CRich'myth*{_ Poke+Lore Privilege _}

Finally the gelatinous environment no longer even swayed. Warily, I cracked an eye, shaking a second or two longer before I realized I was on stable ground.

The Atmosphere was motionless & uniform. I almost kissed the wall of a predominantly white and silver arena, big enough to serve better than a Whale's Tank at the zoo. A Chunky set of stairs rose several stories over to my left (and I began to wonder how many wild stories this place indeed kept). In the peripheral vision of my other side, I noticed Gutt happily twisting his torso as if having a good stretch.

I squinted back over my shoulder at the three remaining crescents, blinking a few times. "In there," I gasped. I felt like I had retained a mere smell of a strange new delicacy, like I needed to recall something important and couldn't figure out what it was. "It's mesmerizing.... a supernatural drug."

"Natural, I think." He sent me a sidelong stare. "I don't make enough money to support it as a full-time habit, so don't get any ideas."

"Hmmph," I grunted, upset. "Were you just trying to scare me about getting stuck in there and crap?" He offered no reply, so I let it go & shifted my gaze from him -- upon which I was caused to marvel: "Where are we?"

That fat tower of stairs on our left connected to a long ledge. A single, armored door sat over it with authority, a jagged boulder on the peak of a mountain.

"This is a vault, within a Facility, within a vault, hundreds if not thousands of miles away from any hubbubs. Nobody is meant to infiltrate this place. But they can't tune for every little frequency." The Gutter tapped his forehead. "And since I've become a generic nobody for thirty some odd years, why should they remember me? I still have a couple connections on the radar, so I don't have to purchase like a peasant." No kidding. "Granted, I do have to come buy new rounds for Heschita every so often." He grinned. "They can't box me out when I come in for a Layup."

"Jeez, am I underprivileged."

He flung both arms out Proudly at lofty racks amassed with an Encyclopedic index of boxes. "Indeed, It's a weapon-handler's wet dream," he finished.

"Or a terrorist's," I breathed with a sour twist.

There wasn't a hair's breadth of oxygen between individual boxes. The ledge encompassed the entire room, while catwalks stretched touching here and there along it, allowing access to rows of scintillating boxes perching up to 4 stories high.

I rubbed the side of my face. "Christmas morning will never be the same," I murmured.

"Right as rain," he responded. "You see, there's plenty more magnificent specimens where that 150-year-old lump of wood in the basement, came from."

"A pricey lump of wood," I corrected. "That you bashed the bolts out of. These better be top of the line."

"It grieves me to tell you this, but I'm not much for antiques. They contain no salt of the Earth anymore," he explained.

"Then sprinkle me silly with samples of the future," I answered.

***

We crashed through box after labeled box, ravaging dozens of contents, Gutt on the ground floor, & myself absorbing the views from the second deck. Each weapon name was posted plainly on each box, and in another straight behind it, the type of ammo it required. To us, it wasn't stealing: if this was government property, they embezzled manufacturing secrets from countless hard-working citizens every day. And if it was extra-terrestrial, we needed it more than they did.

Pretty soon, I had things of folklore scattered around me. An M15 Friction multiplier, a Zeliska Staff, Steel Sneeze Fists, drum magazines deeper than an UZI, Lampguns & various lasers. Things the common hunter just couldn't lay hands on. "Hey Gutts, you didn't, by any chance, bring a sack to carry this Boat-load in?"

"Surprise, surprise," he said, uprooting a thick plastic fabric from his jeans. When he shook it out, the bag simply looked cavernous. I was impressed with his foresight, since I doubted he regularly brought in this amount of shipment at once.

"Is that a bottomless pocket you're wearing?" I joked.

He heaved a sigh with feigned sincerity. "My arse is fallin' out my parachute pants again, iddn't it?"At that we shared splits in our sides. Every time we caught sight of each other, it sparked to rekindling.

"Always have a "sack" handy!" Malibu roared and thrashed about.

"Yo Santy!" I bellowed. "You've got your stocking & Safety Harness -- but where're the reindeer?"

Through heaving coughs, he wrenched out his words: "Rudolph proposed they all stay at the North Pole; said he refuses to light the way for someone with bigger junk than him!"

"Paaahh...hee hee hee...HoHoHo!...HaaahaawwHaaaawwwwwwww..." we giggled from the floor, clutching at our cramps and wresting runaway tears for over a minute.

After we recovered, he began unpacking a slew of Rifles. "These are must haves: UZIs and AK's -- Fully Suppressed." Gutt pronounced, before dumping several in the bag.

"How classic," I regarded. "(Ass-hide from the silencers). But more highly desirous," I revealed, heaving over my shoulder, "is the M15 Multi-Barrel maXel-,"--only to have him stop me.

"Much too bulky. Let's make this trip efficient."

"Ohh right," I relented, downcast.

He produced a different item, oddly shaped like a French horn. "Peacemaker Chef."

"Wait," I imposed before he could slip it in the bag. "Why's the barrel open that wide like a trumpet?"

His nose ran along the barrel with a sniff of satisfaction. "Because it's a Voizpale model. Hyper-freezes a Path of energy."

"Holy Ice Ages, we're not trying to kill the Mafia," I breathed.

"Ohh, S'pose you're right," he bewailed. "It looks awfully serene for its actual function…" He balanced it back on a nearby shelf.

I sifted deeper through the supply heaped around our feet. "This one looks kind of generic; it's blue and some parts of it look plastic. A tall handgun called a TAR-20."

I handed it to Gutterson and he inspected it. "Hmmm," he remarked, "Not plastic, mollusk shell & maybe toadskin. These goopers double as pheromone Squeezers. Good pick; persuasion rather than intimidation could prove convenient." He showed me the x3x different settings it featured, and he added: "Don't go using it on the ladies now," before we looted a few.

Gutt moved briskly along, to rummage through more of the treasures I had gathered. "Hooo doggy." He rotated the Zeliska in his hands. "So you came by one of the Staff did ya?"

"No." I pretended to glance around seriously. "I didn't see anyone else come through here," I quipped.

Totally ignoring my wise-crack, he poked at me with the tail end of the purple Scepter head. "This is actually what they call a Scar-Spout. Has massive healing properties if used before the blood clots. Paradoxically, it has a ferocious Pop-out Fanblade. Wonderful weapon of surprise if you fancy being underestimated."

"Well that'll help Buck for sure, at the least!" I lit up & grabbed the wheat-colored Polearm, investigating the rivets in the wood for a while. "We gotta make it stretch." Together we maneuvered almost 2 meters of opal-implanted Stem against the mouth of elastic.

After that I looked over and hoisted a pair of the Steel Sneeze Mitts. Resembled some Iron man gear or something, but quite light-weight. I stuck my hands inside, catching onto a spongy horizontal bar. When i waved my arms, they fluctuated with the sway to a small degree. "No boxer would have a chance against anyone wearing these," I piped.

Gutts pursed his lips at me over an armful of Solar'Pump lasers & Fungusroad Collarbangs, which posed as various hats: "Definitely not with the voltage nodes that activate upon impact."

I ushered them into the bag without hesitation. "No way I can turn those bad boys down." Then I picked up the thick rubber sack, and bent it around the rest of Malibu's offering, like a set of snake jaws.

"Excellent, now we have plenty of offense," he huffed. "But defense is equally important." He walked over 3 paces and lightly kicked a box. "There's a certain armor called Reptilian Eggs. Sometimes Gator eggshells are substituted instead, but that's the cheapo shit you can actually find in certain street shops."

"Wait," I said. "Are you implying literal dragons?"

"Maybe not from classical folklore -- but dinosaurs and NephilRim such, absolutely."

"I'm loving this!" I responded, & hurried nearer.

"Go ahead and take a peek," encouraged Santa.

I stooped and lifted the box-flaps. There was a wide carton of eggs. Handwritten language was scrawled across the shells. "They're labeled without any paper," I observed.

He chuckled. "They are not all created equal: ability depends on the species."

Then before right before my peepers, all the glyphs flipped a switch right into the English tongue. Some displayed one ability, some had two. I saw *Fly*, *stealth*, *Acid reflex!*, *gillbreath*, +Le@p+, [FORTIFY], *stuB#link*, {Terror field}, ^He@t defe@ter^, D#windlow...Phission, -Miner@ Lancing-, ~Electri'flectwine~, & WhirlingDervish%... "Woah, Gutt! How did they manage to write in universal ink?!"

"Cosmic, son, Cosmic," he clarified. "I can't say what method a Factory might employ, but a a tried-n-true method is 'Kinesis techniques."

"Ooo, I wanna learn sometime."

"Outta luck with me, buddy. My superiors never entrusted my average rank with the outer Network of advanced organisms. All i know is Kinesis can't be 'learned" -- they refer to as Aura immersion. You have to be amplified by external source currents."

My body went quivering inside. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me Gutt!" I exploded.

He grinned ear to ear. "Hopefully after this youngblood, you will never view the elderly as disposable."

"Copy that," I stated, settling into a crouch. Most eggs would have to be lifted with two hands for proper grip. "So what the heck does the user do to acquire an ability?"

"It's kind of like a potion, or brew package. Underneath them are some grinders and Duration filters. Comparable to making coffee."

"Always the coffee fanatics," I remarked. "All it does is make me cough afterward. Hope i'm not as allergic to reptiles." I cupped my hands beneath one and lifted what felt around 5 kilograms (average for my capacity) but suddenly felt faint all over, accompanied by slurping sensations between my gloves and the shell. With the last of my strength I jerked my arms back in shock, and stumbled back into the observing Gutter. The center portion of each glove snapped off crudely, exposing part of my palms.

"Whoops, I forgot to warn ya. Side effects can come with a draining vertigo. But it's easier than trying to carry a bunch of mineral-plated armor or mechanical stuff outta here," he replied. "Since you have a big party with you, & then a second squad soon to arrive, I figure this is the most efficient way to distribute extra protection."

"I wouldn't call them Party-friendly, but most wise idea," I agreed. "Well, we can't load up what's trying to absorb us, so I guess the entire crate goes in, right?"

"Righto," he confirmed. "They won't break easy, but metal has the chance to do it. We should have put it in first so it'd stay more stationary."

"No problem," I said, and tilted the bag to tenderly dislodge all the weaponry in a line." He helped me get the box inside the fabric, and then we began to reload each of the former Termination items on top of the cube.

I rolled my eyes when i saw the Tuba-squeezer on the floor as the the heap cleared. "Heyyy, I asked you to leave out the Ice Chef so we don't risk any manslaughter."

He snatched it up. "The freezing thaws within a few minutes," justified Gutt. "Long as you don't hit someone in the eyes or throat they shouldn't have any permanent damage."

"Whatever," I relented. "You've tempted me now, I guess i'll have to trust ya."

The happy camper slid the last gadget among the assortments, as I summoned up a robotic, yet drawling accent: "Awl ite-tems tay'gged, and added to bay'ging Area. Time to pay da Pipe-Awe."

Malibu rested the contents on the ground with a groan. "Alright Arnold, alright. But before we fly this coop," he turned his back to size up his side of the mess, "We need to cover the last of our tracks."

So whilst we began to pick up shop debris, he engaged himself by (and made me endure) bursting into some kind of Ancient folk jingles:

"Clean up, Clean up

Everybody do their share

Clean up, Clean up

You made the mess, it's only fair

You and me, best of buds

Secret stash of all the Suds!

Treats unwrapped far from sight

Safe and sound from prying eyes."

A minute later, when I happened to look up across the room, I almost choked: items considered "unfit" for duty fumbling from my clutch, as if they were active bombs.

"Mallliboooo??" I quacked, my voice climbing on pins and needles. Every couple seconds, one of 3 remaining portals would tremble, jitter, or thrash. "Why are the Portals blinking!"