Collide Gamer

“And that’s confirmed?” John asked.

“Yes, yes, it is,” the Horned Rat responded.

The god had managed to make his way across the ocean. Sometimes John wondered how it was that he seemed to ignore travel distances in much the same way the Gamer did using his teleportation outposts. Then, he remembered that the god of future calamity either was or had connections to the fairies. There probably were some fae shenanigans he could pull to relocate.

All the same, the Horned Rat and Lorelei were currently seated in front of John’s desk. Lorelei was happy with the provided seat, while the god had, once more, brought out his own throne. Usually, the Gamer would have offered his love his lap, but it was currently occupied by Metra. The naked blonde had emerged from the leg compartment when the topic of conversation had become clear. Well, that and a part of John still wasn’t entirely comfortable having sex in front of certain people. It was a selective discomfort.

“If I may, I can indeed confirm that all has been confirmed,” Lorelei agreed with the god. “Together and on our own, we have seen that the tapestry of the future turns into an eldritch knot at the beginning of March, initiated by a great weave that rises from the bottom of the sea to the distant heavens. The Fuse Pulse is upon us.”

John hummed deeply. The ‘Fuse Pulse’ was not a bad name for what was about to happen. Several weeks back, during the lead-up to his wedding, the Gamer had gotten a request from the Horned Rat to distract several important figures. That distraction was in reaction to an expected surge in spawning of Natural Barriers, especially around the fuse spots. Caused by the sudden increase of magic in the human population.

It remained unquantifiable just how much power Izha had really poured into the world. To measure that, one would have to make an estimation on just how strong the Lorylim had been when the primordial form of Lyndell had devoured them all. One would then have to adjust that estimation for how much power may have been gained or lost from that point moving towards current day. It was all complicated and it changed nothing about their situation.

The Horned Rat wanted to monopolize as much of the Fuse Pulse as possible. With all of those Natural Barriers came resources that the Illuminati needed to remain militarily competitive with the Greater Empire.

“The beginning of March fundamentally fits well into my schedule,” John said. “As agreed, I will be able to keep Remus and likely the Concord distracted. Not sure if I can entirely draw them away, but I can at least split their attention.”

“After you killed Veridion, Krieg is certain to focus on you over me. You have my thanks, thanks for that,” the Horned Rat remarked in his multi-tonal voice. “Though killing him may have been an ultimately poor move.”

“Because I am diplomatically isolated?” John asked.

“Because he will come back more competent,” the Horned Rat responded.

John inhaled deeply, then let that breath out very slowly. “So Veridion wasn’t just bluffing when talking to Nahoa?” the Gamer asked. “The Concord has its own way to bring back gods?”

The Horned Rat rested the side of his skull head on his knuckles. “Indeed. They have hidden the exact, exact way it works from me quite well. I do, however, know that the gods reborn return in an ‘idealized’ state, purged of the cynicisms of a long life.”

“So that’s what you mean by more competent…” John’s fingers drummed on Metra’s thigh. “Well, we’ll deal with that as it occurs. However it works, it must have energy costs and-or some kind of internal cooldown.”

“Might help soothe your benevolence, my Emperor,” Metra joked. “Knowing that they can revive after we deal with them.”

John let out an unconvinced grunt. Not only did he not have any form of guarantee that this method worked reliably, he also wasn’t too sure if this kind of rebirth could be counted as such. If Veridion came back as an idealized self, did that include a loss of memory? Even if the recollections were retained, how much of the person who emerged was the same as before? He was still killing someone.

“Will you kill Veridion again if you meet him?” the Horned Rat asked.

“Depends on whether or not this ‘idealized’ version is still a massive prick,” John responded. “But not likely, no…”

Metra grinned at him. “But you are thinking about getting your hands on the thing.”

“Bringing Nahoa’s father back would get me so many brownie points with her,” he said plainly. “Though I don’t know how wise it would be. Idealized or not, Huitzilopochtli had his own series of issues, god of sacrifice and all that.” John paused, then returned to the initial topic, “I’ll travel to Sargon’s grave on the first of March, then move over to the parts of Egypt held by the Sultanate under the pretence of meeting with Osman. I will leak that there is something else in the area I want to find during that meeting. Remus should learn of it quick enough that he will come running.”

“A solid scheme,” the Horned Rat approved.

“Isn’t that a bit late?” Metra asked. “We can start leaking things right now?”

“The problem with having as tight an operational security as we do is that any leak will be viewed with suspicion, especially by someone like Remus,” John answered. “Their own seers must be telling them that the Fuse Pulse is coming up. The best we can do is try and split his attention.” He let out a long sigh. “If he doesn’t bite, it is what it is.”

“You have done, done all I could ask for,” the Horned Rat stated.

“Did you ever end up using your Sylkarion, by the way?” John asked suddenly. He had been curious about this for a while. “If not, any chance I can buy it back?”

“What would you use it for?” The Horned Rat tilted his head. “Found any white-haired lass whose name starts with G?”

“Very funny,” John drawled.

“It is no joke, I just observe reality.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off. “No, I just like having something I can use to make someone immortal at hand.”

“You will have to seek your own solution. The object remains in my care. Even if I wanted to give it away, I doubt Norahnon would let me.”

John snorted in amusement. Though Richard was ultimately the most influential third of the triumvirate, it wasn’t as if the other two had no influence whatsoever. No political system ever truly rested on one person alone. Well, no political system of any notable size. “Fine then, keep your secrets.”

“Among my many schemes, this one is not a secret.”

“It’s a reference,” Metra explained. “Lord of the Rings.”

“Never watched or read it.”

John’s eyes widened. “…You know, in all the things I know about you, that one is somehow the most shocking.”

__________________________________________________________________________

After condemning the Horned Rat for not watching the greatest of all trilogies, the meeting ended. ‘Lots of events lining up, but they are nicely spaced out,’ the Gamer thought. ‘Tournament starts in two days, Eliana leaves for Ternate on Monday, then we have a 14-day grinding session at the end of the month, then it’s going to the Middle East in early March and after that the next scheduled event is the ecumenical council in mid-April.’ “I am a busy man,” John complained.

“Are you, Sir?” Fianna’s question was drawled to the point that it couldn’t be read what emotion it was meant to convey initially. The tiger maid was laid on her stomach on one of the foldable loungers they stored in the spa area of the apartment.

John’s hands were gliding over the pale skin of her striped back, spreading a fresh layer of oil. It was not a maid-tenance day, but John wanted to give his scout some special attention before she went out on her next mission. Fianna would be far away from home for a little while, first checking the area in anticipation of Eliana’s arrival and then moving over to the Middle East to do the same there. They wouldn’t meet up with her again until they arrived in Egypt and even then she was going to split fairly quickly again to track down a small lead she had gotten on Judas in France.

John had not mentioned that lead towards the Horned Rat, because the Gamer was 99% certain that the Horned Rat already knew and 50% certain that the god was working with the Betrayer of All in some capacity. It fitted both of them to enter an alliance of convenience for one goal or another. John had no idea what that goal could be, but he also had no idea what either Judas’ or the Horned Rat’s endgame was, if they even had one.

“Very busy,” John insisted, focusing his mind on the pristine example of the female form before him. Working her arms would have been a waste of everyone’s time. Her legs in all of their bio-mechanical glory were another story. John’s hands leapt from her upper back straight to the edge of her knee pits then gently pushed up. Though she was a being of metal twice over, as a Natural Spirit and cyborg, the entirety of her thigh was as juicy as the real thing she had possessed in life.

What kind of moron would make robot thighs that one couldn’t squeeze?

John moved up one thigh, needing both hands to properly grasp it, then the other. Before getting to his favourite part, he poured an extra helping of the expensive oil onto Fianna’s cheeks. The symmetrical globes of female flesh were pale and invited his fingers to sink in by their simple existence. A temptation that the Gamer could not resist.

As he kneaded her ass like dough, Fianna purred, a deeper and less steady sound than when Jane did it. Tigers couldn’t purr like housecats could, but much like her slit pupils, this part of her feline aspects broke with what was accurate in favour of what was aesthetic.

“Want me to…?” John’s finger wandered a little deeper, between the relaxed softness of her thighs.

“Yes, Sir…” Fianna’s plea was quiet, as was the moan that followed when he teased her lower lips with a quick touch.

“Turn around,” he instructed her. Fingering her in this position was possible, but it would be both easier for him and more satisfying for her if he had better access. With all the grace of an entranced cat, she flipped around on the lounger. John’s oiled hands landed gently on her womb tattoo, then journeyed south to the promised land. Two fingers of the left hand curled into her while two of the right rhythmically circled her exposed clit.

Fianna was gasping and sighing in seconds. The sounds were subtle, a different kind of ecstasy compared to the mind-wiping kind that a rough pounding brought about. Even as he rapidly brought her to and then over the edge, her hips barely bucked at all. She was simply too dissolved in the massage to do more than enjoy what he was doing to her.

John’s fingers slowed to nothing while she rode out her orgasm, then he quickly moved to give her a second one. Gasps turned to high-pitched, short-lived cries. After taking advantage of how horny she had been after the prolonged massage, he targeted her g-spot directly. The dual stimulation of the most sensitive spot inside and her clitoris proved too much rapidly. Involuntary spasms made her hips thrust up as pussy juices gushed in long arcs, squirting all the way past the edge of the lounger.

“Good girl,” John complimented her. He did love a woman that came so hard for him. While she was gasping for air, John cleaned his hands with a steamed towel, then got straight back to the massage. Another squirt of expensive oil was soon spread over her flat midriff. “Will you be fine out there?” he asked, worried.

“I’m… not a social animal.” Fianna’s answer was as relaxed as her body, hitching only when he brushed over her breasts. “Time alone suits me. Also, we have instant communications. You do not have to worry, Sir.”

“And yet I will.” John bent down and put a kiss on her forehead. “Remember, you are my love first and my scout second. If you need to compromise your identity to get yourself taken hostage rather than killed, do it.”

“I will, Sir,” Fianna agreed.

It wasn’t the mark of a good spy to prioritize survival over the mission. Alas, Fianna was capable enough that John had to send her out into the field despite this weakness.

That John had gone through with killing Veridion had the advantage that any of his women being taken hostage was that much more likely. It had been likely before, because John had a reputation for loving his women dearly. Even the dullest of sociopaths with power would know that he wasn’t screwing around after he killed a god of the Concord of War for the ‘mere’ transgression of kicking one of his women in the face though.

It was like with every other crime. It wasn’t just the severity of the threatened punishment that deterred someone from acting, but the likelihood of that punishment being applied. John doubted that there were a lot of pirates trying to take Roman senators hostage after Caesar had crucified the lot that had ransomed him.

‘I could ask Romulus about that, actually,’ John thought. ‘If we get the room for a cordial conversation. He may have to shun me in public for a couple of years.’

The consequences of his actions.

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