The Alchemist Chapter 1

Sorry about all the new stories I'm starting. I'm just gauging my own interest in them before continuing. Here's the start of a new story.

Chapter 1

It was in my first year of university as an engineering student. I was walking to school one morning and caught sight of a man running at me. He pushed me aside as he ran past me, causing me to stumble, and step out into the street, at which point I was hit by a careening truck and my life was ended unceremoniously.

Upon opening my eyes, I was greeted with an open black room, lit by an unknown source. At its center was a throne with a grey shadow sitting on it. The shadow leaned forward.

“Markus Peters,” said the being. “You have been chosen to participate in a program designed for those who have come to untimely deaths.”

“Um, okay?” I said. I looked around the infinite room. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Indeed,” said the being. “You died in an accident. We are giving you one more chance.”

“Okay,” I say. I didn’t have to think about it. “I’ll take it.”

“Hm,” said the being. “You have a good attitude about this. I will give you a choice of boons that you can bring with you into the next world.”

A gigantic tome appeared in my hands, opening to the first page.

Watermancy. The ability to manipulate water at will.

The rest of the book, as I flipped the pages, was filled with all sorts of superpowers.

“What kind of a world am I entering?” I asked.

The being chuckled. “A world with a demon lord,” he said. “You can extrapolate what you will from that.”

“So, it’s a fantasy setting?” I said.

The being said nothing.

“Okay,” I said. “I think I have what I want.”

“Hm?” said the being. “Do tell me.”

“Alchemy,” I said. “This looks like a good skill.”

“You certainly are an engineering student,” said the being. “Very well. You shall have the power of alchemy alongside you when you go on your mission to defeat the demon lord.”

“Wait, I have to defeat him?” I said.

And then the world blinked out of existence. I stood in an open field, my hair moving in the breeze. I scratched the back of my neck. “Okay then?” I said. “What next?”

Perhaps I should try out this whole alchemy thing, I thought. I pressed my hands against the soil and felt, in that moment, all the elements that were dispersed throughout the ground, the trees, and the boulders forming the clearing. From Gold to Yttrium, I could count the elemental concentration down to the milligram.

Well, this is useful. Not only could I see the elements, I could also manipulate them. So, I drew all the precious metals from the soil in the surrounding hundred yards—the limit of my ability—and had them coalesce into obelisks in front of me. I had in front of me a sizable amount of gold, silver, platinum, and a number of rare earth elements. Also, I gathered a large amount of titanium and aluminum.

I began to mix the elements to form alloys. The metal flowed like it was liquid, even though it wasn’t hot. Soon I had a number of alloys in front of me, of varying properties. I tried making a helmet out of steel and titanium, and succeeded. I then created for myself a mail shirt, a sword, and some boots and greaves. The metal formed into exactly the shape that I wanted it to. Even the intricate links of the chain mail shirt formed without much input from my conscious mind.

After putting on my armor, I made a compass with some of the magnetite that I had sucked out of the ground. I decided that going east was the best choice for now.

I’m not even sure that I can speak the local language, I thought. Well, maybe there was some sort of magic that could help me. Or maybe that god figure had done something about it. Whatever the case, east was the way to go.

I walked through dense forest, following animal trails where I could. The brush was familiar, but the flowers and fruits were not. There were some purple apple-like fruits hanging from short stubby trees, and then there were the greenish blueberries that had one big ball and lots of tiny ones. I didn’t eat any of them, but I did pick a couple of each, shoving them into a metal mesh bag I created on the spot.

By the time I made it out of the forest, I was starving. The forest opened out onto a large, wide field filled with crops. My first sign of civilization.

I walked down a dirt road until I could see a settlement in the distance. Its wooden palisade was short and looked like it had been battered recently. Two guards stood in front of the gate. I approached them.

“Hail!” said the guard on the left. “Let me see your passport.”

“Passport?” I said. “I don’t have one.” I checked my pockets. “Oh, wait,” I said. “I do.” I found a small booklet in my pants pocket that I had not noticed before. What a great, thoughtful addition that was.

I handed it to the guard.

“Very well,” said the guard. “You may pass.”

I entered the city through the gate. Immediately I was assaulted by the smell. Open sewers ran on either side of the street. I witnessed someone empty a chamber pot out the window. The street was narrow and the buildings seemed to loom over it, cutting off much of the natural light. The people who were passing by me were wearing tattered clothes and looked unhappy.

This was not a good place to be, I understood. The city was probably experiencing some hard times.

Well, I had a pack full of precious metals, so I could at least sell some to a pawn shop or something. I wandered the streets until I found a store with a sign that looked promising. I entered.

The interior was filled with furniture and antiques. Valuables were behind the counter. A man with a long beard and beady eyes napped in a chair. Upon my entrance, he opened his eyes.

“Yes?” he said. “I haven’t seen you around.”

“No,” I said. “I’m new here.”

“Hrph,” said the man. “What have you got in there?”

“Some gold and precious metals,” I said. I put my bag on the counter.

The man looked through the various bars. He picked up a bar of the rare earth metal lanthanum. “What kind of a metal is this?” he asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.” He took out a touchstone and scratched the bar against it, leaving a metal streak. “Hm,” he said. “This is a new kind of metal. It doesn’t match anything I know of.”

“It’s called Lanthanum,” I said. “A rare earth metal.”

“Rare earth?” said the man. He shook his head. “Never heard of them.”

Right, this was a medieval fantasy world. They wouldn’t know anything about rare earth metals.

“What can I use this metal for?” asked the shop owner.

“Various things …” I said. “Well, it looks pretty, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed,” said the shop owner. “I’ll pay you ten Cris.”

“I’ll take it,” I said. “What about the other stuff?”

“Gold prices are at twenty Cris a dunce,” said the shop owner. “And silver is five Cris a dunce.”

I pretended to know what a dunce was.

“I’ll sell it all to you,” I said.

“Very well,” said the shop owner. He got out a scale and began measuring my metals. “Two hundred and seven Cris for the whole lot,” he said. “How goes your mining claim?”

“Mining … Claim …?” I said. “Right! Yes, I’ve been working hard to dig this stuff … Up! Yes!”

The shop owner looked at me funny. “Well, getting this much should keep you going for a while.” He handed me a bag of coins. “There’s your payment. Come back when you have more of this … Lanthanum stuff.”

I bobbed my head up and down and backed out of the shop.

Well, that was unexpected. I hadn’t thought this through well enough. If I wanted to get by in this town, I would have to get better at hiding where my metal came from.

I found the nearest tavern and sat down at a table. After a long while, a tavern girl approached me.

“What will ya be havin?” she said.

“Um, how about chicken?” I asked.

“We ain’t go no chicken here,” she said. “Just perch.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll have the perch.”

Ten minutes later a small cooked bird was placed in front of me. It looked like one of those tiny chickens you would buy at the store, cooked as is.

I tried some of the meat. It was passable, and I figured, as hungry as I was, this wasn’t something to pass over. The meal as a whole cost three Cris. After finishing the bird and the side of potatoes I was about as full as I could expect to be.

Now I had to figure out where I was and what I was expected to do. I knew I had been summoned here because of a demon lord or something to that effect. But I, for one, was not a fighter and did not know how the power I chose would enable me to fight said demon lord.

Why did I choose the power of alchemy? Well, because it seemed cool.

I probably should have thought that through better.

I stood up from the table, paid for the meal, and left the tavern to wander through the streets. After a while I realized that this place was probably not as safe as the streets of my suburban home and tried to find a place to sleep.

I came across a small inn that looked safe and clean enough to crash in for the night. Entering through the door, I bought myself a room and dropped onto the bed as soon as I had entered.

As I stared at the ceiling, I began to feel a bit itchy on my backside.

Right, I thought. This is a medieval inn. Of course there would be bedbugs.

I thought for a moment, and then realized that I could probably create some pesticides with my alchemy power. So I did. I formed three chemicals that I knew existed in pesticides and coated the bed with them. Within five minutes the bedbugs were all dead.

Score one for the alchemy power.

A sound rose over the drum of the street. Raising higher and higher, it was the town’s church bell. Several horns blasted over the night. I sat up in my bed. People on the floors above and below me began to scramble.

What was happening now? I put on my clothes, and just in case, my armor that I had created earlier in the day.

I was just getting comfortable! I thought. Perhaps this was the demon lord I was warned about?

I went to the door and opened it, leaning out into the hall. The inn owner was walking down the hall and kocking on doors.

“Quick!” he said. “Get to the walls. They’re coming!”

I went out into the hallway. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Orcs!” said the innkeeper. “They’re attacking!”

Great. The first night I’m here and I’m already faced with a life or death situation. I climbed the stairs to the ground floor and found a bunch of people congregating in the open front room. The fire crackled in the background.

A town guard leaned in from the doorway. “Anyone who is able bodied and can fight,” he said, “Get to the walls!”

Hum. This town probably has a standing force of guards. Why would they need a militia like this?

I went out into the street. People scrambled all around me. Were we really in danger? What would happen if the orcs broke through the flimsy palisade?

All I could do was wait and find out. 

The Refiner Chapter One

Chapter 1

My whole life I’ve lived in a junkyard. Today is a day like every other, spending my time after school working to lift and salvage the various pieces of junk that flow through my family’s yard. It’s dangerous business, but I’m so used to it that it barely registers as work.

My parents run Alroe Junkyard, a run-of-the-mill scrap recycling center on the outskirts of a suburb. Towers of rusted cars, broken bins, and various other metal objects loom over my family’s house. The interior is packed with smaller scrap, like microwaves and old toys and defunct shopping carts. It feels normal to me, and I’ve never been anywhere different.

Work ends at the usual time. I climb up a pile of broken sedans covered in red rust and sit down at a small perch between two vehicles. The moon is rising over the city in the distance, spreading its light onto the eerie formations of junk that surround me.

I’ve spent many evenings atop towers of junk like this. This is one of my favorite spots.

I catch sight of a shooting star spiraling downwards, straight towards my family’s junkyard. With a puff of smoke, much less than could be expected from a meteor or something natural, it lands in a small clearing in the junkyard’s center. I scamper down the pile of junk I’m sitting on and traverse the canyons until I reach the site.

It’s a small metal pod, alien-like, releasing a wisp of smoke. I reach out and feel that it is cold.

The door opens. A wiggling mass of worms lurches out at me.

I grab the nearest steel beam and smack the worm away.

The wiggling mass straightens itself and turns towards me. Though it has no eyes, I know it is looking at me.

This is an alien. I’ve had a close encounter.

The alien life form backs away a couple of steps. It shimmers for a moment, and then turns into a small, fairy-like person of about human proportions. It coughs a couple of times.

“Wrong zoology, damnit,” the doll says. Her visage flickers like a video game glitch. “This is Sol, not Darkun. Damn traders lied to me.” She coughs again, and then turns to me. “You,” she says. “Be my host.”

I take a step back. “Host?” I say.

The doll flickers and then takes a couple of steps towards me. “Indeed. Host. I need one to survive more than five minutes on this planet. Unlike you giants, my species isn’t capable of withstanding seventeen gravities for long.” A burbling sound comes out of her mouth. “You do speak American English, don’t you?”

I take another step back, wielding my steel rod.

The fairy-alien looks at my makeshift weapon with an expression of curiosity. “Is that true steel?” she says. “Your species is, how would you put it, not even K 1?”

“Er, no,” I say.

“I’ll cut you a deal,” says the fairy. “You let me inhabit you, and I give you powers that are beyond your comprehension.”

I shake my head. “That comes with a caveat, right?”

“You betcha,” says the fairy-alien. She cracks her neck and her whole body goes glitchy. “Technically I’m not a physical essence like you are. I have a mission to complete and lots of enemies after me. I can merge with your spirit and give you access to The Realm. In return, you can work with me to achieve my goals.”

“What’s The Realm?” I ask.

“A place where you can earn lots of money,” says the fairy. “I have information that tells me that’s all I need to convince you monkeys.” She tilts her head. “Unless you don’t like to be compared with a species several hundred thousand years removed from your bloodline?”

I see a shadow atop the nearest pile of junk. A ninja? No, my eyes must be going crazy due to this little alien here.

But, no. The ninja reveals itself, holding a thin, shining blade.

The fairy turns to look at it. “Welp. Looks like the Flowers Guild has located me already.” The fairy turns to me. “Absorb me, or let me die. It’s your choice.”

I hesitate.

The ninja leaps down from the pile of junk and lands in front of me, between me and the alien. All I can see are his or her eyes, as her figure blends into the darkness of the night.

“Give up the Atristian,” says the ninja, in a female voice.

“Do you even need his permission?” says the Atristian. She disappears and then reappears on my shoulder. “I’ve claimed him first.”

The ninja pulls out another blade. “I see you have made a pact with my enemy,” she says. “Now you will have to die.”

I swing my steel bar wildly and smash it into the ninja’s face. The steel beam comes to a halt a millimeter before her skin and a reverberating backlash runs through my arms.

The fairy alien melds with my body and I suddenly get the feeling that there is another person inside me. Nothing much more than a feeling, but it’s enough to put me off balance.

“Well, we didn’t have much choice now, did we?” says the alien fairy. “Call me Alice. I’ll be with you for as long as you don’t die.” My body is surrounded by a beam of light, and then I am floating high above the city, with my parent’s junkyard just a tiny little square below me.

Wind rips around my ears, and I see the entirety of the Area Valley spread out before me. The lights remind me of a starfield.

“I can fly?” I say, out of surprise.

“You can’t,” says Alice. “I used an emergency skill. We’ll float down, but I need you to direct your fall in the direction I indicate.” She pauses. “I won’t tell you where I’m taking you now, but know that if anyone asks, I’m an Ethelitarian, not an Atristian.”

“What’s the difference?” I ask.

“Everyone likes Ethes, and no one likes Atristians,” says Alice. “Don’t ask me how it got that way. Go south.”

“Which way is south?” I ask.

An arrow points away from me, floating in space.

“Am I the only one who can see that?” I ask.

“Indeed,” says Alice. “Now go. The Flowers Guild will be interrogating your parents, but they won’t hurt them. The Flowers Guild doesn’t operate like that.”

“Why are they trying to kill you?” I ask.

“Capture me, not kill me,” says Alice. “It’s because all aliens that don’t go through customs get deported.”

“Is that enough to threaten to kill me?” I ask.

“That’s probably just that individual agent’s style,” says Alice. “Go east.”

An arrow points east. I follow it.

“That compound there,” says Alice. “It’s a safe harbor.”

I float down towards the compound that Alice points at, landing in a courtyard. The whole area is lit by high power arc lamps.

“You said something about seventeen gravities,” I say, as I look around the empty courtyard.

“You homo sapiens live on one of the largest habitable planets in the galaxy. Add that to the fact that most species live in solution and you have a recipe for an alien pancake.”

“And you didn’t wear a suit?” I ask.

“You just couldn’t see it,” says Alice. “It’s in another dimension.”

An arrow points me towards a central building. “Go there,” says Alice.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“A government-run facility,” says Alice. “It will offer a safe harbor for any alien refugees for a period of time.”

“You’re a refugee?” I ask.

Alice is silent.

I come to the doorway of the building and push it open. A receptionist looks up at me from her desk. Her eyes look like those of a cat.

“Hello, darling,” says the receptionist. “We’re not accepting visitors at this moment.”

“I’m not here to visit,” is say. “I merged with a, uh, an Ethilitarian.”

“Hum,” says the receptionist. “What’s your name?”

“Mason Alroe,” I say.

“We’ll have you sorted out in no time,” says the receptionist. “Please stay seated here so that I can fill out some paperwork.” She hands me a pen, a stack of paperwork, and a clip board.

“This is not what I was expecting,” I say, to Alice.

“Just roll with it,” says Alice. “I’m not the one who sets up alien bureaucracy.”

“How did you know about this place?” I ask.

“The internet,” says Alice. “You homo sapiens do have that figured out, at least.”

“So you’ve never been here,” I ask.

“No,” says Alice. “But then again, I’d never set foot on Earth before two hours ago.”

“About that power you were saying you would give me,” I ask.

“The Realm?” says Alice. “Ah, yeah. There are plenty of you homo sapiens who participate in The Realm. Not everyone has had contact with an alien, but it’s a thing that transcends species and interstellar space.”

“You said I could make money,” I say.

“Depends on how your power manifests.”

I fill out a few check boxes on the forms I was given. “Well, then how do I get it to manifest?” I ask.

“Just think about it,” says Alice.

I think about it. A light forms in my hand, and then a roll of copper wire falls out.

“Hey, cool!” says Alice. “You’re a refiner!”

“Wait, what?” I say, as I examine the wire. It’s good quality. I shove it into my pocket and then continue filling out the form. When I’m done I hand it to the receptionist, who hasn’t been paying me any attention.

“Thanks, honey,” she says.

“So, a refiner," I say, as I sit back down. “What can I do?”

“Create stuff,” says Alice. “Refine stuff.”

“This is a bit anticlimactic,” I say.

“Not really,” says Alice. “With a refining skill, you can do almost anything. It’s the second most versatile skill category, behind scribe.”

“Can I make a tank?” I ask.

“Given enough time, yes,” says Alice. “But you’d need to absorb that much material first.”

“I live in a junkyard,” I say. “I have enough scrap lying around to create an armored division.”

“Hahaha!” laughs Alice. “Let’s see you do that. After all, I didn’t come here to Earth to just sightsee.”

“What did you come here for?” I ask.

“Let’s deal with one thing at a time,” says Alice.

The receptionist stands up. “Mr. Alroe,” she says, “Please follow me.”

I follow the receptionist down a hall. She stops at a door to an office and knocks. “Dr. Bast,” she says, “We have a fusion.”

“Come in,” says a man’s voice.

I step into the room. The receptionist backs away.

“I hear you absorbed an Ethelitarian,” he says. “We know who you are and we’ve already acted to blank your parents and anyone who was close to you.”

“Wait, what?” I ask.

“They think you just transferred abroad for a program,” says Dr. Bast.

“What?” I say. “It’s been three hours since I last met the alien inside me!”

“We work fast because we have to,” says Dr. Bast. “Don’t worry. We won’t hurt you. You have a lot of value to a number of organizations. But, since you’re new to this, you’re going to have to go to school as well.”

“School?” I say. “What the hell is happening? I didn’t sign up for any of this!”

“You contracted with an alien,” says Dr. Bast. “That means that you will be hunted.” He tilts his head. “Have you already had an encounter with that?”

“Er, yeah,” I say. “Someone called the Flowers Guild.”

“Ah, yes,” says Dr. Bast. “Them. I don’t envy you.”

“What is going to happen to me?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” says Dr. Bast. “But I know you’ll have lots of adventures from here on out.”

“And don’t think of running,” says Alice. “I need your help. And we’re going to do what I’ve come here to do.”

I sigh. “Okay. At least it’s better than the life that I had before.”

Zombies in Space chapter one: The Mission

Chapter 1

I sit on a crate of ammunition in the drop pod bay. The battleship around me shakes as it enters the atmosphere. Everything appears smoky, like the world is subdued and waiting for rain.

Alice cleans her gun with a nonchalant expression, though I can see the glint in her eyes. Action, to her, is a release. She’s never been scared before a drop.

I place my gun on the crate and wipe a tiny smudge off of its surface. Bord looks at me and makes a slight nod. Yep, I know. This is the planet that his family lives on—though they are on the other side from where we’re dropping.

That damn Zola virus took over this planet too fast for the first responders. We haven’t even dropped in yet and we’re the last line of defense.

The metal shell of the drop pod pings as little pieces of debris strike its outer exterior. My seat shakes.

The ship’s gravity compensates for a sudden slowing, and I lean to the side to match.

The five of us in this bay make up squad nine. Me, Alice, Bord, Tenma, and Richard. Richard is the specialist, and the rest of us are dorks.

Though I can handle a plasma grenade like a pro.

Richard stands in the center of the bay, holding onto a rail from above. “We’re going in this not to drop zooks,” he says, “But to get samples from the Core.” He looks at each of us in turn. “I know your buddies are fighting on the ground. We’re not with them. This mission is of utmost importance to the war effort.”

“Damn whitecoat,” says Tenma, under his breath.

Richard shoots Tenma an exasperated glare. “I’m not the one who selected the team,” he says. “If it were up to me you lot would be my last picks.”

Alice spits without saying anything.

Richard sighs. “Once we drop, it’s down Kikitani Main straight towards the Core.”

“A suicide mission,” says Bord. He makes no attempt to hide it.

Richard grimaces. “We’ll make it through,” he says. “I’ll keep you all alive.”

I test my combat suit. Sealed. Putting my helmet on, I turn on my heads up display and select the settings I’m used to.

“We’re dropping in sixty!” says Alice, standing up from her seat. She walks to her drop pod, embedded in the wall of the bay. The pod opens its doors and she steps in.

Before the doors close, she salutes, a slight maniacal grin on her face.

Well. She always did love combat.

Bord and Tenma step into their respective pods. I’m the last one in, just after Richard.

Richard is still a trained dropper, after all.

The tubes hiss, and my pod drops out of the bottom of the cruiser. We’re at the highest layer of atmosphere. Fifty thousand feet until we hit the ground. The familiar feeling of falling surrounds me as I tune my instruments to keep my pod on course.

“Looking good, Blake,” says my in-house AI.

“J.A.M.E.S,” I say.

“Great to be dropping with you again. I’ve noted that your vitals are a bit stressed compared to usual.”

“Well,” I say, “This is anything but usual. We have a damn whitecoat to baby. And this is no place for babying.”

“He’s a dropper too,” says James.

“I know,” I say. “He just doesn’t feel like it.”

My pod rumbles. A streak of fleshy appendages sear by my observation port.

“Looks like they’ve broken out the welcome!” I say.

“Type twelve interceptor beasts,” says James. “Not too much to deal with. Alarius is under level one infection, after all.”

“That’s what makes me nervous,” I say, as the clouds break and I catch a glimpse at the Economopoulos underneath. Everything down there is on fire. Lots of fire, and little tiny dots running around. Both zooks and civilians, plus the local planetary guard. “They’re not advanced enough.”

James is silent for a moment. Then he speaks. “Well, nothing in my database indicates you’re in for a particularly hard time.”

“And your database is always right,” I say.

James pauses. “I am not very good at detecting sarcasm,” he says.

I say nothing, only adjust my course to align with my squad members.

“Approaching ten thousand feet,” he says. “Five thousand. One thousand. Deploying stabilizers.”

A jerk strikes me. The whole world blurs for a moment. Then my pod strikes the ground, sending up a wave of asphalt and concrete.

I kick out the door using the open mechanism and leap onto the street, training my gun on my surroundings.

Nothing. Nobody. Only the distant sounds of conflict.

“Are we off course?” I ask James.

“We’re exactly where we should be according to my data,” says James.

The other pods arrive a second later in a blast of debris. I shield my face from the dust.

Richard is the first to emerge. He is holding a standard issue blazer-rifle, pointing at the ground.

I approach him. “Are you sure this is where we’re supposed to be?” I ask.

Richard tilts his head. “Of course. The data is never wrong.”

Alice steps out of her pod next. Covered in her battle suit, she looks like a black specter coming out of an egg.

Bord and Tenma also step out of their pods in unison. We all look at each other for a moment. Then Richard motions down the street.

“That way,” he says.

“Sure,” I say. He’s not a superior officer, but he is the leader of this squad at the moment. His science brain should know something that I don’t.

We walk through the deserted street, passing cars that are abandoned and blown out. A couple of papers flutter between the sides of the road. Nobody. Nothing.

A single zook stumbles out of an empty doorway. Its mouth has been blown off, and its jaw hangs by a thread of skin. Its body is covered in a dirty workman’s outfit, coated with blood. Its eyes lock onto us.

“Contact,” says Bord. We raise our weapons.

“No,” says Richard. He steps in front of us. “I need to get a sample first.”

“Sample?” says Alice. “We weren’t told we had to babysit a damn zook!”

“I just have to get close enough to extract some fluid. And it has to be alive.”

“Alive?” says Alice. “It’s dead already.”

“You know what I mean,” says Richard. He takes out a complicated-looking apparatus with a gigantic needle at one end.

Tenma whistles. “Where did you pull that out of?” he says.

“It’s spatially collapsible,” says Richard. He then walks towards the zook.

The zook stumbles towards Richard, oblivious to what Richard is holding.

“Hold him down for me!” says Richard, to me.

I shoot the zook once in each foot. It collapses to the ground.

“That works,” says Richard. He approaches the prone monster and injects it with the needle. Black fluid files through the neck of the device. Richard then pulls the needle out and ends the zook with a shot to the head with his rifle. He looks at the fluid and smiles.

“I’ll be analyzing this. Guard the perimeter for ten minutes.”

The rest of the squad look around, then at me. I shrug. “We’re not in any hurry, and there’s no immediate danger,” I say.

Alice sits down and puts her rifle between her legs. “Well, if you see an army of zooks bearing down on us, call me.” Then she blanks out her helmet. Probably playing a hacked time waster game. Alice has always had that core of steel that allows her to play video games in a combat zone. And Bord facilitates her by downloading them to her suit software in the first place.

I sigh, and turn to Richard. He’s playing with the analysis device he brought with him, and I can see the black fluid moving between clear tubes.

“Just as I thought,” says Richard, after a long while. “This is a level three infection fluid.”

“It looked like level one from orbit,” says Tenma. “Have you ever even seen a level three planet?”

Richard looks at me quizzically. “No. There have only been two on record to reach level three.”

“I’ve seen one,” says Alice, shutting down her game. “This doesn’t look it. There’s not even the smallest amount of Z-glaze.”

“Cities like this have undercities,” says Richard. “Have we even seen what’s going on down there?”

Alice turns away. “It’s not our job to fight down there. There are specialists for that.”

“Anyways,” says Richard, looking at all of us, “I have reason to believe that the hivemind in this city is hiding its grasp for some reason.”

“We’ll be going there anyways,” says Alice. “Let’s kick its ass and ask it what’s going on.”

“Pretty hard for the five of us,” says Tenma. “It takes an army to bring down even a level one hivemind. This one might be level three.”

Alice scoffs. “We can handle it.”

“You grossly overestimate your own ability,” says Richard. “We’re not going there directly. There are other places where I can get my sample.”

“Sample this, sample that,” says Alice. “If it weren’t for my orders I would be with the real fighters.”

Richard shakes his head. “I can’t tell you that. It’s classified. Just know that this mission is crucial to the war effort.”

Alice turns away. “Then let’s get to it. I signed up to bean zooks, so let’s go bean some zooks.”

Richard’s lips curl up into a slight smile. “I can accept that.”

Alice begins walking down the street. She turns around, facing us. “So, are we going to get there, or what?”

The other three and I look at each other, and then follow Alice down the street. We reach an intersection with several layers of street topped by a four-way pedestrian bridge. The whole affair reminds me of my home planet, which was also covered in city.

We go up a couple of stairs and survey our route. There are a number of signs of Z-glaze creeping out of the cracks in the ground caused by an explosion of some sort. About a dozen zooks wander around the open street.

The rest of the droppers in our ship landed about two miles to the east. We’re alone, and it’s eerily quiet. I don’t know where a city’s worth of zooks has gone.

“We’ll take 101^st street south until we reach the undercity terminal,” says Richard. “After that we’ll take an underpath to where we need to go.”

“You have suspicions that there’s a level three infection down there,” says Alice, “And you’re bringing us?”

Richard shakes his head. “It’s not confirmed. The data I picked up could be an anomaly.”

Alice grunts, tapping the side of her blazer rifle. “I’ve never been called a coward. Let’s do this.”

I exchange a look with Bord, and we both nod. Whatever the situation, we’re going to follow orders.

Richard leads us down 101^st street until we reach an undercity portal. The entrance looks like a gigantic subway station. Where there used to be guards and soldiers, there are now empty kiosks and sparking, broken electronics.

Richard holds up his hand. “Just a moment.” He takes out a suitcase and opens it. Inside is a drone, about the size of a cat. Richard places it on the floor and it zips into the undercity portal.

We wait for about five minutes before Richard nods. “Looks clear.” He pauses. “No, wait. I’ve lost contact.”

An ominous echo reverberates through the underground chambers beyond the entrance. I flip my rifle off of safety, aiming it towards the darkness. A shadow flickers against the wall. Red mist seeps out of the cracks in the walls.

A rumble shakes the concrete. Claws skitter with the weight of a truck.

A monster bursts out of the entrance. Perverse, covered in tentacles, with white sharp fangs hanging at odd angles, it lunges at Richard.

Avarice: The Realm Chapter 10: Dungeon

Dungeon

Endiga is a city born from the ashes of another. It’s in the Apocalypse Biome, a stretch of land that looks like Tokyo’s urban sprawl plus fifty years of neglect. Vines creep up the walls of the buildings, and most of the glass is gone. Cars, covered in moss, molder by the side of the road.

I arrive at the fast travel tower, which is in the center of a large park featuring a gigantic elder tree. Outdoor shops line the edges of the park.

A massive guild of cazzies is heading towards the fast travel tower. I try to get out of their way, but their leader singles me out and approaches me.

“You there,” he says. “You can help us. We need all the help we can get.”

“I’m sorry, but—” I say.

“It doesn’t matter,” says the leader. “The Dawn Wonderers have sent out a draft notice and all players over forty are required to join.”

“I juts got here,” I say. “And I have a high-priority mission I need to complete.”

The leader clasps his hands together. “Do that, and you’ll be on the wrong side of the Dawn Wonderers.”

I put my hand to my ear and contact Garnet. “Hey,” I say, and I explain my situation.

“Sure,” says Garnet. “The Dawn Wonderers have the clout of a medium-sized government military. We wouldn’t want to offend them.”

I hang up, letting my hand fall to my side. “My superiors say I can come,” I say. I hate to cave in like this, but if I get on the wrong side of the rulers of this city it might hinder my mission.

Plus, I have time.

“Good,” says the leader. “My name is Maximilus.” He points to a pair of cazzies. “You’ll be with CA and HelpDog over there.”

I walk over to the two. They look at each other and shrug.

I extend my hand. “I’m RT,” I say.

CA shrugs. He takes my hand and shakes it. “What are your powers?” he asks.

“I’m a transition metal conjurer,” I say.

“Cool,” says CA. “Does that mean you can summon bismuth bronze and bantanum?”

“Of course,” I say. “Nearly as much as I want.”

I haven’t missed the boat, of course. I know that this CA is ColorfulAmber, my target. It’s neither lucky or unlucky that I got paired with him in this press-gang-style army. It merely changes my plans.

I don’t think I’ll need to use Tracking Beacon anymore. At the same time, if I capture him right now, it will disrupt the secrecy of the mission. Too many people are around.

I don’t know if he recognizes me—if he checks his status screen once, he’ll see me marked by the Tracking Beacon put on my by ReaperGoon.

But he doesn’t know what I look like.

The one thing that confuses me a tiny bit is the question of why Peter Cool is joining this expeditionary force. If he’s one of Mandrake Signa’s underlings, he must have a lot of power backing him up. Surely he can resist being press-ganged into the army of a guild who doesn’t have his best interests in mind.

Maximilus stands in front of the crowd of about fifty players. He sticks his gigantic sword in the ground, resting both arms on its hilt. “We’re going to beat them before they beat us!” he says. “We’re going to strike them before they strike us!” He claps his hands together. “Let’s go kill those kobolds!”

“Fill me in on the details,” I say, to HelpDog.

“There’s a clan of kobolds in a dungeon near here who are constantly stealing from us,” says HelpDog. “We’re going to teach them a lesson.”

“And this merits shanghaiing every player in the city?” I ask.

HelpDog shrugs. “I’m just a shopkeeper, man,” he says. “I don’t know why the leadership of this city does things the way they do.”

CA gives me a lopsided grin. “Well,” he says, “Killing things is always worth it.” A paintbrush and palate appear in his hand. “And I’m never one to run away from a good fight.”

Yikes. This is another type of person that I don’t deal well with. People who enjoy killing too much aren’t exactly my cup of tea.

Well, I doubt they’re anyone’s cup of tea.

It does soften the blow a bit when I realize we’re fighting against monsters that technically are not alive and are just manifestations of a large and eldritch Freax web.

But still.

Maximilus puts his gigantic sword on his back and steps up to the fast travel tower.

“Legion Dungeon!” he says, and the light carries him away.

“Legion Dungeon!” “Legion Dungeon!” “Legion Dungeon!”

One by one the members of the raiding party disappear into pillars of light. Then my turn comes.

“Legion Dungeon!” I say, and I am carried away by a ball of light.

The dungeon isn’t actually that far away. We land after about five seconds of travel.

The landscape is dominated by a gigantic mound of soil and rock. The red of the stone is saturated by the midday sun.

“So they’re in there?” I ask.

HelpDog shrugs. “Sure. I guess. I don’t call the shots.”

Maximilus stands before the raid group. “We’re going in, and we’re not leaving until they’re exterminated!” he says.

“Ho!” says a number of well-equipped soldiers. They bang their armor or their shields.

“Those are the core guild members,” says HelpDog.

“They’re pretty enthusiastic,” I say, “Considering we’re about to go into a combat zone.”

I consider taking out my specialty rifle, but decide against it. Instead, I conjure two short swords. My class is “Kenshi,” which is basically a weapons specialist, both ranged and close quarters. My “DPS,” or “Damage per Second,” is very high, but my defense is lacking.

Of course, I’m very good at dodging.

Maximilus turns to the dungeon and enters. His form is cast into shadow and then disappears.

He is followed by the rest of the raid guild. I am among the last to enter.

The sound of fighting echoes through the corridors.

“This way,” says Peter Cool. “I received orders to scout this area.”

HelpDog and I follow Peter Cool down a side path.

I am on high alert. At any point, Peter Cool could turn on me and try to kill me. HelpDog is just a bystander, but it’s not my job to protect him. I’ll still try anyways, but if it’s between HelpDog and my mission I’ll choose my mission.

Peter Cool leads us to a branch in the tunnel.

A spear flies out of the darkness and impales Peter Cool in the neck. Blood spurts across the walls.

“Whoa!” says HelpDog. He doesn’t appear surprised—instead, he appears triumphant.

“What just happened?” I ask.

HelpDog shakes his head. “The Dawn Wonderers have wanted ColorfulAmber dead for a long time,” he says.

I think it’s okay, at this point, to break secrecy surrounding my mission.

“I was tasked with capturing him too,” I say.

HelpDog chuckles. “Hey, man,” he says. “First come first sere.”

I kneel down beside ColorfulAmber. His body shimmers. After two seconds, it explodes into confetti-like pieces of tinfoil. A low laughter echoes through the dungeon.

“You thought you could pull one over on me?” it says. It is clearly Peter Cool.

A bear trap the size of a man appears out of nowhere and snaps HelpDog between two pieces of spiked steel. He hemorrhages a huge amount of blood and then lies limp.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” says Peter Cool. “RoundTable. You have made an enemy of some very powerful people.”

“It’s my job,” I say.

I assume a Gold Card has to be involved in whatever’s happening right now.

I notice a tiny little glint near my feet and roll to the side. Another gigantic bear trap snaps the air where I had been a second before.

“Binder. Bright Light!” I say.

The whole tunnel system is lit up like day. A shadow flits at the end of one of the branches.

I dodge another man trap and sprint towards the shadow. The bright light follows me through the corridors, keeping them lit.

Three identical avatars surround me, flickering. I stab at one of them and it disappears into smoke.

“My boss has given me a lot of toys to play with,” says Peter. “And I’m going to use them all. Spark!”

The whole tunnel system erupts into conflagration.

“Fire shield!” I yell. While I’m protected by the shield, I grab an oxygen mask from my binder and put it on. Just as I am finished securing it, the fire recedes.

I turn around the tunnel, watching for the slightest hint of danger. Peter Cool’s ability to create anything he can draw is a lot more powerful in combat than I thought it would be.

As a transition metal conjurer, I understand the concept, but the objects I conjure come from my subconscious.

I creep along the side of a wall. The rock is warm from the fire.

The rock behind me cracks. I roll away from the wall and dodge flying debris. A monster barges out of the stone, surrounded by shrapnel and dust. Its teeth hang past it reptilian jaw, and its six arms undulate. Its eyes lock onto me, and my world begins to fracture.

Tentacles reach into my mind. I begin to lose my identity. The laughter of Peter Cool echoes in my consciousness as I begin to slip into utter confusion.

A sword slashes across from my vision and the monster is separated into two. Trails of blue blood stretch between the two halves of the former monster.

I fall to the ground, scrabbling at my oxygen mask.

“Hey, hey,” says a voice. I recognize it—Maximilus. “Are you okay?” he says.

I shake my head. “What … What just happened?”

“You just met a crawler,” says Maximilus. “Their gaze causes confusion, and they hide in the walls of tunnels waiting for prey.” He turns to where HelpDog is still skewered by Peter Cool’s man trap. “What the hell happened here?”

“ColorfulAmber tried to kill us both,” I say.

Maximilus sighs. “I always knew CA had some shady connections,” he says. “All right. As the leader of the Dawn Wonderers I have to handle this.” He rubs his temples. “This mission has already been a travesty, and now this happens.”

“Is the invasion not going well?” I ask.

“There are crawlers all over the place,” says Maximilus. “We weren’t expecting that.”

“Are we going to retreat?” I ask.

“No,” says Maximilus. “We will fight until we win. We’re no cowards.”

I nod. I understand how that works. “Do you mind if I break from the group and hunt down ColorfulAmber?” I ask.

Maximilus snorts. “If you can take down that bastard, then you’ll be doing us a great favor.”

I bow. “It’s my pleasure.” I turn away from him. A pile of glitter marks the spot where Peter Cool’s body turned into confetti.

I have an idea. I touch a piece of the confetti. “Binder. Tracking Beacon.”

It works. “Status,” I say. I can now track Peter Cool through the dungeon.

It seems that he is going deeper, rather than trying to escape.

“I’ll be going,” I say, to Maximilus.

Maximilus smiles and turns away, walking beyond the reach of my bright light.

I check my status again. Peter Cool is about a hundred meters ahead of me, through the twisting maze of the dungeon. I keep away from the walls as I follow him deeper and deeper into the dungeon.

I follow him deeper and deeper. We are heading towards the core, the deepest part of the dungeon.  

Then he stops. His marker blinks a couple of times, and then begins to head towards me.

I know he knows I’m following him. Is he trying to fight me?

I conjure my swords and stand at the ready.

The dot passes by my location, and I see nothing. Nobody. Peter Cools is as good as invisible.

“I take it you’re the one who killed my friends,” says Peter. His voice echoes through the cavern, preventing me from gauging its location.

I turn in circles as I try to figure out where he is.

“I can kill you now if I want, but I want you to suffer,” says Peter. He cackles. “The United States, and every other imperialist warmonger country, will kneel to the true kings.”

“The US isn’t the bad guy,” I say.

“Say that to the countries that you’ve invaded,” says Peter. “Imperialism and capitalism are a scourge. They must be purged from the collective.”

A see a glimmer of light. I think it’s Peter’s essence. I strike at it, it flickers, and then it reappears behind me.

“You can’t touch me when I’m in this state,” says Peter.

The back of my head tingles. I dive to the ground. An arrow flies over my head, zipping through the air.

Surprise Negation just saved my life.

“Quick, aren’t you?” says Peter. “But my next shot won’t miss.”

“I’ll take you out before then,” I say. “Status.” If I can’t see him physically, I’ll just find out where he is through Trackig Beacon. It’s going to be a shot in the dark but I think I’ll make it.

I conjure a bow and a tranquilizing dart. Watching the status screen, I fire exactly where Peter’s dot is.

The arrow stops in mid-air, and Peter materializes out of nothing. I run up to him and capture him with the apprehension module. Before he disappears, I hear him groan “Bell …”

Target acquired. I stand up and survey the tunnels around me. I have no idea where I am.

Since this tunnel is crawling with monsters, I have to be very careful not to lose my way.

I backtrack as far as I can remember, and find myself at the place where HelpDog was trapped. His body is stiffening, still encased in the man trap.

What a brutal way to die.

I pass the body, making sure to mark where it is so that his guild can recover it. I then back my way through the dungeon until I find the entrance.

11

***

Avarice: The Realm Chapter 9: The Rocks

The Rocks

I’m sitting at a bench at Fort Lincoln, thinking. I need to attach Tracking Beacon to Peter Cool before I can make my next move. Before I can do that, I need to know about a place he’s likely to touch and trigger Sticky Glue. Since we’ve captured Ratsi, we have a good source of that information.

I just have to wait for the interrogators to do their job.

The glint of a scope pops into my peripheral vision and I dive to the ground. A bullet flies over my head and strikes the dirt, sending up a puff of shrapnel.

I get behind a truck, putting the vehicle between me and the sniper.

It’s not the first time someone has tried to snipe me. But I know that, had my adversary been more experienced, or if I had been less observant, I would be less a brain right now.

I peek around the vehicle. “Binder,” I say. “Telescope.”

I scan the desert rocks where I first saw the glint. The formation is about twenty meters tall, filled with cracks, with the occasional cactus sticking out between them.

I see the glint again, and zero in on a male sniper wearing tan camouflage.

I sprint between the truck and a concrete barrier. As I lean against the wall, I conjure my bow.

I pop out and fire while diving. The arrow flies true, and a small spurt of blood tells me that I’ve hit my mark.

I put my hand to my ear and activate telepathy. “Garnet,” I say. “I just took out a sniper who was after me.”

“A sniper?” says Garnet. “Nobody should have been able to get that close.”

“I’m heading over to examine the corpse,” I say. I creep towards the rock formation, measuring about ten feet a minute. There could be two, or the one could be not dead.

I reach the rock formation and press against it. “Binder, periscope,” I say. I toss the view half up to the top of the rock formation.

The man is clearly and totally dead. My arrow is embedded in the man’s eye.

I climb the rock formation and examine the corpse. There’s nothing on him that would indicate an affiliation. His gun has no marks, and I’m not entirely sure what make and model it is.

Garnet and several X-marines climb up the formation behind me. Garnet kneels next to the corpse.

“We’ll get an ID on him,” she says. She points to two marines. “Help me carry this body away.”

When the marines are gone, Garnet sits against a rock. “We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again,” she says.

“I don’t know how we can do that,” I say. “They know where I am at all times, and a good sniper can get past any sort of defense.”

“Binder,” Garnet says. She slips a card out and gives it to me.

It has a gold border.

“You’re giving this to me?” I say.

Garnet nods. “The US government has three of this specific card,” she says. “This is one of them.”

I look at the card. Surprise Negation.

“This card takes effect whenever you’re going to be surprised by an attack. The effect is permanent. You’ll know about the attack as soon as your enemy is in place.”

“How much is it worth?” I ask.

“Don’t ask that,” says Garnet. “Just know that the brass value the death of Mandrake more than they do this card.”

“Couldn’t someone else take my place if I were to be killed?” I ask.

Garnet shakes her head. “It’s because of your track record so far. The brass, to be honest, thought that you wouldn’t even be able to take out one of them. We’ve tried so many times that they were cynical.”

“So this is akin to a reward,” I say.

“Exactly,” says Garnet. “Now use the card.”

“Binder, Surprise Negation,” I say. A little flicker of light attaches to me and then disappears. The card disintegrates.

I feel no different than before. Scratching my nose, I look off at the horizon.

“Did it take effect?” I say.

“It should have,” says Garnet.

“Well, I trust you,” I say.

Garnet grins. “Great,” she says. “That was a huge investment on the part of the government.”

“Thanks again,” I say. I climb down the rock formation.

Garnet follows.

Pierre approaches us as soon as we enter the compound. “We have the information we need,” he says. “Ratsi caved when we offered her a plea deal outside The Realm.”

“Hah,” says Garnet. “That proves her loyalty to Mandrake was only superficial.”

Pierre nods. “I agree with that assessment,” he says. “But in any case, we have the information we need to proceed.”

I turn away from the two, looking back up at the rock formation. Something about it gives me the chills. As if the rock itself has a soul and it’s watching me.

Pierre holds his hand to his ear. “We have an ID on the assassin,” he says.

I turn to him. “And?” I say.

Pierre sighs. “Looks like a rogue Finnish sniper. He’s been wanted by INTERPOL for several years now.”

“Finland?” I say. “What about his gun?”

“Let me check,” he says, hand still at his ear. “What’s the ID on the weapon?” He’s talking through telepathy, so I can only hear one side of the conversation.

“Right, yes,” he says. “I’ll let him know.”

“It’s a custom rifle,” says Pierre. “It has some sort of hybrid magical system embedded in it. We believe that there could have been a gold card involved in its manufacture.” He sighs. “But we can’t seem to ID what kind of ammo it uses.”

“If you get me one of the bullets,” I say, “I can replicate them.”

Pierre nods. “Pierre to base. Get me one of the bullets from the rifle.” He sits on a bench and continues his telepathic conversation.

I watch the rock formation, still feeling a bit queasy about it.

Five minutes later an X-marine brings the rifle and a bag full of bullets. I take both the gun and the bullets and sit down at a small metal table to investigate.

I hold my hand over one of the bullets and activate my secondary ability, composition read. It’s not a card and has no relation to The Realm outside of being a Freax power.

Looks like these bullets are made from uranium-cored bismuth bronze. The Realm sure has an infatuation with this specific kind of alloy.

With the knowledge of how it works, I can reproduce it. I don’t know how I do it, not consciously, but I know I can. I conjure a handful of bullets, all slightly different.

“Can I use your firing range?” I ask.

“Sure,” says Garnet.

Pierre is still engaged in a conversation.

Garnet leads me to the shooting range on the other side of Fort Lincoln. I am carrying the rifle.

Several X-marines are using the range, but there are plenty of open spots.

I settle in with the rifle and load it—it’s bolt action. My first shot goes wild—the scope must have been unaligned when I killed the assassin. I zero it in after a few shots and then test the ammo I conjured.

It works. I’m a little scared about the fact that these bullets use depleted uranium, but the bismuth bronze coating should prevent too much radiation from escaping.

Also, the bullet is in a special, unique caliber that I’ve never seen before. This gun is most definitely custom.

I like it. Turning to Garnet, I smile. “Can I keep this?” I ask.

“Sure,” says Garnet. “I’m not sure if I have the authority, but you need a better weapon than what you can conjure on your own.”

I place the rifle on a table. “Great. I’ll make sure that this gun works for us.”

It’s been a while since I last used a gun for my primary weapon. Now seems as good a time as any to change that. This rifle shoots in a way that reminds me of my childhood, and I think I’m feeling a bit of a connection with it.

Hunting trips with my father. That’s where I learned to shoot, to track, and to defeat my quarry.

Garnet takes out her own pistol and begins shooting down the range.

I pick the rifle back up and fire another couple of shots. All of them go exactly where I want them to.

Garnet and I spend the next hour or so shooting, and in that time I manage to deconstruct the ammunition completely, matching everything with how the gun was designed to shoot.

Pierre enters the shooting range, waving at me.

“Hey!” he says. “RT.”

“Yes?” I say, putting down my gun.

“We figured out what kind of weapon that is,” says Pierre, pointing at the gun. “It’s a custom, of course, but it was actually manufactured here in The Realm.”

“I mean, it makes sense,” I say. “It was probably made by a conjurer anyways.”

Pierre shakes his head. “Of course,” he says. “But we managed to contact the man who made it. We might be able to buy some off him.”

“This gun should be enough for me,” I say. “But if you can outfit some elite soldiers with this I wouldn’t complain.”

Pierre shrugs. “Yeah. Just wanted to let you know. Maybe you can learn something from this conjurer.”

I turn back to the shooting range. “Makes sense,” I say. I pick my gun back up. “Card,” I say. The gun turns into card form, and I slip it into my binder. I also turn several dozen bullets into card form.

“Another thing,” says Pierre. He hands me a piece of paper. “This is the information we got from Ratsi. Peter Cool lives in a penthouse apartment in the Western Biome city of Endiga.”

I take the slip. “I can probably sneak in somehow and implant Sticky Glue.” I pause, turning to Garnet.

She takes her ear protection off and puts her gun down. “Are we ready for this?” she says.

“Get me a copy of Sticky Glue,” I say, “Plus Tracking Beacon, Wall Walk, Light Bend, and Transportal.”

Garnet smiles. “Will do, chief!” she says. She jogs away towards the card storage building.

I am left standing next to Pierre. He turns to the shooting range. “Transportal, eh?” he says. “No one uses those. The fast travel towers are too convenient.” He scratches his head. “How are you going to use it?”

“You’ll see,” I say. I walk away from the range. Pierre follows me.

I absent-mindedly flip my half medallion between my fingers. “If there’s nothing stopping me,” I say, “I’d like to implant the Tracking Beacon on Peter Cool as soon as possible.”

“We won’t stop you,” says Pierre. He salutes. “Good luck with your mission.”

I walk to the fast travel tower.

“Endiga!” I say, and I am transported away.

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.