Sam

Will came out of the clinic looking unfashionably smug. She asked if he'd had a good time with his little friend, and he gave an evasive non-answer.

"You really need to stop keeping so many secrets," Sam grumbled. "I'm starting to feel left out here, you know?"

Will hit her with an infuriating smirk. "Oh, come on—you know you like it. All part of my alluring air of mystery."

He hobbled out into the path leading downhill, stiffly weaving between uniformed, grim-faced men, and Sam jogged after. "Like shit I do! I know a patented Will Greene scheme when I see one, and I wanna know about it."

"Just think of it as a surprise I haven't finished setting up yet. You'll find out what I'm doing eventually, don't worry."

"At the same time as all the plebs, you mean? Yeah, thanks a bunch, dickhead."

Will stopped in the road, gently pushing aside a soldier who got close to bumping into him without looking in the guy's direction. His one sightless eye was open, fixed on her.

"Sam," he said. "Behave."

"Sorry, what?" Sam spluttered, outraged, at the same time that a ticklish jolt went through her lower stomach. The sudden surge of sexual tension brought her up short with five feet between them, and she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "Are you telling me to shut up?"

"I'm telling you to let me worry about what you should be worrying about."

Sam put hands on hips, clearing her throat to keep her voice from going shrill. "You're not my fuckin' boss, dude."

"No. But I do make the decisions. And I expect you to follow them."

"Mmh!" Sam squeaked.

Bastard! Quit pushing my buttons!!!

"Sorry, what was that?" Will asked, and took a small step closer. He had closed his eye again, but somehow she felt more naked than ever.

"I…"

"Do you disagree?"

"You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" He arched a questioning eyebrow in a way that made her feel like an idiot. "You pretty much said it yourself—I'm a schemer. I'm pretty good at it, too. So how about you don't tell me how to scheme, and I don't tell you how to punch things really hard?"

"You don't have to put it like that…"

He smiled, and patted her softly on the arm. "You trust me, right?"

"Sure," Sam pouted.

"Then let me keep my little secrets. It's more fun that way."

"Ugh! Fine! Like I care about your nerd shit anyway!"

"There's my girl," he chuckled, and continued down the hill. Not that she would admit it under torture, but he was… sort of right. She did sort of like it when she had no idea what he was about to do next.

Sam trotted after, horny from being teased and angry for being horny and even hornier because she was angry, and even more angry because she knew she wouldn't be able to do anything about it even after they arrived at the farm with the state Will's body was in.

How are you going to take responsibility for this, Mr. Big Shot? she thought, glaring daggers at his back. How about you scheme your girlfriend into an orgasm every now and then, huh? How about that?

"Quit staring," Will called over his shoulder.

"Meep!" Sam cleverly rebutted as she flinched up straighter, suddenly reminded that he was probably still watching her even with his head turned.

That gave him just a second's pause before he kept moving again. "Meep…?"

Her face heated up, and she lengthened her strides until they were walking side by side. "Shut your face. I'll kill you." She matched her tempo to his plodding, labored gait, ready to reach out and catch him if he fell.

"Aw. And here I was hoping for a kiss."

She snorted. "You get a kiss when you start being nice to me."

"I thought we just agreed who's wearing the pants around here? So what if I tell you to give me a kiss?" He pointed to his stubbled cheek, wearing that same insufferable smirk. "Right here."

Even though he could have asked more nicely, she didn't see any particular reason to refuse, so she pulled him to a stop and gave him a hard peck on the indicated spot, left with pleasant tingles on her lips from the coarseness of his stubble.

"See?" he said. "You can follow commands when you feel like it."

"Okay, dude, seriously? You need to stop this line of tease-oning right now."

"Why?"

"Because…" …I'm not sure if I want to hit you or fuck you and I can't do either, which just doesn't seem fair at all.

Maybe some of her embarrassment showed through, because his features softened and she said: "All right, Sam. I'm sorry for teasing you."

"Don't worry about it," Sam muttered. At least it meant he wasn't feeling too sick to joke around.

They left the military compound behind as the ground leveled out and they entered Topside proper. Progress along the main thoroughfares was pretty good, with new buildings having sprung up in place of the old in clusters and grids according to some architectural reasoning she was not privy to. Construction teams of Builders and militiamen worked diligently, sounds of sawing and hammering and shouted instructions filling the air. Here and there, outside volunteers were helping out by carrying supplies or clearing debris, covered in soot up to their knees and elbows, or by manning large outdoor kitchens serving food to workers and survivors out of huge pots.

They made slow progress through the busy streets. Will sometimes reached out for Sam to prop him up when his leg cramped or he got too tired, but most of the time he insisted on walking by himself.

"Do you know if there's anyone at the farm right now?" Will asked in a loud voice to be heard over the bustle as they cut a slow path through an intersection where a temporary market had been set up, selling threadbare supplies and foodstuffs at vastly inflated prices.

"I think so," Sam replied, staying half a step ahead of him so she could scoop people out of his way. "Last I know, that kid Sunny was hanging out there, along with ADAM, the robot."

"Good. Makes sense to keep her out of the way."

"By the way, I thought you told me there are no children on the Frontier?"

"I did. This one's special somehow. I haven't quite figured out what she's doing here yet. There was no time before I almost had my ticket punched."

"Right. And the robot? If I remember correctly, you also told me that there is no electricity on the Frontier."

"He doesn't run on electricity, obviously. I'm not sure exactly how he was made, but I assume he's at least Enchanted with the Animate skill."

"So… magic mumbo jumbo?"

Will chuckled. "Yes. As far as you're concerned, let's leave it there. Either way, he told me he's the only one of his kind—a machine with a soul, that is—but who knows how true that is."

"Well, you're not the only one who knows a one-of-a-kind type guy," Sam said smugly. "Gug should also be at the farm, so you'll get to meet him soon."

"Who's Gug?"

"He's a troll."

Will stayed quiet. Sam refused to elaborate. She was going to wait him out, make him look stupid for once by making him ask.

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Finally, he sighed and said: "What do you mean, he's a troll?"

Sam grinned as she steered some careless Laborer aside, spectacularly pleased with herself. "Oh, you know, just a troll who has the mind of a human. He's got Concord access, too. Not a big deal or anything, I've seen loads of shit like that by now."

"Huh." He walked silently in her wake for a while, good eye moving beneath the lid as he was engaged in deep thought. "Level? Profession?"

"Level 7 Scholar."

"A troll Scholar."

"Mmhmm. He also 'whooshes'."

"He whooshes," Will repeated flatly.

Sam grinned back at him. "Yup! He uses a skill called Brainstorm, and that lets him tag out with his brother."

"Tag out… brother…"

"More like an alternate personality, really. Gug is really nice, but his brother Nug is kinda scary. I once saw him kill another troll with a Power Word [Death]."

"Power Word [Death]? But that's…"

Sam was pleased at having reduced him to parroting. "Impossible? Maybe to someone narrow-minded like you."

She expected him to call her a liar or something, or at least question her grip on reality. Instead he just snorted at the jab and returned to his thoughts. A short while later, he said: "Fascinating. I'm looking forward to meeting him."

Sam laughed. "Ha! I knew you'd get a big nerd boner over it!"

"And you're sure he's not dangerous?"

"Yeah! Gug's my friend, and he loves people in general. Nug can be violent, but only to protect his brother, and I've already got an agreement with him. He's chill."

"I see."

"So? Impressed?"

She looked over her shoulder and found Will smiling mildly up at her, his tired, hollowed features a little softened. "Very, actually. Where did you find him?"

"A cage in Timbryhall. I bought his freedom along with Oatmeal. Mongrel was pretty unhappy with me at the time."

"I probably would have had a few choice words to say as well."

"I figured."

"It seems like you made the right choice, though. Excellent work, Sam."

Sam's cheeks flushed, and she quickly jerked back to forward-facing. "Maybe that'll teach you to have some faith in me, huh?"

"You know I do."

"Oh…?" Sam asked, flustered.

"That's the reason why I trusted you to go north, even though looking at it on paper you didn't have nearly enough experience. I knew you'd pull through. There's only one person in the world I have complete faith in, and it's you."

"Mmm… well… of course." Sam fought to keep her strides even on legs that kept wanting to fold under her. "That goes without saying. But… thanks."

But Will was already absorbed back into his thoughts, and didn't seem to hear her. "There are so many threads to follow," he muttered, his voice almost swallowed by the clamor. "Three impossibilities, all in one place. That can't be a coincidence, can it…? What's creating them? What's drawing them together?"

She sighed, and turned her focus to managing traffic. Let him have his fun. Hearing him talk to himself put a smile on her face. It slowly slipped when she became aware of the conversations around them gradually changing tone, becoming cold and tinged with suspicion.

Someone pointed. "Hey, isn't that him?"

Someone else flinched with recognition. "Oh shit, it is. I thought he was supposed to be dead."

"He sure looks dead."

People slowly joined in as they took notice of others talking until there were murmurs all around.

"One-Eye…"

"The Butcher."

"Brimstone's dog."

"I thought Lord Buck put him down already. Why would he let someone like that live?"

"The assassin must've made some kind of deal to save his own skin."

"Look at him. I bet he's running from the city."

"I'd do the same if I was him. He's not welcome here."

"What the hell…? My wife is dead, but that killer gets to live? After everything he's done?"

Sam was looking around at the people crowding away from her and Will in mute shock, avoiding them like they had the plague, so she didn't notice the object soaring through the air until it was too late to catch it.

A piece of charcoal bounced off Will's chest, leaving a dirty smudge on his tunic. He didn't react to being hit in any way, just turning his head this way and that like an owl as he regarded the hundred plus Sheerhome citizens in the market through his closed eyes.

"Who the fuck threw that?" Sam shouted, and stepped in front of Will to shield him with her body. "Next one who does that, I'll make him eat his shoes!" Her voice carried across the wide intersection; made some folk falter in their jeering, but spurred others to get even louder and more belligerent.

"Fuck you!" someone yelled. "You helped Brimstone burn the city!"

"He fought for you!" Sam yelled right back. "He nearly killed himself saving you from Brimstone! How about some fucking gratitude?"

She saw the second hurled projectile coming—a rock—and caught it in her hand, crushed it to gravel. "I saw that, assface," she said, jabbing a finger at the man who'd thrown it. Those closest to him stepped away, leaving him alone in the middle of a wide empty berth, and he looked around anxiously at those abandoning him. "Only brave when you're ganging up on someone, huh? I've known a thousand people like that. Let's see how—"

"Sam," Will said softly, catching her wrist as she went toward the rock thrower and stopping her cold. "I'll handle this."

"But—"

"I'll handle it."

Something in his voice shut down any argument she might have offered. She nodded slowly, frowning. I hope he's not about to do something dangerous.

One second Will was holding her arm. The next he had vanished with only the briefest streak of movement and a rush of air to mark his passage. She looked over just in time to see his fist collide with the gut of the rock thrower standing more than twenty feet away; a clean, precise, almost impossibly quick strike. Oof. Liver shot.

The man went limp like his lights had shut off, and Will caught him by the hair before he could fall backward, holding him balanced on his heels.

A silence fell over the market. Folk didn't seem sure if they wanted to run or retaliate. She thought it looked like a few people were reaching for whatever weapon-shaped objects lay at hand. Glances and whispers were shared.

Sam clenched her fists tight. She had no idea what scheme Will was cooking up this time, but if it failed, she'd be ready to bust some heads.

An older woman was flagging down a team of militiamen working a half-finished timber skeleton on the northwest corner, waving her arms over her head. "You men!" she cried. "You're Lord Buck's soldiers, aren't you? That's Brimstone's right hand man over there! And look, he's clearly injured! You can finish him off now while you have the chance! If you let him walk away, how many more innocent people will die in the future?"

The squad of Laborers had already taken note of the tumult and come away from their work to watch, seated on stools and tool boxes and stacks of planks. None of them made any move to join the mob. But they did not move to break it up, either.

The message was fairly clear. 'Deal with this yourselves.'

"I'm glad there are so many of you wanting to wish me a speedy recovery!" he called out in a cutting, imperious tone, again ushering cautious silence from the crowd. "After the coldness of the grave, so many smiling faces is a balm. Truly grateful, everyone. I won't forget this." If possible, his voice turned even more frigid as he continued. "I won't forget any of you. See, I've got a good memory for faces. Names, too."

A few people chuckled uncertainly at that, or offered angry rebuttals. Sam shifted nervously, trying to keep every potential threat in view at once and failing badly. It was clear that Will was trying to scare these people off, but she wasn't sure that his little speech had quite the effect he wanted it to.

"Roy Spencer, Level 5 Explorer," Will said, making it sound almost like some kind of official declaration. "Huang Zhou, Level 4 Artisan. Henrietta Gruenbacher, Level 7 Explorer. Miguel Pereira, Level 9 Trader. Dieter Neumann, Level 6 Explorer."

The laughter continued, even picked up, until folk started looking around and realizing that there were a few people who were decidedly not laughing. That started sapping their confidence away pretty quick.

"Andrzej Nowak, Level 3 Entertainer," Will continued, sounding like a bored teacher reading out an attendance sheet. "Filip Nykvist, Level 8 Builder. Alana Costa, Level 6 Trader." He sighed and shrugged. "Well, you get the gist—I won't bore you with the rest." Still hanging onto the weakly flailing man, he turned his head to gaze out over the crowd. His one blind eye was open, thrown crazy wide. "You might think you can kill me. You can't. Brimstone tried his very best, and I'm still here." He gave a friendly smile. "The devil wouldn't have me, you see. Must have been something I said.

"Now, I consider myself a pretty easygoing guy, but everyone has their faults. Mine? I hold a mean grudge. And like I said, I've got a long memory. So let's try and get along, shall we? For your sakes."

That killed any remaining desire to pick a fight. The mob began to disperse, some pounding pavement while others reluctantly went back to their shopping, seeming mostly resolved to erase the incident from their memories and ignore Will's existence entirely aside from a few unnerved glances and dirty looks.

The man Will was holding had fully come to and was struggling to get free. Will let go of his hair and kicked him onto his ass with a disgusted sneer. When the man rolled onto all fours to scramble away, he put another boot in the man's behind to speed him along.

Sam ran over to Will just in time to catch his arm as he began to topple over. He was trembling, holding onto her tightly, eyelids screwed shut.

"Why do you always have to show off?" she muttered, hanging onto a fistful of his shirt back.

Will smiled wanly. "'Cause I've got someone I want to impress."

"Dummy."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"Did I look cool?"

"Pretty cool," she admitted. "How did you do that?"

"With maximum effort." Will took his grip off her and let her hold him up so he could show her the inside of his left arm. Only three glowing AP crystals were still lit blue. "Turns out I'm not quite good enough for Identify [All]. I had to keep copying the instance."

She didn't know what that meant. "It was an expensive gamble, then?" She did realize that he had covered his sheet by holding onto that man with his left arm, and had to imagine it was intentional. Always a clever little cookie.

"Yeah. But it paid off." He laughed; it sounded surprisingly genuine. "I didn't even have to kill anyone."

"Oh, you precious idiot." She gave him a squeeze. "I'm proud of you."

Will tried to stand on his own, but his right leg folded immediately and Sam had to haul him upright again. "It's the skill fatigue," he complained breathlessly. "It's making me a bit dizzy."

"Don't worry," Sam said. "I'll carry you. Let's get out of here."

"No. I have to walk on my own."

"Don't be stubborn."

He sighed. "Right now they fear me more than they hate me. If they figure out how weak I really am, they'll be on me before you can say 'Oops'."

"I can outrun all these chumps easy, you know."

"Which is great, except this is my city. And since I'm not planning on moving anytime soon, that means I've got a reputation to maintain."

"A terrible reputation."

Will smiled. "And I work hard to keep it that way."

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