By the time a pair of watchers came to grab Ozzy he had already watched his fearless hunter and guide to this world of savagery and violence get told off about how stupid he was for the better part of an hour. She had wanted to give Ozzy the same treatment but when she’d tried starting, she just sighed and gave him a sad smile.

  “You’re not smart enough to know what’s going on Ozzy.” She’d said, her voice practically oozing with pity.

  He had wanted to defend himself, but it was at that very moment when a pair of watchers knocked on the door ready and eager to escort Ozzy over to their boss.

  The two lads were less than talkative, responding yes and no to just about everything, even when Ozzy didn’t ask yes or no questions. It was quite off putting really, and he wasn’t convinced they weren’t just playing some game and seeing which could piss him off first. Spoiler it was the fat one.

  “So yes, no whatever, is this some sort of prank?” Ozzy asked, his annoyance on clear display as he was escorted out of the firelight district.

  “Yes.”, “No.” They said simultaneously, and looked at each other in amusement.

  “You realize I’m going to meet your boss or something like that right?” Ozzy asked.

  “Yes” They both said, turning and walking away from him at speed.

  Then inexplicably as they passed a cart selling some wraps that looked amazingly similar to earthly gyros, they spoke.

  “Oi! Lads how’s it going?” The plump man behind the cart waved his greeting at the men.

  “Seamus hope business has been well, can you do us the usual?” The fat one said, his partner having to cover his mouth with his hands just to keep from laughing out loud.

  “So you can talk!” Ozzy said, pointing a victorious finger at the fat one.

  “Yes.” He said dumbly, his face betraying nothing as he handed the man behind the cart a couple tiny roqs that were much smaller than any he’d seen before in exchange for a pair of the wraps.

  That single bit of conversation was the only time he heard any words other than the now infuriating combo of yes/no from the pair, and it took them the better part of half an hour to reach their destination. By the time they arrived Ozzy was practically fuming. Had it taken them any longer he might just have turned around and left, though the prospect of offending Trinidad would have probably made him come back around, if at least with different guides.

  Their destination was on the very edge of the platform, not in the areas most clean and not-murdery citizens could get to where the lifts were but in a private gated section of the district. Each building they passed here was much fancier and a hell of a lot better built than just about everything else he’d seen outside of the 9th platform and city floor. It was clear these guys had wealth, lots of it.

  His meeting place was no exception to the fancy rule, though it broke just about all of the other ones. Contrary to the normal style and flowing wood and brickwork of the other buildings this one was made out of polished grey stone blocks. They sat so neatly together that Ozzy doubted he’d have been able to feel a seam running his hands across them. Not only that but at the center of the building there was a massive arch, letting you see into the inside and showing off an array of floors, each bustling with activity.

  It was practically a work of art, and Ozzy would have been happy just to sit and ogle but his escorts weren’t interested in waiting around for him.

  A shove caught Ozzy by surprise, sending him tumbling into the steps at force where he cracked a shin painfully against the perfect stonework. Several emotions running laps through his mind.

  First there was surprise, the shock of being not only shoved but shoved hard enough to fall and then doing it into a set of stairs. There was confusion, after all what the hell had he done other than try and engage the incredibly annoying pair. Then there was anger, they had tried to hurt him. He was supposed to be a guest here and they were trying to pull a fast one on him.

  All of these thoughts passed through Ozzy’s mind as he fell and hit the stairs, and rapidly he began to draw conclusions.

  Were they just soldiers stepping out of line? Troublemakers maybe? Or were they about to fall on him like a hammer to subdue him now that he was in the heart of their territory and way beyond the reach of any help? Had Trinidad changed her mind about letting Ozzy walk free as a stranger and was this an attempt at capturing him? He couldn’t be sure, but knew one thing to be certain, if this was some misguided attempt at capturing him then they would pay for the attempt in blood.

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  Instinctively Ozzy placed the palms of his hands flat against the grey stone and pushed mana into his palms. Magical gunpowder formed and ignited under his hands, giving him lift and progressing his momentum up and forward, away from where any attackers would have thought he’d have landed.

  Tumbling in the air he enacted the second part of his plan, summoning a locked and loaded revolver and a very angry rat. He landed about eight stars up, already turned about and facing the two watchers, his pistol drawn and leveled.

  Contrary to what Ozzy expected to see he saw the two men looking stunned, taken back, and just about every color of confused.

  Ozzy was next up on the list to be confused, what was going on here? Had they not meant to shove him? Or—

  “Got surprised by how much I weigh?” Ozzy asked, realizing exactly what was going on.

  The pair nodded rapidly but right as they were about to speak a familiar commanding voice spoke over them.

  “I hope you aren’t planning on killing my patrolmen Ozzy, no matter what grief they might have given you.” Trinidad’s voice floated over Ozzy shoulder, and he turned to face her, dismissing his weapon.

  “I thought they were trying to pull a fast one on me, it’s not every day someone practically throws me into a set of stairs for funsies.” Ozzy remarked, more than happy to throw the two under the bus.

  “I’m going to assume it was all in good fun and a result of Ozzy’s unusual weight?” Trinidad asked, her question more command than query.

  “Yes mam.” They both said meekly, their heads bowed.

  “Then you two can clean the soot our guest left on the steps as way of penance.” She said, once again her voice offering no alternative.

  They nodded hurriedly, bowing to Trinidad and then offering curt apologies to Ozzy before running off supposedly in search of cleaning supplies.

  Trinidad’s expression softened as the two ran off, leaving them alone on the steps.

  “They wouldn’t have been my first choice for fetching a guest.” She admitted. “I’ll have to mention that to my aides. Would you follow me however?”

  “Of course.”

  ***

  After a short walk through the building Trinidad had escorted him into what looked like a personal space. It was half office and half magical workstation, covered in machines and magical circuits he couldn’t even begin to understand. Though there were some he did recognize, magnifying glasses, chemistry vials and beakers. Even a large flat piece of slate that was serving as a very cool looking blackboard, complete with chalk and scrawling symbols.

  “I hope you don’t mind the mess. This is all very spur of the moment so I didn’t have much time to clean.” She said, clearing a pile of books from two very large chairs and setting them all on the floor beside an already overflowing bookcase.

  “Not at all,” Ozzy said, more caught up in the spectacle of it all than anything else. This was practically the closest thing he’d ever seen to a mad scientists’ lab, though he doubted Trinidad was mad. Or at least he hoped she wasn’t, following a crazy person into a lab was never a good idea.

  Taking a seat as she gestured for him to Ozzy waited eagerly to figure out why she’d wanted him to come all this way.

  “So, you’re probably wondering why you’re here, truth is that I’d love to run a few experiments on you.” She held up a hand as Ozzy opened his mouth to protest. “Nothing harmful or invasive, at least I hope. It should be very beneficial to you though.”

  “How so?” Ozzy asked, curiosity doing its best to tamper his suspicion.

  “Well for one, do you recognize this?” She said, and with a flourish produced a very familiar looking core. The core of tentacles he’d looted from the root sucker.

  “How did you get that? Emil and I put it up for auction just this morning?” Ozzy asked, as stunned as he was perplexed.

  “Money can get you anything Ozzy.” She winked. “I had the two of you looked into the second you left the edge slingers compound. I had scouts look into what you’d done, sold, and even bought, though there wasn’t much of that. When they told me you’d sold a core I was immediately intrigued, you probably already know this but they’re fantastical pieces of magic. They’re as simple as they are complex, within a core lie infinite possibilities in a narrow scope.” She explained, her eyes shining like stars as she looked into the core.

  “I did know a little about that, I can’t say it makes any sense to me why you bought it though. Don’t you have all of your cores?” He asked, a sly smile spread across her face in response.

  “You’re never truly done when it comes to collecting cores Ozzy, but it’s not for me. Cores have a special relationship with the one who finds or creates them. Think of them like children of sorts. They’ll work better for you if they’re yours. Us core users who already have our base cores can use new cores for different things, we can use them to make weapons, craft powerful items and components, or even augment our current cores and abilities. That’s how you get specialty cores and shards.” She continued, pausing only when she noticed a look of recognition on Ozzy’s face.

  “I actually used a specialty shard. It gave me a pretty great ability.” Ozzy admitted.

  “I’d imagine so, they’re known for creating abilities that are better in scope and power than what most other normal shards can generate. I don’t want to get sidetracked. I got this core for a very specific reason. I wouldn’t have bothered if it was something common or unrelated to your nature, all cores can be warped however.” As she spoke, she got up to pull a large machine off of a shelf.

  It was as heavy as it was intricate. Looking almost like a scale it had two arms with large bowls for holding items. Each bowl was covered in heavy and complex runes, denoting a level of fine detail that must have taken months to achieve. In the center of the machine was a third bowl, this one with even more script though every symbol in the center bowl was filled in with gold and sparkled.

  “What is it?” Ozzy asked, awed.

  “This is an Ofniremener, most people just call them core infusers. You use them to make specialty cores among other things, and I just can’t help but wonder what might happen if I infuse this little core with a bit of cosmic stranger.” She said, eyes turning to look down at Ozzy, like he was some sort of lab rat.