I was beat, completely shattered after my dungeon crawl—boots of stamina or not. The guys hadn’t left the apartment all day. They’d taken the day off, letting the grind rest, and had been lounging in the living room, watching the talking heads analyze the night’s upcoming semifinal in the Battle Clash. Beacher Ash was up against Trey Aldright.
The musketeers had momentarily forgotten about the Battle Clash when I brought out Laridian’s Edge from my inventory. They passed it around, caressing the shiny, almost oily surface of the blade, watching firelight dance in its reflection. Now they’d gone down to Anchor’s to watch the fight and grab some beers. Me? My plan was to get at least eight hours of sleep before setting my master plan into motion—a plan I’d dubbed The Plan of Massive Power Levelling.
But for the night, sleep was my only plan.
There was a knock at the door.
<i>For fuck’s sake…</i>
I tossed my pillow aside and went to answer it. It was the driver, and I can’t say I was surprised.
“Your friends told me you were here. You need to come with me.”
“No.”
He looked at me like the meaning of that one syllable hadn’t quite hit home.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m tired. I’m not going anywhere except to bed.”
“Miss Parsa isn’t one to be denied. She—”
I slammed the door in his face. I wasn’t doing this anymore. A man had to have some dignity, after all.
I had just drifted into a shallow slumber when the door sounded again.
<i>What in the flying f—</i>
I hurled my pillow at the wall and stormed to the door, ready to tell that uppity <i>fucking </i>NPC a thing or two.
It was Sarah on the other side of the door, wearing a black dress and high heels, a silver necklace, and that same fur coat as before. She looked as gorgeous as ever. A man could falter in his ambitions for less.
“Can I come in?”
I stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture toward our rathole of an apartment. Someone should’ve done the dishes—probably me. She stepped in, her gaze floating through the wreckage.
“And here I was under the impression you were actually a grown man.”
“I blame the kids,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “You want a beer?”
She nodded. I popped the cap off for her, and we sat at the kitchen table, drinking in silence and studying each other.
“I was surprised you sent my driver away.”
“Me too.”
I hadn’t been surprised when I sent him away, but now, with Sarah sitting in my kitchen, cherry-red lips sipping from a bottle, I was more than a little bit surprised of myself.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was a dog. Most probably...
“And I’m a bit surprised you showed up at my door,” I said.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Me too, but here we are.”
Long story short—cut to the couch. Sarah lit her usual post-sex cigarette and glanced at me, blowing smoke toward the ceiling.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about what you said last time, about the time rifts and all. It’s a hard thing to wrap my head around.”
“It is. But then it becomes the new normal. I think that’s why we’ve been chosen to play the game. Not because we’re the strongest or brightest, but because we can deal with this and get shit done.”
“That’s the other thing I’m curious about—what ‘shit’ is. Right now, it’s just fun and games—literally—but I’m not stupid enough to think that’ll last. I know you know but can’t tell me. At least tell me this: should I bail from the game now, before I get too involved? Or should I go deeper?”
“I can’t tell you that. You need to discover what lies ahead on your own. What I can say is this: all the high-level players are here because they want to be here, not because they’re forced. And there are as many ways to play this game as there are players. Some just kick back and live life once they reach High Town. Others can’t get enough of the adrenaline rush and go on mission after mission. Some go into trade, building fortunes. Don’t make the mistake of contrasting ‘the real world’ with this one, because this world is just as real as the other one." She silened for a moment. “Guess we all have our reasons to be here. Out there, in the other world, I’m a nobody. I work at a Hooters restaurant. You know what that is? You had them back in 1984?”
“We do.”
“Well, then you know. It’s one of those gigs you think you’ll do for a year or two at most, but for me, it turned into longer. I’m 41 now, working as a waitress, and I have no fucking clue what to do with my life. This world became my life. I found my special guy here, and we leveled together, did everything together. But he leveled past me, found another woman to fuck, and left me behind. I’ve been stuck at level 42 for a while now. Can’t find the energy to push forward, but I can’t bring myself to go back to the other world either. In about two weeks’ time, the weekend’s over in the other world, and I have to go back to waiting tables, taking the occasional slap on the ass for extra tips. I can’t see how that’ll work anymore. Probably I’ll slap them right back and get fired. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. It’s been time to move on for a while. If I can’t muster the energy to take that step, maybe it’s better they throw me out on my ass.”
“Is that special guy still in the game?”
“You could say that. He’s Raker Toth, the Alpha Prime.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yep.”
“I had a little run-in with his baby brother the other day.”
“Vinger?” She looked startled.
“Yeah. We didn’t get off on the right foot.”
“That’s bad. Really bad.”
“I figured it wasn’t great to piss off a level 46, but... bad?”
“Vinger is... not a nice person, to put it mildly. He’s a sadist. He likes hurting people, and if you’ve gotten on his bad side, that means trouble. Stay low and hope he forgets about you. If he makes you a side project, you may as well leave the game now.”Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“Surely it can’t be that bad?”
“It can. The Alpha Prime is, next to the Game Maker himself, the most powerful person in the game. He can break any rule in the TOS, and he’s <i>very </i>protective of his baby brother.”
I sighed.
“Well, keeping a low profile isn’t exactly my strong suit. Especially since...”
“Since what?”
“I asked you if I should go deeper into the game or bail, but I already knew my answer. I’m going balls deep and advancing as far as I can.”
That had been the pattern of my life. I didn’t just enlist in the army—I wanted to be part of the most elite fighting force possible. I became a Recon Marine. When I returned to civilian life, I couldn’t just go to the worksite every morning, hammering and nailing wood while my fat boss sat in his pickup truck, eating his lunch and watching us toil under the burning sun. So, I started my own construction company and ran my former boss out of business.
And I couldn’t be in this game, tailored for ultimate competition, and just be a bystander. I’d have done it for the competition alone, but there was something deeper within me that wanted to know—no, needed to know—why this game had been constructed and by whom. I needed to advance, to get to the answers. It was impossible to just shrug it off and return to 1984, go down to Santa Monica, and watch them pour concrete for the condos at Marina del Rey. I’d pushed through a secret wall into a secret world, and I had to uncover all its mysteries.
I just had to.
“I’ll pull out every stop and try to speed-level to 10 as soon as possible. Then, I’ll enter the Battle Clash to get some serious leveling done.”
“And when you say advance as far as you can…?”
“The Alpha Prime. This is a secret world, but nothing is secret to him. I want his position.”
She laughed incredulously.
“He’s level 87. Do you understand how long it takes to get that far? For most, it’s a lifetime project. He did it in less than three years, and you want to challenge him? You really think highly of yourself, Brad. And what about this grand plan of yours? You’re entering the Battle Clash as a level 10? You’ll have level 20s in your bracket, players who’ve been here for years.”
“I’m level 10. If they kill me, I lose nothing but my gear and credit, and I can get those back. What I’ll gain is insight—what it takes to succeed in the Clash. There’s no faster way to level.”
“Or more difficult. You won’t be fighting mindless mobs; you’ll be fighting real people.”
“Yeah, and I did that in Nam too, and I’m still here to talk about it.”
“You fought in Vietnam?”
“I did.”
“Oh, wow. For my generation, Vietnam is a movie genre, not a country. What did you do there?”
“I was a Marine recon sniper.”
“Okay… that will give you a ton of levels in any ranged weapons in Elatrion from the get-go. Have you been there yet?”
That pretty much confirmed my theory about me starting at level 12 in archery skills. Shooting a bow was much different from firing a rifle, but there were similarities as well.
“Not since the tutorial. I’ve been grinding dungeons in Windersmyr.”
“Not a bad choice, but with your skill set, you should dip your toes into Elatrion as well. There are some powerful places there to get levels and loot.”
“And the Haunted Mansion?”
She grimaced, shaking her head.
“Can’t help you there, hun. I went once and never again. Not my jam. That place is just… it’s fucking horrible. No sane person would put themselves through that hell.”
“There’s good loot there, people say.”
“There is. But no one has ever returned with anything to show for it.”
“What loot can you find there?”
“Multiverse loot. The bizarre thing is, you can’t use any of it at the Mansion itself. They starve you for ammo and make you fight the undead with your bare hands. People don’t die there; they just bail when they see what they have to face. There are easier ways to get loot than fighting the undead for it.”
The Haunted Mansion sounded promising, but that was for later.
The next morning, I followed the Musketeers to the square. When they veered left, I nodded to indicate I was going right.
“Elatrion?” Rick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Good luck, brother. That place is too intense for me.”
“Me too,” Michael said. Mort added, “Aye.”
My fancy legendary sword was a multiverse weapon and would serve me as well in Elatrion as in Windersmyr—maybe even better if Sarah’s descriptions of my intended leveling areas were accurate.
So, the plan: spend the day in Korea Town in Elatrion, complete a basic mission fighting low-level mobs with black-market ray guns, take down the area boss, and then return to Windersmyr the next day to clear mid-level dungeons. My legendary sword would need to carry me since I’d be severely out-leveled by the mobs there. After that, I’d see how close I was to level 10. If I was still far off, I’d join a quest in Windersmyr to finally hit level 10 and gather some juicy loot. Once I reached level 10, I’d enlist in the Battle Clash and roll the dice.
Sounds easy enough, right? Yeah, but things rarely are.
The carrier took off, pulling at my guts as usual. I kept my eyes shut until I felt that familiar lift in the seat. Then I looked out at the curved horizon. Soon the descent began—the carrier twisting in a steep bank, walls creaking and seats rattling.
An urban sprawl of light appeared through the dark clouds. Water streaked backward across the windows as we passed through the clouds. Then we touched down.
The carrier doors hissed open, and a man in uniform popped his head in, barking, “Disembark! Form up at the parade square!”
We scrambled off and jogged toward the parade square, a large concrete slab that looked like the remnants of a tenement building. Broken concrete and bricks surrounded it, with flames flickering from dented barrels.
A faint drizzle hung in the air, and the place had none of Longbourn’s inviting warmth. Tall buildings loomed above, scattered lights running up their fa?ades, spilling out through windows. It felt more like early morning than night.
We formed a jumbled mess on the slab. For me, it was as easy as snapping my fingers to slip back into the role of soldier. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for my brothers-in-arms. They looked like they’d never formed a straight line in their lives.
The army sergeant marched down the line, barking and screaming, tugging at uniforms and rearranging the soldiers. The tag above his short-cropped head read:
Sergeant Watts (NPC)
He stopped in front of me, glaring with his blue eyes.
“What are you looking at, <i>maggot</i>!”
“Nothing, sir!”
I knew how to handle a drill sergeant.
“I’m <i>nothing </i>to you? Is that it, maggot!”
“Sir, no, sir!”
“I’ll be watching you, recruit,” he said, coming so close our noses almost touched. “I don’t like your fucking attitude. Got it?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
And that was how you handled a drill sergeant—always answer the question while shouting “sir!” at the top of your lungs.
He continued down the line, harassing a boy who was visibly shaking.
Goddamn, how real all this felt.
Above, three gray aircraft, resembling troop transports, floated with that weird mumbling sound toward a cluster of high-rises farther away. Flashes of green and purple erupted in the distance. A battle was raging over there. This wasn’t like sweeping over Da Nang in a Huey with an M60 machine gun pointed out the side door, but my body reacted the same way. I was mentally gearing up for battle.
I glanced to the right. Not a soul above level 3.
I glanced to the left. Not a single soul above level 4, and no one looked older than twenty.
“Ahhh-<i>right</i>!” the sergeant bellowed. “Gang wars have spiraled out of control. The Triads are wreaking havoc in Korea Town. Decent people are scared—won’t even leave their homes. The police have asked for our assistance. ‘Can’t manage on their own,’ you say? ‘Not a job for the army,’ you say? ‘You have better things to do,’ you say? Well, swallow your <i>fuckin</i>’ pride, Space Marines, and go clear that area out!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” we screamed in unison.
“Private Orlov! Private Richards! Private Winter! Step forward!”
I had no idea what was going on, but this was the army, and when your name was called, you did as you were told. I, along with a lanky guy with an impressive beak of a nose and a Black guy built like a tank, stepped forward.
“You three are squad leaders. Squad 1!” he bellowed, pointing at Orlov, the lanky guy. “Squad 2!” he barked, chopping his hand in my direction. “Squad 3!” he finished, gesturing toward Winter.
I turned back to the parade square. The usual blue name tags had been divided into three different colors: green, blue, and yellow. All the guys with blue tags now had the prefix “S2.”
I looked at <b>Adam Scott, lvl. 2 – S2</b>, the kid shaking nervously. He met my gaze with an anxious smile. All in all, I’d been given command over eight guys. What the hell was I supposed to do with them? They didn’t look like they’d hold up under pressure. They looked like the kind of guys who’d show you a picture of their girlfriend and talk about marriage—right before getting blown to pieces by a mortar shell.
“You an army man?” Winter asked.
I nodded. “Marines. And you?”
“Specialist Mark Winter, 11B Infantry.”
A veteran like me, then. Good to know. Orlov, it turned out, was a weekend warrior in the National Guard.
“Guess we know why we were selected as squad leaders, then,” Orlov said.
“Yeah,” I nodded.
“Shut your mouths and listen!” the sergeant yelled. “You need to work together to clear this place out. All loot is shared, with a little extra for the squad leaders—so no need to get greedy. Work as a unit, or I’ll fuck you up when you return!”
We pulled up our maps. As in Windersmyr, the areas we hadn’t visited were blacked out, but we could see three distinct pathways.
“I’ll take the left route,” Orlov said.
“I’ll take the center,” I said, leaving the right path for Winter.
“Keep in mind,” Winter added, “our paths may weave into each other. We need to avoid friendly fire.”
“Okay then,” I said. “Let''s get this show started.”