Sworded Affair

For a brief, terrifying moment, Noah Knight honestly thought that this was the end for him. Then rationality reasserted itself, reminding him that the bear hadn't made any aggressive moves and indeed seemed content where it was, lounging against the upturned dining table at the end of the corridor without a care in the world. Around it, packets of dried beef jerky had been methodically torn open, at least two dozen packs worth of plastic strewn about the floor at an estimate. Picking himself back up from the floor, the first thing Noah did was check he was still wearing his glasses. Regrettably, they remained affixed firmly to his face, and thus his poor eyesight could not be blamed for the bear's existence.

The second thing Noah did was reach for the concealed Glock 19 at his waist; standard issue for members of The Security Service operating in potentially hostile territory. Strictly speaking, his house didn't qualify and he wasn't meant to take the weapon back home at all, but Noah really doubted his immmediate superiors would care about this particular breach of protocol, assuming they were even still alive. Pointing the pistol at the bear, Noah lined up a shot towards its vulnerable eye before abruptly aborting the motion, feeling rather silly.

"The stress has clearly gotten to me, if I'm thinking of shooting a bear just for a bit of scavenging." Noah muttered.

Left unsaid was the question of whether he'd manage to down a bear at all; his sidearm being designed for stealth and loaded with rounds rated for human adversaries rather than large animals. With that in mind, if the bear wasn't aggressive to begin with, there was no real point provoking a fight he might not win. Instead, Noah headed upstairs, sweeping each bedroom, bathroom and study with a practiced eye. All the electronics were gone; burnt as thoroughly as all the units in his office, much to the consternation of the office manager.

"A whole day spent trying to find a single working mainframe, all for nothing," Noah yawned, well used to all-nighters given his career choice, but still not enjoying them any more than he had as a fresh graduate analyst, newly employed at the Service.

Whilst he longed to fall into his bed already, there were still more rooms to sweep. Reluctantly heading back down, he avoided the dining room still occupied by the bear, checking the living room, kitchen and even the broom closet for good measure and finding no sign of Emma. It was only then that his tired mind remembered the basement and his other task, spurring him to head down into the depths.

"What the hell?" Noah boggled at the ruin before him, full of priceless antiquities all smashed into pieces. "I thought this was supposed to be the safest room."

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Seeing no sign of Emma, Noah turned his attention to the wrecked antiques; utterly disregarding the majority of the decoy items worth tens of thousands in his search for the one that truly mattered. Naturally, it alone seemed to have vanished without a trace, because when it rains it pours.

"Wonderful."

Reaching into his shirt pocket, Noah withdrew an over-sized commemorative coin decorated with the union jack, and held it against his ear. Immediately, a faint buzzing filled his ear, gradually tapering out over the next ten seconds until finally he heard a single sharp beep.

"Priority message from Officer Knight to regional command. Breach at station eight, I say again, breach at station eight. Do not answer, out."

His final duty for the day discharged, Noah pocketed the coin as he headed back up to his bedroom and finally allowed himself to fall into his bed. Moments later, he was asleep, content that he'd done everything he could. There'd be plenty more to do tomorrow, but at least by then his head would be clearer.

—

Yawning widely, Emma slowly returned to the waking world. Stretching her right hand out, she reached for her bedside table to find her phone, her blind fumbling proving utterly unsuccessful. With an annoyed grunt, her eyes opened, and it was only then that Emma remembered she wasn't back home. Instead of waking up in her small childhood room, painted fifty shades of pink and surrounded by a collection of stuffed animals, her current surroundings wouldn't be out of place in an episode of The Crown.

A plush, king size bed, complete with goose down pillows and quilts, opposite an oakwood desk and armchair, all illuminated by a crystal chandelier. The bathroom remained an unknown quantity, Emma having had no reason to go inside, but she imagined it was of similar standard and would fit right in at a 5-star hotel. The only big differences were the lack of any windows or a TV, though there was an analog clock, telling her that she'd been asleep for more than her twelve hour cooldown period between fights.

"Huh, I needed sleep more than I thought," Emma murmured. "Wasn't I supposed to be immune to the concerns of the living?"

[You're immune to the debilitating effect of physical fatigue, yes. Mental strain is an entirely different matter; one that afflicts all sentient beings to varying degrees, and is not so easily solved except as the old saying goes, by turning it off and on again.]

"Alright, sleep when I can, I guess." Emma agreed readily enough, as true to the System's warning she was already feeling much sharper after her Dungeon-mandated break.

Passing by the closed bathroom door on the way back to the theater, Emma touched her visor in contemplation.

"Do you think this could be modified to allow food as well? If mental health is the watchword here, a fresh pizza would do me a world of good."

[In this new era, anything you can imagine is probably possible. You just need enough levels or to find the right reward. For now though? Why not ask for a pizza-flavored soda or something? Wouldn't be any weirder than the rest of the Dungeon.]

"Good point," Emma agreed, heading out of the room in a straight line towards the nearest drinks stall.