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The Gamer Chapter 1091 – New Year’s 2 – Greeting and Early Celebrations
🕑 Added 2021-10-16 16:19:02 +0000 UTCJohn met the triumvirate that led the three constituent guilds of the Lake Alliance in the Harbour of the Guild Hall. To be specific, he met them by the largest pier attached to the Industry district. The largest of the festivities were held a couple kilometres further north-west, in the Commercial area, making it too crowded to serve as a place for an official gathering.
A small group moved towards John. First were Emrik, Remia and Lia, the three that had agreed to sign the contract that would integrate the Lake Alliance into Fusion. Technically speaking, they could have still pulled out, so their presence was reassuring. Behind them was Theron, the human John noted for his steady, tired look. Leslek, the punk who could mask his presence, was missing today. Likely, Emrik had removed him from the group due to the antagonism with which he usually met John. Alternatively, Leslek himself had been wise enough to bow out.
Emrik headed the formation, even though two of the four were a lot more powerful than he was. It spoke to the Lake Alliance being at least a functioning society that dominance wasn’t the only axis of competence that was being looked to for leader selection. Once the middle-aged man reached John, he extended his hand.
“Welcome to the Hudson Barrier,” the Gamer greeted them with a handshake, glancing towards Remia and Theron with a smile. “In peace, this time?” he asked, jokingly.
During their last visit, Remia had destroyed the Silicate Fields while Theron had attempted to defeat, possibly even kill, John. Both had happened at Lakamun’s orders and neither had seemed enthusiastic about it then, or eager to try again now. It was perhaps the oddest side of war, when it was over and opposing sides had to restore friendly relations.
“In peace,” Emrik answered for them, decisive in his tone.
‘They probably decided to leave the speaking to him again,’ John thought and remained calm. Not tried to, just plain remained calm. That was the key when dealing with someone whose Innate Ability allowed them to read physical tells of emotions with scary speed and accuracy.
The handshake ended and John stepped aside with an inviting gesture. Together, he and Emrik started walking, while John’s own attendants, consisting of his three maids and Rave, mingled with the other three Lake Alliance leaders. “How was the trip?” he asked, getting the conversation going with some small talk.
“We flew.” Emrik kept it short and jumped right into the topic at hand, officials and journalists watching them. “I want to see the contract.”
“I figured.” The Gamer nodded and reached into his inventory. He retrieved a splendidly decorated document, paper and ink of the highest quality, joined as a perfectly aligned stack, and presented it to the Lake Alliance’s foremost representative. “This is the contract we will be signing.”
Emrik shuffled through it, looking at a couple of key passages. Once he seemed appeased (satisfied would have been too large of a word), he handed the stack of papers back. “The contract will be invalid should anything be different from the last update we received.”
“Of course.” John nodded. While the contract had been agreed upon during his visit to the Niagara Falls, it had gone through numerous minor changes in the meantime. Primarily, it was about formulations and the streamlining of the document’s structure. Numerous adjustments could be hidden in the former, so every change, however small, had to be agreed on by the Lake Alliance first.
National contracts were a difficult topic, especially when they were between two somewhat hostile partners.
The contract was safely back in John’s inventory and they kept walking.
“Where will the speech be held?” Emrik asked, and John pointed to the main festival area. They weren’t heading directly to it, just in its general direction. It was eight in the evening and their speeches were to be held close to midnight. In other words, they had another four hours for preparations. Ample time to take a stroll.
“Why there?” Remia, the blonde elf, asked from behind them. “Wouldn’t up there be better?” she pointed at Lady Liberty.
“No, she’s too big. If I stood in front of the Statue of Liberty, all the camera would catch would be the socket. Down by the administration, she’ll be illuminated in the background,” John explained. Next to him, Emrik narrowed his eyes, the telltale sign that he sensed John was hiding something. ‘I hate that he catches everything,’ the Gamer thought and continued. “Also, it’s the best place to start the fireworks from. It looks best at a distance, all around.”
They took a couple of steps until Emrik raised his voice again. “Do you have anything else urgent you wish to speak about, John, or can we end this useless formality?”
‘Your lack of respect, maybe,’ the Gamer thought. Initially, he had thought that dealing with Emrik was more pleasant than dealing with Brighton, but by now he reconsidered. William Brighton was unpleasantly like John when it came to pride and belief in his cause. While the Gamer liked to attribute to himself a healthy dose of second-guessing, there was no doubt that he had his own moral convictions he was hardly, if at all, willing to compromise on. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had the cause to carve a nation into the fabric of the world. The Order’s crusade was hardly different in its motivations and they were incredibly direct in their methods.
Emrik, however, was a politician. That made him difficult to deal with. Worse, he was skilled, which made him incredibly difficult to deal with. His goals weren’t fundamentally opposed to John’s, but he had, for good reason, a lot of caution towards the man that could end the Lake Alliance’s independence in an instant.
Basically, although William’s upfront antagonism was more bothersome in the moment, Emrik’s caution and distrust would be a steady thorn in John’s side. ‘No wonder dictators get paranoid all the time.’ John put a finishing line under those thoughts. “Nothing incredibly urgent. If you want, you are invited to wait out the time until your speech in my Palace or wander around the Guild Hall.” He paused, then made a joke, “You would do the tech crew a favour if you came in at least 30 minutes early though.”
“You wouldn’t mind if we wandered around the Guild Hall, would you?” the representative asked.
“Be my guest,” the Gamer said with a knowing smile. Emrik was probably expecting an insistence on an escort or some other sign of distrust from John’s side. Because the Gamer was beyond certain that Emrik was a pragmatist, none such actions were necessary. The Lake Alliance stood nothing to gain from sabotaging the Guild Hall and, as far as they knew, he could fix it up in less than two days anyways. That’s what he had done last time and the fact that it had cost an incredibly large amount of money wasn’t public knowledge.
Emrik was surprised by this sign of carefreeness and trust. Obviously, he didn’t show that, through no gesture nor words. Ultra-Instinct Observe did inform John about it, however. With how Emrik used his Innate Ability to register all physical tells people had, John did feel no remorse to push back with his own covert reading ability.
“Appreciated,” the representative finally said and, with a gesture, commanded the others of his guild(s) to follow him. They made their way south, to sightsee or otherwise check out the environment.
“Well, that went alright,” John said to his present haremettes. “How about we enjoy the festival for a bit?” The phone in his pocket vibrated. He knew who was calling him before he picked up. “After I fetch Lydia.”
________________________________________________________________________
“So, time traveller, how are things faring in the new year?” Siena asked, when Lydia and John joined the rest of them at an open bar on the festival grounds. “Any impending disasters you would like to… report to us?” How Siena managed to make the word ‘report’ sound like it was innuendo on its own was a solved mystery. It was all in the intonation. Lydia turned to the barkeeper to order a pint before she answered.
“A time zone joke, how classy,” Lydia said and sniffed at her own clothes.
“Checking if any of tiger’s cum got soaked in?” Rave joked. They all knew the two of them had a quickie before getting down there. Not only would it have been unbecoming to rob Lydia of her own final experience of the year, but she also needed the energy boost.
“The fragrance of smoke has permeated my clothes,” the queen complained and grabbed the beer that was hastily provided for her. She downed half of it in a move of frustration and thirst. “And I remained sober to move here without complications. My first new year was rather displeasing.”
“You get a do-over,” John told her and gave her a quick kiss.
“I’ll make sure the midnight will look fantastic, if nothing else.” Salamander grinned.
“If I am being honest, I am not enthusiastic about fireworks,” Lydia said.
“People who are are really weird,” Lee agreed.
“Seriously, what a waste of time and nerves.” Momo was the third to subscribe to the dislike of the celebrations.
“Nobody can work with all of that noise going on,” Scarlett agreed, clanking her whiskey glass against the large pint Lydia was holding. The two turned to Lee, who was a bit slow on the uptake. After her low-alcoholic cocktail had also been clanked with, all three drank. Momo was only excluded due to her nature. The best thing she could do to get drunk is to munch on ‘alcoholised’ metals. Which, realistically speaking, were just pieces of metal filled to the brim with useless enchantments that caused a feeling similar to drunkenness when consumed by an Artificial Spirit.
“Hahaha, funny rocket go boom,” Sylph laughed in their faces. Immediately after she said that, she exchanged a fistbump with Salamander. “You lot are just sour because the only joy in your life is work, work, John’s dick, work, my lovely voice, work, work and work. Oh, also, maybe, kinda, sorta, getting drunk.”
“Absolutely,” Scarlett agreed.
“I assure you, I only drink in company,” Lydia pushed back.
Both women slammed their now empty glasses on the counter of the outdoor bar. While Lydia ordered the next one, Scarlett already had three more lined up. Although this was a public facility and nobody could make reservations, they de-facto had this corner of the festival grounds to themselves. Respect kept the average person away and Aclysia’s warning glares the rest.
The only person that wasn’t part of the harem allowed to speak was the barkeeper. “Something for you, Mister President?” the middle-aged man asked.
“A small beer, please,” John said, causing several of the near-alcoholic women to shake their heads at him. “Look, some of us still have to hold a speech tonight,” he chided them. “And today’s is not one I want to do with anything resembling a slur.”
“A small beer though,” the barkeeper mumbled and shook his head before he could stop himself. Before he could get nervous about who he had addressed this time around, John just laughed. The man had probably been doing this job for years and repeated that joke at least once per evening.
“Yes, yes, I will guzzle down a casket later to make up for it,” John promised.
“I’ll hold ya to that,” Rave threatened. “You’re fun when you’re drunk.”
“Last time he tried to get a beer, you violently threatened him,” Undine pointed out.
“Can we not even mention that episode?” John begged.
Lydia raised an eyebrow. After another sip, she asked, “Is this about the aftereffects of the Court Dust?”
“Yes,” John answered shortly and gave her a pleading glance. Even if he trusted that the barkeeper was disciplined enough to keep any secrets he overheard to himself, which he didn’t, he wouldn’t want any of the things he had done while under the influence to seep out to anyone ever. Just the memory had him feel hot in his face.
Lydia took another gulp of her beverage and changed the topic entirely with a simple question, “Where might I find the toilets?” The Gamer pointed at a nearby bush. “My love, I beg your pardon? First, may I remind you that a woman of my position cannot allow herself to be seen casually urinating in public? Even if I could dare such a faux-pas, I would not because the idea of relieving myself outdoors distresses me. Also-“
“Also, I got huge fat fucking stick up my ass and if I dropped my pants in public, people could see just how deep its rammed up in there,” Eliana interrupted.
“Hilarious.” Lydia’s dry response caused the pretty little psycho to giggle madly. “What now?!”
“You sound like a robot when you try to be sarcastic, it’s fucking hilarious.”
“Now that ya say it, she does kinda sound like GladOS when she’s speaking drily,” Lee agreed.
“What is a… I have no time for this.” Despite her need to relieve herself, Lydia took another sip. “Point me towards the public hygiene facilities.”
“Over there,” Nia answered, before the ribbing of Lydia could continue. With hasty strides, the queen moved over to the row of plastic boxes. Thanks to the ever-present slimes, they would remain clean and empty no matter how many people used them. John found the image that the same slimes that were going to clean the toilets were going to clean the streets later a bit strange, but it wasn’t as if ‘used rag’ logic applied to magical blobs of animated acid.
“Any of you have any goals for the new year?” Gnome started another topic entirely.
Surprisingly, Eliana was the first to get onto that. “I was thinking about changing my outfit,” she said and grabbed the sides of her robe. It was, like always, open and pulling at it only revealed more of her almost entirely naked body.
“Question: are you going to reduce the slut factor?” Beatrice asked.
“Fuck no, I’m a breeding bitch,” Eliana declared. “I’m going full cocksucking slut on my bitch ass. I’ll add a harness to this,” she gestured up and down on herself. “Got the idea while John rode my fat ass while I had my bone shit going on. Being covered in rings to attach rope to is fantastic as fuck – almost as fantastic as getting my dumbass throat clenched shut.”
“Summary: you remain a deranged nymphomaniac.”
“Fuck off, Bae, you’re just as much a cocksucker as I am.”
“Statement: I am not deranged.”
“No, you’re annoying,” Metra stated. “I would call you a draconic nympho, but I would call two others out with that.” The First of Wrath grinned widely. “Although, if I think about it, Aclysia is a deranged, draconic nymphomaniac, while Nathalia is a nympho that just so happens to be a fucking dragon.”
“Do you wish to be incinerated?” Nathalia growled, distracted from her literal bucket of sangria for the first time in ten minutes.
“Are you seriously offended that I called you a nympho?” Metra asked.
“I’m the Flame of Destruction, the beat of my wings is a sign of cataclysm, my breath melts mountain ranges, my tail swipes break forests.” Nathalia emptied her bucket in one go and then stood up. The gaps between her scales started to glow with the orange of lava. “I do not ‘happen’ to be a dragon!”
“Don’t worry, she’ll calm down,” Momo said to the barkeeper, who was getting nervous.
“Want to try and melt Astrotium?” Metra was unafraid, walking up to the dragoness until the two stood chest to chest. Although Nathalia was larger in every single regard, Metra with her toned body and careless presence had no intention of backing down.
“You may not make a scene here.” Undine appeared next to the two before things could escalate into a playfight (and, in consequence, a very public display of making up). “There are children present.”
“Urgh,” Nathalia turned to her refilled bucket immediately, “how dare lesser mortals procreate?”
“So, you can order them around?” Metra suggested.
“I suppose that would make them tolerable,” the dragoness hummed, just as Lydia returned from her trip. “Is there a chance we could retreat and indulge in something more pleasing than beverages?”
“I have to remain around in case they need me for something,” John denied. Theoretically, Jack could have dealt with whatever issues crept up, but his double was still flying around the Hudson Barrier and helping out with tech issues. Practically all screens, including the one the local festival grounds were centred around (mounted to the Fusion Administration) were now running and showing a program put together over the past week. It was pretty low in glamour, compared to the large New Year’s galas often shown on TV in the mundane world. For the most part, this was because Fusion didn’t have a real celebrity class yet. At best they had renowned politicians and soldiers.
“Guess we’re getting drunk then,” Rave purred.
“Don’t get too smashed, I need you to look good in the background,” John warned her.
“I’ll be on meow best behaviour,” she promised with a wink.
That was how they spent the majority of the time until midnight.
