"Hello?" Marcy bellowed in the same transport-for-London voice, except her mouth didn't move at all. She was still clasping her hands before her, knees buckling under the strain of invisible weight. The words echoed all around them, as if there were booming speakers on the corners of every building in the neighbourhood.

Tanya whipped round, looking for speakers she didn't see. The sound was completely level—the exact same, no matter which way she was facing, in a perfected surround sound. "Wicked!"

Marcy tried again, the 'Hello' sounding first to one side, then closer, then the other. This one reminded Tanya of a football ground chant and the way it would ripple throughout a stadium. Tanya kept spinning, hearing the way the sound was so perfectly locational.

Marcy then tried to quieten it, each thing she said growing quieter and quieter as her face tensed from concentration. That's when Tanya noticed Marcy's hands. With each thrown sentence, Marcy's fingers would twitch, making a small hold in her clasped hands for the sound to escape. Tanya still wasn't sure if that was a practical trapping of the magic, or a more mental way of controlling it, akin to how Tanya used to move her fingers to move her Interface.

The next sound was an echoing, realistic growl, and Tanya's heart lurched. She began to summon Phantom Brand in instinct before remembering it wasn't real. From the frantic jerks of Pete and Dante, she wasn't the only one.

"Oops… sorry," Marcy said. "I'm trying… to make it… real."

Marcy tried again, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she manipulated the sound. First, she forced it quieter, then she changed the location. It went from all around Tanya and the others to coming from the Butcher across the street. Finally, Marcy's face turning beetroot, she increased the echo. Tanya could hear the changes in real time, as each growl was manipulated as if in a studio. By the time the final modifications were done, Tanya could scarcely believe the noise wasn't coming from the metal bin in front of the Butcher.

"The fact you can do stuff like this is crazy—" Tanya said, turning to Marcy just in time to see her eyes roll into the back of her head and Marcy's frail body slumping. Dante caught her. Then the screeching hit again. He dropped her the last foot, stumbling backwards. Tanya stared at the scene, overwhelmed by the pain for a moment that felt like it went on forever. Then her body kicked into gear and she stopped it firing with a pulse of will.

The small cannon collapsed and hung there by her side like a crushed limb, unable to hold itself up. Tanya prodded it, and it simply swung backwards and forward.

She checked her Attributes.

• • •

Attributes

Strength: 15/19

Dexterity: 23/ 34

Vitality: 12/ 24

Concentration: 5/20

Will: 7/ 26

• • •

Me Vitality's fine. Interestin'. I wonder what that's about?

She unsummoned the cannon, already walking towards Marcy on the ground.

"Woah, she fall like sack of potatoes!" Olena exclaimed, meeting Tanya by her body. Dante was already kneeling at her side, and Pete wasn't far behind them.

"She's breathing," Dante said.

"Just overusing her magic like an idiot," Pete snapped. He elbowed Olena aside, dropping to his knees and holding Marcy's shoulders, then squeezing down her arms, half checking for injuries and half panicked. His voice came softer, "What did you have to do that for Marce?"

Tanya wasn't sure what to make of Pete yet. She was starting to realise there were more layers to him than she thought.

Dante's hand reached out to Marcy's neck before stopping mid-air as if he had been burned. His eyes looked stricken. He abruptly stood up and crossed his arms, taking a few steps away.

Tanya and Olena made eye contact.

More layers to both of them, eh?

The glinting metal of Olena's cannon arm captured Tanya's attention, and Tanya crouched beside her, prodding the metal.

Pete flashed her a protective glare.

"Seeing her Attributes would be useful," Tanya started, watching Pete's defensiveness peter away. "Do either of you have a pact with her to see it or anythin'?"

Pete shook his head.

Dante didn't respond.

"He doesn't either," Pete said.

Tanya looked at Pete from the corner of her eye, curious as to their dynamic.

"How you know?" Olena said, voice dripping with distrust.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Pete sighed. "Let's get her inside, yeah?" He cradled her back, swinging her over his shoulder with more care and grace than Tanya would have guessed he had in him. He sped to the door, and Tanya had to jog and intercept to open it because Pete was picking up speed expectantly.

Pete laid Marcy down on one of the sofas, silently.

Tanya was convinced they just wouldn't get an answer.

"We have someone at the base with this management power thing," Pete admitted. "It's powerful—lots of information—but it means we can't really share our Interfaces with anyone else easily."

"Why?" Olena said, blunt as ever.

Pete flashed her some disgruntled side eye. "They can handle data better than us so apparently it would be pretty hard on anyone we gave the info to—too much brain power or something."

"But what does that mean for my—" Olena started. "No!" she cried. She dove towards her cannon on Marcy's arm, which now had a small trickle of smoke pouring out. "Off. Off. Off," Olena chanted, unclicking the catches and screeching open the metal door. Underneath, Marcy's arm was red, deeper along the lines of the inside grooves like some strange sunburn.

Olena stumbled to the counter, laying her cannon down and whipping a magnifying eyepiece from her pocket to inspect the damage. She was mumbling in what Tanya could only guess was an array of different European languages.

"She's a bit nutty, ain't she?" Pete whispered to Tanya.

Tanya's jaw clenched. "That's not cool, man."

He sighed, looking down at Marcy. "Yeah, sorry."

Tanya's eyebrows shot up, and she pulled them back down again.

She looked over her shoulder, seeing Dante fumbling with a packet of cigarettes, leaning against the door.

What an interestin' group.

"I'm not certain they'll help, but they can't hurt," Tanya said, summoning her Spiritual Bandages. "They help quickly rejuvenate different stats. I'll try her on Concentration, Vitality, and Will. She was probably castin' with at least one of 'em."

"Thanks," Pete said, flashing her a very brief but genuine smile.

Maybe he ain't so bad.

"So are you…?" Tanya ventured, indicating between Marcy and Pete.

Pete snorted. "She was a stranger a few days ago, and now she's me honorary sister." He sniffed, knuckling his nose. "Not that I need more of them. Got three full, two half, and two step." He shook his head.

Tanya snorted.

"But Marcy's just kind of…" He waved his hands around.

"Marcy?" Tanya offered.

"Exactly."

They fell into silence.

"What's his deal?" Tanya asked, pointing towards Dante's hunched form outside.

Pete lowered his voice. "Weird dude. Marcy came in with him. Apparently, they helped each other with some group of monsters or whatever. She really likes him, but…" He shook his head. "He seems like a nice enough guy, but I'm not sure you can ever really trust someone like that."

"Like what?" Tanya pressed.

Pete watched him through the door window. Tanya followed his gaze.

"His Class," Pete whispered. "He keeps it on the real down low, but I overheard him talking to The Manager about it…"

Tanya leaned forward, not wanting to press in case Pete clammed up.

Pete looked at Tanya, leaning closer. "Mercy Killer."

Tanya paused, processing the words. "Like—as in—" Tanya started.

Pete shrugged. "Everyone has their reasons, but…" Pete looked over his shoulder at Dante again. Dante stubbed out his cigarette with the toe of his boot.

Tanya's mind flurried with theories. Killing someone who'd been ripped in half by a monster was the most obvious—but was that defining enough to choose someone's Class? Somehow, she doubted it. Whatever he did was more impactful than any other attempt he made since the apocalypse. If he'd lunged at a monster with a knife and then also used the knife to end someone's life who was suffering, Tanya guessed he'd have a knife-themed Class.

Tanya wondered if he was more like her, getting a Class for non-apocalyptic reasons. Now she thought about it, she'd clocked him as a mafia stereotype pretty early on. But there weren't any mafias in London… were there?

What would the mafia even do to necessitate a Mercy Killing Class? Had he hurt someone so badly that killing them defined him? Tanya had no idea.

The door creaked as Dante made his way back in, enshrouded by the musk of the last of his cigarette smoke.

Tanya tensed without meaning to. Dante either didn't notice or didn't care.

He probably had good reason…

"Is she alright?" Dante asked, nodding towards Marcy.

"We think—" Tanya started, before being interrupted by a groan.

Marcy sat up slowly, clutching her head in one hand and steadying herself with the other. She opened one eye, squinting through the light. "Wow, that really hurts." She gasped. "Wait—we did it!" Her hand flew away, and she swung her legs round to sit.

"Be careful," Tanya warned.

The pain was already forgotten. "Did you see how cool I was? It felt like I was actually in a movie." She held her hands out in front of her in the same position she'd used, miming through the steps.

Her pep reminded Tanya of Fahad and then Tommy. Butterflies flapped in her stomach as Tanya remembered what this would all mean.

I might get to talk to Mum or Tommy.

"So can I have the cannon tattoo now?" Marcy asked.

"You still want it?" Tanya asked at the same time Pete said: "You're fucking insane."

"Absolutely," Marcy replied, unfazed. "It was perfect, didn't you see?"

"Uh, were we watching the same thing?" Dante asked. "You held it for a few seconds, then keeled over.

Marcy leapt up, a ball of excited energy barreling towards them. "I didn't just hold it, I channelled it!"

She looked at their blank faces.

"It's like all the sound I could possibly want, and all I need to do is work on channelling it."

"I suppose I might be able to find some way of lessening the volume with some practice," Tanya mused. She was already thinking about how she'd go about editing tattoos.

"See! See!" Marcy insisted. "It's everything I could want."

"If you're sure," Dante said.

"Your life," Pete added, more gruffly.

"Not until you're recovered," Tanya said.

Marcy sighed. "Fair enough."

"But what about your other one?" Tanya asked.

Marcy's mouth dropped open. "Oh my gosh—that's right—a custom." Her expression became more thoughtful. "Do you do tattoo pairs?" she asked. "Like, could you make me a tattoo that goes with the other one?"

"I could certainly try," Tanya replied. She thought it through for risks. "No promises it would work, but I don't see any risks to it if I do the tat on myself and transfer them both over."

She was trying to stay professional through the overwhelming excitement of getting to try not only a transfer, but also pairing tattoos together. It was high on her to do list already, so this gave her an excuse and a customer.

"So you want control, right?" Tanya asked, already pulling out her sketchbook.

"Control and–' Marcy looked down at her arm. "Where'd the screen thing go?"

"You almost broke it!" Olena yelled from behind the counter. The metal clanking noises then continued.

"The Manager Interface stuff we think," Pete added.

"Oh," Marcy said. "Sorry!" she called over the din.

Olena jumped from side to side, arms up in a gremlin pose. "Is okay! I fix it so much better now."

"And?" Tanya prompted.

"Oh, yeah! Tools. My Interface has that Prop Master Ability and—"

"You were hopin' I could trigger it with tattoos, which would give you more options, control the Attribute drain more clearly, and hopefully allow for synergy too?"

"Couldn't 'ave put it betta meself!" Marcy said, in a very bad cockney accent.

Tanya winced.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

Tanya raised an eyebrow. Pete crossed his arms. Dante sniffed.

"Right?...Guys?"

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