Gula Invidia: Black Market (XV): Deciphering Traps, And Breaking Chains

  --- Lydia ‘Smith’ ---

  She bit her lip as she watched the door close behind Booker before forcing herself to remember everything she’d seen the man pull off thus far. Which is why after a deep breath she told Beez’el that, “Booker… Booker can handle himself, we need to focus on making an exit for everyone.”

  “Right, he’s a VIP Contractor. He’s got this.” The Inferni nodded confidently, before losing some of said confidence as he asked, “But, uh, how are we getting out of here?”

  She frowned in thought. “This security station should be near an exit right? I mean, we’ve got to be getting close to the surface with all the stairs.”

  “Yeah, the surface would be right there if not for several meters of concrete blocking the entrance.” Beez’el answered with a thumb over his shoulder. “Smiles might have enough firepower to blast a hole out this way but I sure as fuck don’t.”

  She remembered the way they’d first entered the pit -more specifically all of the traps lining that path- before turning back to the graffiti on the wall. “We need to figure out how this spell works or they’ll kill us on our way out. You said V might know how to get it working?”

  “She might not be a master of magic, but she knows more than me.” Beez’el shrugged, before yelling “V, need you to magic something!” towards the door.

  It took a few minutes for the pink inferni to enter the security office, during which Lydia was able to take a better look at the security screens. Namely the one that was monitoring the fight pit Booker had gone and where she noted that, “That is a lot of bodies…”

  “Can’t say Smiles didn’t do his job.” V agreed, looking over her shoulder. “Looks like a fucking massacre down there, even by Infernus standards.”

  “How, uh…” She licked her lips, nervously eyeing the small army. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to wake up?”

  While she was aware that people didn’t stay dead when killed, she’d never been morbid enough to see how long it actually took for people to get back up, nor had she ever been in the place to figure out how long she’d been down for when- (Her head hurt so much, and her thoughts were so… fuzzy…)

  She clenched her eyes shut, before V was speaking as the older woman answered, “-how much sin they have on them. Can’t say for sure since the few sinners I do talk with aren’t in a hurry to die even if it won’t stick.”

  V looked towards the wall of graffiti, her fingers near it with a faint glow but never quite touching it. “This the thing you wanted me to see?”

  “Yeah, we were… we were hoping you could figure out how to make this work since you actually know how to use magic.” She tried to explain. “If what Booker said earlier is true then… this is probably the control panel for all of the security in this place.”

  “Meaning we need to disable it if want out of here, collar or no collar.” V nodded, getting the idea as she continued to examine the spell work. “It doesn’t look too advanced, a lot of it is actually pretty basic, it’s just that there is a lot of overlapping stuff stitched together… Each paint color is a separate spell but they’re also all connected… It’s a pretty common street style but… this is also a lot denser than tying a shield and explosive to a door…”

  “So if any street hack can pull it off then you should be able to rip apart, right?” Beez’el asked from the side.

  “Ripping it apart is easy, ripping it apart without blowing up this place to pieces is a bit harder.” V answered with a look of concentration.

  She remembered the Inferni from earlier, as well as the one they’d found up here, “And if we want to blow this place to pieces?”

  “I meant this room we’re in, we’re definitely burning this place down once we get everyone out.” V assured her.

  “Oh, in that case. Have fun!” Beez’el called as he left the room.

  “Asshole.” The other inferni huffed, continuing to fiddle with the writing on the wall as Lydia continued to look for a key to the Inferni’s collars.

  Something that did little to distract her when she noticed Booker being shoved out of the room he’d been dragged into and down a hall towards some dark corner of the club without any cameras.

  (It’s Booker he can handle himself.) She told herself once more as she got back to her search.

  --- Booker H. Freeman ---

  After a moment of thought, he realized that he was going to need more information. The mystery of the man before him, too much for him to ignore. Especially given how there was something about this situation that was… familiar even if he couldn’t quite remember what that was.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Which is why instead of plotting for violence as he tended to prefer, he instead leaned his aching body against the wall, gave the bear sinner his best smile, and with something half remembered asked, “Oh, come now chum, what has you oh so glum this wonderful evening?”

  The bear sinner froze, eyes locked onto Booker and face oh so pale, as if he’d seen a ghost.

  (Lust: He knows us, and not like Ms. Leslie. He knows us personally. Whatever memory we’re pulling at… it’s important to him.)

  (Envy: …)

  (Sloth: The question is if it’s a good sort of personal or the kind that has you killing a man with your bare hands.)

  (Envy: The former, going off his reactions… he regrets fighting us.)

  (Pride: Still, we can’t let him know about our current lack of memories. Not until we know more about our relationship with him.)

  (Greed: Give nothing up.)

  (Gluttony: Even if you have to fight tooth and claw.)

  (Wrath: Perhaps not that far.)

  “Booker it… it really is you isn’t it?” The bear sinner whispered almost breathlessly.

  “Well, there has only ever been one of me.” He grinned, opening his arms wide before making a show of giving the man in front of him a once over.

  (Pride: His appearance is a touch unkempt, expected of a drunkard but not of someone we personally associate with.)

  (Greed: His clothes are faded. They do their job but little else. Barely worth the money in our pocket and we’re bordering broke.)

  (Envy: That guilt in his eyes is growing worse since we confirmed who we are.)

  (Lust: But there’s something else there… a spark of hope and joy perhaps?)

  (Sloth: Definitely something that’ll make this whole thing easier.)

  With a faint twist to his grin he told the man, “You’ve clearly had better days than today.”

  The sinner gave Booker a wry grin of his own. “Heh, it’s not every day I get my teeth kicked in by the Black Bayou Butcher.”

  (Pride: A moniker of ours, but one distinctly different from ‘The Rabid Red-Eyed Rabbit’.)

  (Lust: A different title means a different mask, a different role, and a story we haven’t heard! A whole new legend to discover!)

  (Envy: The way he said it though… He isn’t scared of the ‘Butcher’…)

  With a chuckle, he rubbed at his jaw. “As I recall you threw the first punch. I just threw the last.”

  The bear sinner winced. “Yeah… I did… didn’t I…”

  A silence fell between them, the other man clearly holding something back.

  (Envy: Like I said, he feels guilty for what he did. No need to twist the knife…)

  (Lust: Unless of course we want to know why he’s working with our adversary instead of us?)

  (A valid point.) He agreed, thinking it over for a moment. “You know I find myself curious as to how you found yourself in the employ of a… slaver, not a development I was expecting.”

  After all, that felt like one of the few lines he wouldn’t ever cross himself, if his memories and morality were anything to go off of. Meaning it stood to reason the same could be said of any of his true associates. (The ones I haven’t killed of course.)

  Rather than being offended, the other man let out a chuckle. “Of course that’s why you’re here…” The sinner sighed, looking exhausted. “I’m not here by choice… I was… I was in a bad place and I… I made a bad deal…” The bear tapped his collar. “I’m as much a slave as anyone else they’ve collared… They just treat me a little better because I’m their biggest gun…”

  “You haven’t tried to break the Deal binding you?” He asked, a curious tilt to his head.

  There was another sigh. “Don’t forget, despite how long we ran together I was never a voodoo boy like you. The magic I’ve got is just what I’ve picked up while stuck down here. When I saw what they were doing to the others… I tried to rip the collar off… it didn’t go well for me…”

  “I see…” He gave the collar a considering look.

  (Envy: I should be able to break it. Free him.)

  (Sloth: Is that wise?)

  (Pride: Even should we fight, we fight as free men not slaves. We deserve no less.)

  “If you wish I can undo that collar.” He offered more for his own self-respect than any true compassion.

  “Of course you can… even a hundred years later you can still fix my problems…”

  The other man stared at him for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. “Fuck it. Even if you’re just pretending to be Booker, better than working for this asshole.”

  With that bit said, the sinner offered his neck seemingly uncaring for what happened next.

  (Sloth: Sometimes you can only pick the best worst option and hope it works out…)

  (Pride: After all, it’s better to die a man than live a slave.)

  “Hold still for a moment.” He told the sinner as he reached out with his hand, small sparks of black electricity along his flesh. “I can’t promise this will be painless but I can promise it’s better than the alternative.”

  Carefully he twisted his fingers through the air as if playing a piano, each note shifting the spellsong of the collar ever so slightly as bit by bit he worked out just how it operated.

  (Envy: Three core functions. Lock, dissolving the clasp when attached. Tighten, to the point of decapitation. And lastly a listener of sorts, sleeping until something interrupts its lullaby. Meaning any attempt to tamper with it will decapitate the wearer.)

  (Sloth: If people wake up when they die, they must put a second collar on them before they wake up.)

  (Envy: They keep them chained and collared, until they learn pain and death…)

  (Wrath: Chains we shall break.)

  It took a fair few notes, practically a Rhapsody in Blue, to get the spellwork to bend to his will. More skill than power, as the latter would simply set the thing off before he could finish.

  (Pride: Still nothing that can stand in the way of one such as ourself.)

  “Now then, what say we go have a nice little chat with your former employer?” He smiled.

  The bear sinner stared at the collar in his hands for a moment before slowly letting out a laugh that echoed all around them. One that only ended when he turned to Booker with a pair of violently violet eyes and gave him a fanged smile.

  Patreon Thanks

  Do you want to use Sinful boost for the coming fight? You don’t need it per say, but… if you want to leave an impression~