Adam Smasher, Level 1 Adventurer, Hestia Familia
There was no reason to trust the words of a completely new and untested recruit, so in the end it was decided that Potatogirl was going to follow him and Tatertits around. By 'it was decided' of course, he meant that he decided it and ignored the various complaints until they stopped happening.
She claimed to be 'level 2', a level of strength that Adam had little basis for except 'stronger than a baseline but weaker than a fullborg, probably'. After they were done shopping for the day, he'd spar with her to get a proper measure of her capabilities, and she'd be joining him on the next delve tomorrow. It would be after the meetings, during the last shift.
Potatogirl had an anal look on her face when he gave the outline of the schedule, but didn't try to argue. At least she was the kind of recruit that knew they didn't have any leverage with their new employers yet, jackasses strolling in and thinking they're hot shit were a dime a dozen annoyance in the merc business.
"Welcome to the Apollo Apparatuses, can we help you find anything?" A meatbag with long blond hair and dark blue eyes stood before them in front of the good sized furniture store. Dressed in one of those ye-old striped shirts and vests with the lacy collar and sleeves, the most notable features were the overly pointy ears and little insignia badge. One of the several workers mostly idling around.
"Six beds and accompanying bedding, six dressers, at least one table and ten chairs." Adam recited from memory as Tatertits was fumbling with the list she had stored away somewhere in her maid dress. She turned to him with an aggrieved expression.
"Adam, you need a bed too!"
"No." He replied flatly ignoring her puffed cheeks. "We only have two bedrooms and we're not putting a bed in the central chamber."
"Um. Mr. Smasher, are you not uncomfortable sleeping on the floor?" Halfbrat asked cautiously.
"No." The floor, unlike a bed, couldn't slow him down if he needed to respond to an ambush. It was the objectively superior option.
"Jiiii~" Tatertits verbalized with a pout and glare, causing him to send a baffled glare her way. What the fuck is that weebshit woman? Don't do that. She giggled briefly, before turning to the politely silent salesman to continue the conversation. "What he said, yes please. You take Guild notes here, right?"
Salesmeat nodded. "We do. You mentioned beds first, would you like to see our selection of bedroom furnishings first then?"
"Yes please!" Tatertits chirped, causing the Salesmeat to turn and start walking in a particular direction. Adam followed briefly, letting Halfbrat and Potatogirl go first. His job was mostly making sure they didn't spend too much money buying useless shit, and making sure nothing tried to fuck with them. His respectable stature and mean look has so far prevented any incident, and hopefully he wouldn't have to talk very much during this trip.
"The home is an older-period construction, with lots of limestone and tiled floor, you know?" Tatertits started explaining.
"A gothic or earlier design?" Salesmeat replied.
"Earlier, not quite old imperial but definitely post revival, columns and thin windows with semi-circle tops. It has a very classy but cool look right now, and I'm looking for something to bring more warmth in, you know?"
"Oh certainly, we have several types of feather available for bedding, and the frames… what color is the limestone?"
"A lighter gray, I'm thinking of a warm wood for the frames. Cherry or mahogany, but I'm not certain if dark or light is the way to go…"
"Hm… The stone is a lighter shade? A dark mahogany would provide a strong contrast, but the cherry would be less obtrusive. Have you considered other woods, such as maple and walnut?"
"Oh! You have walnut here!? I'd love to see what you have!"
"Certainly, we're approaching the bed frames now, just around this aisle."
Adam made a note to strongly suggest whatever was cheapest and get a move on. From his initial estimates, this was going to take up a significant portion of the day. He could be murdering things right now, he could be murdering things and not here, listening to Tatertits excitedly interrogate Halfbrat and Potatogirl about which shade of wood they preferred.
"Adam, what do you think!?"
"Use metal instead, it'll last longer." He answered promptly.
Tatertits huffed at him, putting her wrists on her hips, small blocks of wood in each hand. She glared for a few moments, before a sly look came over her face.
"You know… If we get done quickly enough, there should be enough time for a quick evening delve before dinner tonight. Shame I don't have enough help deciding what to pick out…" She trailed off, turning around and pretending to shrug, holding the pose.
Adam narrowed his eyes.
He knew she was playing him, however…
"...Bricks are a sandy shade, go with the lighter woods and save the vibrancy for carpets and banners. That will make them stand out more." He grumbled. Corporate images were important enough to maintain and emphasize. Arasaka did something similar, but from the opposite direction. Pitch black everywhere they could put it, bright white lights, bright red brand logos. Then wooden mats and folding walls to show off that they had wood when their competitors typically didn't.
"Oh! I hadn't even thought about that yet! Thank you Adam-kun!" Tatertits happily chirped, twirling in her little dress to smile at him, before handing the darker wood back to the amused-looking salesmeat.
Adam decisively ignored the glances from the Halfbrat and Potatogirl.
—
Unfortunately, his participation only accelerated the process so much, and by the time all their new furniture was ordered and on the list for delivery to their address, it was well past morning and into the middle of the day. The total cost for all their new furniture? Right about seventy thousand valis. That alone more or less dashed the plan to buy the lot outright today, instead something to be saved for after the next delve and payout, only a day or two away at most.
Slightly annoying, but of the mild, bearable kind. Like listening to meatbags ramble about topics he didn't care for. So while waiting for Tatertits to decide where to eat, he started a line of dialogue with the new recruit.
"Potatogirl, where's your luggage?" He rumbled out a reasonable question.
"P-potatogirl!?" Potatogirl sputtered out in reply, focusing on the accurate nickname he had given her instead of the actual question. She turned a mild glare at him and responded. "D-don't call me that! My name is Oriana!"
Idly, Adam considered backhanding her. Knowing that would get his employer all pissy at him, he instead offered a different nickname. "Spudspear."
"That isn't acceptable either!" She firmly rejected the title, crossing her arms in an 'x' pattern.
Adam made a note to get slightly more offensive with it as he went along. "Hashbrownhair."
"It's Oriana!"
"Stewslurper."
"O-oriana!"
"Tatertaster."
"I-how many of these do you have?!" Tatertaster's shoulders slumped and a look of despair began to creep up on the edges of her expression.
"I could do this all day." Adam helpfully rumbled.
"Can it at least not be potato-themed?"
"Poledancer."
"...I-that one sounds fine?" Poledancer responded, finally no longer arguing against the title he had graciously bestowed. Strange that she was fine with being called a whore but not fine with anything related to potatoes.
"Um… Is this a tradition from Abandon, Mister Adam?" Halfbrat asked, sitting on the bench and kicking her legs as they watched Tatertits interrogate a 'city guide' for places to eat.
"The nicknames?" Adam questioned, receiving a nod in reply as Poledancer had a look of realization. "Fuck if I know. I picked up it in my…" Adam paused before saying gang, and corrected the word again. "Bandit days."
"You're a bandit?!" Poledancer sounded mighty offended by that. He turned an annoyed glare towards her for the excessive noise, and continued.
"As a brat, yeah." Adam explained, raising his hand to about his waist to demonstrate the scale he was talking about. Poledancer blinked at that, before coughing into her fist and nodding, looking away.
"Ah, your parents were bandits then…?" She asked, brushing a lock behind one ear again and folding her arms.
"Fuck if I know. Pops bailed before I could remember and Mom stuck around long enough for me to figure out walking before doing the same. I left home when the food ran out."
Neither of them responded to that, allowing him to return to a nice quiet glower, watching as Tatertits finished talking to the mustachioed man and skipping back towards them.
"Let's get fried fish!" She cheerfully called out. "What do you think?!"
Adam grunted in vague agreement, mostly not caring where they went to get food. Poledancer and Halfbrat gave more hesitant agreements, causing Tatertits to narrow her eyes with suspicion.
"...Did my Delinquent say something mean and nasty again? You tell me if he did, alright?"
Adam growled back. "I've been overly polite this whole goddamn time, woman."
"Ah! No, h-he didn't say anything rude this time." Poledancer defended. The fuck do you mean 'this time'? Adam snapped his fingers and jerked his head, indicating that they needed to get a move on. Nodding sharply after a moment, Tatertits began to lead them to the next destination.
"Mister Adam was telling us about his past, Hestia-sama." Halfbrat explained.
"Bwa- He told you? He hasn't told me about it at all!" Tatertits responded with a huff and pout. "Nothing more than bits and pieces!"
"You don't ask." Adam rumbled, turning an unamused stare her way, causing her to throw her hands up and head back.
"I shouldn't have to! It should come up in conversation naturally, but all you do is grumble-grumble about killing monsters and expenses!"
"We're a monster-killing company and no one else knows how to handle finances."
"Gah! That isn't the point, the point is that you need to be more open!"
Adam grunted non-committedly in response, causing her to groan and slump again. Poledancer and Halfbrat had started giggling halfway through the back and forth, clearly amused by their employer's baseless frustrations.
—
"Alright Poledancer." Adam rumbled, rolling his joints and stretching in preparation. He had stripped down to a pair of pants, and they had swung by Blueboy's shop for another set of healing potions. The cookpot was off to the side, supervised by Tatertits and Halfbrat, and Shortstack was on the other side of the yard. The three spectators for today. "Let's see if you're worth a damn or not."
On the other side of the backyard, Poledancer held a normal wooden pole, a substitute for her spear. She had likewise stripped down into slightly more freeing wear that consisted of a loose shirt and skirt. They had gathered her luggage on the way back from the tourist-trap inn she was staying at.
She frowned at him briefly. "...Are you mocking me? Where is your weapon?" She asked with furrowed brows and a frown.
"I use a crossbow." He replied briefly, moving into a ready stance with hands raised. "Cut the chatter and come at me already, you're wasting daylight here. I need to see if you can actually use a weapon or not."
She pressed her lips together, before exhaling through her nose and getting into a stance. "Thou shalt not recoil before thine enemy…" She muttered to herself. "Prepare yourself, Captain, lest I give you a sound thrashing."
He didn't bother responding, instead focusing on watching her steady footsteps.
Length of that pole and her arms, she be within range in five more steps. His reach advantage was lost, and he'd have to approach by a full step past her range to attack back. Panzerfaust had no blocking maneuvers bu…
She took another step.
He paused before readjusting, moving his stance into a more conventional brawling form. No need to cripple the new recruit, this was a spar, not a slaughter.
She took another step.
He was very familiar with more standard brawls, it was vastly easier to do than panzerfaust in any case. All you have to do is keep the fundamentals in mind.
She took another step.
He would go for grapples this time around, going for vitals had the same issue as panzerfaust and might cripple a new money-maker before he got any use out of it.
She took another step.
He also had to keep in mind that the pole was standing in for a spear, and not let the blunt tip get him. That would detract from the overall point of testing how good she-
He twisted his torso, letting the tip of the pole move past him. His eyes narrowed in redoubled concentration. He stomped forwards, readying a-
He aborted into a block, the spear swinging a full circle-arc around its pivot point and crashing into his forearm from above. He lashed out a kick, using his much longer legs like spears to-
He threw himself back, already unbalanced by the kick, the spear-tip racing through the space that his chest used to be in. He growled as he controlled his rotation, flowing into a cartwheel-kick that finally connected and smacked the wooden pole into the air.
He could feel the bruise forming on his feet as he landed again, now upright and back into a defensive form. Poledancer slowly returned her pole back into its initial position, unblinking focus directed at him.
Slowly, he raised his forearm and evaluated the damage, a dark purple bruise quickly forming on a well-toned limb. Considering his current slightly-superhuman durability and that he had interrupted the blow before full power could be reached…
Solidly borg parameters. All categories. Not as strong as a Samson, but stronger than most frames. Not as quick as a Dragoon, but quicker than most frames. All that was left to measure was her own durability.
He let his eyes trail up, locking gazes with Poledancer, her eyes now gleaming in quiet satisfaction. He briefly exhaled, before dropping his arms and approaching.
Go ahead, attack again. Your range is three of his steps away.
One. She narrowed her eyes.
Two. Her stance coiled.
The pole lunged forwards in a stab. His shoulder twisted. His arm raced forwards.
His fist wasshaking.
The pole disintegrated as it met his fist. Wooden fingernails curling away from the point of impact, splinters leaping away.
Poledancer's eyes widened, she moved to adjust-
He stomped forwards, twisting into another hook. His other fist, not shaking, crashed into her abdomen. His hand met superhumanly firm abdominals, which flexed under his blow like a trampoline.
Poledancer slid back several feet, bending over slightly and widening her stance to stay upright. After a moment, she straightened up, briefly looking at the now-ruined bloom of a thin wooden flower, before looking at his fist again. She dropped it, before moving into a much less-certain unarmed stance.
He didn't need to see it, he had seen enough. "You learned how to take a hit, looks like." Adam grumbled out, dropping into a more casual stance. He was a big fellow, and punched quite hard. Hard enough to cave in a skull. She didn't even look winded.
Poledancer blinked before smiling widely and loosening her own stance. "I don't mean to be boastful, but I'm quite proud of my endurance. It's my highest statistic."
"I've seen enough. I don't need to babysit you like I do the brats." Adam brushed the splinters off his shirt and pants with an idle frown. "You're good enough, Spearmint."
Spearmint blinked at her new name, before brushing it off and smiling. "I thank you for the words. I must say, Your technique was sublime. Almost the exact moment I began any of my movements, you were already starting to react."
Adam glanced to the side. "Oi, Halfbrat, where's the broom?!" He called out, causing the small girl in the maid dress to quickly rise from the seated position and make for the door, hands holding the hem of her dress up as he went. They needed to clean up these splinters before some brat steps on one and wastes a healing potion.
Responding to Spearmint, he explained his fighting prowess in brief. "I'm Adam Smasher."
Misunderstanding his words, she grinned and brushed a lock out of her face again. "Oriana Drake, of house Drake. My spear is ready for battle."
Opening the door again, slowly closing it behind her, Halfbrat began to run over with broom in hand.
She tripped over the hem of her dress as she approached, and face-planted onto the stone ground. Spearmint immediately gasped in worry and bounded over, and Tatertits rose from her fire and stew pot, hesitating as she looked at the scene.
"Are you okay?" Spearmint asked, crouching down and putting a gentle hand on the brat.
Adam almost sighed as Halfbrat quickly picked herself up again, bloody scrape on her forehead and tiny tears building up in the corner of her eyes. Ignoring worried looks from Spearmint, Halfbrat made her way over to him and held the broom up over her head in both hands, a determined frown on her face.
Pet rules, right?
He took the broom in one hand, rubbing the kid's head with the other. "Good job." He almost rolled his eyes.
All he asked was where the broom was, not for the brat to retrieve it for him, she could've just told him.