A slit in the door, at approximately eye height on an average person slammed to one side and a pair of beady eyes narrowed on the other side.


    “Fuck off kids,” said a gruff voice as the slit slid shut again. Kev reached out and knocked again, leaving forward so his eyes were level with the hatch rather than his neck.


    The hatch opened again and the same beady eyes narrowed into a glare.


    “Are you fucking deaf? I said get lost!”


    “We’re here at the invitation of Jake,” Kev reached out to offer the slip of paper they’d received but the hatch began sliding shut. Kev reached out with his power and forced the man to leave the hatch open and accept the paper. The eyes blinked and Kev read his intentions in his surface thoughts. He leant on the man again and he blinked and turned to take the slip to his colleagues, leaving the hatch open.


    Ryn glanced through and saw a shambles. Long carts, fifteen feet in length, were laid out with their hitching bars resting on the ground. There were three of the carts and scattered around them haphazardly were crates and piles of materials. The warehouse was dark, poorly lit by strip lights along one wall that threw long shadows across the room.


    There was some muffled conversation from the other side of the door, out of sight. There was a thwacking noise and a moment later the dark eyes reappeared, glaring at Ryn and her team. The hatch slammed shut and there were a series of clicks as the door was unlocked. It swung open slowly and Kev pushed it aside, knocking the doorman back.


    “Thanks,” he glowered down at the man who backed away slightly. He was only level fifteen so even allowing for the illusory Identify results he knew he was outclassed.


    “Over here,” he grumbled as he righted his shabby coat and shuffled towards a table surrounded by much tougher looking people. Jake sat on one side grinning in approval, the other half dozen people gathered around were glaring at the kids.


    “So you think you’re tough eh?” asked a man in a broad Irish accent. He rose to tower over everyone except Kev before leaning forward and resting his clenched fists on the table. “Take a seat.” The kids looked around and found no seats in sight. Armand shrugged and conjured four chairs that could almost pass for thrones opposite the table with the caravan guards.


    “Fucking illusionists,” muttered a woman with the left half of her head shaved. She blew the long blonde strands that fell across her right eye out of the way as the kids sat down.


    “Not just illusions,” Armand replied. “Physical. I can conjure pack animals to pull the carts if you need?”


    The blond snorted and took a long gulp of her drink.


    “We’re covered in that regard, Frenchie,” said the Irishman as he lowered himself back into his chair. “So what do you bring to the table,” he asked, waving a hand across the space between the teams and blowing out his insanely bushy moustache like a whale clearing its blowhole after surfacing.


    “Fire, physical, illusion and mental support,” Ryn said calmly. Inside she was in turmoil. These people gave her a bad feeling.


    “Mental support?” asked a Scotsman, his accent as thick as his red hair. He leaned back and crossed his arms revealing explicit tattoos lining his forearms. Andrea winced at the sight and the man grinned.


    “I can detect monsters and people. Inflict various effects, stuff like that,” said Kev, shifting in his seat.


    “So we won’t run into any trouble? That might be handy,” said the blonde. “Call me Jumper.”


    “Nice to meet you Jumper. And your friends… do they have names?” asked Kev.


    “Use Identify,” ground out the Irishman. The kids ran their eyes around the group.


    Name: Jonas Shea


    Level: 27


    Ability: Brute


    Name: Sarah Ward


    Level: 24


    Ability: Flea Limbs


    Name: Harold Percival


    Level: 28


    Ability: Telekinesis


    Name: Shia Hardy


    Level: 25


    Ability: Electrokinesis


    Name: Alex Shea


    Level: 26


    Ability: Hound Dog


    “Ok Jonas. What do you need us for?” asked Armand.


    “That’s what I’m wondering,” muttered Sarah, the blonde.


    “Well Jean, we sometimes need a little extra muscle in case we run into something unexpected along the way. You lot are level twenty nine and shouldn’t have any issues with the kind of stuff living between here and there.” Jonas smiled and pulled out a cigarette that he lit with a BME lighter. Ryn briefly wondered how much tech was in that lighter, listening devices, B-net connectivity, she wouldn’t put any of that past Bob these days after living in his little world on Mars for so long.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    “So what’s the stock?” asked Ryn.


    “Does it matter?” Jonas narrowed his eyes on her.


    “Not really. Just need to know if anything will go boom if it gets a bit warm.” Ryn raised a hand and a bright blue flame flared up from her palm.


    “No, nothing explosive but some of the goods need to be respected.”


    “No problem. I can snuff a fire as easily as make one,” Ryn replied with a nod.


    “Good to know girly. How’d you fall in with this bunch?” Sarah asked, waving a hand at the rest of Ryn’s team.


    “Bad luck,” Ryn deadpanned, earning a snort from Armand.


    “Doesn’t seem like bad luck to me. You’re all pretty strong. Signatory material maybe.”


    “Nah. We’d never have gotten to serve on the Lines or the Wall. Bad families, or no families. Let’s just leave it at that?” Ryn wasn’t sure if it was her words or Kev messing with their heads but they accepted her reply and didn’t push further on the subject.


    “Fine. Suffice to say that you don’t need to know what we’re shipping but it is to be treated with the utmost fucking care.” Jonas’ voice was flat and cold. “We’ve got a few stops to make along the way before we get to Kirky-cud. Then we unload, grab some local goods and head back south. If you’re any good you’d be welcome to join us on the return trip.” He became more jolly as he spoke but Ryn felt a threatening undertone throughout.


    “We’re heading further north after this. Just looking for a job along the way,” said Kev.


    “That’s fine, Jim. Where’s your final destination?” asked Alex. Another Irish accent, probably Jonas’ little brother unless Kev missed his guess.


    “Up in the islands. Beyond that, it’s as much your business as the contents of your crates is ours. It won’t blow up in your face as long as we all play nicely.”


    “Ha!” Jonas slapped the table, making all the glasses bounce. “I like you kid. Just keep an eye out and put anything we can’t handle down and we’re golden.”


    “I’m happy you’re happy. So when do we get going?”


    “In the morning. Travelling at night is too suspicious and it’s bad for the horses.” Harold, who hadn’t spoken yet, snorted. “Where are you spending the night?” Jonas finished.


    "Wherever. We can camp outside town or wait here if you prefer,” said Armand.


    “Bed down over there. Best we’re all ready for an early start in the morning. You need anything?” offered Jake, speaking for the first time in the meeting. He’d been watching the team carefully throughout.


    “Non merci,” replied Armand, summoning a plate of food from his storage space as he rose and walked off in the direction Jonas had pointed. He looked at the space then began summoning a modest building inside the warehouse. Walls, screened windows and a door. As they materialised a light sprang on inside, throwing shadows away from the single floor cottage.


    “We’ll see you in the morning,” said Kev, nodding at their new employers.


    "G’night kids. Sweet dreams,” smirked Sarah.


    Ryn and Andrea joined Kev in walking away from the table. Armand opened the door and went inside, leaving it ajar for his friends. They entered and Kev, bringing up the rear, slammed the door shut behind them.


    We’re safe to talk in here, Kev sent to the team.


    “Thank Christ!” muttered Armand. “Did anyone else feel like we were a starter dish being eyed by hungry gourmands out there?” He threw himself down on a settee and twisted so he could pull off his boots.


    “Like little snacks,” grumbled Andrea as she moved over and began picking at the food Armand had pulled from his storage space. She nibbled on a spiced nugget of monster meat and waved it around. “What’s the cargo they didn’t want to talk about Kevin?” she asked.


    “Us.”


    “Eh?” asked Ryn, confused.


    “We’re the cargo, to be fed to the Cullers. They’ve got some shit in the carts, mostly dodgy tech from the US but we’re the main course,” he said, settling down into an armchair and putting his head in his hands.


    “Why not just lead us out of town and off us?” asked Andrea, grabbing some kind of sliced vegetables onto a plate with a fork and moving over to sit down next to Armand, pushing his feet out of the way and forcing him to sit upright.


    “It’s a case of getting people in the right level bracket. They can’t gain levels without arousing suspicion in towns and they couldn’t beat us anyway, even if we had the levels they think we do,” said Kev.


    “So they get some kind of kickback in exchange for feeding slightly more powerful people to these Cullers? What level are these bastards?” asked Ryn.


    “Mid thirties. And this isn’t their first rodeo. The Cullers will have plenty of Essence in reserve to jump up levels if we don’t take them down quickly,” Kev replied with a sigh. “I’m really starting to wish we’d passed this off to War.”


    No need to trouble the Monarchs with this. You’ll do fine, Bob sent over their implants.


    “Why not send it up the food chain? This feels like… I don’t know. Like we’re bait or something,” said Andrea softly as she cleaned off her plate and stood to go and wash up. Conjured homes included running water when Armand was making them. Armand immediately pulled his feet back onto the settee and sighed contentedly.


    “We are. But we’re bait with teeth. We just need to make it to the targets, let them come at us then blip, blip, blip with the collars and we’re out. We can intimidate the ‘guards’ outside,” Kev waved a hand back towards the centre of the warehouse. “They’ve sent the hound bloke to sniff around and try and listen to us but he’s not hearing anything.”


    “Just how much can you mess with someone’s head, mon amis?”


    “More than I want to be able to.” Kev whispered.


    “How are you holding up? With all the extra, uh, voices?” asked Ryn gently.


    “Better than I thought I would. You know the Inheritors are currently trying to set up a false flag with the Beastfolk and force Sylvia into attacking them? Then there’s the Scunner captain on her airship who’s floating out over the North Sea. She’s been raiding the Netherlands and Denmark but her home base is just south of where Edinburgh used to be. Then there’s-”


    “We get it mate. Just try and focus on the local area,” said Ryn.


    “Oui. Eyes on the prize as you roast beef like to say,” added Armand.


    “It’s not so bad. I just feel like a perv. If I don’t limit my range- hell even when I do… Do you know what the hell is going on just in the houses on this street?”


    “Anything we should worry about?” asked Andrea moving back and shoving Armand''s feet off the settee again as he swore in French. “French swearing always sounds so nice,” she smirked as the boy shuffled up to give her some space.


    “Unless you’re overly worried about Keith Jones’ wife finding out he gave her the clap because he’s been sleeping with her sister, who is apparently something of a slut -his words- or if you care about the shop at the end manipulating prices in the breakfast snacking market in conjunction with their competitors… It’s mostly bullshit.”


    "You could do a BV show. Streaming live: Kev exposes all your darkest and saddest secrets!” chuckled Armand. Andrea slapped his leg making him yip in pain.


    “I’m not going on Bob-vision,” laughed Kev, breaking out of his sinking mood. “You think you know people, right? Well turns out you really fucking don’t.”


    “So what’s happening with the hound bloke?” asked Ryn.


    “Oh he got bored. He gets enhanced smell and hearing and he can transform into a shitty version of Bolf’s war-form. None of them are a real problem. The telekinetic will have to be put down fast. He can fly, fast, and throw up shields and rip out eyeballs with his mind and stuff,” said Kev.


    “And the rest?” asked Andrea.


    “Captain Shea is bog standard bruiser. Much stronger than he ought to be and he can hulk out for a while. Sarah is dangerous up close. Ultrafast limb movements so she can jump really well, punch and kick really hard. Shia is a budget version of Evie, electrical control. His power should bounce off us due to the level difference but he’s the one who shorts out peoples nervous systems to make them easy kills for the Cullers. His internal monologue is really out there. If you want a stereotypical villain, asshole, psycho murderer. His thoughts are… fucked up.”


    “So they’re all evil?” asked Ryn.


    “Nah. Shia is tapped in the head. Alex is just following his big brother. Sarah went through some shit and ended up crazy but she tries to do the right thing when she thinks she can. She doesn’t like what they do. Harold is in love with her and goes where she goes. It’s a right mess, guys. But they’re feeding people to the Cullers to try and keep it off the radar.”