The Legend of William Oh

I require more proof.

He frequents a nearby bakery. I believe he is using it as a front for his criminal organization. There seems to be some sort of code between him and the baker, as she draws a heart on his order to signal that they’re being watched.

There is a ‘now hiring’ sign on the outside. The other guards don’t believe my hunch, and are unwilling to investigate, so I’ve got no choice but to change my appearance and go undercover at the bakery.

If they catch me, and this is my last entry, please deliver this diary to the Captain of the Guard.

P.S. – also, please rip out the dog-eared pages and burn them before giving this diary journal to the Captain. They are private and that is ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW!

- Ria Smith, Guard Cadet, level 32

***William Oh***

“And that’s your down payment,” Will said, sliding the last ivory coin across the table. “It was nice working with you again, Mr. The Tank.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Anybody who knocks me around like that on the regular can call me Frank.” The mountain of muscle rumbled, “The ‘Real William Oh’ bit really gets the crowd fired up. Means more money for all of us.”

“And here’s your cut from the pot,” Steve said, using a flat blade to separate the massive pile of ivory coins into three equal sizes before pushing one over to Frank, and another to the Ringmaster.

“You know, kid,” Frank said, pointing a single beefy finger at Will. “There’s a tournament hosted by the Baron every year for those level twenty-five and below. It’s happening next month, and I’m guessing you qualify since you just got to the Fifth Floor?”

“I do.” Will said, nodding.

“You got some slick moves. I don’t even have to sell that tumble at the end there too hard, and I think if we weren’t in a box I might have a hard time getting my hands on you in the first place.”

“Thanks.”

“I think you’d do pretty good in your own weight class. Your damage output isn’t astounding but it’s enough to be a credible threat to most other level twenty-fives, at least. The reason I mention this is because semifinalists get tickets to attend an exclusive auction for the elite, and a bit of spending money to play with while they’re there.”

Will shared a glance with Steve.

Without stealing other Climber’s Relics mid-fight, there was little chance he could win a tournament, and that ability was something he’d rather not reveal to the public at large.

He could always try and fail,though.

“Any kind of penalty for losing?” Will asked.

“Other than the small possibility of death and the humiliation of losing? Not really.”

Will’s Resistance was very high for his level, so the odds of outright dying to an overzealous attack before he could be dragged out of the arena and healed were vanishingly slim.

The risk/reward tipped in his favor.

“…I’m interested.” Will said. He could approach this with the same attitude Mason had. If he won, great, and if he lost, he would at least know more about how he could improve.

Plus Mason would probably be interested, he seemed to really enjoy getting the stuffing beat out of him over the last week or so, and more opportunities to get their Party’s foot in the door…

Will frowned, thinking of Thea Oilton, Mason Lanover, and Alicia Zodiac. If it was a high-society auction, then did he actually need to win a tournament at all to get his Party’s foot in the door?

Probably not. I could just as easily lean on my contacts to get us an in…But getting in on my own and earning the extra spending money couldn’t hurt.

“When was that auction again?” Will asked.

“What’s all this?” Mason asked as he arrived beside the private booth, scowling at Will chatting with Frank the Tank, The Ringmaster, and Steve the Itinerant Charlatan, with a massive pile of money split between them.

“…What does it look like?” Will asked.

“It looks like you conspired with Frank the Tank, Steve and the Ringmaster to fix a exhibition matches and walk away with a cool half-mil in gold!”

“Well then it’s exactly what it looks like,” Will said with a shrug. “But this money is going into our war chest, to buy new Relics and Sacrifices for the Party. I’m not embezzling it. This is an honest grift. What would I even spend this much on if not upgrades to our Builds?”

“Well-“ Steve was about to offer some ideas, but Will gestured for him to not spoil his argument.

Mason frowned, his expression complicated as he stared at the pile of cash.

“I saw your fight.” Will said, changing the subject. “Fourth win in a row. That’s real good. Did you know there’s an official tournament that rewards tickets to an exclusive auction to the semifinalists? Might find something real good there.”

Mason nodded thoughtfully as the others gathered up their money and bid hasty farewells.

He slid into the now-empty seat across from where Will was shoveling coins into a sack. “Couldn’t we just use Alicia to get in? Or Travis’s sister?”

“Probably. But I’ve been thinking…” He met Mason’s gaze. “You and me want to be Lords, yah?”

Mason nodded.

“The defining feature of a Lord is that they’re really good at fighting other Climbers. And that they’re still alive. I think we could only benefit from getting some experience fighting others in our bracket.”

Will scooped up the last of the cash into the sack and slung it over his shoulder. “I was thinking about registering for it once I drop this off with Thea. Wanna come?”

Mason shook his head.

“Can’t. I’ve got one more fight to go against Frank today.”

“That’s Mr. The Tank to you,” Frank said from the other side of the sleazy restaurant.

“I’ve got one more fight to go against Mr. The Tank.” Mason said with a shrug.

“Try not to kill him alright?” Will asked as he stood.

“No promises,” Frank grunted.

A moment later, Will left the restaurant, whereupon he spotted a shadow withdraw into the nearby alley overlooking the restaurant.

Am I being followed?

Will raised a brow. That was weird, but it wasn’t charging after him right this second, and he needed to get his legally grey cash laundered by Ms. Oilton. It wasn’t worth chasing someone across rooftops gods knew where with a giant sack of coins over his shoulder.

It was worth chasing him, though. He currently represented an easy meal for anyone who might’ve seen through their little play and had some muscle to throw around.

And that was the first lesson he’d learned:

Never be an easy meal.

Will’s paranoia sprung to the forefront of his mind.

Without wasting any time, he sprinted up the side of the building and began dashing across rooftops straight towards Thea’s office in uptown.

He faintly heard the sound of a girl cursing as Will left the scene, Aspect of the Goat keeping him sprinting across loose rooftiles without missing a beat.

There was no pursuit afterwards that Will could detect afterwards. He sent the Phantom Hand out behind him in a tight zigzag pattern to see if it might run into an illusion or an invisible pursuer but it didn’t bump into anything.

He was pretty sure someone yelled at him for running on the roof tiles, but he passed them by too quickly for them to do anything about it.

Once he arrived at Thea’s, he waited outside her home for a moment, seeing if there was some kind of delayed arrival.

After a minute, he shrugged and went inside. If they were good enough to follow him, then Thea would have to do something about it, not Will. She was a veteran of the 8th floor and the patron of their Party.

Will handed the dirty cash off, much to Thea’s bemusement, before heading towards the city hall, where he could sign up for the tourney…

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But first…

Will’s feet guided him to a tiny bakery situated on a quiet side street with overpriced pastries.

Ding!

“Welcome!”

Will’s feet came to a halt as the overzealous city guard greeted him cheerfully, her expression turning to stone the instant she made eye contact.

This girl does not have a good poker face.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Ria asked, her smile stretched tight across her face as she put her hands on the counter and leaned forward in a way Will was sure she thought was flirty and provocative, but the intensity of her gaze and the tense way she held her shoulders ready for violence just made it…intimidating.

“Is um…Anna here?” Will asked, approaching the counter cautiously. The wood underneath Ria’s hands creaked in protest.

“I’m sure I can get whatever you need.” She said through clenched teeth.

Will glanced at the empty doorway leading into the back of the bakery, not seeing any sign of Anna save for some busy-sounding clattering of tools.

“…I guess I’ll have my usual then,” Will mused.

“And what’s your usual?” Ria asked hungrily.

“Six raspberry tarts, two rolls and a loaf of garlic bread.”

“Six, two…one…” Ria mused, writing the numbers down on her wrist.

“Is that Will!?” Anna’s head emerged from the doorway, brightening as she spotted him.

“Here, Anna, he asked for you specifically,” Ria said, dancing around the much shorter girl as she pranced up to the counter.

“What brings you here!?” Anna asked, but Will was busy watching Ria rubbing her chin as she walked away, muttering to herself.

“Combination? No, not every time. Drop site? Locker?” Ria muttered under her breath, but Will’s Acuity was exceptional.

Well, that’s a waste of her time, Will thought, turning his attention back to Anna, who had followed his gaze to the statuesque ‘undercover’ city guard, and was now frowning.

“You’re not gonna leave me for another baker, are you?” she said with a pout, turning her gaze back to him. Will was pretty sure she was kidding, but he still didn’t know how to respond to that. After a moment his brain caught up, and he uttered the only rational response he could think of.

“Technically I don’t think she’s a baker,” Will said.

“Nonsense, Ria’s a natural. She made an entire shelf of the fluffiest rolls you could imagine on her first try. Jean’s been trying to convince her to quit the guard and work here full time.”

“Please don’t tell me that.” Will said. “Anyway, just here for my usual, then I was gonna go sign up for the baron’s twenty-five and under tournament.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“I was hoping I could get beat up and someone would nurse me back to health with raspberry tarts. That’s pretty much my only reason for going.”

“That’s dumb!”

Will’s heart sank.

“Everyone knows you nurse men back to health with meat pie.” She said with a mischievous grin, letting Will’s heart off the hook.

“What-“

“-day is the tournament?” Ria said, her voice overlapping and overtaking Anna’s as she returned to the counter, her eyes intense.

“Next month sometime? I’m about to go sign up for it, so I’ll get the exact day then.”

“I’ll come with you!” Ria said eagerly. “I know city hall like the back of my hand.”

Anna frowned for a moment before her expression grew determined.

“I’ll come too!” she said, reaching behind herself and untying her apron. Ria quickly followed suit, diving into the back room.

“Where do you two think you’re going!?” an older woman’s voice cried.

“Official Guard business!” Ria’s voice called.

“What she said!” Anna’s voice followed. “Love you, Jean! Thanks for covering us!”

“Hey…what about my order!?” Will asked, pointing at the delicious pastries protected by the glass window.

Anna hustled back into the front, slipped his order in a couple baggies and took the payment before ducking under the bar and sprinting outside the building, leaving Will standing there flummoxed, holding two bags of dense bread.

“You girls better-“ An old woman with deep wrinkles, scars across her entire body, and a faded floral apron stormed out of the back, wielding a flour-covered rolling pin with the intent to crack some skulls.

The old woman’s gaze landed on Will.

Will hadn’t done anything wrong, but the sheer weight of being stared down by an old woman made him feel guilty, as her gaze dissected him.

“Ah. I see.” she said with a scowl that was greatly magnified by the lines in her face.

“That’ll be fifteen ivory for the inconvenience,” She said, holding out a gnarled hand.

The sheer weight of her gaze shut down any argument Will might’ve made, and he fished through his pocket pulling out two ten-pieces.

“Keep the change,” Will said before retreating, the old woman’s gaze burning a hole in the back of his neck.

Outside the bakery, Ria and Anna met him. Ria took his arm and dragged him away.

Will glanced over his shoulder and spotted the old woman watching them through the window like a gargoyle.

“I love bathhouses. My favorite is Lillian’s. How about you?” Ria asked.

“Huh?” Will grunted, turning his attention back to the girl towering over him.

“What’s your favorite bathhouse?” she asked.

“I don’t really go to them.”

“Gym?”

“Nah.”

“flophouse?”

“Nah.”

“Underground fight club?” Ria asked, cocking her head before muttering under her breath: “do those have lockers?”

“Ringmaster’s.” Will said.

“Favorite bakery?” Anna asked from his other side.

“Jean’s Bakery!” She and Will said together.

“You know Anna, your presence isn’t really required for this.” Ria said, scowling at the shorter girl.

“If I go back now, Jean will hit me. Might as well wait for her to calm down,” Anna said, latching onto Will’s other arm.

What is…happening right now?

Ria was trying to ‘investigate’ him in the most ham-fisted way that Will could possibly imagine, while Anna had dropped everything to go with him to register for a tournament because…why, exactly?

After a long and stressful trip into the center of the city, he’d registered for the tournament and they’d said their goodbyes, Ria scribbling notes on her arm while Anna just waved cheerfully.

That was weird, but let’s hope that’s the only trouble I have with girls today, Will thought as he walked past Thea’s lavish home. He wasn’t really equipped to deal with them on a regular basis and this development was stressing him out, even though his feet guided him to Jean’s bakery nearly every day.

CRASH!

Will’s head whipped around, spotting a leather-clad figure bursting out of Thea’s second-story window, twirling as she landed on the cobbled street, a leather satchel over her shoulder, stuffed with crumpled papers.

“AHAHAH! None can stop the Phantom Thief!”

I really should’ve knocked on wood, Will thought sourly.

“Stop her!” Thea shouted from the broken window, a torrent of water emerging from her fingers, creating tentacles to wrap around the leather-clad figure, only for the target to slip out of it’s hold and leap up to the rooftops.

“Will! She’s got all our money!” Thea shouted, pointing.

Will paused, frowning. There was no way a satchel that small could possibly hold all the money he’d been saving the last few days. Sacks full of ivory had been deposited with Thea for nearly a week now, and surely they were too bulky to carry in a single-

“They’re bearer bonds! I don’t have time to- Just get her!” Thea shouted, causing Will to bolt into action.

Because he’d put on his act with Frank the Tank just today, his Man-hunter ring was still unusable, leaving him with just the Sickle of Cold Harvest, which was plenty for his purposes.

Will sprinted up the side of the wall and dashed after the figure.

They were leaving foot prints pressed into the tiles as each stride pushed them faster and faster.

We’ll see about that, Will thought, shooting a bullet into his prey’s back.

The sprinting figure erupted with ice crystals and began tumbling haphazardly, smashing into the side of a wall before tumbling down into an alleyway.

Will pursued down into the alley and oriented himself on the human-shaped mass of ice, stooping down beside it.

“Alright,” Will said reaching for the frost-encrusted satchel. “Where’s the-“

The frost coating the outside of the satchel collapsed inward, revealing that there was nothing inside the hollow sheet of ice. The rest of the ice-covered figure did the same, scattering into tinkling crystals of pure ice.

There was no one inside.

Will heard the sound of a girl’s laughter growing distant.

Okay.

Gravity Charge

Will rose above the rooftops and flew in the direction he’d heard the laughter coming from, spotting an overweight man with rubbery lips and a balding head carrying a satchel.

Will didn’t bother to stop and demand answers, simply whistling through the air and hitting the man square in the side with both feet.

The man burst into ice and tumbled away from him. For a fraction of a second, Will thought he might’ve guessed wrong and committed murder, but a figure clad in black leather squeezed their way out of the layer of ice cocooning the heavyset man, becoming unnaturally narrow as they slipped out of a fist-sized hole in the ice.

Shapeshifter? More importantly, why isn’t Hoarfrost working on her?

The Phantom Thief tugged the satchel out last, some of the transformation seemingly shared with the objects she carried.

Then she was back to cackling and sprinting away, and Will was back to chasing her.

“Gotcha!” Will grabbed the girl in a headlock, which she proceeded to slip out of and kick him in the side for good measure. Will could only imagine it was some kind of Ability allowing her to be so elusive.

He would have tried to cripple her Build by taking her Relics, but he didn’t see any on her hands, neck or head.

This may require an indirect approach, Will thought, aiming for a tackle. And a bit of pain.

The girl slipped around the tackle as though she were made of air, causing Will to nearly hit a wall at full speed.

He rebounded off and sped up into the sky, matching her leap as she hit the rooftops again.

“You’re getting kind of annoying!” she shouted over her shoulder as Will caught up to her again, his speed only growing with time.

“Drop my money and we don’t have a problem!”

“Make me!”

“Gladly!” Will shouted, pulling out his tomahawk and taking a swing as he caught up.

At the brandishing of lethal weapons, the thief gave him her undivided attention, slipping around the attack with unnatural grace and twisting herself around his arm like the constrictor snakes on the seventh floor.

CRACK!

The thief had outlandish strength, overpowering Will’s natural Resistance to break his arm with a swift twist. Will hissed in pain, staggering backwards as the thief flowed away from him, taking his tomahawk with her.

Oh damnit, Will thought sourly, cradling his broken arm with his stump. That wasn’t part of the plan.

“Thanks for the souvenir!” She crowed, waggling his hand-axe at him. “NONE CAN STOP THE PHANTOM THIEF!”

Will didn’t pursue as she sped away. Only having one broken arm available to him was less than ideal. What would he do if he caught her? Kick her to death? More likely she’d break his leg.

Besides, there was more in life than winning.

Not that I didn’t win, Will thought, flying back to Thea’s place.

“Did you get her?” Thea asked, stepping out on her front porch.

“No but I hollowed out the satchel while we were fighting.” Will said, dropping the contents of the satchel from his Phantom Hand into Thea’s waiting hands. These ‘bearer bonds’ had exceptionally low volume, which worked out well for him.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Thea sighed, clutching the fancy-looking papers that represented their entire fortune to her chest.

“Have you considered a bank?” Will asked, to which Thea gave him a sour look. “Also you owe me a new weapon.”

***The Phantom Thief***

Today’s shmuck put up a good chase, Bee thought, spinning the tomahawk between her fingers like a baton as she arrived at her hideout.

“But unfortunately for him, none can stop the Phantom Thief!” Bee declared to her trophies, scattered across the dilapidated warehouse. Priceless tapestries, gems, statues, and paintings collecting dust and rainwater from the leaky roof.

If her interest had been to preserve or re-sell them, she might have taken pains to prevent their degradation, but she was only after the thrill of acquiring. The powerful rush of imposing her will on the status quo.

Proving that she had the power to take things away from the powerful, and not the other way around.

Like…

Bee’s thoughts danced around that particular sinkhole with practiced ease.

“let’s see what we got,” she said, burying the tomahawk in a priceless antique and collapsing into an ancient throne to peer into the satchel.

It was empty.

Bee closed the satchel.

Bee opened it again.

Still empty.

“But…”

“But… none can stop the Phantom Thief?” She asked the empty room full of priceless treasures. There was no response.

Apparently someone can stop you.

Bee didn’t like that.

Bee didn’t like that at all.

It made her feel small and weak.

Helpless.

She glanced up and right there was a marble bust of her pursuer staring back at her, with that same self-assured smirk.

Something about him felt wrong. It reminded her of Bee from before the Phantom Thief.

She leapt up and wrenched the tomahawk out of the painting and began chopping away at the marble bust of the schmuck.

Wait, Bee paused mid-hack. I never actually saw his face.

So how do I know what he looked like?

The more Bee thought about it, the more her head hurt, until she finally gave up, tossing the axe aside, where it embedded itself in an ancient vase.

Try as she might though, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, her mind constantly turning it’s attention back to her pursuer even as she tried to distract herself with counting gems or reading old yellowed manuscripts about the gods of old.

I need to know more about that goat-face. Something about him makes my hackles rise.

Besides, none can stop the Phantom Thief…for long.