Absolute power.

  Master Haephastus’ words continued to haunt Jin for the next few days. The echo of ‘Absolute Power’ sat heavy in his mind, a sharp contrast to the mundane reality he now faced. Though he was not idle – spending hours hunched over a desk trying to draft the blueprints and legal paperwork for his proposed school – he had only managed to produce a single, half-smudged and half-hearted work on a page before his patience wore thin. For a man used to the life-and-death adrenaline of a RIFT, brain work without physical exertion was its own kind of torture. The kind he always ran from.

  “Absolute power, huh?” Jin muttered, staring at the scribbled sheet with a blank face.

  “What are you talking about, Jin?” Old Man Sid grunted from across the room. “You’ve been in my office for days trying to write that bloody paperwork, and all you’ve got to show for it is a half-arsed one-page mess. And now you’re going senile in my ear?”

  “Nah. I’m being reminded of a certain old man's advice,” Jin said, stretching his stiff limbs and cracking his knuckles. The ‘pop’ sound gave him a cathartic release.

  Old Man Sid peered over his reading glasses. “Oh? Did I remind you of anything?”

  “Not you, Sid. Someone else. Older.” Jin stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. “Hey. You got time, old friend? Let’s get out of this hellhole.”

  “Time? What the fuck are you on about? Are you both senile and blind now?” Old Man Sid gestured to the mountain of reports on his desk. “I’m an administrator now, not a tourist.”

  “Fine. Whatever. If you’re not coming, I’ll head out myself.”

  “Bye, Jin,” Old Man Sid said, immediately returning to his task. “Oh, and while you’re out playing, buy some groceries, will you? We’re out of everything at the house.”

  Jin replied by tossing a middle finger over his shoulder. “Get a wife, Sid. Oh, wait! You already did. Should I call Vivian and tell her to move in? I can still smell her perfume on your shirt. Did you two finally–”

  “Get out already, you bastard!”

  A heavy pen hissed through the air. Jin didn't even turn around; he caught the projectile mid-air with a casual flick of his wrist and slid it into his pocket. “Thanks, Sid. I’ll need this to draw Viv a map to your bedroom.”

  He slammed the door shut just as a chair crashed against the other side, followed by a muffled string of vitriol and curses. Jin walked down the hallway laughing, though the humour didn't quite reach his eyes. To him, paperwork was more terrifying than a Boss Monster.

  As he moved towards the lifts, he took in the familiar, sterile and plain surroundings. Old Man Sid’s office was located on the seventh floor beneath the SeComm HQ, a windowless bunker that overlooked nothing but bright-lighted hallways. It was a far cry from Ironshield’s place with its panoramic city views. If one could excuse the pile of mess and sweat-stained clothes littering the floor.

  Jin hit the button for the lifts. As he waited, he couldn’t help but notice the updated floor directory on the wall. The Cleaner Department was expanding. Seven years ago, B20 was the deepest the facility went, but as the RIFTs became more frequent and the loot more voluminous, the HQ had grown deeper to compensate. They were currently carving out a new basement level at B24.

  When Jin took the lift, it brought him towards B5. For security purposes, the facility used a staggered lift system; you couldn't go from the deepest depths to the surface in one shot. Or vice versa.

  Even from inside the lift, the air began to change. The clean, sharp fragrance of the antiseptic used on the admin floors faded, replaced by a heavy, cloying scent of iron, mixed with the unmistakable stench of organic decay.

  B5: The Organic Processing Department. All 100,000 square feet of it.

  “Oi! Careful there! That thing might be dead, but its claw is still sharp!” a Cleaner shouted across the floor.

  A heavy automated tram whizzed past Jin, carrying a mountain of lizard-looking monsters. Their scales were dull in death, but their jagged claws still jutted out from lifeless limbs, threatening to snag anyone who stood too close. This was a side of the industry most people would never lay eyes on. Players saw the glory; civilians saw the magic and heroes. All of them didn't see the processing. As if the blood, gore and hard work behind it didn’t exist.

  Yet, here was ‘that’ world.

  Suspended from motorised hooks on overhead rails were the huge, mutated carcasses – some tripling the size of a grown man – as they creaked towards the butchery stations, located at the far side of the floor.

  There, Cleaners in blood-stained rubber aprons waited with chainsaws and long knives. Some were already working on the remains, their saws shrieked as they sliced through reinforced bone and chitinous armour, sending sparks and bits of marrow flying. At another row of tables, a group was busy with harvesting the gallbladders of a venom-type drake, their hands held steady as they handled the toxic sacs. On the opposite side was another group skinning dead goblins; their hands moved like an expert tanner’s while their mouths cursed like sailors.

  It was at that very station that Jin learned the tricks of the trade which led him to his infamous nickname – Dr Frankenstein. He had spent years butchering and reattaching every carcass that crossed his table.

  He remembered one afternoon years ago, standing where these men now laboured. With a chainsaw in his hands, his task was to butcher a wyvern hanging from the railing, only for the beast’s bloated gut to burst, spilling its putrid contents over him. What was supposed to be an easy job turned foul. Worse, for the whole week after, Eleana complained of the stench and refused to sit near him at dinner.

  Across the floor were rows of enclosed rooms. There, selected Cleaners divided piles of rare herbs before delivery to the Alchemical Unit of the Cleaner Department. A far cry from the bloodied mess. Nonetheless, the work was still harrowing in its own way. This section was the closest to the exchange lift.

  “Frank? Going home?”

  Jin turned. Ritchie, the Cleaner he used to mentor seven years ago, was walking towards him. The boy had vanished, replaced by a rugged man with thick forearms and a confident stride. He was now the supervisor in charge of the butchering process.

  “Not really. Got to buy some groceries first,” Jin replied, leaning against the wall. “Been busy lately?”

  Ritchie wiped a streak of monster blood from his forehead and smiled. “When was it never busy? We’ve got new shipments coming in soon. Those damn White Ravens have been so busy clearing RIFTs around Neo-Tokyo that we’re drowning in carcasses. Thank God you sent those boys to us.”

  “How’s Saki and her crew holding up?”

  “The leader’s a fast learner, but the rest?” Ritchie cracked a grin, glancing towards a group of recruits hauling crates across the floor. “Mules are smarter than them lot. They don't even know the difference between a Mimic-Fern and a Glowing Sunset Fern.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Jin grinned. “And you do?”

  “After that first time, my voice changed to sound exactly like Boss Sid?” Ritchie said, tapping his temple. “I’ve memorised every goddamn guidebook in the building. Never again am I going to sound like that cranky old man.”

  Jin laughed. He had been there when it happened; the look on Old Man Sid's face when a teenage Ritchie had addressed him in the veteran Cleaner’s own gravelly voice was a memory he’d cherish forever.

  Seeing how Ritchie had grown brought a quiet sense of accomplishment to Jin. He might have only mentored the fresh-faced leader of the new generation of Cleaners for a short while, but he knew the power of relentless dedication. And unbridled motivation.

  Furthermore, he wouldn't let Saki’s crew return to their old lives. All twenty-six of them were being drilled in the grit of the Cleaner trade, while Take, the only Player among the gang, was being personally hammered into shape by Ironshield. One way or another, Jin would make sure that the Saitama Mad Angels' ways of wreaking havoc everywhere they rode were long gone.

  But seeing the trams and the logistics of B5 reminded Jin of his own limitations. He couldn't keep relying on Saki to ferry him around Neo-Tokyo like a chauffeur. He had transformed the gang from hoodlums into productive citizens, but now he needed his own independence.

  After saying goodbye to Ritchie, Jin stepped into the exchange lift bound for the main lobby. After passing through a few more security checkpoints – he was a familiar face to the guards, but protocol was still protocol – he turned to the exit, his mask pulled up, and his jacket’s hood lowered. He checked his phone. The reward money – all three million dollars – from Chairman Heihachi was still unused.

  “I should get a custom job bike. Been a while since I got one,” he mused. He imagined a machine with a full fairing, something sleek and fast enough to outrun even Saki’s impressive beast of a bike. “Maybe the latest–”

  The security door opened into the reception area with a soft ‘ting’, and Jin's internal monologue was instantly squashed by a sudden roar of noise. It came from the main counters – a collective, frantic commotion that didn't sound like the usual ego-driven Player disputes. A massive crowd had formed, and the air was thick with a celebratory, feverish energy.

  “What could be happening there?” Jin muttered to himself. He stood at the edge of the lobby, peering towards the crowd. “Is someone famous or some damn celebrity making their way inside?”

  The air in the SeComm lounge was electric. Usually, this place was solemn and professional with the occasional heat brought by envious Players, but right now, it felt like a red-carpet event.

  “Wow. You’re so pretty, girl. Where are you from?” a voice boomed from the centre of the mob.

  “Who cares where she’s from? As long as she’s here, it's all that matters!” another shouted, followed by a chorus of whistles that made Jin’s skin crawl.

  “Yeah. Little miss. Do you need any help? You can always ask mine,” a burly warrior flexed his arm, the light reflecting off his polished greaves.

  “Your muscles ain’t worth it, muscle-head,” a mage sneered, pushing him aside. “You need brains to navigate Neo-Tokyo. And brains, I got lots.”

  The more Jin overheard their desperate posturing, the more he felt a familiar sense of dread. He reached up, checking that his hood was secure and his mask was straight. He pitied the one that attracted these perverts, knowing all too well the chaos that followed anyone with fame, looks, or both in this world. And the last thing he wanted was to fall into the splash zone. Quickening his pace, he kept his eyes on the main exit, hoping to slip out like a shadow.

  “Oho? Is that someone I’ve been waiting for?”

  The cheerful voice was clear as a bell, cutting through the low-brow chanting of the crowd. Jin froze. Against his better judgment, he stopped and turned.

  The crowd parted as a silhouette wearing a backward 'NY' baseball cap pushed through the sea of testosterone. As their eyes met, Jin felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a genuine smile.

  Elise Carter.

  The petite brunette was dragging a massive piece of luggage that looked like it weighed more than she did. She traipsed towards him, ignoring the trail of dropped jaws behind her. With her cap, a tight tank top, and high-waist denim shorts that highlighted a figure most idols would kill for, she was a vibrant splash of colour against the boring seriousness of the headquarters. She looked far different and also, far more dangerous to his peace of mind than he remembered.

  “You know, I think you look better with that wonderful, braided beard, Frank,” she said, her eyes dancing with mischief as she reached him.

  “And that’s supposed to be the first thing you say to me after we meet, Elise?” Jin replied, his voice muffled by the mask, but his tone was warm.

  “Nope! I’m supposed to do this first!”

  She didn't hesitate. She let go of her luggage handle and launched herself at him. Jin’s instincts, honed by years of combat, kicked in; he caught her petite frame with a firm hold, bracing for the impact. Before he could say a word, she planted a couple of enthusiastic kisses on his masked cheeks.

  Elise’s face flushed, her warmth spread on Jin’s skin. Around them, the atmosphere turned toxic. The onlookers’ gazes shifted from admiration for the girl to pure, unadulterated jealousy for the man in the hood.

  Not wanting to let a riot break out in the lobby, Jin didn't put her down. He hitched her higher, grabbed the handle of her luggage, and sprinted out of the SeComm headquarters.

  “Oh my. Never thought I’d be swept away like this, Frank. Hehe. Oh, you’re such a hero,” she teased once they hit the pavement.

  “And I’d never thought I’d be doing this in broad daylight,” Jin replied, finally setting her down. He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them. “Tell me, Elise. What in the world are you doing in Neo-Tokyo?”

  Elise let out a dramatic pout, crossing her arms. “Not telling you.”

  “Oh? If that’s the case, then I’ll see you later. I've got work to do–”

  “Oi, Frank! You big meanie!” Elise squealed, lunging forward to tug on his jacket as he tried to walk away. “I came all the way from the States for you, and you’re leaving me just like that?”

  Jin heaved a heavy sigh; the ‘Absolute Power’ thoughts from earlier gave way to the absolute headache of social obligations.

  “Alright, alright. Shesh. What happened to you? It wasn't that long ago that I returned from ACPS. You never used to act like this.”

  “That was then. This is now,” she replied with a cryptic wink.

  Another sigh followed. “You win. So, coffee? Tea? Or something else?”

  Her smile turned bright. “Hehe. I’ll have a strawberry parfait, please.”

  They found a quiet cafe nearby, a small oasis frequented by teenagers. But the peace lasted exactly as long as it took for the waiter to set the parfait down. Before Elise could even pick up her spoon, a red-haired fury launched herself at their table.

  “Who’s this bitch?!” Emilia screamed.

  The cafe went silent. Patrons ducked behind their menus as Emilia, the Lowenhald princess, stood trembling with rage. “I’ve never known you to be such a playboy, Frank!”

  Elise didn't even flinch. She leaned back, resting her chin on her hand, her eyes twinkling with a dark delight. “Oh my. Who’s this? Your lover, Frank?”

  Emilia’s cheeks turned a shade of red that matched her hair. She tried to maintain her noble composure, but Elise was a veteran of psychological warfare.

  “Have you slept with Frank before?” Elise asked, as a coy smile appeared on her face.

  “I-I-I…” Emilia stammered. Jin swore he could see smoke coming out of the girl’s ears.

  “You didn’t? Oh my. Hehe. I did, you know,” Elise lied with the grace of a professional conwoman. “He’s a wonderful companion. And so warm, too. Right, Frank?”

  Jin stared at his own food, refusing to engage in the madness. “If you count putting your head on my shoulder while pretending to sleep as 'sleeping with me,' then yes.”

  “Y-You dated her, Frank?” Emilia’s voice cracked. To Jin’s horror, her eyes began to well up. She was a Star Rookie and with a noble background, capable of amazing feats on the battlefield, but in this moment, she was nothing more than a frustrated kid who felt left behind. “I-I thought that… that…”

  Seeing the tears, Jin realised the situation was about to become a public disaster. He stood up, placed a firm hand on Emilia’s shoulder, and pushed her into the seat beside him. With the same clinical precision he used to stitch hides, he scooped up a spoonful of the parfait and fed it to her before she could protest.

  “If you consider what Elise did as 'sleeping with me,' then this would be a kiss. Right, Elise?”

  Elise nodded with a solemn expression, though her eyes were screaming with laughter. “Yup. As much as I hate to admit it, that is still a kiss. Indirect as it may be.”

  The move worked. Emilia’s temper evaporated, replaced by a deep, stunned blush. Jin didn't move his arm; he kept the spoon anchored in her mouth, his warmth grounding her. Emilia sat frozen, feeling his breath near her nape, her heart hammering against her ribs.

  “Now that you two have stopped playing the fool and embarrassing yourselves – and me – in public, let’s get on with the introductions,” Jin said, his voice sounding monotonous. “Emilia, this is Elise. A friend from my time at ACPS. Elise, this is Emilia. A Player I partied with recently.”

  He finished his parfait and stood up from his seat.

  “Now, you two can have your girly talk. I’ve got things to do.”

  Despite his best attempts, the girls wouldn’t let him go. With Elise clinging to his left arm and Emilia to his right, his plans for a solo trip to the bike shop were dead, buried by cheerful chirps of two ‘thorns’ by his sides.

  However, there was one place that both Jin and Emilia had business in – Athena’s Auction House. Specifically, both the Forge and the Keep. Elise, with nothing else to do, decided by herself to impose the two.