“So this is the pit.” Nestra looked around with curiosity. The Palladian clan often mentioned this repeating portal world as a cakewalk assignment, one that was both lucrative and easy, considering their power. It was a very strong D-class one, and it had the peculiarity of being circular with the exit portal in the middle. The path started up, right under a cliff of jagged rocks under a sky of perpetual yellow clouds. It led down in a clockwise path, sometimes over barren rock, sometimes over patches of deep white sand and down to a central arena, also covered in sand. The place smelled vaguely of sulfur. It was also the second most intense mana concentration human Nestra had ever felt (after the regrettable hide-under-an-ant-corpse incident). Mom was waiting for her near the entrance. Neat piles of bleeding carcasses littered the path, stacked two Nestras high. The creature looked like a mix between giant moles and antlions with an exoskeleton and very prominent front teeth. They were only valuable as feed since they apparently tasted rather terrible. The mana-infused sand was the portal’s treasure. It was stripped-mined every session, then used in fancy glass-making and luxury construction. Nestra frowned. “Did you leave me any?” “I told you we would go over the basics and we will go over the basics, my young daughter,” Mom replied with some annoyance. Despite the ease of the portal, she was still wearing her mage robes. “Not so young now…” Nestra grumbled. “Young in the way of the portal worlds,” Mom insisted. “We will take it slow. Or are you going back on your promise to be careful?” “Nope, and I would not have tried without you present,” Nestra shamelessly lied. “Hurry,” Doctor Daniels told his assistant. The fearful man rushed towards Nestra, opening the case which contained an array of testing equipment. “We wanted to keep it above ground, demon girl, but you leave us no choice. The salvation of the human race trumps any other concern,” the white-armored asshole said. “You’re fucking insane,” she hissed. “Diplomatic immunity won’t cover this one.” His response was fast and full of fervor. “You and all the impure mana-touched are so self-centered that you forget that humans are capable of something called sacrifice, altruism, enduring for the greater good. Even if we are caught before we can fly out, I will make sure the sample analysis is sent out before we are captured. You are the end of the line, the natural conclusion of all the so-called transformation powers and we will prove it, prove that you lot are the path to damnation. You are only the first of your kind.” Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong there. “Overestimating your abilities a bit,” Nestra huffed while the assistant tried to pull back the Skin which had formed under her lounger wear. He wasn’t having any success. “Just draw from her hand,” Daniels barked. From her position against the ground, she could see the needle of a very large syringe. She couldn’t use passe-muraille right now since she was being held. Momentum didn’t work if she wasn’t moving at all. If this hadn’t been her home she’d have been in trouble. “You should be pleased that our research will show the path to salvation for us all, but I suppose notions are foreign to you, demon girl. I see you’re calm. You may think reinforcements will come in time which means you activated some sort of alarm. Maybe they will, but it will not help you. I am strong. Thresholders think they have the best raiders on the planet and perhaps you do, but you’re scattered, fragmented. You do not understand unity or a common purpose. Your city is a Babel of arrogance and selfishness. If I have to be left behind for Nichols to fly off, I will.” The doctor had successfully drawn her blood and he was now grabbing some material. “You sure love the sound of your own voice.” “Is that all you have to say?” he replied with manic amusement. Right. Nestra had what she wanted. Those two were lone wolves and they intended to leave the city by plane this very night. She wouldn’t get more than that. “No, there is something more. Sea Wiz,” Nestra replied. “Ah, I’m finally getting a proper read on her,” the assistant exclaimed. “See what?” Daniels asked with a chuckle. “DEFENSE SYSTEMS ACTIVE.” The loudest fart imaginable would have deafened Nestra were it not for her sensory resistances. As it was, her wall of suspended rhododendrons, coat hanger, and the actual brick wall behind it were torn to shreds while she did her best to remain very, very still. A shower of debris ranging from pulverized bricks to mortar filled the room all around her. It barely lasted for a second but it left the front of Nestra’s warehouse den poked like cheese, with lights blinking weakly in the dusty air. Even with her monstrous resistances, she still felt like she’d been ran over by a pack of buffalos just from the air displacement. “INTRUDERS NEUTRALIZED.” “Ow. Thanks. Deactivate.” Nestra sat up. Her arms were still firmly held by gloved hands but the grappling position was much less effective now that they were no longer attached to a torso. She brushed herself, then looked around. The naval cannon had shed its tarp which hadn’t survived the blast. Its muzzle shone red. It was also, Nestra thought, the most glorious piece of fucking gear she’d ever witnessed. “You beautiful bastard you,” she whispered adoringly in Aszhii. As for the intruders, the diagnosis was easy. It was going to cost her a fucking fortune to get them off her rug. Shit, the naval cannon at point blank range was capable of taking down a B-class gleam! A good reminder never to underestimate dozens of 20mm tungsten rounds traveling at above one kilometer per second. Then she realized she’d just pasted two gleams on a diplomatic passport. “Ugh, this is going to be such a pain.” With a last sigh of annoyance, she grabbed her secured phone and dialed a number. To her surprise, the call was picked up immediately. “Lindstrom speaking. This better be urgent.” “The two American assholes who wanted samples of me, remember? They smashed through my front door to get them.” “Dammit, I’m on my way. They’re gonna regret it!” “Ah, that is to say, my home defense system disposed of them.” There was a very, very long silence, which was even more telling because A-class gleams could think really fast. “Dead, dead? Even the B-rank one? Are you sure? They can withstand a lot of punishment.” “You’ll need a spatula to scrape him off my floor.” Nestra didn’t understand what Rangarok said next but she decided that Swedish was such a beautiful language. “We’re going to need to take the naval gun away,” Ragnhild said in a vaguely annoyed voice. The technicians worked quietly. They’d been very loud and unprofessional about the crime scene first until Aszhii Nestra had hissed at one from under her mask. A fucking loser was getting close to her kitchen which was spotless, and therefore didn’t need to be messed with. Same for her weapons rack and her bed. On the diplomatic level, the situation was so complex that Shinran had shown up. Nestra wasn’t in trouble. There was a recording of her front door being smashed in by a white-armored blur and said white armor on the corpse of dearly departed Doctor Daniels. There was a recording of the hooded form of his assistant getting in with a case, and the body of said assistant inside, with the case open. Though damaged, many measuring instruments were instantly recognizable. The fact they’d wanted samples and been refused was fully recorded in Threshold’s systems with emails they’d sent themselves. The final touch was that Daniels and his goon were not alive to present their version of the event. If anything, the rest of the American diplomats in Threshold were in hot water. Oh, they wouldn’t be expelled or anything, but Threshold would make its annoyance known. Nestra’s status as victim was pure as snow which wouldn’t help with the CIWS situation. “What do you mean, take it away?” Nestra asked, scandalized. The techs froze before picking up the pace. Shinran held his peace. He probably didn’t want to interfere with Ragnarok while she was pretending to dispense justice, the tyrannical wench. “This is a ship weapon, Crescent, albeit an antique one. Why do you even have this here?” “That is not a home protection system!” Ragnarok replied, her voice rising. “It protected my house and therefore it’s a house protection system!” “The bullets blew through three warehouses, Crescent. Someone could have gotten hurt!” “I would have gotten hurt without it. No one ever visits those warehouses. Look, anything that can disable me can’t be brought down with tasers so obviously I’d need something with a bit of an oomph, no?” “Crescent, I don’t know how you got this thing to begin with—” “Perfectly legally,” Nestra insisted. “But this is military grade equipment that shouldn’t be in the hands of an individual!” “By that logic you’re an individual! I’m a C-class gleam with enemies, and they tried to harvest my fucking blood, dammit! That gun is the only thing that protected me!” Ragnarok took a deep, calming breath. “You can’t keep something that blasts holes through an entire city block and that’s final.” Nestra was about to explode, but she grew cold instead. Crossing her arms, she replied as calmly as she could. “You’re going to replace it with something even worse, are you not?” “My life is at risk. I will protect myself, one way or another.” “How about moving to a government-protected facility?” “You can kiss my gray ass.” Ragnarok’s eyes narrowed. The entire staff of techs froze where they were. “Crescent, you’re out of line.” “That is to say I kindly decline your ‘generous’ offer. I’m perfectly fine where I am with the level of protection I currently have, and I don’t need any help. I just need you to finish and leave so I can start with the repairs.” Ragnarok glared, but Nestra had righteous anger on her side. It was at that moment that Shinran took a step forward. “Perhaps Crescent can keep it if she reinforces her walls with enchantments and promises to use ammunition that does not punch through several meters of concrete…” “I can do that,” Nestra agreed with a nod. “There. And she is right, she does need to protect herself, but more importantly, she needs to be able to protect her identity.” The two A-class shared a glance. Ragnarok wanted Nestra hidden because she was her scalpel, and possibly the only person who could one day equal Shinran in pure bullshit power. Shinran wanted her hidden because she was an Aszhii whose big brother could raze the city to the ground. Hell, as far as she knew, he still didn’t know her civilian identity even though it would be as easy as checking whose name the warehouse was under. Either way, Nestra had what she wanted. She retired to the pillow pile while the techs packed up. She sent a few messages but her first call was to Gorge. “Hey,” she said as a way of greeting. “What’s up? You almost always message.” “Some twats crashed my place. Do you know someone who can do brick wall repair?” “The naval cannon fired. Front wall is Swiss cheese.” “Yeah I know a guy. Gonna take a week though, and twenty thousand creds give or take?” “Can they reinforce it with mana?” Gorge sighed. It wasn’t a good sign. “You’re gonna need some Touhei contractors and it’s gonna cost you a hundred thousand for the basic package.” “Fuck it. I’ll call them. I’m not moving. This is my den, hssssss.” This was going to put her in debt. Nothing too bad but she’d been running on low reserves to feed the Skin. It didn’t really make sense for her to invest when she was always one blunder away from having to leave the city. Or indeed, mankind. “One last thing. I need a shipment of alternative ammo for the cannon. High-explosive incendiary.” “Nestra, are you getting door-to-door missionary kaiju?” “They told me I needed something that doesn’t go through too many walls so that’s what I’m getting.” “Yeah because the walls will be blown to pieces, and also, on fire?” “My word is my bond. I still have the license anyway. Let’s say, five hundred rounds?” “You are insane. Seven creds a round. I’m giving you a discount because of the volume, so thirty-two hundred total.” “Much appreciated. See you later.” Her next call was to Stibbs. Her explanation was direct and to the point so she could indulge in gloating before the inevitable return call from a certain message. “And they thought they could just barge in and steal my vital fluids for their nefarious research, but little did they know, I was prepared! People always underestimate Clytemnestra Palladian, and then I either send them to prison or I have to power wash them off my curtains!” “You don’t have curtains.” “That’s a figure of speech, Stibbs. Bear with me! Anyway, one more foe to bite the dust thanks to my cunning and wondrous foresight. Oh, shit, she’s calling.” “I was about to say, I’m surprised you’re still at your home.” Nestra stood up to grab her luggage as she picked up on her visor. “Clytemnestra Palladian,” a sweet voice said.