Chapter 8: Meeting Mom

  Thursday, July 9th, 2020

  Location: Earth, United States of America, Dallas Texas.

  “Fire, what?” said the nurse as I jerked my head up. Panic rising as she looked right at me then smiled. Completely oblivious to the blue box that was in front of me just a moment ago. Although, the next box that I had expected to pop up did not do so. Seemingly aware of the unintended interruption.

  “Nothing,” I said as the Nurse checked my vitals.

  “I’ve got a bit of good news,” said the nurse.

  “The doctor said that if everything checks out you will be able to go home today.”

  A small smile played across my lips as hope began to rise within me.

  Which was followed by another nurse taking my breakfast order which was nothing like ordering food from a restaurant. For the menu was very limited, nutritionally balanced, and proportioned for someone of my diminutive size.

  Translation, I got the oatmeal, with a fruit bowl and a single slice of turkey bacon. Which took a while to show up as the nurses were rather busy today.

  Eventually I was left alone to eat and as soon as I was eating alone another blue box appeared before me.

  “Ok,” I said while eating on autopilot.

  After a few moments I was able to select each skill and bring up what it could do.

  Reading through the list of skills and their details. I couldn’t help but grin at the thought on how much that first skill would change the medical industry. Let alone skills like Regeneration. But out of all the skills listed, only one caught my eye. A skill any girl and most guys would probably pick for practical purposes rather than its nifty effects.

  While Healing touch and Aid would see me as a healer type. I didn’t want to go that route for just as I thought about how much healing would change the medical industry. Having those skills would pigeonhole me into a social obligation to use them to the benefit of others without end.

  Drain aura was a nope. Simple because while cool, I could see myself accidentally hurting people with it and I didn’t want to do that.

  Vital surge, Vital conversion, and regeneration were all strong choices. If I was thinking of the best choice to have as a fighter then I would have probably picked one of those. But, that’s not what crossed my mind.

  Consume would give me the ability to eat with no, or at least fewer consequences. While I have never struggled with my weight because of how active I am. There has however, been more than a few meals skipped as I worried about the topic whenever my clothes felt tight.

  So with that in mind, I made my choice.

  With that in mind I spent the next several hours browsing the catalog. Through reading its descriptions I learned why the system was requiring me to get one. First was that the system didn’t consider a gun to be a proper weapon for it had none. Second, I found in the slings section that they were extremely limited on enchantments due to the lack of material in the object. It was just too small to properly enchant and said so in the descriptions.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Third, under a thread that started off with a picture of a ballista bolt used in a man-sized bow. Following it into the giant hunter section. I found out that there is a correlation between size of the enchantment and the size of the person targeted. The ridiculous image was to demonstrate that a ballista bolts the size of a large car would be needed to house the enchantments to properly injure a sky scraper sized giant.

  Though they said the giants were as tall as ten, ten floor castle heights into the sky rather than a sky scraper.

  Whatever.

  I wasn’t going to use a ballista as my personal weapon. But I had to pick one and so I drew upon hints of memory. Feeling out my martial style. The one unique to myself and that bore my name. Coming to the same conclusion as I had when I ordered the practice DAO.

  In the relative silence that you could get in a hospital room. A short black DAO appeared in my lap. Starting out as just a ghostly image and slowly becoming more, ‘real’ over the course of a minute. However, I didn’t get a chance to examine the weapon as voices could be heard outside my room.

  Like a child hiding a toy. I swept the DAO under the covers and away from prying eyes.

  “Hello, Elisabeth,” said my mom as she walked through the door. A sinking feeling in my heart as her eyes only once briefly glanced my way. Her long brunette hair a little disheveled, the bags under her eyes and the posture of someone who was resigned to doing something they didn’t want to do.

  “Hi, mom. How’s everyone doing?”

  “They’re fine,” said my mom tiredly before turning to the nurse.

  “When can we leave?”

  “Go ahead and get dressed,” said the nurse with a polite smile.

  “The doctor will be with you shortly, and you should be free to leave after that.”

  With that she left.

  “I brought you some clothes.”

  “Get dressed, I’ll wait outside,” said mom as she too left the room.

  Hopping out of bed and grateful of my freedom despite my weakness that turned my hop out of bed into a strenuous process that took nearly five minutes. With delicate care, I smuggled my sword and bag of clothes into the tiny private bathroom attached to my room. Allowing me to change in peace as I began to worry about the sword problem.

  The ridiculousness of the idea of trying to smuggle a sword out of a hospital after changing clothes made me wish for the Austin Powers movie theme music. Though smaller than a full-sized DAO, my stunts to keep it out of view of the partially open door was comical at best. Every sound and movement by someone else causing me to twist and start even though no one entered. My frailty causing those slip ups to turn into comically exaggerated motions.

  “I have to find a way to hide this,” I said once the bathroom door was closed. Leaving me alone with my my reflection when a new box appeared in front of me.

  “Yes!” I said as a new, much longer list came up in front of me. Ignoring that as I already had an idea in mind. For if I could I wanted a video game style inventory that would let me walk out of here with my new sword without anyone else the wiser. Besides, as a girl there is always more things you want to carry than room. Unlike guys who often have deep pockets in their clothes. There were often times when the pockets you have are fake or not nearly deep enough to carry what you need.

  Afterall there is a reason nearly every woman carries around a purse wherever she goes.

  “Show me storage skills,” I said. Heart pounding as I began changing clothes. A truly massive list in front of me with most only slight variations on the same themes. Only to quickly find a problem with them. Nearly all of the standard, ‘inventory’ skills were limited by your tier in cubic meters.

  While that wouldn’t be a problem for my current predicament, it did pose an issue when in comparison to the other skills I could choose. For when I asked about it, I was told I was Tier 1. Leaving me with one cubic meter and without a clue if it could get bigger. Something I assumed it could, given the options when I could choose a recovery skill. But I had a feeling that any of these standard inventory skills were heavily limited by being bound to the user.

  However, if switched to a bag of holding I could hold six times as much, but I would be limited by a rule. Usually first in, last out. Meaning that if I want to take out the first thing, I ever put in. I have to empty everything else out first.

  Switching it up to a spatial ring gives you the ability to summon any item to your hand, the same inventory size as the bag, and without the rule. Which sounds great except rings have a mana cost and a long cooldown.

  Moving along and getting an amulet of holding also sounded really good at first. Though this time it limited when you could take things in or out. Times like dawn or dusk.

  Disgruntled, I looked deeper for other skills that could be used for storage and came up with three.

  ~Knock. Knock. Knock~

  “Elizabeth!”

  “Are you in there?” said mom.

  “In a minute!” I said with strained effort. Being already dressed and ready to go. My hold up was the sword and how to carry it. Though I dearly wanted to explore further, I dared not risk it. I needed a skill now to hide the sword and at a glance, Armory would work best.

  The real kicker that made me pick it was that the sword wouldn’t count against the meager storage capacity of the skill because it’s a weapon. Allowing me to have a half-sized storage space as well as a place to put arms and armor.

  “Now how do I use this?”

  “You don’t have time for this,” said Lesia atop the toilet.

  “Gah!” I said with a start as the cat snorted.

  “Just say, ’Armory, store object,’ and think about putting the sword away where it belongs.”

  “The system will do the rest and eventually you won’t even need that. Though until then you will need its help to force your skills to work.”

  Nodding I placed my hand on the sword and whispered, “Armory, store object.”

  Like a fading marriage, the sword disappeared.

  “Coming!” I said as I opened the door to find my mom talking with an older man who looked to be a doctor.

  “We don’t know if its cancerous but there are a pair of lumps on your daughter’s forehead,” said the doctor. Given that I had given my mother permission to view all my medical info when I arrived it wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was the subject matter.

  “Wait, I have cancer?!”

  Turning to me the doctor nodded and said, “Good morning Izzy.”

  “As for you question, no.”

  “Your blood work shows no signs of cancer. However, your MRI found two small lumps on your forehead that we have been unable to identify as of yet. Given that you otherwise have a clean bill of health if a bit malnourished,” said the doctor with a stern look at my mother, “We have opted to ask that you return in a week for further testing.”

  “I can do that!” I said before turning and gathering up the cat in my arms.

  “How’d Onyx get here?” asked mom.

  “I don’t know,” I said as the doctor turned a glare on my mother.

  “Madam, please get that animal out of my hospital, NOW.”

  Turning her own glare on me my mother said, “Lets go,” before storming off in the direction of the elevators.

  ??????????????????????????????

  Lieutenant Colonel Fredrick McDivitt, United States Army, sat in the passenger seat of the rented sedan as his assistant, lieutenant Jameson drove them from the Austin airport. A tablet in his hand that he used to scroll through the relevant information about a potential confirmed sighting of a Maggie. The colloquial term the troops had started using when literal magical girls and boys started throwing magic around.

  To be fair thought this migraine inducing absurdity started when a hole opened to another world right in the middle of the middle east. Not that the icing on that shit cake had even begun to firm up when the walking dead started pouring out like runners at the Boston marathon on the home run stretch.

  Seriously, the first guys who reported on this had been sent through several rounds of drug testing because the top brass had been absolutely positive that they were high.

  OR that this was a prank.

  That was until our NATO ally, Turkey, started screaming their heads off about it. Causing a chain of events that ended up with a call to his satellite phone on the first of the month while he was on lake Chelan. Putting an end to his families fourth of July camping trip.

  Only to find his next surprise waiting for him back at camp with his very angry wife. The twin eye holes burned all the way through his RV changing even the Pentagon’s plans.

  All the while said change sat in the back. On her phone. Her bright orange and frilly dress splayed out around her. Somewhat hiding the overly large Warhammer that took up the seat behind Lieutenant Jameson.

  Fingers twitching for another cigarette, Lieutenant Colonel McDivitt tried to not to remember the ass chewing he got for changing the pentagon’s plans in the middle of a crisis. OR how they had put him in change, since his daughter was their first member, of the handful of brats with magical powers that they could scrounge up before the fourth of July offensive.

  Three days later they called him back stateside and tasked him with, ‘collecting,’ as many new members of the team as possible. All the while the rest of NATO deployed to take up the slack that their absence would cause. For it had taken less than forty-eight hours of combat to prove his point. After all if a fourteen-year-old girl could punch a pair of holes through the engine block of his prized RV with eye lasers.

  No.

  Don’t think about it.

  Instead he took several deep breaths as he turned back to his tablet. After all, he was on his way to interview the eye witnesses. Opening the file, the military officer found the image of a respectable businessman in a suit. A fit man with grey starting to make itself known with a warm smile and a calculating look. Like someone who didn’t see people as people but as objects.

  But it was only a single photo and Lt. Colonel Fredrick McDivitt didn’t like to judge people on appearances. Too many people lie through the image they project into the world. Like a mask that lets none of the monster within be seen by the outside world. Which is why he had to do this in person. For only face to face did he have a chance at seeing through to the real man underneath the mask.

  As a blunt example, no one would think that the sweet little thing behind him was a level seven powerhouse that could take out a main battle tank.