The Cryptic Command Chapter 2

Chapter 2

B-408 (Scoob)’s Memory

//A note to the reader: the change of tense is intentional. 

The day I was born I was preparing for battle. Raised from an embryo in a tube, my entire purpose for being was to fight.

After half a year of training and forced growth, I was shipped off to the front lines.

I stepped out of the transport walker, steam hissing around me, three dozen of my identical brethren carrying their equipment.

“Those clunkers are going to get what’s coming to them!” said Sergeant A-12, known as “Bucky.”

That’s what we were there for. To fight the golems of the Malthuxians and defeat the Dark Ones.

The staging ground was filled with soldiers milling about. All of them were kithkin, my brethren from the same seed. We carried charge rifles and wore blue armor and helmets that covered our faces.

We all looked identical anyways, so that wasn’t a problem.

Bucky blew his whistle. “Squad seventeen,” he said.

The five of us in squad seventeen collected in front of Bucky.

“We have an important mission today,” he said. Me motioned to a feline standing with her arms crossed beside a box of supplies.

“That’s General Maki,” said Bucky. “She’s a Yedai. She’ll be with us to observe the coming battle.”

Maki scoffed, turning her head away. Her eyes showed an obvious disdain for us.

I stayed professional, like my training had taught me. However, something in me felt that General Maki was making light of us.

Bucky waved his arm. “Our mission is to protect her,” he said. “It’s either us or them. With her on our side, it’s going to be them.”

I turned to C-1020, known as “Serge.”

“Do you think she hates us?” I asked.

Serge shrugged. “Not my job, Scoob.”

My name, among my squad, was Scoob. Along with Serge and I, there was F-289, “Bord,” V-287, “Hammer,” and L-10, “Rye.”

Rye was the heavy weapons specialist. His arms were crossed, the rocket launcher on his back. “Our job is to do what we’re told,” he said.

Hammer put his hand on his sword. He, being the squad’s swordsman, had been grown with the most intelligence out of anyone in the squad. He needed it, as he was the only one among us to be able to use magic. He was our insurance against the enemy magicians.

Bullets did nothing against magic shields, but swords were effective. Thus, hammer doubled as our anti-magic suite.

Bord carried the squad’s explosives and other supplies. He was a big, heavyset kithkin whose only resemblance to us normal grunts was his face. His muscles bulged compared to us, and his armor was about fifty percent bigger than ours.

Serge frowned. “I don’t feel right working with Yedai,” he whispered to me. “They’re too powerful. They scare me.”

I thought so too, but I was unable to respond, as Bucky saluted and brought Maki over to us.

Maki crossed her furry arms and grimaced at us. “You lot are going to be my shield,” she said. “Don’t screw this up. I have ways to punish those who don’t work their hardest.

We stayed silent. There was nothing to say to someone who was so clearly above our rank.

Bucky slapped his rifle. “We’re going to bring Maki to a special shrine hidden in the Black Mountains that swarming with clunkers. The Malthuxians control most of the territory in that area. However, the contents of the shrine are especially valuable.”

Maki tapped her foot on the staging area. “Just do your job and no one will get hurt.”

I rubbed my temples. Something seemed to be causing a headache in between my eyes. The world went dizzy for a bit, and then snapped back into focus.

I turned to Serge. “Did you feel that?” I said.

“Eh,” said Serge. “Something’s off.”

I felt a quick flicker into blackness, and then my senses returned.

“… And if any of you slow me down, you’re going to suffer the consequences,” said Maki. She turned away from us. “Where’s the gunship?”

A Federation gunship appeared from behind a cloud and hovered in position over us. Its long, swept wings held rocket boosters that sent air swirling around underneath it. Painted with white and black, it appeared like a swan of death, armed with guns at every angle and missiles hanging underneath its hard points.

I had been trained on how to board one of these.

Maki was the last one on. When the whole squad was ready, we lifted off.

We flew over open fields towards the mountain range that slept on the horizon.

Over the city of Rochester, owned by the Malthuxians, we began taking flak. Explosions popped into existence around our ship.

“We’ve been outed,” said Bucky, donning his helmet.

A flak shell burst dangerously close to our gunship.

“You better not crash this ship!” said Maki, her hair blowing in the wind.

Bucky turned on his jump jets. “There’s nothing we can do if we do crash,” he said. “We’re far behind enemy lines.”

“They shouldn’t have known we were coming!” said Maki. “I’ll kill whoever ratted us out.”

“It wasn’t one of us,” said Bucky. “There’s no way we would go against our training.”

Maki drew her sword. “You better not be lying to me.”

She’s paranoid too? I thought. This wasn’t going to be an easy mission.

Another flak shell burst dangerously close. We went through the smoke cloud, and came out the other side with a flaming fuel tank.

“Prepare for crash landing,” said the pilot. He reached up and pulled a couple of levers.

Maki withdrew her sword. “If one person gets out of this alive, it’s going to be me.”

Bucky held up his hand. “Are you jump jets tuned?”

“Jump jets?” said Maki. “I can’t wear something stupid like that!”

The gunship shook with a dangerous rumble. We began to lose altitude.

“Get your jets on!” yelled Bucky.

I tuned my own jump jets.

“Bail!” yelled Bucky.

Serge was the first off. His jets engaged and he flew out of sight.

Next was Bord. His jets fired and he was off.

Maki seemed to be thinking. Her eyes flickered, and she grabbed Bucky aside.

“What the hell?” she said. “I wasn’t given one of those!”

“If you remember, sir,” said Bucky, “You were given one in training!”

Maki scoffed. “Well I don’t have one now. What are we going to do?”

“We have a spare,” said Bucky. He opened a compartment and grabbed a spare jump jet. “Wear this.”

Maki grabbed it and tried putting it on.

In the meantime, Rye jumped. Another ball of flak exploded close to the ship.

Maki went to the ship’s open doorway. Just as she was about to jump, her jets malfunctioned, spitting streams of charged particles.

Bucky grabbed her, but in the chaos they both tumbled off the ship. Bucky and Maki disappeared behind the ship.

I turned to Hammer. He shook his head, and then jumped.

It was just the pilot and me. I turned to the cockpit and was about to say something when I saw the blood splatters on the window.

He was gone.

I gave silent prayer, and then jumped. My jump jets activated and I landed softly on the ground in the middle of a field.

I could see where my comrades had landed on my tracking device. I struck off in the direction of Bucky and Maki.

After ten minutes, I arrived at their landing site. Maki was kneeling beside a prone Bucky. Blood covered Bucky’s armor.

“He’s gone,” said Hammer, stepping out from behind a stone wall. He went up to Bucky, kneeling beside him.

Maki stood up and brushed off her hands. “You guys are disposable,” she said. “Just be lucky I wasn’t the one who died. If I were, you wouldn’t have a future to look forward to.”

I kept my opinions to myself. A huge headache began, and my ears rang with a distant siren. After a bout of nausea, I returned to normal.

Nothing seemed out of place. Maki turned away from us.

“Can you guys figure out how we’re getting to our destination?” she said.

Serge came running from between the trees. “They know where we are,” he said. “We need to move.”

“We haven’t accounted for Bord or Rye,” I said.

Bord’s voice came from close by. “I’m here,” he said. He limped into the clearing, blood trailing from his leg.

“If you hold us back we’re leaving you behind,” said Maki.

Bord grunted. “I’m strong enough to work through a simple flesh wound.”

“Did you see Rye?” I asked.

Bord shook his head. “I don’t know. He could have been captured.”

“We should wait for him,” said Hammer.

“I’ll overrule that,” said Maki. “We’re leaving now. If I get captured, there’s no saying what will happen to our war effort.”

I turned away. “Yes, sir,” I said. It was ingrained in me to follow my superiors, without asking questions.

Maki flicked her fingers and Bucky’s body disintegrated into dust. I felt a little bit of a headache returning, but I chalked it up to the shock from the landing.

We headed towards the mountains. Since we were in the middle of enemy territory, we had to move carefully. We hacked our way through the underbrush until night fell.

As we sat around the campfire, Maki said nothing, staring off into the distance. Her face appeared a bit fuzzy, but I could tell that she was deep in thought.

Bord offered Maki some food. She slapped him away. “I’m not hungry,” she said.

Bord retracted his hand and went to sit on a log. The atmosphere was subdued. There was no talking.

Hammer made a motion and Bord put out the fire. We knelt down as some lights came from the east.

“That’s a search party,” said Bord. “They must be searching around our crash site.”

“We’re far from it,” said Maki.

“They probably used magic to follow our trail,” said Hammer.

Maki snorted. “Those primitives probably can’t even use magic to boil water.”

“Are you sure you’re not underestimating them?” said Hammer.

Maki shrugged. “They’re a bunch of idiots. The lot of them.”

“Underestimating an enemy will get us killed,” said Serge.

“I’m your superior officer,” said Maki, “And I order you to shut up about that.”

Serge looked at Hammer, and the two of them knelt down.

“We should take the fight to them,” said Bord. “Ambush them when they don’t know we’re here.”

Maki shook her head. “No, that won’t work.” She paused. “I know! We can set a trap for them and use the darkness to sneak up on them.”

“That’s exactly what I was suggesting—” Bord was cut off.

“You’re talking back?” said Maki. “It was my idea. You’re just a grunt. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

I felt a bit of that headache coming back, but the feeling passed.

Looking towards where the lights of the search party were, I gave Bord a nod.

Maki flicked her fingers and her body became shadow. “You guys go ahead of me,” she said. “While you’re distracting them, I’ll cast magic arrow and kill them all.”

Bord nodded. We approached the search party in the darkness, using the starlight as our guide.

“Are you sure they went this way?” said a man’s voice.

“I’m sure,” said voice that was filled with deep, velvety dread. “My magic does not fail.”

Uh oh, I thought. We’re up against a big guy.

Bord held up his hand. “Fire on my mark.”

Maki, surprisingly, didn’t argue. We took surrounding positions and zeroed in our sights. The silence was unbearable.

“Wait,” said the evil voice. “I sense something.”

“Hya!” yelled Maki, as she burst out of the shrubs and into the middle of the group. She sent a wave of force out in all directions around her, spreading the enemy squad out. The normal soldiers all collapsed to the ground.

I joined my squad in combat, opening fire on the stunned enemies.

The Dark One, the man with the evil voice, stood up in the midst of the chaos. His aura filled my entire body with dread. I could not see his face, but the scent of apples and roast beef radiated from his countenance—a smell that, contradicting its components, awakened in me a fear that I did not know I could experience.

I staggered backwards. This was not a man I wanted to mess with.

“Have at it!” yelled Maki, as she grabbed Bord with a force grip and tossed him at the Dark One. Bord’s body was ripped in two by the Dark One’s blade, but he was distracted.

Maki used that distraction and closed in, blades twirling.

The last thing I saw before the battle was her grinning face, so blurred that I could not make out her eyes.

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 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.

The Adventurers of Moray: Book Two Chapter Two: Restaraunt

Restaurant

The aftermath of the sniper attack is only slightly more prolonged than the attack itself. Mandrake summons a sheet of glass to replace the broken one and puts it in place with a couple of slaps. The broken glass pieces are shoved into a trash bin and I am the one to carry it into the street.

Mandrake grins. “That damn bastard. The sniper was probably hired by the Darks to give us a scare.” He holds the bullet he caught between two fingers up to the light. “But I must say, using pure gold bullets sure stinks of petty overspending.”

As he says, the bullet is indeed made of gold.

“Well,” says Mandrake. “At least we know that the Darks have a good source of funding. But we could have guessed that, right?”

I nod. “Can I see the bullet?”

“Sure,” says Mandrake, dropping the solid gold nugget into my hand. It is a lot heavier than I thought it would be. Since it was caught perfectly between two fingers, it hasn’t been deformed much by impact.

“Can I keep this?” I ask.

Mandrake chuckles. “Sure. Though I don’t know what a kid who can easily buy as much gold as they desire would do with a tiny nugget like this. For me this is a lot but for you? No.” He pauses. “It would take some serious capital to buy enough of these to win in a sustained firefight. Plus, it’s just wasteful.”

I cup the gold bullet in my hand. It is warm.

Mandrake rummages through a bin and pulls out a sheet of metal.

“This is a prototype I’m working on,” he says. He hands it to me. “Since you’re the metals expert here, I was wondering what you’d think of it.”

I rub my thumb along the metal. “It’s fine,” I say. To tell the truth, I actually do not know as much about metal as Mandrake seems to think I do.

Though I have studied up a lot in my quest to find a way to teach those conjurers Crayton hired for me.

“Good,” says Mandrake. He takes the sheet and tacks it to the window with nails. Now the only light in the room is coming from a desk lamp. Mandrake sits in the recliner properly this time. He takes out a cigar and cuts it. After a thorough examination, he lights it with an antique lighter. After a single puff he lets it hang out of his fingers.

“I trust you have a strong conscience,” says Mandrake. “You were able to avoid causing trouble even with the huge amount of resources at your disposal.”

“Um, I’m not sure they’re so huge,” I say.

Mandrake takes another puff of his cigar. “Nonsense. You are the master of the entire contents of an S-class portal. Including the bosses. With that power you could conquer the world.”

I shake my head. “But I don’t want to.”

“Exactly,” says Mandrake. “However, your power makes you a sought-after figure. Everyone will want you to be on their side, and they will offer very tempting things in return.”

Besides reviving Alice, which I don’t think anyone would be able to do, I really don’t know what I want deep down inside. I just want to relax and enjoy life while I have it.

Mandrake stands up from the chair and walks to the kitchen. He is still holding his cigar.

“I was going to offer you something to eat,” he says, “But this safe house hasn’t been restocked in a while.” He opens the fridge. “All we have is a couple of microwave dinners.”

I shake my head, and then turn to Sebastian. “What’s the fanciest restaurant in London?”

Sebastian seems to think for a moment. Then he smiles. “A restaurant opened not too long ago that serves conjured meals. They recently gained their third Michelin Star.” He puts his finger to his temple. “I think it was called ‘Conjuratus.’”

I grin. “Great,” I say. “Let’s take Mandrake there.”

Mandrake walks out of the kitchen. “So, do you want something to eat or not?” He looks between me and Sebastian. “What?”

“We’re going to take you out to eat,” I say.

“Well then!” says Mandrake. “I hope it’s somewhere not too expensive!”

“We’re heading to Conjuratus,” I say.

Mandrake’s eyes open wide. “I would love to,” he says. “Are you sure you want to be spending that kind of money on me?”

“You’re a silverbones,” I say. “Don’t you have a lot of money anyways?”

Mandrake shakes his head. “No. As a matter of fact, I make just enough money to live on.”

I am confused. With his power, he could be doing anything, making a ton of money.

Mandrake tilts his head. “I see you’re confused. It’s just a personal creed of mine. I’m very against the idea of wealth.” He shrugs. “But I can’t refuse the kindness of others, either.” He smiles. “Let’s go!”

Sebastian leads Mandrake and I through the building until we reach the street. Our limo is already pulled up next to the sidewalk. Sebastian opens the doors for Mandrake and me. I get in first.

Mandrake sits down.

I open the mini fridge. “Do you like alcohol?” I ask.

Mandrake raises an eyebrow. “What’s a minor like you doing with vintage whiskeys?”

“There’s also brandies and gin,” says Sebastian, from the front seat.

“I’ll take the gin,” says Mandrake. He grabs a bottle of gin and pours himself a glass. Glancing at me, he smiles. “Well, I suppose you need something to drink as well.”

I open the hidden fridge and pull out a diet root beer, popping it open with a snap.

Mandrake chuckles. “Diet root beer. Good choice, lad.”

Sebastian sighs from the front seat. Yeah, yeah. Diet root beer isn’t exactly suited for a rich young prince like me. Appearances and all that. I take a guilty sip of the beverage and set it down on the table with high edges.

Mandrake watches the cars beside us, not saying a word. I am left wondering what he is thinking.

“You haven’t told me directly,” I say, “But what’s the purpose of the Silverbones?”

“Immortality,” says Mandrake. “Or, at least, the search for it.” He sighs. “Plus a lot of other things. Look, lad. Don’t worry about what we do before you’ve made a decision.”

“But it’s obvious what I want to do,” I say. “I’m no bad guy.”

“So they all say,” says Mandrake. “I’m not counting on your presence until after the Darks contact you. We’ll see how moral you are after you’re presented with their offer.”

We pull into the parking lot of Conjuratus. It’s a fancy building in the London suburbs that is decorated as one would expect a high-class restaurant to look.

Sebastian opens the door for me, and I step out. Mandrake follows.

Sebastian bows. “I will not be accompanying you this time,” he says. He hands me a card. “Here is the method of payment.”

It looks like a simple debit card. I shrug and put it in my pocket.

“That’s a British Express Platinum, my boy,” says Mandrake. He seems genuinely impressed.

I take the card back out of my pocket and examine it. It doesn’t look that special to me. Sure, it’s shiny and has good build, but I would expect that of any payment plastic. I place it back in my pocket.

Mandrake chuckles, and then turns to the entrance of the restaurant. “This will be the first time I’ve eaten high-class conjured food,” he says.

We both step in. I am dressed sharply—it’s been a habit of mine ever since I realized I could—and, of course, Mandrake is wearing a black suit and fedora. We are dressed for the establishment.

A waiter approaches us.

“Reservation for Mr. Red, correct?” he says.

I nod.

“Right this way, gentlemen,” says the waiter. He leads us to a rather private table near the back of the establishment. I can catch a glimpse of the kitchen from here.

We both sit down. The waiter hands us our menus.

I read through it and decide to try the Duck Flambe.

“So, what are you going to have?” I say, to Mandrake.

“Just a steak,” says Mandrake. “I’m not very used to establishments like this.”

“Neither am I,” I say. “But I suppose at chances like this I have to try something brave.”

“That’s a good way to think about it,” says Mandrake, as he puts his menu down. He folds his hands and rests his elbows on the table.

“I have to ask,” he says. “Do you know where your money is coming from?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” I say. “I just accept the fact that the portal beings working for me aren’t causing too much trouble.”

“Hrm,” says Mandrake. “You also have your Rearden Metal, right?” he says.

I nod.

Mandrake crosses his arms. “It’s normal for any human who has absorbed a multi-thousand-year ring to manifest many special powers. Entrance to the Silverbones requires absorption of at least a five-thousand-year spirit,” he says. He taps his finger on the table. “I myself have acquired a twelve-thousand-year spirit. I was originally the owner of an organic compound manifestation. A certain polymer that doesn’t have an official name. I was assigned to be an adventurer because I could use the polymer to create shields.”

“So you’re a tank-class,” I say.

“Correct,” says Mandrake. “And I manifested a wide range of powers having to do with plastics and organic compounds. That metal sheet I showed you is actually an organometal.”

I whistle. “I should try making something like that.”

Mandrake chuckles. “I don’t doubt you could. Rearden Metal and my creation are in different classes, but both are strong.”

The waiter comes to the table and we order. After the waiter leaves, Mandrake folds his hands.

“So, you’re here in London for just another month, right?” Mandrake says.

I nod. “Just long enough to teach the conjurers Esmex hired to produce Rearden Metal.”

Mandrake sighs. “I don’t know if that will come to good or not, but it’s part of my personal creed to neve profit from what I can produce.”

I shake my head. “I don’t really want to profit,” I say. “I just want to be useful to the world.”

“Well, that’s noble of you,” says Mandrake, with a small smile.

The waiter arrives with our dinners.

“That was quick!” says Mandrake, as the food is placed on the table.

The waiter gives a professional smile. “All our food is conjured in its final form by our head chef.”

I look at the beautiful duck roast in front of me. As the waiter leaves, I take a bite, making sure to adhere to the English etiquette I was taught not long ago.

There is a loud screech and a crash. A car comes barreling through the front of the restaurant and smashes the wall, sending tables and dishes flying.

A couple seconds of silence pass. The car doors open and a gigantic, beefy man with Schwarzenegger-class muscles steps out. He is holding a chaingun.

“Get down!” yells Mandrake, as he tips the table in the direction of the attacker. He forms a semi-clear barrier of organic material between us and the gunman.

The gun opens fire, sounding less like individual bullets and more like the tearing of a cosmic sheet of paper. Screams are everywhere. Broken dishes and tracer rounds fly all over the place. One of the restaurant goers seems to be an adventurer and tries to fight back. Before he can take out his weapon, he is turned into a fine red mist.

“Damn Ronald,” says Mandrake, as he crouches behind the table and his shield.

“Is that his name?” I say, as I watch the restaurant explode.

Hundreds of bullets are pinging against Mandrake’s shield.

Mandrake’s face is deadly serious. “Yes. He’s not someone you want to mess with.” He pauses. “Not that anyone in the Darks is to begin with.”

The chain gun is still firing. I’m pretty sure that, by now, everyone in the room is dead. And yet the gun keeps firing.

Finally, the chain gun stops. All that is left is the sound of it spinning, and then that stops.

Ronald takes a couple of steps towards us, shells clinking beneath his feet. He stops in the middle of the room.

“Come out, come out!” he says, with a thick German accent. His eyes lock on us. He grins. “We need to borrow little Markus for a moment,” he says. “If you don’t turn him over,” Ronald holds up a bomb detonator, “I will put a hole in this street. Many people will die!”

“You’ve already killed enough,” says Mandrake. “Why do you want to kill more?”

“Kill?” says Ronald. “I do not kill. I stomp. I crush. I flatten.” He turns the chain gun towards us. It begins to spin again.

Mandrake whispers to me. “If he directs the gun against my shield, I won’t be able to hold long.” He cringes. “I’m going to have to let you go. They won’t kill you or torture you. You’re too valuable.”

I shake my head. “I have an idea.” I reach into my personal dimension and find the stone golem boss from the S-class portal. It’s still there. When I see it in my mind’s eye, it stands up from a sitting position and kneels before me.

“Master,” it says.

I snap my fingers.

A white portal appears on the restaurant floor, covering several broken tables and dead bodies. The golem begins to rise from the ground. First its head, then its shoulders. When it is at its waist, it tears a hole in the ceiling. With two gigantic steps, it walks out of the portal and tramps towards Ronald.

“You bastard!” yells Ronald, as the golem picks him up in both hands.

“Guns don’t work against portal beings,” I say, grinning slightly.

Of course, my grin falls when I see the dead bodies.

It returns for a split second when the golem throws Ronald like a professional baseball pitcher and sends the killer flying over the city skyline. Then the golem bows to me, returns to the portal, and sinks back into the floor.

“That won’t kill him,” says Mandrake. “It will barely scratch him.” He sighs. “Now they’re probably going to punish you at some point. And they won’t be attacking you alone anymore. If you try the golem trick on Blastoid, you’ll end up with a cloud of steam and a pile of broken rocks.” Mandrake wipes his forehead with a handkerchief.

Police sirens wail in the distance.

“Well,” says Mandrake, “After the theft at the National Gallery, the news will have a lot of things to report today.” He turns to the dozens of dead bodies covering the restaurant floor. “Namaste,” he says, holding his hands together.

“Rest in peace,” I say, holding my own hands together.

It looks like the war has just begun.

TLO: Chapter 26: Passion

Passion

I am sitting, tied up, in a mafia van. Three Shinigami are watching me. I have nowhere to go from here. This is the end.

As I am rocking back and forth, I hear a screaming coming from far away. It is a familiar sound, one that I remember from just a day or two ago.

It’s Rarden.

The van jerks to the side. The three Shinigami stand up, but before they can do anything, three spearheads shoot out of the sides of the van and pin then to the walls.

The van’s back doors open. The sound of screaming reverberates through the air, and I am faced with Rarden, who steps up into the vehicle.

“I’m glad I made it,” he says.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

Rarden shakes his head. “I missed my flight. I had nothing else to do.” He has a mischievous expression on his face.

I step out of the van and onto the ground. “Where’s Sebastian?” I ask.

The other mafia van, the one that was holding Sebastian, is a burning ball of fire. Sebastian approaches me from the other side of the van I just exited.

“Master, I apologize for being so weak,” he says.

I shake my head. “No, I was the weak one,” I say. “Where’s Gena?”

“Right here,” says Gena, walking around the side of the van. “You will regret this,” she says. She holds a rifle up to me. Unlike the portal beings who serve me, I have no natural protection against modern weapons.

Rarden puts his hand on my shoulder. “Let me handle this,” he says.

The screaming starts up again in earnest. The sound is powerful enough to hurt my ears.

Gena fires off several shots at Rarden. The screaming spirits around Rarden’s body reflect the bullets, sending them pinging into the side of the van.

Rarden stabs Gena through the chest with a sword he pulls out of the spirits. Gena spits blood and collapses. The black bone sword drops from her belt.

A military helicopter is roving overhead, some distance away. I pick up the black bone sword and turn to Sebastian.

“Call that helicopter somehow!” I yell. “We need to get to the portal!”

Sebastian puts his hand to his ear. “I’ve got our agents in the military to give them a command,” he says.

A Shinigami charges at us from the other van. Sebastian turns around and puts the monster in a headlock.

“Your master is dead,” says Sebastian. “You have no reason to fight anymore.”

The Shinigami growls. “We made a contract.”

Sebastian tightens his grip. “You can serve a new master. Isn’t that how we work?”

The Shinigami goes limp. “Our loyalty is not that cheap.”

Sebastian taps the monster on the head. His eyes roll backwards and he slumps to the ground. “They’ll come around eventually,” says Sebastian. He lets go of the monster.

The military helicopter approaches from above, stirring up a violent wind. It lands next to the two burnt-out mafia vans.

A soldier leans out of the helicopter.

“Are you the one we’re picking up?” he says. “I just got the big wigs on the line. They say to bring you to the portal.”

I climb on board the helicopter. Rarden follows.

Sebastian bows. “I will take care of the remainders of Brine Ward,” he says, over the sound of the helicopter. He steps back from the bird.

The helicopter lifts off, and the ground falls away beneath me. We start flying straight towards the area where the portal opened up.

As we approach from the sky, I can see the hundreds of monsters spreading out through the countryside. It appears that most of the land surrounding Crickhowell is a national park. This is lucky, as the monsters haven’t yet invaded a heavily populated area.

We fly over a forest until we reach the location of the portal. I catch sight of the aircraft-carrier size mammoth in the distance, as well as the trail of broken trees it has left.

“Land us near the portal!” yells Rarden.

I grip the bone sword in my hands. It is cold, and heavy.

The helicopter lands in the park where the portal has opened. Monsters still spill out of its depths, but they form an open area for us to land.

I hold up the bone sword. It is sucked out of my hands by a violent gust. The portal swallows it, and then explodes into a shining rain of glitter.

Every single monster stops.

“They’ve stopped!” I hear a military man say, over the helicopter’s radio. “What the bloody hell happened?”

The whole world is silent.

Then, the portal monsters turn to me.

“Master,” says one of the alligator men who has just come from the portal. The monster bows to me.

“You were the one who returned the artifact,” says a baboon that is two meters tall. “You can give us a command. At your word, we will return to where we came.”

I nod. “Return.”

The two dozen monsters in the park bow to me. “As you wish. We shall watch the one who gifted us and protect them.”

It’s at this point that Gena would probably enslave the monsters to her will. However, I’m of the belief that I already have way too much power. Gaining the entire contents of an S-class portal as minions would just be too much. I don’t even have a temptation to keep any more than a token number of monsters for myself. All I want is to live happily and maybe win a competition or two.

“You may return,” I say. “Except for a couple of you. I’d love to make a few friends.”

The monsters bow again. “We shall return to where we came from,” says the alligator man. “Though we shall leave some of our strongest warriors with you in thanks for releasing us.”

The monsters around the park begin returning to the portal, which is a lot less powerful-looking then before.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be the master of an army of monsters?” says Rarden, as the monsters around us return to the portal.

I shake my head. “I already have a pretty powerful army on my side,” I say. “Also, I don’t know what I’d do with command over the contents of an S-class portal. I mean, what, would I want to conquer the world or something? That’s just stupid. I’m happy to play video games and eat chips while sitting at my desk. Maybe win a few conjuring contests.”

Rarden smiles. “That’s how I thought. But no one would believe me.” He claps me on the back. “You’ve done the world a great favor, kid,” he says.

I do my best to smile. “Yeah!” I sigh. “I still have to teach a bunch of conjurers to create Rearden Metal. That’s going to be hard.”

The alligator man has not left yet. He is still bowing.

“What?” I say, looking at him.

The alligator man looks up at me. “Your orders.”

I sigh. “Just, find a way to make the world a better place.”

“As you wish,” says the alligator man. The various monsters in the park disperse.

“I wonder who was controlling them before?” I say, wondering aloud. “If they’re so compliant after their, uh, artifact is returned, I wonder who was the one who commanded them to take over the world?”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” says Rarden. He shrugs. “All I know is that the key to that portal has been passed from hand to hand for a long time.”

Not very many monsters are entering the portal. I assume this is because I told them to “make the world a better place.” Did they take that seriously?

Well, whatever. I turn to Rarden and the soldier in the helicopter. “Do you mind giving me a ride to London?” I say. I am tired. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours. I need to head to the apartment Crayton prepared for me.

Crayton … Crayton … Alice! I turn to the portal so quick I crack my neck.

There she is. Alice. She’s laying on the ground at the edge of the portal. I walk over to her and kneel beside her. Her pulse is slow, but still there. She’s also breathing.

Her eyes flutter open. “Mom?” she says.

I shake my head. “Gena tricked you,” I say. “Your mother is still dead.”

Alice’s head falls limp. Her eyes close, and tears fall down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. I just wanted my mom to come back.”

A helicopter flies overhead and lands in the park. Crayton and two men in black step out.

Crayton’s face lights up when he sees Alice. He runs to where I am holding her and picks her up. Giving her a huge hug, he then turns to me.

“You’ve done something for me that I’ll never be able to repay,” he says.

I shake my head. “I don’t need to be repaid. All I need is for everything to go back to normal.”

Crayton looks at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “Then we’ll do that. You can spend two more months here, teaching my conjurers about Rearden Metal.” He pauses. “But I’m not going to let you go that easy. I need to reward you somehow.”

I shrug. “I don’t know, let me date Alice?”

Crayton’s smile falters. Then he seems to break on the inside.

“Okay. I give you my permission to date my daughter. But you have to take care of her. Don’t lead her on, don’t hurt her.”

Alice is still unconscious in Crayton’s arms. She probably wouldn’t want to hear this, anyways.

“I guess this is it, huh?” I say.

Crayton lowers his head. “I’ve given up on my ambitions to join …”

“You can say it,” I say. “Silverbones, right?”

Crayton cringes. “Quiet!” he says. He looks around, seeming relieved. “Good thing no one heard that.” He looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen him.

“What about that … Organization is so special?” I ask.

Crayton shakes his head. “Don’t. You don’t want to know. The knowledge will consume you.” His eyes are looking far away. “I’ve decided that my daughter is more important than immortality.” He smiles at me. “Thank you.”

Rarden walks up and claps me on the shoulder. “Hey, man! You saved the day!”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I did.” I sigh, looking at Crayton and Alice. “I guess now everything is going back to normal.” I survey the wreckage around the park, including dead bodies.

The bone sword must have been the same kind of thing Japan and Mongolia used to defeat their S-class portals.

I’m just glad that the UK is still a thing.

A government helicopter rotates overhead, looking for a place to land among the helicopters that are already here.

The helicopter lands. A figure steps out, one that I won’t ever forget.

The Queen of England! Holy beans, this is amazing!

The Queen approaches me with all the dignity I would expect of her. She is flanked by a dozen guards.

She stops in front of me. “Markus, right?” she says.

I nod. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“England is forever in your debt. Not only did you tame an S-class portal, you also removed a thorn in the government’s side in the form of Brine Ward. I don’t know what we can do to thank you.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need anything, your majesty,” I say. “I’m happy to just go back to school.”

The queen smiles. “Very well. You are always welcome here, and we will be waiting for you to decide what we should reward you with, if you ever decide.” She turns around, and heads back to the helicopter.

That was quick. Well, I suppose the queen has a very busy schedule, especially with the wreckage caused by that portal.

I see that Rarden and Crayton are looking at me with the most incredulous faces I have ever seen. What, is meeting with the queen such a big deal?

“Bloody hell …” says Rarden. He looks at Crayton.

Crayton shakes his head.

One of the men in black remains. He bows to me. “We would much like to show you better hospitality than this, but our queen is very busy at the moment. You will receive formal invitation to both an audience and a celebration for your deeds. You will also be given the title of Psionic Knight and awarded with the Adventurer’s Cross.”

Okay, wow. That’s a lot to take in. I’ll probably be immersed in polite society again like before, but, well, I suppose I can handle that.

The queen boards the helicopter and the vehicle rises into the sky.

I turn to Rarden and Crayton. Both of them share a glance. Then Crayton does his best to grin at me.

“Well then,” says Crayton. “I suppose now we should just go home?” He points to the helicopter he arrived on. “I can give you a ride.”

I nod. “Okay,” I say.

I follow Crayton onto the helicopter. He is still holding Alice in both hands. Crayton turns to me. “Of course,” he says, “I can’t control my daughter’s love life.” He seems to be continuing from before.

Then the helicopter’s blades drown out all conversation.

We land on top of the Esmex corporation building an hour later. Crayton steps off, still carrying Alice. I follow him.

Crayton walks into the building. A man in black holds out his arm.

“Mr. Blanche has instructed me to lead you to your apartment,” he says.

I nod and follow this man into the building. We take an elevator to the twentieth floor and step out.

There is a small hallway with a single door at its end.

“This is your apartment,” says the man in black.

“You mean, this whole floor?” I ask.

“Yes,” the man in black says, looking a little confused. “Isn’t that what you’re used to?”

I shake my head. “I only got rich recently.”

The man in black nods knowingly. “Well then. Enjoy your stay.” He steps back into the elevator.

I open the door and walk into a gigantic living room with an entire wall of windows looking out over the London skyline. It’s a beautiful place. The furniture is modern, there is a full kitchen, and there are several pieces of art hanging that I assume are worth a whole bunch of money.

I sit down on the fancy couch and breath a sigh of relief. Before I know it, I am asleep.

My usual dream world is a lot more crowded than it was before. I almost groan, as I realize that a good portion of the monsters who I turned using the bone sword have entered my personal dimension somehow. How am I supposed to work with this? There are alligator men, monkeys, automatons, and who knows what other kinds of beasts. There are also the boss monsters, at least six of them, including the gigantic aircraft-carrier size mammoth.

Jirgrar appears before me and bows. “We tried to keep these outsiders away,” he says, “But we were unsuccessful. They insisted on serving you. As if you needed any more help.”

For once, I agree with Jirgrar. I don’t know how I’m going to handle having power over the entire contents of an S-class portal.

This was what Gena was after, anyways. What I’m wondering is why she didn’t open the portal herself.

I ask Jirgrar the question.

Jirgrar shakes his head. “Gena did not want to risk her life. Opening a dormant portal is very taxing, and could put your life in danger.”

“So Alice braved that,” I say.

Jirgrar bows. “I am sorry to inform you, but Alice is probably not going to recover from the stress of opening that portal.”

I feel a sinking in my stomach. “What happened?”

“Portals give off a huge pulse of psionic energy when they open. Anyone near will go into psionic shock. The D-class portals you’re used to will cause no more than a slight headache,” Jirgrar says. “But, an S-class portal is on a whole different scale.”

“So Alice may not recover,” I say.

“Even if she did,” says Jirgrar, “She may never be the same.”

I am devastated. I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ve lost something important. “So she’ll be disabled,” I say.

Jirgrar shakes his head. “I do not know, master,” he says.

I sigh. “Well, then we’ll just have to see what happens.”

Jirgrar nods. “Yes. One more question before I let you rest. What would you like us to do with all the new followers you have?”

“Just put them to good use making the world a better place,” I say.

Jirgrar bows. “As you wish,” he says.

And I fall into a much deeper sleep.