CWD: GA ~ Thirty-Three

Nacho suddenly knew he was awake, but he didn’t open his eyes right away. Crave had taken him, he remembered that, but he couldn’t let the Assassin know that his prisoner was armed and extremely dangerous just yet. Later in the Juxtaposition, forcing a prisoner to empty their Storage Slots became routine. But early on? People forgot about them, if they had even discovered them yet. Crave had made a mistake, and it was only a matter of time until Nacho capitalized on it.

Unable to sense anyone nearby, he cautiously opened his eyes and took stock. He was tied to a tree, unsurprisingly located in the middle of his enemy’s camp. He was fortunate to have been tied close enough to a campfire that he hadn’t frozen his fingers. That would’ve been a problem. He was still in the forests of the AKC—he recognized a sickamore tree with black goo leaching into the branches and turning the yellow leaves the color of ink.

The cold sun had risen, and Nacho couldn’t help squinting against the glare. The air was chill and felt damp, though it hadn’t rained so far. A woman with short, dark hair, outfitted in ornate black leather armor, eased into view and called out, “Crave, he’s awake.”

Nacho had heard stories of Suzy Blacke, also known as Red Suzy Blacke. An Elementalist with a bow, she crafted her own fire arrows; a powerful combination she’d paid a massive number of Evaluation Points for… or so the story went. She was even better known for being a vindictive killer that Crave had needed to personally put down. That act had been seen as heroism, and solidified his ‘good guy’ persona.

Crave was sitting with Hogan and Whitney, but they’d picked up a dozen other people and added them to the party. This realization jogged Nacho’s memory; they were the original thirteen, the very earliest members of Final Victory.

Nacho squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his head and remember what had happened the night prior. Who was the guy in the toga and baseball cap? Had he mentioned something about time travel?

The memories of the night before were hazy, but Nacho felt a sharp spike of fear. Had Brie and Reuben survived the fight? He checked the System settings and saw that he was still a part of The Dinner Party, which still had three members. That made him feel worlds better. If either had died, they would’ve been removed from the party.

However, they weren’t close enough to transfer credits, which meant that Crave had managed to whisk him pretty far away. The Assassin strolled languidly into Nacho’s line of sight and squatted down. He had classic good looks, brown hair, and a solid jawline. At some point, he’d lost the bad suit and picked up an Assassin’s black leather armor with some magical chainmail thrown in. It was good stuff. He also had found a scimitar for slashing and a long dagger for backstabbing—and the feather, in a special little holster on his hip.

Crave smiled at him with a pensive look in his eyes. “I don’t know who you are, exactly, but I do know you’re either important now, or you’re going to be important. I’m Crave.”

“Richard Crave.” Nacho grinned at the shocked expression that crossed the Assassin’s face. “Yeah, I know who you are, Rich. I also know you’re going to regret most of what you’ve had to do so far.”

The man grew pale and had a knife out and pressed against Nacho’s throat in a flash. “You know my first name? Who in the abyss are you?”

“Eli Naches, but you can call me Nacho. As to why I’m important? I can cook.” Nacho played one of his cards right away. “You have passive intuition, right? I’ve heard stories about you.”

Crave snapped his fingers and waved someone over. “Hogan, cut him loose. We should get going. His friends are sure to come after him, but I think we can explain to them that things are different now. Nacho is with us, and they won’t be much of a threat so long as we’re holding his reins.”

Hogan slammed a massive sword into the back of the tree, cutting Nacho free by destroying the rope. Nacho considered making his escape attempt right then and there, but he’d only wind up with a flaming arrow in his back. Red Suzy Blacke was already looking at him with a gleam in her eye, clearly hoping he would try.

As for fighting his way out of their camp? Hardly. Hogan already had good armor and plate mail, including heavy silver sabatons. With no small amount of satisfaction, Nacho felt confident that Brie’s were better.

Whitney was in his own armor and he carried a round shield. The guy had a shield Skill that kept him safe, and an oversized sword of his own. Nacho wondered how much of their weapons and armor had been looted from their raids. Probably most of them.

A rat-faced man Nacho didn’t recognize skittered forward, nervous and twitching. He had sickly pink eyes and thinning dark hair. “Hey, Boss, the dungeon is about four hours to the south. We should get going.”

That statement stirred Nacho’s memory. This was another guy that died early: the Dungeon Rat, Paul Rizzo. Again, Nacho had only heard stories. Rizzo had gained a boon as well, a potent one: the ability to find dungeons. He’d been a rogue, but like Suzy, he wouldn’t live to see the summer. At least he hadn’t in Nacho’s three-year vision. Hogan tied Nacho’s arms behind him, and they started moving.

Crave walked next to him. “Okay, Nacho, I have a vague idea about you. Well, enough for my benefactor to make sure I nabbed you. How do you know so much about me?”

“I have a Patron myself, and a boon.” Nacho wasn’t going to tell Crave everything, but he had a couple questions his former boss could answer. Nacho also had a plan forming between his ears. Crave and his cronies had a lot of resources at hand, and a man with money was likely to spend it. “Hey, Dick, you haven’t happened to see your Patron visit you in the gaming system, have you?”

“No, just a message.” Crave frowned at him. “Also, addressing me as Crave is what will be happening. Not Richard—not Rich—and definitely not… that last one.”

They walked on, Hogan not letting Nacho drag his feet. The bruiser kept him moving at a fast clip while Crave marched with his left hand on the pommel of his scimitar, eyeing Nacho curiously from time to time. “You don’t seem very upset about being kidnapped.”

“You didn’t kidnap me to kill me.” Nacho kept his eyes on the ground to avoid tripping on anything. With his wrists bound behind his back, a fall might snap his shoulder. “I’m thinking you watched me cook my deer meat out in the open, then saw those other people walk up, and then waited. The Bove attack was the perfect excuse for you to rush in. Shouldn’t have killed Jimmy, though. People liked Jimmy.”

“I don’t like killing,” Crave spat defensively.

“Probably shouldn’t have chosen the Assassin class, then.” Nacho laughed mirthlessly as Richard flinched. His class was supposed to be a secret.

“Killing has been necessary to get where we are today. Hard times call for hard decisions.” Same old Crave, casually justifying things that most people couldn’t.

Nacho kept up with Crave as they walked, as he didn’t like being shoved by Hogan. “Listen, Crave, your party is more well-equipped than the people I was with before. I have to say, though, they were happy to invest generously in my amazing ability. I hope you’re willing to do the same.”

“What can you do?”

Nacho smiled widely. “I can cook actual food.”

Whitney giggled like the wormy jerk he was. “But we can buy food from the Store, genius. We don’t need to cook, and the trays make great Frisbees!”

Hogan huffed at his friend to quiet the man down. “Store food tastes like my grandmother’s week-old leftovers.”

Nacho turned slightly to appraise the two dirtbags. “Grandmother’s leftovers don’t include buffs. I can make magic food, or I will, once I get a few more recipes and level up my skills.”

Rizzo laughed like a hyena having a conniption. “Well, that’s good; me and this other crew found a kitchen in the top level of this dungeon we’re going to. Looks like we can have Cool Ranch here whip us up something special.”

Nacho winked at the rogue. “Cool Ranch, instead of Nacho Cheese. Funny. Paul Rizzo, you’re a laugh-riot.”

“How do you know my name?” The ratty little man scowled darkly, all traces of humor evaporating as he lunged at the cook. “How? Start talking! I’ll cut you!”

“Magic, Rizzo. Magic.” Nacho waggled his eyebrows as the rogue was held back by the others. “If you see a Wight-Tail or a ghoul deer, bring it down. Venison is my specialty. Pancakes too, but you’ll have to splurge for your own syrup.”

Crave studied Nacho closely. “Out of all the things you could’ve chosen, you chose to be a cook? Not a Warrior, not a Wizard, but a chef? What is wrong with you?”

“Patron. Boon. What can I say? When a god-like entity suggests something, you generally do what they tell you to do.” Nacho casually waved off the questioning.

Crave obviously wasn’t so willing to drop the subject. “Do you think the Patrons are gods?”

“They created the Juxtaposition. They can give boons. They power Warlocks. If they aren’t gods, they at least have power to a godlike degree.” Knowing he would get farther by talking as little as possible, Nacho let silence finish that thought.

Crave sighed after a moment’s hesitation and opened up to his captive. “I keep thinking about Fourtuna, my Patron. I think the Patrons are gambling on us, that they are picking favorites, and weighing the odds. Some people get boons, while others get killed, and I bet there are betting pools right now over what is happening to us.”

“Well, boss, we’re going to win,” Hogan growled and hefted his sword. “The Patrons should put all their money on our party, because we’re ruthless, and we’re going to do anything it takes to own this thing.”

“Not anything,” Crave ordered firmly. “Nacho is right. We didn’t need to kill… was it Jimmy?”

“I got thirty credits for Jimmy—for him, and for the credits he had,” Red Suzy Blacke called out. “Not many monsters are worth that.”

Crave’s face wrinkled deeply. “We have to come up with some kind of code of conduct, or we’ll turn on each other. People are more powerful together than any one is alone. At this point, we have some good armor and weapons, and we’re going to hit the Chaos Coop hard. We’ll do some deep diving, and we’ll get a ton of credits for the kills. According to Rizzo, the dungeon contains a whole flock of these chicken-bats we can kill.”

It was a little odd for Nacho to be traveling with the Final Victory Guild at their beginnings. Crave had left out the part about murdering and stealing from other people when he, Hogan, and Whitney had first created their Victory Party. However, Crave had said in the past that the Chicken Coop of Chaos was what had earned them credits faster than anything. The thirteen raiders used to divide up into three groups and go on killing sprees, leveling themselves up, finding magic items, and generally making a bundle.

Crave would eventually stumble onto a guild charter that he didn’t even need to pay for, and others would see his power. People would join the Final Victory Guild by the hundreds, then the thousands.

Nacho wasn’t surprised to see that the meadow where the old wooden shack sat was the same meadow where the Final Victory’s Guildhall would one day stand. Nacho experienced a moment where his head spun a bit, and then he spotted a ghoul deer grazing on the dying green grasses.

Crave’s people made short work of the monster, a massive thing the size of a horse, with a rotted head and super sharp antlers of an unsettling polished black. The single beast would be enough to feed Crave’s dozen raiders, but Nacho wasn’t going to use his HungerCry Knives; or eat the nasty meat it provided. He was going to keep those secrets until he really needed them.

Under the watchful eye of the others, Nacho used his old knife to butcher the ghoul deer once the party had taken it down, removing the rotting head and casting it aside with the legs, which were also a little decayed. The thighs, haunches, and ribs were thankfully all intact. He was provided some water, and they were once more moving.

Rizzo talked nonstop, explaining how he had risked the Chicken Coop of Chaos with other dungeoneers in the past week, before they had joined up with Crave, and had good information on it. The top floor had been completely cleared of the chicken-bats, and they entered it as soon as they arrived.

The Guild Master promised to have Hogan and Whitney carry deer meat down for Nacho later as he escorted the cook to the kitchen himself. The galley was connected to a barracks, where the Tier zero chicken-bats had been roosting. Nacho wasn’t sure what a chicken-bat looked like, since all of the previous kills had long ago melted away. He recalled running across some hamburger-bats later on, which mimicked the shape of a Whopper, but with wings.

Once they had advanced through the first empty floor of the dungeon, Crave led Nacho into the kitchen proper. Entering the doorway with Crave, Nacho thought he might faint for a second. He was standing in the very room where Crave had killed him for political gain. First, the magical feather, then the knife to the heart… then the Probability Vision had ended.

In the three years they’d had together, the guild had made certain upgrades to the kitchen—knocked out the wall into the old barracks, completely removed the useless stoves and ovens, and built a long rectangular table. Currently, the kitchen was a rudimentary space of rock and metal, mainly housing a little cooktop above a fire bin with an oven next to it.

Dusty firewood was stacked next to the stove, and a long row of shelves held a mixture of pots, pans, dull knives and other implements that belonged in a kitchen. That didn’t include the cast-off armor, a broken shield, and a few swords scattered here and there. The Patrons had evidently added a couple of cobwebby skeletons just for fun. A square table with four chairs sat in the middle, but one wall was dominated by a long counter filled with cutting boards.

A water pump sat in the nearest corner, so Nacho walked over and gave the handle a few pumps. At first, coppery water that smelled like swamp gushed out, but it was soon followed by crystal clear water that swirled down a drain in the basin. Nacho would still have to boil it to process out the bacteria brimming with Putrid Mana, but that would be easy with a big pot.

It was ironic to him that this room had become his first actual kitchen.

Crave watched Nacho’s face closely. As always, his old Guild Master was quick. “I’m thinking this is better than the campfires you were cooking on.”

Nacho forced himself into an outwardly pleasant mood as he turned and nodded to the Assassin. “It is. I’ll get started on ghoul deer steaks and pancakes, and I’ll load everything up with my cooking Magic. But like I said, I’m going to need credits, a lot of credits, to upgrade my abilities and to keep up with cooking. Thirteen people is a lot. I’m only used to cooking for three.”

Suspicion clouded the leader’s eyes. “But you were camped with a couple dozen back up at that hilltop. That was substantially more than three.”

Nacho met his gaze steadily. “That was my first night with those people. I didn’t know them at all. In fact, when I woke up tied to that tree, I thought they had betrayed us at first. No, I was just traveling with a couple of strangers for a long time, but no one I really cared about.”

The story came easily, because when the truth could destroy his life, lies were all he had left.

Nacho was playing a dangerous game. He wanted to use Crave and his credits to upgrade himself, and he wanted to do it quickly, but he had to escape before Reuben and Brie came to save him. Hogan and Whitney were tough, and with Suzy and her flaming archery skills to back them up? The fight could easily turn against Nacho and his people in a blink.

For a second, Nacho actually considered joining Crave, until Crave snapped his fingers and Hogan came forward with ankle-cuffs and chains they had bought from the Store. The big bruiser *clicked* one of the metal loops around Nacho’s leg and attached it to an iron ring set into the floor. Once he was satisfied the chain was secure, he stood there with his arms crossed, glaring at Nacho.

“We’ll see if you cook well enough for us to invest in you,” Crave informed him indifferently. “If you do, I’m sure you’ll find a home with us. We have big plans, Nacho. I hope you see that, because for now, I’m pretty sure you’re not telling us very much of the truth. Besides, there’s something… familiar about you. I can’t put my finger on it.”

The leader idly drew his dagger to toy with as he spoke. “There’s also another problem.”

“What’s that?” Nacho grumped as he tried to get comfortable.

“As you know, I have this boon. I can sense if things are dangerous or… useful. With you? Well, son… you’re both. A whole lot of both. Not sure what that means, but you best be cooking. I want to send my people down into the Coop with whatever magic you can whip up. When we use our skills, we starve, so we’re going to need lots of food.”

Whitney, dripping wet, barged in and dumped an additional deer quarter onto the counter for Nacho to butcher. It seemed that the rain had finally hit. The sodden man marched over and grabbed Nacho’s chin in a bloody, beefy hand. “If you poison us, if your food is bad, if you try anything funny… I will end you. I worked at a prison before the Juxtaposition. I know how to handle criminals and anyone else who crosses us.”

That was a laugh. Hogan had been in prison before the Juxtaposition. He was a liar, but he was Crave’s dog to unleash on anyone he wanted. Crave could be a good guy…when it suited him. But deep down? Crave was all about surviving, and he’d literally eat someone else to make sure he thrived.

Nacho was going to use the user, and then get the abyss out of there. But first?

It was time to break their fast.