The result of Imerella’s efforts was a speech by Abraham with somewhat reduced anti-outsider rhetoric. John wasn’t convinced that was really enough, but it was what they got. ‘This whole affair is eroding my respect for the guy,’ the Gamer thought on his way to the airport. The current president of the Little Maryland was a much better peacetime diplomat than he was a unifying figure. ‘He should have stopped at leading the foreign affairs or something.’

Aclysia, with black hair and a cute summer outfit of mostly white clothes, looked out of the window of the cab, to her phone where she was tracking their location on a map, then to John, whose face she deemed much more interesting. For a few moments, she had that dreamy look about her that people in love just had when looking at the subject of their desire. Extra fitting that some romantic classical music was running in the background. The driver had changed the channel from the usual pop-music earlier, much to John’s appreciation.

Aside from said driver, it was just the two of them. Sure, the elementals were technically around, but they were sitting in a very mundane taxi right now. “I request a few weeks off after this affair concludes,” she let him know.

“Off from what… and what for?” John asked, not able to imagine that Aclysia wanted an actual vacation of her household chores. That was also a worst-case scenario for his living. He could barely even remember when he had last held a vacuum cleaner - probably back in Germany. Without the ordering hand of the maid, there would be a lot of clutter flying around in no time.

“From additional duties such as crime fighting, guarding you and other non-chore related occupations,” the weaponized maid answered and John took a relieved breath at the prospect of not having to figure out how a microwave worked again. Nothing against heated pizza, but he had gotten really spoiled in regards to his food. Well, he had gotten spoiled in most regards. “With the purpose to get a driver’s license. Also, a pilot license, maybe.”

“On one hand, I do think that’s not the worst idea of all times,” John leaned over to her to whisper the next part directly into her ear, “but I don’t think I want you in the driving seat for the entire time.” The cab driver must have really been wondering what kind of roleplay the two of them were into at this point, but he was the quiet type and the Gamer didn’t give a tosh about some random person’s opinion about him anyway. Well, he cared enough to have said that part quietly.

“Yes…” Aclysia hummed and took his hand while he slumped back into his seat. “That would be a hindrance…. The problem remains, however.” She was right about that; it was about time they stopped relying on public transportation, given how frequently they were travelling.

If he thought about it logically, he really should get himself some sort of giant bus, basically as close to a hotel on wheels as possible, along with a private plane. “So that hindrance aside, it’s still a good idea we get those, you, me and Beatrice, that is,” John came to a conclusion, “Whether we hire another person to usually drive and/or fly us around is another matter. At the base, we should be only dependant on each other.”

Aclysia nodded, “That seems like an acceptable starting point.” She had barely finished the sentence when the cab slowed down. They both looked out of the window. Still a bit away from the airport entrance, they had come to a halt.

John’s paranoia kicked in, his body tensing the slightest bit as he halfway expected a sudden ambush. It would have been a terrible spot to try, basically one of the most frequented places, even from an Abyssal standpoint, in the city. Driving them out into the outskirts, to a trap barrier at an agreed location, would have been way more effective. In theory, Aclysia was checking on their location regularly to avoid exactly that.

Instead, the cab driver opened his mouth and informed them, “Small traffic jam, not unusual at this time of the day.” The guy, who Observe had already confirmed was a mundane earlier, told them. “You two didn’t have luggage, right? Might be quicker if you get out right now and walk the rest of the way. Can’t imagine you want to sit in this car longer than you need to.”

He was right, John didn’t really want to. It was almost thirty degrees outside and, although the ventilation was on full blast, there was this usual ‘hot car’ smell of plastic. Pretty considerate of the guy, way more than the Gamer expected from taxi drivers. “Right,” he agreed and then grabbed his seldomly used wallet, only ever coming out on mundane shopping trips.

Despite the little usage, John still had replaced his old one with a luxuriously soft piece of leather relatively recently. It just fit with his new ‘nonchalant rich guy’ image better than the old, if still pretty high-quality, worn down one his dad had gifted him on his thirteenth birthday. That one he kept in a box with other keepsakes in his bedroom.

He reached inside, and then, without much in the way of consideration, gave the driver one hundred bucks in smaller bills. The tip was several times the price of the actual ride. Despite this, the driver only looked as surprised as he needed to be as he took and counted them. “Wish you a nice day!” he enthusiastically stated as John opened the door and stepped into the midday sun. The firm ground of the sidewalk felt nice under his feet.

“Clever guy,” John mumbled when he realized what had just happened. Doubtlessly, he wasn’t the first young rich guy with a hot lady friend running around in DC, ready to drop some extra-large tips on the considerate driver. Now that he thought about it, it would be weirder if the local population of taxi drivers hadn’t developed strategies to identify and get as large tips as possible from guys like him. “He probably had us figured out after five minutes.” The Gamer was actually amused by this, remembering how quickly the driver had gone from ‘friendly chatting’ to ‘deeply respecting their privacy’. In hindsight, even the change of the radio channel made sense for that purpose.

Impressive, how good people could get at a job with so little qualifications as driving people around. John liked that about his fellow humans. It was something he had given little thought to back in school, where being a good student netted you no direct benefits aside from the ridicule of the quarterback, who also happened to be slave/boyfriend to the local bitchqueen. ‘I may be a bit bitter,’ John thought and turned to the happy world that was his arm around Aclysia’s waist.

They passed the cars rather quickly; the traffic jam was indeed easier taken in stride than drive. Soon, they arrived at the airport and made their way to their station. John had an eager eye out for Sigmund, however unlikely it was to run into the same guy twice in this giant building.

Aclysia’s immensely good mood turned slightly sour when they were greeted by a very typical sign inside airports. ‘Due to a previous plane arriving late, we have to delay this flight by an hour. We appreciate your understanding,’ it read. So people had to catch their follow-up flight. Annoying, but it made sense.

“They always write ‘We appreciate your understanding,’” Aclysia got worked up about this, “but my actual understanding of the situation is that they make you wait, Master, and this is unacceptable.”

“I guess this is why we need a private plane,” John stated as he looked around. There were a bunch of people glancing in his direction and inching closer. Once again, his paranoia felt rather triggered.

John was a bit confused at the choice there. Was it commentary about how the press was going to write falsehoods about him regardless of him meeting them or not? Maybe they were a bunch of tabloid trash and talking to them would give him a bad rap, while not talking to them would make him look like an entitled snob? Whatever was true, there was one thing for certain: he was overthinking this.

‘Might as well,’ John decided and pushed the ‘Yes’ button. He popped into a barrier and he suddenly found himself in a very empty airport. Except for where he was, where there were suddenly a bunch more people than in the real counterpart, with more popping in now that they had seen him go inside.

“Mister Newman, may I…!” “Candidate Newman, Hivemind TV here and…!” “Hello, John Newman…!” “Hey there, big boy, remember this catgirl?” A bunch of reporters descended on him like a swarm of locusts, only to all come a grinding halt about two metres away from him. Coincidentally, or completely related if one was honest, the rough distance covered by Eclys when pointed straight away from John by the extended arm of a maid that was about 1,80m tall.

Cameramen almost fell over as they had to stop their momentum or risk running straight into cutting range. “You will keep a respectful distance from my John,” Aclysia warned in the tone of the paparazzi murderer, dismissing her weapon into her quick-equip storage when there was nodding all around. “Good.”

“Okay, you can come a bit closer,” John allowed the reporters, happy to be in control of the situation. Although he wondered what they were all doing here. He looked over to the catgirl on whose talk show he had been recently. “You, how did you know I was going to be here?”

“We have our sources. I could tell you all about it in private,” the catgirl said, pulling the usual stunt and emphasizing her boobs as she talked. John was seriously tempted to show that kitty a good time, since he already had some of it to kill.

John thought about where he could possibly have leaks for his schedule. Who did he share it with? His girls, obviously, who else? The campaign managing crew he had partly hired and mostly gotten by referral of the generals. He didn’t know all of them, so there was a big chance somebody there had, perhaps accidentally, told someone that he was going to leave at this day and the press had just camped since the morning.

“Alright then, I’ll take you up on that offer,” John decided, putting the blonde catgirl under his other arm. He heard a pleased purring and the snapping of cameras. Would this cause a minor scandal tomorrow with lots of ‘Candidate Newman has sex with a local catgirl!’ articles? Absolutely. Did he care? No, he was going to have sex with a local catgirl. Mentally, he assured Aclysia that she was very much going to be part of this.

“I suggest we find a private place then… you mind if we bring the camera?” the talk show host asked in more detail, clearly ready to take pleasure before business but also sell some rather saucy porn by making the pleasure into business.

“First, however, I am going to answer some questions,” John announced, standing there with half an erection and a full smile. “Would be rude of me not to since you all went through the effort to come out here.” Immediately, fifteen microphones were shoved into his face. He pointed his head at one reporter and thus allowed him to speak up.

“What do you think of president Abraham’s speech held earlier this day, calling you a foreign invader?”

“Same thing I thought the last twenty times he said similar things: it’s a dangerous rhetoric and I rather he didn’t,” John answered calmly. “I have every intention of accepting the results of this election and this kind of partisan language isn’t good for the stability of this wonderful country.” Almost letting slip a comment that people should look into Abraham’s campaign advisors, John quickly sealed his lips. He was pretty sure that they would find a lot of foreign influence there, since he couldn’t imagine the neighbours were just looking over at Fusion expanding, however peacefully he did it. Instead, he moved on, otherwise he would just partake in the same dangerous rhetoric, ”You, with the green tie, next.”

“Any word on the theory that you have been colluding with the Horned Rat to create this instability in the first place?”

Looking utterly confounded, John just shook his head as he furrowed his eyebrows. “I am sorry, what?”

“It’s a theory that popped up on a segment friendly with Abraham a few days ago. Is it true or not?”

“Obviously not,” John felt like he was taking crazy pills. “For a start, and you can look this up rather cheaply on the Abyss Auction, I haven’t been in the Abyss long enough to participate in any long-standing conspiracy. I also don’t know what Ri- the Horned Rat would gain from doing so.” He nodded towards a short woman with red hair, “You, next.”

“You were about to call the Horned Rat something else there, what was it?”

Well, that’s what he got for having habits, “Richard, it’s a nickname I gave him because he’s a bit of a dick.”

“Follow-up question,” she quickly went on before the Gamer could pick a new reporter. “Have you two known each other for a while?”

“We met by chance or because he wanted to, can’t be sure with that guy. We have a couple of common interests, particularly he has interests in getting on my nerves.” It felt the safest not to mention the part where the Horned Rat wanted to use him as a counterbalance to Romulus. “We are not a particularly tight-knit, which is why our alliance is purely defensive – once it actually goes into effect. Now!” the redhead had more questions, as they all did, but John was quicker this time and moved onto the next person. “You, with the large glasses.”

The reporter in question breathed in audibly like a proper neckbeard as he tipped his fedora. “Don’t you think your treatment of women is degrading?!”

“Only when they are into it,” John joked, “then I am all for degrading them. Otherwise, no, go away and find…”

“Misogynist!”

“…Aclysia, would you?”

“At once,” the weaponized maid drew her dagger, but didn’t get to move away as John kept her under his arm.

“I meant DEBUNK him, not de-head him,” John hastily pointed out.

“I would just have taken a few pounds off him,” Aclysia insisted as the weapon vanished again. “I have never seen an Abyssal this fat… To answer the question, my master is treating us all well and loves us as individuals. None of us are seen as objects.”

“You’re an Artificial Spirit…” a heaving breath had to be taken before the neckbeard could finish the accusation. “…he has built the internalized patriarchy into you!”

The knife made its return, “Master has allowed me free will since I learned that it exists,” the weaponized maid stared wide-eyed at the accuser, “You will…”

“It’s okay,” John interrupted, seeing no way how this was going to be a productive use of his time. “Look, mate, you can have your opinion and I respect that you came out here to face me. Just don’t harass me or any of my girls over it or I will throw a crocodile at you.”

“Wow…” the guy tipped his fedora a second time, “YOUR girls? Really preten- OH MY GOD!” Crying like a child that fell of the slide, the neckbeard tried to fend off Stirwin as John made his threat true and threw him at the guy. Even in the hatchling form, the infinity elemental had more Stats than a level 14 Fedora Tipper and thus put the guy in full retreat.

“And that was the last time I will ever deal with that topic again,” John declared, turning back to the reporters with a maid and a catgirl still under his arms, Stirwin climbing the outside of his summoner’s pants and soon taking refuge in John’s breast pocket. “You,” he pointed at a woman with nice thighs. “Next.”

“Yeah, Kelly of the Thirsty Abyssals Show here, can we make this a foursome?”

“Sorry, but my girlfriend has only approved this catgirl,” John had to deny. “And I like to give new things a thorough inspection,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “if you know what I m-“

He sensed fire. He was ripped to the ground by Aclysia. Together with the catgirl, he fell onto the hard floor. Flaring heat travelled by over his head. First thing he did was activate Mana Protection, then he quickly changed into his battle set at the flick of a button. It still took time to change, but at least he didn’t have to drag every single item into its slot.

In the meantime, chaos broke loose, several magic attacks flying in his direction and hitting unrelated reporters instead. Aclysia was already charging at the assailants, a bunch of masked people that had scattered in a circle around them. They must have just entered the barrier; John hadn’t been that relaxed that he would have missed something like that.

‘Don’t kill them!’ his mental command went out as the rest of his elementals manifested and scattered throughout the encirclement. Most of his mana went to Undine, who erected a large bubble around John and the frightened reporters with it. The spells were absorbed effortlessly, fire, ice and electricity, all clashing against the barrier and fizzling out. Aside from the element of surprise, it didn’t seem the attackers had a lot to offer.

Desperate sounds of pain and panic came from the hurt and their coworkers, afraid they may lose a member of their teams and friends. ‘Leave this to me,’ Undine assured John that she got this under control, her form splitting into two, allowing her to maintain the barrier while also lending first aid where necessary.

John nodded and headed out of the barrier. His help wasn’t exactly needed; the first thing he saw was Salamander smashing somebody’s face into a concrete pillar. “Cowards,” the endflame elemental growled, kicking the girl in question to make sure she was still alive, as to John’s wishes, then flying over to the next target. There were around two dozen of these masked assailants around.

The second they realized John had stepped out of the protection, they aimed at him. The spellwork bounced off his Mana Protection with just as little an effect as it had on Undine’s shield. His mana was chipped down, but unless he stood still and took it for an extended period, he was basically invincible.

With one exception. A blue fireball flew into his direction and took of a hefty chunk of his mana. John turned to face the apparent leader of this operation, as clad in black and a mask as the rest of them. “You make a lot of shit decisions for somebody in range,” John stated as he summoned a wave of Shardbound. In a split second, he aimed and fired.

The guy jumped to the side, but John had calculated that in. Shardbound, per default, summoned four shards and he was in the habit of aiming two where his enemy was and using the remaining to cover both left and right of the target. Dodging with a fluid movement, the left shard only caught the (presumed) man on the foot and sliced into his heel.

‘Strong magic, in good shape,’ John noted, Observe only returned a blank window, as he threw a second wave out while the assailant was still off balance. This time he inflicted a more consequential wound, a cut under the shoulder, separating part of the tendon. With one arm now crippled, the guy immediately tried to leave the barrier, but John had now assumed control over it. “Next time, bring a Fateweaver,” the Gamer walked towards his target, side-stepping a hastily thrown third fireball, weak enough that it went back down to the usual red flames.

The guy turned around, doubtlessly to find the edge of the barrier and escape the traditional way – by smashing through the border with raw physical strength. Once outside, his wound would heal to his pre-entering state and he could just vanish into the crowd. A butterfly with yellow leaves for wings cut through the air in front of the man. A moment later, there was the sound of rumbling stone.

As an avalanche of concrete and dirt, Gnome ripped apart the floor and created a tall earth wall, jumping from one of her butterflies to the next. Her unleashed ability ended once she had created a semi-circle north of the water bubble, cutting off the retreat of most assailants.

Sylph flew over to the leader, standing back against the wall in a panicked attempted to find some route out. The remainder of his allies were getting cleaned up, with Aclysia, not particularly subtle, grabbing one of them and tossing that person like a sack across the room. They crashed into the wall next to the leader and slid down like a ragdoll. Then the maid approached, cold rage burning in her eyes.

It was likely a mercy when Sylph arrived first on site and pointed a finger at him. “Zappidy zap!” she chirped and a blue torrent of lightning burst out of her hand. His muscles tensed and jittered as he lost all control over them, standing on accident for a bit, then falling to the floor still spasming. “Hope you don’t have a heart attack or something!” Sylph apologized as she landed next to his head and poked his cheek with her tiny hand, about as tall as the assailant’s hand herself. “Very bad idea though, very, very bad idea, to attack Johnny, that is!”

This situation was under control.