Monroe

Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Four. It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Four. It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

Bob woke up slowly. He almost felt like he was sick, his head was stuffy, and he was having a hard time opening his eyes. He also didn't remember going to bed. He'd been on vacation, visiting Alaska. He was going to go hiking through the Alaskan wilderness, leaving from Nome and just hiking out into the region. Dave, Amanda, and Jessica had come with him. They'd gotten to Nome and then gotten breakfast.

He couldn't remember anything past breakfast. With a groan, he tried to sit up. He was equal parts surprised and confused to discover that he couldn't do so. He tried something easier, wiping the gunk out of his eyes, only to find that he couldn't lift his arm. Something was holding it in place. He took ten slow, deep breaths, then focused on trying to open his eyes. They were crusted shut, but with repeated blinking, he managed to get them open.

He was staring at a concrete ceiling. He could tell it was concrete because it still had the impressions of the casts used when the concrete was poured. Lowering his gaze, he felt a wave of panic as he saw that he'd been stripped of his clothing and dressed in a white jumpsuit, and worse, that he was restrained at his wrists, upper arms, ankles, thighs, neck, and chest, which really did seem a bit unnecessary. It was the IV in his left forearm that worried him the most.

"Good Morning, Mr. Whitman," a man, judging by the voice, came into view. He was wearing a white lab coat over a white button-down with a blue tie and black slacks. He was also wearing a mask that completely covered his head, presenting bland, non-descript features. "I apologize for the theatre, but I'm given to understand that while you're not a particularly violent man, you have friends who are, so these are simply reasonable precautions. You may call me Dr. White, although, of course, that is an alias."

"Where am I?" The words slurred as they came out, making Bob aware that his throat was parched. "Why did you kidnap me?"

"Ah, you'll definitely be feeling a bit dizzy. I must further apologize, but the amount of sedative necessary to render you unconscious was well in excess of the guidelines for sedating an elephant. I'm sure you're also a bit parched," he moved out of view for a second and returned seconds later with a cup complete with a straw. He placed the straw against Bob's mouth, and Bob slowly sipped, pleased to discover it was water. Given that they had an IV in his arm, it wasn't like they would need to dose the water.

"Your vitals are good, and I'll be monitoring them from another room," Dr. White continued. "There are some people who have gone to great lengths to bring us here, and they'd like to speak with you."

With that, Dr. White left his vision, and he heard a door open and close. His mind racing, he hadn't missed where the doctor had said that they'd gone to great lengths to bring 'us' together, which implied he wasn't here of his free will either. Once he freed himself, that fact might come into consideration.

The door opened again, and a pair of men entered his vision. They had stools with them, and they placed them clearly in his view and settled down on them. Each man was dressed in an almost comically black suit. Black slacks, black shirt, black jacket, black tie, black shoes, even their socks were unrelieved black. They also wore masks like the doctors.

"Mr. Whitman," the person on the left said, surprising Bob. He'd thought they were both men judging by the cut of their suits, but this was clearly a woman. "It has come to our attention that you are withholding key information regarding the upcoming integration of 'The System," she used her hands to provide quotes for The System. "As you seem reluctant to accept overtures, or indeed, any communications from parties with whom you are unfamiliar, we've had to take rather extreme measures to speak with you."

She had an accent, but Bob couldn't place it. "I don't know what you're talking about," Bob replied hoarsely.

"Come now, Mr. Whitman," The man next to her sounded like he was smiling. "As you might imagine, arranging this little meeting was extremely difficult, not to mention expensive, not only in terms of materials but also in regards to the sheer man-hours invested. We wouldn't have worked so hard to make this conversation possible without being absolutely certain."

He pulled what Bob recognized as a digital voice recorder from his jacket and pressed the play button.

He was shocked to hear his own voice.

"As a few of you know, a change is coming. I've given everyone a few hints, but it's time for me to lay my cards on the table. I refer to the System as a System because it is exactly that. An artificial intelligence that self replicates and propagates, exerting control over the energies we call dark matter."

The man clicked a button, and the recording stopped. "While your efforts to avoid eavesdroppers were admirable, our surveillance is somewhat more all-encompassing," he said.

"For the purposes of this conversation, you may refer to us as Mr. and Mrs. Black," Mrs. Black began, taking over the conversation. "Now we have the entirety of your advice to your friends, and we aren't ungrateful, but it's clear that you have access to information that no one else has."

"Quite simply put, we wish to know what you know. Specifically, your knowledge of advanced species with natural affinities, ideally double or even triple affinities," Mr. Black said.

"All of that will basically be available when the patch hits," Bob muttered, still shocked that they'd somehow gotten a bug on him or one of his friends.

"We know," Mr. Black assured him, his voice still carrying his smile. "We aren't asking for anything too onerous, and we'd have much preferred to have this conversation in a more civilized fashion, but that is, as they say, water under the bridge."

Bob blinked, trying to fight off the effects of the drugs they had running through him. Why would they care about something that would basically be public knowledge for anyone with the wherewithal to ask?

More importantly, why did he care? Bob tried to pull up the pattern for a portal spell, planning to drop himself into his inventory where he could recover before coming back out, geared up to handle his captors.

His eyes widened as he realized that he didn't have any mana!

He was on Earth, of that he was sure, so he also wasn't regenerating any mana either.

"Dr. White," Mrs. Black called over her shoulder, "please increase the sodium thiopental, Mr. Whitman appears to be rather more resilient than expected."

"You've no doubt realized that we've drained your mana," Mr. Black continued, and Bob was surprised at how badly he wanted to wipe that unseen smile off his face. "Which was quite a task. You've a surprisingly deep mana pool, larger than a tier five spell caster normally would, which is something we'll talk about later. For now, we'd like you to focus on the species that one could apotheosis into at tier six with triple affinities for spell casting, ideally conjuration."

Bob closed his eyes and focused on the ball of emotions that represented Monroe.

The big floofer was asleep, of course. Bob focused on waking him up, his head swimming as a fresh rush of medication entered his body.

Monroe's emotions shifted to confused/frightened/alone.

Bob sent him a mental image of Monroe appearing on his chest and then both of them falling into his inventory. He was desperately hoping that Monroe could manage the spell casting on his own because he could feel his thoughts slowing, and he wasn't at all sure that he'd be able to guide Monroe through the spell.

Monroe woke up in a strange place. His human-servant had woken him up, but he didn't know where he was. He remembered eating with his human some sort of delicious fishy white meat that wasn't quite fish, and then nothing.

He staggered to his feet, letting out a plaintive 'meow.'

His human wasn't in the room with him. Also, this wasn't one of Monroe's rooms. Well, it was, because he was in it, and any room he was in was his, but still.

An image came from his human-servant, showing him harnessed to a sleeping place, with two people his human considered a threat looming over him. His human was in danger!

The image continued, showing Monroe appearing on his chest, then opening a portal so they could go into their safe-warm-home.

Monroe flexed his claws and focused on the odd twist he used to get to his person or into the safe-warm-home.

He appeared a moment later on his human's chest and repeated the motion, pleased to note that his human had gone to the safe-warm-home, although he'd taken the sleeping place with him.

Monroe laid his ears back and pounced on the first of his faceless enemies.

They'd reacted slowly, as all humans did, and he caught the woman's throat in his jaws. He sank his foreclaws into her chest, raking her stomach with his rear claws as he tore out her throat. As she fell, he jumped off her, seeking his prey. The man managed to get an arm in front of himself, but Monroe still bowled him over. Ignoring his arm, he latched on lower, unable to effectively bite but still raking with his rear claws, ripping the man open between belly and groin.

Monroe howled in fury as he raked and scratched. They had dared to hurt his human!

The human stopped struggling after a few more moments, and Monroe leaped back, eyeballing his prey. Sometimes prey feigned death, and a cany hunter, such as Monroe, knew to make sure they were really dead. Shaking blood and shredded pieces of intestine from his hind paws, Monroe studied his fallen foes. Satisfied that they were truly dead, he jumped up and fell through the portal he'd opened.

Bob woke up, this time more quickly. It might have had something to do with Monroe licking his cheek. The big cat's tongue had always been rough, but as he'd leveled up, it had evolved into something akin to a slow-moving belt sander.

"Hey buddy," Bob muttered, trying to weakly push the big cat off, only to discover that he was still strapped to the bed, although the bed was now resting where his kitchen table used to be.

He sighed and mentally focused on Monroe cutting him free. It took a moment, but Monroe got the idea, and with a swipe of his claws, the restraint on his right wrist was free. It was a matter of moments to free himself.

He sat up, pulling the IV out of his arm, then staggered to his feet, pulling off the jumpsuit. He needed a mana potion and a shower. Then another mana potion.

Bob was in the shower, letting the water run over himself when he nearly fell over as Monroe rammed into his shin. He blinked and looked down. Monroe liked water, but he wasn't overly fond of the shower.

That was when he realized that the water in the bottom of the tub was slowly turning pink.

"Buddy, are you okay?" Bob knelt and picked up Monroe carefully, ignoring the 'mreows' of protest. He couldn't see any injuries. He reached for the emotional ball in the back of his mind, but there wasn't any pain, just wet/dirty/let-me-down.

Bob checked his arm, but it was barely bleeding, then gave himself a thorough inspection. He wasn't hurt either.

Shaking his head, Bob got out of the shower and pulled on his armor. He then sat down and held a hundred mana crystals in his hand. He needed a quick trip to his Arcane Depths to regenerate his mana.

"Gently, you're going to feel a bit dizzy," an unfamiliar voice invaded Dave's head.

He winced as he struggled towards coherence, his head pounding.

He struggled to open his eyes and immediately regretted it. He was in some sort of bunker, a bare slab of concrete with harsh fluorescent lighting overhead. He turned his head from side to side, relieved to catch sight of Amanda, although when he noticed that she was restrained to the bed, his concern skyrocketed.

"Amanda!" He croaked, his throat dry.

"Please relax, she's fine and should be waking up momentarily. I'm removing your restraints now, and we'll remove hers once she's awake enough to not fall off the bed," Dave turned his head and saw that the voice belonged to a man in a white doctor's coat. He was middle-aged, with swarthy skin, a widow's peak of salt and pepper hair, and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

"My name is Vikram Ramachandra, and while I'm guilty of administering medication to keep you sedated, I was brought here against my will and forced to do so under threat of death," Vikram said his voice oddly calm considering the circumstances he'd described.

"The people who brought us here were after your friend, Bob," Vikram continued, and Dave was pleased to note that he was unfastening his restraints. "They've drained your mana to prevent you from using your magic, but they apparently didn't realize that the cat was also capable of sorcery."

Dave's chuckle turned into a cough. Vikram had finished unfastening the last restraint and moved over to a table, returning with a clear glass full of water. Dave accepted it gratefully, swallowing carefully.

"I imagine Monroe was not well pleased to be separated from Bob," Dave croaked as he tried to stand up and staggered. Vikram caught him and helped steady his steps as he moved over to Amanda.

"That's both an accurate statement and entirely inadequate to describe the repercussions," Vikram said, and Dave thought he might have paled slightly. It was hard to tell with his complexion.

"She should wake up soon, all four of you were incredibly resistant, and while I was cautious, I still used a tremendous amount of sedative to keep you under," Vikram explained.

"Four," Dave muttered as Amanda began to stir. "Wait, where is Jessica?" He asked.

"She's in another room," Vikram shook his head. "Even while we were attempting to keep you sedate, you two became frantic to the point of nearly dislocating your joints when we attempted to separate you."

Amanda's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, babe," Dave whispered. "Everything is ok, just take a sip of water. Your throat has to be killing you."

Amanda blinked slowly and sipped the water. After a moment, she blinked again, and her focus appeared to sharpen. She looked down, then looked at him.

"Why are we wearing jumpsuits, and why am I tied to the bed? That's your kink," she murmured.

Dave coughed. "Well, it appears that Bob's paranoia was not entirely unjustified. We were abducted along with him by parties as yet unknown. Vikram here was also abducted and forced to administer sedatives to us while they interrogated Bob. They drained our mana somehow but didn't realize the dangers of separating Monroe from Bob, allowing Bob to escape, and the good doctor to free us."

He looked at Vikram. "Does that about sum it up? My head is still a bit foggy."

"More rather than less," Vikram agreed as he began to remove Amanda's restraints. "I apologize for leaving the restraints in place, but some people react violently when they come out from under the sedative, and I didn't want to risk any injuries."

"I understand, and you seem to be as much a victim as we were," Amanda said, taking another sip of water, then carefully sitting up. She shook her head slowly, blinking again. "I'm going to need another minute," she grumbled.

"So, where is Bob?" Dave asked Vikram.

"He disappeared through a glowing circle, along with his bed and the cat," Vikram replied.

"That's Bob for you," Amanda stood up with a groan. "Always disappearing into a portal." She looked around. "Where is Jessica?"