Chapter 220: 220 | The Price of Victory (and Pants)

First place.

My brain couldn’t quite process it. We’d beaten Blair’s squad—the elite, obscenely rich, guild-trained psychopaths—at their own game.

"Holy shit," Jordan kept saying, over and over. "Holy actual shit. We’re ranked first. We’re fucking ranked first."

Belle clutched our core haul against her chest with a manic grin plastered on her face. "You know what that means, right? Everyone gets their share. Five thousand credits per person with a little extra for supplies."

"We need to cash these in first," Misato reminded her, but even our usually stoic captain couldn’t hide her smile.

Naomi hadn’t let go of my waist since I emerged from the portal. Her arms stayed locked around me like she was afraid I might disappear if she released her grip. I didn’t mind. The warmth felt nice after the damp chill of the swamp.

The FGRA handler closed his laptop and handed Misato a tablet. "Sign here to confirm core receipt and extraction time."

As Misato took care of the paperwork, I glanced down at my tactical suit. What remained of it, anyway. The swamp’s acidic water and the frog mucus had eaten through huge sections of the material. My left sleeve was completely gone, and my right pant leg looked like Swiss cheese. The material around my chest had fared a bit better, but even there, quarter-sized holes revealed skin underneath.

"Hey guys," I said, "maybe we should check out our gear situation."

The others looked down at themselves for what seemed like the first time since extraction.

"Oh fuck," Belle whispered.

Her suit had suffered worse than mine. The entire left side from hip to mid-thigh was gone, revealing a generous expanse of skin and the edge of what looked like blue underwear. Her right sleeve had dissolved to the elbow, and the chest section had multiple holes revealing glimpses of her bra.

Naomi quickly released me and looked down at her own suit. "Oh no." The damage wasn’t as severe as Belle’s, but her tactical suit had holes across the stomach and chest, with her pink bra clearly visible through the largest tear. Her pants had fared better, but the left leg was nearly gone below the knee.

"Don’t look!" Belle snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jordan, true to form, immediately tilted his head back to stare at the clouds. "I’m not looking. See? Looking at birds. Very interesting birds up there."

"There aren’t any birds, Jordan."

"Well, now I’m looking at the distinct lack of birds. Fascinating."

Misato finished with the handler and turned back to us. Her suit had held up better than ours, but even she had holes across her shoulders and a large tear down her right side.

"We need to get changed," she said, stating the obvious. "Our bus is waiting, but we’re not getting back to campus until after midnight."

"Can’t we just find a gas station bathroom?" Jordan asked, still staring upward.

Belle made a disgusted noise. "I am not changing in a gas station bathroom. Who knows what kind of diseases live in those places?"

"The kind that eat through clothes, apparently," I muttered, inspecting a particularly large hole in my pant leg.

Misato considered for a moment. "There’s a small town about twenty minutes from here. We can cash in these cores at the local FGRA office and find a place to stay for the night." She looked at our ragged group. "I think we’ve earned it."

No one argued with that.

The FGRA office in Oakdale, California looked like it had been converted from an old post office. The building sat on a quiet street, its plain exterior giving no hint of the interdimensional business conducted inside. Only a small sign with the FGRA shield logo indicated what it was.

Misato handled the core transaction while the rest of us waited in the lobby, trying not to draw attention to our dissolving clothes. The woman behind the desk kept shooting us concerned looks, clearly wondering if we needed medical attention.

"You kids okay?" she finally asked.

"Swamp gate," Jordan explained. "Acidic water."

She nodded knowingly. "Got some emergency ponchos in the back. Want me to grab a few?"

"God, yes," Belle said. "Please."

The ponchos were cheap plastic things meant for rainstorms, but they covered the worst of our clothing situation. I pulled mine on gratefully, feeling less like a participant in a very specific kind of entertainment venue.

Misato returned with five credit chips. "Five thousand four hundred eighty each," she announced, passing them out. "The FGRA lady recommended a hotel two blocks down. Nothing fancy, but it’s clean."

"Do they have a clothing store nearby?" Naomi asked, clutching her poncho closed.

"There’s a mall about half a mile away. Should still be open for another hour."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Belle was already heading for the door, her blue hair bouncing with each step. "I need pants that aren’t dissolving off my ass."

The hotel was exactly what you’d expect from a small-town establishment—clean but dated, with a faded carpet pattern that had probably been stylish in the early 2000s. The lobby featured a small breakfast area and a reception desk where a bored-looking man in his fifties was watching something on his phone.

He looked up as we entered, plastic ponchos crinkling. "Help you?"

"We need rooms for the night," Misato said. "Five people."

The man glanced at our bizarre attire but didn’t comment. Working at a hotel near an FGRA site probably meant he’d seen stranger things. "Got three rooms available. Two doubles and a single."

Misato turned to us. "How do we want to split up?"

"I’ll take the single," Belle said immediately.

"Why do you get the single?" Jordan demanded.

"Because I need space for all my trauma after almost dying in a swamp."

"We all almost died in that swamp!"

"Yes, but I’m more delicate." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

I snorted. Belle was about as delicate as a chainsaw.

Misato interrupted before the argument could escalate. "Belle and Naomi can share one double. Jordan and Jace take the other. I’ll take the single."

Belle opened her mouth to protest, but Misato gave her a look that shut her down immediately. "We’re here to rest, not argue about sleeping arrangements."

The receptionist handed over three key cards. "Rooms 212, 214, and 215. Checkout is at noon."

"Is the mall still open?" Naomi asked.

"For another hour. Turn right when you leave, walk four blocks, can’t miss it."

Misato pocketed her key. "Everyone get changed and meet back here in twenty minutes. We need clothes that don’t dissolve."

The mall was typical suburban America—two stories of chain stores anchored by a struggling department store at one end and a movie theater at the other. Most of the shops were already closing, employees giving us dirty looks as we rushed in fifteen minutes before closing time.

"I need everything," Belle announced dramatically. "Underwear, pants, shirt, socks. Everything."

"We all do," I reminded her. "Let’s split up and meet at the food court in thirty minutes."