Eric’s gregarious smile immediately faded.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, man. You totally shut down. What was… shit, you’re still not over me dating your sister?”

  “I’m not saying shit, am I? I’m happy you two were living your best lives.”

  Eliot gave Eric a look. “While you were power lifting with the dwarven princess.”

  Eric’s cheeks flushed. “Nothing ever happened, it was a long time ago, and she moved on. And I sure as fuck wasn’t expecting to see her or you or find out that her sweet sexy physique is because she’s a dwarf. I thought she was Mediterranean! A mixed mutt like me. Which she is. Only she’s half dwarf, not half elf. So it’s not like I’m exactly prepared for this conversation!”

  “Sure, Eric. Whatever. Let’s get you kitted up.”

  Eric paused, giving Eliot a thoughtful look. “I don’t suppose our dwarven friends have anything in the way of cannon balls?”

  This earned a blink. “Seriously?”

  Eric nodded. “Dead serious. The heavier, the better.”

  Eliot just stared at him.

  Eric flushed.

  One of the nearby dwarves turned to him. “Did you and the princess really…”

  “Not answering that.”

  This earned a few ribald chuckles. One of the other dwarves, still scratching his hairy chest before putting on a padded aketon, snorted. “Sure kid, actually we do have cannons and cannon balls both. Less funded department than our steam mecha, but they’re pretty cost-effective, according to my brother. Why, you got some artillery class? A magical cannon you can summon at will?”

  One of the other dwarves frowned. “I seem to recall one of the Terran Contenders having something like that. Can’t quite remember where I heard it, though. Maybe it was in that fever dream I had?”

  This earned a laugh. “You and you’re fucking dreams, Gont!”

  Eric grinned. “Actually, what I have is a magic soul-bound sling.”

  The closest band of dwarves clinking and jostling abruptly stopped, all of them staring at him. “You have a sling that can hurtle cannon balls?”

  “Not going to do it in here,” Eric quickly said. “But out there on the surface when I’m at full strength? Yes, as a matter of fact, it can.”

  Eliot furrowed his brow, then shrugged. “Sure, Eric. We can get you that. How about armaments?”

  Eric laughed. “No worries there, buddy. Once I’m on the surface and the steam isn’t suppressing so many things like my extra storage space, which clearly wasn’t dwarven-made, I’ll kit up in fresh gear, no problem. Besides, this eighteenth century getup is actually solid steel underneath the pretty fabric.”

  Eliot grinned. “And I didn’t even say anything, because I’m so used to seeing you and Elonia dressed up in period attire.”

  Eric smirked. “That’s fair.”

  “Come on, Eric. Let me show you were the long guns are kept. One more surprise for Song or any other asshole that actually makes it to the first bulwark.”

  Eric nodded, the pair leaving the armory with a few farewell waves to the dwarves happy to laugh away the tension with jokes and jests.

  “I’m glad they’re not stuck up about…”

  “Relationships?”

  Eric winced. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  Eliot nodded. “Well, it’s not like you implied anything except that you and Melissa might have been dating in the before-times. They’re pretty cool about past bullshit. Most of those with combat classes recall living life in New York, pre-apocalypse. The unspoken rule here is that whatever happened in the past stay in the past. Clean slate. Whether you dated the king’s daughter, or if you treated Orlin like a boss or friend, and not like your sworn liege-lord.”

  He shrugged. “All is forgiven. Even past romantic relationships. King Orlin’s wife, you might have noticed, is very much a dwarf. And Melissa’s mom was very much a human. And we don’t say a damned thing. So, yeah. You and Melissa might have… you know. But that’s seen as being no more real than a vivid dream. In this life, she’s been as chaste as most dwarven woman are before marriage. Even if she was surprised to see you. We all were! You get me?”

  Eric nodded. “Sure. I get it.”

  Eliot gave him a pointed look. “So, the past is just that. The past. You know?”

  Eric grinned. “Works for me!”

  “So, are we cool?”

  Eric sighed. “Yeah, Eliot. We’re cool.”

  This earned a relieved smile. “Glad to hear it. So...Elonia. Is she, well… okay?”

  Eric, not clenching his jaw at all, nodded. “She is. Doing quite well, actually.”

  Eliot gave a relieved nod. “Good. I’m glad. After that gang of assholes pulled a gun on me and told me to back the fuck off... I knew they had to have been talking about Elonia, and that I was in way over my head, but I still felt bad… real bad that I hadn’t tried to do more to protect her.”

  Eric jolted to a stop in the thankfully near empty corridor. “Wait, wait! Fuck, who pulled a gun on you?”

  Eliot blinked. “You really don’t know?”

  Eric slowly shook his head. “No, Eliot. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  Eliot flashed a bitter smile. “A tiny part of me thought they must have been from you. So I just...fuck, I just laid low like a coward, hating myself for a few days. I didn’t think we got along that bad, even though I knew you weren’t exactly fond of me hooking up with… you know. Then I thought maybe it was her dealer.” He swallowed. “I tried to tell your mom that I was worried about her without getting into specifics, but she just blew me off, said that her daughter was an adult and could make her own choices.”

  Eric winced, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

  Eliot sighed. “Yeah. My parents were furious when I told them that someone had… bothered me. They demanded that Commissioner Smith cut down on crime and of course the man promised he’d take care of any problems for us. But we live in the nicest part of the city already so that was almost redundant, even there was always a friendly cop saying hi to me or my mom when we took our weekend walks in the park. And we always donated big to Smith’s associations but… yeah. By the time I got the courage to just knock on the door and confront Elonia, you guys had already moved to a different condo.”

  Eric grit his jaw, forced to accept an uncomfortable truth. “You kept her balanced. She always wanted you to see her at her best. Once you were out of her life…” Eric shook his head. “Fuck. I’ll bet I know who it was.”

  “Who.”

  Eric clenched his fists. “Harvey Harveson. Grade-A asshole.”

  Eliot blinked. “Wait. Seriously? That was his name? Fuck, it sounds so familiar! Wait, he was her agent, right? Didn’t he die during one of her premiers?”

  Eric nodded. “Yes. Yes he did.”

  “Shit, what happened to him?”

  Eric gave his almost friend a hard smile. “He drugged my sister, then tried to kidnap her and sell her to some billionaire, right on the rooftop helicopter pad. Then he somehow fell off the building. I hear his body exploded on impact. And he screamed the whole way down.”

  Eliot stared at him. “No shit.”

  Eric smirked. “Fucking tragedy. Come on. Let’s get that cannon ball.”

  “Did you…”

  “Damn right I did.”

  Eliot whistled. “And I know how hard you can punch! And you say you never trained. You were always such a badass.”

  “Ha. I was so lost in my own stupid angst that I failed to rescue Eliona until the last fucking second. I should have known Harvey was trouble when he kept trying to coax her to ditch you, a boyfriend that actually cared about her, and head to all the coolest parties where she would make all sorts of connections.” Eric gave an angry shake of his head. “I should have been there for her, especially after you just upped and disappeared.”

  “I didn’t just up and disappear, Eric. Those fuckers grabbed my phone! They threatened every contact I had!”

  “I get it. But she thought you had ghosted her. She was depressed and vulnerable and it was so damned easy for Harvey to... And I didn’t do shit when she needed me. I was too busy brooding about how I’d change my life when I grew up, instead of seizing the moment, right then and there.”

  Eliot snorted as they entered a vast chamber filled with well-polished artillery. “Looks to me like you sorted yourself out well enough, Eric. Because you’re a Contender, like me, and you had the balls to stand up and play hardball, negotiating with Orlin like I wouldn’t dare to in a million years!” He then grinned, waving his hand at the pair of eager-looking dwarves presiding over a score of shiny looking 12-pounder cannons, in addition to larger models in back.

  “Is King Orlin ready to put our glorious cannons to good use?” The closest asked.

  The second dwarf nodded eagerly. “He’ll be thrilled to see how well we can use them in conjunction with our glorious steam mecha! We just need a few Cannoneer or Artillerest classers… or even professionals! Yes, we’re quite sure we’ve found the path for a Dwarven Home Defender Profession!”

  “Sorry, boys,” Eliot said with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t speak for King Orlin’s future plans… but I can say that he gave us permission to kit ourselves as we see fit, and my boy Eric here would absolutely love to take a look at your cannon balls!”

  This earned a pair of scowls from rather bushy brows, both older dwarves tugging their beards in frustration.

  “His Grace still doesn’t want to test our cannon in glorious battle?”

  Eliot slowly shook his head. “But as far as cavern defense for today’s battle goes… I think he wants you setting up at the first bulwark of the Northeast corridor.”

  The smaller dwarf’s eyes widened comically. “No one has told us about this!”

  The second nodded. “We must prepare at once.”

  “Definitely. But before you do… can we take a look at your cannon balls?”

  This earned a huff from the closest, beard rustling with his sigh. “You may examine our artillery shells… yes.” He gave Eric a jaded look. “Is there a size you prefer, brave adventurer?”

  Eric smirked, tasting the biting sarcasm. “If you have ammo that would work with my sling, that would be great.”

  The closest frowned. “Our creations are far too heavy for any sling. Unless you have some sort of Advanced or Adept class specialized for it?”

  Eric just smiled. “Twenty-four pound cannon balls would be absolutely epic.” He then gazed at the pair intently. “Unless elite professionals like yourselves might have something even heavier?”

  The pair exchanged oddly guilty looks. “Surely you don’t think we were engaged in any unauthorized experiments using tungsten alloys in an effort to show that our artillery is capable of denting even Song’s absurd power armor? Outrageous!”

  “Offensive! Leave at once!”

  Eric’s stare hardened. “I’ve cleared Harriman Territory. There will be no more docile dinosaur herds.”

  The pair of engineers froze at those words, gazing at Eric like he had just crushed an innocent puppy.

  “Eric, you were serious? Fuck, man, you’re going to fuck with half the adventuring corps in the city! Not to mention Orlin’s ability to train up the lower leveled classers that we’re trying to recruit!”

  Eric sighed. “And I replaced it with regenerating mines! Mines which I will be giving Orlin contract rights to extract a hell of a lot of extremely precious ores for his own objectives, so long as finished products intended for off-world markets are sold through Blue Corp. And these ores, my friend, aren’t trapped as oxides and sulfides. They’re in a pristine state, made malleable as clay through magic. A malleability that will last until you leave the territory and that ore suddenly has the flexibility, resilience, and tensile strength that you would expect of a pristinely forged example of that metal.”

  The pair of engineers paled.

  “Impossible!” whispered the first.

  The second shook his head. “There are no self-regenerating mines filled with pristine ore in malleable form outside of fairy tales.”

  Eric’s smirked. “Would it help to admit that I’m half faerie? Faerie Prince, actually.”

  Eliot’s eyes widened. “Fuck! Really, Eric?”

  “Technically, Eliot. And I can’t tell you how weird it is to actually say that part out loud.”

  Eliot whistled. “No wonder I had the hots for your twin so… anyway, look at them race to the back of their armory as fast as they can.”

  In short order, they brought a reinforced metal tray cart that was squeaking against the tiles as if truly burdened by the mass of the objects contained therein. A bemused Eric spotted a collection perfectly round and polished balls of a blue-grey alloy of various sizes and diameters.

  The pair of dwarves, Eric was intrigued to note, were puffing with both fatigue and pride.

  “Behold! Our proof of concept against Lord Song’s cursed power armor.”

  Eric blinked. “Cannonballs?”

  This earned a snort. “Not just any cannonballs. These are a tungsten osmium carbide blend that takes on the best properties of multiple composites! It’s density is unparalleled for penetration power, nearly as hard as diamond with the lowest compressibility of any alloy we’ve ever forged! Which means that if the barrel will survive the vapor pressure and the charge is sufficient, these balls should tear through even Song’s power-armored mercenaries!”

  Eric’s heart raced. He could barely contain his excitement.

  “May I?” He softly asked with puppy dog eyes.

  The closer dwarf snorted. “Be my guest, but considering the ball that you’re eyeing isn’t 24 but 100 pounds…”

  Eric’s eyes widened with awe. “No fucking way!” He said, caressing the priceless metallic orb before him with trembling fingers.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Eric stole a frustrated glance Eliot’s way. “I know you might think it silly, but if I could get this beautiful, beautiful prize to the rift entrance where I’ll be back to my full self…”

  Eliot chuckled, giving Eric a bemused look. “Seriously? Even if you could use it, how the heck will you get it to come back to you?”

  Eric winked. “Trust me.”

  Eliot just stared. “No, you did not waste a node for some instant retrieval bullshit, did you?”

  “Um… no comment?” Eric said, biting his lip, his eyes that of someone who really, really wanted that ball. “Okay. I think my Strength is over twenty, after eating that beast heart. Maybe I can carry it?”

  Eliot furrowed his brow. “Shit, Eric, don’t strain yourself before we even get to the entrance. We’re going to have to have someone scout the area, then make a dash for cover when we know it’s… shit, you’re actually picking it up!”

  A trembling Eric gave an awed smile. “I am! And just holding it… I feel like I’m getting familiar with it just carrying this beautiful ball of silvery blue death in my hands. And you guys weren’t kidding! It’s easily 4 times the density of an iron cannonball.”

  The pair of dwarves huffed. “Of course we weren’t!”

  The shorter one frowned. “And you look like an idiot, trembling and holding that thing. Alright, hold on a minute. Let me get you the bag for it.”

  Eliot blinked at that. “Wait, it has a bag? And you didn’t tell us?”

  Eric chuckled. “It’s alright. I’m just grateful they find us worthy of the bag and ball.”

  “It’s not that we find you worthy of claiming our greatest creation. It’s just that, well, none of our cannons can withstand the vapor pressure that builds up, trying to fire these things! Not even the smaller balls! Not unless Orlin let’s us build way off spec, and he won’t authorize that until our productivity increases, which is impossible while under siege from Song, and we need better cannons and ammo to fight him! It’s a brutal Catch-22!”

  He then gestured towards the smaller beautiful orbs of sweet deadly dismemberment and Eric’s eyes widened, realizing he was being a complete idiot, overlooking the obvious awesome potential before him.

  He bit his lip, putting forth his most hopeful smile. “I don’t suppose I could, well, grab another?”

  This earned a snort. “Truly, child? When you can barely hold the… my goodness, you got it in a perfect two seam grip!”

  “And it has no seams at all. But yeah. No gap between ball and palm because this is closer to softball than fastball in size, and it has no stitches at all. Just a perfect 24 spherical pounds of death.”

  Eric grinned at the silvery blue ball of hyper dense and incredibly strong alloy that he held in his hand that was just the slightest bit smaller than a typical softball and that he could hold surprisingly comfortably in his hand. He had to resist the urge to squeeze it, to test how incompressible it truly… no. Not yet.

  He swallowed his excitement. “I think… yeah. I’m pretty sure that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for my… let’s call it my Slinger class to include beaming fastballs faster than anything in the big leagues.” He gave the bemused dwarven engineer his biggest smile. “And you know I’m happy to slide a few hundred thousand credits to my favorite pair of engineers, once things are stable topside.”

  The scowling engineer blinked at this. “You realize that we…”

  “I’m close friends with Caliban Caerulus. Head of Blue Corp Bank.”

  “Please, take them both with our blessings. And we’re happy to work on commission with quality customers!” The no longer hesitant dwarf said with a positively beaming smile. “It is an absolute pleasure to do business with a hero of the Ironthews clan!”

  Eric nodded. “A pleasure doing business with you gentlemen,” he said as the second dwarf, holding a reinforced leather backpack, turned to glare at his companion.

  “Seriously, Hurly? You’re giving him two?”

  “Shut up, idiot! He’s paying us 200,000 credits, via Blue Corp!”

  “That’s…” The second engineer’s eyes widened, before quickly surrendering the pack to Eric.

  “Here, good sir! This pack should safely store all your prizes!”

  “Thank you.” Eric quickly strapped the bag across his shoulders before beaming at Eliot. “Fucking awesome. Okay, buddy. I’m ready when you are.”

  Eliot gazed at him for long moments as they hurried away at a fast clip, the engineers giving them a happy farewell wave.

  “I can’t help but notice the leather sling you’re holding.”

  “Yup.”

  “A leather sling my interface pings as being made from… well, a very unusual source.”

  “Could be.”

  “One that you’re now covering in blood welling up from your own hand?”

  Eric nodded.

  “And now there are glowing runes blazing crimson and shimmering like sapphires all over the straps and pocket?”

  Eric laughed. “I see you have very good eyes, even while dwarven Steam keeps you mortal.”

  Eliot crossed his arms. “Did you just summon a magical sling and reinforce it to the point that it can whip about a hundred pounds worth of dwarven alloy without shredding itself to pieces?”

  Eric’s smile grew strained. “Considering that I just invested a full Soul Point into enhancing it… and that I’ll be adding two and a half more Soul Points worth of juice to the pair of cannon balls I’m juggling in my hands, just as soon as I feel familiar with their weight, which will hopefully be in just a minute or two… yeah. I’m going all in on this badboy.”

  Eliot blinked. “Eric… three and a half Soul Reserve Points? Do you know how hard those are… of course you do. That’s fucking insane!”

  Eric nodded. “Yup. It totally is.”

  “And you’re still going through with it.”

  “100% Shall we meet up with the others?”

  “Sure… fuck!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Eliot glared at the pair tungsten osmium carbide balls Eric was now physically juggling.

  “You’re flipping those things around like like it’s nothing!”

  Eric nodded. “Yup.” He then closed his eyes, whispering words and shivering as the pair of balls flared to life with runes that had Eliot stumbling back, before shaking his head.

  “They’re now both red as blood with fiery runes blazing so bright that they make my eyes water and my skin crawl and… fuck! It’s actually working! And why did you only put away the smaller one? Oh, you’re twirling the larger one about in your sling! Shit, that thing weighs a hundred pounds! How? How are you even… how?”

  Eric flashed a blissful smile. “Yes. I am. Slowly, for now. I’m just getting a feel for it. Making sure that Rank 2 Impermeability infused soul-bound leather means that the sling isn’t breaking, no matter how much strain I’ll be putting on it very soon. But you might, um, want to stay a few feet back. If this thing hits you, it will tear through you like you’re made of cotton candy.”

  Eliot paled. “Fuck, Eric. What you’re doing… you’d need several hundred Strength. I’ve watched shot-putters. If they saw you twirling that monstrous 100 pound weight with your wrist and shoulder muscles like that… no. you should be straining like it weighs more than a couple of ounces. That’s a hundred fucking pounds!”

  Eric winked. “Damn right it is. Why do you think I soul-bound it so fast? Consider my specialization, where some might say I foolishly invested node slots into perfecting. But I say, whose the fool now? The guy with a 100 pound cannon ball twirling in his sling pocket even with Strength no higher than my own, or the idiots I took out, long ago?”

  Eliot just shook his head. “Fuck… Soul Binding and node perk lets you ignore its weight when twirling it? That’s fucking incredible! If you can fling that sucker at even fastball speeds… yeah. I think I know how you got strong enough to clear even one territory and earn Blue Federation’s respect.”

  Eric’s old neighbor gave a rueful chuckle “And I thought I was badass with this magical bow.”

  “You are. Clearly,” Eric assured. “I can sense that you’re bonded with one deadly tool, and I haven’t even seen you fire it!”

  “Well you will soon, I promise,” A once more cheerful Eliot promised. “Come on. I think you, me and Zack will make a great team! Ranged specialists really are where it’s at for sniping overpowered beasties or dealing with blaster-wielding assholes. And Zack, with his steampunk powered armor, can take quite a few hits from those blaster fuckers after investing five fucking nodes into being just as much of a power-armored badass as those offworld sci-fi hacks!” Eliot’s eyes flashed with fierce satisfaction. “And you better believe Zack will keep on giving as good as he gets!”

  Eric blinked as they quickly picked up the pace, twirling his silvery blue ball of death with unthinking grace. “Five nodes? Are you serious? That’s… shit. That’s a damn serious investment.”

  Eliot nodded. “Yup! And so far, we’ve been making use of every advantage he has, when we’re kissing deep Red-Tier regions. And it’s payed off. Big time. We’re both Level 6 Bronze, now.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I shit you not, before things got really, really scary, we were even thinking of sniping Black. Anyway, it’s like King Orlin said. Today we, the big boys, will be swinging large and fucking that Song asshole right up!”

  Eric couldn’t help chuckling at that, happily giving what, yeah, he guessed was a friend a high five, even if there had been an uncomfortable spike of competitiveness and jealousy in their acquaintanceship, a few years back.

  “Damn right, we’ll be fucking Song up! And this time it won’t just be my wounded bleeding ass that he’s sniping at.”

  They had been teenagers still finding themselves, back then.

  Now, they were men.

  Though he certainly wasn’t expecting the wince, or the odd look he was being given.

  “Eric?”

  “What’s up, Eli?”

  Eliot furrowed his brow, wincing as he rubbed his wrist. “You’re suppressed, right?”

  Eric grinned. “You know it! And for proof… I can’t open a single one of my ES Spaces. The dwarven… can I say Dwem—better not, with that look you’re giving me. Anyway, the dwarven steam has my sweetest edge totally locked down.”

  “Sure. It’s just that, well, you’re strong as fuck!”

  Eric nodded. “For a mortal, sure. I told you I was around twenty, maybe a couple points over. Don’t recall what I finally left with it at, seeing as it’s hard to glimpse my character sheet without a headache in Enigma. But that magically delicious wolf heart gave me five whole points on top of what I got for training and ranking up my cultivation... so fuck yes!”

  Eliot snorted. “Lucky bastard.”

  “Says you!” Eric grinned at his friend. “Using quest lines and dwarven spirits to implant an artificial Bronze Soul Core into your lower Dantian, and bam! Adept-Tier Bronze Sniper class! But that’s not all, is it, buddy?” He punched his blushing friend in his muscular chest. Carefully. “Since people can both grab an adventuring class and cultivate, though you really gotta work for the latter, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you could get a SECOND… that’s right, a second adventuring class for your Upper Dantian as—shit, you have absolutely no poker face, dude. Because I can tell you’re already thinking of doing just that!”

  Eliot couldn’t quite wipe the grin off his face. “Yeah, man. That holds for both me and Zack! Of course we shunted all our experience gains to our Dwarven classes, so soon as we can actually get our asses into a non-tainted pod… I have high hopes. Can you imagine just how fucking awesome it would be if two sniping/archery style Class perks stacked? Zachary's thinking of either hyper specializing in a second power-armored class, or adding a more generalist Warrior type Bronze class, so he’s also badass without his suit and can delve in caves and rifts. But the stat points will stack, and that’s everything!”

  His excited grin turned to an awkward grimace. “But um… we didn’t want to say anything that might have you hating on us, especially when you and I are finally having a decent convo together without any fucking awkwardness. And don’t even pretend you don’t have an absurdly awesome slinging class yourself, the way you’re juggling those super dense cannon balls like it’s nothing!”

  Eric chuckled, waving his friend’s concerns away. “Don’t even sweat it, Eliot. I think if you can backdoor two System style classes into one build? You’re totally playing life the way a Contender should. Besides. I’m almost certain that Concep—I mean, the System, far from being upset, will absolutely love getting as much data about your oddball power set as it can!”

  “Oh, yeah. The System messaged me about doing just that! It even gave me a quest to befriend the Guardians of Ashland so that I can get permission to make the most of…” He blinked, staring at a smirking Eric.

  “Didn’t you say… okay, fuck. This is awkward, now.”

  Eric snorted. “Yup! That Tier-II Elite ascension center full of juicy untainted pods is mine. And yes, Eliot. You’re more than welcome to use it.”

  “My man!” Eliot’s high five was totally on point. “Now that’s exactly what I wanted to hear!” He winced. “And you’re still too strong. Ha! I’ve only gotten my Strength up to 25 the hard way. Partly, its growing Steam resistance, but mostly it’s training in the gym here. And the great thing is, those extra points I earn actually translate to my main build! Even if jumping a handful of points isn’t such a big deal when you finally hit Bronze, every point earned is a point earned. Know what I mean?”

  Eric solemnly nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “But if you want to see a natural power lifter, Melly is totally where it’s at.” He sighed. “Of course she gets the full advantage of her Elite Dwarven Primal Berserker class. But fuck if she isn’t an absolutely badass, benching those massive plates of osmium alloy like it’s fucking nothing.”

  Eric blinked. “Are you and Melissa…”

  Eliot adamantly shook his head. “Hell, no. I only fell in love once, Eric. And as tempting as things have been post-apocalypse… and you’d better believe most of the heroes, and even my boy Zack with his only slightly buff build, take full advantage.” He shrugged, giving a self-conscious chuckle. “I know you and Elonia are native New Yorkers, just like me. I kept hoping that maybe I’d find you guys in perilous circumstances and be able to swoop in like a hero and save the day.”

  Cheeks flushing, he stole a surreptitious glance Eric’s way. “I know. That sounds pretty stupid, huh? A kid’s hero fantasy.”

  Eric smiled, slowly shaking his head. “No, Eliot. Actually it’s...it’s really cool, hearing you say that. You were always good to Elonia. I can… well, I can accept that now. She only lost focus and hope when you just up and vanished.”

  Eliot paled, lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry, Eric. I was a fucking coward and—”

  Eric shook his head. “Bullshit. Some group of punks hired by a psychopathic teen-trafficking asshole pulled a gun on you, Eliot. You made the only sane move any kid born with a silver spoon who doesn’t have to fight and kill to survive could have made. Back the fuck down, acknowledge that things are way out of your league… and call one of the most powerful shadow players in New York.” Eric flashed a bleak smile. “My mom, who didn’t do shit. It’s not your fault that for some fucking reason, she expected us to be little Machiavellian master manipulators pulling the strings of all the predatory wolves circling us. But we weren’t her, with centuries of experience twisting the arms of the corrupt and powerful. We never had a ruthless emperor for a father like some of my other siblings did a century ago, to help us figure things out.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “Nope, we were a couple of clueless teens left to the wolves. Especially Elonia. I have no idea what the fuck mom was thinking, but considering her taste in men…” He flushed at the look Eliot was giving him. “I know. TMI right? Sorry. Fortunately our family issues have been resolved.”

  Eliot blinked at that. “No shit. So you found out who your father was?”

  Eric lurched, nearly sending his deadly alloyed ball flying to absolutely devastating effect, before snatching it from the air before it could do any such thing… now holding it very carefully. “Yeah, Eliot. I found out.”

  “Sweet. So who was he? IF you don’t mind me… yeah, never mind, that’s no really my business, is it?”

  Eric sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s dead.”

  Eliot blanched at that. “Seriously? Jeez, Eric, I’m so sorry!”

  Eric chuckled coldly. “Don’t be. It’s better this way. Trust me.”

  Eliot’s gaze was filled with sympathy. “Still, Eric. That’s pretty fucked up. What happened?”

  Eric turned, locking gazes with the boy beside him.

  “I ended him.”

  Eliot froze. “Shit.”

  Eric sighed. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Eliot’s gaze hardened. He crossed his arms, slowly shaking his head. “Sorry, Eric. I know life is pretty fucked up now, but there are lines. Lines we don’t fucking—”

  “He was going to kill Elonia.”

  Eric’s eyes flashed with heat he no longer bothered holding back. Eliot trembled, falling to one knee. “And he laughed when he said it. Laughed when he told me what he’d do to her. His own fucking daughter!”

  Eric took a shuddering breath, squeezing hands that were giving far, far too much away before forcing himself to relax, take a deep breath, and laugh it all off. “You know what’s really pathetic? I still hold out hope that somehow, that bastard wasn’t kin to me at all. He was just using some really twisted Deep Silver blood magic to manipulate and destroy. That somehow, I got a cool loving father out there, just waiting for me to find a way to reach out to him. But that’s a kid’s dream, and it’s about time I manned the fuck up. So enough about my fucked up backstory. We got a city to liberate and a dwarven clan to elevate and a fuckhead to destroy. So let’s get moving!”

  “Shit, Eric. I’m sorry, I didn’t… fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything, should I?”

  Eric shook his head. “No, you’re fine, Eliot. I’m coming off like a bloodthirsty psychopath because fuck it. Both my parents… yeah. This crazy apple didn’t fall that far from those two trees, even if my mother was everything I could have ever hoped for, in the end. Even if Elonia’s so far above me that she’s almost angelic in comparison, and thank god for that. One of us should be. I’m glad it’s her.”

  Eliot swallowed. “Eric?”

  Eric took a deep, shuddering breath. “S’up?”

  “Promise you won’t kill me?”

  Eric scowled. “What are you talking—shit. You still have the hots for my sister. Don’t you.”

  Eliot swallowed, bowing his head. “I never stopped loving her, Eric. I can only hope that she’ll forgive me for not being there when she needed me.” He bit his lip anxiously. “She isn’t… she isn’t seeing anyone, is she?”

  “Boys? No. She’s pretty tight with a certain girl in Boston, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  Eliot flushed. “Oh, shit, I thought she was joking when she said she was… bi. Teasing me. You know?”

  Eric shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know shit, Eliot. So come on. Let’s go.”

  “Eric...”

  Eric sighed. “Let’s go, Eliot. We got a city to save and I REALLY need to blow off some fucking steam.”

  “Okay, sure. It’s just that, when this is over…”

  Eric turned to him, waiting for him to say it.

  “Can I come with you?”

  Eric smirked. “To check out Ashland’s sweet, untainted pods, or to see my sister?”

  Eliot flushed his cheeks, but didn’t deny it. “Both, Eric. But believe it or not? If it’s a choice…” He bit his lip, looking uncomfortably vulnerable. “I’d like to see Elonia.”

  Eric snorted. “Wrong answer. You’re a Contender, and there are a billion girls out there. Power, and sure, loyalty to our battle brothers, are the ONLY things that should be on our minds.”

  Eliot smirked, eyes twinkling. “Sure, Eric. Like you don’t try to play the hero every chance you get in this fucked up world. The vibes you give off are kinda bloody for a paladin, but you do radiate both, for some reason. Ha ha. Don’t tazer me with that look, bro. But… yeah. I’d like to see if maybe there’s still a spark between Elonia and I.” His eyes lightened with a bittersweet smile. “I need to at least confess how I feel. To say how sorry I am. How much I wish we could start over… as whatever she wanted us to be.”

  Eric blinked, gazing at the youth before him for long moments, hating what his instincts were telling him.

  “Come on, let’s get going. Wait, is that Melissa waiting for us, all stealthy in the corridor up ahead?”

  “Eric!”

  “Yes, fine. I’ll arrange it. Now let’s go see what our latest addition wants.” He flashed a bright smile in the gloom hiding the powerfully built and fully armored woman he had once been so enamored by.

  “Hey Mels, what’s up?”