Chapter 25.3: Charybyssal Worm Pit

The early morning hours in a Galataean city were usually filled with the hustle and bustle of people going about their lives. Work started early, for those who had it. A lot of people did mostly whatever they wanted and only earned enough to get by. It was not even a practice that was looked down upon in the major cities, as someone who played games for a living was often given as much respect as someone who sold items on the global network. Sure, neither of those people was as respected as someone who managed to physically own a store or who worked in the military, but most of them still led interesting lives.

Away from the major cities, in places like Mesa-III, the work day began early simply because it did. The people had to work much harder, as even with high-technology to help them there were still many things for simple country folk to do during a hard day’s work.

However, not everyone near the small town of Mesa-III was interested in working hard and living off the land. In fact, there were many people who preferred to live off of the hard work of the people of Mesa-III without doing any of that work themselves. In an old war bunker, three of those people were discussing a recent problem.

“I’m telling ya Clem, that bastard knows.” said a man who wore a faux-leather jacket with fringe hanging off the arm. The yellow kerchief tied around his neck was far cleaner than it should be given his profession, but such was the way of an outlaw on Galataea. Even criminal scum could have decent laundry service.

“Now, Hank, you know that’s just not true.” said Clem, a man with steely blue eyes and a strong masculine jaw that seemed to have been chiseled from granite.

The two men argued back and forth for a moment before a deep gravelly voice broke into the conversation. “Don’t mattah.” said the owner of the voice, a man who wore the blackest of black ten gallon hats.

“It don’t mattah, boss?” asked Hank. He was certainly surprised to hear that. Bart was usually far more proactive.

“Nope. Don’t mattah.” said Bart. The gang boss leaned back in his chair and slung his black leather booted feet up onto the table. His brightly gleaming golden spurs jangled lightly.

“Boss, he’s a hunter... He’s been catchin’ the hawkline. We even got him on vidya snoopin’ near the pit! If he checks out the pit or calls the ASDF...” began Clem.

“Don’t. Mattah.” said Bart before he tipped his hat forward and released a wicked smile.

The other two men glanced to each other then turned back to their boss. “Why nawt?” they asked simultaneously.

Bart raised his finger and a holographic display appeared atop the table. It was a message.

[Message]

Hey lil’ brother. Me an’ the boys will be back ‘roun that way in 'bout a week. We rustled up a lot of hire hands... I think we can do you know what now and make it work.

Maw, says hi, and paw wants to know if Clem ever got his dick wet.

~ Johnny

[--]

“Johnny’s comin’ and he’s bringin' his boys?” asked Clem, while his eyes widened with excitement.

“Yep.” said Bart.

“How many boys he got?” asked Hank.

“Dunno.” said Bart.

Bart’s smile widened and became even more feral after that. Let that stupid hunter keep on patrolling. He didn’t know who he was messing with, or even that he’d already pissed off the wrong pole cat just by being in the area.

***

A soft dinging sound caught Scott’s attention. It was early morning, not quite sunrise, but he had been up for a while getting ready for the coming day. Shaia and Tara would be coming with him, along with the hunting party’s guest star Eina. He had promised Pirouette that he would call her back out if he needed to discuss the situation, but since all he was doing was searching the area near the pit, he doubted he would need to disturb her.

However, the dinging sound that he had just heard would prove to be the ruination of his plans for the day. It was a message from the American City Council.

[Message]

Hello, Hunter Scott Matthews. We have received your report concerning the Charybyssal worm pit that you believe that you have discovered. Unfortunately, after verifying the location with geological records, it is considered highly unlikely that such a creature would make its lair in the area shown in your report.

The area of desert near that location is known to be a honeycomb of caverns. A Charybyssal worm of the size and power necessary to be able to lure Nightmares over the distance that you stated could not settle in that area and find proper purchase.

Given your report and the issues presented, we are going to send out an ASDF squad to rendezvous with you in two days at the town square in Mesa-III. If a worm does exist then you will retain full credit for its discovery. If something else is the reason behind these events, then you will have a reasonable force to help deal with any unpleasant occurrences.

Thank you for your service, citizen.

~ American City Council

[--]

“So, they think the same thing. It isn’t really a Charybyssal worm.” Scott was heartened that the council planned to send a squad out to help check the area. After he had made his report they must have been just as suspicious as he was.

That was one good thing about the stringent requirements and lengthy vetting process for hunters. Their reports were normally taken seriously regardless of the outlandish claims that might be made.

He closed down the message then nodded. If a team was coming in, he’d need to alert the mayor just in case the council had not done so already. There were also preparations to be made. Time was short, but he did not want to be unprepared. Whatever might be in that pit could be far worse than a Charybyssal worm.