Chapter 32: A speech to give and a war to organize

The Marriott was just down the street. They walked and ate Manna bread as they went, James having decided to bow out of the last slate of meetings, consequences be damned.

“You’re looking upset,” said Jessica. “But you’re about to make a lot of first impressions. Do you need a moment before proceeding to the next step?”

James stopped. Frowned around the avenue. Weird how things looked almost normal around this downtown core. No demon symbols in immediate sight, the coffee shop across the way was open with a bunch of government assistants getting to-go orders. Bird calls.

How many people would have to die till they started seeing deer walking down these streets?

“I’ve made a decision,” he said, tone heavy.

Serenity raised an eyebrow. “Ruh roh.”

“I’m done going to the NYCEM. Unless they demand my appearance, I’m not going back for the foreseeable future.”

Jessica went to protest then caught herself. “Go on.”

“Use some of the DRC money to hire someone you trust to sit in whatever meetings you think are important and report back to you. You filter that shit and let me know what I need to know. But we wasted an entire morning being told stuff that doesn’t really involve us and over which we have no influence. The Second Wave is that much closer, and what do we have to show for it?”

“You can’t sidestep politics,” said Jessica. “It’s distasteful, but resources and influence come from being seen, making personal connections, and being aware of what’s going on.”

“Fuck politics.” He said it without rancor. “I’m not a politician. I’m barely a Deputy Commissioner. What I really am is an old guy who somehow ended up making some lucky choices up front. That gave me an edge, but if I keep sitting in on those pointless meetings I’ll lose it.”

“All right,” said Jessica hesitantly. “Done.”

“From now on I’m going to focus on leveling and leveling everyone who shows up to join the DRC. This is New York. I want you to find someone who makes functional medieval weapon replicas. There’s gotta be someone out there with proper spears and shields and crap. It’s idiotic to be fighting these demons with rebar. Our ancestors spent centuries perfecting those very tools. I want them.”

“Medieval replicas,” said Jessica, tapping on her tablet. “Got it.”

“We could steal shit from the MET,” said Serenity. “They have a bunch of swords and helmets on display.”

“I want new stuff. I want top grade steel, not whatever they managed to hammer out six hundred years ago. Find me that shop, that blacksmith, whatever, and then let me know what he’s got that we can buy.”

“Done.”

“Good.” James felt like he wanted to say more, instigate more changes, but there weren’t any other moral dessert carts to flip over. “What have you got planned for this first DRC meeting?”

“Time for the debrief.” Jessica began walking. “Some stats up front. We’ve received 10,346 applications across all media channels claiming to be at least Level 5. A good third failed the simple quiz that a real Level 5 would pass, leaving us with 6,501 qualified applicants. The breakdown is as follows: 3,822 Level 5’s, of which half chose what we call Smite, a quarter chose Bless, and the remaining quarter chose Shield of Faith.”

“What we call?” asked James dubiously.

“It’s widely accepted now that different religious outlook results in different terminology being used on one’s personal statistic’s sheet.”

“That’s…” James shook his head. “So this isn’t a Catholic thing?”

“Not exclusively, no. There’s a lot of overlap between Jewish and Christian sheets, but Hindu, Islamic, and Buddhist sheets are quite distinct, with documented examples of atheist and other religions appearing.”

James came to a stop. “Atheists get their own sheets, too?”

“That’s correct.” Jessica navigated on her tablet. “An overview was published by Johns Hopkins University…. Yesterday? They’ve collated all the different versions.” She opened a file. “I didn’t forward it because I doubted you’d read it.”

“But what does this mean, then? God’s not behind this invasion?”

“Maybe all the gods are,” said Serenity brightly. “They got together in the club room and decided to have fun.”

“As you can imagine, there are very intense theological debates taking place, but nobody has managed to reach a definitive conclusion. Here, I’ve forwarded the PDF to your Gmail account. I’d encourage you to read it when you have a moment. But as I was saying?”

James shook his head and resumed walking. “The Monitor said her kind were compelled by another group to do all this. If it’s not the Catholic god, then who is it?”

“Lots of possibilities,” said Serenity, counting off on her fingers. “Aliens, obviously. Fairies out of Ireland. Atlanteans. Those fuckers from Carcosa.”

“Carcosa?” asked James.

“Yeah, Lost Carcosa?” Serenity stared at him in mock surprise, then intoned:

“Strange is the night where black stars rise,

And strange moons circle through the skies

But stranger still is

Lost Carcosa.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” asked James.

“The King in Yellow? Chambers’s classic? Nothing?” Both Jessica and James stared at her. “Wow, this joke really didn’t land. I went through a goth phase in high school, read all that good shit, Maturin, Lovecraft - you know what? Doesn’t matter. Jessica?”

“Thank you. So we have 3,822 Level 5’s, 1,207 Level 6’s, 821 Level 7’s, 544 Level 8’s, 75 Level 9’s, and 32 Supplicant 1’s.”

“32? That’s great. Any of them go down the Bless or Shield of Faith route?”

“Yes. Revealing new Benedictions. Shield of Faith opens up a second tier consisting of Remove Fear, Healing Grace, and Circle of Protection. Bless unlocks Dark Energy Siphon, Aura Mastery, and Inspiration.”

James slowed his pace again. “Dark Energy Siphon?”

“Only one person has chosen it, and then promptly chose to not fill out that field in the Google Form.”

“Sounds ominous,” said James. “Give me a run down on the other Benedictions.”

“Sure. Circle of Protection acts as a defensive perimeter across which demons cannot pass unless they spiritually overwhelm the caster. Even then, crossing the perimeter results in their being burned, like a minor Aura effect. Doesn’t preclude objects being thrown across, however.”

“Oh shit, that sounds great,” said Serenity. “Fill the perimeter with Deadeyes, and whammo, you got yourself a killer turret set-up.”

“Indeed. Remove Fear hasn’t seen much use yet, but I think speaks to future demon powers. It’s the least chosen of what we’re calling the defensive power set. Healing Grace allows the caster to heal anyone within their line of sight as if spending an Aeviternum point. It’s powerful but seems to cost a lot of divine power to cast.”

“Also incredibly useful,” said James. “I’m starting to see how all these different powers synergize well together.”

“The Bless second tier are as follows: Aura Mastery is the most popular, and allows the caster to weaponize their aura, shaping it and attacking with it. Inspiration is a charismatic power that allows the caster to compel bravery and obedience from others; the military has flagged it as problematic, and those who choose the power are kept under close scrutiny.”

“Some overlap there with Remove Fear,” said James. “Psychological power. I guess future demons will make staying in the field challenging.”

“Dark Energy Siphon sounds bad-ass,” said Serenity. “What do you think it is? A way to steal demon power?”

“Could be,” said James, not nearly as enthused.

“Now, of the 6,501 candidates, half are based in the NYC area, with a good number of the other half promising to travel here to assist. Of the 3,000 or so locals, only 1,000 have registered at the Marriott check-in -”

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“Wait, what?” James turned to stare at her. “There’s a thousand folks waiting for me at the Marriott?”

“Roughly, yes, though the number who showed up are weighted toward the lower power levels. The elites, as I think of them, seem to have a greater independent streak.”

James stopped walking again and pressed his fingers to his temples. “I’m going to go organize a thousand people?”

“No, because I’m the one who has been doing the organizing. Second part of the debrief.” She tapped her tablet, swiped. “I’ve requisitioned another million or so dollars from the Rainy-Day Fund. It’s criminal, how little oversight there currently is. With that money I’ve arranged for a dozen assistants to be hired on - in effect I tripled everyone’s salary whose work ethic I admire and poached them for our department. I also hired a Comic Con convention manager to help handle the situation -”

“How the fuck did you find a Comic Con convention manager?” asked Serenity, bewildered.

“LinkedIn. They’re already on site, and have taken over the registration process, repurposed their own documents to our benefit, and are keeping the attendees busy and organized till we arrive, primarily by running screenings of MST3K and Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the ballrooms. Not ideal, but better than nothing. I’ve also hired Richard Stokes to help us strategize.”

“Who’s he?” asked James.

“An old friend of mine. A freelance coder for Google, technically, but he’s devoted most of his life - wisely, it turns out - to gaming.”

“You’ve lost me,” said James.

“In effect he’s spent the majority of his life figuring out how to optimize arbitrary rule sets so as to increase his chances of success. I thought of him yesterday while trying to determine the optimum way of organizing our DRC members, and in five minutes he gave me invaluable advice.”

James frowned pensively. “A gamer. Sure. Why not. What did he suggest?”

They reached the end of the block, crossed.

“That every system is purposefully designed to be used in a certain manner, and that figuring out the intended use is key to the first step in optimization.”

“There’s a second step?” asked Serenity.

“Apparently Richard lives for the second step. That’s where you out-think the designers and detect loopholes and unintended synergies that allow you to break the system to your advantage.”

James raised both brows. “That sounds good. He come up with anything already?”

“Not yet. He said there are still too many unknowns. But he suggested we should create teams that contain equitable spreads of all levels and Benedictions. Ideally we should be fielding squads of nine, one for each Benediction, with a spread of levels so that the lower rankers can benefit from the protection of the senior members and accrue power quickly. He’s taken the Google Form data and created roughly a hundred teams, with protocols to compensate and swap members depending on who shows and who doesn’t. Cindy, the convention manager, received those team structures late last night, and has already sorted the attendance badges so that people will be assigned to the correct teams upon registering in the Grand Ballroom.”

“Shit,” said James. “You guys don’t mess around.”

Jessica gave him a prim smile. “There are a lot of very talented and intelligent people in this world, and almost all of them long for the day when red tape gets cut and they’re allowed to work to their fullest capacity. I aim to make the DRC such an organization.”

“Fantastic. Where do Serenity and I fit into this team mix?”

“Richard wanted to separate you both. He argued that the teams would benefit from having visible leadership spread out across the organization, but I made an executive decision to keep you together.”

“Thank god,” said Serenity. “I’d hate to wreck your little system by refusing to go along with it from the get-go.”

“So we’re to be in the same squad? Excellent.”

“Squad Crimson Hydra,” said Jessica. “In direct control of Squads Ebon Hydra and Ivory Hydra. Cindy came up with the names. The preponderance of Level 5’s meant that we couldn’t equitably distribute the higher ranked members amongst them all, so Richard instead devised a system where an elite squad - always designated as ‘Crimson’ - leads two sub-squads, each of which is led by a higher ranked member, ‘Ebon’ and ‘Ivory’. There are about thirty-seven such triads, each with their own mythological beast as their avatar.”

“OK.” James absorbed this information. “Thirty-seven groups of three squads, with each led by an elite ‘Crimson’ group. All of which are as closely divided between Benedictions and levels as possible. Sounds like Richard’s already earning his pay.”

“He’s working for free,” said Jessica. “He fully expects the economy to crash by the time the Pits open, and thus was happy to embed himself in our department for safety’s sake in lieu of payment. I’ve asked him to keep his outlook to himself.”

“Sounds like he and I are going to get along.” James rubbed at his face. The Marriott had come into view down the block on the other side of the street. “You got my arrival figured out?”

“Yes. I told Cindy half an hour ago to start gathering people in the Grand Ballroom. Richard is currently giving the department setup overview presentation as well as his own version of the government’s advancement guidelines. He’s going to wrap up by reviewing the radios everyone’s being issued, and protocols for their usage. He should be done by 11:15, upon which you both will take the stage.”

James nodded. “And I’m to do what up there?”

“Honestly? Be yourself. It’s your sincerity and authenticity that drew all these people here in the first place. They’ve left their loved ones and personal situations to respond to your call. Anything scripted would thus fall flat. Get up there, tell them how you see things, and what you’re hoping to achieve. It’s up to you if you want to take questions. Then, when you’re done, I think you should meet with the Crimson squad leaders - there’s currently thirty-seven of them registered - and then take time with Crimson Hydra. We’ve got lunch around twelve-thirty - I promised $6,000 for pizza delivery from Uptown Pizza - and then we head out on whatever you deem our first mission should be.”

“We’re hitting the demon symbols,” said James firmly. “The army’s tackling one of them, leaving - how many are there again in NYC?”

Jessica didn’t even have to tap her tablet. “Thirty-four in the area.”

“That’s it? I thought there were hundreds.”

“You thought wrong. Two in Staten Island, six in Manhattan, four along the Jersey coast across the Hudson, five in the Bronx, eight in Queens, and nine in Brooklyn. One seems to appear wherever there’s a minimum population density of 250,000 within at least eight or so square miles.”

James absorbed this, changed his world view, then nodded. “Fine. That means we have eight other targets here in Brooklyn alone. We’ve thirty-seven triads? What do you think’s a good number to send against a symbol?”

Jessica shrugged apologetically. “I’m not sure.”

“Better safe than sorry in the beginning,” said Serenity. “Why don’t we tackle three symbols, three groups of twelve triads each?”

“That’s twelve times twenty-seven,” said James.

“Three hundred and twenty-four individuals,” said Jessica smoothly.

“A good amount. Fuck.” James ran his hand through his hair. “But what if it isn’t?”

“You want to tackle two symbols instead?” asked Serenity. “Five hundred against each one?”

“We could approach the dead zone from four sides,” said James pensively. “Four or five triads a side. Maybe, yeah. It’ll be our first outing fighting like this. Better to build in some redundancy and keep things safe.”

“If that’s your primary concern,” said Jessica, “then why not extinguish one symbol with the full DRC first? That would be about nine triads per side, around 250 individuals on each front.”

“I think we should speak with Richard,” said James. “But yeah. We’re going to war as soon as we’re done talking. And I don’t intend to stop ever again. We’ve only got 15 days till Nemesis 3 shows up. We’ve lost too much time already.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Serenity. “I just need a bigger gun.”

“I’ve got a present waiting for you at the Marriott,” said Jessica.

“You do?” Serenity beamed at the other woman. “Jessica, I fully retract all the things I’ve said behind your back.”

“Nice,” said Jessica, her smile turning pained.

“Then let’s get going.” James checked his new phone. 11:05. “I’ve got a speech to give and a war to organize.”

Serenity looped her arm though his. “Can’t wait! This is going to be so much fun!”

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