Mike looked up at the huge building. At least thirty floors, spread across two blocks, a glass and metal monstrosity that sat right on top of a nexus of power. He could feel the power thrumming through the concrete. All he had to do was stretch out his hand and immediately the power could come to him.
That is, if it wasn’t walled in.
Mike thought about trying to grab the power, but more than likely the technomancers would notice, and come down on him like flies on shit. Too many of them and only one of him. He was good, but he wasn’t invincible.
Instead, he walked forward and pushed open the glass doors, into the lobby. A security guard was about sixty yards in front of him, taking the place of the receptionist. the stylized blue Texitron logo emblazoned across the wall behind him. There were three glass gates where people could pass through.
Mike went over to the guard. “Hello. I have an appointment.”
“With?” the guard grumbled.
“Mr. Johanson.”
The guard looked Mike up and down. Mike was his usual casual self, in a denim jacket, a t-shirt, and jeans. “The Mr. Johanson?”
“That’s right.” Mike grinned. “Your CEO.”
“Sign in on that touch-screen over there,” said the guard. Mike went over to the screen. He debated on putting in his name, but decided to anyway. For “Company”, he typed “Teen Guardians.” A piece of paper spit out at him when he finished.
It was actually sticky paper, and he peeled off the back. For kicks, he put it on upside down, and went back to the guard.
“Mr. Thorne will be down to get you,” said the guard.
“Okay,” said Mike, and walked past the glass gates to wait at another wall. He stood against it, whistling a tuneless ditty, or so others would think. It was a spell of protection, of Seeing the truth in things. He assumed things would be covered with glamour here, and he wanted to make sure he saw through it.
Eventually, the elevator doors opened and a man with a long black pony tail stepped out. He had olive skin and glowing green eyes. “Mr. LeBonte?”
“Here,” said Mike, standing up straight. The man had an obvious glamour about him, which explained why the guard didn’t think anything of the glowing eyes. Mike chose not to, either.
The man held out his hand over the glass gate. “I am Isaac Thorne.”
“You know me.” Thorne took Mike’s hand and held it in a vise grip, tight and firm. Mike let go, but Thorne did not. He’s trying to read me, Mike thought, thankful he had done the protection spell. If anything, the man would be able to see through Mike’s own glamour if he tried hard enough, but Mike would know if he did.
Thorne finally let go, stepping away from the glass gate. It beeped, and opened inward. “Mr. Johanson is in a meeting and has asked me to take you to see our facilities.”
Thorne spoke like every word was forced out of him.
“I’m concerned about magical guns,” Mike said. “What can you tell me about that?”
“Please come with me,” Thorne said, and led him to the elevator. He let Mike in first, then stepped inside, pressing the button to 15. The elevator started going up, slowly at first, then picking up speed.
Mike looked at Thorne closely. Something was definitely odd about the man. Mike noticed now that Thorne did not make eye contact with him except that first moment they shook hands. Did he find what he wanted?
The elevator bounced slightly as it arrived at the designated floor. Again, Thorne let Mike out. Thorne stepped out and started walking down the corridor. He walked down a couple of corridors, while Mike slowed down and tried to see through the frosted glass of the doors. Thorne stopped after Mike fell far behind, and returned to him. “You wanted to see the guns?”
“What’s going on in here?”
“Many things,” said Thorne, and continued down the corridor.
“Like..?”
“You wanted to see the guns. Right this way.”
Mike frowned and followed Thorne. “I thought you said I’d get the tour.”
“You wanted to see the guns.”
Mike muttered, “Forget it.” They stopped at a door, and Thorne pressed his thumb against a pad. The door clicked open, and Thorne led Mike into a room.
Lights flickered on as they entered. Mike saw a range, with targets, and on the other end was a table with assorted guns on them. Thorne was going to the wall, where a near arsenal was there. He plucked a pair of handguns from the wall and brought them over.
“Unloaded,” he said, opening the chamber and showing Mike. Mike tried to Look to see if there were any runes carved in the barrel, but Thorne closed it too quickly. “Once you put your finger on the trigger, it loads.”
Mike looked down at the pistols, not touching them.
“Have you ever shot a pistol before, Mr. LeBonte?”
“Can’t say I have,” he said. He was too busy Looking at them, trying to find the magic. But the magic was so tightly woven that it didn’t look like there was any, at least no runic magic that he could see. Damn these technomancers, with magic he didn’t know.
He picked one up. It was heavy in his hand, uncomfortable. He put it down. “It reloads on its own?”
“Yes. Whatever bullets you wish.”
“How?”
“It senses what you want and will load the correct bullets.”
“How does it sense? What kind of spell?”
Thorne said, without any hint of a smile, “If we told you that, Mr. LeBonte, we would be out of business.”
“That would be a shame,” said Mike. He would have to go back to his own grimoires and read up again about the damn Technomancers, what he knew and could figure out from their secretive order. But those were Technomancers from Paragon; what’s to say that these technomancers were different?
He needed to start somewhere.
“I’ve seen enough,” Mike said. “I’d like to see more of your facilities–”
“Unfortunately,” said Thorne, looking up at a clock, “I am unable to give you that tour.”
“That’s okay, I can find my own way out.”
“No, sir, I must escort you.”
Dammit, Mike thought, as Thorne let Mike leave the room first. The lights went out as he walked out.
As they walked back to the lobby, he realized he would have to admit to Fold his shortcomings. He hated doing that.