The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

Everyone in the lobby held their breath. Austin waited until tension stretched thin, until someone coughed and reality splintered back in.

”Don’ give him the theater.” Elena hissed in his ear, knuckles white against his sleeve. Her words slipped into ancient mechanic timbre: clipped, clipped breaths meant to soothe. Made his blood run cold. ”Open rituals don’ matter. He’ll take any outcome and craft lawstone.”

”You want me to concede?” Austin asked, holding posture as best he could. Chain resonance thrummed in his veins, beat against his ribs hollow echoes of someone else’s contract. System buzzed quietly on the edge of hearing. [Minor Chain Resonance detected. Will increase upon use. Enforcement reverberation created. Assimilation risk: moderate.]

”No.” Elena straightened beside him, eyes glowing unreadable shades of grey. ”Suit up.” She took one last look around before erupting orders like opening a pressurized pipe. The crowd shifted, half-automatic, half starved for direction- picking up pipes and hammers, liberated crowbar here, pry- bar there. Seven bulked them up with his large frame; clawed gloves rapping knuckles and palms practicalities as bodies shuffled into position.

Austin followed Elena down the hall to the kitchen service duct she welded shut years ago. She pressed heel into joint until a whine of stripped gears greeted them on the other side. Beyond the door litter were decades worth of attempts: wires pulled taught from walls, spray painted gas canisters, bundles of Molotov cocktails soaked in oilcloth and tucked inside a garbage bag.

”It’s not much,” Elena murmured, sliding him a strap of jury-rigged ammo. ”We have fifty rounds between those two, smoke grenades, and enough wire to make their skin crawl. Best of it—there’s a service door underneath the boiler. Passageways fork three blocks east. Dry tunnels. Built for staff deliveries and freight. Welded shut when we decided to stay. Takes you outside before the cohort knows what happened.” She tapped his shoulder, finished.

”Flanks let us attack from multiple sides.” Seven added. ”Move civilians away too.” He shifted from foot to foot on asphalt, still half in lobby.

”Both.” Elena agreed, biting her lip. Knotting her hands into fists. ”Half strafe tunnels and drive Vorth’s flank. Rest hold the fort- make them think we’ll see this fight to proper justice, coax him out into the open then blast smoke and drop the roof. Vines will finish him.” She inclined her head at the dead patch and its climbing fronds meant to deter trespassers.

Easy solutions beckoned his throat. Eat chain and let the cohort make his decision. Fight their fight instead of his own. Each swallow hurt like surgery. Austin rubbed a hand across his neck instinctively. Didn’t want to grow more lawstone on his bones.

”No throat cutting if I can help it.” Austin said firmly, surprised when voice didn’t tremble. Voice surprised him, how whole it sounded. ”Not today.” He wouldn’t beg like bait tonight.

Elena pinched skin under jaw shut and nodded once. ”Good. We’ll save those teeth for worthy fights.”

Austin delegated those who could go: Seven with a skeleton team to pry boiler hatch and man exits along tunnel routes, Elena kept rifles and smoke grenades, group of kids gathered at feet to tripwire cohort’s advances. Austin stood sentinel with hand curled around sleeve of a burlap sack containing explosives.

Chain resonance thrummed insistently behind ribs. Couldn’t shake feeling of ledges. Austin could hear Vorth clearly in mind intent spread thin across lobby like frosting on cake. Pinpoint weakness here, solid reserve there. Austin pushed on it. Breathed. Just enough to coax one hookman off beat. An inch. System flickered quietly: [Manipulation: Minor Chain Resonance manipulated. Enforcement trace: minimal. Assimilation increased.] Percentages climbed dark beneath skin: [Demon Assimilation: 6.2%.] Every time it increased made him queasy. Tongueached curses bitter in mouth.

Groups practiced coordinated movements once: deployment was all smoke. Elena checked rifles twice before stuffing magazines into chamber. Each click click click promised prayer. Seven roamed edge of perimeter patting citizens on shoulders, murmuring tactical last minute advice quiet as shared secrets.

Vorth lounged on sidewalk like knew script’s finale. Chain-banner puddled across shoulder in loose knots. ”You plot and scheme like mortals,” he drawled out, voice oily like thrown sewage. ”Very well. Waste not.”

Elena uncapped a smoke grenade from her pocket and lobbed it against far wall of reception desk. Grey smoke billowed into atmosphere like humid blanket engulfed them whole. Visibility dropped. Momentum of ritual stalled and died behind coats of artificial mist. Cohort stumbled. Moment long enough that Seven punched through boiler hatch from below.

Old coal and soggy iron smeared along tunnel walls, ripe with decay the city abandoned years ago. Team filed through trap door one by one; boots muffled by earthen tunnel walls and echoes from lobby above. Plan wasn’t flashy or complex: rifle fire swept through Vorth’s backline then when bodies crumbled vines would follow.

They filed silently through back of cohort’s formation. Elena took aim at ground floor windows for half-second before everything felt fated. Wrongness curled in Austin ears like intentional voyeuristic crackle of broken wire.

Whistle. Long and slow. Not human rhythm. System flashed crimson haze through vision:

[Signal Detected: Subjugation Beacon. Source: internal transmitter. Priority: immediate Malrec cohort notification.]

”Who - ” Seven started, eyes wide underneath mask.

Elena paled, fingertips white as scraped against rifle barrel. ”Think. Think where we would look!” Her voice scratched throat. Gloved fingers fished into interior seam of coat Elena took years to memorize blind.

Whistle sliced through gunfire, splitting rent sidewalks. High pitched above detonations. System notified quietly: [Beacon signature confirmed: chain-mediated. Living transmitter beacon registered at 3 o’clock. Possible collaborator.]

Three. O’clock. Inside.

Austin blinked through grey. Faces blurred together; familiar Austinians he’d helped clothe and shelter sifted together into greyscale. Fringe of crowd stuck out. Angular and smaller than most tried blend into clusters. Moved too fluidly like knew every micron of traction footsteps gave voice.

Section ripped open at neck, shirt hitched unevenly inside collar. Fingers rubbed seam of fabric concealed beneath upward flap of clothing.

”Listening at you?” Seven hissed. Frame jittered guilt, hand concealed by crossed arms.

Elena slashed through artificial cloudscape like serrated blade, building mechanic now shredding boy’s jacket with selfish speed. Brass patch reflected in open palm, sticker sized receiver plastered with cramped runes. Whistle stilled on jacket’s extraction; boy sagged, began trembling.

”W-wh..who?” Elena demanded, voice quiet and loud.

Fear leaked dark from eyes sockets. Boy born and raised to obey. ”Them.” Child spat from mouth. ”Maker’s hand.” Head dropped toward petite woman gripping child by elbow at service desk, expression dissolving worthless. ”They said- If wanted home.” Voice cracked, eyes glued to Elena’s ”If wanted sister back-” Child wilted, tucked down under table between mama’s knees.

Austin’s stomach did backflips. System pinged, quiet: [External Beacon Disabled. Transmission trace still intact. Warning: likely multiple beacons in populace. Enforcement trace: Malrec will be notified upon reactivation.]

Chain resonance started chewing nervously at ribcage, frantic to purge human slug embedded full of treasure before memory dissipated. Familiar gnawing blossomed in his gut: devour and delete. Burn that wire out of somebody else.

Not today. Not while Malrec’ search patterns prowled perimeter for his vibrations. Every contract he digested screamed into void of static. Couldn’t light that fire inside his people.

Elena stared at patch ensnared between fingers like carrion feast. Voice broke when she spoke. ”We—need to round up sleepers, get marked individuals out of building until we know otherwise then take our best shot at Vorth.” She licked cracked lips, bottom hem of shirt stained blood-dark where child vomited. ”Don’ trust everyone you see.”

Fissures of traitor assembled together mental image Austin didn’t want to envision. Vorth didn’t come to present ritual combat; he came to cripple them covertly.

Laugh percolated from group of boys outside, deliberate and prideful. ”Hurry up, feeder.” Voice echoed against brick. ”I’m owed.” Vorth called out from group surrounding them.

Austin looked out across patrons at all the eyes he placed bets against: scruffy looking refugee wearing heart on sleeve, worn thin with hopeful terror. Recognition flashed inside and Austin slammed boot into path coated glass. Let resonance roll through veins of adrenal, course through center of intuition older than his faction let on. Instead swallowed pride, acted ignorant.

”If you’ve lived in these halls less than one week,” Austin bellowed over spreading silence. Lobby emptied like drained morning of ocean. ”Present yourself at service desk. We will not leave until everyone’s been cleared.” Clamped jaw nodded muscle. ”Search everyone.” Glared at assembly, plastered half-smile on face. ”Find every last beacon. Expose every sleeper in these goddamn halls then we’ll take care of our own.” Air refused leave lungs. Austin breathed out cloud of smoke. ”We’ll figure out Vorth after.”

System chimed, small echo of something dying. [Enforcement notification continues. Malrec cohort surveillance heightened. A decision of strategy must be made.]

Elena latched onto wrist. Grip tortured skin white. ”Welcome to the life of taking people in.” She replied, voice numb empty corridors. ”Constant Vigilance. Not buying souls.” She offered weak squeeze before letting go, refused eyes contact.

Girl hiccuped, gapped sob drilled through distant applause from street. Tiny brass beacon pooled between Elena’s fingers, sacrament unmade. Vorth’ chains dragged together on cement. Judging.