SV Chapter 58 (Patreon)

“So there’s somebody I want you to meet,” Candice said. Tiff cocked her head at the somewhat abrupt change of topic. She supposed there wasn’t much more she could dig out of the cheerleader about Fabulé or its owner at the moment. In fact, Tiff was impressed by Candice's resilience. Everybody else instantly ignored the warning signs as soon as they fell under his spell. Candice seemed to be unwilling to part with her sweatshirt, but at least she was struggling against whatever made the clothes so…weird.

Tiff had to wonder if it was real magic at play. She supposed that was one of the first things she needed to ask Fabio once she confronted him. Tiff was assembling the clues she’d seen so far and they looked remarkably like a mild form of mind control. And, as she’d said many times before: mind control, in any form, was unacceptable. Perhaps after school today or tomorrow, she’d have Victoria take her for a visit. She could even bring the dress…and who knows, if things turned out to be civil? Maybe she could see what a genuine [Tailor] thought about the System’s handiwork.

Candice made a waving motion with her hand, but to most observers, it probably looked like she flicked her hair. Tiff was about to ask if she needed a napkin or something until she noticed a boy walking up to their table. He was short, scowling, and lean, but not scrawny: he looked like the scrappy kind of guy that picked fights with dudes twice his size and came out on top. What was that saying? It’s not about the size of the dog in the fight….

…Or was that something about “Inside you, there are two wolves….” No. That’s definitely not it.

Tiff shook her head to clear the madness as Candice scooted over, making room for the boy. Now that he was up close, Tiff could say she at least recognized him. She couldn’t put her finger on it, because unlike Candice, he didn’t sit across from her in homeroom, but Tiff definitely shared a class or two with him over the years.

“Theophania,” Candice said formally, slipping some glasses out of her sleeve and sliding them up her nose, “Allow me to introduce David Grant. David, this is Theophania VanDyne.”

“Ah,” Tiff said pleasantly. “Candice spoke of you.”

“You…don’t know who I am?” He asked tentatively. His scowl tightened into a worried frown, and Tiff wondered if his eyebrows naturally raked.

“I told you she wouldn’t,” Candice mock-whispered. Tiff didn’t bother to deny it. The boy visibly deflated. “Dawg,” he groaned, “We’ve been in the same class since I transferred as a freshman.”

At first, he talked like any other kid, but by the end he slipped into an accent Tiff couldn't place. Since he'd just said he transferred, Tiff wondered where he was from.

“Relax,” Candice said, patting him on the shoulder consolingly. “I’ve been in her classes for years, and she only learned my name in September.”

“Is that why you had me make a resume?” David asked, putting the folder he was holding on the table. “I’ve never had to make one of these before. I had to get help from my dad. I told him it was for a class assignment.”

Tiff reached forward and pulled the folder in front of her. Honestly, she’d never read one. She didn’t know what to expect either.

“In some ways, it very much could be a Class assignment,” Candice mused. “It all depends on Theophania.”

“I still don’t understand what she has to do with this,” David frowned. “Aren’t you hiring me to keep away—“ He glanced warily at Tiff and seemed to consider his choice of words. “—undesirables?”

“You can speak freely here,” Candice said. “Yes. My job involves transactions with gang members. I need a bodyguard. I don’t need somebody who’s going to get into fights every day, but I do want somebody who knows how to handle themselves. From what I’ve seen, that’s you.”

“You’ve got a job?”

“Yes,” Candice explained patiently. “And if you pass the interview, so will you.”

David stared at the middle of the lunch table for several moments before looking at Tiff and Candice.

“This is real?” He confirmed. “I just want to make sure. This is so…wrong. It feels like a prank. I mean, here we are, sitting at a lunch table in the cafeteria, you want to pay me to look scary, and she’s reading a resume.”

Tiff nodded. Considering her last two months, that sounded perfectly reasonable.

“Not a prank, I guarantee you,” Candice said. “If it makes you feel any better, I went through the same thing, only less streamlined. Be grateful somebody else was the guinea pig.”

Tiff tuned out the banter and focused on the documents in front of her. Without knowing what a real resume should look like, she couldn’t tell whether David’s was good or bad. It occurred to her that stuff like this would be valuable to learn in school, unlike many of the mandatory classes Tiff was sure she'd forget the moment she got her diploma. Maybe, once upon a time, it was. Along with ancient and archaic things like how to balance a checkbook. Who even wrote checks in this day and age? It always boggled her mind that both her parents actually had them.

So. The resume.

It featured a neatly typed cover letter (which screamed fancy) with a pleasing cursive font (even fancier!) listing David’s full name above his address (which, Tiff supposed, she ought to verify). He didn’t have much in the way of accolades…which wasn’t a surprise, since he was 17 and still in high school. Stuff like winning the Pulitzer or a Nobel Prize took time. He did have several achievements for playing basketball, which immediately made Tiff pause.

She glanced up and scrunched her face. David was short. As in, maybe an inch taller than Tiff? Before her quirk, Tiff used to claim that she was 5 feet tall, just because it was easier than saying 4’ 11 ¼”. But this dude didn’t have to tell the truth, yet Tiff would absolutely call BS if he tried saying he was more than 5’ 1”. Candice was clearly several inches taller. This was the textbook definition of short king, wasn’t it? They both noticed Tiff staring and straightened up.

“It says here you play basketball,” Tiff said, cutting to the chase. Candice sighed dramatically, as if Tiff had made a major social blunder, and David had that resigned look people get when they explain a familiar thing a million times over.

“Yes, I do,” he said wearily. Tiff noted the use of present tense.

“Really?” She asked dubiously. “Are you on the team right now?”

“Technically, no. The season hasn’t started yet, but I was on Varsity last year and I plan to try out again. Unless something crazy happened over the summer, I should get my spot back.”

“How does that work?” Tiff asked, truly confused. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but it was just…basketball was a tall person’s game, wasn’t it? She certainly wouldn’t make the team. Not that she had any desire to try.

“Are you one of those types?” David scoffed. “You think being tall is a requirement?”

“Yes,” Tiff answered truthfully. “I’m sorry if I’m wrong.”

Her honesty caught David off guard and he blinked at her owlishly.

“No worries. I mean, you’re not wrong. If you want to go pro, height is kind of mandatory. You need to be really, really good if you want a spot among the giants. Yeah, a lot of coaches might take the charity approach and say if you work hard enough, you can do anything. But the real ones, the ones who tell you how it is? I’ve heard a saying. You can teach hard work, but you can’t teach height. So…yeah. I’m no Muggsy Bogues, but I’m good enough for high school ball.”

Tiff had no idea who that was, and if they weren’t talking about sports, she’d have assumed he was a 1930s gangster. She nodded like she understood and asked her next question.

“So…what is it that you do so well? What’s your spot among the school’s giants?”

“I’m a point guard,” he answered, and he interpreted Tiff’s blank stare correctly. “I’m guessing that doesn't mean anything to you. I’m aggressive. I drive the lane. I pressure the court.”

Tiff tried to smile, but she was still very much confused. David looked at her judgingly and Candice chuckled. She elbowed him and gave a significant nod.

“Fine,” he said with a huff. “I play mean. Not dirty– I ain’t no cheat. I’ve got good handling skills, the fundamentals, and I hustle. But besides all that…you put me in to foul out. I ain’t afraid of elbows.”

“Or throwing hands,” Candice added helpfully. Tiff let out an appreciative ahhh. That made a lot more sense!

“I see,” she said with a small smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from? I’ll admit, I don’t know accents. You said you transferred to Setma? What year?”

“Freshman,” David said easily. “Family’s originally from Michigan. I guess you’d say Detroit? Technically not, but it’s kind of like how down here, if somebody from out of state asks you where you live, you say LA and not Setma Heights.”

“I get it,” Tiff agreed. It was so much easier to say the big city instead of one of the countless cities in the urban jungle. Too bad she couldn’t get away with that anymore. There was only one more small matter she felt she needed to bring up on these points…pun entirely unintended.

“I apologize in advance, and I’m sorry for even bringing it up,” Tiff cringed. “But I’ve got one more question about your height. You won’t have any issues working with somebody taller than you, will you?”

“What,” David laughed, “You think lookin’ up at a girl’s gonna make me cry? I ain’t that insecure. Besides, I wouldn’t exactly call Candice tall. Short knows short. I ain’t afraid to say it.”

“Good to hear,” Tiff said. Big trucks were called compensation trucks for a reason. Something about their drivers was usually smaller than average. Tiff knew of several boys who fit that mold…and they were nasty pieces of work. “I’m glad you and Candice can get along. But to be honest, there’s more than that. If you work with Candice, you work with me. And, as you can probably guess, I’m not the most physically capable person. From time to time you might see my sisters or my mom. They are…not short.”

“You could just say tall,” David chuckled. Tiff gave him a wry smile and Candice shook her head.

“Huge,” she mouthed. “You’ll see.”

“Aight, aight,” David nodded. “Fair enough. But I thought I was working for Candice? If you’re the one doing this…is this even an interview? Whatever this is, does that mean you’re the boss? Why would we be working with you?”

“You are correct,” Tiff said. “I am the boss. I have my finger on some of the local…infrastructure. Candice here collects payments. Do well to guard her.”

David barked out a quick laugh and studied Tiff’s face. He likely expected Tiff to join him, but she wasn’t joking and his smile quickly fell.

“...You’re serious?” He asked, his voice laced with disbelief. “Did you really just admit to being a criminal?”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Tiff answered swiftly. “While our methods might seem…dubious to outside observers, we provide protection.”

He looked at Candice for confirmation and she shrugged.

“Not joking,” she said. “You should see the upgrades Theophania’s given the local convenience store. That place could serve as an emergency bunker during a disaster. It’s earthquake-proof and bulletproof. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was zombie-proof.”

“You run protection,” David repeated slowly. He looked around the cafeteria as if expecting somebody to yell out in surprise at any moment. “You’re sitting here, in the middle of our high school cafeteria, talking about controlling gangs. This is insane! Why is nobody talking about this?”

“Mostly because nobody hears,” Candice said wryly. “I don’t know if you noticed, but this table is rather secluded in the corner. Nobody sits here, and it’s not like we’re yelling our plans out loud. Theophania’s Class might have something to do with keeping things secret; I don’t know. What I do know is that we’d like to keep it that way.”

“To be clear,” Tiff said, “We are asking you to be a bit grey on the Scale. We aren’t asking you to do anything illegal. Candice wants peace of mind and security, and I want to give her that. You follow her around when she needs you, look threatening, and keep her safe. I don’t want you starting fights, but if you have to, feel free to end them. It would be best to avoid fighting if you can and just get her somewhere safe.”

David studied both the girls for several moments before deflating.

“I can do that,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “And I’ve already got a bit of Grey. I guess what really confuses me…is why? Why all this, I mean? Why the resume, why the interview? This is just a side hustle, isn’t it? It’s not like any of this is official and we’ve got to report it to the IRS.”

Tiff and Candice shared a speculative look, and David’s shaky laugh died in his throat.

“Are you serious?” He asked again. “Do I get a pay stub? I…I have no idea how to pay taxes.”

“Not at the moment, but I wouldn’t rule it out,” Tiff mused. “As for why…I’m afraid that’s a little harder to explain. I’ll try, but doing so is going to require assurance on your part. So far, we haven’t done much more than talk about the weather, so to speak. If our proposition doesn’t interest you, you’re free to go. I ask that you don’t spread what you’ve heard here today; not that many people would probably believe you. But if you are interested, there are certain…benefits and drawbacks. I won’t sugarcoat it. There is a very strong chance the System offers you a new Class.”

“Say what?!” David hissed. He whipped his head toward Tiff so fast she instinctively reached for her own neck. “A Class? By working for you, I can get a Class? Why the hell didn’t you lead with that earlier?!”

“Because it’s not a guarantee, and I don’t like advertising it,” Tiff sighed. “Now please, don’t make a scene-”

“Make a scene?” David scoffed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Half the kids in this room would throw themselves at your feet for the chance to get a Class. I know I dreamed of an athletic Class, but that ain’t happenin’ and I’ll probably end up in retail. I’ll do whatever I gotta do; where do you need me to sign?”

“Once again,” Tiff warned, “I want you to be certain about what you’re getting into before you agree. I’m glad you’re enthusiastic, but…why don’t you take a day to think about it and get back to us tomorrow? So far I’ve seen two Classes given out to support me, and if you get one, I don’t know if you can back out. It’s best to consider this a long-term gig.”

“Yeah,” David said a little sourly, leaning back. “You’re probably right. Boy, that got the better of me. Pretty sure my answer’s gonna be the same, but I’ll be here tomorrow. You always eat lunch at this table, right?”

“This is Theophania’s Table, after all,” Candice smirked.

“So that’s it?” David asked. “We done here?”

Tiff adjusted the resume in her hands and tapped it on the table, straightening it out. So far, it really did sound like David would be a good fit for Candice. She wouldn’t have brought him to Tiff if she didn’t have her reasons, and Tiff trusted her. But David was right; a written agreement would be nice. Only…maybe not so written. Not when Quests were a thing.

Tiff never gave much thought to creating Quests, especially when she received them all day. She saw them as something the System pestered her with. But, as she learned the other day, people could give Quests, too. Given the right circumstances, the System could do all the paperwork for them. Certainly, it would be much more binding.

Tiff hadn’t consciously created a Quest before, but she had a pretty good hunch for what made it happen. First, she needed to be sincere. That wasn’t a problem; Tiff was a serious person. Next, she needed intent. It wasn’t enough to simply want something; otherwise, the System would take heavy liberties and add its own spin. Third, and probably most importantly, she needed authority. For example, no matter how much she wanted two scoops of chocolate ice cream, she couldn’t manifest a Quest for the nearest student to fetch it for her.

…Very briefly, Tiff held her breath. Nothing. She didn’t expect it to work.

Concentrating on the task at hand, Tiff molded a Quest in her mind.

This wasn’t an employment opportunity, not yet. This Quest was for the serious consideration of employment. She wanted to make it clear that if David accepted, his life would most likely take an unpredictable turn. As for what she needed him to be…Tiff’s thoughts instantly went to [Enforcers] and she immediately frowned. She discarded that notion with extreme prejudice. Tiff…didn’t exactly know what to call the job title. On one hand, he was a [Bodyguard] through and through…but when Tiff thought of that Class, Victoria instantly came to mind, and David was nowhere close to her league, not even when she first started. But he needed to be more than a foot soldier in this hypothetical war that was developing all around them. Just like she had for Candice, Tiff focused on what she needed at its core and let the System handle the rest.

I need a fighter. Somebody ready to protect Candice and keep her safe. Somebody willing to do whatever it takes to make sure they both come out on top. Somebody who won’t be swayed, can’t be bought. Bound by honor, rewarded with glory.

Tiff felt something stir within her. A screen materialized in front of her, and her eyes widened as she looked over it.

​

[New Quest: Are You Not Entertained?]

​

Offer the Quest [Contractual Obligations] to David Grant.

​

[Quest: Contractual Obligations]

You are being offered a place in the Dark Queen’s Court. Become her [Gladiator].

This decision cannot be rushed.

During deliberation, you are unable to disclose the identity of the Dark Queen or her Grand Vizier.

Quest may only be completed after 24 hours have passed.

Reward: Class change [Citizen] -> [Gladiator]

Reward: Title [Warden of Receipts].

[Gladiator]: When thrust into a fight against unfavorable odds, or fighting as the spectacle of observers, raise all stats and gain [Showmanship]. Bonus to fighting with improvised weapons. When fighting to protect a member of the Court, boost stats again.

​

Offer Quest? [Yes | No]

​

Tiff nearly whistled out loud. That…sounded like a powerful Class. It obviously had downsides, and Tiff could see several of them just by focusing on the Class itself and bringing up the description. It didn’t tell her exactly how David’s stats would change (if he chose to accept), but she assumed they would. [Showmanship] seemed to be a combination Perk / Quirk, in that it offered benefits and a drawback. Apparently, while fighting publicly, if he wore any type of costume or uniform, he was much more likely to be seen as a persona and not recognized as David Grant. Sort of like a French-vanilla version of her [Hiding in Plain Sight]. The downside was that he was incentivized to take those fights, if not strictly compelled to start them. Tiff also noted the clause in the Quest that forbade him from talking about her secret identity. While she was grateful, she didn’t like the thought of a System-enforced gag order.

But it looked good to her, more reasonable than anything she could come up with on such notice, so she hit [Yes].

David immediately went still as his eyes lost focus.

“I’ve given you a Quest,” Tiff said calmly, despite how her nerves wanted to act up. “I encourage you to read the fine print, and I do mean all of it. As you can probably tell, this isn’t a decision you should make lightly. I completely understand if you wish to decline; no hard feelings. As well: if you accept and we find that you are not a good fit for my Court, I am willing to part ways amicably, so long as my secrets are secured.”

David said nothing for several long moments. Tiff knew exactly what he was concentrating on, but Candice wasn’t privy.

“David?” She asked, nudging him gently. He stirred with a jolt.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, barely able to breathe. “A Quest. A real-life Quest. And not that stupid one they had us do in PISS.”

David studied the Quest, his eyes scanning left and right through the air, reading the invisible lines of an unseen text box. Eventually he closed them, scrunching them tight, and swallowed hard.

“I want to say yes,” he groaned. “I would so say yes right this second. But the Quest won’t let me. Well, you have my answer…Dark Queen. It won’t change by the morning.”

“Very well. I await your answer.”

Tiff waved him away with a flick of her wrist. Both she and Candice watched him wobble away on shaky legs, nearly bumping into tables and other stationary objects as he left.

“Do you think we should follow him?” Candice asked with a grimace. “You know…just to make sure he doesn’t walk into the street or something?”

“He’d have to get pretty far in order to do that,” Tiff chuckled. “I think he’d run into a door before then. And besides, look– he’s fine.”

By a certain definition of “fine.” Tiff and Candice watched as he bumped into a varsity football player, one of those huge dudes in a letterman jacket. The dude had at least a hundred pounds on David and gave him a threatening shove to the shoulder. David was having none of that. His inner Detroit came out; he flipped the guy the bird and cussed him out in such creative fashion, getting up in his grill and poking him in the chest, that the football player raised his hands in defeat and scurried away.

“Yeeeeah,” Candice drawled, her voice a multitude of emotions. Tiff thought she heard pride, a touch of worry, and maybe some exasperation. “Now you see why I want him on our side.”

“Let’s hope it works out,” Tiff chuckled. “You never know when you’re going to need a [Gladiator].”

“Oh Gawd,” Candice laughed. “Is that going to be his Class? Don’t tell me– does he get a weird title, too?”

“Who’s saying it’s weird?” Tiff pouted. “You’ve got a title, too!”

“Tiff,” Candice said flatly, “I’m a bean counter. It’s in my freakin’ name. What’s his gonna be?”

“[Warden of Receipts],” Tiff grinned.

“I can’t with you,” Candice groaned, though it quickly turned into a laugh. “But seriously, Tiff…thanks. For all of this. Giving us a Class, giving us jobs…really. This is great. And now I don’t need to bother you or your sister when I want to do pickups at the shops. Hopefully, with that out of the way, we can turn our focus back on Sugar Rush and those [Enforcers].”

“Yeah,” Tiff agreed. A notification popped up, and Tiff felt like the entire conversation had suddenly come full circle. So much for settling things peacefully at Fabulé.  “But before that, I’ve got an important job. Fabio Milan just outed himself as a Villain: he’s trying to take over part of my territory.”