CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A Starry Night Infiltration, Part 1

It was nighttime. A new moon shone in the sky and was surrounded by twinkling lights that were far brighter than their usual setting. This was a clear sign that the gods were watching tonight’s adventure.

Sam was standing on the roof of a low-rise building overlooking the New York Metropolitan Museum on the other side of Fifth Avenue.

Earlier that day, an explosion of undetermined origin had started a fire in one of the ancient Greek galleries, destroying thousands of years of historical artwork and relics.

A fire in a prominent museum was already a strange circumstance because there were supposed to be several security measures to prevent such an incident, but what drew Sam there that night was a small bit in the morning’s reporting on ANN about a specific piece of ancient literature that had been destroyed in the blaze.

“I’ve never actually seen the Delphic Chronicle,” Sam said.

But you know what it is, don’t you, kid? the master’s disembodied voice asked.

“The Delphic Chronicle is a collection of prophecies from the old Oracles of Delphi that were written down for prosperity,” Sam recited like he’d read this description from a book. “Not all of its prophecies have come true though…”

Prophecies don’t always come true… Especially not prophecies that were written by priests who were as high as kites when they’d heard it from oracles who predicted the end of the world or some equally horrific future for humanity while in a similarly drugged stupor, the master chuckled.

“Well, no one’s ever going to know just how accurate the Delphic Chronicle is anymore, seeing as the fire burned it to a crisp,” Sam replied dryly.

Alone, the destruction of a piece of literature, no matter how important, wouldn’t have caught Sam’s attention right away. But he’d remembered how one of the world’s most prominent seers had died in another fire only the night before. This was too much of a coincidence, and the master had agreed with him.

I think it’s worth checking out, don’t you? he’d asked Sam earlier that day.

Sam had staked out the Met that afternoon while waiting for night to fall so he could infiltrate the museum when the police had gone home. He and the master wanted to check for clues the investigation might have missed that Triple-A definitely wouldn’t.

“That’s a big hole,” Sam had noted when he’d first looked out at the Met from the rooftop of the building he was on. “There’s no way an accident caused this…”

He was referring to the large, gaping hole in the roof of the westernmost building of the Met’s Fifth Avenue facade.

“That’s where the Leon Levy and Shelby White Court gallery is,” he’d added.

Sam knew the name because he’d been dragged enough times to a Met Gala by Marie for him to recall a grand atrium of colored marble floors, white pillars, and the glass ceiling that brought in natural light into the spacious interior.

Looks like we’ve got an entrance, kid, the master had chimed in.

“Yeah,” he’d agreed.

Sam’s suspicions about the explosion only grew when he’d witnessed several gray SUVs arrive on the scene that late afternoon. Men and women wearing fedoras and dark gray suits spilled out of these SUVs and were ushered into the Met by the police like they were extremely important people.

“The Wardens are here,” he’d reported.

Yeah…you know what that means? the master had prompted.

“This is a gifted incident,” Sam had answered as he slid further down the roof’s railing for cover. “Looks like our hunch was on the nose, master…”

It was nearly midnight by the time the Wardens, the police, the media, and the civilian gawkers eventually called it a night, and the infiltration could finally begin.

The suit looks good on you, kid, the master’s disembodied voice commented into Sam’s ear.

Sam glanced down at his new form-fitting dark blue suit, the shiny bronze plating on the chest, and the brand new bracers wrapped around his wrists.

“It’s a little tight,” he replied. “Wish I had more time to learn how to use these things.”

You’ll need to break it in and learn as you go, kid, the master said in his raspy voice. And tonight presents the perfect chance to do so.

Triple-A must have agreed with him too because a new notification popped up in front of Sam.

NEW MISSION: OUT OF THE FRYING PAN AND INTO THE FIRE! CONDITION: Investigate the circumstances that caused the explosion at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and uncover the connection between this fire and the previous night’s fire at Astoria Garden Apartments. REWARDS: To be determined depending on whether a follow-up mission will be necessary. WARNING: Failure to uncover evidence of foul play will abruptly stop any future missions in this investigation line.

“Hold on… this sounds like a chain quest,” Sam realized, referring to a gamer term for a group of quests that had to be completed in sequence. “You think I’m ready for this?”

Sometimes you’ve got to learn to run before you can walk, the master answered.

“That makes absolutely no sense...” Sam tapped on the air in front of him. “Better check my stats then… It’s looking to be another long night.”

NAME: Samuel Shepard HERO NAME: None LEVEL: 10 RANK: Zeta (ζ)

“I’m still a zeta, huh,” Sam said as he glanced down at his gloved hand and then wrapped it into a fist. “But I feel like I’m about to make a breakthrough…”

I’d say you’re about halfway there, the master chuckled into his ear. One or two more life-threatening situations should push you right past your current limits.

ROLE: Support TITLES:

[Phantom Slayer: [BOON: 20% increased damage against phantom-type enemies]]

[Fire-Fighter: [BOON: 10% increased resistance to fire damage]]

Sam’s eyes narrowed as his gaze fell on [Fire-Fighter]. “A little late, don’t you think?”

Do you think last night was the only fire you’ll ever have to wade into? Chiron asked.

Sam frowned. “Probably not…”

All of Sam’s attributes had increased by one again thanks to reaching level ten. Completing his daily mission before his trip to Mr. Moonday’s shop earned him a point to Willpower, too. And with his leftover points, last night’s mission reward, and his level-up bonus, Sam had ten points to distribute.

STRENGTH: 45 (41 + 1 + 1 + 2) DEXTERITY: 34 (31 + 1 + 1 + 1) CONSTITUTION: 60 (50 + 4 + 6) INTELLIGENCE: 20 WISDOM: 20 (19 + 1) WILLPOWER: 20 (17 + 2 + 1)

Obviously, he still put more points in Constitution than anywhere else, and that boost in stat increased his total HP to [600] while moving up his stamina to [300].

Prioritizing life force again, huh, the master noticed.

“Considering all my powers drain my life-force to use,” he reminded the master, “I’m actually second-guessing whether I should just drop all my points into Constitution every time…”

Then you’d be no more than a healer, kid, and that’s just wasted potential, the master chuckled. Not that I’m saying you have a lot of potential to waste…

“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed without comment on that last verbal jab. “It would keep me alive longer though…”

Sam was surprised to find that his gear’s abilities had shown up underneath his passive powers list, and once more, he was impressed with how intuitive Triple-A was.

EQUIPMENT:

Shock Absorption (Δ)

Tear Resistance (Δ)

“Now, if only there was a simpler way to raise my actual powers to delta-level,” Sam said after a brief glance at his equipment’s power stat.

Don’t wish for the easy method, kid, the master scolded him. Just keep doing what you’re doing… little by little, these baby steps will pave the way to genuine progress.

Sometimes the master said things that genuinely impressed Sam. “Yeah, I know.”

As soon as he was ready, Sam made his way for the roof’s entrance — and that’s when the master stopped him.

What kind of self-respecting hero would cross a street that’s lit up like a Christmas tree when you’ve got a gas-powered grappling hook launcher at your disposal? the master asked in an incredulous tone.

“Fifth Avenue is a hundred feet wide!” Sam protested. “My grappling hook can’t reach that far…”

You’ll make it if you launch yourself off the roof first, the master deduced.

Sam sent wary eyes toward the roof's edge. “You want me to jump off the roof… seriously?”

Forget what I said about running… sometimes you’ve got to learn to jump before you learn to run or walk, the master insisted.

Sam frowned. “Your lessons are going to be the death of me.”

He shuffled back to the edge of the roof and looked over to the other side of the wide avenue where the front of the Met was lit up by the emergency lights the police had left there. The few policemen who remained to guard the Met were huddled by the museum’s main entrance and were busy keeping each other warm from the chilly night air of mid-fall.

“Guess the roof option really is the best way in,” Sam admitted.

Don’t forget to take a running start, the master added. And you might want to use Herculean for this…

Sam had already taken several steps back even before the master issued his reminder because Sam knew that his newfound athleticism wouldn’t be enough to make that fifty-foot jump. Drastic measures were needed here.

“Control the power… and don’t break your legs,” he reminded himself.

Then, after taking a deep breath, Sam began running toward the edge of the roof. And it wasn’t until he was about to step off it when he activated, “Herculean!”

[Herculean (ζ)] is now active. Based on probability and threat assessment calculations, your current Strength is temporarily doubled. [STRENGTH: 90]

The familiar pain of a thousand volts of electricity suddenly surging through his veins caused Sam to wince.

“Control the power,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t break your legs!”

Sam stepped onto the roof’s railing and then pushed off it — and he went up, up, and away.

A bit of pain exploded into his toes and up to his knees, but Sam had succeeded in not breaking his legs this time around.

“Holy Zeus…” he said while a powerful gust of wind buffeted his face. “This is amazing!”

You’re supposed to be in stealth mode! the master reminded him.

Sam must have nearly been a hundred feet in the air before gravity began reeling him back down. Surprisingly, he’d covered more than the fifty feet distance he needed to bridge, and if his current trajectory held then Sam would crash right in front of the Met’s front steps.

Kid! the master yelled.

“I know, I know!” Sam replied quickly.

He raised his right hand forward and made a fist. Then, just like Mr. Moonday had instructed, Sam cocked his arm back and then forward. This fist-reloading gesture was the motion trigger for the gas-propelled grappling hook to launch from his bracer.

There was an audible bursting sound that accompanied the hook as it shot forward. It traveled quickly through the air—and failed to hit anything. The hook soared harmlessly past any hard surface on the roof before its momentum caused it to clatter lamely on the stone tiles.

"Oh no..." Sam gasped.

As gravity dragged him down, Sam couldn't believe he'd made such a rookie mistake. It might even be a fatal one too.