Unchosen Champion

Coop found himself in the unusual position of negotiating with an alligator, and it wasn’t even the first time. The two didn’t exactly have a standard meeting of the minds, given their inability to directly communicate, but Coop did his best on behalf of both of them.

Rather than a negotiation that included a give and take with regard to different conditions as they came to an agreement, it was more of an offer for them to decide if the compromise was acceptable. Coop tried to fill two sides of the mediation as he came to the conclusion that the alliance option was only available when each side was amenable.

He found it interesting that almost every Infestation that he encountered had been open to the possibility of a relatively peaceful resolution. Only the Primal Constructs had forced the elimination option without any potential for negotiation, as far as Coop had experienced. Of course, all of the Undead Chosen, from the Zombie Lord to the Lich would have used an alliance as an opportunity to establish themselves in the role of a superior. It didn’t seem like an active posture, but rather the system dictating the relative stations of the two parties. This was the same logic between forced membership of factions and why the alien contracted residents sought to accumulate their own power to escape.

When Coop was a factionless nobody, the factions took priority and would have painted Ghost Reef in their colors. Now, the roles were essentially reversed. He wondered what would have happened if, instead of the Champion of a settlement, one of his companions was the one who reached the boss of an Infestation. What kind of deal would they be offered? He doubted it would have ever been favorable. In fact, he suspected they would have simply been absorbed by the Infestation if they chose to align with it. Now that they were representing a faction, they would certainly be in a better position as defined by the system.

Naturally, Coop rejected the elimination option of the quest and concentrated on establishing an alliance. Thankfully, the Infestation quests provided more details than most other system messages so he could gauge what they were getting themselves into before committing one way or the other. He read the result carefully, considering each perspective as much as he could while keeping in mind that he also had the liberty of simply leaving the quest incomplete.

Establishing an alliance would bolster the strength of Ghost Reef with the minions of the Swamp Lord, transforming them into the same level of unit as the phantoms while also forcing an evolution upon Dorothy that would effectively turn the lead alligator into the equivalent of Guard Captain Alaric; a manifestation of the core settlement. Coop would have walked away from the deal if he was the one being forced into an evolution, but the alligator didn’t have any particular negative reaction when he explained his perspective. Dorothy seemed content to retain her status as the Swamp Lord, even if it meant letting the system dictate her specific standing.

She evidently recognized Coop as someone worthy of respect, and he hadn’t even needed to get into a fight. If only humans were such excellent judges of character.

Knowing a little more about factions gave Coop additional thoughts on what such an arrangement would mean for them. As far as the Lighthouse was concerned, it meant that the alligators and the Swamp Lord herself would be possible manifestations in the event that they became a planetary sponsor. Aside from pirate phantoms and ethereal soldiers, they would have amphibious beasts, and albino alligator raid bosses alongside haunted armors, ghost admirals, and spectral generals. It also meant that they had more units available for the interfaction conflicts if it ever came to that.

Unlike the previous deals at the end of Infestations, Coop didn’t see any real downsides involving a forced change on his current residents. Most of the costs would be applied to the Swamp Lord and her minions, but there was one condition that he had to take note of. The Swamp Lord would be granted something like an independent kingdom within their territory.

After they formed the Alliance, the Infestation territory would become the same kind of territory as that of Ghost Reef’s mana pylons. Coop thought it was undeniably a good thing, especially given how effective the alligators had been in claiming the Everglades. The vast untamed lands between Empress City and Neptune’s Bridge could be claimed by the Swamp Lord and her minions in the name of Ghost Reef. It would add a significant chunk of land that the forces of mana would need to contend with during the Eradication Protocol, while simultaneously preventing the Primal Constructs from setting up their own shop on the Florida mainland. This was the kind of arrangement that the Underlayer Event was designed to counter, but Coop had no intention of ceding anything to the invaders.

Coop accepted the Alliance, and a few moments later, Dorothy did the same. It took several more seconds before a gentle pulse of energy cascaded across the swamps, spreading from the nearest mana pylon as the two territories became one. Coop patted Dorothy on the head in lieu of a handshake, feeling like it made the agreement official. She hissed in a non-threatening manner.

“I look forward to working with you.” Coop added, easily treating the albino alligator like a person, given how much practice he had interacting with other animals. She just eyed him with her pink eyes before returning to her pool.

Coop headed over to the entrance of the so-called silo, letting his curiosity lead him to follow Bobby Jon’s path into the darkness. He still had a few questions regarding the state of the Everglades, and he hoped the alligator wrestler would have answers.

Coop followed the stairs down several floors into what was clearly an enormously robust construction that had been dug deep into the limestone beneath the swamps. Thick concrete walls were dimly illuminated by the light bouncing down from the blast doors on the surface. When the rough surfaces finally gave way to an expansive opening, Coop paused to look around, surprised by the size of the installation.

He had walked through what seemed to be a secret entrance to some kind of underground military facility. When Bobby Jon said it was the silo, Coop had automatically assumed it had something to do with farming, like a grain silo. The alligator wrestler had actually meant missile silo.

“What the heck is this?” Coop mumbled to himself as he stared into the center, where an empty cylindrical chamber sank even deeper into the darkness.

“Bravo-6.” Bobby Jon announced from one of several siderooms where shelves of canned goods were being stored. “Old missile silo from Cold War times. Built to withstand a nuke and retaliate with some kind of ICBM. Got it for real cheap in an auction.” He explained with a chuckle as he came out of the supply room. “Don’t look down.” He added as Coop wandered closer.

Coop looked down. As soon as he leaned over the railing to see the bottom he understood the warning. He stared into a dark abyss that sank far into the Earth. He quickly leaned away, taken aback by the incredible space created for the missile. It must have been absolutely enormous.

Before Coop could ask what the heck kind of missile was meant to be there to require such ridiculous depth, Bobby Jon explained, passing a beer before popping his own open. “It weren’t always that deep. Seems like the bottom fell out.” He took a noisy sip. “Got no idea how far it goes.”

Coop raised his eyebrows, before he started nodding to himself. “The Underlayer probably.” He took his own sip, and confirmed what he already knew. Cheap warm beer was nasty.

“The what?” Bobby Jon asked, giving Coop a suspicious look, like he was worried his visitor might be just a little nuts.

“Do you know about mana?” Coop asked carefully, like he was making first contact with the blissfully ignorant.

“The what now?” Bobby Jon responded and Coop just sighed.

“I guess I’ll try to start at the beginning.” Coop muttered, but before he began Bobby Jon interrupted him.

“Can you walk and talk? I gotta do some tinkering around the farm before I pass out again.” He smirked at himself, self aware at least.

“Sure.” Coop agreed, following the man up the steps back toward the surface. “What farm?” He asked after he had a moment to think.

Coop spent several hours being put to work repairing fences, moving supplies, and cleaning up the alligator farm while he explained everything about the assimilation to Bobby Jon with Dorothy following them around. Coop was able to give both Bobby Jon and the officially christened Swamp Lord a full rundown on the threats that Ghost Reef, the Lighthouse, and ultimately all of humanity would be facing, from the Primal Constructs to the Icons of Mana.

In exchange, Bobby Jon shared what his experience had been like, which was basically a blur of fighting the flood of water, giving up on corralling the alligators, focusing on maintaining the facilities, and working his way through the massive supply of alcohol he had stocked up for emergencies. In typical Floridian fashion, his method of hurricane preparedness was making sure there was enough alcohol to keep the hurricane party going until regular services were restored. It seemed like he had overstocked, and the party could go on for years.

The alligators basically did their own thing, leaving Bobby Jon be, though he did mention that they had been fighting the python invasion even before the assimilation began. Apparently, the snakes had official government sanctioned bounties on them and Bobby Jon was a designated hunter, back when human authorities still meant something. The alligators were now the ones who did all the hard work, but he figured he would still get credit for the skins. He tried offering them to Coop instead, once he realized there were no wildlife officials anymore, though that was a hard sell. Coop suggested he trade them with the burgeoning artisans in Empress City or Ghost Reef rather than hawking them off on him.

Bobby Jon wasn’t kidding when he declared there was work to be done around the farm. Coop had been fooled by the lackadaisical drunkenness. The island hadn’t been spared from the expansion of the Everglades so much as it had been bolstered against it. Coop joined Bobby Jon in digging small guidance canals to channel the water away from the edge of the island in the river of grass, following beneath the boardwalks around the perimeter and using the excess to establish flood protection.

Once Bobby Jon realized just how strong Coop was, he put the Champion to work doing all sorts of other tasks that had been delayed in the preceding months. He didn’t seem particularly disturbed by the alien invasion, claiming to have already known about aliens all along. Coop was subjected to a dozen stories about spotting them in the years before the assimilation. It took a while for Coop to convince him that these weren’t little green men, though he worried that there were some that looked like that out there in the galactic community that would make him seem like a liar.

Bobby Jon had just assumed he had slept through a particularly big hurricane and had been maintaining his property against the elements. The alcohol apparently helped explain the change in alligator behavior. He had never guessed it was the aliens finally making their move, but to him it made a bit too much sense.

Long after Coop had finished giving Bobby Jon the rundown of the assimilation, aliens, and how magic was real, Coop had volunteered himself into hauling a series of airboats further onto high ground from where they were secured to old trees with fraying ropes. Most of them were easy enough to find, wedged among the cypress trees near the island, but not all of them were accounted for.

Coop was venturing further away from the alligator farm, rescuing the airboats that had escaped from their eroding ropes months before. Bobby Jon was laughing while he drank beers with Dorothy at his side as he watched from the boardwalk, kicking his legs over the edge like a child. Coop was accomplishing impossible tasks as proof of what he had been explaining and a favor more to the Swamp Lord than to Bobby Jon, since he was expecting the alligators to take care of the untamed mainland, turning the peninsula of Florida into safe territory similar to Ghost Reef itself.

Coop was enjoying himself in classic fashion. Simple labor always gave him the chance to sort his mind out and he was always happy to set his allies up as much as he could, with both knowledge and material help. Pulling boats across the marsh was as worthy a distraction as anything else, bringing his thoughts back to simple tasks that had him flexing his strength instead of contemplating intergalactic politics.

Sweat was beading on Coop’s brow as he slogged through the cypress swamp, dragging escaped boats back to their home. He was developing an idea for the airboats. It was difficult to explain to Bobby Jon, but Coop imagined having Charlie power the giant fan and wondered if they could actually use them in that way. A sailboat wouldn’t really work in the Everglades thanks to the shallow waters, but a flat bottomed airboat might be even more effective in patrolling between the two Florida settlements. The boardwalk was a good start, but traversing off the beaten path remained a challenge that the airboats might solve.

Each step he took with the nearly one ton boats weighing him down was a battle against the sucking mud that threatened to swallow his feet whole. They had drifted far from their docks thanks to the months of neglect. While Bobby Jon tried to maintain the property, the alligators had their own priorities, so Coop was the first to attempt to retrieve them. It was a scavenger hunt around the marsh just for him.

The evening air was thick with the smells of swamp flowers, moss, and mud. The incessant drone of crickets hidden among the oaks around Bobby Jon’s alligator farm echoed across the water. Over Coop’s shoulder, the ropes strained against his skin, heavy from dragging the damaged airboats that had been caught in grasses further away in the murky shallows. The alligators had left him alone after the alliance was formed.

Coop paused, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his eye. The atmosphere was only broken by each of his sloshing steps and the distant laughter of the increasingly drunken Bobby Jon as he told Dorothy jokes that the alligator seemed to ignore.

An unsettling prickle crawled up Coop’s spine, the kind that comes from being watched. He glanced around, but the dense swamp foliage offered no clues of any spies. If there were alligators lurking, they were allies now, and presumably they would know it as well as he did. This section of the Everglades was now home territory, but he couldn’t rule out the presence of Primal Constructs. His heart beat just a little bit faster, and it wasn’t due to the satisfying physical exertion.

Coop ignored the feeling, attributing it to some unconscious nerves caused by wandering inside of a swamp, a place that he wasn’t necessarily adapted for. He continued with his task, but just as he tried to move on, a ripple disturbed the glassy surface of the black water ahead of him. The ripple was once again too large to be a fish, and he squinted, searching for what must have been a curious gator beneath the surface. Coop stood still, just in case, breath catching in his throat as he considered how to approach what might have been a case of mistaken identity.

His ethereal spear reappeared in his hand, and his gladiator armor manifested to protect his skin before the first ripple reached him. Slowly, like a shadow detaching itself from the darkness beneath the drooping branches of a leaning cypress, an elongated orange head emerged from the water, contrasting with the murky environment. While it was a reptile, it was apparent that it was no alligator, both in size and shape. It was a massive snake. Its thick body easily exceeded the width of Coop’s shoulders and its reptilian eyes were locked onto his, glowing with purple energy. Eye contact sent a jolt of instinctual terror right up his neck.

[Everglades Rat Snake (Level 216)]

[Hypnotic Constrictor (Mind)]

[Scalecommander of the Mandate of Scales]

[Ancient (Dishonorable)]

The abnormally large snake lunged with deceptive speed, its body moving with a powerful sinuous motion as it propelled itself through the water. Coop shifted the end of his spear from the side, long past the point of fumbling his own weapons when caught by surprise thanks to what must have approached millions of repetitions. The snake lunged at the same time, seeking to wrap around Coop’s body before the stun wore off, but Coop’s Agility far surpassed the Chosen animal, smashing it in the side of its head before it could complete its ambush.

The snake was dazed, splashing into the water, caught by surprise that its hypnotic ambush had been completely ineffective on the Champion of Ghost Reef. Coop’s magic defense was no joke, but he frowned at the result. Somehow, he had gone this long in the assimilation without killing any Chosen animals.

He hesitated before finishing the animal off, giving it a moment to recover that it didn’t ignore. The snake lurched itself awake and tried to retreat, but Coop dismissed his spear and grabbed it right behind the head, not so forgiving as to let it simply escape after attacking him. When its tail tried to whip around and wrap him up, he used his other arm to grab it part of the way down its body and lift it in the air, stealing away its ability to swim and preventing it from finding any leverage.

The rat snake was a pretty orange on top, but lifting it out of the water exposed the gradient of scales and its bright yellow belly. The snake kept struggling to constrict Coop, but it only managed to wrap its tail around his arm up to the elbow. Its eyes smoldered with purple mana as it desperately cast spells in an effort to free itself, but to no avail.

Coop abandoned the airboats that he had been dragging in favor of returning to the alligator farm with his prisoner. The snake wasn’t so large that it compared with the overgrown alligators or burmese pythons that evidently warred within the region, but it was still large enough that it could have made a meal of Coop if that’s what it was after. Coop suspected that it was more sophisticated than that, being both a Chosen and over level 200. It either saw Coop as a threat or an opportunity, and either way, it had struck first.

As he approached the alligator farm with the captured snake still struggling in his arms as he presented it to the sky, like a thick golden rope, Bobby Jon spotted him and stood up, pointing at him with one hand still gripping a beer can with the rest of his fingers and the other squeezing the boardwalk’s wooden railing.

“Hot damn! You found Buttercup?” Bobby Jon exclaimed. “Look how big she got!” He added with a laugh of disbelief.