Sometimes, to get what a person needs, one must apply a little force. After phasing into the stadium that New Nashville called home, then further ghosting through another wall into the interior part of the city, Colt followed after a lone guard in the darkness of the stands, his hands wrapped around his dagger. They were on the outskirts of the Stadium—the guard was more alone than the others, keeping watch out here and overlooking New Nashville itself, which made him a perfect target.

  Denny was less concerned about defending the interior. Since he didn’t know that Colt could walk through his walls, he hadn’t planned accordingly.

  Colt shook his head, eyes on the guard as he moved—a level 32.

  When the right time struck, it was child’s play to sneak over and close the distance. The phantom that he was, Colt, was there—a hand on the guy’s mouth and the blade of his dagger pressed against his throat. He didn’t want to kill anyone, at least not some random poor guard, but he couldn’t be sure of their strength difference. Even at a lower level, if this guy was investing in the right stats, it might be a problem.

  A knife blade solved that problem.

  “Don’t struggle. Don’t fight back; follow me carefully, and everything will be fine.” Colt whispered in the darkness.

  The guard shook their head in acceptance, and Colt pulled him back from the stands, deeper into the heights of the surrounding stadium and in a narrow corner without good vision; the guy was compliant, which was good.

  You didn’t make a threat you couldn’t keep, but like most people, this guy wasn’t ready to play hero.

  When secure, Colt spoke again, “Alright. Don’t make too loud of a noise. And don’t turn around. I’m going to ask you some questions, you’ll answer, and this will all be a dream.”

  He removed his hand from the guy’s mouth, and the Guard stood stock-still. The cold dagger against his skin was more than enough motivation for compliance.

  “How many guards are there in the city tonight, do you know?”

  “No,” The man answered and cleared his throat, “More than most. Governors orders.”

  Well, that much was already known, but it never hurt to verify and see if there was a missing key detail. Colt eased the dagger a bit, getting the sense from the guy’s tone that he wasn’t about to go and throw his life on the line for this city.

  “Why’d you become a guard?”

  “Pay. Freedom. You can see how the wind is going; everyone can see. You either make yourself useful to the city, or you’re going to be treated like you aren’t. It’s terrifying, monsters, bandits… Strange men grabbing you in the dark and putting a dagger to your throat.” The guard’s last remark was a little dry; the man was more tired than scared. But fine enough, Colt got the motivation.

  “You have friends here?”

  “My mom, she got out of the tutorial with me. Lost a hand. I’m keeping us afloat.”

  “Then you know what it’s like to have someone relying on. I’ve got a friend stuck in this city, too, without a chance to get him out. Say, you’ve seen monsters on behalf of Denny—he runs you all through expeditions to level, right? Have you ever been hurt?”

  “Of course, who hasn’t?” the man sounded frustrated, his fist tightening. It's not like he was about to go throw punches or anything—more like how Colt felt not too long ago—trapped in your lot in life, unable to find a way out or get the things you truly wanted.

  But he needed to twist the dagger a little to get what he wanted. Make sure he would cooperate.

  “I imagine a dictator running you into the ground and risking your life gets old quick; tell me, when you were last hurt, where did they take you.”

  The man stayed still.

  “You’re looking for the healers?”

  “I’m looking for my friend, who was a healer. They refused to let me speak to him. So I for one, am not going to sit still and obey the whims of a dictator. I’ll be talking to my friend.”

  The man shifted uncomfortably, a mental debate going through his head. Colt didn’t press the knife closer, instead choosing to wait and watch. He felt for him, for all these people who’d chosen to be guards under Denny—some, he was sure, did so as a loyalist. Seeing it as their own route to power, they were gleeful in their pursuit of climbing the new social ladder. Others, like this guy, did it by necessity.

  “You should leave this city,” He said after too long a silence.

  “With my friend.”

  “You can’t free them.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “No—I mean it’s impossible—they’re under the ground, I’m not sure how, but the Governor has been building a labyrinth down there; I don’t even remember how to get there, we went in through the White House, and someone led us to where the healers were. Protected, they said. But they have white masks on, and they don’t speak anymore. The only way to get down there is through the White House.”

  Colt absorbed the situation calmly and searched the city for the government office. It was hidden now, the scale of the buildings disguising it in a veritable New Nashville downtown.

  This had to be Denny’s checkmate, his fallback plan in case Colt brute forced his way back into the city. In order to get to their friend, they would need to storm the White House itself.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Colt snorted. Getting in would be easy. Getting out… Well, he had some plans for that, he supposed.

  “How big is this place?”

  “Big.”

  Good. That made the their eventual exit easier to accomplish.

  “Alright then. Well. You’ve been helpful. So, I’m going to give you a gift: plausible deniability. I need you to stay still and close your eyes. I’ll try to make it quick.”

  The guy gave a sudden jerk of his head, no doubt panic. Colt shushed him and yanked him back—further into the recesses of the unused stadium and straight to a janitorial closet he’d already scoped out before. Once there—Colt turned the guy around to look him in the eye.

  “I’m going to punch you hard in the head. It will leave a bruise; from there, you’re going to go into this closet, and I’m going to shove a lot of things in front of it. Your story is that you were knocked out and stashed away. That is my gift to you. One survivor to another. For what it’s worth, I think that this city is a dangerous place to be. You can try to shout for other guards, but it should be at least an hour or so until someone is doing a sweep here. Now, if you think I’ve treated you fairly… Stay quiet for more than that.”

  If not, I don’t think it matters anyway.

  Colt rolled his shoulders, waiting for the nod of acknowledgment.

  Then he hit the guy hard in the face—the guy reeled but kept quiet, stumbling further back into the depths of the supply closet. Colt sighed, then shut the door. Waiting outside for another three minutes.

  There was nothing inside, no screaming, no fighting. This was yet another test; if the guy had tried to break out right away or cause more trouble, then he might have to try to find a way to knock him out and do the rest of the work. There was none of that. So calmly, and with eyes on the door, Colt shoved as much stuff as he could in front of it.

  When he was done, he got a pleasant notification.

  ———

  Olympic Physique (Basic) has gained a level!

  ———

  Colt took in the information; either it had been subduing the guard or sneaking into the city, which was enough of a victory. It wasn’t a particularly difficult victory for him, but… Maybe it was measured on an objective scale?

  Being able to waltz in like a ghost through walls was a very special skill. And before now, Colt hadn’t parsed just how translatable it was for infiltration.

  Ten minutes of work amounted to a whole lot of crap piled in front. Enough to keep a level thirty from easily getting out and enough for the guy to have his ‘plausible deniability’ tomorrow when the storm blew over.

  Colt cracked his knuckles and looked at the town below.

  The plan was simple. Pretty much the same entrance that he used to get into the city. If his ability let him go through a dense wall with enough speed, it should let him phase through the ground with an equal application of speed—getting into this underground facility was, therefore, straightforward. Sneak near the White House, enter discretely, and then find Jimmy.

  The trick of this whole thing was getting out, and it would have to adjust to the circumstances.

  “Right, time to find Jimmy.” He said, sneaking out toward New Nashville to prowl the dark streets in his black cloak, hopefully preventing anyone who did catch a glance at him from figuring out who he was.

  ###

  Jimmy sat in his cell, the light above flickering, and only two other healers nearby. The rest had folded and been given better accommodation. After five days without seeing the sun, Jimmy was tempted to. It was damp down here, the air cold yet humid, and it stank like mushrooms and mold.

  Denny couldn’t force the brand onto them. They had to accept it. And accepting the brand was the only way out of here, promising it as a ‘mark of protection,’ all he thought of was Bill.

  Accepting a foreign skill that let another exert control over him that ‘empowered him.’ Was too much. So Jimmy rejected it. They still made him heal, but they gagged him and made him wear a mask like the others.

  A temporary measure.

  Sure, yeah, right.

  Jimmy shivered in his cell. He wasn’t sure what time it was; it could be morning, could be the middle of the night. He hadn’t slept, the fear of the way Denny looked at him tonight…

  His hand couldn’t stop shaking, the deep aches in his bones still there, the memories of the pain. Even now, his eyes kept jumping to the door, expecting that man to walk in again.

  He rubbed at his healed skin—the bruises their gone. They’d been healed after the beating. Tonight was the first time Denny raised a fist, but tonight had been something else as if he was racing against the clock.

  Maybe a spark deep inside of Jimmy burned; maybe it meant that Colt had come back. And Denny was afraid—that his friends had returned from their trip out of the city and were going to save him.

  A foolish dream. They probably thought he was dead. They wouldn’t find him… Wherever this was. Wherever Denny shoved them away to hide them.

  Jimmy shivered.

  Then he heard a noise.

  When he looked up, a black-cloaked figure was in the middle of the room, their eyes scanning carefully… Inspect didn’t work.

  He felt a shiver of fear—then he saw their face.

  “C—“

  The figure snapped their attention to them and raised a finger to his mouth. It was Colt. He was here. He’d come.

  “Christ. I can’t believe they had you here, you look awful man. Are you alright” Colt snuck up to the bars; the other two healers were asleep, and he had an odd look on his face as he whispered. “Say, where are the guards down here?” the frown only grew deeper as he took in Jimmy.

  Jimmy shivered and shook his head, “They should be out there…” he whispered back.

  Colt kept that scowl on his face. “We’re getting you out. Now.” And then pulled out a new dagger… Like it was shearing through butter, it slipped through the bars, cutting through the top… The bottom of them he went slower with, slicing through the metal and then ensuring it carefully fell to the ground without a clack. He stared at the other healers, still asleep, and gestured for Jimmy to come out.

  He was a couple of steps behind, the sensation in the pit of his stomach welling.

  Freedom.

  He was finally free.

  There was a crash outside like a thundering step; Colt tensed, eyes snapping in the direction of the door. He raised a hand to halt Jimmy.

  He wore a deep frown on his face, eyes roaming up and down. The scowl only grew deeper.

  “It was going too easy. So this where the other shoe drops.” He said, the crashing increasing. Something was coming. The rest of the healers awoke—shivering—one began to scream out an alarm, and Colt snapped a glare at them. The noise was headed right toward them, headed right toward Jimmy.

  He knew it was going to shove him right back into the deep, dark pit that Colt had just cut him out of.

  No!

  Jimmy began to shake; Colt gripped his shoulder, “Take it easy. I’ll handle it. You’re going to get out of here, okay?”

  He didn’t. He didn’t know what Denny was capable of—couldn’t know. Whatever this was, Jimmy felt a certainty his friend wasn’t ready.