Chapter Fourteen - Baby, don’t hurt me

I had expected the goblins to be hard to find, but as we neared the memorial, we heard a commotion behind some bushes. We sped there and carefully spied through them so as not to stumble blindly into whatever was going on.

On the other side, we saw four little green guys with rusty knives. But they were not alone; there was also a human. A young woman in her late teens was surrounded and was defending herself with a sword. Remarkably, she was as good as naked. A couple of pieces still clung to her body, some held on by blood from one of her many yet shallow wounds, but most littered the area in the form of small pieces.

I wasn’t sure what had done that to her clothes, but it was clear she was tiring as the hits from the goblins drained her. I wanted to jump into the fray to help her, but Livia’s hand held me back. I turned to her, ready to question that when she whispered. “Transform, and don’t let Samantha see your human form. Don’t tell her our names. Now go, I’ll go ranged.”

Samantha? She knew her? Figured. Why would the five thousand people per shard be random? There was a good chance everyone she knew was in here with us. Yet now was not the time to discuss that. I dropped my glamour and ran towards the goblins.

One of them just tried to stab Samantha in the ass with a rusty knife, so I grabbed it with my telekinesis and pulled. The goblin held on, jabbering in a language that didn’t sound human. I pulled harder, and the knife took flight—with the goblin still attached.

Why not? I stopped and braced myself, timing a hit with my claws just as the creature came into range. Flying through the air, it had no chance of dodging. My claws hit it straight in the belly, sinking in deep. It cried like a pig, but it didn’t stop there. I grabbed whatever was inside it and ripped hard. The belly couldn’t withstand the force, and a slew of bloody innards shot towards me.

The goblin tried to follow, albeit not voluntarily, so I jabbed at his neck with my other hand. It hit my fingertips straight on after being shredded by my claws. There was some kind of notification I ignored, probably a death message, as the goblin most certainly was dead. I looked back up just in time to see another one being flattened against a tree trunk by Livia’s magic. It looked like the same thing she had hit me in the face with.

The other two stepped away from Samantha and started running towards me, yodelling in their weird language. But ignoring a woman with a sword was a bad idea, even if she had been on the losing side just seconds earlier. One of the goblins learnt that the hard way when his head separated from its neck.

The other one I used as a test subject for the conjecture that when a squishy goblin and a clawy, thick-skinned demon ran at each other, both at full speed, the goblin would go pop. I was nearly right, but I had overestimated the goblin’s sturdiness. It didn’t go as much “pop” as it went “misty cloud of blood”.

I skittered to a halt on the bloody ground a short step before Samantha and righted myself. She, in turn, did three things. She dropped her weapon, emptied her bladder, and fainted. Then she dropped to the ground. Ok, again. She, in turn, did four things… Yada, yada, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

“That went quick,” I said to the empty air and opened my log. Time froze while I looked over the notifications. They had timestamps, which told me there had only been 4.8 seconds between the time I dropped my glamour and the final notification of the fight:

🖹

You have defeated Samantha O’Brian (police faction, human faction), player level 1. Extra points are awarded for using non-lethal means. You gain 30 XP. Do you want to bind the defeated player? (1) Yes, (2) No.

Yes, that was quick.

🖹

You have bound Samantha O’Brian, player level 1, to you. Please select a bond: (1) Slave bond, (2) goon bond, (3) forced faction conversion (police to criminal and human to monster ally), (4) debt bond.

Hey, that’s not what I meant! I tried to get out of the menu to talk it over with Livia, but the open selection held me in. That was inconvenient, as I had no further information on those bond types, and Livia was way better at guessing those than I was.

Sure, slave was a no-go for me—not even Livia would have been able to talk me into that one—but the others all looked viable. The main question was what the faction change would do. Or was it? I hadn’t even intended to bind her. We’d have talked and then gone our own ways, she none the wiser about my identity. So if that faction thing was a dud, nothing would be lost. So I selected it, and time resumed.

I felt Livia behind me, hiding in the bushes. She still had a minute or two on her succubus form, assuming she had also transformed, but I understood how that must feel like not enough. I contemplated walking over to her to talk things through, but Samantha already stirred.

She opened her eyes, looked up at me, and said, “Boss?” What?

“What? Why are you my boss? How are you my boss? How do I know…”

“Stand up,” I said in a calm voice. She did so, then looked at me with wide eyes.

“Who…what are you? Is that mind control?”

I shook my head while grinning wildly, showing my razor-sharp teeth. Then, I sent her a group invite. “Accept it.” She did so instantaneously. Faction lesson number one: Forced faction conversion puts you into a subservient position that’s enforced by the system. Scary. Useful but scary.

“Kneel and close your eyes,” I ordered her, then waved Livia over.

Samantha obeyed without delay, even though she did protest. Livia took a moment longer.

“Look, boss,” I said once she was close enough so I didn’t need to shout. “I got you an engagement present. Say hello, present.”

“Hello,” Samantha said. “What the fuck is going on? How are you—”

“Quiet.” Her mouth shut with an audible click.

“I second that question,” Livia whispered into my ear.

“Ok, you both. Listen and learn. Samantha, when you fainted, the system awarded me a victory over you. I hadn’t planned on fighting you, but it seems our factions are at war.” Livia nodded strongly here. “And because of that, the system asked me to bind you. I don’t need a sex slave, so I select a faction conversion. Welcome to the criminal underworld, Samantha. Sorry that the system enforces your loyalty to your new faction, but we did save your life.” I looked at Livia, and she nodded. “You may open your eyes, stand up and speak again.”

Samantha did so, her eyes growing even bigger than when she had seen me as they fell on Livia. “You!”

“Hi, Sam.”

“My father will—”

“Your father won’t do a thing because you won’t tell him a word about this. You’re now one of MY girls.”

“Yes, boss.” Good. The system applied a proper faction hierarchy.

“Please don’t make me…”

“Make you what?”

“Work for you, as a, you know, …”

“Whore, Sam. The word is whore. And no, I’ve got enough girls who do that voluntarily, like my fiancée here,” she pointed at me, and I nodded, “I don’t need you for that. What I do need is monster hunters. I’d prefer competent ones,” she waved her arms over the scene, “but I guess I have to take whatever I can get.”

Livia was truly frightening when she was in godfather mode. Even I got chills from that little speech, and I had prompted it.

“Fine. I’d do that anyway.”

“Good. Then how about a little deal? I promise never to put you in any job that requires you to have sex with a man and to never pitch you against your family. In return, you act as if you joined my faction voluntarily.” She extended her hand, but not for a handshake. Sam looked conflicted, then grabbed it and kissed Livia’s ring. Our engagement ring.

🖹

A new player, Samantha O’Brian, wants to join your faction (criminal faction) and has pledged her loyalty by System oath. Accept or deny? (0/2 faction leaders have responded)

While I stared at the notification, it blinked.

🖹

A new player, Samantha O’Brian, wants to join your faction (criminal faction) and has pledged her loyalty by System oath. Accept or deny? (1/2 faction leaders have responded, 1 accept, 0 deny)

I added my acceptance. System factions didn’t necessarily align perfectly with real groups, did they?

Time resumed, and I saw Samantha relaxing visibly, so I reapplied my glamour so as not to look as fear-inducing. “Welcome, Samantha,” I said and offered my bloody hand. Samantha hesitated a moment, but after looking at her own nearly as bloody hand, she took it. “Jane.”—“Sam.”

“Sam, meet Jane, my fiance. Jane, meet Sam, my ex-girlfriend and the police chief’s daughter,” Livia added her own introduction. “Sam, I swear I did not know about my parents’ business nor who your dad is when we hooked up. Jane, sorry for lying to you by calling Sam a fling. In my defence, we broke up after six weeks.”

“It’s ok. I don’t see a real difference between flings and boyfriends or girlfriends. And I had my fair share of those, too.” A very small share, but Sam didn’t need to know the details.

“Wait! Liv cheated on you with me?”

“Nope. She told me all about it in great detail. You got that cute scar on your left outer labia from a botched attempt to give yourself a piercing, if I remember correctly?”

“Inner, but yes. Liv, you told her about that?”

Livia shrugged. “I tell Jane everything.”

“Bullshit,” I said with a grin. “You still haven’t been truthful about how rich you really are.”

“We, darling. How rich we are.”

I could have hugged her right there, but she was sparkling clean, and I was dripping with goblin blood. That reminded me, “Um, any idea how we get home without causing a panic?” I pointed at Sam and myself.

“Easy,” Livia said and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll have some of my guys pick us up here.”

“Goons, Liv. The word is goons…”

🙚⚜🙘

Half an hour later, we were back home in the parking garage. I wanted to walk to the stairs, but Livia pulled me in the other direction. “Gym shower’s bigger,” she said. That was right, but it also was a big open…so what? I wouldn’t complain.

“Um, Sam. You’re not underage, are you?” I asked, just in case. If I ever wrote this down, unlikely as that was, I didn’t want to get into hot water with some overeager censor.

“I’m twenty, but thank you.”

“You do look younger than the last time I saw you, to be completely honest,” Livia chimed in. “Some skill or ability?”

“Could be. When the system came to me in that weird dream, I begged it to become something cool, like an elf. When I woke up to the character screen, I had quarter-elf listed as race. I guess you got that devil the same way, Jane?”

“First, I didn’t beg. I selected it from a list. Second, it’s no devil; it’s a Chinese mystical spirit. Thirdly, it’s how I look when I’m not shapechanged.”

“I’m the one with the demon form. But I also didn’t beg, I bargained,” Livia added. We had reached the gym and were alone, so she demonstrated her sexy soul-sucker form. Samantha blanched and nearly fainted again. Did she get used to it, or was I really so much more gruesome? I looked almost human, unlike Livia…

“Bargained? What did you give up for it?”

“Sam, that’s not how Livia works. When she bargains, she does so from a position of power. And please, just look if you like these babies. I’m looking at yours, so you trying to be ‘proper’ is just weird.” I had been undressing for the shower while we talked. My clothes had survived the short fight well, very unlike Samantha’s. I had mostly been teasing her because I found it funny how she looked everywhere but at me after she realised what I was doing, but something in Livia’s body language when I said that clued me into one thing: That breakup hadn’t been out of lack of desire from Livia.

I took a closer look at Samantha then and noticed something: She was almost exactly my height. And not just that, but I was sure my clothes would fit her just fine. She had a well-toned body, showing signs of regular but not excessive training. Maybe halfway between what I had our first year and now? Her skin was the same colour as mine and her hair, also kept relatively short, was just a shade lighter than mine. Put us into a poorly lit room, and I’m sure people would confuse us.

The shower could wait a moment; there was a story to be coaxed out. “So, anyway, how did you two hook up?” Samantha blushed, and Livia avoided my gaze. Jackpot. Now, how to stir that pot? It had been a couple of years, three or four, I think?

“Let me guess, Livia was high as pie, called you Jane and got into your panties before you even noticed she was addressing you?” That should do it; talking about something embarrassing is way easier when you can use it to deny something even more embarrassing.

Samantha’s face tried to match the colour of the blood she had all over her body, but to her credit, she actually managed to say something. “That, um, sums it up pretty well.”

“To my defence,” Livia added, “it was dark, and Sam ‘objected’ by kissing me back.”

“I may have had one drink too many…”

Holy Moly. I had not expected to hit the nail anywhere near the head. “I’m so jelly,” I said. “The one time I ran into a Livia-lookalike, I ended up with a bloody nose.” That was purely made up. I was way too chicken to try something like that, even if I had genuinely thought I ran into the real one somewhere in London.

They said nothing, so I kept digging. “So, I guess you broke up when you realised Livia was using you as a Jane doll?”

“I wish. Then I’d never learned her name or fallen… anyway. No, that was my dad.” She had fallen for her? Shit, I felt bad for her.

“How so?”

“I’d left my phone on the kitchen table at home when I went to the bathroom. Liv called, and Dad saw the name on the screen. He went ballistic and turned the kitchen into an interrogation room, then grilled me for an hour to find out what kinds of connections I had with the city’s most prolific crime family. I think he really thought they’d turned me into a mole or maybe blackmailed me. That left me shaken, but I crossed my fingers when promising him never to talk to Liv ever again. But then, when I confronted her, she denied everything. That led to a pretty dirty breakup scene.”

“Dirty? You gave me a black eye and ran out with the words, ‘You dirty whore will rot in jail, I’ll make sure of that and if it’s the last thing I do,’ if I remember correctly.”

“Sounds about right. But you did deserve that for lying to me.”

“She didn’t,” I jumped to her defence. “At that point, Livia really had no idea.”

“Really?” Samantha sounded stunned.

“Really. I should have been born with blue eyes, so oblivious was I.”

“Sorry, I called you a whore. About the jail part, I think you earned twice over in the meantime?”

I laughed out loud, shattering the moment. Sam’s gaze shot at me, and she looked ready to give me a black eye, too, so I explained myself. “No, no, it’s just… You just took back the one thing that wasn’t an insult but a fact. Livia’s been whoring on the side since she learnt what a vag can be used for.”

“Not quite,” Livia said with a wide smile. “I figured that out at eight, I think, when my parents forgot a porn tape in the living room VCR. I didn’t start that young. Technically I started at twelve, if touching a boy in exchange for him showing me his counts? Exchange of goods?”

“If that does, you can count me a whore, too,” Samantha said.

“Whore, get into the shower. I want to get cleaned up already,” I said, trying to get the vision of little girl Livia out of my head. I had seen the family photo album, and she’d looked like a very innocent, cute little angel at that age. That image shall not be tainted!

Samantha complied, now visibly more relaxed than before. Mission accomplished. As she walked by me, I got a better look at her wounds. They looked well-scabbed over, so I asked, “You got some healing ability?”

“Minor fast healing, yes. Good thing, too, or I would have bled out.” She held up her arm and turned it to show me her wrist. A finger-wide scab line ran right across her pulse.

“Ouch. Let’s hope that heals without a scar, or people will think you’re a suicide survivor,” I remarked. If that was ‘minor’, what could my average fast healing do? Patch me up from a knife to the heart?

In the shower, I turned on the hot water, and a rainfall of soothing goodness rewarded me. We had to huddle together a bit closer than strangers would, as there was only one, albeit large, showerhead. I noticed someone had replaced the decade-old bar of soap with a fresh bottle of liquid shower wash, so I grabbed it and squirted a good portion into my hands. Without thinking—Livia had been the only person I’d ever taken a shower with—I grabbed Samantha’s tits and began lathering them up.

Samantha tried to step away from my unprompted attack, but the wall kept her from getting away. Weird, her tits even felt like my own, I mused before realising how inappropriate grabbing them had been.

“Hold that thought,” Livia shouted over the noise of water hitting my back, “I’ll be right there.” She needn’t have bothered as it took her less than two more seconds to undress and get into the shower with us.

What ensued was very close to a rule 3 violation—we completely missed the ‘talking’ part of that rule. What saved our trust in each other was that we only skirted the line of what we would consider actual sex in that nobody got to an orgasm. It takes a bit more work for women to go that far.

I was impressed with Samantha. Had I met an old girlfriend and then been roped into sexy time by her fiancée, I would have freaked out. At least, that’s what I imagined. None of my non-Livia partners ever got to a stage where I could imagine them in that role. But Samantha didn’t just take it in stride; after a couple of minutes, she leaned into it fully, even returning the favour and cleaning some of my hard-to-reach places, like all three sets of lips.