“Hello, Chivos? … Hey, some crazy shit went down and I want to go over it with you. Can I come down there, urgently? … Great, when’s the next inward tele-pulse? … Yeah I can kill some time until you’re open. Probably visit a friend or something. I’ll give you a call when I know more. … Oh yeah, thanks, I’ll be sure to wear it. Thanks, love ya, hun.”

I hung up the stones with a snicker, then rolled over in bed to scritch Varia. “Hey girl, you wanna join me for a day back home?”

She bounced her little ferret body up and down excitedly, which was honestly so cute. The scheduled tele-pulse was in a bit over an hour, so I had some time to kill… kinda. After a nice shave, I went into the front hall where Pokle had kindly stacked a few deliveries while I was gone. I picked out the one most likely to be what I wanted and opened it up. There was a white, opera-ish full-face mask, two gloves, and a choker necklace. I put the whole ensemble on and felt the enchantment kick in as I went to feed Grif.

He was happy in his nest of blankets and shredded paper (emulating nest #1). I fed him some frozen-thawed mice from the icebox and topped his water off before giving him some pets. He didn’t even notice the mask or gloves, which meant it was working. I made sure to talk lots in the process, letting him and the kit learn my voice. Then I vacated the room and removed the set. I then placed it in the air and it created a hologram of myself, complete with voice and mannerisms. A caretaker’s visage, they call it.

I used to have a set for Varia, but—silly me—I sold it because I didn’t think I would be adopting anything else. So much for that; score one for loot hoarding. With that done, it was time to make another call.

……

“Hey, Jerr, it’s Dennis, how ya doin’? … Oh? That’s great! Why didn’t you call me for that offer? … Ah, yeah, I can see that. Listen, I’m gonna be in the area for business but the scheduling doesn’t line up and I don’t want to loiter outside. Mind if I drop by and socialize? … Yeah, next tele-pulse, you open? … Fantastic, what’s the address? Oh hold on, let me get a quill.”

……

I strolled through the market square, looking for some particular things. It was a sunny day with a soft breeze in the bustling, ornate square of colorful stone walkways and market stalls. I whistled ‘Follow The Yellow Brick Road’ to myself as I perused, stopping at a stall with some glassware. There was a jet-black rose of shaped obsidian, looking like the work of an adept silicomancer.

“How much for this flower?” I asked the gruff lady at the stall.

“Five hunned gold.”

“Silicomancers make a lot for quite cheap, we both know that. Four hundred.”

“Four-ninety you stubborn bull.”

I played up my on-the-fence body posture. “Four-twenty-five.”

“Four. Seventy.”

I placed 4.5 green coins of cannium on the stand. “Four-fifty, and I’ll save you the trouble of packing it up for me.”

She looked up, doing some mental math. “Sold.”

I soon placed the rose in my bag, satisfied. I was still just about ripped off, but… slightly less so than I could have been. Next, I followed some directions to the food stands, finding the Prairieton section. I zeroed in on the one with gigantic beans.

“What’s the weight on this year’s harvest, good sir?” I asked the bean counter.

“Dried? Ten to the pound!” he boasted. “How many do you want?”

I held out an E-D sack. “Fill ‘er up.”

……

I waltzed into the front room of my business with a carefree spring in my step. Even though I was on my way to get some legal counsel, it was still so much better than Shimmerlands garbage. To my surprise, Cameron was at the reception desk.

“Oh hey, Cam. Not out on a ridealong or something?” I inquired.

He shook his head. “Nah. Pokle said some calls came in at a bad time and people are a little too swamped to have someone dedicated to training me. I’ve only been on three jobs so far, otherwise, I’m ‘meeting the local clientele’.”

I walked up to the desk. “Well, I guess it’s good to get your face seen, especially since everyone’s kinda… diet racist?”

He shrugged. “More weird looks, less hassling. I think it’s a net positive.”

“Shouldn’t even have to be a comparison,” I mumbled under my breath. “Tell you what, I’m taking today off to recover from a bit of a shitshow, but I’m back tomorrow. I’ll take you on some ridealongs starting bright and early, sound good?”

His tired demeanor reinflated slightly. “Great, thanks. I’ll take any chance to get off my butt.”

I proceeded on into the back offices. They were nice compared to cube farms back home, being a mix of open and private. Four desks on one wall, six in the middle facing each other, and two on the other wall with a little snack corner and filing shelves crammed in everywhere else. All the desks had small wooden dividers that ended right before eye level, at which point there was a metal frame for a curtain. Feeling social? Open it up and chat away! Not so much? Shut that shit and nose into your papers. If your day is especially crap, you can even toggle an illusory barrier that blocks out sight and sound.

It was pretty empty with everyone out on calls. Only 2 were people in, and they were busily updating location files. One finished adding to the notes on a repeat customer and stamped it with an inkless seal, which sent the page through the air right where it belongs in a filing shelf squirreled away in a corner. I headed for one of the 3 doors on the back wall, sticking my head into Pokle’s office for once in a blue moon. She was on the stone, so I whispered to not interrupt the call.

“Hey, Pokle, I’ll be back on the job tomorrow. Can you put me down for a reasonably straightforward location so I can train Cam?”

She nodded and I thumbs-upped my way out of the room. I passed by the reception sigil for the calling stones, then the door to the napping room, arriving at my office to head downstairs into the Ratcave™. I made it down and pulled a ring of smooth grey-black crystal from my pocket, then slipped it onto my left ring finger and let down the teleportation chandelier. With a tap of the ringed hand, the glowy bits went red and I had nothing to do but sit and wait for the inward tele-pulse. I patted my shirt and Varia crawled out of the collar, making what looked like a beer gut disappear from my figure. I scritched her as we waited.

……

“Sir… SIR,” faded in a tired feminine voice.

My eyes took a moment to discern her outline in the red, smoky darkness. It was even harder to figure her out since she was wearing black and her skin was red.

“Name and passport please,” she requested with the tone of a crushed retail worker.

“Dennis T Lawson,” I answered, holding up my ring finger.

She inspected the hand rather forcefully, then let me go. “And what’s in the bags?”

“Beans.”

……

After some wandering, I found the large hanging structure made of burning rock. It was rather precariously built into a stalactite in the roof of the massive magma cavern, and reachable only by the floating walkways. I headed on in, dodging the less stable-looking bricks in the stairs. Once on the 4th floor, I went down the humongous, dreary, dark hall, searching by apartment number. Four-ten, other side, four-eleven… four thirteen! I knocked and heard big footsteps rush over.

A number of locks rivaling my own were audibly undone before the gigantic-yet-thin stone door slid open. Jerrotram peeked out… and down. “OH, DENNIS. COME IN, COME IN, IT’S A BAD NEIGHBORHOOD.”

He stepped his 20-foot-tall self back and let me in before shutting the door. I looked him up and down. Last I saw him—on the way to Castle Sidia—he was in basically a big metal loincloth with some rusty bracers, but now? Friggin slacks and a white shirt. The apartment was basically a studio pasted right from home, but sized for him and made with, like, hardened molten rock and shit. Looked cooler than the average studio, though (to me, it’s probably like drywall and drop ceiling to Jerr).

“Nice place,” I commented with an empathetic twist on sarcasm.

“MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME. I’M ABOUT TO START DINNER.” He paused to think. “DRAT, I DO NOT HAVE THE TEA I PROMISED.”

I held up a hand as I hopped up to stand on a 12-foot-tall chair by the table. “I’ll consider your offer non-binding. Besides, I don’t think I’ll have the time to do anything more than a quick inspection on the pest side.” I pulled the bandolier of 4 E-D sacks off my shoulder. “I did bring you a little something, though.”

He stopped pouring out brown rice into the pot on his stove with a slightly awestruck expression. “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE! WHAT DO I OWE YOU?”

“For this? Nothing! Consider that statement binding. Bring some jars, I see you have empties.” He quickly did so and I soon poured out massive beans. His eyes bulged.

He was overjoyed and impressed by the major honkers of beans I’d brought. He ended up with 2 jars of those, as well as a shaker of salt and—most appreciated of all—a jar of coffee beans. It was only a couple of servings apiece at his size, but it still brightened his day to escape the monotony of rice and water. I started crawling around the cabinets to search for vermin routes while we talked. Varia had climbed out of my shirt again to skitter around the tiny gaps.

“So, whatcha working to afford the place?” I asked casually.

Jerr eagerly started the beans as he answered. “I AM A RECEPTIONIST FOR THE DEAD NOW.”

“Huh, isn’t that a traditionally female role? A pretty face and big boobs is literally written in the requirements section if I recall.”

“I HAVE THE PECTORALS FOR IT!” he jokingly answered. “IN TRUTH, THE LAST LADY QUIT SHORTLY AFTER BEING REASSEMBLED BY HER INSURANCE. APPARENTLY, THE SOULS OF SOME SORT OF WASP MONSTERS CAME DOWN AND ATE HER. THIS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE, SO MANAGEMENT SPOOKED AND HIRED MUSCLE FOR THE POSITION INSTEAD.”

I paused for a good long moment. “Interesting. I’m glad you got the job to get back on your feet!” I stopped again. “Might I ask what happened to the wasp monsters’ souls?”

“NO SOUL IN GOOD FUNCTION ATTACKS THOSE ADMITTING IT TO THE AFTERLIFE. THEREFORE, ALL TWO-HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN WERE SENT TO THE INCINERATOR.”

A big sigh of relief followed his answer.

……

“Anyways, I can’t really go into the details, but some stuff happened and now I need to seek legal counsel. My lawyer will swing by here and pick me up in like an hour,” I explained as I took a bite of giant bean. “Buh befr theh, aws wunrin ‘f I coul use y’bathtub.”

Jerr stopped shoveling down his rice and beans for a moment. He thought long and hard about why I would want to submerge myself in lava, then he figured it out. “WHAT DID YOU CATCH THAT MAGIC CAN’T FIX?” he inquired.

“It’s more of a precaution, really. I probably didn't catch anything, but I don’t want to take the risk, considering what happened. That’s all I can really say. I do have the potion, by the way.”

“GO AHEAD THEN, BILLS ARE INCLUDED WITH RENT.” Right then, a little fuzzy head finally poked out of my shirt as Varia got over her new-person fright. “OHH! THAT IS ADORABLE! HOW DID YOU GET THE LICENSE FOR A MAGMA FERRET?”

……

I heard Varia enjoying her playtime with Jerr through the bathroom door as I stripped naked in front of a tub o’ lava. The cork on the orange potion made a nice pop as I downed the small vial, then waited for it to kick in. With a prod of the pinkie finger, I felt the warmth without any burn, so I hopped in, or, on in this case. I slowly broke the surface of the lava and sunk in, feeling about like a hot tub.

After a good 20-minute soak, my body temp passed 1,500°, which pretty much guaranteed that—no matter how magical—any intruding organism in my body was toast. I dipped my head down and submerged, then got out to towel off. It would be a while before I could put on my clothes again…

……

I was in the middle of writing up a list of items needed to vermin-proof the place when a knock fell on the door. Jerr looked up from some reports he needed to file next morning to go answer. He slid the door open to reveal a man of my size, clean-shaven, with impeccably kempt black hair, and a business suit that could bankrupt most anyone who came within a mile. His horns were understated, but not lacking. My lawyer stepped inside with deadly, calculated grace.

“Good day, Mr. Maurokus. I am Chivos Drivellum, and I have come to collect Dennis,” he explained whilst locating me with those soulless eyes.

I slipped over to stand next to him as Jerr’s eyes narrowed. “YOUR NAME SUGGESTS YOU WERE MANUFACTURED SPECIFICALLY TO BE A LAWYER. I’VE READ IT SOMEWHERE TOO. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO BROKE THE SYSTEM BY MARRYING A… GODS'… CHOSEN…”

Jerr trailed off, seeing my lawyer’s arm draped over my shoulder, Chivos and I simultaneously flashed our left hands with conspicuously matching bands of black (we’d rehearsed the timing). “Tadaa!” I added.

“It was his idea. He got all the legal benefits of being a GC before the loophole was closed, and after, since they grandfathered him in. Meanwhile, I get free legal counsel for life, and I leech off his dental insurance.”

“Mmm, yes, it would befit you to utilize the latter more,” he quipped dryly.

“I… HAD NOT FIGURED YOU FOR A HOMOSEXUAL, DENNIS. I HOPE I HAVE NOT SAID ANYTHING TO OFFEN–”

“Lemme stop you right there. I’m not, it’s just that he,” I pointed to Chivos, “was a she at the time. And it was a very nice dress.”

“It was, but you should see it after the retailoring. It is a showstopper now.”

I put a hand on my chest with fake drama in my voice. “Alas, ‘tis a loveless marriage. I barely see him, for he is so buried in his work. And then, shock and horror! His affairs are too numerous to count!” I dropped the act. “How many are you up to, by the by?”

The dapper demon counted in his head for a moment. “Four-hundred and two.”

I put my hands on my hips. “That’s only eleven more since last time! You’re slowing down.”

He raised a corrective finger. “I have been taking on more divorce cases as of late, which take far longer. Thus, fewer prospects are walking into my office.”

While I snickered, Jerr seemed a little bit lost. “IT SEEMS THERE IS A LOT I DON’T KNOW HERE. I SHOULD REALLY FILL OUT THESE FORMS BEFORE BED, YOU TWO GO ON AND HANDLE THINGS.”

He opened the door and we said some goodbyes before heading for the stairs. Chivos waited until we were a floor down before commenting.

“He seems an honest fellow if nothing else. I’m sure your meeting is an interesting tale.”

I made for the front door but had to turn again to follow Chivos toward the portal room instead. “Ehh, not really. He was one of the first in that collection of breakthrough jobs. Contracting out to the Hells was… well you know how long that lasted.”

“I am certainly glad I was able to contact you when I did. Next right.”

We turned again. “Yeah, anyway, Jerr’s had a rough go. Used to be fairly prominent in the muscle scene for the Hells but not anymore. Money is a bit tight for him now. Maybe you could help him with a classic financial sweep, pro-bono?”

We reached the portal. “How altruistic of you. I’ll see if one of my associates has the time.”

I gave him a 1-armed side-hug. "Hey, thanks. I don't mean to infect you with sympathy, but I appreciate you helping my friends."

He narrowed his eyes. “Anything for the hubs.”

A flash of red warped us away.

……

Chivos led me to his office, calmly but assertively clearing the way of lackeys and associates with only the tone of his voice. He even called on someone to keep Varia, since she was able to understand speech and would be legally better off not knowing. He leaned out the door one last time to firmly ensure nobody would come to bother us. Then we were closed into his office. Unlike most of the Hells, the legal offices were about exactly what one might expect, down to the nice walls, expensive imported furniture, and plenty of awards hung up all over the place.

It was another new desk from last time, but the same material; mahogany. They say the best lawyers in all the Hells buy ironwood, hoping that it might survive being smashed by an angry client. But the best of the best can afford a new mahogany every time. He sat across from me in his lavishly padded chair and put some blank paper on the desk.

“I don’t know how long this story of yours is,” he started, raising a phoenix-feather quill. “But let’s dispense with the pleasantries for the moment and get through it immediately. Lay it out; I won’t interrupt you.”

I interlaced my fingers, which was normally his move. “Alright, let’s go through it. The other party involved is a wizard by the name of Drominnus. His public title appended to that is ‘Grand Artificer’. It’s self-given.”

Chivos scratched out calligraphic notes while silently signaling for me to continue. “Twenty days ago, he contacted me with a request. I owed him a favor from early on in the business, and it was a big one. I went to talk to him with my guard up since he is a known egomaniac at times. I did bring one of the recording devices you gave me, but it was detected and disabled.

“To summarize, his own lawyer—who I inferred was hellborne—had found a loophole in celestial law which gave Drominnus the means to mount an expedition into the Shimmerlands. He wanted me to do it, but I initially refused, so he threatened blackmail by shutting down the calling stones and blaming it on me.”

Those jet-black eyebrows sprung up at the audacity of such a threat, considering the Hells, the League of Conspicuous Evil, and the more nebulous forces of good all rely heavily on the stones. Still, he let me continue.

“Anyhow, he wanted me to go clear this stupid place called the Tomb of Instability, and to do it he–”

Chivos halted his writing and looked up. “Stop.”

“What? I haven’t even got to the super-illegal part! And you said no interruptions.”

He looked me in the eye, deadly serious. “Did you go to the Tomb of Instability?”

“Yes.”

“And did you clear it, and slash or did you collect an item of importance from the lowest level of said dungeon?”

“I did. The place collapsed afterward.”

He remained silent, his gaze slowly drifting away from my eyes. Then he stood. “First of all, how in all the heavens did you manage that?” He raised a hand. “Don’t answer. I need to call someone in. I don’t think you’re in trouble, but this is serious. Stay here.”

He marched out of the room with a far more aggressive urgency to his gait. I leaned back in my slightly less comfortable chair and sighed. You never can just touch a macguffin and get off scot-free these days.

……

Chivos had returned looking somewhat uneasy. He’d also poured us both a shot of bourbon, which I’d never seen him do in his office. Apparently, he was legally obligated to inform the Department of Prophecies and Plot Devices if informed of particularly significant events… such as the world’s biggest super dungeon getting soloed by a pest exterminator and part-time smartass. I was not to continue telling him anything until someone from the DPPD was there to listen in. It had gotten rather awkward all of a sudden as we tried to busy ourselves.

While he wrapped up a call in female form—retaining sex appeal for the male client—I looked up at the wall, searching for new awards.

“Best in region for client sexual retention rate?” I read aloud. “Is that a new one?”

He finished the call and morphed back to male. “It is. I won with sixty-two percent of my clientele. It was… stiff competition.” I managed not to laugh as he turned up his nose. “Difficult criteria as well. Must begin relations during billable hours, then successfully initiate on no less than three separate occasions a minimum of one week apart after completing their case.”

“Wow, you really went for it then. What’s your rating from the ethics board now?”

“An exceptional ninety-eight of one-hundred, of course. They said I would achieve a perfect hundred once I master the art of extending billable hours, but I find efficiency more rewarding than two measly points.”

I sat up straight with a smirk. “And that’s why I married you. Always straightforward and efficient, not one to dick around unless… morally obligated.” We shared an amused huff, then I remembered. “Oh, that’s right! I got you something.”

I dug out the well-packed rose and passed it to Chivos. He slowly peeled away the wrappings and found the glossy obsidian contents. Jokingly, he smelled it.

“Hmm, unwashed hands.” He proceeded to inspect it. “There are small-yet-visible mistakes, though they have been corrected for. You can tell the petals were formed by pressing glass between the thumb on the inside against fingers on the outside. It is… artisan. I like it.”

I leaned back in my chair again. “Huh, always an eye for perfection, eh? How long before a client smashes it in a rage? A month?”

“Perhaps. It depends on which vase I place it in. In the one I’m thinking, it might last… forever.”

Right then, a harsh knocking fell on the door. The knob turned and what I might describe as Hellboy in a pinstripe mafioso suit with the matching fedora stepped inside, along with one of Chivos’ associates. The former identified himself as an agent of the DPPD and the latter was a specialist in government affairs.

Chivos transformed the desk into a round meeting table and summoned two more chairs for the new entrants into the conversation. A quick non-disclosure agreement was passed around and signed (in blood, of course). Then, it was down to brass tacks.

Agent Amorthon faced me with his hands on the table. “Now, please retell your story from the relevant beginning. Do not spare the details.”

I leaned forward. “Well, it all started with me owing a favor to this wizard named Drominnus.”

……

Catastrophic shitshows are like onions (and ogres); they have layers. After so many tame details and semi-useless asides that I presented, I would eventually reach the next layer and drop some morsel of information that shocked the room, often without expecting the reaction.

Layer 1: Drominnus has a killswitch for the entire calling stone network. I'm told his contract selling the license for use to the Hells had a clause forbidding such… oh well, his fault for doing it, not mine for pointing it out. He may have just been lying, but that’s not my problem either.

Layer 2: The fucking spell. Apparently, the connection to Earth is known by several sources other than Drominnus, and the linkage is so incredibly draped in red tape that nobody in the know dares touch it. Except Drominnus… even more scarily, he might have been legally in the clear with the spell… but…

Layer 3: Guns guns guns. Upside is that firearms (plus electronics and explosives) aren’t explicitly banned by underworld law, but that’s only because they have celestial law on file, which is incorporated. The fast and loose consensus was that there was no way to prove I had possession of a firearm or other illegal item inside a jurisdictional area without subpoenaing my memories, which cannot be done due to GC exemptions. Amorthon seemed keenly, unreasonably, perhaps even pornographically interested in how effectively I dispatched foes using firearms and explosives.

Layer 4: Gods generally don’t pull people aside and quote their own laws to people, nor let them off with no consequences. Really, they just don’t talk to people at all. That begged the question: Why did Grunnus want shit to happen? Why did he even talk to me? Nobody really knew…

Layer 5: Orcs aren’t legally allowed to reach A+ rating, which the village I found did. Fortunately for them, the Shimmerlands doesn’t have a single governing body willing to go and enforce... well, anything, so they’re in the clear. Fuck the system, those guys rocked.

Layer 6: Everything I saw in the tomb before the monster cells. The Hells were/are keenly interested in details, but were unable to send effective expeditions. It seems most demons will explode if they use their innate magic, and, if killed, they reform in the Hells with the demon equivalent of either brain damage or autism for the next thousand years… Anything I could offer on the interior and mechanisms was lapped up eagerly. Especially the landline phone bit.

Layer 7: The cage farms. Amorthon informed me that the dozen or so demons I’d rescued from the tomb were making a concerted effort to notify the authorities of what they had experienced… only to be dismissed as grifters in search of rewards for information. My report not only vindicated them, but made them persons of interest… oh boy, my condolences to them. The other survivors and especially the magitech behind it all was also quite interesting to the agent…

Layer 8: The boss fight. It turned out that the wizard I’d reported over the cazador incident ended up getting a formal complaint sent around, so the appearance of a fear-maker sigil (as it had been dubbed in my absence) was of particular note. Especially since it—as presumably god-made magic—created a fucking tank, which should be illegal under celestial law.

Layer 9: The tube. The room was dead silent as I described that particular item. When the silence broke, it turned out nobody had a goddamn clue what it was. All we knew was what it looked like, and its likely importance. It also came out that there is no legal way for the Hells to acquire it from Drominnus other than having him sign it over of his own volition. All I can say is… good luck with that.

Layer 10: The convoy and Aludagriel. The exodus I led out of the Shimmerlands created a list of persons a thousand names long, each of which the hells would be dying to interview in some capacity. I could only provide a few dozen names, and only after an agreement was drafted and signed relating to fair treatment and lack of harm to said persons. As for Aludagriel, he’d be going right to the top in the Heavens’ chain of command and telling everything he knows. That could lead to anything between a holy angelic crusade and nothing at all. All things considered, the Heavens would probably continue to sit around with their collective thumbs up their asses.

And then was layer 11… I explained that I was smote twice upon stepping out of my shop and the note that followed. Then, I pulled out my stat card, something that most demons worth their salt knew about, but few had ever seen. I slid it to the center of the table.

“As you can see—despite being smote with the well-known bolt of lightning technique—I still have all my numbers up. A god attacked me… and it bounced with a clang.” I flipped the card over to the status effects section. “Anybody care to take a crack at these?”

The hieroglyphs caught everyone’s attention. My card was quickly passed around with all parties trying and failing to read it. Amorthon copied the text exactly onto a piece of paper before speaking up.

“This is not a known language. I will state with some confidence that it has not been seen anywhere else in the world, except maybe the artifact you found in the tomb. Do you recall if it had matching symbols?”

“I do not recall,” I answered in a certain attorney general’s voice.

There was a collective, frustrated nod around the table as Amorthon resumed his questioning. “Is there anything that happened after that we should be aware of?”

“No sir. This failed smiting was at approximately four o'clock this morning. I have only slept, eaten, and performed minimal supply shopping before I came here.”

Chivos chimed in. “We can all appreciate my client’s punctuality. On that note, the next outbound tele-pulse is in twenty minutes. If you have any questions, ask them now. Else, we must adjourn for my client’s sake.”

I placed my hand on a little lie-detecting widget Chivos had put on the table earlier to assuage disbelief. “I solemnly swear that I have not willingly committed any lie or omission to the record deliberately. I also swear that when I remember undisclosed pertinent information I will update my lawyer, who shall forward such information to the relevant authorities as needed.”

There was a little ding, signifying truth. Agent Amorthon stood from his chair and collected the written transcript made by the government affairs specialist. “I appreciate your honesty and candor, Mr. Lawson. I have a lot of forms and reports to file pertaining to this case now, so I must thank you for the job security.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Amorthon.”

“At the same time, I despise you for the next week of my life that will be spent on nothing but ink and paper.” He huffed. “You will likely qualify for witness protection. Expect one of our strongest spooks to be assigned to you within the week. Good day.”

He donned his snazzy fedora and stepped out of the room, which lowered the temperature of the air by a few degrees. Chivos dismissed the associate and poured us another round.

“I don’t know how you manage it, but you continue to somehow cause more of a stir than a dozen seasoned Gods’ Chosen. What is your secret?”

“Dunno, a mix of connections and shitty luck, maybe?” I took a swig of the expensive drink. “Why do you still serve me the good stuff anyway? I have the palate of a feral warthog.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead buying a cheaper bottle. The gossip of me refilling a good glass with bad booze would be never-ending.”

“Fair enough.” My thoughts returned to the situation.“Back on track for a moment, are we sticking to ‘big shit’ protocol?”

He leaned forward to press on his temple. “Yes. All requests for comment go through me. Regular check-ins, call if you have doubts about anything, full legal stonewalling, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Alrighty then, nothing else left to do here.” I stood up and moseyed over. “Let’s get the goodbyes in, yeah?”

Chivos stood from his padded throne. “Very well. Expect regular faxes from me, and I will call with updates the moment they arise outside of regular check-in times. The onus will fall on you to call back.”

“Ayup,” I answered as I placed my palm on his cheek and kissed the back of my hand. “May your filings be error-free and indisputable.”

He did the same, fulfilling a basic, legally-mandated quota for affection in order for our system-destroying marriage to persist. “May your business be as mundane as you desire.”

I bowed out. “Thanks for your help, as always, ‘wifey’.”

The room darkened as I departed, leaving only two glowing orange eyes as Chivos shifted back to female for a moment. “Always a pleasure to help my dear husband” he/she answered in a masterfully creepy tone. It gave me a good chuckle on the way out.

Varia hopped on my shoulder from a table where she’d been waiting patiently. “Hey girl, you ready to go back home home and do some normal shit?” I asked.

She squealed with excitement and nodded happily. Best ferret ever.