Monroe

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-one. Avoiding, enjoying, and building relationships.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-one. Avoiding, enjoying, and building relationships.

Bob wasn't hiding. He was carefully excavating the seventh floor of his Dungeon. It just happened to be inaccessible to anyone else.

The day before had been grueling. It had started off slowly but had quickly snowballed. He'd ended up in the Mojave desert, casting regenerate over and over again, as more and more Marines had poured in.

Someone had gotten their hands on a school bus.

Someone else had a bar-b-que grill so large they had to tow it with a truck, and they'd set that up and started grilling late in the evening, and they'd just kept going until late the next afternoon. Word had been passed along to bring meat and beer.

He needed a break.

Running his hands through Monroe's fur, he concentrated on arranging the copper wire on the earth by using the Control Earth spell. He had to review the placement after he ended the spell to make sure it still fit the ambient mana, but even with having to make a bunch of corrections, it was quicker to do it this way than laying it out by hand.

Bob was pretty sure that Thidwell knew about that, and having him do it by hand was some ridiculous right of passage.

He continued to lay the copper in place, Monroe's purrs rumbling soothingly through the space he'd created.

Yesterday had been too much. Too much hugging, too much crying, too many thank you's.

Maybe he could build a box, where he could lay down in one half, with Monroe of course, and the other person could lay down in the other, and he could poke their hand with his while he cast the ritual, and when it was done, they could get out of the box and put the next person in.

Someone could just tell the Marines it was a magic box, and he'd be able to skip all the unpleasantness.

He had six members of the Endless ferrying people between worlds, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what was happening back on Earth.

The Marines had taken the initiative and run with it. He was fairly certain he'd heard a group of them plotting to abduct the Army Corps of Engineers, but they were just joking. Probably. He hoped.

Bob had been surprised to discover that Mike wasn't joking about the Marines wanting to take the Path of the Endless Swarm. Given that the Marines he'd interacted with had a relationship with their rifles that was reminiscent of how he felt about Monroe, he'd thought they'd all demand to take the Path of the Archer. It turned out that watching the D&D group had opened their eyes to the possibilities, and there had been a not-so-serious discussion about 'Dinosaur Calvary.'

Dave and Amanda had asked for a few minutes of his time, but he'd begged off until tomorrow.

"They probably want to go back home," Bob murmured to Monroe, "pick up some stuff, check their missed calls and emails."

"Maybe we'll find a kitty something nice," he rubbed Monroe's ears, "because you're such a handsome boy, yes you are," he whispered, "just the biggest, strongest, mightiest hunter ever."

Monroe's purr increased in volume.

"Ok, buddy," Bob said as he hefted the value-sized cat, "you gotta go into my inventory for this."

Bob stored Monroe in his inventory, directing him onto the bed, where he sprawled out.

Piling mana crystals onto his lap, Bob took a deep breath and started pulling mana through the crystals, beginning the long process of working the five-fold ritual.

Amanda paused to allow a column of marines to thunder past her.

She had a lunch date with Dave but had gotten tied up when a squad of marines had descended on her wolf, asking politely, but with pleading eyes, if they could pet her.

It turned out they had all been military police who had been seconded to become dog handlers. Or something along those lines, military jargon was like a foreign language. The long and short of it was they'd all been marine K9 partners. When she'd mentioned that she'd been able to choose what to summon, one of the men had quietly asked if they could summon german shepherds. Her answer in the affirmative had caused smiles and, in the case of one particularly tough-looking marine, tears.

She trotted across the field, her wolf running fluidly alongside her. She soon spotted Dave as they neared the base of the glacier.

He'd spread out a table cloth on the ground, just a few feet away from a rushing stream. There were pillows, a tray full of sandwiches, and a cooler that no doubt held her favorite wine. Dave was deliciously predictable in that he knew exactly what she liked.

"Hey, handsome," she greeted him as she slowed down to walk.

"Hey yourself," Dave replied, walking forward to pull her into a gentle kiss. "Ready for a light lunch?"

"Famished," she replied, dropping to the ground and grabbing a sandwich from the tray. "Sorry about being late, I ran into a group of marines who used to be part of a K9 unit, and they had a few questions about Vera," she nodded to her wolf, who was now sitting alertly, watching the stream.

"It's crazy how quickly that all came together," Dave said as he sat down beside her, "I mean, two days ago there five guys, and now there's a thousand."

"They definitely aren't messing around," Amanda agreed, "I talked to Mike, and he said they're just waiting for Bob to dig out the next level of the Dungeon so they can bring over more marines to fill it."

"At least they aren't trying to take over our delving spots," Dave grabbed a sandwich of his own, tearing into it.

"We definitely need some more of our Dungeons and Dragons peeps," Amanda said, "As accommodating as they're being, I don't think this should be a purely military operation."

"I agree," Dave opened the cooler and pulled out a bottle of wine, pouring each of them a glass, "but it's going to be hard to compete with not only that kind of efficiency, but their sense of camaraderie."

"Right?" Amanda nodded, "it's so weird, they either call each other by their last names or their ranks, but as soon as they take off those uniforms and they're in t-shirts, they call each other 'brother.'"

Dave shook his head as he sipped his wine. "That and they all just left. No notice, someone just sent up the marine version of the bat signal, and a thousand of them showed up, no questions, no hesitation."

"Our gaming group has been awesome over the years, but I'm not sure how many people we could gather that quickly," he finished.

"Well, Bob said he'd be around tomorrow, so we'll head home and check our email," Amanda suggested, "see if we can't do something similar, arrange a meetup for everyone, offering bar-b-que and beer."

"They did leave the grill back there," Dave mused.

"We could make it an all-inclusive retreat," Amanda said thoughtfully, "sort of like a miniature convention. Pay for people's plane tickets, let them know that we've got food and drink included; they just need to bring their adventurous spirits and be ready to go into a Dungeon."

"You're wicked," Dave smiled that slow, naughty smile of his, sending a tingle down her spine.

"Why, good sir, I know not what you mean," she replied primly, "I'm but an innocent maiden, unschooled in such things."

Dave leaned forward and purred into her ear, "I'm afraid you've found yourself in dark company, young lady."

Amanda allowed herself to be drawn into a long kiss.

Mike was getting tired of people asking him if he knew where Bob was.

He knew exactly where Bob was. Or rather, he knew exactly where Bob had said he would be. He didn't have the ability to teleport himself into the seventh floor of the Dungeon and beat him like a pinata until answers fell out.

He also knew that Bob had needed the break. It was a miracle that he'd held it together long enough to regenerate a thousand Marines before going into hiding. Call it being an introvert, antisocial, or just the legacy of trauma, the man clearly had a set amount of energy available for social interactions, and he became increasingly erratic and unstable once you passed that threshold.

Monroe appeared to act as a sort of buffer for Bob, reducing the amount of energy he needed to spend interacting with people.

In retrospect, Mike had reviewed his previous interactions with Bob; he'd been able to chart how drained the man had been each time.

The person currently querying him for Bob's whereabouts was a heart-stoppingly beautiful young woman who radiated an aura of peace and kindness that was almost physically palpable.

"He's working on the seventh floor of the Dungeon, Ma'am," Mike told her, "he indicated he'd have it finished this evening."

She smiled at him, and Mike grimaced. That beauty stat was fucking bullshit, but it definitely explained how Bob had gotten to be so good-looking.

"I know you aren't his assistant," she began, "and he really should appoint one, but if you see him, could you let him know that Annisa is looking for him?"

"You're Annisa?" Mike blurted out.

"I am," she blinked, and Mike squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, refusing to stare at those perfect, thick lashes, ignoring the way they darkened her brilliant blue eyes. "You're going to cause a fucking pile up," Mike grunted as he kept his eyes closed, "Is there any way you can turn off that stupidly beautiful thing you've got going on?"

Annisa laughed, and Mike struggled not to grind his teeth as the light sound whispered sensual things to his libido.

"My apologies," Annisa said, and Mike could feel her aura recede, "I've spent the past several years in the Church, where we constantly use our blessings to show not only our piety but also to make determining where one stands in the hierarchy of the Church simple."

Mike cracked an eye open. Still beyond beautiful. He didn't like to use the word angelic, as he wasn't a fan of religion, but if he was going to call a spade a spade, she definitely fit the bill. He opened his other eye.

"I believe it was the Call to Service blessing," Annisa offered, "which speaks volumes as to your character," she added with that damned smile. "It draws people who embody the virtues of the seven God's of Light to us, and if the difference in attributes is significant enough, can cause intense attraction."

She shook her head, her flowing hair dancing across her shoulders. "I suspect my beauty is likely exponentially higher than your wisdom," she smiled gently.

"Awesome, just fucking awesome," Mike grumbled. "You're the one Huron sent to do the reincarnation rituals?"

"I am," she agreed, her tone carrying an undercurrent of amusement.

"Can you make yourself less pretty?" Mike asked bluntly, "I need to get you back to Earth to drop some of those rituals, but you're so fucking beautiful I'm not sure that's a great idea."

"You are special," she murmured, closing her eyes and pursing her perfect, kissable lips.

"I'm just a retired sergeant Ma'am," Mike disagreed, "and I guess a retired detective as well."

A gentle glow emanated from her features for a moment, obscuring them, and when the glow faded, she looked slightly different.

She opened her eyes and shuddered delicately. "That should suffice, yes?"

Mike cautiously inspected her, wary of becoming entranced. She was still beautiful, but his libido was no longer screaming at him.

It was still whispering quietly, but no more so than when he saw a beautiful actress.

"Yeah," he muttered, "that's better."

"So you'll be escorting me to those who need to reincarnate?" She asked.

"No," Mike shook his head, "Waters was in charge of that; he'll grab one of the Endless kids and pop over with you," he replied. "He finished his delve a few hours ago; he ought to be showered and changed by now."

Mike tapped his radio. "Foxtrot Tango Alpha Two, Foxtrot Tango Alpha Two, this is Foxtrot Tango Alpha One, report to the mess hall, over," he muttered into his mic.

Annisa had watched, curiosity written across her lovely features.

"Foxtrot Tango Alpha One, this is Foxtrot Tango Alpha two, roger, over." Waters' voice replied in his ear.

"He'll be here shortly," Mike advised, rolling his neck, wincing as he felt the tension.

"Amazing," she murmured, stepping closer and peering at the radio on his vest.

"Yeah," Mike stepped back, "let's go with that."

"Your people have accomplished so much without magic," she smiled brilliantly.

"Just wait until you see LA," Mike muttered, then nodded to Waters as he entered the mess hall. "There he is," he said in relief, "Waters' this is Annisa, she'll be casting the reincarnation rituals, Annisa, this is Corporal Eric Waters; he'll be escorting you."

"Ma'am," Mike nodded, "thank you for your aid, have a safe trip," he turned and headed for the safety of the kitchen ostensibly to check on the coffee supplies.

"Until tomorrow, Sergeant Mike," Annisa called out from behind him, hastening his steps.