Unbound-Chapter Nine Hundred And Forty Five – 945

Unbound-Chapter Nine Hundred And Forty Five – 945

The Hanged Man.
Within Disaster Lies Renewed Perspective.
Choices Define Us.
The Path Begins.
When the light cleared, Archie felt immediately unsteady. His body felt heavy and he squinted against a wash of bright sunlight. He took a breath, still a little blinded by the sunbeam, and couldn’t fight off the stretch that pulled at his spine and shoulders. Archie stretched his limbs, enjoying the sudden warmth even as the thick humidity clung to him like a second skin. He paused, startled by the breadth of his arms and with a shocked glance downward, saw legs that extended down through linen pants and comfortable sneakers. He held up his hands, flipping them over, back to front.
A thin, dark window next to him caught his eye and Archie simply stared. “I’m tall again. Oh thank Christ.”
It was a shock, seeing his face settled into the body of the man he used to be. He turned, pushing his chin to the side. He looked the same as on the Continent, just…softer. His goatee was still there, though it was shaped up quite a bit better than it had been in recent months, but his cheeks were rounder and his eyes weren’t quite as sunken—as if he’d actually been getting sleep.
He groaned. “I missed this.”
Beyond his reflection, a glass-faced skyscraper reflected an unseen blue sky and palm trees swayed in a hot breeze far below. Their fronds rustled just above a distant car lot where several hundred imports were parked beneath specialized awnings.
I remember this.
He peered closer through the window.
I’m…am I on a job?
"Archie," said a slender, bald man next to him. "What's taking so long? Just open the door."
His old partner, Slim, stood over him. The man was tall and gangly and eternally nervous, and he rubbed his sweaty hands against his thick pants. Slim was backed by Bruce, the absolute wall of a man who lingered near the elevator doors, watching for anyone coming up.
“Oh,” Archie turned away from the window. “Right.”
They were inside a skyscraper in downtown Miami, at the very top floors, just outside the doors of a penthouse. The hallway was wide and lavish with marble tiles and odd modern art details along the walls that weren’t dominated by the tinted windows. An elevator was behind them, one they’d conned their way into and up to this floor. The door itself was wide and white, set with a silver keypad with a fingerprint scanner.
Archie stepped forward as the details of the job filtered back through his memory. This had happened years ago, so it was like Primeval Drifting through heavy metal, slow and a little hazy.
He patted his left shirt pocket and loosed a relieved breath. A pouch containing a plastic case was there, and he opened it up to reveal a resin pad set with the unmistakable markings of a fingerprint. He vaguely remembered acquiring it and the code from the mark two days prior, right before he and his wife left the country for the month. Vacationing in Europe. Rich people stuff.
Which left their palatial penthouse alone and unguarded. Ripe for the picking.
"The lock. Come on."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, kneeling down to access the door. That felt strange—he’d gotten used to just walking up to Human-sized doors, and Archie almost felt uncomfortable with so much extra leg and torso. As he hunched down, the discomfort faded. With deft hands he held the resin pad over a finger and put it up to the keypad…before hesitating.
Shit.
What was the code again?
"What's the problem, Archie?"
"Nothing," he snapped. "I got this."
He patted his shirt, pleased to find a pack of tools nestled within an inner pocket. The usual lockpicks were there, but what he needed was something a little sterner. The moment he touched them though, a strange sensation washed through his limbs, as if suddenly they knew what to do. It was the same feeling he had when he activated his Skills, especially at the start, when the System knew more than he did on how to use them. His hands left his tools in his pockets and lifted up to the keypad again.
Oh that’s useful.
The keys lit up with smoky vapor, brighter where he needed to touch them and flashing in sequence. He tapped them quickly and pressed the pad to the lock. On the final digit, the lock clicked open. A deep whirring sounded, and three internal bolts unlatched from above and below, and a soft beeping halted.
"It took you long enough," Slim grumbled, grabbing the handle and shoving his way in. Bruce followed, pushing Archie the rest of the way through the door.
"Slow down, idiots.” Archie straightened his shirt and followed. “What’s the hurry?”
Bruce cracked his knuckles. “We planned to clean this place out, and that's gonna take time. Even with me doin’ the liftin’."
“Don’t be complain’ now, Bruce. Besides,
look
at this place!”
Slim threw his arms out and the others took in the sight. It might have only been an apartment, but it was the size of any number of mansions that Archie had robbed. The main floor spread out for several thousand square feet, tiled with white marble and filled with low, lush furniture and odd sculptures that could only belong to someone entirely too rich to have taste. ‘Fancy’ was the only word for it.
Pieces of art hung from the walls, some Archie recognized as particularly famous, and as his memories of this job returned, he sneered. Fakes, all of them. Slim had found that out the hard way when he’d tried to fence them. Only one was worth any real money, but after they sold it things had gone bad fast.
Then his eyes landed on it: the baby grand piano set beneath a crystalline chandelier. Beautiful and gilded, it played like a dream. Archie remembered that quite vividly. He’d never learned to play, but pianos could sell for a lot to the right people. More important, however, was the safe. Thanks to their research and long weeks spent casing the place, they knew exactly where it was hidden.
Slim walked into the office, and as if they were in a spy novel, pulled on a candlestick. One of the pictures depressed with a soft huff of air and slide into the wall, revealing a tall steel vault. Easily as tall as Bruce and just as wide, it had all the bells and whistles. One of those giant vault wheels was on the front, along with a combination lock.
The others started cooing over it immediately, but Archie ran his hands over the baby grand just outside the office. He remembered the last time he'd done this job. The first time. He'd claimed this as part of his share.
Damn piano,
he thought with a smile. It was impossible to fence. And it wasn't because of the moving of the piano—they had Bruce for that. It was the selling of it. He'd gotten a song for it eventually, but not nearly as much as he'd hoped. It had been a replica, just like the paintings.
"Archie, stop fucking around with the piano and help us."
"Yeah, yeah." He left the piano behind and strolled to the office. Slim and Bruce flanked the vault, and there was a glint in their eyes that he recognized from the streets of Birchstone.
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Slim put a hand out to stop him. “Before you get to it, how about we make a bet?"
Archie remembered this part.
"You can claim anything in this apartment, including upstairs. Those paintings, even that damn piano. Or! Give it up and take half of what’s in the vault.”
In the past, Archie hadn’t thought much of the bet. They knew the mark was rich, and they knew he had something in his vault, but sometimes vaults were empty or decoys. They’d run into that before. It was the one piece of information they'd never been able to gather. He'd gone for the sure thing. In the past, all the art on the walls had been a sure bet, and he’d made his decision quickly. He’d grabbed three of those fake paintings and, of course, the baby grand.
This time, however, he knew what was in the vault. His memories of this job were coming back clearer by the second. "I'm choosing the safe.”
Slim and Bruce both frowned, though on Bruce it was more of a snarl. Until Slim put up a hand to stop his attack dog. "You sure about that, Archie? There's a lot of good stuff in here."
Archie had suspected that Slim knew more about what was inside the vault than he did. How was a mystery, but his reaction confirmed it. They didn't want to share, and now it looked like Slim had been just bitten into a lemon.
Archie folded his arms. "I'm sure, Slim."
The skinny thief sighed. "Bad bet, Arch. But fine. We'll go splitsies on what's in the vault."
“What about me?” Bruce complained. “I get a share too, same as him!”
“You’re the muscle. You don’t get a choice,” Slim snarled, his casual attitude broken.
“But he—”
"I got a choice," Archie said, walking past the big man, "because I'm the only one that can open it."
Last time, Archie had to crack the lock over the course of several long hours, but now his memory was clear. The combination came back to him easily, and with it came a deep surprise that he’d ever forgotten this day. He risked a glance over his shoulder once, but Slim and Bruce were busy talking. Archie’s hands moved in a blur, turning the locks. A twist this way, a turn that way, each stop disengaging another tumbler until the final, resonant
clunk
sounded from within the steel. Archie gave a laugh, the thrill of victory in his veins, before hauling on the wheel.
The vault swung wide.
Slim stared at him, mouth open. "How the hell did you do that?"
"Skills, baby."
Inside, just as Archie remembered, there were literal bars of gold and stacks of cash. A number of diamond encrusted watches were set in orderly rows, along with other jewelry items like necklaces and earings that all looked extremely expensive. There were even a few paintings, all tidily wrapped up against the elements, but which Archie knew for a fact were legitimate.
“Look at all this!” Bruce exclaimed, reaching for the door.
“Hold your horses, big boy.” Slim pushed the man back. “I gotta inventory this stuff!”
Archie cut in front of both of them. “Maybe, but I get first pick.”
Slim ground his teeth together. "Fine, what are you taking?"
Archie leaned in, looking for something he remembered.
Aha!
Tucked against the back was a dark bag no bigger than his hand. He picked it up and felt the weight of it. "I'll be taking this."
Slim tried to inspect what he'd taken, but Archie denied him, tucking it into his inner pocket next to his lockpicks. The bag was heavy and dragged his shirt down, but it was worth the discomfort.
"Just that little bag?”
“Yeah, you can have everything else."
His partner eyed him. Slim wasn't a fool. He knew Archie was up to something. But just as always, the man's greed took over. “C’mon Brucie. Let’s get to work!”
They slipped around Archie and started unloading the vault into a pair of heavy satchels that Bruce had slung over his shoulder. It was why Archie had always liked working with Slim. A man controlled by his greed was easy to manipulate.
"All right," Bruce said, laughing as he started unloading the gold bars into his bags. "We're going to be so rich!"
For his part, Archie let them do the work, just as he had last time. He walked to the window. He didn't need to worry about being spotted. They were so heavily tinted that they were practically two-way mirrors. Right now, what was more important was the feeling in his chest. He didn't know when he'd get to see his home again. Miami spread out before him. Sharp and beautiful. The sun, a blinding jewel in the sapphire blue sky, while heat radiating off of everything. People hustled about far below on side streets while the main thoroughfares were clogged with expensive cars he’d never be able to afford.
It was beautiful—and yet, it gave him less peace than he'd expected. A knot of tension clung to his chest. It was nice to be home, but he knew he had to leave. This was just a doorway in his Omen Path. It wasn't permanent.
Archie sighed. Over the sound of Bruce’s grunting, he heard the click of metal ratcheting against itself.
Oh yeah. I almost forgot about the gun.
Archie hit the deck just as the revolver barked, splintering the window. It fired a second time, but Slim had never been a great shot. Archie rolled, tucking down behind one of the heavy stone pillars. It covered less of him than he was used to, being human again.
He didn’t shoot at me in the penthouse before!
When his partner had turned on him in the past, it was well after Bruce had muscled the baby grand piano out of the apartment and loaded it into a car.
At least this time he missed.
The gun fired off a few more times.
"Archie, there's no use hiding. Bulletproof glass. Soundproof walls. I got all the time in the world, and they’ll never find out.”
“Are you an idiot?” Archie inventoried his pockets for a weapon, but came up short. “Are you gonna fix the stone you're shooting?"
Slim paused as if he hadn't considered that. "Whatever. They won't find out until we're long gone."
Archie rolled his eyes. He could hear his partner stepping across the marble tiles. Him and Bruce were flanking him, he was certain. But how? Archie couldn’t access the System or pull up his Status, but his senses were sharp. How did he pick that first lock? If he could use his lock-picking Skill, then what else could he do?
Primeval Drift!
Pulling in a deep breath, Archie sank into the earth just as Slim rounded the corner, gun trained on the empty space he used to be in.
"Where'd you go?"
Archie was in the floor, moving sideways now. His Blindsense could filter the sounds, feeding them to his ears. He may have been Human again, but he hadn't forgotten what he'd learned. He darted forward to the ground, the gun barking again and again as Slim shot blindly at the furniture. The guy had no clue where Archie had gone, and he started spinning in panicked circles.
He angled himself up, swimming back through the floor and out of the baby grand. Archie needed a weapon, fast, and the pickings were slimmer than his idiot partner.
“There you are!”
The gun barked and Archie dropped low. His Mana felt weird and strained, lower than he expected—maybe because he wasn’t in his Delven Body? Either way, he only had a few more uses of Primeval Drift. He focused on dodging and weaved between Slim’s garbage shots until his gun started to click, and Archie leaped over the desk, snatched up a gilded letter opener, and in a single smooth movement, drove it directly into Bruce’s eye.
The big man fell screaming before Archie rammed it home, and he went silent.
Slim fumbled with reloading his gun, bullets falling onto the marble tiles. Archie darted around the desk and the man fired blindly. Bullets tore through old wood and pinged off a metal paperweight, missing Archie by inches before he phased through a column.
Slim whirled, eyes wide and disbelieving. “How the hell are you doing that?”
Archie reappeared, sliding up through the floor and jamming the bloody letter opener sideways behind the gun's trigger mechanism and into Slim’s palm. “Magic, bitch.”
His partner cursed, hand pinned to the gun. He stumbled back from Archie, pawing at the wound with a weak cry. It fell with a bloody splotch, clattering across the tiles as Slim cradled his hand. “You stabbed me!”
“You shot at me.” Archie tilted his head. "Did you think I'd be that easy to kill?"
"I'd hoped," his partner said, before whipping out a knife. “Face it, Arch. One of us was always gonna die.”
Slim charged him, and Archie smiled. The man moved slower than he remembered, and like his shooting it was entirely unpracticed. Archie’s own movements were more fluid than his young body could have produced before and he caught Slim’s wrist effortlessly. His Human strength was far greater than he’d had as a Delven, and it was more than enough to overpower his lanky partner. The man gasped in pain as his wrist was squeezed, and the knife fell from nerveless fingers.
Archie caught the blade.
"You’re right, Slim. One of us was always gonna die." Archie smiled, his teeth glinting in the sunlight as he drove the knife home.

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Chapter Nine Hundred And Forty Five – 945