Monroe

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Nine. Tyranny.

Not for the first time, Bob considered that being blown up was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He'd never really lived, but instead had just endured, day after day, working towards some distant future where he could finally be happy. If he hadn't had Monroe, he might have snapped.

Sydney was beautiful, at least from the air. It was also surprisingly intact. He hadn't been able to spot any ruined buildings at all, which was more than a little odd. As a coastal city, it had to have experienced some of the highest level monsters, but you couldn't tell.

The airport was effectively empty, and they'd been met on the runway, and were now being escorted to customs by a young man named Bruce.

"I can't wait to level up," Bruce said as they walked through the terminal. "My Mum and Dad were dead set against it, said it was too dangerous, yeah? But they're coming around, slowly."

"What kind of path are you interested in?" Bob asked, wondering once again why the group had presented him as the face of the party. His immediate response had been to present Monroe, who had worked his magic as the most handsome kitty in the whole world and enraptured young Bruce, who was even now delivering a ruff rub as they walked.

"I wanted to be a doctor, before the System," Bruce replied. "I didn't get serious until the last two years of school, so I became a nurse, figuring the experience would be good, and I'd still get to help people. I was set to start classes a few months after the System arrived, but healing magic has sort of revolutionized the healthcare system, so I figure I'll be a healer."

"Jessica is a healer," Bob replied, pointing at her. "She could give you a few pointers."

Jessica flashed him a brief scowl as he threw her in front of the metaphorical bus, but switched to a smile as Bruce looked up at her. "You'll make friends quick as a healer," she told him. "It's a lot of responsibility, but I think it's worth it."

"What god do you worship?" Bruce asked. "I've heard that the only ones available here on Earth are Vi'Radia, Mor'Noctum, and Logos, but if you can get to that other universe, there are a ton of them."

"I wouldn't say I worship any god," Jessica replied. "I unlocked Divine magic by taking a Divine Blessing from Vi'Radia. I don't pray or anything."

"That's one of the things that bothers my folks the most." Bruce shook his head. "They're having a rough time wrapping their heads around the idea of multiple gods, and none of them Jesus, yeah?"

"We weren't involved after the integration, so we missed out on most of those issues, thankfully," Jessica said.

"Have you been back home at all since the System?" Bruce asked.

"Nope, my folks are going to go a bit ape," Jessica grinned.

Their conversation was halted as a middle-aged man in a uniform proclaiming him to be a member of the customs enforcement stepped out from behind a desk.

"Thank you for guiding them, Bruce. You can head back to work," he began. "My name is Oscar Wroski, I'm the senior customs officer on duty. I understand Ms. Wright is an Australian citizen?"

Bruce gave the group a little wave as he headed back the way they'd came, while Jessica offered her passport to officer Wroski.

"Right, you've been away for quite some time," Wroski said. "We've adapted to the System rather quickly. Please display your System Status for me."

"Excuse me?" Jessica asked indignantly. "That's private."

"You don't have to display it to everyone, you can focus on simply showing it to me," Wroski replied.

"It's bloody well private from you, too," Jessica retorted.

"Ms. Wright," Wroski began with a sigh, "your government has passed legislation enacting laws to protect the citizens of our country as we adjust to our new reality under the System. One of these laws is that any citizens who have advanced in level must register their status. This allows us to keep track of what skills people have, while ensuring that we don't have people with restricted skills running amuck."

"Bugger that," Jessica snapped. "I'm tier eight, and I'm a healer, which is all you need to know, cobber. And I only mention the healer bit because I'm willing to heal people if there was an accident."

"I'm afraid that this isn't optional, Ms. Wright." Wroski's voice was cold. "If you refuse to provide your information, you'll be placed under arrest and brought before the court." Half a dozen customs agents spilled out from the doorway behind him, moving to form a semicircle facing the group, their hands on their still holstered sidearms.

"Harv," Bob said quietly, "I think this has the potential to be one of those situations you shouldn't be involved in."

Harv nodded, and the arch of a portal rose in front of him.

"None of you are leaving unti-" Wroski bit off the last word as the portal disappeared, revealing a notable absence of Harv.

"That's the wrong tone to take with our friend Harv," Bob shook his head. "He doesn't react well to being insulted, assaulted, or imprisoned, and I'm afraid it looks like that's what is about to happen."

"Right, that's it," Wroski ground out, pushing a button on his radio. "I have eleven people who have refused to identify, and have aided an unidentified man with undocumented skills to pass through customs. He is presumably in the city now, grab stills from the video and broadcast it to all agencies."

"You lot are coming with me, we'll sort you out in holding," he said, reaching out and grabbing Jessica's arm. He pulled her, and she looked surprised as she staggered forward.

Wroski was about to pull her again, when he suddenly stopped as a low growling sound filled the terminal.

The officers turned slightly, and four of them drew their sidearms as they caught sight of Monroe behind Wroski, clearly poised to clamp his massive jaws down on the man's neck.

"That would be a singularly bad idea," Bob said softly. "Monroe knows that Jessica is one of my favorite people, and honestly, she's one of his." Bob smiled crookedly. "She sneaks him sides of beef and brushes him," he explained. "He doesn't like you putting your hands on her like that, and you know what? Neither do I."

The last was said loudly and harshly, a stark contrast to the rest of his speech, which had been gentle.

"That's interfering with an investigation," Wroski said. "You're only making things worse for yourself."

Bob shook his head and stepped forward to stand next to Jessica. Three pistols tracked him.

"Officer Wroski, I think you're laboring under a number of misapprehensions," Bob said, his voice gentle once more. "The first is that you can compel us to obey you through force. The second is that we would allow you to separate us from one another. The last is that you are the final authority in matters related to customs. I'm afraid I'm going to need you to contact your direct superior, or rather, the next person up the chain of command."

"The fourth is that Harv is in Sydney," Elli added with a grin. "He went back up to our spaceship that's currently in orbit over this city."

Bob nodded. "That too," he agreed. "So, please remove your hand from Jessica's arm, before Monroe and I remove it for you."

Wroski shook his head. "Fuck the lot of you, you can't intimidate us, I don't care what tier you are."

He began to jerk Jessica's arm again, but was interrupted by Monroe casually biting through his spine. And his windpipe. Really, most of his neck.

Shots rang out as the other six customs agents reacted.

Bob was going to wait patiently, knowing full well that it was unlikely they could hurt them, and they had both Erick and Jessica on hand if they somehow did.

He had not, however, accounted for Bailli.

Lightning arced through the room, leaping from each customs agent to the next, leaving them twitching on the floor.

"Assholes," Bailli muttered dismissively.

Jessica had already directed an Anima Blast toward Officer Wroski, who gasped as his neck rebuilt itself in an instant, spitting up blood. He tried to sit up, but found a massive paw on his chest as Monroe looked down at him, teeth still covered in blood.

"As I was saying," Bob continued. "You should contact the next person in your chain of command."

"So, if I'm understanding this correctly, they refused to show their status screens, and assaulted half a dozen customs agents?" Prime Minister Kiara Julwry asked.

"Well, to be fair, the only person who refused to show their status screen was Ms. Wright. She was the first person Officer Wroski interacted with, in keeping with the policy of getting Australians through the lines first, as it's normally quicker," Arnold Brubaker, the Minister for Immigration replied.

Arnold had, up until an hour ago, been having a pleasant morning. He had leveled up yesterday, reaching thirty-four, and today had supposed to have been a light day. He'd been working his way through his emails when a call had come through regarding an emergency at Sydney Internation Airport.

"They did assault the officers, one woman used lightning to incapacitate six of them, while Officer Wroski was nearly decapitated by an enormous teleporting cat. It does appear that Ms. Wright healed him," Arnold finished.

"Where are they now?" The Prime Minister asked.

"They're still there," Arnold replied, offering the Prime Minister his tablet, which displayed a live feed of the customs terminal.

The scene was bizzare. The group had setup a table and appeared to be enjoying lunch. The only customs officer remaining was Wroski, who was sat in a chair appropriate for his size, which made him appear to be a child seated at the adults table. A massive gray cat lay next to him, chewing on huge chunk of meat.

"Unbelievable," Prime Minister Julwry muttered.

"I spoke to Ms. Wright on my over, and she advised that the group has no intention of entering the country illegally. They are waiting for Ms. Wright's parent's and sister to arrive at the airport," Arnold offered.

"They assaulted seven customs agents," Prime Minister Julwry fumed. "They can't possibly expect that they will be allowed to simply leave."

"Prime Minister, they are all tier eight," Arnold began. "If it was one person at tier eight, we could likely handle them, although it would be extremely dangerous to do so if they were aware of our intentions. There are eleven of them, and they have no doubt been working together for some time. Quite frankly, Australia does not have the resources to defeat them."

"I want them gone," Prime Minister Julwry said firmly. "How quickly can we have paperwork drafted declaring them persona non grata?"

"Five minutes," Arnold replied. "It's a boilerplate form, really just filling in the date and the name."

"I want it presented to them in the next ten minutes," The Prime Minister ordered.

Arnold hesitated for a moment. "Madam Prime Minister, are you certain that's the best option? Mr. Whitman is a rather popular figure, not only in the States, but also here at home. Not to put too fine a point on it, but bungling this could make him the next Ned Kelly."

"We're not having a shootout with the man, we're telling him he's not welcome here if he's unwilling to follow our laws," Prime Minister Julwry replied.

"Yes Ma'am, and I agree, however delaying the paperwork for another half an hour to allow Ms. Wright's family to arrive would cast us in a clearer light, especially if we were to make it known that the delay was a deliberate act from this office. An act of kindness for a man who has done much for this world, but allowed himself to become drunk on his own power," Arnold suggested, choosing his words carefully.

He did not want a showdown between his government and a group of tier eight heros. He suspected Ms. Wright's family would be leaving with her, which meant the rest of them would go as well, neatly resolving the issue.

"We can't appear to be weak," Prime Minister Julwry said. "I want all of our tier sevens and as many of our tier sixes positioned to move in if necessary. A show of force, the stick to the carrot. Have them in position before the Wright family arrives, and make sure the media gets the talking points right on this one. They'll be looking to your office for an official statement."

Bob stood with the rest of the group as a middle aged man with salt and a pepper hair, and a similarly middle aged woman with blonde tresses hurried toward them, a young woman with jet black hair trailing behind them.

The ranks of the customs agents parted to allow them to pass, and they rushed to Jessica, embracing her in a four way hug.

Her father was the first to break as he stepped back and looked up at her. "You'll always be my baby girl, and I knew you had to grow up eventually, but did you have to go and grow that far up?"

"Ronald!" Jessica's mother scolded him as she slapped his shoulder. "You know better than to comment on a lady's size, let alone our daughter." She reached up and cupped Jessica's cheek. "You do know that most men prefer women who are shorter than they are," she faux whispered. "I can't imagine this had made dating any easier. I do want grandchildren, eventually."

"There's always Melony," Jessica replied with a grin, gesturing at her younger sister.

"Nope," Ronald shook his head firmly. "We're keeping this one chained up like a nun in a convent until she's thirty."

"Dad," Melony complained.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but we've seen what happens when a Wright gets released into the wild too early," he nodded toward Jessica.

"What exactly did you do that you can't come into the country? They wouldn't tell us," Jessica's mother asked.

"The bleedin' jackboots wanted me to show them my status screen," Jessica growled.

Both of her parents frowned. "That's one of the many reasons we haven't tried to level up," Ronald admitted. "We're kind of hoping people will come to their senses, but it's been almost two years."

"Well, we'd like you to come with us," Jessica smiled. "We're not a hundred percent sure where we will land, but I can guarantee you that you won't have to give your personal information out."

"We'd love to come with you, wouldn't we dear?" Jessica's mother beamed up at her daughter.

"Hold on a moment, Veronica," Ronald said. "It seems like she's speaking for a whole group of people we haven't met yet."

"Well, I'm sure they can always bring us back," Veronica replied. "Consider it a trial run."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Melony grumbled.

"No," Ronald and Veronica said in unison.