes that came with twirls of the dress and a generous timing to parry or block. Nestra replied in kind. To her opponent’s superior reflexes, she offered fast series of predictable strikes that came in obvious patterns but would appear, to a less trained eye, as ceaseless barrages of attacks. The dance between them turned into a grandiose show for the entertainment of those who watched. It was because the woman was so skilled that Nestra could indulge. The simulated battle lasted for a long time, with dramatic reversals such as the red lady jumping on a rope for a dramatic plunge after Nestra pretended to be knocked down by a mighty slash. A bit tired, she was ready to call for a break when her opponent offered a very obvious opening that she gladly took. The red woman dramatically collapsed into the rope before sliding on the ground under a thunderous applause. Nestra was only too happy to help her opponent up.

At this point, she had to channel mana just to keep herself cool or she’d been a sweaty mess. They shook hands when an announcer informed the guests that the dinner would be served shortly, which meant trickling back down to the tables.

“Amazing performance. How come I’ve never seen you before?” the woman asked with the flush smile of the genuinely happy.

“I was coreless but I got better.”

“What? Wait… I remember reading the news a couple of weeks ago. So it was you! Riel am I glad they fixed you up. It would have been a terrible waste otherwise. My name’s Christina Zhen with Gidung Guild.”

She must be one of Hong Wang’s old allies. Nestra fixed her smile when she saw the woman’s own collapse.

“Oh hey I’ve heard of you.”

“I can imagine.”

There was a lot of subtext in that simple sentence. Nestra didn’t raise the topic again, preferring questions about fencing styles. Satisfied, the two of them exchanged contact information before bidding each other farewell. There were a lot of people making their way down. Even with gleam speed, it was a slow process. A brief message exchange with Sylvie confirmed they were already downstairs.

It was nice to see her again after all this time, Nestra thought, and then she realized that against all odds, she was having fun. And that was surprising. Surprising, and also a trap.

Gleam life was very much the cozy, golden prison she’d never expected from the outside. In here, it was warm. You got to shake hands with Important People, discuss things with lifelong acquaintances, all within the exquisite walls of the city’s landmarks. The food was made by chefs. Although she wouldn’t indulge for training reasons, the alcohol was mana rich, and its fragrance, pleasant. Stylish clothes, beautiful people, expensive augmentations and mighty gleams marked the elite of post-Incursion mankind on display. Nestra could, right now, slam the door over her old life and only keep the best bits and she would never, ever have to return to Fifteen and all her old haunts. She could forget the cravings and the blood dripping from her chest after being betrayed by Bard, the sight of Shinoda’s lifeless body. She could forget the homeless cut to pieces in the underground, the scent of spicy cloned meat skewers, the raucous calls of the underground markets. She could live her entire life in portal worlds and fancy places, carried between each by an AI-driven taxi and she would never. Need. To remember..

Scary how easy it could be. The raider world was designed like this: apex of human power and wealth on one end, gruesome bloodbaths on the other, and in the middle? Politics. Politics, and unresolved trauma. The rest of the city could rule itself on the side.

That made the Little People League that much more important to Nestra. It was the definitive proof that she wasn’t anesthetized quite yet.

She was one of the last to return to their seats. A salmon poke had already been served as an appetizer. Nestra helped herself to some water before turning her attention back to the platform where a man was announcing the arrival of the mayor himself. He had probably been in the cocktail lounge on the third floor. Too important for Nestra’s status just yet.

It was weird seeing Mayor Kim in the flesh. He was pretty much a staple of the city by that point, a gray-haired, stunningly handsome man who had climbed the ranks of the budding Union Party more than twenty years before, leading it to a landslide victory. He had ruled ever since then. His augs were minimal and mostly mind related, like Stibbs, but there were rumors he had access to the best anti-aging treatments money couldn't buy. Nestra watched him move with winning confidence as he greeted various people on his way to the center of the stage. He had this indefatigable, savvy vibe that proved he drew energy from being around people rather than being exhausted by it, a concept that was entirely alien to Nestra. She also expected more delay when he climbed on the podium, but she was wrong.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my friends and constituents. Thank you so much for your presence and generosity tonight. Your contributions will help change the lives of the people in the outer districts thanks to our Second Chance program, a necessity in these times of great change. You can expect a full report of the spendings and results within the next quarter. And now for the piece de resistance. I know your ears are filled and your stomachs are empty so I shall be brief…”

There were a few polite chuckles. Nestra smiled. She was all for shortening speeches to hasten food.

“It is my greatest pleasure and privilege to make a special announcement tonight. As some of you may know, we have collaborated closely with the Universities of Dallas and MIT in recent months. I can now tell you that this project has borne fruit.”

Nestra nodded to herself. She was glad that pasting two of their representatives on her carpet hadn’t harmed the city’s diplomacy too much. Hey, maybe it even helped!

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Starting next month, work will begin on Threshold’s very own… space program!”

“What?” Nestra blurted.

***

It would have been extremely embarrassing were it not for all the B-class people commenting at high speed before her lips could even move. Looks of shock and confusion spread across the massive room. A space program? Those were only reserved to nations that had survived the Incursion, and then only for military and telecom purposes. Everyone had an idea of the cost of such projects. It was either vanity, in which case announcing this right before the election was suicidal, or the mayor had a plan and this was a nice stunt. The old fox didn’t disappoint.

“Within the next two years, we shall send our very own manatech satellites skyward to help monitor the Pacific Ocean. I would like to salute Doctors Usanagi and Park for spearheading this ambitious plan alongside Dallas’ own Firmament of the Sky Guild. The ultimate goal will be to deploy a string of surveillance spots alongside the old sea trade routes, one capable of remote mana-perception thanks to revolutionary new advances in detection technology. Yes, space used to be ours and it is high time to reclaim it, but we also once tamed the sea and its placid surface will be sailed again. Threshold will lead the efforts. This I promise you.”

Nestra’s mind processed what he’d just said. Right now, container shipping didn’t exist across oceans because it was simply too dangerous. Even the ships sent to the Manila or Osaka fortresses were expensive, heavily defended leviathans. If Mayor Kim was confident he could reopen sea trade routes, and if the technology to do so belonged to Threshold and Threshold alone, the political and economical benefits of trade monopoly between two continents would be tremendous. Threshold was already powerful for a single city state. That would turn it into a superpower. Within ten to twenty years. Assuming everything worked. And assuming the megacorps invested in infrastructure and ship building.

Meh, that last part would happen. They were all too greedy.

“We will begin the significant task of developing this program by clearing more open land. As such, I will now also announce the city’s first territorial expansion since its inception. The coast alongside Bleak Cove and Highway 3 will be cleared. I will be counting on your assistance for this titanic endeavor. That’s it, folks! I know you’re all eager to learn more, but I will not be taking any questions right now. Or else the food will grow cold! We will issue an official notice in… twenty minutes, or so. My office and I will be holding relevant meetings over the next few days, so hang tight, details are coming. And now, bon appetit!”

The crowd went wild. As for Nestra, she left early with most junior guild members. This was out of her league.

***

Nestra drove her roadster to the Palladian compound the next morning, this time on full autopilot. The news stations were in a complete uproar after yesterday’s surprise reveal. Apparently, it wasn’t even that secret but the government had fingers in so many pies that it was difficult to find which would be impactful from the sheer volume. As expected, the opposition accused the ruling party of a pre-election publicity stunt on the taxpayer’s dime. The Union Party had prepared a trap: they had the receipts to show that the opposition had blocked them every step of the way, so really they only had themselves to blame.

Nestra shook her head. Threshold was nominally a democracy. Riel, even gleams and baseline votes counted the same. In reality though, most people, including Nestra, were too interested in keeping the corpos at bay by empowering a stable government instead. Talented individuals naturally gravitated towards the party in power while the disgruntled and the rebels — and they were quite a few — joined the opposition. This led to them being more against the ruling party than having a cohesive platform.

“Looks like we’re going for another round…”

She opened a random popular video. It showed a heated exchange on a morning talk show. The first to talk was a portly man in a suit with a strangely earnest expression.

“The cost alone represents over four billion credits. Four billion credits, and should the project be delayed, or should it fail, then this is money we will never get back. This level of commitment should never have been taken without the express approval of the public. It should have been one of the main stakes of this election. Instead, Mayor Kim is using taxpayer funds for the most expensive advertisement ever done, saddling the next administration with the costs… and the risks!”

A scholar in a white suit replied. He didn’t have the other man’s stage presence, but his calm and measured tone helped carry his message.

“First, Mayor Kim was elected on a program to improve international trade: this is the culmination of this program. Second, the cost is high, but the benefits are even higher. My colleagues and I have extreme confidence in the project's success. Third, all this spending will be directly invested in Threshold’s industry and infrastructure. It is not frivolous spending, as you seem to imply, but a major investment that will be used for other purposes. The satellites we will manufacture shall be used to monitor kaiju and tide activities over the entirety of Asia, perhaps even farther.”

Nestra nodded. She could see the scholar’s point. Even the few satellites Threshold was using right now were antique technology launched with the help of the Shenzhen fortress. People would pay a lot of money for advanced warning. Or recon data. It would be a major asset for mankind. She checked the comments to gauge the public reaction. That was a naive mistake as it took only seven replies for the first ‘kill yourself’ to appear. Instead of going on, Nestra pulled the city communique. Apparently, there was going to be some sort of bidding war for the clearing offer. She kept reading until the gravel under her car’s tires announced that she had arrived at her family home. She made a beeline for the kitchen where her people would normally be. Most of the family was raiding though. That left exactly two people sitting and eating.

One of them was a completely exhausted Helena nursing a cup of coffee.

“Really?” Nestra asked. “Mom and Dad are gone for two days and you’re taking stimulants?”

“Not you tooooo. It’s decaf, alright? DECAF!”

“Still has caffeine in it,” Nestra reproached.

“I’m sixteen! And a gleam!”

“Why don’t you tell your sister why you need those stimulants with your… busy schedule?” the second person asked with an unctuous voice and ice in his false smile.

Ulysses had all the warmth of a dozing cobra.

Helena groaned.

“Our dear sister has binged her favorite romance until 3AM,” he explained.

“On a school night?” Nestra replied, scandalized.

“Riel dammit I regret it, alright? I was just so caught up.”

“That is not wired at all, young lady,” Nestra said.

“Very limp,” Ulysses added for the tag team knockout.

“AUGH!”

Helena downed what was left of her java before leaving in a huff. Nestra noticed she grimaced from the bitter taste. She’d taken it black, too proud to go for a latte or something.

Nestra turned to Ulysses. Her brother was looking at her with a look of… consideration. It was very weird.

“What?”

“You’re in the gleam tabloids.”

He shook a datasheet under her nose. It showed one of those embarrassing newspage focused on raider and actor gossip. The headline was pretty catchy.

“Redeemed heiress displays her fencing skills at the Guild Association charity ball!”

A short looped video showed the highlights of Nestra’s fights with Mazingwe and the red dress lady. They finally showed a particularly spectacular flourish she’d inflicted upon her friend Sylvie and her husband.

“I didn’t know you followed that trash,” Nestra remarked.

“Of course I don’t. We have a monitoring AI notify us every time a member of the family’s brought up in the rags. Anyway, you are making us look good. Lia’s family is changing our marriage contract to our advantage in recognition of the fact we’re not an evolutionary dead end after all.”

“Hey!”

He shrugged.

“Just telling it like it is. Anyway, well done. Now save the gala debrief for the return of our august genitors. I assume you’ve read the communique?”

“I, uh, I wasn’t done.”

He paused for a moment. His next sentence came in a very neutral tone.

“You’re a scion of House Palladian now. You need to prioritize the information that is relevant to our interests. City envoys will meet with medium sized guilds this afternoon at the Beacon. In the absence of our parents, and since Helena is sixteen and going to school, you will accompany me.”

“We’re going to make a bid then?”

Ulysses crossed and uncrossed his fingers, searching for words again. Nestra wasn’t sure if he was hostile and trying to tune it down, or he genuinely thought she was a complete dumbass. It was hard to tell.

“The city’s not paying money for the clearing. And it’s going to be a difficult operation.”

“How will it be difficult?”

“High portal concentration and unmanaged breaches means we’re almost at tide levels of monster population, not to mention, this many active teams will attract a lot of attention. The surface area is also pretty large. We’re talking about fifty square kilometers.”

“What? Really?”

“Since the city is not paying us money per square kilometer, Nestra, then it doesn’t matter that they ask for a larger region. The goal is to protect the workers by removing anything within smelling distance, aye?”

“And the reward?”

“Can you guess?” Ulysses asked with some impatience.

“Portal rights around the new section?”

He nodded.

“Precisely. In and around, as you said. We’re talking maybe one, one and a half billion credits worth of spoils per year.”

That was just raid harvest estimates. Processing the materials would bring another layer of value.

“The guilds are going to tear each other apart over the contracts.”

“We’re the guilds,” Ulysses reminded her.

He sighed. Nestra wasn’t willing to engage because it looked to her like he was making an effort to be cordial.

“We need to make an offer. It won’t be much and the competition is going to be stiff but it’s an all hands on deck situation. You probably won’t be participating, unfortunately. Your cadre is still too fresh.”

“My… cadre?”

“The Little People League? Valerian, Helena’s classmates? One convict you just signed on without consulting us?”

“They’re not a cadre. They’re my mates.”

“And how, exactly, do you think the house’s old guard came to be? They’re not just staying for the good pay.”

Nestra frowned. It bothered her on some fundamental level but she wasn’t sure how to articulate it.

“Talented raiders gather other talented raiders to form teams that will carry them to the height of B-class. So it has always been, so it will always be. You don’t just fight side by side because they’re good. You do it because you trust them, because they are, as you mentioned, your ‘mates’. Now enough of this. I need to assess what resources we have available.”

“Nes! Nestra!” a cry came from upstairs.

It was uncanny how Ulysses’ gunmetal eyes followed Helena through the walls by hearing alone. He still wasn’t as good as the parents at pretending to be a normal human.

“We got a hit on the cameras! The crazy cat lady case!”

“And with this, I bid you a good day. Be ready by 1PM,” Ulysses said before disappearing.

“I gotta go to school. Can’t miss the math test. Can you handle it? Gah, I wish I could come with you.” Helena said with great excitement.

“I’ll record it. So what sort of monster is this?”

Nestra checked the footage.

“Oh.”

***

Caleb was a man with a plan. With drive. Threshold was a rich and giving whore to those who knew how to please her. Even starting from the bottom. It was just a question of time and effort. He was willing to do what the weak and meek couldn’t, and so he would rise. It was the truth of the city. It was the truth of the world. Even if he had to get his hands dirty.

He checked his silenced rifle one last time. It was a shitty printed thing but it was enough. The dumpster smelled of piss. That, too, was an ordeal he would overcome. The most ambitious people had gone through worse on their path to success. He would kill this cat, and the next, until the crazy bitch went up and left, and then he’d buy her out on the cheap. Fuck, he was probably doing her and the entire city a favor. Earth animals were awakening, the news had said. It was just a question of time before the cats grew feral. He was saving the woman though she’d never know it.

Ten minutes passed. Caleb patiently kept his eyes forward. The cats always, always came this way. One of them would, in any case. God, he hoped the woman would crack before he had to kill off the entire herd. Another five minutes passed while he did breathing exercises. Patience, patience. All great men had patience.

Movement. He rested the gun on the dumpster. One of the cats was trotting towards him. He adjusted his sight. The cat might jump up at any time and for how cheap it was, the gun was precise, with little recoil. Distance wasn’t an issue. He aimed his sight. It was a white cat, aesthetically pleasing in a plush sort of way. Shame to see it go to waste since some families apparently paid up to 500 creds for the critter, but that was business. Costs of opportunities and all that.

Once the man was satisfied, he pulled the trigger. The sharp whip sound reverberated throughout the alley, which was normal given the ratty silencer he was using, The ping was not.

The cat jumped, startled. It looked unharmed.

There was a long blade in front of his barrel, coming at an angle in front of the gun’s muzzle. Perplexed, Caleb looked up, and up, to a blonde head popping up from the nearest roof. An arm held the sword that had deflected the bullet. It was a major feat of strength that proved the person was a gleam, if the irises hadn’t told him already. Blue with sparks so ice and probably electricity. He’d trained to recognize those.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Why are you shooting a cat?”

A chill crawled up his back. That wasn’t planned. Not planned at all.

“I don’t know what —”

“You shot at the cat. Answer me.”

No time to hesitate.

“Pest control.”

“You consider cats a pest?”

“Of course they are. Threshold actively combats wild animals!.”

“Nope. Threshold only treats wild dogs as pests. There is no reward for cats because they are very rare.”

That wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. The notion of turning his gun against her to avoid witnesses didn’t last long. This was a gleam with awakened affinities, and that meant she was probably dangerously strong.

“You must know you’re shooting a pet.”

“How would I?” he retorted.

“All of Mavis’ cats have collars. So you must have known.”

She was trying to trick him.

“No they don’t. You lie. And now, unless you intend to do something illegal, I am going to leave.”

“You are not leaving.”

She tapped her visor.

“I just needed a record of you admitting you know who Mavis is, and that you are familiar with her cats. Much obliged, by the way.”

She jumped down. She was wearing everyday clothes far too light for the winter weather, which made her detached, icy tone that much more unnerving. She was smaller than him but he was not confident about his chances. His fingers tightened around the gun. Why was he being harassed like that? Fucking gleams with their control over every damn thing.

The woman grabbed something in her jeans pocket. It was a police ID. His eyes widened.

“You are under arrest on suspicion of animal cruelty and property damage, the first of which is a felony. You have the right to legal advice…”

The woman listed his rights just like in the damn vids. The man couldn’t believe his eyes, even when she forcefully removed the gun from his shaking fingers. With gloved hands. The next moment, he was in manacles.

“You can’t do that! The badge says Special Affairs! It means you are going after users!”

But she didn’t listen. Only after she was dutifully done listing the rights did she answer his protests.

“It doesn’t matter what branch I belong to, or even if I’m currently active. You were caught red-handed, on camera. You’re coming with me. Will you resist?”

The man assessed his chances. He was sure he could explain the situation. Going to prison just because of cats was a ridiculous prospect. Actually, he was sure a good lawyer would get him out. It was far too late to attempt force anyway.

“I will comply.”

Something in the cold woman’s mouth expressed disappointment.

***

Nestra appreciated the reminder that not all monsters came from portals. It felt a little unfair that she would be harassed at her home by people calling her a demon while her worst sins were illegal raiding, tax evasion, and gluttony. In the meantime, psychopaths like this guy got a free pass to murder pets. Utter bullshit. She checked the time. It was barely 9:30.

That was going to be another long day.