The Dossiers of Asset 108 Collection

by J M Guillen

  “You slipped off and didn’t even tell Danvers where you were going!” Baxter grumbled. “So I’m in my workshop, fiddling with my flying automatons.”

  “I wasn’t disparaging!” I waved a hand at Alicia. “I was looking for information.”

  “By telling him you thought the barbaric natives might be eating children?”

  “It was a strategy!”

  “We aren’t cannibals!”

  “Children,” Rehl chuckled and leaned back. “None of these things will stop Liz from being a steaming corpse here in a moment.” He turned to me. “What do you do, Miss Lawson?”

  “Well…” I drew the word out and glanced across the table at Rehl. “Remember last year when we played these characters? When Alicia ran? Well, you may remember that Miss Lawson got left behind. But when the Masked Brava came out of that old mine—”

  “Our characters all know Miss Lawson is the Masked Brava!” Baxter ran both of his hands through his sandy hair. “Your secret identity sucks. We’re not stupid, Liz.”

  “Well,” I continued, ignoring the crazed-looking Baxter, “when Rehl here said he wanted to run A Moon of Blood tonight, I showed him my character sheet. You all know I let ’Licia keep my sheets so I don’t lose them while rambling across the country.”

  “Riiiight.” Rehl’s eyebrow cocked suspiciously.

  “Well, I still have the canvas sack that the Masked Brava came out of that mine with.” I fixed him with a grin. “She trusted me with it, until she was needed again.”

  “Ohhh.” Alicia titled her head as realization washed over her freckled face.

  “So since you looked over my sheet, Rehl, you can’t say you didn’t know I was carrying two sticks of dynamite.”

  “Oh, man!” Baxter sank into his chair and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses.

  “Right.” Rehl cleared his throat and searched for something to say. “The thing is—”

  “I throw the sack into the hearth.” I raised one raven brow. “Before I become a steaming corpse, I mean. What do I roll?”

  Rehl groaned, fixed me with an annoyed eye, and reached for a rulebook. “Baxter, where do I find blast radius?”

  “Page seventy-eight.” He shook his head, ruefully. “There are blast templates in the back.”

  “You know we hear that ruckus,” Alicia crowed and glanced from Rehl to me. “And there’s no way that Nightwolf would believe Miss Lawson’s innocent when odd midnight explosions start.”

  “Hey, that’s true!” Baxter grinned up at Rehl. “The moment I hear that shit, I’m leaving my workshop.”

  “Fine, but wait a sec.” Rehl scanned the book, and his eyes narrowed as he read. “Let me find the best way to screw over Miss Lawson here.”

  “Take your time.” I shot him a triumphant grin.

  The blast was incredible. After I made a series of miraculous checks—for once my dice didn’t hate me—Miss Lawson was merely buried alive.

  Of course, this was only the beginning.

  “‘The Master!’ Rector Scarbrough screams as he runs into the square, his face aglow from the fire.” Rehl gave Baxter a smug little smile. “‘It’s because of them! The strangers have brought this upon us!’”

  “Damn it, Liz!” Alicia dug through her spell lists and pointedly did not look at me.

  Beneath the table, Rehl passed me a note.

  I read it and fought to keep a straight face. The next three rounds did not go well for Baxter and Alicia.

  “Okay, Liz. It’s your turn.”

  “Her turn? Miss Lawson’s lying beneath a building’s worth of rubble,” Baxter grumbled.

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Obviously, I’d like to make some rolls later to survive but not until we’re safe. Fortunately for us all—”

  “No!” Baxter was emphatic as he turned from me to Rehl. “You aren’t going to let her?”

  “Fortunately for us all,” I continued, enunciating clearly, “the Masked Brava heard the commotion and stepped from the shadows, bullwhip in hand.”

  Alicia muttered something beneath her breath. I didn’t make it out but apparently Rehl did.

  “It’s your own fault,” he crooned, poking her in the shoulder. “You let her make the damn character.”

  “The Masked Brava whips the closest vampyre.” I scooped up some dice. “In the face. She wants to whip the monster in the face.”

  “Of course she does.” Rehl chuckled. “Roll a called shot.”

  As often happened, the presence of the mysterious Masked Brava was a turning point for our small party. Only a few rounds more saw us heroically lay waste to the entire town.

  “I don’t know why I ever thought this would be a challenge.” Rehl hung his bald head and chuckled darkly.

  “Pizza?” Baxter looked around the table. “It’d be a shame if Liz came to town, and we didn’t indulge.”

  “I dunno.” Rehl sighed. “I need to find another job. I almost couldn’t afford the con.”

  “I’ll grab your pizza, you big ape.” Alicia elbowed him. “You can pay me back after you get the next job you’ll only hold onto for a couple weeks.”

  “That’s not fair,” Rehl whined. “You get to just go to school. I’m telling you, working retail is awful. I should just go back into the Army.”

  “We can get pizza in a few.” I frowned. “I’m gonna call my dad. He should have popped by before now.”

  “You know, I didn’t see his booth on the con map.” Rehl sounded almost apologetic. “I wanted to ask about special ordering some stuff.”

  “I assumed you knew he wasn’t here,” Alicia added. “I’d looked forward to playing in this year’s game.”

  “Me too.” Rehl grinned. “Your dad’s games are worth waiting on, Liz.”

  “His snow elves?” Baxter shook his head. “He just takes a game too far. I don’t need a dossier to play a single character.”

  “Aiden’s games are better than anything you put on,” Alicia harped.

  “Well, yeah,” Baxter conceded, “but most modules don’t force the players to learn a fictional language. It’s too much.”

  “Slieteri is a cool language,” Rehl jumped in. “The man’s a craftsman, and you know it.”

  “I’m not saying it wasn’t cool,” Baxter clarified. “I think I knew the language almost as well as Liz did.”

  “None of which matters,” I grumbled, “as it seems my dad might be missing.”

  For years now, Dad had attended CONsortium as a vendor, selling comics and whatever roleplaying games he thought were likely to be hot. The truth was that his shop, a little place called Knucklebones, would never do much more than break even, but it wasn’t about the money for my father.

  No, my dad was a gamer from back when Gygax printed incomprehensible systems that required a slide rule to understand. He loved all manner of geekery, and during the times I spent with him, he made certain I indulged as well. For several years, he had run an ongoing campaign that featured some of his most devious puzzles, riddles, and codes.

  ‘Fanatical’ described his devotion pretty well.

  Every year since I was a teen, we had met at CONsortium. Mom had driven me a few times, but usually I had ridden my Valkyrie.

  He was always here. Always.

  And, as it happened, hanging with my dad for a few days was part of my brilliant plan. If he wasn’t around, I might be on the run a bit longer than anticipated.

  “Um, just so you know,” Baxter gingerly touched my shoulder, “your dad gave me a call about three weeks ago. Said he was setting up some computers in the shop and wondered if I could stop by and lend a hand.”

  “Yeah? Did he seem okay when you went by?”

  “He wasn’t there. I tried two other times. Never picked up the phone, either.”

  “I talked to him…” Had it been last week? No. “I left him a message last week. I’ve been on a bit of a road trip, and my Nokia doesn’t have the best coverage.”

  Now that I thought of it, it had b
een weeks since I’d actually spoken with him. At that time, he’d been thrilled about the con and planned to meet up with me here.

  Other than that letter I’d dropped him the night I left, I’d been a little busy hoping to stay ahead of Lorne’s thug. I really hadn’t spoken with my father at all.

  “I need to call him.” I reached for my bag on the floor. “I’m sure something weird came up and he’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “He never misses the con.” Baxter frowned.

  “I don’t have—” I furrowed my brow as I patted my pockets. “Damn it. I left my phone in my room.”

  “As you should have.” Rehl spoke with a regal air. “We were running a game for you peasants and demand your attention.”

  “Whatever, highness.” I scooped up my dice and pushed my character sheet across the table to Alicia. “I’ll take my stuff upstairs and call Dad. From there we’ll see about getting Baxter some pizza.”

  “I like a lady with a plan.” Baxter grinned.

  “Maybe we hit the anime room later?” Alicia’s voice lilted hopefully. “New line up this year.”

  “They’re going to show the new Blake Runner later on.” Baxter waggled his eyebrows comically, squarely at me.

  “Ugh.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe you watch that stuff.”

  “Just get back soon. Meantime, we’ll decide what we’re going to do next, Miss Lawson.” Rehl tipped an imaginary hat.

  “Sounds good to me.” I grabbed my bag. “I’ll take this upstairs, make my call, then find you guys.”

  “What, no dynamite?” Rehl sounded confused. “I thought all your plans involved dynamite.”

  “I’m not exactly the Masked Brava.” I stuck my tongue out at him as I walked away. “My plans never require explosions.”

  Yet as I walked away from my friends, none of whom had a single clue about my secret life, I couldn’t help but smile.

  Maybe I had more in common with the Masked Brava than I cared to admit.

  Power Gamer

  No one picked up.

  “What the hell, Dad?” I muttered as I punched the number to his apartment. I’d already tried the shop but only gotten Knucklebones’ answering machine.

  I glanced at the clock in my room. Cheerily, it blazed 4:41 in red numerals.

  “He should totally be there,” I muttered. “Or here.”

  A shrill three-note tone blared through my phone, followed by a robotic voice that told me my dad’s number was disconnected or no longer in service. If I thought I had reached the recording in error—

  “Dammit!” I punched the red button, disconnecting the call.

  My worry-hamster spun its wheel at full tilt.

  “Elizabeth, I feel some discussion is in order,” an unknown baritone asserted from behind me. “I hope you agree.”

  “Um.” I froze, my thumb still pressing the button.

  Slowly, I turned.

  A young man stood between me and the door, heroically handsome and outfitted in a black suit. He nodded once in greeting.

  I instantly recognized him from the sedan.

  No, not him. It.

  That’s not a person. Oh God! I took a single step backward, my breath tight in my chest. Ten thousand awful stories spun through my mind as I realized what it must be.

  A Silent Gentleman.

  I locked that door! My heart thrummed in my chest as I tried to make sense of it all. The door remained shut behind it.

  “How—?” It doesn’t matter how it got in! I shook my head furiously and backed up another step, hoping to get my iron throwing knives within reach.

  Where were they?

  “Elizabeth, honey.” It held up its hands and flashed a disarmingly charming smile. It looked almost too human. “Relax. I just want to talk to you. There’s no need for any drama.”

  “Liz,” I spat, almost reflexively. “And appearing in a lady’s hotel room seems pretty dramatic to me.” One of them, it’s one of them…

  An odd buzz of electronic interference stabbed straight through my head for a moment. My vision blurred, as if something had somehow shorted out my brain.

  “Because if I wanted to do you harm, we wouldn’t be talking, now would we?” That smile again.

  “I don’t think we have anything to discuss.” By reflex, I relaxed into my center where an eternity of untamed tempest lurked, a maelstrom of furious Wind. I sipped at that ocean through my straw. As I touched it with the edge of my mind, a gust from nowhere tickled through the creature’s hair, picking up strength.

  “You don’t?” It cleared its throat.

  “No.” I did my best to meet the creature’s gaze but failed. Instead, I focused on shaping the Wind. Without blinking, I called another of Simon’s Empyrean Seals to mind. This one was a little more violent than my wall of Wind, but things might get dicey. I didn’t know if I’d get an opportunity, but…

  It might be the only weapon I had.

  The creature gave the tiniest shake of its head. It slid one hand into a pocket. “I disagree.”

  WHUM.

  Around us, the world trembled, as if reality itself shook at the foundations. Thunder rumbled in the room, a vibrating growl through existence itself.

  “What?” I looked around wildly. In my mind, the Wind died instantly. I felt something crack somewhere inside my skull, and my will slipped through my fingers like sand.

  My eyes went wide. What the hell…?

  Somehow, the not-so-silent-Gentleman had Counterspelled me!

  “What was that noise?” My voice sounded impossibly soft. I cocked my head at the figure and desperately clung to my composure.

  I couldn’t find that echo of Wind inside myself. Not a whisper.

  “Don’t waste your time,” it said, with its too-perfect smile. “I had an idea of what I was walking into here, Liz.”

  “What do you mean?” Frantic, I clawed in my mind, trying to find the place where the Wind sang within me. It slipped just out of reach and…

  And I couldn’t grasp it.

  My heart pounded in my chest. For the first time in several years, I felt helpless.

  The buzz grew louder for a moment; the world flickered with electronic interference, and the air crackled with static.

  “I don’t understand.” I shook my head, as if I could clear out the electronic noise.

  I caught sight of the clock.

  It read 4:41. Still.

  “You don’t have to understand.”

  I blinked and the clock read 4:43.

  “That’s…” I glanced up at the figure, who regarded me silently. “That’s impossible.”

  “I had hoped we could have a pleasant discussion.” The creature’s eyes seemed to stare through me; flickery static burned at the edge of my mind.

  “The hell you say!” Panicked, I moved backward and stumbled into the night table, as another rush of static blurred through my mind. I leaned against the wall and glared at the uncanny thing that had appeared in my bedroom.

  Then, it moved.

  I don’t mean to imply that it took a step toward me or even that it blurred, inhumanly fast. No, it simply stood in front of me one second and several steps away the next, wrapped in an aura of staticy flickers. I didn’t even have time to register what I saw before the sharp buzz washed over me again, and reality scintillated like a forty-year-old newsreel.

  “What do you want?” I inwardly cringed at how small my wail sounded, how weak I must seem.

  Liz stood up, some part of my brain yammered in narration. She stood the hell up and took care of her business.

  “I’ve told you what I want, Liz.” Its lips quirked up as it took a step toward me. “That being said, it’s important we come to an understanding.”

  “What understanding?” I spat, trying to remain fierce.

  “You must accept that I’m going to get what I want.”

  Blurred buzzes crackled in my mind, and my vision trembled. I gasped and slid down the wall.

 
; “That’s a fact, whether you like it or not.”

  Static burst in my mind, like a ball of burning electronic flares and I fell, the darkness of the world collapsing upon me.

  2

  August 22, 1991- Six Years Ago

  Syracuse, New York

  A lifetime ago, I learned everything I needed to know about the Silent Gentlemen.

  “They took twelve people, good people. Ones I knew personally.” Simon hobbled as we walked across the building’s roof, twilight settling in the sky. His graying hair hung beneath his now-familiar battered cowboy hat, making him look like a homeless rancher wandering the hidden paths of Syracuse.

  “They?” We’d walked in silence so long I didn’t remember who he meant.

  “Twelve clever people.” He raised an eyebrow. ‘Clever’ was Simon’s personal euphemism for people who, due to their uncanny capabilities, shaped reality in some small way.

  People like me.

  “The Silent Gentlemen took them all, and nary one of ’em a fool. These were people who knew to watch themselves.” He fixed me with an eye of sterling blue.

  “You keep saying ‘took.’” I scuffed my foot against the roof surface. “Don’t you mean ‘killed?’”

  “No,” he went on without explaining. “Micah Blacke was a little older ’n you when I met him. Clever, much as you are, only his particular affinity lay with animals.”

  “He could… talk to them?” I couldn’t help a small smile. “Like have familiars?” That sounded fun.

  “I don’t know what that is,” Simon grumbled. “But he could make ’em do what he needed or call animals that were nearby. He had a true affection for the wilderness. Good guy. Good heart.”

  “But the Silent Gentlemen took him.”

  “We were in Wyoming, not far from my old ranch, in Yellowstone. We rambled in the park one day, back before I needed this.” He waved his cane. “We’d gone hiking; Micah saw a small herd of buffalo walking toward a car-strewn main road. Without a second thought, he called the animals back.”

  “Sounds smart. Keep the animals and the people safe.”

  Simon nodded. “Thing is we were in the middle of nowhere, right? I mean, there was a road, but Yellowstone is huge. It takes more than an hour’s drive just to really get into it.”