With the recent developments on Nu-Earth it was a good time for the multiverse to be afraid of me again, of what I could do. My new and upgraded abilities would help push my reputation.

Maybe even raise my credit score.

With some manipulation of my ‘magic’ helmet, I found I was able to get a real time speed out of it, in a language I could understand, miles per hour.

I quickly reached terminal velocity, just over one-hundred-and-twenty-four miles per hour. The reason I knew this was terminal velocity is because I couldn’t get myself to go any faster. I turned, angled my limbs, and flattened my body in the direction I was going.

Nothing helped.

So I concentrated hard. I focused on the Prescott tower, I focused on home. I thought of Molls, probably in her hot room, taking a sand bath in preparation for leaving Nu-Earth. Of my desire to get back to her.

The wind, uncomfortable before, became suddenly painful, and I looked up to see the Prescott tower looming. I swerved in a failed attempt to avoid it, bounced off the hardened upper floor window, and plunged face-first toward the pavement below.

The gravitic drive attempted to compensate as I landed, and I ended up bouncing once in a belly flop, before landing a second time unsteadily on my feet.

A gaping crowd of people formed around me, complete with flashing phones. My cartoon starfish appeared in the midst of them and started snapping pictures of its own.

“Sorry user, but you can only accelerate and decelerate so fast. Don’t worry! You’ll get better at using the drive!”

Tendrils deployed to take care of the road rash I’d gotten in my belly flop, and I shook my mirrored head. I thought of the top of the tower, and jumped, launching up to it in a single leap.

My starfish appeared again, landing in a mocking super hero pose. “See! Good work user, you’re getting the hang of it already! Gravitic control is hard!”

The suit was sensing my intention and manipulating my personal gravity in an attempt to give me what I wanted. Flying felt like falling but functioned like flying because the suit knew that was what I wanted.

An important detail to remember when controlling this thing.

The roof door slammed open and a hobb in heavy armor with an active shield stepped out, raising a laser rifle at me. He realized who I was and lowered the weapon, before saluting me, and speaking into a shoulder mounted radio.

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Spacer Communications. Your friends in Global Tactical Planning and Execution. 9500 morties. 4.3 stars.

Rayna tried to get me to carry one of those around, but I kept breaking equipment. And while Silken Sands profit was always expanding, its population was expanding as well. All decisions had to be made at a sensical and strategic level, and my tendency to ‘Tyson Smash’, as Tollya called it, had to be accounted for.

Eventually she put a stop to it, by saying the bill for MortMobile was cheaper than replacing my gear.

The hobb guard escorted me down to my penthouse, but hesitated to enter, instead saluting me again at the door.

Molls was dressed in a light, pink dress that I’d never seen her wear before. She was in the middle of packing, and had stopped to cry, coiled on our oversized bed surrounded by luggage.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. My helmet siphoned away into my pores.

Her scales flushed pink to match her dress, and she turned her head to wipe her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she said, wiping her eyes and rising from the bed to hug and kiss me. “Hi.”

I scowled and returned the kiss. “Hi yourself,” I replied. “I still want to know why you were crying.”

Molls’ scales filled with a light green, pushing the pink color out. “My mother, of course,” she huffed. “She’s been messaging me since Baja.” Another burst of pink color swirled into the green and she grabbed a nearby towel to catch another oversized tear.

“We should still be in Baja. I’m sorry,” I said.

“No, I get it. You have your wars to run, and I have to go deal with my family. Reassure them that I haven’t lost my way, fallen in with bad actors, or become a raging drug addict,” she said, turning away and collapsing in a heap on the bed.

“That Tyson Dawes, we’ve been watching him on the programs and news. He isn’t good. He is NoMart,” she said in a mocking high-pitched tone. I struggled not to smile, knowing that her cute humor was serious in context. “And I can’t even pack. All the commotion in the city is so distracting.”

“Are you taking a portal?” I asked.

She nodded, writhing her tail on the bed and shoving luggage out of the way. “Of course. Mother insists. They’re paying for it, so I can’t really complain. About that part, anyway.”

“Can you afford to get a portal back?” I asked, sitting down on the bed beside her.

She frowned. “Over that distance, it would take most of my personal account, without a deposit and significant wait time.”

I reached a hand out and grasped hers, and she squirmed around until she was leaning in my lap. “Well, why don’t you place a ticket for one as soon as you get there? That way, it’ll be cheaper by the time you’re ready to leave,” I offered.

“Yes, I’ll do that,” Molls grumped. “Still, I doubt my mother is going to imprison me or something. She’s not that bad.”

I took a deep breath and stared out the window at my city. Prescott was in full retreat, BlueCleave hobbs everywhere ushering residents and business people up to the second floors of nearby buildings, and setting up roadblocks to funnel the dream storm, if it got that far.

“I’m sorry to ask, but are you sure about that?” I finally asked.

Molls blinked up at me and started slowly turning red. After a long moment, she sighed and said, “no.”

I patted her tail, our signal for her to let me up, and she uncoiled from my waist. I walked to our personal vault, another stolen Dearth convenience. Axle had wiped it for me and set it up for my own personal use. The room was essentially a panic room, coded to the DNA of a select few people. Molls, Rayna, Tollya, Lee, Axle, Jada, and myself.

Inside were stored the treasures we’d taken from the Wizard, and the other Dearth board members I’d usurped. Any loot from the board members that my hobbs had taken out got divided up between them, with only a small, honorary percentage being sent to me after they were sold. But the Wizard’s gear I had kept.

Magic, while not at all real, was powerful in the BuyMort system.

There was a strange mythos around magic items in BuyMort, I quickly noticed. After my battle with the Wizard, he’d gone on a media blitz, showing off his mangled thumbs and denouncing me as ‘magically perverse,’ whatever that meant.

I walked in the secure room and opened a wall safe at the back, retrieving a bag of magic rings. The Wizard had whined about them on air, so I wore them on church TV for a few weeks before the back and forth got old. Axle had done some digging and identified most of them for me.

Molls was still flopped out on our bed when I returned and tossed the bag of rings down next to her. She scowled and reached for it, drawing the strings open.

“Babe! These are your magic rings!” she exclaimed. “Why are you giving them to me?”

I sat back down on the bed and raised one of the rings up, showing her the pink jewel encased in its gold filigree cage. “This one is a mega-shield. Wear it please, it’ll keep you safe from attacks. It’s not like our hobbs shields, it’ll stop a slow attack too.”

I raised a finger and willed the item’s ad into the air before us. There were trumpets, and a sparkling tune, the sort of psychic hotline bullshit that was designed to make people feel mystified.

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BEHOLD THE RING OF PROTECTION, MARK 3. THIS SPIRIT FOCUS WILL BOTH ENLIGHTEN YOUR MIND AND PROTECT YOU FROM THE BEINGS OF THE PHYSICAL PLANE.

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18,000,000 morties. 4.9 stars.

Molls’s eyes sparkled, quite wide, as she took in all of the theatrics.

“It’s an energy shield. A mega-energy shield. There’s no such thing as magic,” I said, waving my hand to dismiss the hocus pocus. “But damn is it a fine item. There is a lot of power in these rings. They’re very high quality.”

I filtered around in the bag some more and found one with a thick band of green crystal running its length. “This one does acid splash, with very little recharge, and it’ll protect you against Sleem immersion.”

“Of course there’s such a thing as magic, don’t be silly. Flick the ad, Tyson. I enjoy them,” Molls said, smiling.

I chuckled and let it loose.

ENTERING INTO A DANGEROUS AND DARK PLACE? HAVE NO FEAR, ADVENTURER, FOR ARCANUM INDUSTRIES HATH ARRIVED!

I was impressed. This one seemed to have gone even further in. A voice actor was crying out the words as if he were some archmage atop a mountain in the midst of magical maelstrom.

THE DANGERS ARE MANY. FORSOOTH, HAVE YE NOT WORN THE RING OF ACID PROTECTION?

FLY, ADVENTURERS. MAKE HASTE! ARCANUM INDUSTRIES IS OPEN AND READY TO SERVE. ACID PROTECTION OF THE FINEST QUALITY. 1,800,000 morties. 4.7 stars

The ad faded away and Molls took the ring, sliding it onto a dainty, scaled finger. “I love it,” she said, kissing me.

We found a few others, enough for her to carry and wear while she was out of my protection. The thought of her being a few universes away suddenly scared me, though I was also afraid of what could happen to her if she stayed on Nu-Earth.

“If you can’t get home, just sell as many of those as you need to get a portal. Head straight for Silken Sands, Lee or Axle will take care of you,” I said, looking her in the eyes. “Or just ask Morbin for help when you arrive, he’ll get the hobbs if you need them.”

Molls met my eyes and smiled. “You worry too much, my love,” she said, reaching to embrace me.

I happily buried myself in her scales, hugging her tight as her tail gently wrapped around me. “I really like your outfit,” I replied, trying to distract her. She’d told me she loved me a few times already, and began referring to me as her love, which I enjoyed, but struggled to reciprocate.

It wasn’t that I didn’t feel that way about her. There was just something that held me back from expressing it. Anytime I tried, that cold thing in my chest twisted again and I shut down. It felt like fear, but I didn’t feel fear the same anymore, since the suit. The entire situation made me highly uncomfortable.

She plucked at it and grimaced. “Mother prefers me in a dress, or my priest robes. Can’t wear those around her until I’m officially reinstated, so dress it is.”

I scowled and shook my head. “So wear whatever you like,” I answered.

Molls rolled her oversized green eyes, and said, “And deal with her griping about my outfit all night? No thank you. Trust me babe, she’s much easier to deal with when placated.”

Her scales flushed green and orange, and she sarcastically sighed.

“I’m a good-girl for mommy.”

“But not for me?” I said, wry smile on my lips.

Molls scales began shifting to purple and she shook her head with a smile of her own. “What do you have to complain about, exactly?” she asked, while pressing her breasts down on top of me and undulating her tail across my body.

“Not a thing,” I whispered, drawing her closer.