Ch-19: Fortunes of War: Foundations and Frontlines
As the night air filled with the chirping of insects, Ethan sat on his queen-sized bed, his eyes fixed intently on the transparent blue screen in front of him. The soft glow of the screen cast a faint blue light on his dark, skeletal face.
"[{Initiate Dungeon Delve} - Wait 356 days to refresh]," the screen read.
Ethan felt like the screen was taunting him with its slow countdown and his fingers drummed impatiently on the bedspread.
"I can't just sit around and wait a year to start grinding. I need to level up, and fast. Especially my Charisma - I can't convince anyone of anything with a score that low." Ethan muttered under his breath.
He sighed, glancing around his dimly lit room. 'Alfred's got the finances and connections covered, so I don't have anything to do other than train, and I've already done all I could with my skills. But my mana is still the limiting factor.'
His mind raced, seeking alternatives. 'I need to find a way to level up without the dungeons or the monsters… Guess I'll have to find the monsters hidden among humans then.'
At that thought, his mind went to Red Skull and the Nazis, along with their multiple concentration camps about which he had read in his history classes. The horrors of those camps were etched in his memory, although they did nothing like awakening pity within him. But they did remind him of a wonderful chance.
'If I remember correctly, and if there are mutants in this universe, then maybe I can find him there,' Ethan mused, his eyes narrowing with calculated determination.
Ethan's gaze drifted to the array of weapons spread out on his bed—swords, throwing knives, axes, bows and arrows, and guns. He had ordered them a few days ago through Alfred, who had made sure they were the best money could buy.
"If I have to join the war, I can't just fight with melee weapons," he muttered, picking up the sleek, black M1911A1 Colt. 'Although the slimes are quite versatile, having multiple weapons feels better and more reliable. And you can never be too careful, especially in a war.'
The gun, although very familiar due to the video games he had played, felt foreign in his hands, as he had never used a gun before in either of his lives. He examined it closely, noting its weight and balance.
'I'll learn to use these in tandem with my skills,' Ethan thought, as he twirled the pistol with ease, his excellent dexterity making the action look effortless.
Ethan then thought about the man who had been working day and night since being summoned. Alfred, with his years of experience as a SAS and MI5 operative, would be the perfect teacher. 'Once he is free, maybe Alfred can teach me about guns, and the rest... well, I'll figure it out myself.'
Ethan lay back on his bed, feeling his bones sink into the godly coziness of the Simmons Beautyrest mattress. The plush surface cradled his body, offering a rare moment of comfort amidst the race to become stronger.
Now, he just had to wait until Alfred was a little free. Until then…well, even the dead need rest.
.
.
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[Alfred's POV]
[The Next Morning]
Alfred Pennyworth adjusted the collar of his crisp white shirt, smoothing out the lapels of his dark, tailored suit. The sleek, formal attire was completed with a perfectly knotted silk tie and polished black Oxfords. He glanced at himself in the mirror, making sure every detail was in place before heading out.
He paused at Ethan's door, knocking gently before entering. The sight before him still took some getting used to—a skeleton lounging on a soft mattress. Despite the surreal image, Alfred had grown accustomed to the oddities of his new life.
"Good morning, Master Ethan," Alfred greeted.
Ethan's skeletal head turned slightly, his jaws parted and a human-like voice emerged. "Morning, Alfred. We need to discuss something once you're free."
Alfred nodded, though he couldn't help but feel a pang of pity every time he saw Ethan in this state. He remembered the vibrant Howard Stark and then looked at his master, who would never know the simple joy of holding a woman's hand.
"Very well, sir," Alfred replied. "I shall be back later this afternoon."
As he walked out of the room, he sighed, thinking about the cruel twists of fate. His master, a brilliant mind trapped in a skeletal body, was deprived of the simple joys of human interaction. Shaking off the melancholy, Alfred focused on the task at hand.
He made his way to the garage and got into the Lincoln Continental. The sleek black car roared to life, and Alfred guided it out of the driveway, heading towards Manhattan from Westchester County.
During the drive, Alfred's mind wandered to the investment firm they were planning to open. He and Ethan had discussed it in detail, finally settling on the name "Blackrock" It had a ring of prestige and reliability, essential qualities for attracting high-profile clients.
The drive into the heart of New York City was familiar yet it was impressive as always. The bustling streets, the towering buildings, and the energy of the city invigorated Alfred. He navigated through the traffic with ease, eventually arriving at his first destination: the New York State Department of State office.
Alfred stepped into the grand, marble-floored lobby of the New York State Department of State office. He approached the reception desk, where a woman in a sharp, navy suit greeted him with a professional smile.
"Good morning. How may I assist you?" she asked.
"Good morning," Alfred replied smoothly. "I am here to file the necessary paperwork to establish an investment firm, Blackrock."
She nodded and handed him a clipboard with a stack of forms. "Please fill these out, and once completed, take them to Room 305 for processing."
Alfred found a nearby table and began filling out the forms with meticulous precision. The paperwork required details about the firm's structure, initial capital, and key personnel. He filled in his own name for everything, as Master Ethan didn't exist in the official papers—something Alfred thought they needed to rectify in the near future.
With the forms completed, Alfred made his way to Room 305. Inside, a bespectacled clerk looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed Alfred.
"Good morning," Alfred began, placing the forms on the desk. "I am here to file these documents for the establishment of an investment firm."
The clerk took the papers, flipping through them with practiced efficiency. "Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Pennyworth. We'll process these and notify you within a few days."
"Thank you," Alfred said, offering a polite nod. "We look forward to your confirmation."
Next, Alfred moved on to securing an office space. He had his eye on a building in the financial district, a prime location that would position them among the elite of New York's business community. The address he was considering was 120 Wall Street, a prestigious location known for its impressive architecture and proximity to other major financial institutions.
Alfred met with a real estate agent named Ms. Evelyn Carter, a sharp-eyed woman with a no-nonsense demeanor. She greeted him with a firm handshake as they stood in the lobby of the building.
"Mr. Pennyworth, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Evelyn Carter," she said, her voice crisp and professional.
"Likewise, Ms. Carter," Alfred replied with a polite nod. "I appreciate you taking the time to show me the property."
"Of course," she said, leading him towards the elevators. "120 Wall Street is one of the most sought-after addresses in the financial district. It offers both prestige and convenience."
As they rode the elevator to the 10th floor, Evelyn briefed Alfred on the building's amenities. "You'll have access to a modern security system, fast elevators, and a rooftop terrace that offers a stunning view of the city. The building also houses several prestigious law firms and financial institutions."
The elevator doors opened, revealing a spacious, sunlit office space with large windows overlooking the bustling streets below. Alfred walked around the office, taking in the layout and envisioning how it could be transformed into the headquarters for Blackrock.
"This space offers 5,000 square feet, which should be more than sufficient for your needs," Evelyn continued. "It's currently unfurnished, allowing you to customize it to your specifications."
Alfred nodded, pleased with what he saw. "This is exactly what I had in mind. What's the leasing process like?"
Evelyn handed him a folder with the necessary paperwork. "It's fairly straightforward. You'll need to sign a lease agreement, provide proof of your business registration, and submit a security deposit. We can arrange for the lease to start immediately if everything is in order."
"Thank you, Ms. Carter," Alfred said, taking the folder. "I'll review the documents and get back to you shortly."
After securing the potential office space, Alfred's next stop was the Bowery Savings Bank.
He walked into the grand, marble-floored lobby, the polished brass fixtures gleaming under the soft light. The bank had an air of old-world elegance, a stark contrast to the modern financial institutions springing up across the city.
He approached the teller, a middle-aged man with a kind smile. "Good afternoon. How can I assist you today?"
"Good afternoon," Alfred replied. "I'd like to speak with the branch manager regarding the establishment of a new investment firm account."
"Certainly, sir. Please have a seat. I'll notify the manager immediately."
A few moments later, Alfred was ushered into the office of Mr. Thomas Reynolds, the branch manager. Mr. Reynolds stood to greet him, extending a hand. "Mr. Pennyworth, welcome. How can we assist you today?"
"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds," Alfred said, shaking his hand. "I'm here to notify the bank that we are opening an investment firm by the name of Blackrock and to complete the necessary proceedings."
Mr. Reynolds gestured for Alfred to sit. "We're honored to have you choose Bowery Savings Bank for your business needs. Let's get started. We'll need to set up a business account for Blackrock and ensure all the legal and financial requirements are met."
Alfred handed over the necessary documents, including the business registration and initial capital deposit slip of $50,000.
Mr. Reynolds reviewed them carefully. "Everything appears to be in order. I'll just need your signature here," he said, sliding a form across the desk.
Alfred signed the document with his usual precision. "Excellent. Is there anything else I should be aware of?"
"We'll need to complete the process by setting up your account, which will take a few days. In the meantime, you'll receive a temporary account number. Your official account details will be mailed to you once the setup is complete."
"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds," Alfred said, standing to leave. "I appreciate your assistance."
"Not at all, Mr. Pennyworth. We look forward to serving your investment firm. If you have any further questions or need additional services, please don't hesitate to reach out."
By mid-afternoon, Alfred had completed the necessary steps. He got back into the Lincoln Continental, feeling a sense of accomplishment. As he drove back to Westchester, the city's hustle gradually gave way to the serene, tree-lined streets, his thoughts returning to Ethan. The tasks of the day had been taxing, but knowing he was making progress for his master gave him a quiet satisfaction.
Pulling up to the house, Alfred parked the car and made his way inside, the familiar weight of duty settling back on his shoulders. He found Ethan still in his room, a sense of purpose evident in his skeletal form despite the lack of flesh and expression.
"I'm back, sir," Alfred announced, his voice carrying the calm assurance of someone who had seen and done much in service. "What did you wish to discuss?"
Ethan sat up, his eye sockets fixed on Alfred. "I've been thinking about our next steps. If I'm to join the war effort, I need to be better equipped. I'll need you to teach me how to use some of the weapons I've acquired."
Alfred considered this, his brow furrowing slightly. "Master Ethan, joining the war is a commendable thought, but I must remind you of the potential dangers. War is unpredictable and merciless. Have you weighed the risks?"
Ethan nodded, a resolute determination in his stance. "I have, Alfred. But I can't stand idly by while atrocities are committed. I have to do something, especially if it means liberating those suffering in concentration camps."
A flicker of concern crossed Alfred's face, though he quickly masked it with his usual composed demeanor. "Liberating the victims is a noble cause, indeed. But I must point out the significance of your presence here. Your strategic mind and abilities are crucial in our current operations."
Ethan's skeletal features softened, his determination unwavering. "I appreciate your concern, Alfred. But this is something I feel compelled to do. I can't let innocent lives be extinguished if I have the power to help."
Alfred sighed, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "Very well, Master Ethan. If this is your decision, then I shall support it to the best of my ability. I can train you in the use of firearms and other weapons. However, might I suggest a more covert approach? A skeleton on the battlefield might draw unwanted attention."
Ethan chuckled, a dry sound echoing in the room. "Indeed, Alfred. Subtlety is key and I have grand plans on how to be subtle."
Alfred's gaze was steady, "And what of the training? There is much to cover, and time is of the essence."
Ethan nodded, his skeletal frame exuding a sense of readiness. "We'll start with the basics. I need to be proficient with both modern and improvised weaponry. And there's also the matter of physical conditioning—well, as much as a skeleton can be conditioned."
Alfred allowed a small smile, a rare moment of warmth breaking through his usual stoic demeanor. "Of course, Master Ethan. We shall begin immediately. I'll prepare the necessary equipment."
Ethan acknowledged Alfred's wisdom with a nod. "Thank you, Alfred. Your support means more than you know. But for now, we focus on preparation."
Alfred bowed slightly, understanding the urgency in Ethan's voice. "As you wish, Master Ethan. Let us waste no time."
Right now, Alfred had a newfound respect for his Master. He knew that Master Ethan was powerful, way beyond the measures of any human. Still, the decision to join the war and his wish to liberate the victims of those accursed camps had shown that even in his monstrous form, his human heart was still present.
Alfred himself had seen the horrors of war and he didn't wish it inflicted upon any other, whether a soldier or a victim. The screams, the blood, the senseless loss—it all haunted him still. But he couldn't stop Master Ethan. In his position, he himself would have jumped in to save as many as he could.
Sighing, Alfred focused on the task ahead, to train Master Ethan to the best of his abilities. Right now, his imparted skills would be the support that Master needed, more than his presence on the battlefield…
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Words: 2600
A/N: if you noticed Alfred's growing affection or whatever you wanna call it towards Ethan and thought, "How? This mf (Ethan) got no charisma."
Then I don't fault you for not connecting it with an info given long ago, "The stats influence each other."
Ethan's Luck is holding up his charisma and Alfred not being able to read his thoughts via body language or facial twitches helps immensely in creating a different persona of Ethan in Alfred's mind.
And you can see that with the POV changes when Ethan thinks of the war, he doesn't care about the victims, just thinks about the opportunities.
While Alfred does care about them and thinks Ethan does too, and is willing to risk his life to save em. And Ethan words his thoughts that compliments Alfred's way of thinking, because he knows that Alfred is a good person and he is trying to manipulate him into staying loyal and friendly.
Aight VOTE.
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