36. (Side story) Raising a Stronghold 3 - Labor Relations and Employee Benefits

The rest of Emma Edmond's first day as a villainous hench-person passed surprisingly quietly.

The immediate issue occupying her attention after Lord Ainz's visit was breakfast. She held Nora's hand while making her way back to the 'kitchen' area and claimed a bowl of porridge with a truly excessive amount of maple syrup and dried fruit stirred into it. Nora babbled excitedly about all the strange creatures she had seen in the past 24 hours. The young girl had such trust in "Mister Ainz's" help and protection that she talked about the mob of monsters as if it were one of those parades at theme parks with everyone dressed as cartoon characters.

This was also the first time Emma heard the whole story of Nora's rescue. The previous day had been a rush of dealing with whatever was happening at that moment, followed by falling into bed, once they had mattresses and a sleeping area, and a night of dreamless sleep. The details included a few surprises.

"...hole in my arm.."

They shot her. They shot her. If they're still out there...

"...and then Lord Ainz cut eeeverything in half and he just slid apart, like whoosh and then splat…"

Right. Never mind. I know it's way too late to try and preserve her innocence in a lot of ways, but I'm worried about how cheerfully she said that. I'm worried about how much I liked hearing it.

"...he didn't even know we were in Canada…"

Where is Lord Ainz from? Where are we right now?

"...made him into a Death Knight…"

Is that what they're called? A little on the nose, eh?

"...and after he put up the forcefield," Nora reached into the neck of her loose shirt and pulled out a pair of small white horns with red bands, the kind made from actual animal horns, "he gave me these and said to blow one if I was in trouble. But there wasn't any trouble." The little girl cradled the horns gently in her hands. "Do you think he wants them back?" she asked mournfully.

This is the first present that wasn't made from scraps and trash she's gotten in months. But they're, like, bone horns from the undead ultra-wizard. But they're something to keep her safe. I can't believe I'm saying this but-

Emma took her sister's hands in her own, closing Nora's fingers over the horns. "If he asks for them, then return them. But unless that happens, he trusted you with them." Drawing Nora into a hug, she continued, "So keep them safe and only use them if you need them to keep yourself safe."

After breakfast, per the instructions of the Egyptian-themed skeleton woman, Emma dug three boxes of pin-on name tags out of a pallet and distributed them to the rest of the… New recruits? Minions? Do we have job titles?

The rest of the day (as defined by the battery-powered clocks looted from the camp) was filled with more simple pleasures made into incredible luxuries by their long absence. The children played with improvised toys or games that required no toys. Most of the adults just sat around, slightly dazed and amazed that they could just sit and do nothing. True to the words of Nitocris, toilets and showers (blessedly hot showers with moisturizing soaps and shampoo looted from the guards) were up and operating before lunch. So was a sort of walk-in refrigerator that involved glowing blue crystals and held perishable food recovered from the camp. There was a surprising amount of it considering only the non-mutants at the camp had been eating it, but supply shipments to the camp had been infrequent.

Nitocris also made an announcement about laundry, revolving around tubs and drying racks that could be hauled into the shower area for access to hot water. She may have been directing the instructions specifically to Emma, but she came across as if she were addressing a section of the air near Emma rather than talking directly to any of the mutants.

Lunch was soup-from-cans and bread, followed by the amazing experience of an afternoon nap. By dinner time there was a griddle set up, a production line for tuna melts, and a bowl of formerly-frozen mixed vegetables simmered in something approximating butter.

Some lost their faith in the camp and some found refuge in it there, but a man saying grace and giving thanks to God for an undead supervillain wielding dark magic made for a rather awkward start to the evening meal.

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Emma's rocky fist struck the man's cheek and his head splashed. Pulped grey matter and fluids squirting from his suddenly-compressed skull sprayed across her own face and seeped into the cracks of her stony skin. She spat out a bit of something as she turned to strike the wall, drawing breath to tell Nora to run, only to see her sister lying in a spreading red pool, eyes empty and unblinking. After Ajax threw her down into her sister's blood she barely felt the following blows, staring into her sister's eyes, hearing a voice calling her name that would never speak again.

Wait, that is Nora calling...

Emma's eyes snapped open and locked onto Nora curled up on the mattress next to her. The little girl cried, "Emma," one more time in desperation before jolting awake under her sister's touch.

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So, that night the nightmares came. Not the ones walking around praising Lord Ainz, but the ones arising from long-running trauma and pain. Nightmares were nothing new to the former inmates, but sometimes it's when the crisis is over and a person can stop focusing on survival that the damage really becomes apparent. Also, one of the rules of the camp had been that making a fuss of any sort was one of the many ways to be a 'troublemaker'. Those who made trouble for the guards got trouble from the guards. This was why Emma had developed the ability to listen for her sister's voice even when asleep.

But the guards had all been dealt with by waking nightmares and so the sleeping ones were allowed greater freedom.

A bit before one in the morning, according to the clocks, saw Dr. Sean Garrison leading an assembly of bleary and jittery mutants through a group therapy session and some basic advice for dealing with trauma. With access to better grooming supplies, the doctor looked more like the minor television celebrity he used to be. However, like many others, he was worn and thin to the point that 'used to be' was certainly part of that label.

Despite that, he seemed to know what he was talking about, "...find something to do with your time. Something you enjoy, or at least something that takes your mind off of disturbing subjects…"

In the meantime, the monstrous construction crew, still barely visible in the shadows away from the lighted mutant living area, had finished their work and was cleaning up after themselves. The final result was a vast chamber of high ceilings supported by rows of round pillars with square tops and bases. The blue-haired fellow (Simeon-something) who had been singing about a whip and a way during the exodus from the camp insisted that it looked just like the Mines of Moria from the Peter Jackson movies. Nitocris sat at her desk, resolutely ignoring everything but her stacks of scrolls and papers and occasionally primping in an ornate hand mirror. Makeup being applied to a face that hardly had skin was a sight to behold, but one which many of the refugees chose to avoid.

Dr. Garrison's advice also covered the subject of nightmares. "For a one-time nightmare, if you can just move on then it may be better not to revisit it. But if it stays with you then talk about it with someone. If the same or similar nightmares keep happening, I recommend Image Rehearsal. Write down what happens in the dream including what you see, what you hear, smell, feel, think, and so on. Then re-envision the nightmare so that something happens before it gets horrible to give you a different outcome. Write down the new dream and rehearse it in your mind at points during the day and before you go to sleep."

As Nora nodded off in her lap, Emma watched over her and made plans to keep her sister occupied for the next day.

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The second day came and went much like the first. Physically, it was even more peaceful as there were no longer construction sounds. Nitocris posted a recommended menu for the next week, based on the confiscated supplies. Unfortunately, that would use up most of those supplies, leaving them with camp-kibble again unless more food was brought in.

Emma approached Nitocris for art supplies to occupy the children and some of the more anxious-looking adults. The undead overseer demonstrated absolute knowledge of the inventory, not only directing Emma to sets of colored markers and boxes of copy-machine paper but listing the color shade, brand name, and number available of each marker type. By day's end, bright enthusiastic scribbles adorned much of the camp. Some were even passably good artwork. On the other hand, some chose to draw the scenes that haunted them, expressing their pain, though those images were usually tucked away someplace private, or as private as could be managed under the circumstances. On yet another hand (which made sense in context given some of the creatures involved) even some of the happier moments of the last two days were rather disturbing when one re-examined exactly what happened and the creatures making it happen.

Mentally, the second day was more stressful than the first. All physical injuries, aches, and pains had been dealt with by the strange nurse (who was also a maid) Lupusregina. But, along with the events of the past catching up to people, there were also questions about the future. It was undoubtedly a more promising future than the Toolshed, but the sense of being an uncertain future rather than one of terrible certainty. Most of these thoughts kept cycling back to a few key points regarding working for a supervillain, the villain's horde of monsters, being totally dependent on the above, being in a lair with no way out other than by the villain's powers, and that they were all still helpless and collared like animals.

On the third day, that last point changed.

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Things began with the appearance of Lupusregina, quite literally. Emma was doing laundry the old-fashioned way, with a tub of water and using a hockey stick that had been some guard's keepsake to stir it around. Suddenly, a bronze-skinned redhead was in her personal space, peering into the tub. "Oooh. Cleaning up?" A golden gaze peered into Emma's brown eyes, with a leering grin beneath. "Did you people have a hot and messy night, hey?"

Emma could only respond with a few random vowel sounds as she tried to process both the unexpected interruption and the implications of that question. Lupusregina barreled through Emma's confusion. "Anyway, I need all of you to gather by Nito's desk. Chop chop!"

I know I was the first one to say I would serve Lord Ainz, but why come to me for this? I'm not a leader or anything. Dr. Garrison would be better at organizing things and I think Kara was an actual superhero.

Despite these misgivings, which certainly weren't any sort of mental grumbling as that would be ungrateful to Lord Ainz and the odd nurse who healed all of them, Emma made the rounds and herded everyone over to cluster around the mummy-woman's desk. Lupu was there, along with three other people. A year ago, Emma might have amended that observation with the phrase, "using a loose definition of 'people'," but months in the camps and days under the protection of Lord Ainz Ooal Gown had purged Emma of most of her tendencies towards judging others based on odd appearances.

The first, standing next to Lupusregina, was one of the blue-skinned, chain-wearing men, carrying what looked like a treasure chest out of a pirate movie. Behind them and looking over their heads was a tall, slender figure with pale veiny skin. He was dressed in a tight black leather apron, long gloves, and a featureless hood without any apparent openings. Trailing some distance behind was a man with long, bright red hair, wearing dark armor that covered his arms and shoulders but left the gray skin of his perfectly sculpted chest and abdomen on display. Emma wasn't sure if the horns were part of him, or of the mask covering his upper face, but the jagged-looking bat wings on his back suggested the horns were not a fashion accessory.

As the golden-eyed 'nurse' exhorted the mutants to gather, the blue chain-man set the chest down while the pale one in leather checked various pockets on his apron. The man with the horns caught up in a languid strut, flipping his long hair in a practiced manner. As he got closer, Emma saw that he had little tusks poking up at the corners of his mouth and six eyes surveying everything with a look of smoldering hunger. Somehow, despite that and his other inhuman features, he was still very handsome.

"O.K. Nurse Lupu here. Assisted today by Gorrable the Binder," she pointed at the man in the chain kilt and veil, who Emma could see had a web of scars across his chest and glared at everyone with unnerving, blank-yellow eyes. "Shiragiku Kinsenka," Lupu jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the hooded man, who waved bashfully. Now that she was closer, Emma could see little white and yellow flowers embroidered around the edges of his apron. "And our very special guest, da dada DA," Lupu mimicked a fanfare (poorly), "Evil Lord Greed! Hey!" The horned man bowed as if on a stage.

"And lastly, our not so special guest." She tapped the chest they had brought with them with the side of her foot. One of the chains hanging around the waist of 'Gorrable' lifted up like a tentacle and inserted its barbed tip into the lock on the chest. Two more hooked under the lid and heaved it open. Lupu reached in with her left hand and lifted out a man bound tightly with chains, wearing the tattered remains of a camp-supervisor uniform, no shoes, and a featureless hood like 'Shiragiku' wore.

"So, this is Prisoner Five." She waved the bound man around as if he weighed nothing at all, gesturing with her right hand like a model in a commercial showing off a product. "He used to be Corporal Something but all that matters now is Fiver here has been a naughty, naughty boy. Most of the other prisoners taken have come around to see what a privilege is it to be allowed to be helpful to Lord Ainz but this one," the chains jingled as she gave him a little shake, "has been trying to keep secrets and actually insulted the name of Ainz Ooal Gown. Of course, that didn't stop Shiry here," she nodded her head at the pale man in the apron, "from pulling all those secrets out of his brain anyway, but for being naughty, Little Boy Five here is now our practice dummy. Hey."

"As you can see," she said pointing to his neck, "Five has a collar, just like the ones you have on. Since he doesn't have any powers, it won't zap him for trying to use them but," the aproned figure next to her held up his left arm, displaying a device like an oversized wristwatch that most in the camp recognized, "it can be activated remotely." Lupusregina poked at the 'watch'. Many of the mutants flinched or cringed in response, but Prisoner Five was the only one to stiffen and jerk erratically. No sounds emerged from the hood, but the chains clanked and rang clearly. The maid-nurse's arm supporting him didn't budge despite the energetic struggles. She watched him with curiosity as the jerking continued for about four seconds before he sagged limply.

Watching intently, Lupusregina poked the control on her assistant's arm again. A smile slowly blossomed on her face as the spasmodic struggles played out again. And then she did it again, her grin growing even wider. 'Shiry', who was holding the remote up for her, leaned in as she was about to go for a fourth activation, putting the part of his hood that presumably had a mouth behind it next to the ear of the 'nurse'. She looked back out at the mutant crowd as if she had forgotten they were there.

"Sorry, got distracted there," she said as she bopped the side of her head with the knuckles of her free hand. "Anyway, Shiry here," she gestured again to the tall hooded man, "and his buddies have been hard at work finding out how to get the collars off and other stuff. What they found is that there's a bunch of different keys and a bunch of different electro-thingy-signals and," her speech took on a disgruntled sing-song cadence as she listed conditions, "you have to match the right key to the right signal and the right collar and bad things happen if you get it wrong and taking them all off that way would take foreeeeeveeeeer." She rolled her eyes in disgust as she drew out that last word.

"Fortunately, Lord Ainz in his infinite wisdom came up with a different solution." She held out her prisoner, who had been loosely flopping around in her grip since the demonstration of the collar's 'disciplinary' function and exclaimed, "Take it away, your Evil Lordship!"

The man introduced as Evil Lord Greed held up one hand and displayed both the palm and back of it with a flourish, much like a magician about to perform a trick. "So what's the magic word?" he asked his audience, then answered his own question with a shout of, "Gimme!" Emma's earlier comparison to a magician proved to be appropriate because the collar disappeared from around the prisoner's neck and was now unlocked and open, dangling from Lord Greed's hand.

"Nice, hey!" cheered the maid.

Most of the mutants had seen the results of a botched collar removal. The guards made it a point to show that sort of thing off. It could be a fast or slow way to go depending on the damage done to the brainstem but it always involved intense convulsions. Prisoner Five didn't twitch, or even look like he had been touched at all.

"Right. So we can take care of this real fast and easy if you all spread out," Lupu spread her arms wide, swinging Prisoner Five about, "so there's a couple of paces between you and everyone else, hey?"

Despite their changed circumstances, following orders quickly was a habit ingrained by the camps, and the crowd was soon spaced out as directed. The collar Lord Greed (is 'Evil' actually part of his title?) had claimed disappeared from his hand with a flick of his fingers as he dipped into a crouch. He took a moment to shake out his hands and then…

Emma didn't really see what happened this time either, although part of that may have been that she kept her eyes on Nora, two steps to her left. A dark-gray blur with a red streak rushed back and forth through the uneven ranks of mutants. Wind of its passing made the loose but comfortable clothing provided by Lord Ainz whip around their bodies. Emma did make out a chant of, "gimmegimmeMineMineGIMMEMineGimmeminegimme," as it passed. She didn't feel the collar leaving her neck, but she did see the hateful thing disappear from Nora's neck and felt the blowing wind on the skin of her own neck, for the first time in ever so long.

And then it was over. The wind died out and (Evil?) Lord Greed again stood next to Lupu, rows and layers of open collars draped over his arms.

"Whooooo," Lupu cheered, shaking Prisoner Five like a pom-pom. "Show him your gratitude, hey!" Emma clapped obediently and Nora quickly joined her. However, while a number of mutants were laughing or crying with joy, most were too caught up in their own relief to direct that emotion as directed. "No. Really, people," Lupu chided them. Then she began chanting, pumping her arms in alternating rhythm with each syllable, "E! Vil! Lord! Greed! E! Vil! Lord! Greed!" Prisoner Five was thrust into the air with each "Vil" and "Greed", his bare feet hitting the floor for the first round of "E" and "Lord" before he drew his knees up to his chest.

Emma was a bit alarmed to see Nora enthusiastically join in the chanting praise of the (yes really Evil) Lord Greed, but then dutifully joined in herself. I made my decision back at the camp, I'm not backing out now.

"Thank you, thank you," said Greed, taking a bow. Collars slid down his arms as his hands twirled and made them vanish. "I also accept gold and other valuables." He held up one hand, rubbing his thumb against the first two fingers.

Lupu paused in leading the cheer, though her arms kept pumping. "Sorry your Evil Lordship, they don't have any money."

Greed snapped his fingers and looked down in disappointment.

Emma carried on with the chant as more mutants joined in, but also heard a rhythmic clacking sound in time with the chanting. Looking to her left and bit behind the crowd, she identified the source of this sound and then executed a series of actions she had been considering and planning in her mind over the last two days in preparation for this occurrence.

Abandoning the chant and turning to face the source of the clacking, she went to one knee, much as she had done in the yard of the camp, bowing her head. For there, bringing his bony hands together in time with the chant was Lord Ainz Ooal Gown. At his side was a short woman with purple hair in braided buns, wearing a maid's uniform with long, wide sleeves concealing her hands. Sleeves that flapped in the air as she waved her arms in time with the chant.

Emma had found herself with a lot of free time in the last couple of days. She spent a lot of that deciding that if she was going to be an evil minion (and right now it sure looks like that's my career path) then she was going to be the best minion she could be. For Nora's sake. Step one was fixing in her mind that Lord Ainz was Lord Ainz. He seemed like an old-school sort of boss. Like, medieval, "My liege and my Lord," old-school.

Emma had also prepared a short speech for this occasion, about being honored by the Lord's presence and such. However, the speech wouldn't have been heard over the crowd, which was finally getting into the chant even if most still looked uncertain about the "Evil" part. Also, Emma wasn't sure she could actually get the words out due to shock and a bit of outrage.

You are kidding me! They're messing with us! I could handle him sneaking up on me with a big bug-man and how Lupu keeps popping in from nowhere. But this! That! That is…

Ever since Dr. Banner had his little accident, a certain nautical term had gained other connotations and a concrete standard for comparison. And by that standard…

That's a Hulk! And it's on fire!

Indeed, while Lord Ainz Ooal Gown was a very tall skeleton, the figure behind him dwarfed the 'Supreme One', looming up towards the ceiling high above. A colossal dark gray mass of muscle, claws, curving horns, tusks, reddish scaly plates of armor, and vast wings that were either on fire or made of fire. A long tail with another bloom of fire at the tip, lashing back and forth with the chant, added a final touch to the scene. A touch of what in this overwhelming vision, Emma wasn't sure about other than, of course, fire.

It didn't take long for others to notice her actions and look over in the direction of her genuflection. Some imitated her actions. Some froze on the spot with one arm or the other raised. Some slowly came to a stop. Nora was one of the few who kept going with the chant, though she turned to face Lord Ainz and threw in a few friendly waves with some of her arm thrusts.

Lord Ainz stopped clapping, clacking, or whatever the term for it should be and waved his hands in a way that might have been comforting or apologetic if he weren't a towering skeleton with glowing red eyes. "No, no, don't stop on my account. It's good to see everyone celebrating," he said. "And it was a performance worthy of some praise and applause. Although," he brought his hands together a couple more times, "I don't seem to be getting quite the right effect." Looking up at the mass of muscle and flame behind him he continued, "Wrath, if you would?"

The newly and appropriately identified Wrath (Is there an 'Evil Lord' in front of that?) raised his arms to the sides, demonstrating that as large as he was, his arms were proportionally longer and larger than that of a baseline human.

I think his arms are bigger than my whole body. I think one of his hands is bigger than Nora. His claws are bigger than my hands!

Palms with the approximate diameter of truck tires slammed together with stupendous force. The loose sleeves and ruffles worn by the nearby maid fluttered wildly in the displaced air, while a forcefield shimmered briefly around Lord Ainz. The noise and force of the clap were literally staggering, causing a number of mutants in attendance to stumble and fight to regain their balance. Emma somehow crossed the distance to Nora in time to support her without ever rising to her feet.

The second impact brought some mutants to their knees, pressing their own palms against their ears to shield them. A stack of canned vegetables collapsed with a ringing clatter. Nitocris rushed to her desk to snatch escaping papers from the air.

The third brought down three more stacks of supplies as cringing or crawling mutants began to retreat in the face of this display of power. Mr. Cell lost his footing and his upper body sort of spattered into a pile of translucent pink goo when he hit the floor. His legs remained intact and kicking though his feet poking out of his pants legs were also pink and see-through.

The fourth swing of those massive limbs halted as Lord Ainz raised a hand saying, "Thank you, I believe that is sufficient for the moment."

Wrath huffed in acknowledgment, lowering his arms. Ainz cupped his long, pointed chin in one hand, looking down at Cell as the fallen mutant pulled back into a translucent but approximately human shape. "Hoh? A slime-type? Interesting," he mused aloud.

Cell rolled back onto his feet with motions that might not be possible for someone with a skeleton, clutching at his throat. No, he was reaching through the front of his neck, pulling out a plastic disk with a few tubes hanging off it. "Heh. Heh, heh. Ha!" His gurgling laugh was at first bemused, and then defiant. He shook his fist, or at least the blob on the end of his arm engulfing the device, at the ceiling and shouted, "How you like that, you motherfuckers? Ha! Haha!"

"Hmm. Well done," said Ainz. He gestured to Cell and the thing he held while looking to Lupusregina. "I believe that brings us to the next part of this affair?"

"Yes, Lord Ainz!" Lupu turned Prisoner Five around, now holding him by the chains on his front and showing the recovering crowd his back. More specifically, the back of his neck in which a disk like the one Cell was holding was embedded. "You all still have one of these, except for Mr. Goopy there," she gave Cell a grin and a thumbs up. "Good boy."

Cell gave her a different digit in return. Her pose didn't change, but her eyes narrowed and might have glowed faintly. More teeth were in her grin than seemed natural. Her raised thumb switched from being a sign of approval to a marker lining up on a target without any shift in position. Cell dropped his hand and shuffled closer to Litterbug. Litterbug seemed to be distracted by the maid with the flappy sleeves, who was staring at him with a cute but vacant smile.

Lupu snapped back to her previous chipper demeanor and carried on, pointing to the accessory in Prisoner Five's neck. "These thingies make a better connection between collars and your brainstems. They also have tubes connected to your blood vessels, particularly the ones headed to your brains. They look for-" She cocked her head, looked up as if searching for a memory, the tip of her tongue poking from the side of her mouth for a moment. "Mutant Growth Hormone," she sounded out carefully. "They store hormone receptor blockers," more words sounded out carefully, "and inject them to suppress your powers though they don't work equally well on everyone."

She grinned in triumph at having gotten through that portion of her speech and carried on more naturally. "So along with finding all of that out, Shiry and his buddies," she patted the pale man in the hood and apron on the shoulder with her free hand, "took some spares we looted and have been practicing implanting them and removing them. So it was a good thing Fives here," she shook her prisoner again, "made himself available as a practice dummy."

Lupu used her left foot to kick up the lid of the chest Prisoner Five had been in so that it slammed closed. She then dropped her prisoner so that he fell across the lid, head down and the back of his neck showing as she planted her foot on his back to hold him in place. Thanks to the slit in the side of her dress, this also showed off a very shapely leg in a white stocking. "So now we shall demonstrate the procedure!" she announced with enthusiasm.

'Shiry' produced a small, gleaming blade from a pocket on his apron and leaned over the bound man, but froze. He seemed to be looking up over the crowd, though it was hard to tell with the hood. Emma, who had climbed back to her feet during all of this, followed the likely line of his gaze to Lord Ainz, holding up a hand. "I think we've made enough of a mess in here for one day," the skeleton said, gesturing to the supplies that had fallen over, some of which had rolled for some distance.

"Awww," said Lupu, "Shiry's been working so hard and was really looking forward to showing off." The hooded man did look dejected with his head bowed and shoulders drooping.

"And I appreciate all his hard work," Ainz said supportingly, "but we also shouldn't make more work for others than necessary. So this should wait for a more," he paused in consideration, "sanitary venue."

Lupu and the three others with her stood at attention. "Yes, Lord Ainz," she chirped before picking up Prisoner Five, kicking the chest open, folding him at the knees and waist, and stuffing him back inside before slamming the lid shut again. "I guess we're done then?" That last sentence started as a statement but turned into a question as she saw Dr. Garrison with his hand raised.

"Yes?" inquired Lord Ainz in his rolling baritone.

"Er. As someone loosely associated with the medical profession," Dr. Garrison started hesitantly, "I feel I must ask about the risks of this procedure." His confidence as a professional speaker grew more apparent as he went on. "Some of us have rather unique physiology or biology that might not react well to standard anesthetics."

Lupu and the hooded man cocked their heads in identical fashion. "An-ess-tha-tik?" Lupu sounded out uncertainly.

Ainz may not have had lungs in his exposed ribcage, but his sigh was heard by all. "Add that to the procedure," he instructed, pointing at the pair.

They snapped to attention again with a, "Yes, Lord Ainz," from Lupu.

"Are there any other risks to my new followers?" he asked.

"No, Lord Ainz." Lupu bumped the hooded man with her elbow in a friendly manner. "These guys can keep someone alive through aanyythiing." Lupu's smile when drawing out that last word again became something with too many teeth in it.

"Very well then," Lord Ainz said with an approving nod. He waved to the mutants while turning and walking away. "Good day to you all."

The purple-haired maid with the flappy sleeves, who had continued to stare at Litterbug through all this, wiped one of her sleeves beneath her chin as she turned to go with Ainz. Wrath picked his way delicately through the fallen supplies that had scattered in his direction, carefully placing his huge, clawed, dinosaur-like feet so as not to crush anything.

The mutants and Nitocris watched respectfully as Ainz and his retinue lined up, walked behind a pillar, and vanished. Nitocris then turned and addressed the crowd, or at least the general section of space occupied by the crowd, "A schedule for implant removal will be posted once the procedure is finalized." She directed her haughty gaze to the cans rolling around on the floor. "And clean this up." She then went back to ignoring everyone and sorting the papers that had blown from her desk.

Emma obediently gathered the cans and other items near her, pausing when she noticed Miss Killgrave bent over and giggling in a concerning manner. "Kara?" she asked.

"Oh. Ooohohoho. Oh boy." Kara Killgrave straightened up and took a deep breath. "Don't mind me, I'm just imagining a conversation for later." She widened her eyes in a look of clearly false innocence and began speaking to an imagined person. "Yes, James. I know he's an evil supervillain. On my third day on the job, I met his torture crew and evil staff. As in, the guys with the word 'Evil' right there in the job title. Heh. Hee heeeee. Oh, excuse me I need to go scream into a pillow for a while."

Kara briskly walked towards the women's sleeping area. Emma watched her go for a moment, shrugged, and went back to cleaning up the mess.

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By bedtime, more artwork had been added to the growing collection. Some focused on scenes of mutants celebrating. Some focused on their benefactors. The work that touched Emma the most was a detailed and carefully shaded pencil drawing of one of the collars hinged open, with nothing else in the background.

However, her favorites would always be the drawings Nora made. Her most recent masterpiece was a crooked representation of Lord Ainz with Wrath behind him, arms spread wide.

Nightmares returned that evening, for trauma is not something overcome with a single bit of advice or a single moment of happiness. But more than one sleeping mutant found aid in their dreams from bony hands adorned with jeweled rings or shelter beneath great wings of flame.

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AN:

I actually started writing Emma's story because I thought the whole arc from canon resulting in the goblin army was fascinating. Then Emma ended up becoming the inadvertent leader of a growing mutant force and community, which makes the initial goblin troop superfluous to her story. And then I realized that Emma wasn't there at the initial meeting when Ainz would have handed them out anyway.

Gorrable and the other 'blue chain men' appearing in this story are based on the Chain Devils of D&D and Pathfinder. They don't have an equivalent in official Overlord canon, but I thought the canon prison could use some jailers to help process and manage all the prisoners, and Overlord is very much based on D&D 3E / Pathfinder.

https://www.dndbeyond.com/monsters/chain-devil

Torturers are canon Overlord/Nazarick monsters. This particular one I have named after two flowers. The Shiragiku (white chrysanthemum) is associated with "truth". The Kinsenka (common marigold) is associated with "despair". The two together can be interpreted in many ways that fit a torturer.

https://overlordmaruyama.fandom.com/wiki/Torturer

I initially wrote out a long sequence of what was involved in getting past all the security in the collars, then I remembered that Thief-skills were part of the YGGDRASIL game and there's a guy named Evil Lord Greed on the staff. I am making up his abilities since he hasn't shown any in canon beyond summoning a demon army, but he's GREED.

https://overlordmaruyama.fandom.com/wiki/Thief

https://overlordmaruyama.fandom.com/wiki/Evil_Lord_Greed

And then there's Wrath

https://overlordmaruyama.fandom.com/wiki/Evil_Lord_Wrath

They've already been identified by other readers but also appearing in this chapter were:

Dr. Sean Garrison

http://www.marvunapp.com/Appendix7/garrison_sean.htm

Kara Killgrave

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Kara_Killgrave_(Earth-616)

Cell

http://www.marvunapp.com/Appendix/cellmrlk.htm

And Litterbug

http://www.marvunapp.com/Appendix/litterbugmorlockschi.htm

Some aspects of their history on Earth 323 are a little different, leading them all to end up at the Toolshed.