Some men had to stay awake and think about what they were doing while the night passed. Ted didn't.
It was simply no problem to him, knowing that people were currently bleeding out because of his actions, and in fact, the very thought made him sleep so soundly that Eknie had to shake him to make him wake up.
"It's been done," she said, smiling the sweetest smile of a murderous redhead.
Ted smiled right back at her.
"Really? Did you sleep at all, Eknie? Is everything all right?"
"I did sleep," the woman said and pulled a chair towards the coffee table. They were staying in an expensive place, but it was still somewhat downscaled from what Ted had originally intended.
"And things are more than all right. Here are the addresses of the widows. Well, this one might come after us, so I did your work and sent someone to take care of him."
"Really?" Ted raised an eyebrow. "Was the dead wretch a woman?"
"Yes, a she-mercenary, and apparently she had plenty of enemies. Some of which want to thank you in person. Honestly, I don't know how they even found us, but there are six people raising a toast for your sake and none of them can pronounce your name right."
"I knew it," Ted hissed. "How many times do I need to tell people…just call me Ted if the other option is so hard. Mother of worms."
This was a misunderstanding that had to be corrected immediately. Ted hated few things this much – brutal mispronouncing of his name could truly rile him up to a unique rage that was hard to stop once it had gained traction inside his head. Like one of those modern freight trains, the anger ran wild on the tracks of his perfectionism, hissing and clanking away.
He liked to pretend he had no control over such things.
The party that was going on in the dining area put his mind at ease, though. There were plenty of gentlemen and fine ladies of the sort that did not mind senseless murdering if it would benefit them. This became apparent from the answers Ted got when he asked about the businesses of these nice people – there were seven names that rung a bell, all of which were the companies that had been shedding a lot of blood in their endeavors. Yes, Ted was privy to this information. He knew everything he had to know in order to find allies. Not everyone pretended to be a saint, and this was a massive relief, to be reminded of such honesty, and Ted found himself downing gin before he had even touched his breakfast. He didn't want to end up like the branthen hag, so, rationally, he stuck to coffee after a single glass of the stronger stuff.
Madorn had also found company. He was engaging in a game of blind pull the rye, which was considered to be the intellectual of the rye game variety. His partner was a young finance genius who had climbed up to the top at twenty and five years.
The talk about the subtle differences in the theory of different rye games drifted in and out of Ted's consciousness while he settled on a fluffy cloud of sugary cubes and validation.
It was a whole lot of fun, starting the day off with the wealthy and the wise, but Ted had to be going. He had business matters to attend to – but after every official matter was taken care of, he went to look for a car. From this point onwards, he would not have any hitmen to keep him company. He had to buy Madorn a gun.
Madorn said he had received military training. He knew how to use a gun – he could aim, but he said he got out of troubles with his intellect.
Ted countered this by saying that intellect did not stop bullets.
Mad told him that neither did reflexes, yet both of those things could be enough to dodge a bullet.
Ted agreed that this was a satisfactory conclusion. Mad was the brainpower, Eknie and Ted would have to be the brawn during their trip to the capital of the Diamond Kingdom.
They went looking for a car.
Many vehicles looked tempting, but a purple one with brass embellishments and a lot of accelerating power was the most efficient of the steam monsters. The trunk could take everything the adventurers had to carry.
Ted put his foot on the gas pedal on the long road across the wastelands. The sun did not feel all that bothersome anymore, not here, or perhaps the divine torture master was merely pleased with Ted's achievements. In fact, the reddish light was quite pleasing to the eye as Ted drove further away from the sunset.
With a certain lightness inside him that he just couldn't place as being caused by any certain real factor in the outside world, he allowed his mind to wander to the cult and the absolute brutality he was going to unleash on their minds. He would not stop until everyone under him was reduced to a shell of a human being. He would ride to the end of the known world to achieve what he wanted.
Godhood, or ultimate power, whatever one called it, he wanted it. Ted was after the highest possible prize, not adventures, even though the steam puffing from the car excited him and he wrapped his arm tighter around Eknie's narrow shoulders every minute.
He drew in a deep breath. His protective gear – the goggles and the filter mask to keep flies out of his mouth – were pressing on his face. He wanted to find an inn, a place where they spoke at least two languages and served strawberry jam with eastern dinner scones. The map claimed that such a place was near. Ted took a turn to the north and grinned under his mask.
This had been a fun trip so far.