Avarice: The Realm Chapter 8: Ratsi

Ratsi

Brandi Knock, also known as Ratsi. In the day after my capture of ReaperGoon, the intel staff at Fort Lincoln identify an item that I can use for my plan. Ratsi is planned to travel through a specific building tomorrow in a meeting with her boss. I assume she’ll probably touch the surface of that building’s door.

With the card Sticky Glue, I can attach the tracking half of Focus Teleport to an object that she’ll touch. When she touches it, the Focus Teleport card will be able to teleport me directly to wherever she is at any time.

This plan will only work once. The card Shroud, among other things, nullifies Focus Teleport. While I’ll still know exactly where Ratsi is at any time, I won’t be able to teleport directly to her. Since she doesn’t know my plan she most likely does not have a Shroud card active. The effect only lasts for twelve hours, and they’re not cheap.

I walk up to Fort Lincoln’s fast travel tower. “Jiniva,” I say.

Jiniva is a city in the Eastern Jungle Biome. It’s not the biggest, not by a long shot, but it does have a small, dedicated player population.

I am curried by the ball of light across the landscape until I land at Jiniva’s fast travel tower.

Jiniva is a city with a Maya influence. Step pyramids rise out of the jungle surrounding the city, and vines crawl across most of the stone surfaces. There are a couple of modern-looking buildings, but most of the houses look like they were taking straight out of Jumanji.

There doesn’t seem to be a considerable player population here, just as expected. Most of the people walking past are NPCs, probably here just to make the city feel lived-in.

The tallest building in the city is the one where Ratsi will meet Mandrake Signa. All I have to do is stick the Focus Teleport tracking module and make sure Sticky Glue’s activation condition is set to Ratsi’s touch. Since I know her username, I’m able to target her with Sticky Glue’s “landmine” function.

I set up the trap in the doorway and then back out. Since they know exactly where I am at all times, I place a video camera in the balcony of an inn that looks over the entrance. The room has been rented out for the next week.

I take the fast travel tower back to Fort Lincoln, enter my officer’s quarters, and watch the trap site remotely with a small screen.

Most of the people going in and out are NPCs dressed in business attire. The building is some sort of governmental entity. I also note several player guild members of several major guilds in Jiniva.

And then she arrives. Ratsi. She’s about as ordinary-looking as any lackey of an international terrorist can be.

When she touches the door handle, Sticky Glue takes effect. She recoils, shakes her hand out, and looks straight at the camera—but it appears that she didn’t see it. She enters the building and closes the door behind her.

I shut off the view screen and stand up. I could use Focus Teleport to get to where Ratsi is now, but she’s probably surrounded by goons and is too close to Mandrake for comfort.

I need to use Focus Teleport’s incidental track function to mark a good time to teleport to Ratsi. Preferably when she’s alone, or when she is in transit.

“Status,” I say. I open up my world map, and turn on the marker that tracks Ratsi. She’s still in the building having her conference with Mandrake right now.

I spend the rest of the day just watching Ratsi move from place to place. After her meeting with Mandrake, Ratsi takes the fast travel system to the city of Endiga. I assume that’s where she lives.

She does some food shopping, heads to a salon, and then goes home.

I take out the Lightning Cage card and flick it. We’re good to go. I put that card back for later use and take out Focus Teleport.

“Teleport: Ratsi!” I say.

A ball of black smoke surrounds me. Before I can orient myself, a knife stabs out of the black and glances off my armor.

“I knew you were coming!” says Ratsi, through the haze.

The smoke clears. I am standing in a cozy, well-lit living room. Ratsi is pressed against the wall.

“Binder,” I yell. “Lightning cage!”

“Binder,” says Ratsi. “Counterspell.”

My card spell fizzles.

“Footlock!” I say.

Ratsi taps her feet. “Aerial walk!” Her feet float off the floor. She tosses a dagger at me.

I dodge. “Slow movement!”

“Counterspell!” says Ratsi.

My spell fizzles again.

“Darken, night vision!” I say.

The room plunges into darkness, but I can still see.

“Night vision,” says Ratsi.

The whole room is cast in a monochrome series of outlines. Ratsi walks through the air towards one of the doors.

“Freeze object,” I say, and the door is frozen shut.

Ratsi attempts to open it, but can’t. “Destroy artifact!” she says.

“Counterspell!” I say.

Ratsi’s spell fizzles.

“Lightning cage!” I say.

Ratsi is surrounded by a cage of electricity. She is breathing heavily. “You got me,” she says.

I attach the threads of my apprehension module and capture her before the Lightning Cage expires. Ratsi disappears in a flash of light, and I put the module in my pocket.

“Unfreeze object,” I say, and I leave the room through the front door.

I walk quickly through the city until I reach the fast travel tower, and then I transit to Fort Lincoln.

Pierre and Garnet are standing next to the tower, chatting. Garnet approaches me.

“Do you have her?” she asks.

I hold up the module. “Bagged and tagged,” I say. “I burned through quite a few cards, though,” I say.

“That’s to be expected,” says Garnet.

“Right,” says Pierre. He takes the module from me. “We’ll make sure she doesn’t try to commit suicide.” He pauses. “Did you have trouble with rats?”

I shake my head. “The battle was too fast,” I say. “I didn’t give her a chance to summon anything.”

“Hrm,” says Pierre. “Well, you’re certainly taking to card combat.”

“It’s all about strategy,” I say. “The things you can do are pretty amazing.”

Pierre grins. “Two more targets to go,” he says.

“And both know I’m coming,” I say.

“Well, Ratsi knew you were coming, right?” says Pierre. “And you took her down.”

“It won’t be so easy anymore,” I say. “Both Mandrake Signa and Peter Cool are probably under the shroud card by now. I can’t use the same tactic twice.”

“You’re pretty experienced, though,” says Garnet. “You’ll figure something out.”

“Do you have any planes I can parachute from?” I ask.

“Parachute?” says Pierre. “Sure. We have a couple of small prop planes that can do that. Why would you want to?”

“I think,” I say, “In this situation, a direct approach is best.” I turn to Garnet. “Do you have any cards that would help me direct myself while skydiving?”

Garnet nods. “Yeah,” she says. “Feather Fall would work great.”

“Get me enough copies of Feather Fall to get me through a skydive from the prop plane’s maximum altitude,” I say.

Pierre chuckles. “You’re definitely the daring type,” he says.

“I have to be, for my job,” I say. “Also, in order for this to work, we need to interrogate Ratsi and get her to tell us where Peter Cool is at a known time. We need to implant him with a Tracking Beacon card.”

“Do you think the Sticky Glue strategy will work a second time?” asks Garnet.

“I don’t think anyone noticed it,” I say. “Not even Ratsi herself.”

“Great,” says Pierre. “I’ll get my best interrogators on the job.”

I walk back to my quarters and stew on the strategy that I’ll use to take out Peter Draws. As I think, I fidget with the half medallion that I was given by the Black Marches.

I try to make a chunk of bismuth bronze, but it turns into a different kind of metal. I’m no expert, but it’s not the same sheen as the medallion. I decide to ask Garnet about that.

I leave my quarters—still waiting for that flash of inspiration to come—and head over to where I know Garnet will be.

I find her in the card library, sorting through a number of black cards. When I enter, she looks up at me.

“Can you help me?” she says. “I’m sorting a new shipment of supply cards.”

I kneel down beside her. “Before that,” I say, “Take a look at this.” I hand her the metal I conjured.

Garnet looks at it under the light. “Looks like it might be arsenical bronze,” she says.

“Arsenical?” I say.

“Bronze that uses arsenic instead of tin,” says Garnet. “Don’t worry,” she says. “As long as you don’t eat it or lick it, you’ll be fine.” She hands the metal back to me. “The MREs go on the second shelf.”

I spend about an hour working with Garnet, organizing cards. Most of them contain ammunition and food. Garnet says almost nothing as she works. I’m fine with that, as I am still thinking of ways that I can defeat Peter Cool.

When we are finished, we head over to the cafeteria.

An alarm sounds. Dozens of X-marines hurry past us. The tanks parked in the staging area are starting up, and a jet takes off from the runway. A dozen Apache helicopters rise from between the buildings.

Garnet puts her hand to her ear. “Looks like Avida is being invaded by zombies,” she says. She puts her hand down. “We’re not contracted to help, but I’m going. It’s up to you if you want to help.”

I nod. “I need to stimulate my senses a bit,” I say. I conjure my trusty bow and arrow.

“This way,” says Garnet. She leads me through the buildings until we reach the helicopter landing pad. Garnet has a few words with a helicopter pilot, and then the pilot makes a motion with his hand.

Get on.

I step onto the helicopter behind Garnet, just as it begins to rise. The wind surrounding me is incredible. We lift off. The ground pulls away, and the buildings of Fort Lincoln scroll past.

 One of the soldiers riding the chopper hands me a helmet with an earpiece. I put it on.

There are gigantic speakers attached to each side of the helicopter. I know exactly what they’re for.

Iron Maiden’s The Trooper begins to blast from the speakers, coordinated with the rest of the choppers.

“Nice,” says Garnet, giving the pilot a thumbs-up.

“Who pays for this stuff?” I say.

“The government says it improves morale!” says the pilot. He makes the metal symbol with his hand.

Indeed, I feel my blood pumping through my veins. This is quite the rocking way to enter a battle.

The city of Avida appears on the horizon. In between us and the buildings is a mass of squirming black that looks to fill an entire square kilometer.

“Are those the zombies?” I ask.

“That they are!” says the pilot.

As we pass over the mass of monsters, we strafe them with rockets and machine guns. It looks to do very little damage.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to handle this one!” says one soldier beside me. “There’s a lot of them goons!”

Two jet planes release cluster bombs into the mass. Again, very little damage was done.

“The order to evacuate Avida has been given!” says the pilot. He takes the chopper around the city’s central dungeon, which is identical to the one at South A Town.

“The brass says there’s almost a hundred thousand of them!” says Garnet.

“We’ll do what we can,” says the pilot. He takes the chopper back over the mass of zombies. We fire another two dozen rockets into their mass. Pieces of zombie offal fly everywhere.

And yet, the mass advances.

“Avida has been evacuated via the fast travel towers,” says a voice over the radio. “All units pull off.”

“There’s a gold card in there somewhere,” says Garnet, her eyes sparkling.

“Hold up,” says the voice on the radio. “Lieutenant Braze, what makes you think that?”

“There’s no way this would be designed into the game unless there was a reward,” says Garnet.

“Certainly,” says the voice. “We’ve considered that. But you know something, don’t you?”

“Sir,” says Garnet, “It’s just a hunch.”

“We’ll investigate,” says the voice. “For now, all units have been ordered to retreat.”

Our chopper peels off and heads back to Fort Lincoln.

“How often do zombies invade cities?” I ask.

“The wave attacks cities at random,” says Garnet. “Once they’ve destroyed everything, they move on to the next. There’s only one wave, and it moves slow, but it’s near impossible to defeat.”

“Has anyone tried?” I ask.

“Over the years, yes,” says Garnet. “But no one has succeeded.”

“And you think there’s a gold card reward for defeating them,” I say.

“Yes,” says Garnet. “And we’ll get it.”

“After I capture Mandrake and his goons, I think this might be worth my while,” I say.

“Indeed,” says Garnet. “But for now, you have to focus on your own mission.”

“Gotcha,” I say. “I’m on it."

Avarice: The Realm Chapter 7: Blood Oath

Blood Oath

The next job won’t be as easy as the first. I caught Mandrake Signa and his gang off guard; they didn’t even know anyone was after them. From here on out they’re going to be ready for me.

After I arrive at Fort Lincoln in a burst of light, I am greeted by Pierre, who grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me into a makeshift tent near the fast travel tower.

I enter, and most of the Fort Lincoln brass is there. Their faces tell me everything.

“He retaliated,” I say. I cough into my hand.

Pierre nods. “Much faster than we thought he would,” he says. “It’s been ten minutes since you successfully captured Ronald Delinsky.”

I hold out the apprehension module. “You should probably take this.”

One of the brass grabs it and slips it into a secured, tracked, and electrified storage container.

Pierre turns away from me, facing the wall. “And we’ve had an attack on an embassy near the British Fort Dunkirk. Two diplomats were killed, and we’ve had a lot of injuries to important people.”

“So he knows it was me,” I say. I feel a little tingle coming up through my arms.

“Not you exactly,” says Pierre. “But the US. We’ve beefed up security around all of our bases, but we’re not sure that we’ll be able to withstand Mandrake’s wrath.”

I cough, and a wave of dizziness takes over me. I know exactly what is happening.

Blowback.

“I can deal with that later,” I say, as I clutch my stomach. “If you need me.”

Pierre nods. “We’re all Freax users here,” he says. “There’s a blowback clinic just two buildings down.”

I cough up a thick, green fluid. The familiar feeling of numbness inserts itself into my abdomen.

I stagger out of the tent. As I do, I hear one of the officers speaking.

“Are you sure he can handle this?” the officer says.

“I know he can,” says Pierre.

I peel away before I can hear the rest of the conversation.

The blowback clinic is just like the one run by my friend, Daxton, in the real world.

I enter through an automatic door and am met with a blast of air-conditioned cool. There are two bialysis chambers against the wall. One of them is being used.

“Is it that time of the month again?” says a man in a lab coat. He is wearing a lopsided grin.

I clutch my stomach. “Yeah,” I say.

“I’m Doctor Fan,” says the man.

“Great,” I say, still holding my stomach. “Just get me cleaned up.”

“Clothes off,” says Fan.

I turn my armor back into card form and do the same for my clothes. I am standing in my underwear, and it feels a bit chilly.

Fan puts a special bismuth bronze fabric over my body, sort of like a magical hospital gown.

“Since The Realm is only accessible by Freax users,” says Fan, “There are plenty of places to get detoxed.” He shrugs. “But even so it’s pretty expensive.”

I step into the bialysis machine and lay against the fabric. I close my eyes.

My mind clicks. I am used to it by now, but even so it’s a difficult process. My soul rises out of my body and stands in the middle of a cluttered mess of a house. There are trash bags full of takeout boxes everywhere. The sink is overflowing with dishes and algae. Cockroaches scanter across the floor.

I walk through all the trash bags and head up worn stairs to the second floor. One room is filled to the brim with old furniture.

The whole house has a nostalgic feel, as if I had lived here as a child and forgotten it.

I begin the cleanup process. I know that, in the real world, I am being injected with liquid Freax. But to me, in the depths of my mind, it takes the form of an army of robot maids who skitter about the house, picking up trash, dusting, doing the laundry and the dishes.

This is what Freax does to the mind. It changes you. It controls you. Once you’ve taken the drug, you have to keep taking it. Forget heroin withdrawals; if I were ever to stop taking the Freax drug, I would die a horrible and painful death.

Superpowers come at a cost, after all.

The robot maids toss all the garbage into a portable lava bucket, each bag sizzling before disappearing into the red abyss. They wipe everything down, fumigate, and rearrange the furniture.

After about half an hour of experienced time my mind-house is cleaner than it’s been since the last booster dose.

I wake up underneath the metallic dome of the bialysis machine.

“Your vitals are all good,” says Fan. “You were out for eight hours.”

I sigh. That’s about normal for a Freax booster and bialysis operation. Normally this process would run me about two thousand dollars, but ever since I started working with the government I’ve been getting the operation for free.

I get up out of the machine. As soon as I do, another marine gets in.

“Binder.” I take the cards representing my clothes and armor and equip them.

Once out of the bialysis clinic, I am greeted by Pierre.

“This was the worst possible time for you to get blowback,” he says. “We’ve needed you desperately for the past eight hours.”

“Another attack?” I ask.

“No,” says Pierre. “It’s Ronald Delinsky. ReaperGoon.”

“And?” I say.

“He refuses to talk to anyone but you,” says Pierre. “We’re not allowed to use any more … Painful methods to extract information. But something tells me you’ll be able to get something out of him.”

“Don’t you have mind affecting Freax users here?” I ask.

Pierre shakes his head. “We tried. This man has been trained to resists mind-altering Freax abilities.”

I sigh. “Take me to him.”

Pierre leads me through Fort Lincoln until we reach an entrance to an underground bunker. We ride an elevator several floors down and step into a well-lit hallway. People with lab coats are walking back and forth.

“This is our research lab and quarantine unit,” says Pierre. He leads me to a nondescript door at the end of the hall.

I open it. The room is dark, and there is a shadowy figure strapped to a chair in the rooms center.

“Heh, heh,” says the figure.

Pierre turns on the light. The figure in the chair is Ronald Delinsky.

Ronald spits. “You knocked out several of my teeth with that footlock trick,” he says, wearing a dangerous lop-sided grin.

“You wanted to talk to me?” I say.

Ronald laughs. “No! I want to kill you!” He cackles. “Mandrake is going to repay you tenfold for what you’ve done to me.”

Yuck. I really don’t like this type of person.

“Just tell me what you want with me,” I say, “And we can end this early.”

Ronald laughs again. “Like I’ll ever do what you want!” His laugh is maniacal. He knows that he is in trouble.

I sigh, and sit down on a chair directly across from Ronald.

“We can do this the easy way,” says Pierre, “Or we can do this the hard way.”

“You Americans don’t have the guts to torture me,” says Ronald.

Pierre shrugs. “The Geneva convention states that we can’t torture prisoners. However,” Pierre puts on a very scary face, “The Realm isn’t beholden to those rules.”

Ronald spits. “You Americans have, like, some sort of election thing going, right?” he says. “You do something to me and you lose that chance!”

“First,” says Pierre, “Military personnel aren’t elected.” He holds up two fingers. “Second, no one has to know what happened to you.”

Ronald cackles. “Well, I’m dead anyways,” he says. “And I’ll take my secrets to the grave.” He winks at me. “I just wanted you here so that I could do this. Binder. Tracking Beacon!”

A flash of light surrounds me and my skin begins to tingle.

“This is not good,” says Pierre.

Ronald continues to laugh, and then his body boils.

“Binder,” I yell. “Ethereal shield!”

A shield made of yellow crosses surrounds me just as a lance made of boiling blood slams against it. A foul-smelling steam surrounds me.

Pierre gags. “That’s nasty,” he says.

It looks like, in his final moment, Ronald used his own blood as a weapon to try and kill me.

“Is there a card to remove tracking beacons?” I ask.

“It’s a Gold Card,” says Pierre. “And the US government does not have one.”

This is going to affect my work. Now, Mandrake and his goons are going to know exactly where I am at all times.

Not good.

I examine Ronald’s body. His skin has shriveled, and all the blood in his body is gone.

“Nasty,” says Pierre. He puts his hand to his ear. “Yeah. Call the biohazard cleanup crew.” He puts his hand down. “Sorry to subject you to this,” he says.

“I’ve seen worse,” I say. Though, the room is giving me some strange vibes. I back out as slow as I can and let Pierre close the door.

I stand in the hallway, my hands in my pockets.

Pierre sighs. “He pulled one over on us,” he says.

I shake my head. “You had no idea.”

“I should have anticipated that!” says Pierre. “I’m a veteran of the Realm.” He grits his teeth. “But, to tell you the truth, I’ve never actually been in a real binder battle.” He turns away from me. “And it showed.”

I put my arm on Pierre’s shoulder. “I can deal with this,” I say. “As soon as Mandrake and his goons are dead, I’ll be safe. I just have to strike first.”

“Right,” says Pierre. “We’ll support you all the way.”

I walk to the elevator and take it up to the surface. Pierre is silent.

Garnet is leaning against a wall outside the entrance to the underground bunker. “Did you get anything out of him?” she asks.

I shake my head. “He put a tracker on me and then killed himself.”

Garnet scoffs. “He deserved whatever he got,” she says.

“It’s going to get tough,” I say. “Mandrake will most likely continue to retaliate. Now that he knows where I am at all times, I’ll have a lot of difficulty sneaking up on him.”

“So what are you going to do?” asks Garnet.

“I have a plan,” I say. “It involves the card Focus Teleport. You have some of those, right?”

Garnet shrugs. “I mean, yeah. We have a lot of cards here.”

“Get me two copies of Focus Teleport,” I say. “And ID some sort of physical object that both of Mandrake’s remaining underlings are in possession of that they may leave in a place I can reach.”

“Um, okay,” says Garnet. “That’s a pretty specific order.”

“It’s necessary,” I say.

“I’ll get our intel team on it,” says Pierre.

Pierre and Garnet split to do their respective jobs. I sit down on a metal bench and put my chin in my hands, watching the X-marines walk past. They’re doing some sort of tank exercise, and about a dozen Abrams tanks are rolling across the demonstration grounds.

A man wearing a black fedora approaches me. I recognize the pin on his lapel; it’s the emblem of the Black Marches.

“You’re pretty brazen to make your way into a US military base,” I say, as the man sits down next to me.

The man tips his hat. “Indeed,” he says. “I have a message to deliver. Someone has put a hit out on you.”

“I had guessed that,” I say. “Why are you telling me this?”

“That someone is an enemy,” says the man. “As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, yes?”

“Hah,” I say. “Mandrake Signa must have done something stupid to get on the bad side of the Black Marches.”

“It’s not Mandrake,” says the man. “Mandrake is cookies compared to the person we’re talking about.”

“Sure,” I say. “But my job is to deal with Mandrake.”

“And that’s what you’ll do,” says the man. “Just keep a few Ethereal Shield cards handy.” He passes me half of a medallion. It looks like the metal has been sheared with powerful bolt cutters.

“This is one half of the Gold Card called Rainbow Coin,” says the man. “And Mandrake has the other half. Once you unite the two pieces, something special will happen.”

“You obviously gain something from that, right?” I say.

The man shrugs. “Of course. I work for profit, after all.” He winks. “And you might receive a reward as well.”

“What’s to stop me from keeping the card?” I say.

The man stands up. “You won’t.” He pulls out a black card. “Evecin.” A familiar pillar of light surrounds him and then he is gone.

Garnet runs up to where I am sitting. “I just saw a transfer light,” she says. “What happened?”

I shake my head. “Just a secret organization contacting me to give me a job,” I say. I hold up the half of the Gold Card. “Do you know what this is?”

“No,” says Garnet. She takes it from me and looks at it under the sunlight. “Isn’t this Bismuth Bronze?”

“I guess,” is say. “I’m no expert on metals.”

Garnet hands the half medallion back to me. “Well, if you do actually find a gold card, the government will buy it off you for an exorbitant price.”

“What are we talking?” I ask.

“Millions,” says Garnet.

Is that what the Black Marches representative meant when he said I wouldn’t keep it?

“Card,” I say.

The medallion stays inert.

“Card,” I say again.

The medallion refuses to turn into card form. I slip it into my pocket.

“Mandrake Signa has the other half,” I say.

“Looks like you have another reason to do your job,” says Garnet.  

“Sure,” I say. “As if I didn’t already have enough of a reason.”

Garnet turns away from me. “I’ll contact you via telepathy if I find out anything more.” Then she heads towards the HQ building.

It’s time to get to work capturing my next target.

Avarice: The Realm Chapter six: First Job

First Job

Grinding our way through the dungeon’s lower floors is a tedious, uninteresting job that involves killing infinitely-respawning monsters while following a repeating pattern that maximizes our kill rate and minimizes our expenditure of energy. I gain about twenty-five levels in the first week of grinding, and it takes me another three weeks to reach level fifty.

Fifty is the lowest that one can be and maintain a workable advantage in the “Player-Versus-Player” realm—which is, of course, my ultimate goal.

When I finally reach level fifty, I take a moment to celebrate and then return to Fort Lincoln via fast travel. It is there that I am to receive my first assignment.

I stand in the briefing room with some of the top brass at Fort Lincoln. They stand in a row around the projection screen.

A picture of a man appears on the screen. Pierre points to it with a laser pointer.

“This is Mandrake Signa,” says Pierre, “Known in-game as Mother of Death.” He clicks the presentation. “He is known for being able to plant bombs anywhere he touches and detonate them remotely.” Pierre clicks the presentation again. “As you can probably guess, the ability to create and plant bombs at will goes really well with the job of being a terrorist.”

“This man is responsible for five attacks on US soil,” says one of the brass standing against the wall. “And seven attacks on other countries. He has an INTERPOL arrest warrant out for him. However, INTERPOL doesn’t deal inside The Realm.”

“Right,” says Pierre. “Don’t underestimate this man. He has multiple accomplices, all of whom are dangerous in their own right.”

I salute. “I can handle him,” I say.

“We don’t doubt you can,” says Pierre. “Your track record is impressive. Three targets last year, twenty-two in total.”

“Thank you for that assessment,” I say.

Pierre nods. “Great. We’ll give you all the information we know about Mandrake Signa and let you do what you do best.” He pulls a paper file out of a cabinet. “Here’s the dossier,” he says. “One for Mandrake and three for his known accomplices.”

I take the files. “Is there anything else?” I ask.

Pierre shakes his head. “No. That’s everything we know.” He salutes. “Good luck.”

I leave the room and head to my personal room in the officers’ barracks. I lock the door and sit down at the room’s wooden desk. Spreading out the files in front of myself, I put up a cork board and begin sticking pins in it.

It looks like Mother of Death’s three accomplices are Ronald Delinsky, known as ReaperGoon; Brandi Knock, known as Ratsi; and Peter Draws, known as ColorfulAmber.

ReaperGoon is a watermancer who can produce high-pressure streams of water, enough to cut through flesh and bone. Ratsi can summon gigantic rats. ColorfulAmber can draw things on a piece of paper and have them become real.

Mother of Death’s goons might not be as difficult to take down, but I still need to keep my guard up. The things I learned about card battles while grinding in the dungeon will definitely affect how I go about my hunt.

I prepare a strategy. I’m going to take out Mother of Death’s three goons before I go after him. From what I’ve experienced, when a kingpin has powerful underlings, he’s more likely to run and hide and let his underlings do his work for him.

I plan on striking ReaperGoon first.

“Binder,” I say. I flip through my binder until I find the Unconnected Track card. It allows me to see the general location of a player. In order to see more detailed information, I would have to use the Tracking Beacon card and attach it to them. However, just knowing which part of The Realm they’re in is good enough for me.

It appears ReaperGoon is currently somewhere in the western portion of the Eastern Biome, somewhat near the entrance gates.

I head to Fort Lincoln’s fast travel tower.

“Roghponanov!” I say. A ball of light surrounds me a spirits me across the landscape. The desert turns into a post-apocalyptic city, complete with mossy buildings and rows of abandoned cars. I land at the fast travel tower in the center of Roghponanov, one of the two biggest cities in the Eastern Biome.

This is where the hunt begins. Right now, it’s probable that ReaperGoon does not know I’m coming after him.

The best way to deal with a mook is to kill them from a distance. Any Freax user worth their salt has a sensing barrier around them at all times, and as such can’t be sniped or killed in a surprise shooting. I myself am always watching for that sort of thing.

As well as this, I have to keep my identity anonymous. If the organization that supports a terrorist knows who I am and what I’ve done, they’ll go to the ends of the Earth to kill me. So far, I’ve been able to do my job without revealing my identity.

I meander through the city until I find what I need—an information broker. This incarnation of the trade is a man dressed in a pinstripe suit sitting against a pile of crates next to a clothing shop. I know he’s an information broker because of the mark above him, etched into the wood. It’s a universal symbol that brokers use to distinguish themselves.

I approach the man.

The man tips his hat. “How can I help you?” he says.

I show the small badge I have sewn into the inside of my undershirt.

The man’s lips curl up. “Of course.” He takes a cigar out of his pocket, cuts, it, and lights it. “What do you want to know?”

I lean against the shop wall. “ReaperGoon,” I say.

The man chuckles. “Ah, yes. Lots of people want the Goon dead.” He rubs his hands. “Fifty gold.”

I transfer the money. The information broker grins, taking a puff of his cigar. “Well now,” he says. “I seem to remember hearing that ReaperGoon is in the business of running an illegal unicorn brawl. Somewhere here in Ropov. If you head to the right establishment the owner might point you towards your target.”

“Unicorn brawl,” is say, rolling the name on my tongue. “I know you information brokers charge for everything, but I have to ask. What’s illegal about it?”

“I’ll give you this one for five silver,” says the man.

I flip him his money.

“Unicorns are one of The Realm’s protected species,” says the man. “The game’s own police system protects them and hunts those who harm them.” He shrugs. “But I guess there are shady applications for everything and everybody.” He flicks the ashes off of his cigar. “Anything else?”

“No,” I say. I turn away. “Ashente.”

“Ashente,” says the information broker.

We part ways, and I walk to the most seedy eating establishment I can find within half a mile of the broker. I find the Hidden Bowl, a remarkably dangerous-looking pub that is surrounded by ruffians and villains.

I walk past the gang of petty thieves around the door, watching my pockets.

“Steal,” I hear someone whisper.

“Binder. Counterspell,” I say. A small flicker of light sparkles around my binder. I turn to face the thief who tried to steal from me.

“Blinding light,” I say. Two orbs of light appear in front of the thief’s eyes. I then deliver him an uppercut that’s sure to break his jaw and send most of his teeth flying.

The little white bits of bone clatter to the ground around me. The thief collapses.

A big, burly man who must be the leader of the gang steps up to me, his chest puffed out.

“What was that for, dead meat?” he says.

I knock his teeth out, too, with a hard right hook. I don’t have time to deal with petty criminals.

The rest of the thieves surround me. There are five still standing.

I sigh, and conjure my trusty bantanum sword.

“Unless you want to know what bantanum looks like with blood on it,” I say, “You’d better back off.”

Two of the thieves pick up their boss by the shoulders. The whole gang backs off. “We’ll remember this,” says one of the thieves, and then the group peels away. The thief I hit first regains consciousness, looks around frantically, and then scrambles to his feet, sprinting into the street and around the corner.

I sigh and turn to the door.

A man in a red vest is leaning against the wall. “You have a way with a fist,” he says. “Those butt-licking pickpockets have been lingering here for weeks.” He grins. “Not that anyone inside is any more moral.” He winks. “I assume you’re not here for the booze.” He points to himself. “The name’s Reggie.”

I frown, trying my best to evaluate the man. “RoundTable,” I say.

“Well, Mr. Roundtable,” says Reggie. “Let’s get down to business. You want to buy some FB-twelve, right?”

“I have no idea what that is,” I say, “And I don’t want any.”

Reggie scoffs. “Well then, why else would you be here?”

“I’m looking for the unicorn fight club,” I say.

Reggie raises an eyebrow. “The location of that place is common knowledge around here,” he says. “Did someone pull a prank on you?”

“I’d appreciate it if you could tell me where it is,” I say.

Reggie points to something behind me. I turn around.

“That building?” I say. It’s a building that looks much like all the others in this post-apocalyptic biome.

“Yeah,” says Reggie. “You’ll have a great time. I recommend betting on James the Rabbit. He’s been on a losing streak, but I feel like his time is coming.”

“Thanks,” I say. I flip him a gold.

Reggie grins, and winks. “Well, if you ever do need any FB-twelve, come stop by.”

I cross the street and approach the building’s door. It’s a large steel construction, with a small slit at eye level. I knock.

The slit opens and I can see two bloodshot eyes. “Who’re you?” the man says.

“I’m here to bet on James the Rabbit,” I say. “I hear he’s going to start winning soon.”

The man behind the door chuckles. “Well, I’m not going to stop you from doing that,” he says.

The door creaks open. I pass through, past the fat man guarding it, and into a crowded open space with a rodeo-style arena in its center. The place is packed, and bright searchlights flit back and forth. Two unicorns are romping around the rodeo arena, kicking up blood-stained dirt. The crowd undulates every time a unicorn scores a hit.

A scabby man shuffles up to me, his one good eye flitting up and down my person. “Who’re ya bettin’ on?” he says.

I shake my head. “I’m—” I reconsider. “I’ll bet ten gold on James the Rabbit.”

“Eh, heh,” says the man. “Everyone seems to think Mr. Rabbit will come out of this one ahead.” He turns away, waving his crabbed hand. “Good luck!” He cackles.

I sit down at an empty seat near the back of the bleachers and watch the battle unfold before me for a minute. Then I stand up and tap the shoulder of the man sitting in front of me. He’s not wearing a shirt, and his chest is covered in alcohol.

“Whaddya want?” he says, his eyes glazed over.

“Who runs this place?” I ask.

The man spits. “Why’d I ever tell you that?”

I flip him a gold.

The man’s eyes light up and he seems to be pulled from some other world. “Well, ya really want to know, dontcha?” he says. He points up. I follow his finger and see a suite, covered by bulletproof glass, and through the glass I see the man himself, ReaperGoon.

Target acquired.

I flip the stoned man another five silver and then climb the bleachers until I am directly underneath the booth.

“Binder,” I say. I take the Periscope card and activate it. It splits into two parts, and I toss the camera half into the air where it floats just at the bottom of the window to the club.

I watch ReaperGoon drink wine and eat a succulent roast pig like he’s at a royal banquet. I guess being one of Mandrake Signa’s underlings has its bonuses.

I take the Footlock card and attach it to a Delayed Activation card. I then slip into an employees-only door and climb up a set of maintenance stairs.

There are no guards. It looks like ReaperGoon is being lax with his protections.

I stand next to the door to the club room. Opening it slightly, I peek through the crack and observe. It’s the same as before. ReaperGoon at the west corner with a woman on both arms, two underlings sitting at a table playing cards, and a stripper doing a pole dance in the south corner. Classic “bad guy lair” vibes. My target is ReaperGoon. While I am cleared to kill anyone who tries to attack me, I want to make as small a mess as possible. The two underlings probably haven’t done anything to merit death, and if they have it’s not my job to mete out justice for that.

I activate the Bug Familiar card and let it buzz into the center of the room. At my command, the bug explodes into a thick cloud of smoke.

I burst into the room. As I pass the room’s center, ReaperGoon comes out of the smoke and aims a fist at my face.

I activate the Footlock effect. ReaperGoon’s feet lock to the floor, and he faceplants into the concrete. I pull out an apprehension module, attach the wires, and ReaperGoon turns into a ball of light that is then sucked into the module. The module beeps.

Target apprehended. Bagged and tagged. I retreat out of the room before the smoke clears, and two minutes later I am safely on the street.

I won’t need to go through the whole information broker thing to get to the rest of my targets—the government can interrogate ReaperGoon and get info out of him.

I walk to the fast travel pillar and take out my Traveler’s Pass.

“Fort Lincoln,” I say. I am carried away in a pillar of light.

Avarice: The Realm Chapter Five: Dungeon Beginnings

Dungeon Beginnings

I climb to the top of a building so that I can get a better look at what Garnet calls ‘The Roving Keep.’ It does, indeed, look like a walking castle. The goblins still outside the city are rushing towards it.

Several causeways drop from the keep’s side and hundreds of large, bear-like creatures march out. The bears clash with the goblins in a large, ragged wave.

Garnet climbs up to the roof next to me. She slips her daggers back into her equipment belt. “Looks like we’re saved,” she says.

“Are those bears?” I ask.

“Bearfolk,” says Garnet. “The bearfolk and the goblins are mortal enemies.”

“Are they NPCs too?” I ask.

“Well, sure,” says Garnet. “As much as any non-player character here in The Realm can be considered one.”

We both watch as the goblins are routed by the bearfolk. The American and French armored cavalry pull out and assist the bearfolk from behind their lines.

Garnet puts her hand to her ear. “Yes. Right.” She drops her hand and looks at me. “Looks like our military didn’t take any casualties,” she says. “Though the French lost a few.”

“So the cazzies took the brunt,” I say.

Garnet sighs. “Yeah. But they know how dangerous this game is.”

I shake my head slowly and watch as our combined arms mop up the remainder of the goblins.

“I hope I don’t have to deal with any more of this,” I say. “I signed up to be an assassin, not a grunt.”

“Well, this is part of your job too,” says Garnet. “Defending the weak and all that.”

I shake my head. “Well. I’m just glad that we can keep moving along our schedule.”

Garnet turns away. “We’ll begin the grind tomorrow. For today, I think—”

Hob climbs up the building we’re standing on. “Hey!” he says. “There’s some sort of military puke who wants to see you guys!”

Garnet sighs. “It’s me they want. Just go buy some binder skins or whatever.” She climbs down the stairs to the roof, leaving me alone on the roof with Hob.

Hob puts his arm around me. “I misjudged you,” he says. “For a newbie, you definitely have the moves.”

“This isn’t my first combat scenario,” I say.

“I can see that!” says Hob. “As a gesture of our new friendship, I’ll treat you to some lunch!” He peels off and stands against the roof’s fencing. “The boys have been waiting for some fresh meat.”

“Ah, more Reball?” I say.

“Hah,” says Hob. “You beat me, but I’m the worst out of us.” He grins at me. “And this time we’ll put up something of value for the bet.” He walks to the stairs and begins to descend. “Meet me at the Graven Reball Parlor.”

I watch him go, and then turn to look at the helicopters buzzing around the city. I suppose that it’s because of them we survived with as few casualties as we did.

I turn to the stairs and descend from the building’s roof. After finding a town map posted on a billboard, I make my way to the Reball parlor.

The parlor is a small building with a large façade that evokes the neon signs of Las Vegas mixed with the back-alley red-light Hong Kong aesthetic. A clear signal that this is where ne’er do wells hang.

Oh well. I’ve been to worse places. I push my way through the door and into a dimly-lit dive-bar interior dominated by a dozen large reball tables. Most of them are occupied; I assume the cazzies who survived the battle are spending their loot money. I, too, obtained a sizable amount of gold from monster ‘drops.’ While I was fighting the goblins, whenever I killed one, a little ping notified me that I had earned some cash.

This is how video games work, after all. Kill monsters, get loot. I have enough that I’ll be able to handle the ‘something of value’ part of this event.

I approach the table where Hob is standing. He is flanked by a  burly-looking man; a thin, wiry man with a ruffled haircut; and a rather seedy-looking woman wearing a gaudy purple dress.

Hob shakes my hand as I approach. “This is Capo Two-Three-One,” he says pointing to the burly man. He points to the wiry man. “PeaksGold,” he says. He points to the woman. “Ramma.”

Ramma winks at me in a motion that, to me, is a bit off-putting. I really don’t know what she’s thinking. Capo grins, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I hear you beat Hob,” says Capo. “I’ll be your next challenger.”

I sigh. “Sure,” I say. “Binder.” I pull out my reball starter kit. “Drop.” The box appears on the table, ready to use.

  Capo summons his own reball army. “Let’s put something up to make this game more fun,” he says. “How about that armor you’re wearing?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think the brass would appreciate me gambling away their assets.” I hold out my hand. “But I’m a conjurer. I can summon quite a bit of useful stuff.” A small bar of silvery metal drops onto the table. It is coated with a purplish sheen.

“Bantanum, eh?” says Capo. “That’s quite a bit.” He chuckles. “All right. And I’ll put up this.” He places a dagger on the table. “A Regalus Plus Two.”

Hob scoffs, looking at Capo. “You’re really going to put that up? You don’t even know his power level yet.”

“I’m going to win,” says Capo. “And I only need one more bar of bantanum to complete my armor upgrade.”

I set up my army using what I learned from my previous game. Defend the flanks, protect the tanks, pierce enemy lines with heavy infantry. Even with the starter kit, which seems to be quite underpowered, I manage to defeat Capo in under ten minutes.

Capo, upon realizing his defeat, slams his fist against the table. “Seriously?” he says. “I’ve been playing reball for five years and this newbie with a starter kit beats me this badly?”

Hob pats Capo on the back. “It’s fine,” he says. “I warned you, and this is what you reap.”

Capo rubs his temples. “The knife is yours. Do with it what you will.”

I pick up the knife and the bar of bantanum. “Card,” I say. Both objects turn into card form. “Binder,” I say, and then I slip both cards into their slots.

“Since I won,” I say, “Would you direct me to a place where I can buy a skin for my binder?”

Capo sighs. “Sure.” He turns to Hob.

Hob nods. “I’ll come with you,” he says.

Hob and Capo lead me out of the reball parlor and through a series of winding streets. A small, hole-in-the wall shop is nestled in between two houses. A battered sign reads “South A Skins.”

“This shop is run by a player,” says Hob. “In The Realm, it’s possible to customize skins. This shop sells the best of the best.”

We step through a battered door and into a dusty, cluttered shop floor. A single player is reclining in a chair behind the counter, sleeping.

“Hey, Rick!” says Hob.

The man whom I assume is Rick jolts out of his slumber. “Oh, heya, Hob,” He says. “You here to pick up the skin you ordered?”

“Well, yeah, that,” says Hob, as he approaches the counter. “Plus I have to get this newbie a classy skin.”

“Binder, shop!” says Rick. His binder is decorated with an intricate tribal pattern. “Hm, right. Here’s the dragon fire skin you ordered.” He slips a card out of his binder and hands it to Hob. Then Rick looks at me. “What kind of skin strikes your fancy?”

“Um, I like cars,” I say. “You have any skins with sports cars on them?”

Hob shakes his head. “No,” he says. He pauses. “But wait. I do have a couple of binders with the logos of famous car companies.” He flips through his shop binder. “Ah, yes.” He takes out a card. “The Etemna logo.” He hands the card to me.

I look at it. Yes, it is the Etemna logo—a picture of a falcon carrying an engine.

“I’ll take it,” I say.

“That will be five gold,” says Rick.

I pay him his gold and receive the skin card. “Drop,” I say. The card puffs into a burst of colored smoke and is gone. “Binder.” My binder is now covered with a sleek, well-made skin presenting the Etemna logo on each face.

“I like it,” I say. I put my binder away.

Hob chuckles. “Classic,” he says. “Now you’re a real player. Welcome to the club.”

I thank Rick and head out into the street. Hob and Capo part ways with me, and I wander towards the center of town.

The cleanup from the goblin invasion is going on wherever the goblins managed to break through the walls. The portions of the palisade that were destroyed are now being repaired, and scaffolding covers most of its surface area.

A large building built with flowing architecture and covered in shining glass is at the center of the town. Lots of people are going in and out. I approach it out of curiosity. The sign hanging above the door, in big letters, reads Magic Inc. Below, in tiny letters, it reads South A Branch.

I push my way through the door and enter into a large, box-chain style sales floor filled from end to end with racks of cards. I wander past the entrance area and begin to browse some of the cards.

Reyvan Dagger +2; Selurian Armor; Box of Secrets; Common Sponge; there seems to be no end to the variety of objects that can be turned into cards.

I pick up a Bag of Apples and two Loaves of Bread for the low price of three silver. I slip the cards into my binder—who knows when I’ll need them?

After browsing around of a bit longer I leave Magic, Inc and head towards my lodgings.

I spend the rest of the day performing my Freax meditation and training as best as I can in the small room I’ve been given. I go to sleep at my normal time and wake up feeling refreshed.

When I leave my room and head to the inn’s common area, I see Garnet leaning back in a chair and enjoying her breakfast.

“You’re up early,” she says. “I wasn’t planning on waking you up for another half hour.”

I sit down across from her. “I usually get up even earlier than this,” I say.

“Today’s the day we start our grind,” says Garnet. “Since you’re a level one, we’re going to start at the bottom and work our way up.” She waves over the server. “Get this man a hearty breakfast.”

The server nods and, two minutes later, brings out a piping hot plate of pancakes, sausage, and eggs.

Even though The Realm is technically some sort of illusionary game formed from pure Freax, the food definitely tastes real. I finish my plate without much aplomb.

Garnet stands up, shouldering her crossbow. “Let’s go,” she says.

I follow her out of the inn and into the streets. For the first time, I head directly towards the monolith that dominates the skyline. The dungeon.

And soon, we enter.

Avarice: The Realm Chapter Four: Goblin Invasion

Goblin Invasion

“Goblins, eh?” I say. “They don’t sound too terrible.”

“These goblins are,” says Garnet. “They bring trolls and lesser dragons. I don’t even think you’ll be able to take down a lesser dragon alone.”

I open my binder and don my suit of armor, and then I conjure my trusty bow. I twirl an arrow between my fingers. “Who’s helping us?”

“I’ve called for backup from Fort Lincoln,” says Garnet. “The air support will arrive in five minutes. Two Thunderbolts and five Hueys.”

I whistle. “That’s some serious firepower.”

“The ground cavalry will be here in half an hour,” says Garnet. “We just need to hold out until then.”

Garnet and I are walking through the town’s main street. Everyone is panicking, and the raid siren blares above our heads. Dozens of pillars of light are flying in from all directions and landing to reveal players.

“Is it that serious?” I say, as I watch more than a hundred players assembling in the main square.

“Goblin invasions typically contain ten thousand warriors,” says Garnet. “Without the cavalry we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

The beat of a heavy drum resonates across the landscape. It grows louder with every hit.

Garnet runs up the town’s palisade to stand among a dozen or so adventurers. I climb up after her.

The whole of the horizon is black. A line of fuzz punctuated by towering behemoths.

“What do they want with us?” I say.

“Control of the dungeon,” says Garnet. “Dungeons are valuable sources of all sorts of things.”

The drumbeat approaches. The faces of the players say it all: they aren’t prepared for this.

A low drone builds up in the sky to the east. Ten black dots appear in the sky, on the opposite horizon from the invasion.

Garnet holds her hand to her ear. “Yeah. Okay.” She puts her hand down and turns to me. “It’s the French. Their base of operations is closer to South A Town than ours.”

The helicopters fly overhead, their rotors chopping the sky. Hovering over the landscape, they open fire on the goblins with a volley of missiles. Explosions rip through the goblin army.

A pack of dragons rise up out of the invading army and fly towards the choppers. Fire shoots from their mouths. One helicopter is caught right in the body and spirals, smoking, to the ground.

“Ouch,” says Garnet.

Two French jets tear through the sky, releasing carpet bombs. A line of monstrous explosions races across the invaders.

“It’s going to take more than that,” says Garnet, as we watch the invaders continue to approach.

The choppers and jet planes continue to pound the advancing army. Even though it seems like many goblins are dying, there are just so many of them that it doesn’t seem to matter. Plus, the dragons are keeping the French air support from getting close enough to deal real damage. A dogfight breaks out between the jets and dragons, creating spirals of mist and fire in the blue above us.

The goblins begin to erect siege engines. Several of the engines are destroyed by the air support, but more than enough rise up out of the army and inch towards the wall.

The French air support pulls back.

“They’re out of ordinance,” says Garnet.

Two American Thunderbolt aircraft roar overhead. Their guns sound like the fabric of the world ripping apart—a long, drawn-out “bruuuuup.”

The goblins continue to advance towards the town as the Americans take over from the French on the assault.

“Goblins are tough,” says Garnet, as the army approaches. “I doubt the hits they’re taking will do more than thin them out.”

I have nothing to say. When I joined this game, I had the feeling that I would be seeing something like this, but actually experiencing it is a whole different beast.

“Is there some sort of magic protecting them?” I ask.

“Of course,” says Garnet. “Have you ever seen someone take a rocket to the face and survive without magic?”

“How about Freax?” I say.

“Freax is unique to player characters,” says Garnet. “The NPCs in The Realm use a different kind of magic. Kind of like distilled Freax, but different.”

I tap my fingers impatiently on my bow. The American planes, as they run out of ordinance, draw back. The invasion advances. I can make out the individual mountain trolls. Each one looks to be at least five meters in height.

A frazzled-looking Hob approaches us from the stairs to the wall. “RT,” he says, taking a position near us. “Glad to have you here. We’ll take everything we can get.” He is holding an Israeli Galil. He eyes my bow and arrow. “You’re going mid,” he says. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

“His weapon isn’t actually mid,” says Garnet, with a bit of swagger to her stance. “He uses it aboveground as well.”

“Humph,” says Hob. “So you’re not mid or mod.”

“Um, mid and mod?” I say.

“Medieval and Modern,” says Garnet. “Medieval style weapons like bows and swords have certain advantages against magic and are usually buffed with some sort of in-game ability. However, people can still use modern weapons if they so choose. About a quarter of the players in The Realm are mod, and the rest are mid.”

“I see,” I say. I run my finger along the stave of my bow. I’m pretty unique, as far as Freax users go, as I use this weapon during all my hunts. Most people in the real world use guns, of course. Will I have to face these ‘mid’ players when I have my targets?

“Binder,” says Hob. His binder is decorated with yellow and red racing stripes.

“Cool skin,” says Garnet. “Binder.” Her binder is plain military green.

I did not know that binders could look different. Mine is, of course, plain grey. “Binder,” I say. “Hey, can I have one of these skins?”

Garnet shrugs. “You won’t be able to expense it,” she says.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I say.

Hob chuckles. “So being a government lackey doesn’t pay for everything.”

“Skins are considered extraneous,” says Garnet. “And I’m not a big fan of them anyways. Some X-marines like showing off their skins, but I’m not one of them.”

“Is there, like, a storefront where I can buy a skin?” I ask.

“Yeah, there’s two here in town,” says Hob. “When this is all over, I can show you around.” He looks out over the army of goblins. “But we’ve got a lot of stuff to deal with first.”

“When it comes to combat,” says Garnet, “The Realm isn’t a game. There’s a gold card that can heal some major wounds, but there aren’t that many out there.” She takes a card out of her binder. “Drop.” A crossbow appears in her hand.

“So you’re a mid,” I say.

Garnet nods.

To the west, a number of black dots resolve into the forms of three Abrams tanks, two French AMX tanks, and a number of Bradleys and VABs.

“Looks like the cavalry is here,” says Garnet.

Hob whistles. “Yeah, times like these make me forget how much I hate you military pukes.”

In the distance I hear a distinctive soundtrack playing. Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries.

I sigh. “Are they really?”

Garnet appears to be amused. “They’re really.”

As the volume increases, undercut by the sound of helicopter rotors, I can’t help but let out a small chuckle. There’s no way this wouldn’t happen, right? Those marines saw the chance and took it.

Hob begins to hum along with the melody. Then, the fat lady starts singing. Hundreds of rocket pods flash overhead in a rippling wave of smoke and fire. Explosions rise up to the stratosphere. The violins screech. Two dozen American helicopters blaze overhead. The tanks and IFVs roll across the open desert, spitting plumes of sand out behind them.

“Looks like the boys are spending all my tax dollars,” says Hob.

“You don’t pay taxes in The Realm,” says one of the other players on the wall.

Hob shrugs.

Garnet leans against the crenellation. “Happy Independence Day,” she says.

We watch and listen as the music blazes and the ordinance rains. The whole view is covered in smoke.

The smoke ripples. At the bottom, some shadows slip through. Ten. Twenty. A hundred. Two hundred. A thousand. The goblins leap out of the dust and smoke, close enough to see their frothing mouths and blotched, mottled skin. Three trolls trundle out of the smoke. Ten more follow, dragging clubs the size of sedans.

A single troll comes within the range of the defenders, who open fire. Bullets and arrows ping off of its tough hide. The trolls approach the walls.

One troll smashes the wall to pieces next to where I am standing. Wood particles fly all over the place.

The players surge forward, joining the battle. I enter the fray from the side. Swords and spears are everywhere. Blood splatters my face. A goblin charges me, cackling with the voice of a maniac. This does not seem at all like it’s any form of a game.

The fighting stretches on. Goblins pour into the city through multiple breaches in the wall. Fires jump from rooftop to rooftop. A dragon sprays fire onto the buildings in the town.

An American jet plane soars past and shoots the dragon down. The monster lands in the middle of the town and smashes a couple of buildings, sending up a plume of dust.

Garnet slides up next to me. She is holding twin curved knives at angles to her wrist. I myself have put my bow away and am wielding a short ninjato. Its blade is running with goblin blood.

“Looks like this is the end for South A Town,” says Garnet.

“It had a stupid name, anyways,” I say, trying to make light of the situation.

Garnet slices the arms off of an attacking goblin. “Eh, the game designers could have done better, I agree.” She decapitates another goblin.

“Someone actually designed this game?” I say, as I parry a strike.

“What, you thought The Realm appeared out of nowhere?” says Garnet.

“I didn’t know people actually built it!” I say, as I slash the goblin in front of me.

“Some sort of elder race from another dimension came to ours or something like that,” says Garnet. She kills two goblins in a twirling motion. “They saw that we were making games and made one of their own. Who knows what they were thinking?”

I shrug. The fight continues, and the players are pushed towards the center of town. We take heavy losses.

A flash of light illuminates one of the shops close to the main road. Debris flies everywhere, and out of it rises a blue fire phoenix. The phoenix emits a resonating cry that causes my bones to shiver.

“Someone used a gold card,” says Garnet, baking away from an approaching troll. “Rise of the Water Lord.”

The blue phoenix smashes through the goblins in the city, tossing them up like chaff in the wind. With one of its wings, it slashes a troll in half. It tangles with a dragon and rips the dragon to pieces. Fiery feathers float to the ground.

“What a waste,” says Garnet.

I follow her, backing up, towards where the bulk of the players are making their last stand.

From somewhere behind me, Santa begins to laugh.

“Binder, Ethereal Shield!” yells Garnet. A ring of yellow crosses surrounds us.

The laughter passes overhead, followed by a blast of frigid air. The goblins in the street ahead of us freeze into comically large icicles.

“Nicholas’s Party,” says Garnet. “Another Gold Card.” She releases the barrier around us.

The air feels like we’re in Alaska in the middle of winter. Little snow crystals tinkle to the ground.

More goblins push through their frozen brethren, cackling and waving their crude metal spears. A troll smashes its way past the frozen goblins. The goblin-based icicles shatter in his wake.

Garnet turns, binder in hand, and faces the troll. “Confusion,” she says. A card rises out of her binder and puffs into black smoke.

Yellow balls of energy flit around the goblins and trolls approaching us. They begin to stumble about, careening into buildings.

A train whistle hoots, reverberating across the landscape.

The corners of Garnet’s lips curl up. “We got lucky,” she says. “It’s the Roving Keep.”

Avarice: The Realm chapter three: South A Town

South A Town

Garnet takes me to Fort Lincoln’s fast travel tower. It stands in the center of a military staging area. Five tanks and six helicopters rest along two of the area’s side fending. A couple of marines walk in between the vehicles.

“Do you have your Traveler’s Pass?” says Garnet, walking up to the tower.

“Binder,” I say. My binder appears in front of me. I flip a couple of pages to where I had stowed the Traveler’s Pass card. Only a tiny amount of the space in my binder is being used by the cards that I was given. With the Traveler’s Pass in hand, I walk up to the tower.

“South Dungeon A,” says Garnet. She disappears in a flash of light.

“South Dungeon A,” I say, and the same light picks me up and carries me over the desert landscape. A gigantic tower appears on the horizon, as tall as a skyscraper and maybe a kilometer in diameter. It is decorated with an intense, chaotic geometric pattern.

We land at a fast travel tower not to far from the dungeon’s edge. The FT tower stands in the middle of a small settlement. A single main street is bordered by shops, stores, and what looks to be a saloon.

“Welcome to South A town,” says Garnet.

I look at the dozen or so people meandering about the street. “Are these all players?” I say.

Garnet points at various people in turn. “Those are some Italian soldiers, those are some cazzies in the Square Moon guild, and those are some mercs who work for, I think, Ismex International.” She shrugs. “There are probably a whole bunch more affiliations around here. This is a good place to get used to The Realm. Binder.” Her binder appears in front of her. “I’ll toss you the key to your room. The US Government rents out a number of rooms in every major staging area to make sure that we’re always able to train.” She picks a card from her binder and tosses it to me.

I catch it. It’s just a card that says Key to Room 209 at the Purple Stallion.

“Drop,” I say. The card turns into a key in a puff of smoke. I twirl it about and slip it into my pocket.

“We’ll start grinding tomorrow,” says Garnet. “I’ll leave you to your own devices.” She smiles, and then turns around and walks away.

I remember that I haven’t spent my skill points yet. I was interrupted. “Status,” I say. My status screen appears in front of me.

I look around at things that I can spend my points on, and finally decide to just put them into Dexterity. From what I remember playing tabletop games as a kid, this will allow me to be more reactive and flexible.

I am interested in the saloon. While I don’t drink, it’s a pretty cliché place where interesting things might happen. This is a video game world, after all.

I enter through two saloon doors straight out of a western. There is an ambient music being played through a jukebox in the corner.

No one watches me enter. Along the bar, a number of people are getting drunk.

So, they sell alcohol here in this game? Interesting.

“Binder,” I say. I pull out one of the cards I was given. Gold: 500. “Drop,” I say. I hear a ‘clink’ sound effect, but I see no gold. “Status,” I say. The status screen appears, and at the top right corner, the number ‘500g’ floats. So, this is like electronic money.

I walk up to the bar. I don’t drink, but I do want to taste the flavors of this world. Since asking for something non-alcoholic might not go down well, I’ll just ask for something to eat.

“What can I do ya for?” says the bartender. It is pretty apparent that he is not a human—I think the term was “NPC.”

“What’s your best lunch dish?” I ask.

“I would recommend the smoked cod,” says the man sitting next to me. He is decked out in chainmail and leather, and wears a cowboy hat. His bright red hair flows down to his shoulders.

“Smoked cod it is,” I say, to the NPC bartender.

The bartender grunts, turns around, and then turns towards me with a full dish. The whole sequence takes less than five seconds.

This is a game, after all.

I take a bite of the fish. Good enough.

“Not going to get a drink?” says the man sitting next to me.

“I don’t like alcohol,” I say.

The red-head chuckles. “You look a lot rougher than that,” he says. “Who’s your sponsor?” He is eyeing my equipment.

“The US government,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the government type.”

“I’m more of a freelance special operative associated with the US,” I say.

“Hrmph,” says the man. “Status.” He flicks his finger a few times. “The username’s HobNob. Call me Hob.”

“My name is An—Er, RoundTable,” I say.

“You want to friend me?” says Hob.

“I’m not certain what that means,” I say.

“It means you’ll be able to contact me using the telepathy system,” says Hob.

“Uh, sure,” I say. A little square that says accept friend request? appears in front of me.

I touch it. My status screen changes to show a list named friends online. The number next to it is 1. I should probably friend Garnet before things get too complicated.

Hob takes a shot of whiskey. “You want to play some Reball?” he says.

“Reball?” I say.

“Heh,” says Hob. “It’s sort of like Wizards’ Chess.”

“I think I understand that reference,” I say. I turn to the big table at the center of the room that is covered with terrain like a model train setup. “I assume that’s where the game takes place?”

I suddenly remember one of the cards Garnet gave me. “Binder,” I say. I flip through my binder until I find it.

Reball Starter Kit: Delevians.

I take the card out.

Hob whistles. “As expected of the US military. Always providing their people with the best stuff.”

“This is good stuff?” I say.

“The best starter kit money can buy,” says Hob. “To get better stuff, you have to clear certain quests.” He chuckles. “Binder.” He flips through his binder. It appears to be mostly full. Near the back, he slips a card out and flips it between his fingers. “Let’s see how you stand up to my current army.” He stands, and walks to the table.

I scarf down the rest of my fish.

“Two silver,” says the bartender.

Before I can think it, a gold coin appears in my hand. I toss it to the bartender. The bartender catches it, and flips me back eight silver coins. They go ‘cha-ching,’ and the number representing my gold count now includes eight silver. I turn to Hob.

Hob is setting up a number of miniature figures on one side of the terrain table.

A number of other rough-looking fellows approach the table as well.

“Ah, Hob’s got another newbie on the hook!” says one.

“He’s going to get plastered!” says another.

I hold the Reball Starter Kit: Delevians card in my hand.

“Drop,” I say.

A small wooden box full of miniatures appears on the table.

“I don’t know how to play this,” I say. “You’re going to have to teach me.”

“Binder,” says Hob. He pulls out a card. “Here’s the rule book.” He tosses it to me.

It seems that he does not expect me to actually read the book. “Drop,” I say. I flip through the pages and absorb the information using a Freax technique that I was taught by my master.

“Hah!” says Hob. He appears quite cocky. “Let’s see if you really can read that fast.”

I nod, setting up my army using the combined arms technique.

For the first few turns, I manage my resources and bolster my defenses. I’m not too sure what Hob is going to do. Hob attempts to take a hill that I’m defending, but I manage to push back his attack. He uses several special units to slip through my lines and play havoc with my supply chain, but after a few turns I root them out and stabilize. As I go on the offensive, Hob’s face goes from cocky and filled with bravado to slightly nervous, and then very nervous. The people standing around the table are making a lot of noise—it appears they’re not used to Hob being beaten.

Nothing is riding on this game, of course. Not that I know of. But it still feels quite intense. I close out the game with several trick moves and manage to destroy his base. When the game is over, Hob wipes his forehead.

“You’re quite the Reball player,” he says.

I extend my hand. “So are you.”

Hob shakes my hand. “If you ever want a rematch,” he says, “You know who to contact.”

The saloon doors open. Garnet walks in. “RT!” she says. “What are you doing?”

I shrug. “I got caught up in a game of Reball,” I say.

Garnet sighs. “Yeah,” she says, “Reball is pretty popular among cazzies.”

Hob swaggers over to Garnet. “Who’s this babe, RoundTable?”

Garnet makes a disgusted face. “No one who would give you a second look,” she says, to Hob.

I can’t help but chuckle.

Hob appears taken aback. “You really think you’re better than us?” he says. “Just because you work for the US military?”

Garnet scoffs. “That has nothing to do with the quality of my character.” She turns to me. “Let’s blow this joint.”

Hob looks at me. “Let’s play again sometime.” Then he makes a face at Garnet and turns away.

Garnet drags me out of the bar and into the street. “Hopefully you didn’t get too drunk,” she says.

“I don’t drink,” I say.

“Even better,” says Garnet. She turns down an alleyway and stops in front of a rather modest little building. “This is where we’ll be staying. You and I have separate rooms, of course.”

“I have a question,” I say.

“Ask,” says Garnet.

I open the door to the inn. “How am I supposed to get back to the real world?”

The inside of the inn contains a small dining area, a large fireplace—currently empty—and a counter behind which sit large barrels. An NPC host is standing behind the counter. I see no other players.

I still have my room key in one of the pockets of my armor.

“In order to leave the game,” says Garnet, “You have to buy a ticket on the orient express that pulls through major cities about twice a day.” She sits down at one of the tables in the dining area. “But your contract with the military doesn’t end for quite a while, right?”

I shake my head. “No. I was just curious.” I sit down at the table across from Garnet.

“Now, if I remember correctly,” says Garnet, “You don’t need to be outfitted with any weapons. You conjure your own.”

I shrug. “Mostly, yes,” I say. “Like I said, I’m a transition metal conjurer.”

“And that means that you can conjure bows, swords, and arrows?” asks Garnet.

“Definitely,” I say. “I can also do guns, but they usually don’t turn out very reliably. Sometimes they’ve exploded on me.”

“Understandable,” says Garnet. “The accuracy of conjuration doesn’t often match what can be done with tools.”

A server comes up to the table with a plate of food. Garnet takes it and begins to eat. After a moment she looks up. “If you want something, just go and order it.”

“I already ate,” I say.

Garnet shrugs and continues to eat. The atmosphere is silent, and the only activity is the NPC server starting up the fireplace. The rest of the day follows mostly uneventfully, and I retire to my room soon after.

Later that night, as I take a break from my daily exercise routine, I summon my binder and flip through the cards that Garnet has given me. Most of them appear to be spells that do things to hinder my opponents. I have to remember, though, that my opponents will use spells like theses against me. I must be ready to face that. I finish my training regimen and spend the rest of my waking hours practicing my conjuration.

I wake up to the sound of an alarm. Garnet bursts into my room, wearing her full suit of armor.

“Looks like South A Town has been randomly selected to be the site of a PVP event!”

Avarice: The Realm chapter two: Fort Lincoln

Fort Lincoln

I materialize in an open field that stretches out in every direction. To the north, a fiery landscape of volcanoes curbs the horizon. To the east, a deep, thick jungle encroaches on the grass. To the south, a desert. To the west, an abandoned, post-apocalyptic city.

The starting valley is adorned with four towers, one in each of the cardinal directions.

Garnet is leaning against one of the towers.

“Binder,” she says, holding out her hand. A binder appears in a puff of smoke, floating above her hand. She takes a card out of one of the card slots inside it, flipping it around in the sunlight. She tosses it to me, expertly.

“This is a black card,” she says. “Traveler’s pass. It allows you to use fast travel locations like these—” she knocks her knuckles against the pillar—“which can be pretty helpful to get around.” She crosses her arms.

A couple of players materialize behind me. Apparently they are a group, and as they pass us, they quiet down. Garnet waves.

“Those are probably cazzies,” she says.

“Cazzies?” I say.

“Casual players. Not affiliated with any major government or organization. We do business with them, but they’re pretty much on their own.”

The group of cazzies gets far enough away that their voices fade. Garnet surveys the landscape.

“The Gatewatch knows who I am,” she says, her eyes flickering. “They won’t bother us.”

“I see,” I say. “So, where is our base of operations?”

“Just a minute,” says Garnet. She pulls out a card identical to the one she tossed at me.

“Say ‘binder’ and your card binder will appear,” she says.

“Binder,” I say. A binder appears in front of me. It is empty and unadorned. There is a space that says “no name.”

“We can get you a username later,” says Garnet, as she flips the Traveler’s Pass between her fingers. She taps the obelisk. “Fort Lincoln,” she says. A pillar of light surrounds her, and she is gone.

I tap the obelisk while holding the pass. “Fort Lincoln,” I say. My body is surrounded by light again, and I feel weightless. The ground lifts away, and I watch as the world unravels beneath me. I pass two cities on my way to the middle of the desert area. Scattered around the landscape are towers that are identical to the one that transported me.

I land at a tower that looks slightly different than the others. It stands in the middle of a military base that is reminiscent of those in desert regions in the real world. This is obviously an American military installation. Marine “Freaks”—soldiers with Freax abilities—wander around the installation, working out, chatting, and doing their business. The government has obviously put a lot of resources into this game. Garnet is leaning against a canvas tent.

“So,” I say, pointing to the row of tanks and helicopters. “How did you get those in here?”

“This game is egregiously pay-to-win,” says Garnet, with a half smile. “And a government has a lot of money to spend.” She motions toward me. “Come. I need to outfit you.”

We walk towards the only concrete building in the whole base. Garnet keys us in and, after a blast of cooled air, we walk through the halls to a large, library-like room filled with shelves. Each shelf has thousands of cards stacked on it. I approach one and pick up a card that reads “small canteen.” It contains a picture of a standard military-issue canteen.

Garnet smiles at me. “Say ‘drop,’” she says.

“Drop,” I say. The card poofs, and a real canteen, just like the picture, appears in my hands.

Garnet nods. “Objects can be turned into cards for easy transport and storage.” She picks up a card that reads MRE, Chicken Quesadilla Menu, tossing it at me.

“Eat up. You’re hungry, right?” she says.

I catch the card. “Sort of,” I say. “Drop.”

A standard-issue MRE appears in my hands. I tear it open, and use the water from the canteen I just “dropped” to activate the meal heater.

“Normally you would eat in the mess,” says Garnet, as she walks among the racks. “But this is a good way to get you used to the game.” She takes a few cards from the rack. “As well as objects, there are also cards that contain spells. They are usually one-time-use and do anything except directly harm another player.”

The MRE is better than I remember from my own basic training. Perhaps the recipe has changed?

While I eat, I watch Garnet move through the racks, picking up cards from their places. She chooses about two dozen of them. Walking to a small game table in one corner of the room, she beckons me over.

I sit across from her.

Garnet spreads the cards across the table. “These cards can do many things,” she says, “But you’ll have to rely on your own Freax power to actually close the deal when it comes to your targets.” She takes one card and flips it. “For example. Lightning Cage.” She points to the card. “This card is a staple. It surrounds the target with a cage made out of electricity for about fifteen seconds. That could give you enough time to close in on them.”

I take the card. “And I can only use it once?” I say.

“Yes,” says Garnet. “Don’t worry about its cost. We’re an official branch of the military, with all the funding that entails.” She takes another card and flips it.

“Another example. Counterspell. This card can stop another card’s effects if used fast enough.” She passes it to me, along with about a dozen more cards. “Learn how all of these cards work. They’re all very common here in The Realm.”

I take the stack of cards and look at them individually. The artwork on the cards is quite well done. It reminds me of the card games I sometimes see kids playing in the streets or at the library.

I take out a card that looks interesting to me. Slow. Apparently it slows my target’s movement for a short amount of time.

“I have a question,” I say, placing all my cards neatly in a stack. “Are there monsters here?”

“Of course,” says Garnet. “This is a game, after all. What would it be without monsters?”

“Are they dangerous?” I say.

Garnet chuckles. “You can call them that. Someone of your caliber may not find the low-level mobs dangerous. But there are some beasts that not even a tank platoon with air support can take down.”

“Yikes,” I say. I look at a tank rolling past through a window. “If you have tanks here, how do the, um, cazzies handle the bigger monsters?”

Garnet laughs. “There are a lot of very powerful people playing this game. If you don’t know how to handle yourself, you will die.”

I flip a card around between my fingers. “And these cards work on monsters too.”

Garnet shrugs.

I put the card down. “Looks like I signed on for something strange,” I say. I stand up. “Should I be wearing some sort of armor? I saw those cazzies wearing what looked like reproduction equipment from the middle ages.”

“Yeah,” says Garnet, “All the armor and weapons that appear naturally in this game are based around medieval armor from around the world. Most have some sort of magic ability. You’d be surprised how little a gun can do against a ‘plus-six’ set of anjab armor.”

“Anjab …” I say. I shake my head. “I would prefer a bulletproof vest, if that’s not a problem.”

“Eventually you may find something you like,” says Garnet, as she stands up. “We can get you fitted now if you’re ready.”

“Do you have any of this … ‘plus six anjab” armor?” I say.

“One set,” says Garnet. “But it’s being used. The real-world value of a full set is about one hundred million dollars.”

“A hundred …” I say. I whistle. “And objects here have real world value.”

“With anjab, it’s not the value that keeps us from acquiring some. It’s the rarity. There’s just not may people willing to sell their anjab sets. Or their ‘plumage,’ ‘rastafa,’ or ‘taliax’ sets.”

“Those names make no sense,” I say.

“It’s a game,” says Garnet. “Get used to it.” She walks to a series of shelves containing cards that are arranged facing outwards. Each set of armor represented by the cards is in its own little nook. I browse the sets. There are samurai sets, knight sets, Arabic sets, and Viking sets. Every culture in the medieval world is represented. On a whim, I pick up the chest plate of some red samurai armor.

“Ah, you’ve picked a good one,” says Garnet, looking over my shoulder. “Cherry Tree Plus Two. This particular one is a legendary set with ‘angel slayer’ and ‘worm chaser’ buffs.”

“Explain that,” I say.

“This armor has been worn by players who have defeated the ‘Bloody Archangel’ and ‘Driving Worm’ dungeon bosses,” says Garnet. “Thus, it gets some bonuses.”

I flip the card in my hand. “Interesting,” I say. “Drop.”

A large set of armor appears on my person. Everything is in place, even the straps, which look to be tied with a special kind of oriental knot.

“Here’s a mirror if you need it,” says Garnet, wheeling a large stand-up mirror from a nook.

I look at myself. Not bad. Maybe I could reconsider the simple bulletproof vest. I certainly look like someone from a period drama. I pick up the rest of the suit’s cards and ‘drop’ them onto my person.

I can deal with this. The armor is surprisingly light and easy to move in. I turn to the right and left, reaching behind myself.

“I think we’ve just decided your class as well,” says Garnet. “Kenshi.”

“Swordsman?” I say.

“No, Kenshi,” says Garnet. “There’s a difference. Kenshi fight without shields. Thus, most of your level-up points will go into straight sword skills.”

“Can’t I just use a gun?” I ask.

“You’d be surprised at how many ways there are to make a gun obsolete,” says Garnet. “Even a one hundred and twenty millimeter cannon can’t be guaranteed to kill a high level player with a direct hit.”

“That’s some powerful Freax,” I say.

“Not exactly,” says Garnet. “The power is based on Freax, but it doesn’t manifest like Freax outside the game world. Players have the Freax powers they bring with them, and they also have the game abilities that they earn inside The Realm.” Garnet holds up her hand. “Status,” she says. A semi-transparent sheet appears in front of her, covered in symbols.

“Since you haven’t played many video games recently,” she says, as she manipulates the sheet, “We’ll have to teach you how status screens work from scratch.”

“I think I know how they work,” I say.

“Do you?” says Garnet. She flicks her finger and the clear screen goes away. “Try spending your two level one skill points.”

“Status,” I say. The screen appears in front of me. I flick my finger around to move it. I see a little button that says skills. I press it. A skill sheet appears in front of me.

“You won’t be able to choose your class until level five,” says Garnet, “But for now you can give yourself a name. Careful, though, as names can only be changed with name stones, and those are expensive.”

Enter name:  “Andrew Dayne.”

Garnet scoffs. “Try not to use your real name. That way, you won’t be retaliated against in the real world.”

Enter name: “ProfessionalKiller.”

That name is already taken.

I frown.

“Try not to be too obvious, either,” says Garnet. “And remember that this game has millions of unique players.”

Enter name: “RoundTable.”

Name accepted. Hello, ROUNDTABLE.

Garnet shrugs. “Good enough. I’ll call you RT from here on out.” She holds up her finger. “Display.” A name floats above her head.

CRYSTALGOBLET.

“So I’ll call you Crystal,” I say.

Garnet winks. “Glad you get it.” She looks at my reflection in the mirror. “I think we’re good with your equipment. Binder.” Her binder appears. “Equip: set two.” Leather armor appears on her body in a flash of light. A bow and a quiver full of arrows rests on her back. She taps the quiver. “I’m a thief class. We probably won’t be working together much, but sometimes we might.” She tilts her head. “And that’s all I’m going to have to tell you.”

A higher officer approaches us from the entryway. I salute.

“Sir,” I say.

The officer returns my salute. “Andrew Dayne,” he says. “You’re needed for the briefing for your first mission.”

“Already, sir?” I say.

The officer shrugs. “I don’t call the shots. If it were me, I’d give you some time to get used to this hell hole of a game.” He does a sharp about-face. “Follow me. The HQ building is this way.”

I follow him through series of halls until we reach a briefing room. It’s a little warmer in here, and a projector is displaying something on the far wall. Maybe something left over from the last briefing.

“I heard you’re one of the top Freax agents,” says the officer, as he gets to the podium with the computers. “We follow what we call ‘Video Game’ procedure here. That means our agents get a lot more freedom to do things their way than would be the norm in the real world.” He extends his hand. “My name is Pierre.”

“Andrew,” I say, shaking his hand.

Pierre clicks a few times on his computer and a new power point slide appears on the wall. It’s a picture, appearing to have been taken in The Realm.

“This is your first target,” says Pierre. “He’s a tough one. We’ve sent three agents in after him, and he’s killed all of them.”

I tap my fingers on the table. “So that’s why I was brought here all of a sudden,” I say.

“Mostly, yes,” says Pierre. “You’re the best at what you do. We won’t tell you how to do your job. You just need to kill him.”

“Question,” I say. “Can’t we just kill him with a remote strike?”

“No,” says Pierre. “His magic is too strong. He’s a level ninety in game and has many layers of protection.”

“And you’re sending me,” I say, “A level one, to fight him?”

“They said you were the best,” says Pierre. “I don’t doubt it will take you more than a couple of weeks to reach level fifty.”

“So I won’t be going after him until I reach a comparable level.”

“Right,” says Pierre. “We’re not sending you on a suicide mission.”

“I get it,” I say. “I just need to grind levels until I can compare to his power.”

“Exactly,” says Pierre. “He is an electromancer. He can generate large amounts of electric energy and produce entire thunderstorms. Electric devices don’t work near him if he doesn’t want them to. He’s a mage class, which bolsters his natural Freax ability as well.”

I nod. “Okay. I’m used to dealing with people with powerful abilities. Electromancers aren’t my specialty, but I can handle them.” I conjure a small chip of metal and flip it between my fingers—it’s something I do when I’m thinking.

“What kind of metal is that?” asks Pierre.

I hold the chip out in my hand. “I’m not sure. It’s the most comfortable blend of stuff I can produce. I do it to fidget.”

“Let me see it,” says Pierre.

I hand it to him.

“So you’re a metalmancer,” Pierre says.

“Not exactly,” I say. “I’m a transition metal conjurer.”

“Transition metals,” says Pierre. “Like, the middle of the periodic table?”

“Plus lanthanides and actinides,” I say.

“You can conjure uranium,” says Pierre.

“I can,” I say. “It makes me very hungry though.”

“I see,” says Pierre. “How is someone with your valuable powers in a role this dangerous?”

“I enjoy my job,” I say.

Pierre purses his lips. “You’re the assassin type.”

I shrug.

Pierre turns to the screen. “Well. You’re going to be power leveling with Garnet for the next two weeks to prepare you for this job. I see you are already wearing your equipment.”

“It’s pretty comfortable, actually,” I say. I tap the surface of my breastplate.

“Great. Glad that you like it.” Pierre pauses. “That particular set is quite valuable.”

“Is it?” I say, lifting up one of the fabric corners.

“Several thousand gold, at least,” says Pierre.

“Gold?” I say.

“The current exchange rate is about ten dollars to one gold,” says Pierre. He turns to the projector. “Anyways. You’ll be training in the dungeon complex closest to Fort Lincoln. It’s a mid-range dungeon that should have enough monsters of middling level to get you to fifty in two weeks.” He clicks the projector off. “Garnet will handle you from here.”

Garnet enters the room and leans against the wall. “Ready?” she says.

“Ready,” I say.