《Paragons of the Collective》


 Ch. 1 Awakening

    John''s internal alarm dully beeped to wake him up. He opened his eyes to find sunlight creeping into the dull permacrete dwelling he resided in from the small rectangular window high in the wall. The room consisted of nothing more than a small bed with a pitiful excuse for a mattress and a single tattered blanket, a sink that doubled as a toilet, and a polished piece of metal that acted as a mirror. The room was reminiscent of a prison cell from the 21st century but this was no prison of the body. There was no lock keeping John from walking out and leaving. The only prison was one of the mind. As if summoned, John''s jailor sounded in his mind.


    Good Morning John.


    A familiar and warm feminine voice sounded in his mind. Without getting up from the bed, John voiced aloud what he wanted to say. He couldn''t afford the downloadable content that would allow him to speak mind to mind. It was not necessary to survive and so it was not provided.


    "Good Morning Collective, what do you have for me today?"


    Well John, plenty of Contributors have opened up jobs this morning in order to earn Contribution Points. Shall I forward the queststo your display?


    John sighed heavily. "Yes Collective."


    Johns normally gray eyes glinted with blue light as his inner display was activated. While the display was standard to every human in the Collective, they only activated for people like John when Collective needed to transmit data.


    Just like every day for as long as John could remember, glowing pages of data collapsed themselves in John''s vision. John leaned up from his prone position in order to interact with the floating windows in his vision. As usual, they were all F-ranked jobs given by some guild or another. Jobs were ranked in order of difficulty, since the 26th century, F through D ranked jobs were designed to keep people like John in their place. Upward mobility hadn''t existed since the elite in society had been able to hijack Collective through its own Contribution system in order to set it up that way. C through A ranked jobs were only given to those individuals that could afford the avatar modifications necessary to complete the dangerous missions. Often, these missions took humanity from their relatively safe homeworld to worlds in the galaxy as humanity tried to assert their dominance over the universe.


    The jobs still floated in John''s vision a he dumbly paged through the offers. All of them provided Contribution Points in exchange for manual labor that Collective could not or was unwilling to do with its own automated workers. These jobs or quests were then subcontracted from Collective to guilds and then through those guilds to the actual worker. All of this was in line with the original purpose of Collective which was to unite humanity in their pursuit of superiority and peace in the galaxy. Only Collective had the processing capability necessary to lead and organize an entire species that numbered in the hundreds of billions. However, the guilds took this relatively pure mission and adjusted to suit their own system of controls. Guilds created contracts that forced workers to pay a percentage of their points for "mandatory safety services." These services could consist of food or potions that allowed the workers to survive in more austere environments. The services weren''t always benign. Some guilds were less savory and offered potions with addictive effects. These potions weren''t outlawed by Collective because they still provided the buff that the guild advertised. Often, Nameless like John got caught into a cycle of work and addiction where the few Contribution Points they were able to earn were converted to fuel their growing addiction. When they were unable to work they died due to withdrawals. While the actual death of a human was rare since the 23rd century, this type of death was cataloged as suicide by Collective and was therefore allowed.


    John paged through the jobs until he found a single job that did not offer a known addictive substance. It was an asteroid mining job in the far regions of space. It required nothing in the way of stats or skills which John was thankful for since in the twenty years of John''s life, he had been unable to do a single job that was able to transfer skills to his current avatar. In a sudden bout of disgust John closed all of the windows in his vision and his eyes returned to their normal steely gray. Collective''s voice returned.


    John, you know that if you refuse to perform a quest today then your Basic Allowance will be rescinded as per the Collective Bargain of 2192. You only have a total of 3,699 Contribution Points in this Avatar. As such, if you refuse to work then I will have to collect back pay for the last ten years and forty-nine days since you took up the Bargain. Are you sure you want to do this?


    Silent tears began to stream down John''s face. He would never escape this. He was born Nameless with no family or friends to help him rise from the F ranks. Worse, he would never earn the ability to respawn if he worked every day to the point of exhaustion for a single Contribution Point a day. It was enough to turn him to drink or drugs like so many other Nameless. If he were able to earn a name, he would be earning immortality and the chance to have adventure all over the universe. It was the dream of every orphan like him but at the rate he was going, he would die long before he earned a name.Collective once again intruded into his misery.


    John?


    John wiped his tears. "Collective, I''ll take the mining quest."


    Ok John, please lie down on the bed and I will begin to upload your consciousness to the quest Avatar.


    John lay down on the bed and his vision faded to black.


    The first thing John noticed was the drone of heavy machinery. He opened his eyes and found himself in an unfamiliar body. He was in a small storage closet-looking room. This was probably where the avatar was stored on the mining station when there was not a human driving it. He opened his eyes and pulled up his character sheetwith a thought.


    John was not surprised by what he saw. Dynasties kept power within the Collective by using Contribution Points to make major advancements for humanity and then subcontracting out the labor to Namelesslike John. Nameless were the perfect work force. They weren''t immmortal like the Named and so they could not respawn and they could never collect Points through their labor as the synchronization rate accrued the points to the owner of the avatar. In this case, the Musk dynasty. The dynasty was the first to colonize Mars and even know they were known to constantly push the barriers of human understanding and technology. Because of this, the Musk dynasty had been able to accue a titanic amount of Points since Collective first came online. These mining operations were how the dynasty was able to provide the huge refineries on Mars ore and other materials necessary for the production of weapons and other technology.


    Lord Musk was able to keep his position at the top by issuing out contracts with a synchronization rate of ninety-nine percent. This meant that while John¡¯s consciousness took residence within Lord Musk¡¯s many owned avatars, the skills, abilities, and Contribution Points that were earned by John would primary go to the Musk dynastyat a ratio of 99 to 1. Since mining ore didn¡¯t accrue many Contribution Points, John would be lucky to make a single point for an entire day¡¯s worth of hard labor.


    According to Collective, this was fair because Lord Musk was essentially gambling his own Contribution Points for a return on his investment. Lord Musk bought the Avatar, got it physically shipped to this asteroid floating and space, and John was merely doing work in a different body at little risk to his own Avatar which was safely ensconced in his room back on Earth.


    Since the cheapest augmentation a person could buy from Collective was a random Advanced Attribute for 3,700 CPs, most people gave in to some vice long before they even reached that milestone. After all, a random Advanced Attribute had a better chance of rewarding the person with something that would hurt their chances rather than help so most gave up before they even really began.


    For John, this was it. This was his last day before he could afford an Advanced Attribute. Either he would get something that would give him a better chance or he would find some way to end his own miserable existence. It was this thought that gave John the necessary motivation to stand and begin testing his new body.


    It was always a surprise when stepping form his own avatar andinto one with significantly higher stats.He felt strong and full of energy and while logically, John knew that this wasn''t really him, it still felt like his body. The return to his own skin wouldbe acomplete departure from this one. It was insidious how it worked. Just a small taste of power led to a lifelong craving for it.


    Of course, this avatar was a magnitude better than his own but it was also a specialized body. As such, the stats were distributed in such a way to make it easier to work for long stretches of time. John looked down at his new body. It was the normal, bipedal humanoid body that most Androids had. While it would probably make more sense to have a more exotic and specialized body, it did not make sense to hand that over to what essentially amounted to unskilled labor.


    John placed his palm on the dull metal panel in front of him and it slid up until it was flush into the ceiling. John took a wobbling step and supported himself with the wall until the full synchronization effect kicked in. He stepped into a small hallway dimly lit by orange emergency lights. Collective helpfully downloaded a mini-map into the corner of his vision and overlay a glowing green line on the ground in the direction he was expected to follow. John¡¯s steps made clunking sounds as he followed the green light to the end of the hallway.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Due to the lack of gravitational pull, his steps became a slide and clunking motion as the magnets within his boots activated and deactivated as needed to keep him moving. The movement was awkward at first but this was not the first time that John had traversed a low gravity mining outpost. There were no windows or expansive views on the path. John followed the quest guide through hallways that looked exactly the same. John idly wondered if there was any breathable air in these corridors or if they didn¡¯t bother with life support since it was just a storage for Androids who did not require such things.


    Finally the quest line came to a conclusion at what looked to be some sort of air lock. John waited a few moments until a small, square panel to the right of him came alive with muted light. Within it was an attractive, human male with green eyes and black hair. The attractiveness was easily due to a couple points in charisma and John felt his eyes thin at the scowl on the man¡¯s face. Sure enough, the man began to bark orders through the screen.


    ¡°Nameless! What took you so long to navigate here! This is barely a D-level quest. Are you so stupid that you can¡¯t find the forking glowing green line that gets you here?¡±


    John remained quiet. Talking back to a member of the Named would merely bring trouble. If he incensed the man then the man might be tempted to not only cancel the quest that John was currently on but also blacklist John from further work. The man seemed to be waiting for John to respond and John did not give in to the temptation to fill the empty space. After a few moments, the glare faded some from the man¡¯s face as he spoke again.


    ¡°Fine. Exit this hatch onto the surface of this asteroid. There is enough metal content within the surface for your mag boots to stick to the surface. You¡¯ll find a latch at your waist to hook yourself to the safety ties around the mining site. Make sure you use them because if you don¡¯t and end up floating from space, the Musk family will sue you for every Contribution Point you have. Since you Nameless are all drunks and druggies, I expect that bankruptcy will be the end of your only life.¡±


    The man sneered as he delivered the last threat. Once again, John remained stoic. It helped that the body he was in was incapable of showing any real emotions anyway.Seemingly disappointed that John didn¡¯t take the bait, the man continued.


    ¡°Once I open the hatch, make your way along the guiding line until you get to the dig site, the others are already there waiting for you. Our soldiers will be there to provide security for the miners. All equipment you may need are in your inventory or located at the site. At this time, do you have any questions over the information I have provided for you?¡±


    John calmly replied in the negative and hatched opened into a small chamber. John stepped through, waited for the door to close behind him and then presses the button for hatch in front of him to open. Once again, the a hatch retracted into the ceiling and John was left with a view of space. Among the multitude of stars and vastness of space, Mars settled in the distance.


    The asteroid itself was cold and lifeless looking and John didn¡¯t give it much thought as he followed the quest line. Slowly but surely, John made it to the dig site using the odd sliding motion he had since become familiar with. There were a group of androids like himself waiting at the entrance to a hole bored into the asteroid. The edges of the hole look melted and glassy. As John neared the others, he noticed four low-level humans who were obviously going with the miners as security. One was dressed in light-class mage armor, one in medium-class rogue armor, and two in heavy-class warrior armor. The metal of their armor and the style of their weapons identified them as Martians.


    John kept his head down as he tried not to garner their attention. The crests on their armor showed that they were Named members of the Musk family and John knew he shouldn¡¯t gather any attention. As he joined the other miners awaiting to enter the hole, the mage spoke up. His voice was heard clearly to use despite the vacuum of space.


    ¡°Listen up Nameless! This is the dungeon MA-437. It entered Mars¡¯ orbit some two months ago. Collective has identified a few basic lifeforms within the dungeon and classified it as a D-class dungeon. You will not engage any of the hostile life forms. Any engagement and/or and damage to the avatar you¡¯re currently possessing will result in a lawsuit from the Musk family. My party will enter first in order to clear the path to the resources. We are looking to harvest large amounts of Iron and there are small traces of mythril. Your Collective Points will depend on how much material you are able to mine and place in the mining cart going with us. Obviously, with your Synchronization rates hovering at the 99th percentile, it will be difficult for you to garner more than one or two Points for your own Avatar. Should you find a large deposit of mythril or any other rare materials, you will be rewarded accordingly by the Musk family. Any questions?¡±


    Seeing that there were none, the mage gestured to his party and they immediately formed into a combat formation. At the front was one of the heavy-class warrior. With a gesture, a shield and a large mace materialized in his hand. Behind him the medium-class rogue materialized some sort of ranged rifle-looking weapon, and the second warrior materialized two medium-length swords. The swords were interesting because the lighted edges indicated that it would slice through most forms of armor and act as a precise cutting weapon. The mage materialized a metal staff and a cloud of glowing nanites could be seen orbiting the staff. Glowing energy fields activated on all of the members before fading out of the visual spectrum. As one the party advanced into the cave and the miners trudged after them.


    As John entered the hole a system message entered the lower left corner of his heads up display or HUD.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Entering the D-Class Dungeon, MA-437. Aggressive Species: Few. Danger Assessment: Low. Loot Distribution for You: None. Party Leader: Edwin Musk, Healer lvl 12.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    John could have made the system messages delivered via verbal notification, but that tended to distract him at the wrong times and it didn¡¯t create a log that John could reflect on later. Every Nameless knows that having a written log stored is the only way to be proven innocent by the Collective in the case of a lawsuit from a Named or higher member of the Collective.


    The trek through the passage was uneventful. The life forms were a blackish red type of slime that the warriors easily dispatched. They were only slightly difficult because they didn¡¯t have a central nervous system and so they sometimes took a few good slices to stay down. The tank in the front seemed to have the easiest times killing them as every time his mace landed an electric field would discharge and disrupt whatever animated the slimes. After that a few slices from the other warrior or a few energy blasts from the rogue would kill them easily.


    Anytime a slime got a good hit in and crumpled some of the armor of a party member, the healer easily repaired it with a glowing cloud of nanites. The only weakness John noticed was that the nanites required material in order to repair and so the space around them became pitted as material from the mines was converted into material for their armor. This meant that the defense party would have to stay well away from the miners at the actual dig site in order to maintain security while not allowing the nanites to damage the materials they were trying to mine.


    As the group made their way further into the dungeon they finally reached the first mining area. The only thing that made it different than the rest of the tunnels was the dirty looking streak of metal that adorned the walls like tiger stripes. The mage called a halt with a closed fist in the air, motioned for the warrior party to take defensive positions, and shouted for the miners to begin working.


    Internally sighing, John took a common pickaxe from inventory, and began attacking at the wall. The glowing points of the pickaxe sliced through the rock with ease. After a couple hours of the mind numbing task, John started to realize that he was edging closer to the other miners. He stopped from where he was and moved to the furthest streak of iron within the protective circle provided by the warrior party. The warriors themselves had grown lax and bored as the mining did not attract the attention of further creatures within the dungeon.


    John continued his boring labor and the warriors did not spare him a second glance. As John swung he felt a reverberation as his pickaxe made contact with the metal. This had not happened before and John was jarred from the self-induced hypnotic state he had been working in. Before this, every time John hit the stone and metal, the pick would sink into the material for a couple inches before easily dislodging a small piece of rock or metal. Once that happened John would throw whatever metal into his inventory. As he became encumbered he would walk to the storage cart and throw the metal in the cart. Upon receipt of the material the cart would log how much his Avatar had collected and that was the basis for the Points that his Avatar would accrue by the end of the dungeon.


    Because the synchronization rate was at 99 percent, John could only count on one or maybe two Points if he discovered something rare. All the rest of the Points would be given to the Venerated Musk family since they were the one to provide the Avatar and the transportation for which John was merely renting. This procedure was similar to the Sharecroppers in America during the collapse of slavery. In school, or what passed for school now, John had learned about this system and wondered why the Collective had reinstitute it along with a caste system. Now, John didn¡¯t care very much. Ten years of hard labor tends to stamp out any hope of change or revision of the future. John¡¯s only hope was to make enough Points to afford an advanced attribute and hope that it would allow him the freedom he needed to start working for his own Points instead of feeding the system.


    With a mental shrug, John brought himself back to reality and swung at the strange rock again. Once again, a reverberation traveled through the pickaxe and through his hands. Squatting down John studied the material that was causing him trouble. John hoped that the reason he was not able to hit the material was because he had found a deposit of mythril and could gain the reward from the Musk family.


    As John got closer, he noticed that the material did not have the blue sheen of mythril. Instead, there was some sort of black material. It was so dark that it seemed to draw in the light from around it and become almost two-dimensional. John raised his metal fingers and placed them upon the strange material. Immediately his body clenched up in pain. John¡¯s rational mind told him that it was not physically possible to feel pain as his android body did not have pain receptors and only his human body could provide that. Realistically, he was not even in his own body, he was occupying a body created by the Musk family.


    John irrational mind screamed for the pain to stop as it felt like every neuron was on fire and every molecule of his existence was set aflame, extinguished, and then set aflame again. His vision went dark and he slumped to the ground as his mind rode waves of fiery pain higher and higher. At the peak of his pain he heard a rumbling laughter among his own thoughts. It began to speak in a language that was unfamiliar to John. The human species had long since turned to Terran as a basic language. It was an amalgamation of languages that had began on Earth. Words began to adapt and change as they discovered new experiences among the stars. Slowly the words of the creature began to make sense.


    The dark entity in his thoughts laughed again. This body will do perfectly. It may be Nameless, but I will give it a name that will make the galaxy shudder.

 Ch. 2 Adaptable

    John slowly regained consciousness. His internal alarm was once again going off and John shut it off with a thought. He woke up as feeling as if he had a strange dream. The sunlight shining into his cramped domicile was too bright and made him cringe as he opened his eyes. Immediately, a headache started pounding in his temples. He staggered out of bed and made his way to the sink like an addict. He splashed water on his face and then drank some of it from a cupped palm. Looking into the mirror, he notices that his gray eyes were shining with an inner light. As he began to gain his bearings, he noticed that he had notifications waiting from the collective.


    "Collective, show me my notifications."


    At John''s words status screens starting flooding his vision.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>You have been infected with [???]. Status effects: -50% to Synchronization Percentage. Duration: Unlimited.


    WARNING: You are experiencing intense pain. Your body has blacked out from shock. Your physical resistance has risen by 1%</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>You have attacked party leader [Edwin Musk, Healer lvl 14].You have been kicked from your party.


    Removing consciousness from avatar. Returning to own body.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    WARNING: you have received a lawsuit from [Musk Dynasty] for violating contractual agreements and attacking a member of the Musk Dynasty without provocation.


    Verdict: the Collective has found you GUILTY. 3,000 CPs have been transferred from your account to the Plaintiff as restitution. Additionally, the Plaintiff has blacklisted you from [Musk Dynasty] Quests.


    Have a great day.


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    John groaned in defeat. What would possess him to attack a member of the Musk Dynasty and what the hell kind of debuff did he earn himself? John decided not to dwell on the 3,000 Points that were taken from him. It symbolized ten years of grueling work taken away in an instant. He would dwell on that later. Instead, he decided to see what kind of infection he had gotten.


    John opened his status screen and was shocked by what he saw. Not only did he have a permanent debuff to synchronization but out of the one percentage of physical damage resistance that he attained in the other avatar, half of it transferred to his own avatar! That had never happened in the ten years of labor he had been subjected to. Additionally, he had a new Advanced Attribute!


    In some ways, Advanced Attributes and normal Attributes were similar. They both could be leveled using points given from levelling up and they both directly had an effect on the performance of an avatar. For example, strength had a direct relationship with how much weight the avatar could throw around. In this way, Attributes have a direct effect. Advanced Attributes were slightly different from regular Attributes. Some of them could directly influence the normal attributes and othersassisted in various cognitivefunctions that could not be quantified by Collective.Advanced Attributes could be pretty powerful if they had a stat multiplier but no one bothered with them because they commonly had minor and insignificant effects. Only rarely did theyprovide boons that would help the user escape the system and only the truly desperate bought them from Collective.


    John''s original reason for buying an Advanced Attribute was because he didn''t have a chance otherwise. Desperation breeds risk-taking.The new Advanced Attribute was titled "Adaptability." With a thought, the attribute expanded into a full description. John was curious how Collective explained the attack on his body and the subsequent attack on the warrior party.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Adaptability: An Advanced Attribute that increases the learning potential of all other attributes, advanced and basic, by 25%. Additionally, Adaptability allows the user to increase their own stats through training and experience rather than as only a reward from the Collective. Finally, the user will find it easier to learn new skills and acquire new abilities due to their adaptive personality. This Advanced Attribute is unique to the species [???].</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    John was in awe. This attribute changed everything for him. Now he would be able to earn enough experience to level up. Now he would finally be able to learn skills and abilities that would transfer over to his own avatar. John could finally work for himself and not for some shadowy overlord. If he could get to level ten he would be able to unlock transportation off of Earth. If he could get to the frontier worlds he would have a chance of discovering something hidden and finally earn enough Collective Points to earn a name and even become Exalted or Venerated.


    John slowed down his thoughts. He would have to be careful. This infection, or whatever it was, made Collective consider it a different species altogether. One of the few things that Collective cared about was splicing different species together to make hybrids. This was one of the forbidden tenets within the Collective and if anyone discovered it they would tryto destroy him for it. John did not know why Collective did not flag him as some sort of hybrid anyway but he was thankful.


    John did not know anything about this species, how it got into his system, or what it was good for and he didn''t care. This was his one chance to escape the system and finally do something with his life.


    John decided to test out his newfound abilities. He wondered just how difficult or just how easy his acquisition of skills would truly be. John only had 699 CPs left to his account so he would need to be careful to spend them in the most advantageous way. Luckily the kind of thing that John was looking for was cheap as it was designed to distract Nameless like him rather than provide any tangible benefits. Lying on the bed, John closed his eyes and activated his link to the Collective.


    The Collective was the information network that existed between every human being across the known universe. It was what allowed them to vote on leaders, attain prestige and status, and communicate across vast distances. This network should not be confused with Collective. The name for the artificial, maybe not so artificial, intelligence that was the guide and moderator for the Collective.


    They were named the same because they essentially were the same. A query to Collective was essentially a question for the Collective. Collective was just the gestalt that collated and organized that information for consumption. Collective decided what quests needed to be initiated, what rewards needed to be issued, or what stats needed to be acquired based upon the needs of humanity.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The AI, Collectivewas second only to the Emperor in power and authority. It was rumored that Collective was merely the Emperor''s will made manifest. John didn''t know exactly how the Emperor was chosen or how power was actually distributed within the caste system of the Collective. John was Nameless. He was at the very bottom of the caste system and such concerns were above him.


    At least until now. Shaken from these thoughts, John navigated through the Collective in order to find training simulations. These simulations covered every known subject throughout every period of history in any location known to humanity. They were used as forms of familiarization training and entertainment as Collective didn''t classify their use as advancing the cause of humanity. They didn''t bestow stats or abilities and they didn''t help avatars acquire abilities any faster. Since Collective didn''t find them useful, they weren''t, and Collective determined everything in regards to avatar progression.


    If John''s adaptability did what he thought it did, John should be able to escape Collective''s unyielding grip over his avatar. Unfortunately, these kinds of simulations were expensive and with only 699 CPs to his name, he would have to be particularly careful in his choices. Additionally, now that John could acquire skills outside of low-ranked quests, he could try his hand in a myriad of activities on Earth that previously would have been useless. There were always criminal elements that could teach him the skills necessary to survive in the fringe worlds.


    Keeping this in mind, he decided to select aseries of simulations that would help him survive contact with these less-than-legal individuals and allow him to get his foot in the door. His first choice was Basic Unarmed Combat lvl I.


    His choice was made simple by the fact that there was no way he could afford any actual weapons right now. Weapons were excessively expensive unless one had a Name and they were controlled both by Collective and the various dynasties that formed it. Until then he needed a way to do damage without putting himself on some sort of planetary watch list. He made the decision by tapping the icon in his field of view and waited while Collective transferred the 120 CPs necessary to play the simulation. John inwardly cringed at the six months of work that would be wasted if he was wrong.


    The simulation will begin in 3... 2... 1...


    At the end of the countdown, the darkness faded from John''s vision and he found himself lying flat on a hard surface. He lifted himself up halfway and looked around. He was lying on woven straw mats. Bright lightfilteredthrough paper screens that were open to the outside. John couldn''t be sure from his perspective, but he guessed that is was the middle of the morning.Chirping birds and the myriad sounds of life drifted overfrom the jungle outside. In the immediate yard, everything was so green and brightly colored. John noticed that everything was perfectly arranged in some order that John could not quite discern. Somehow the plants, rocks, and other natural features were organized in such a way to look natural and yet orderly. John was transfixed by the greenery that did not exist in his own time. His inattention cost him as he was startled when a man entered the room without John noticing and spoke in a quiet voice.


    "What are you doing on the floor, student?"


    John was startled and quickly rose to his feet. Looking down at himself he noticed that he wasn''t in his normal clothing or in his normal body. An attempt to bring up a status screen accomplished nothing. He was clothed in white trousers, a white tunic, with a white belt that secured it closed. Looking at the man in the corner, John noticed that the man''s own attire was dyed a deep blue and the belt cinched at his waist was the darkest black. John noticed that his language was different than what John was used to speaking but for some reason, John had no difficulty in understanding the unknown man. Assuming this to be part of the simulation, John made a slight bow and addressed the man respectfully.


    "Good Afternoon Teacher, I apologize I was distracted by the beauty outside."


    The man nodded in assent.


    "Perhaps you should focus onyour immediate surroundingsrather than the gardens outside. There is a darkness about you student. Something I have not seen in you before."


    Not knowing what to say, John remained bowed and silent.


    "Today we will be learning gentle fist and hard fist. But first we must train our bodies to resist pain. Do you know what this entails, student?"


    John replied in the negative.


    The elderly man moved to a panel and slid it open to reveal a small storage space. Stacked within were polished wooden bats. The teacher grabbed two and then tossed one to John. John caught it awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. Noticing this, the man gave a faint smile.


    "I will demonstrate."


    The elder proceeded to rap the wooden bat against his shins. First it was slow and steady and eventually the master increased the intensity and speed until John stood there with his mouth agape at the sight of such casual brutality. After a few more minutes of relentless strikes, the master placed the bat on the ground and moved to a wooden support pillar for the structure. John was entranced.


    The old man started with both fists clenched, palm up at his waist as if he were tying a belt. Slowly he extended one fist until it lightly tapped the wooden pole. Satisfied that he had his distance measured correctly, the man slowly retracted one palm and then extended the next in the same manner. Once again, the man started slowly, alternating punches with a slow and yet powerful thud against the pillar. Soon like with his shins, the man increased the intensity and speed until the entire room shuddered with the strength of his blows. After an indeterminable amount of time. The man stopped and casually glanced over at John.


    "Now that I have demonstrated, youshall begin."


    John glanced down at the wooden bat in his hand and shuddered.


    "Teacher, isn''t there some other way...?"


    The old man was smiling faintly at John''s reluctance. As he was about to reply, a shudder passed through his body. The smile faded from his face and he dropped his head into his hands. His long gray hair covered his features as his body began to quake. Frightened, John reached out a hand to make sure the peaceful old man was alright. As he did the old man jerked backwards and raised his eyes to meet his. The eyes were completely black as the deepest reaches of space. They were so dark that they didn''t even look like eyes anymore. They were portals to the primordial essence of the universe. Those eyes drew in light. They drew in gravity. They drew in all forms of energy and fed upon them in the abyss.


    John stumbled backwards in fear, raising the wooden bat in order to marshal some type of weak defense against the demon in the room with him.


    A deep, rumbling chuckle emitted from the mouth of the old man.


    You will learn this Nameless. This is the way that I have shown you and this is the way that you will ADAPT!


    Shadow covered the old man completely until he looked like a piece of darkness made living. His hands clutched into claws and he suddenly leapt for John''s throat. John screamed and closed his eyes in reflex. The baton dropped from his grasp and to the floor and making a dull thud as it hit the ground. After a moment with his eyes clenched closed, John realized that he was not in fact, dead. Slowly he opened his eyes and found the old man smiling at him once again. His eyes had returned to normal and he seemed to not have moved at all in the last couple minutes.


    "Why yes, student. This is the way that you must prepare yourself to use the hard fist."

 Ch. 3 Focus

    John shook off the aftermath of the old man''s frightening transformation. This simulation wasn''t real anyway and he needed to take advantage of the potential opportunities this training offered him.


    Gingerly picking up the wooden bat, John began to rap it against his shins. The movement ended up looking like an awakward walking motion as he stepped forward with one leg, the bat would fall resoundly upon the shin bone. As he stepped with the other foot the motion would be repeated. It was just as painful as John imagined it would be. John continued this motion, circling the small room for an indeterminable ammount of time. The old man merely sat down in the center of the room into a modified lotus position. He closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply. John was concerned the old man would fall asleep and then never tell him to stop. Just as he was about to stop and give up, the old man opened his eyes.


    "Enough. Begin your punches."


    With a sigh of relief job placed the bat into the small storage closet. His legs were throbbing with pain that reverberated through his entire body. With painful steps, John made his way to the pillar that the old man had previously been punching.


    Just as the old man had done previously, John set his feet in the same stance and slowly extended one punch until it softly connected witht he pillar.


    "Harder."


    A flash of annoyance suffused John. He was about to tell the old man that he didn''t sign up for this when he realized that in fact, he had. Stamping down his annoyance and shoving it into the recesses of his mind, John tried to punch the pillar. A resounding crack was heard as John''s next strike hit the pillar. John internally howled in pain. His fist immediately became a fireball of pain. Looking over to the man, John expected him to tell him that was too hard.


    The man remained still. "Good. Continue."


    John immediately had an intense dislike for this man but he persisted. Crack after resounding crack echoed through the small room. At some point, John''s mind began to wonder. He began thinking about what his next steps would be. He needed some kind of class that would allow him to increase his abilities. He was going to have to be somewhat autonomous from Collective because of the mysterious virus that his body was carrying. As such, he couldn''t rely on a class that caught much traction in traditional parties. As soon as he joined a party with other avatars he would significantly increase the chance of him being outed as some sort of hybrid. The underworld in the city should offer some sort of job that could assist with that. Deception and infiltration skills would be necessary so that he could access some of the more difficult content that the Collective had to offer without tackling it as a full party.


    The man brought John out of his reverie.


    "Enough. Now we will began to focus on your katas. Do you need to rest?"


    Startled, John considered. He had a couple notifications.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Ability Aquired!Unarmed Combat Lvl 1: The very basics of unarmed combat have been made available to you. Unarmed combat consists of both lethal and non-lethal methods to defeat an opponent. Unarmed Combat is the basis of all combat classes and as such increases the efficacy of all forms of combat as it is leveled. Continue leveling to increase learning and damage percentages. Current Learning Percentage for other forms of combat: 10%. Current Damage Percentage increase 1%.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Physical Damage Resistance Increased by 1%.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    As soon as he dismissed the notifications his head began to throb and he felt something strange happen to him.He began to reflect onhis fighting style and considered repeating the punches he had just made. As he did so, Johnfelt subtle guidance within his own mind telling him that his wrist was bent and that he had clasped his fingers into a fist the wrong way. The differences were subtle, but this self-correction stemmed from his new basic knowledge of unarmed combat. Excitedly, John decided to look at his character sheet for the first time. He had never bothered before because he hadn''t had a hope of increasing anything.


    John chewed on his lower lip in thought. Character sheets developed from social media platforms in the 21st Century. Back then people used the internet, a primitive form of the Collective, to upload information about their lives. It quickly developed from a source of entertainment into a way for employees and various other entities to judge people based on series of criteria or attributes. People listed all sorts of things from their education to their various skills. It was an easy leap when the internet was integrated into a networked community to make that information accessible to anyone who that the skill to look at it. It today''s world the Collective was able to quantify every aspect about an individual into its own systems. This was why it was somewhat troubling that the Collective could not find a way to quantify John first ability...whatever it was. Everything else seemed to render just fine as exemplified by John''s average scores in all of his other attributes. Even Adaptability seemed to fit within Collective''s identificaiton software. John dismissed his character sheet. In the time that he spent looking, his hands and shins had healed due to his health regeneration and he was able to confidently tell the old man that he was ready to continue.


    The old man nodded sagely. "Good, I see that you have learned the rudiements of unarmed combat. It''s time to teach you a few skills to make it worthwhile."


    Seeing that John was payinig rapt attention, the old man continued. "The first thing you''ll be learning how to do is a non-lethal disarming technique. Do you know what this means?"


    "Uh...that I''ll be learning how to take someones weapon away from them?"If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The man nodded. "Precisely. First we''ll begin with small bladed attacks and as you progress in proficiency we may be able to learn more advanced techniques for larger weapons. Are you ready?"


    John nodded in the affirmative.


    "Good, go grab on of the wooden knives from the storage closet."


    Quietly, John did as he was told and resumed his place in front of the old man.


    "Good, now lunge at me with the knife."


    John obliged and the man didn''t move from his position at all. So fast that John could not percieve what happened, there was a series of smacks and the wooden knife went flying from John''s grasp. Standing stupidly in front of the old man, John looked from his hand to the knife and finally to the old man''s smiling face.


    "Uh...what?" John said with all of his five points in intelligence.


    The old man laughed. "You did not see what happened?"


    "No, one second I had the knife, and one second I didn''t. What happened?"


    The old man moved closer and gripped John''s wrist. "All I did was a simple disarming technique. Although, I did it so quickly that you did not have time to notice. With one hand, I slapped the inside of your wrist." The man demonstrated slowly. "The second thing I did was slap the outside of your hand holding the knife." The man placed his hand on John''s wrist and hand and pantomimed a scissoring motion using his two hands against John''s wrist. John noticed that as his own wrist bent inward his hand naturally unclenched and his fingers extended. John realized that if done quickly enough the knife would go flying to the ground. John was elated at this discovery.


    "I think I get it! Can we try it again?"


    The old man nodded and gestured for John to pick up the knife again. John and the old man quickly found a rhythym. John would attack in a variety of positions and angles and the old man would disarm him easily. Afterwards, the old man would take the knife and do the same to John. At first John could not disarm any of the stirkes and a series of bruises began to form on his body where the knife was able to make contact. Pain became a great teacher as John quickly gained proficiency with the disarming technique. After John was able to stop an entire series of strikes from various angles and positions, the master called a halt.


    "Great job. This technique is only applicable when your enemy is weaker, surprised, or slower than you are. It''s a great tehcnique to surprise someone but in any other situation it will not be sufficient to disarm your opponent. In this case you also need to learn how to pit your opponent''s energy against them and disarm them even if they''re stronger or better prepared. Are you ready?"


    John nodded excitedly and the master threw the wooden knife at him. John caught it gracefully and smiled. Ge had become much more familiar with a knife since this training started. He may take knife combat as his next training simulation in order to crystalize the information in his mind.


    The old man gestured for John to attack him and so John did. This time, instead of a quick slapping motion, the old man blocked John''s stirke by crossing his wrists over John''s and then using a twisting motion, he locked up John wrist. Immediately pain spiked through John''s arm and he found himself involuntarily dropping to the ground. The knife was an afterthought as it cluttered to the ground. The old man gently helped John up and then showed his slowly what he did. After that, the same rhythym was established as John attacked from a variety of positions and angles and the old man defended from them masterfully.


    Soon it was John''s turn to attempt to defend from the old man''s attacks and he took to it with vigor. Faster than before, John was able to disarm the man over and over. The old man gave him a small smile and then began to attack faster and faster. Sometimes John would have to use the quick slapping method in order to disarm the knife. At other times when the old man put some of his prodigious strength behind the strike John would have to use the joint lock disarming technique in order to subdue him. This continued fasterand faster until John entered a sort of trance. In it, he and the old man became a series of actions and reactions. John had never felt anything like it before. As soon as the dance of action and reaction ceased. Panting John disengaged from the master and a series of notifications appeared in his view.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Ability Acquired!Inner Focus Lvl 1:Whether casting magic, utilizing combat abilities, or performing acrobatics an inner focus is required. Inner Focus adds a multiplier to Focus, Endurance, Dexterity, and Agility.Current Bonus:1.25.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Ability Acquired!Knife Mastery Lvl 1:Knives can be used for a variety of functions. They can be used to quietly assassinate, pick a lock, or be thrown into unsuspecting adversary. Besides combat, they can be used as a kitchen tool, crafting accessory, and myriad other uses. Knife Mastery adds a current Damage Percentrage increase and a Dexterity and Agility Modifier when using a knife. Current Damage increase: 1%Current Bonus:1.25.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Skill Acquired!Disarm Lvl 1: Disarm can be used either armed or unarmed. However, success depends upon your knowledge in both the style of combat you use and the style of combat your opponent is using. As Disarm is levelled up, more weapons can be disarmed while using various types of weaponry.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Due to yourAdaptability,Focus has increased by 2,Agility has increased by 2,Dexterity has increased by 1 andEndurance has increased by 1.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Congratulations! You have levelled up! You are now Level 2. You have 3 Attribute Points to distribute.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    As soon as the last notification was dismissed, a feeling of euphoria took over John''s body. It felt as if every cell within John''s body was flooded with an arcane energy. Every part of John''s body was tingling with an almost sexual pleasure. Almost as soon as it started, it was gone and it left John feeling as if the world was just a little bit darker in comparison. If this was how levelling up felt everytime then John could imagine why people would do anything to level up. The Collective made it a pleasant experience. It seemed almost like...conditioning. John found himself on the ground once it was over and looked up at the old man. The orange light of the setting sunhighlighted his features with a fiery glow. The planes of his face were dark with shadows and he could have looked intimidatingif not for the small smile he quietly wore. He truly was the perfect balance of strength and gentleness. John wished he could find half of the inner peace that seemed tangible when looking at the elderly man.


    The man abruptly broke John from his reverie. "Well youngling, this is all I have to teach you for now. Please come again for more advanced training."


    The man began to turn and leftfrom the way he had come. John stumbled up and went to follow him.


    "Wait. What do I call you?"


    The old man half turned as if surprised. "I am Sakugawa and if you decide to come back, you may call me Sensei."


    The man left John on the floor of the room with more questions than answers. Part of this training was obviously fictitious and generated by Collective but Sakugawa was a real person and this location seemed familiar to him somehow.

 Ch. 4 Outlaw

    The simulation abruptly came to an end and John found himself back in his roof on what passed for a bed. He checked the time in the corner of his vision and found that only a few minutes had passed by. Originally, this sort of time distortion made it easier to peddle mindless entertainment upon the masses. Collective was talented at finding ways tosiphon offContribution Points from its citizenry. If your simulation lasted for only a few minutes but felt as if you spend hours or days within it, then what was to stop you from just buying one more? Especially since these simulations weren¡¯t limited to the skills that John was trying to learn, they included all sorts of exotic and tantalizing scenarios to play out. For John, this would be something to capitalize on. Satisfied with the skills and abilities that he had acquired, John decided that it was time to move on into the second phase of his plan.


    To be successful and make it off planet, you had to have a combat class. Thereare a host of other professions ranging from Fabricator to Miner, but theseare strictly controlled by their respective guilds and those crafters went to the planets which were assigned to them by the guild. Combat classes on the other hand had all of the freedom in the universe. They were able to interact with Collective for their quests rather than through a guild. After all, Collective¡¯s primary mission was to advance humanity through the universe. It didn¡¯t care how well you could carve a statue or paint a painting. Sure, they could earn Points just like anyone else, but more Points were available for finding and retaining resources for weaponry rather than for art. As a result, Earth, and humanity in general, had transitioned from a place and a people where art was valued, architecture was pleasing to the eye, and language evolved to express beauty to what it was today. Nowadays, buildings were gray, lifeless, and defensible. If you wanted beauty¡­well¡­there¡¯s a simulation for that. For these reasons and more, John couldn¡¯t even consider a crafting class.


    Outside of that, there were three basic classes and each person could only choose one. The three classes were Soldiers, Outlaws, and Scions. Soldiers and Scions were humanity¡¯s main classes. These were the heavy hitters that pushed back the various species of the universe. The last class, Outlaws, were the individuals that performed the less than honorable quests that no one else wanted. Sometimes, they were extremely profitable but that was because the danger was significantly higher. Each basic class had its own specializations. For an Outlaw, they could specialize as an Infiltrator, a Hunter, or an Assassin.


    John surmised that his only chance to make it big the way he expected would be to specialize as a Ranger. Rangers were the ones used to push behind enemy lines in adversarial planets. They were a jack of all trades that operated as far off the beaten trail as possible. They were often sent in alone, to gather intelligence, capture resources, or scope out enemy fortifications. After that, Infiltrators or Assassins were sent in depending upon the nature of the quest.


    This class would be perfect for John because it kept him mostly out of Collective¡¯s watchful eye and would give him the perfect excuse not to party up with any other groups. Finally, the biggest reason that John would seek to become an Outlaw and then eventually a Hunter is for the sheer fact that none of the class instructors would help him here on Earth. Soldiers and Psions were required to report themselves to the ruling administration of the planet. Outlaws, by their very name, did not. Outlaws performed the necessary and unpleasant tasks that were required of humanity in order to succeed. However, no administration wanted to be too comfortable with any person who would be willing to do such deeds.


    Swinging his feet from his bed, John got up and walked over to the small storage cabinet in his room. Opening it up, he picked up a packet of rations. It was a small silvery package. It provided no stat boosts and merely kept him alive. It was made form sort of fungus and with a little bit of water, itturned into a small loaf of bread. Walking over to the sink that doubled as a toilet, John poured a small amount of water onto the ration and watched it grow in front of his eyes. For John''s whole life, this was all hehad been able to eat. The bread itself contained all the necessary vitamins, macros, and minerals necessary to keep the avatar alive and that was it. Everything else needed to be paid for.


    Listlessly, John chewed his meal as he decided where he needed to go to get his class. Every city had its own underbelly, but John himself had never interacted much with the world outside of his room. There simply wasn¡¯t a reason to do so. Work was a transfer of the mind away and he couldn¡¯t afford anything else. Realistically, there were quests to do around Earth but they were few and far between. People came back to the inner planets in order to retire or pick up a trade rather than make a living. The only ones who operated in any manner resembling a living were Outlaws and they only took in people who realistically had a shot of getting off world and generating more Points. Before now, John wouldn¡¯t have had a hope of joining them. John internally shrugged. Maybe Collective could help.


    ¡°Collective, I would like to become an Outlaw. Please direct me to the nearest class trainer.¡±


    John, it would be impossible for you to become an Outlaw with your current level of¡­there seems to be a mistake with my sensors John. It seems that you¡¯re level two. You have levelling potential. I must reconsider your request.


    After a moment Collective spoke into his head again.


    John, the Collective has approved of your request to seek a class trainer. Generating quest guide now.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Quest Acquired! Becoming an Outlaw I: You have expressed your desire to become an Outlaw to Collective. While Collective cannot generate Outlaw quests organically, it can direct you to a known outlaw in order to begin your journey. The nearest Outlaw is William Crow. You have been provided the means to find William Crow and try and become an Outlaw.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    John hopped up and started following the quest line. He exited his room and entered a long and dim hallway with scores of doors that looked exactly like his. There were no outward markings to designate the occupants within since Collective could guide anyone to anywhere. As followed the quest line down the hallway, he was startled by a door just a few down from his own. It was brightly painted with cheap paint. Verdant greens illustrated a bright clearing with a darkened forest. Light filtered into the clearing and lit up the form of a rearing horse. It was painted in whites and greys and it seemed almost ephemeral in nature. John placed his hand on the painting as if just by touching it he could somehow be closer to the soul of the person that placed it there. Horses disappeared from Earth a long time ago. According to historical records, they were only used for entertainment and leisure. There was no need for them now. A little sadly, John removed his hand and continued down the hall. He quickly forgot about the horse and the fleeting feeling of warmth in a cold, gray hallway.


    John to the lift to the ground floor of the building. As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath of the air around him. It tasted just as sanitized as the air within. The buildings around him all looked like copies of the one he just exited. There were no visible signs of habitation from the outside. Any information that John would ever need could be pulled up with a thought through the Collective. John took a moment to collect himself and then he took the first step in what he hoped would be a new life. If he were lucky, he might never have to return to the prison-like building where he had spent his whole life.


    John¡¯s journey took him from the well-lit, if borings buildings of his neighborhood into the increasingly run down city center. As he drew closer to the center of the city, more signs of habitation began to be seen. More people were on the street. Most were wearing the same bland clothing that John himself wore. A basic beige tunic and trousers with dark synthetic leather boots was common for both men and women. They were the clothes issued to them and they were both practical and cheaply fabricated. John began to notice flashes of greenery in the otherwise bland surroundings. Sometimes a small garden could be seen poking out from a balcony or a flash of color found in a storefront. This city did not have much of a selection since most of the people in this areas were Nameless just like John. If they weren¡¯t Nameless then they had a Name that was relatively new and were not part of the established elite. The quest line brought John to an unassuming store front. The outside was just as plain as everything else and there were no windows to give John a hint to the building¡¯s contents. Looking at the Registration helpfully provided by Collective, all John knew was that it was an eating and drinking establishment. Opening the door, John slowly stepped in. The inside was a huge departure from the bland outside. The walls were a deep crimson and large synthetic leather booths dominated the space. To the left of John there was a large old-fashioned bar. The wall behind the bar was loaded with shelving that boasted all manner of tonics and tinctures. The smell of smoke and sweat was heavy in the air and many of the patrons, clad in dark leathers and cloaks were, talking quietly amongst themselves as they smoke cigarettes and cigars.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    John¡¯s entry did not generate much interest. Some of the patrons, looked up to identify the newcomers but once they established that he was lowbie Nameless, they went back to their obviously more important conversations. The bartender was not so dismissive.


    ¡°What do you want Nameless? Your kind aren¡¯t welcome in this kind of establishment.¡±


    The voice was rough with age and more than a hint of condescension. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the bar, John heard the whoosh of the door closing behind him. John took a confident step towards the bar and the scowling bartender. The man had grizzled white hair and looked as if he had seen a full life. His age gave truth to the fact that he could not be a combat class. He didn¡¯t have the ageless appearance that went with a combat class and a bump to charisma. Only people who earned a prestigious Name and had a combat class were granted immortality by the Collective. From then on they were Contributors and Collective used them over and over as a churning assault force against the rest of the universe. Any death would be greeted by respawn in a set respawn location, and the Contributor would find their consciousness uploaded into a new fabricated body with all of their old stats. The only thing they would lose is the progress they made since the last stat gain or level.


    ¡°Well, are you going to answer boy?¡± The man¡¯s brown eyes glinted with distaste.


    John tried to navigate the unfamiliar situation. He had never had to interact with anyone outside of school and the most basic daily interactions.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to buy a drink and to meet someone.¡±


    The man scoffed. ¡°Well, why didn¡¯t you say so? What kind of drink will you be having?¡±


    John looked at the wall of various drinks behind the bartender and didn¡¯t know where to begin. Seeing John¡¯s hesitation, the man smiled cruelly.


    ¡°How about whatever is cheapest? You don¡¯t look like you could afford anything else. Hah! You¡¯re still even in your lowbie clothes.¡±


    John was confused by the term lowbie but didn¡¯t want to speak up and announce his ignorance to everyone else. He tried to speak confidently to the man but the quiver in his voice belied his confidence.


    ¡°Yes, whatever is cheapest please. Tell me, do you know who William Crow is perhaps?¡±


    The man had already started pouring a drink into a glass that looked like brackish water but glanced up at the mention of William Crow¡¯s name with interest.


    ¡°Will Crow you say? Now what could a lowbie Nameless be wantin¡¯ with ol¡¯ Will? He may have fallen on hard times but he hasn¡¯t become so desperate for company tha¡¯ he would be looking to hang around with people such as yourself."


    Will flushed with embarrassment. The man was not making this easy for him. Will lowered his voice as he took the finished drink from the bartender¡¯s hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to learn how to become an Outlaw."


    The man barked out a laugh. ¡°Well lowbie, I doubt you ha¡¯ got the Points lyin¡¯ aroun¡¯ to convince Will ta train ya. He don¡¯t care much for niceties these days since his family kicked him out. He¡¯s trying to eke out a living and all he cares for are Points these days.¡±


    John took the new information in stride. He knew that this wouldn¡¯t be easy. This man confirming the fact just made him more confident. Had it been a walk in the park, then will may have been suspicious. People don¡¯t get to just dramatically change their lives through good fortune and a bit of wishing. It took hard work. People who forgot that¡­died. It was that simple.


    ¡°Well, thanks for your opinion, can you point me to where Will is?¡±


    The man nodded mutely seeming to lose interest in the whole conversation. ¡°Yeah, thas him over there in tha¡¯ corner. He¡¯s the black-haired fellow wearing the grey cloak and green tunic.¡±


    The man pointed to the corner where a young-looking man sat alone staring into a clear drink in front of him. John followed where the man pointed with a muted thank you. John carefully made his way to the table. He took a circuitous route in order to avoid the loud and boisterous denizens of the bar. He was careful not to spill his drink. It had cost him 50 Points automatically withdrawn from his account by Collective. When he drew close to the table he quietly cleared his throat in order to gain the man¡¯s attention. Unheard, the man ignored him. John tried again, this time more loudly. The man blearily looked up. His eyes were red rimmed and irritated, but his eyes were the clearest blue that John had ever seen. They seemed to pin him to his place and all the words that John had mentally rehearsed fled from his head. After a moment of awkwardly standing there the man grumbled out.


    ¡°What do you want Nameless.¡±


    John quickly gained his composure. ¡°I¡¯ve been hearing that a lot. My name is John, may I sit?¡±


    Will gestured noncommittedly and John took that as a good sign. Well¡­at least it wasn¡¯t a totally bad sign. Unsure of where to begin, John decided just to be honest.


    ¡°Well, Mr. Crow, I was given a quest by Collective in order to find you and begin a journey in order to become an Outlaw.¡± Right as he said that, a notification popped up informing John that he had completed the quest. Will look at John in confusion for a moment before carefully replying.


    ¡°Why would Collective do that¡­ I¡¯m not a class trainer. In fact, I¡¯m more of a thief than anything. I¡¯m an infiltrator. I haven¡¯t mastered any of the other specializations that would allow me to teach anyone to become an Outlaw.¡±


    John was stumped. This was new information to him. He hadn¡¯t been sure of what specificities went into becoming a class trainer. He had just assumed that Collective wouldn¡¯t steer him wrong when it came to this quest.


    ¡°Uh sorry Mr. Crow¡­¡±


    Will testily interrupted. ¡°Stop calling me Mr. Crow. Crow is my family Name and I have been banished from their presence. Just call me Will.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. Right. Mr. Uh¡­Will. I don¡¯t know anything more than you. I told Collective I wanted to be an Outlaw and it sent me the quest guide that led right to you. I¡¯m sorry to have bothered you if you weren¡¯t the right person that I needed to talk to.¡±


    John gathered himself to stand and exit the establishment. He decided to leave his drink untouched. As he went to rise Will stopped him.


    ¡°No, wait. I think I have an idea. There are a couple ways to become an Outlaw. The first is to seek out a class trainer who gives you a few quests that are easy to complete. The second is to do something outside of the quest system that makes you worthy of the class. I was sitting here in this bar contemplating how I was going to get back at my family. I decided that I wanted to break into the family manor, rough up some of the guards, and then steal my Infiltrator gear from my family so that I can leave this planet and find work in the frontier planets. I was wondering how I was going to be able to do all of that myself and get away with it. I had almost talked myself out of it until you showed up.


    Will seemed to grow more animated.


    ¡°But if you¡¯re here, that means that this plan has a shot! Collective sent you to me so that you could help me! If we¡¯re successful, you¡¯ll be able to gain a class and the levels necessary to catch a portal out of here. I¡¯ll be able to get my class armor and send one final ¡°fuck you¡± to my family.¡±


    Will gave John a roguish grin and John couldn¡¯t help but think that this Will seemed entirely different from the morose man drinking alone.


    ¡°So, John¡­ are you willing knock up the Crow family manor with me?¡± Will held out his hand.


    John only gave it the briefest thought before he smiled and clasped his hand.


    ¡°I¡¯d be happy to.¡±


    There are moments in life when time seems to run a little bit slower and the universe seems to pause and consider the significance of a course of actions. John felt this pause in the depths of his being and surprisingly he wasn¡¯t afraid anymore. He was determined.

 Ch. 5 Disable

    A quest generated for John as he released Will¡¯s hand.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Quest Acquired! Becoming an Outlaw II: Will has asked you to help him burglarize his family manor. In order to be successful, a series of skills must be learned. Prerequisite Skills: Lockhacking, Sneak, and Disable.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    John frowned in thought and Will picked up on the expression.


    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s up? You¡¯re not thinking of backing out are you?¡±


    John quickly eased his concerns. ¡°No, it¡¯s not that. Collective sent me a quest prompt and in order to do this quest successfully, its saying that I need to know Lockhacking, Sneak, and Disable. Sneak sounds pretty straightforward but what the hell is Lockhacking and Disable?¡±


    Will look relieved. ¡°Here take a seat and I¡¯ll explain it to you. This is an Outlaw bar and so this might be one of the safest places to talk about these subjects. After that, I¡¯ll take you to my place. I have a few local training sims that will help you pick up those skills. While, you¡¯re learning those. I¡¯ll plan our approach on the house.¡±


    John took a seat in the booth across from Will and Will lowered his voice despite his assertions that the topic was safe.


    ¡°So... Lockhacking first. Well, back in the day Lockhacking was known as Lockpicking. It¡¯s essentially the same principle today as it was back then but technology has advanced quite a ways since then. In the past, all oyu had to do was find some specialtypicks andmanipulate mechanicaltumblers to open a lock. So long as you had the dexterity and intelligence, you could throw open a lock no problem. These days, locks rely on biometrics and sensors. Essentially, locks try to verify who you are before they allow you access. The most expensive ones have their own link to the Collective and are able to use Collective¡¯s own sensors to verify identities but those are extremely expensive. The run of the mill locks have their own passive sensors and they can increase in complexity from there.¡±


    John had never had a lock on his door because he had nothing that was worth stealing. For him, these were whole new concepts. Will¡¯s explanation only gave him more questions.


    ¡°So how does someone fool these sensors into thinking they¡¯re someone they¡¯re not?¡±


    Will visibly brightened. ¡°That¡¯s exactly the question! Maybe you¡¯re not just a worthless Nameless. So the hacking portion right? You do that using magic. What do you think magic is?¡±


    John looked at him blankly. He had never had to use magic, never seen it performed, and generally considered it something made up by the elite in order to maintain their competitive edge.


    Will didn¡¯t let John¡¯s ignorance deter him. ¡°Magic is Psionics. Psionics is the manipulation of energy through willpower. We call the potential energy within yourself mana. As your mana pool increases, the potential for you to manipulate energy increases as well. For instance, you¡¯ve heard of Psions throwing around fireballs or striking their enemies with lightning right?¡±


    John shrugged. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard about it. I just assumed that they used some sort of technology or weapon like every other class.¡±


    Will smiled. ¡°Yeah. It is technology. Technology advanced enough becomes synonymous with magic. The lightning that created fire on a dried plain probably seemed like magic to our cave-dwelling ancestors. It¡¯s much the same with psionics. Every avatar is flushed with small robotic creatures called nanites. These tiny robots are the underpinnings of Collective itself and the primary reason we can even expand in the universe. It allows Collective to make upgrades to your avatar if you meet the prerequisites, grant your ability to respawn, and a host of other functions that might as well be magic. In a Nameless like you, they¡¯re inactive unless you demonstrate to Collective that you deserve their activation. Essentially, you¡¯re proving to humanity that you¡¯re going to use this technology to support our dominion over the galaxy. If you¡¯re merely going to become a waste of valuable oxygen, then collective has no reason to activate them for you. You understand?¡±


    ¡°No, not really. I get what you¡¯re saying as far as the nanites are concerned. But how does having robots in my body translate into throwing fireballs around and confusing locks into thinking I¡¯m someone else.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s where skills come in. Skills tell the nanites what to do. It¡¯s a set of instructions that achieve an outcome as decided by the skill. Want to trick a lock into thinking you¡¯re someone else? Use a skill to convert mana into a persona that will trick the sensors. The more complicated the lock? The more mana spent to fool it. As you level up your abilities and the skill itself, your control over the skill, and by extension the nanites, will become more refined and it will be more effective while taking less mana to execute. Obviously your stats are just as important. There is no single stat that guarantees survivability. This is real life and everything works together to keep you alive. That make sense?¡±


    ¡°Sure¡­¡¯ John said slowly. ¡°What about Sneak and Disable?¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Will drawled before placing his hands behind his head and leaning back. ¡°So Sneak works similarly to Lockhacking. Instead of fooling a door¡¯s sensor, you¡¯re fooling Collective¡¯s¡±


    John blinked. ¡°Uh, what?¡± he said stupidly.


    Will dropped his arms from behind his head and shrugged. ¡°You have a HUD right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, so?¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± Will continued. ¡°Everything you see is fed to you by Collective. Your eyes are merely a means to access information and Collective is able to look through you and provide you with information necessary to survive.¡±


    John¡¯s mind tripped over that thought. ¡°So are you saying that what I¡¯m seeing might not be real? That it¡¯s all information fed to me by Collective?¡±


    Will grinned. "Hell kid, maybe I¡¯m just a charming simulation, and you¡¯re still lying in your bed?¡±


    Horror dawned upon John and it was obvious on his face as Will laughed out loud.


    ¡°I¡¯m just messing with your head, kid. Collective isn¡¯t allowed to hijack your consciousness without your permission. That function has been hardcoded into Collective since the beginning. However, Collective does provide you with a constant stream of information and if you have the Sneak skill you can convince Collective¡¯s sensors that you¡¯re something other than you are. At the lowest level you¡¯ll have to use stealth skills in conjunction with sneak because you won¡¯t be able to convince Collective that you¡¯re merely a potted plant, even if you have the same intelligence stats. The best you can hope for is that Sneak makes you just a little bit less noticeable. Hopefully enough that you can do whatever nefarious business you need to do without getting caught.¡±


    John pondered that for a second.


    ¡°Why would Collective allow people to fool its own sensors? That seems counterproductive.¡±


    Will stared at John so intently that John was afraid he said something wrong.


    ¡°The Collective, more than anything understands that war requires sacrifice. There has to be a corps of people who are willing to get themselves dirty for the survival of humanity. That shit in space kid?¡± Will paused to point in the air before continuing. ¡°Those species don¡¯t give a shit about humanity. If we want to survive as a species then we have to continually bring the fight to them or we. Will. Be. Wiped. Out.¡± Will hissed the last part to John.


    John felt cold at the intensity in Will¡¯s eyes. Seeing that John understood, Will continued on like before.


    ¡°That¡¯s why Outlaws exist. We¡¯re not as numerous or as powerful in a straight up fight as the other classes, but we¡¯re a force multiplier and we do the shady shit so that the more prestigious families can take all the glory and Contribution Points. The only thing that makes it easier to swallow is that we get payed significantly more for our work. We get paid much more than someone of an equivalent level in a different class because while no one wants to be an outlaw, they provide a vital service and Collective understands that. Sound good for someone Nameless like you?¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    John started to feel like he was in a little over his head. He cursed inwardly at his previous naivet¨¦.


    ¡°Yeah¡­Will¡­that sounds real good. I¡¯m tired of being at the bottom. I¡¯ve got the chance to level and I¡¯m going to take it.¡±


    Will held his gaze for a moment and the nodded. John took this as his cue to keep going.


    ¡°So, what about the final technique Disable?¡±


    Will looked around before responding slowly.


    ¡°That¡¯s a skill we shouldn¡¯t talk about here. Disable is something of a family skill. It¡¯s the reason my family earned their name in the first place. I¡¯m surprised that Collective even brought it up to you. It must have analyzed your chances of success and found that if you didn¡¯t know Disable then we probably wouldn¡¯t make it.¡±


    Will seemed to be talking to himself more than John. ¡°It makes sense I suppose. All the guards will know how to use the skill and you should be aware of how to defend yourself from it. I¡¯m not technically a part of the family anymore and so I don¡¯t have to be worried about the prohibition of teaching others...¡± Will trailed off before looking back at John.


    ¡°That settles it, I¡¯ll teach it to you but I can¡¯t do it here.¡± Will stood suddenly and John followed him awkwardly.


    John followed Will as Will smoothly navigated his way through the semi-crowded bar. The door slid open automatically for Will and John quickened his fact to keep up with him. Will didn¡¯t give John the chance to catch up as he wolfishly made his way down the sidewalk. John had never seen anyone move the way that Will was so effortlessly. John wondered to himself about the man¡¯s agility and dexterity scores. He looked like a predator on the hunt and he was merely walking. Passerby didn¡¯t hesitate to get out of his way and John followed dutifully in the wake that Will created.


    They quickly made their way from the center of the city and into a neighborhood that was even grungier by comparison. Not once did Will slow down and soon John had to step it up into a half trot in order to stay with him. It got to the point where John stamina began to decline. Eventually, they made it to a unknown alleyway in an even more unknown neighborhood. John tried to query Collective on his location and all he got back was static. He was confused because that had never happened to him before.


    Immersed in thought, John almost crashed into the back of Will. Will had abruptly stopped moving without John noticing. A narrow miss had John stumbling away from Will and crashing into a couple of nearby trash bins. The racket reverberated into the dreary afternoon. Will hissed in annoyance at John casual display of ineptitude.


    ¡°What kind of Outlaw are you expecting to become?¡±


    John remained quiet, assuming correctly that this was a rhetorical question. Will quickly looked to the mouth of the alleyway before stooping to clear away some of the debris on the ground. Underneath some discarded plastic and fast food containers was a symbol on the ground. From John¡¯s position above Will¡¯s crouched form, it looked to be the silhouette of a crow in flight. John watched Will place his palm on the symbol and a subtle grating sound began to be heard. Next to the symbol, a previously hidden doorway retracted into the rest of the building. Satisfied, Will stood and made his way into the entrance. John made his way after him with not a small measure of awe. Secret skills and shadowy lairs were hitting all of the buttons in John¡¯s imagination. He was not disappointed at the interior.


    The interior of the domicile looked opulent. The floor plan was open with the living area, dining room, kitchen, and bedroom all conjoined. The separates between the rooms looked natural and free-flowing. There was a small door in the back of the room that John surmised must be some sort of bathroom. Expensive fabrics draped artfully from old-fashioned rafters and all of the furniture looked plush and comfortable. The rugs were thick and contrasted nicely with the warm lighting in the room. It looked exactly like what John imagined form a secret den. John stood awkwardly in the entryway as the door slid close behind him with a barely audible hermetic hiss. He had never seen anything like this before. His own room couldn¡¯t even be considered in the same league as this.


    While he was staring, Will made his way to the kitchen area, opened the fridge, and pulled a bottle of some unknown liquid out of it. Looking over at John, he misinterpreted his expression.


    ¡°Yeah, I know it¡¯s not much. I wanted something small because I only plan on operating out of here for a short amount of time before we get off planet. I don¡¯t have another bed, so do you mind crashing on the couch until we get out of here?¡±


    Tears involuntarily flooded John¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°You mean, I can stay here?¡±


    Will looked at John with confusion. ¡°Yeah, kid¡­what¡¯s the problem? You want a drink?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just¡­ I¡¯ve never seen a place like this. It¡¯s amazing and the fact that you¡¯re letting me stay is unbelievable.¡±


    Will looked around the apartment as if looking for whatever was causing John to think that way about the small bolt hole. Then he looked at John to see if perhaps the kid was playing a prank on him. With more than a little discomfort he said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re upset about kid. I know you''re Nameless, but surely your folks had a place about this size where you could experience some of the same amenities. This isn¡¯t exactly high fashion for the inner worlds. Maybe in the outer territories some of this stuff would be hard to come by.¡±


    John lowered his head and collected himself.


    ¡°Yeah¡­about that. I never had any parents. I¡¯ve been living off of the government for as long as I can remember. I barely make enough Points to cover what I owe the Collective for basic subsistence. That¡¯s why I want to be an Outlaw. It¡¯s the only way I¡¯ll be able to escape this rock.¡±


    Will studied John carefully. He didn¡¯t seem to be lying and that would mean that the kid had been living in the poorest conditions the Collective had to offer. Yeah, he could survive. But most kids his age either turned to drugs or to crime to make ends meet. Somehow this kid had avoided both those ends. Still, his austere childhood may be a blessing when he finally became an Outlaw. They weren¡¯t known for living the easy life.


    Will took his time replying. He didn¡¯t want to give the kid the impression that he pitied him. He didn¡¯t. It¡¯s a hard life for everyone. The Collective doesn¡¯t breed cowards, fools, or weaklings. It tends to kill them off and John had yet to prove himself otherwise. However, Will considered that his help wouldn¡¯t go amiss with this kid and maybe he could help keep him alive. For a fee, of course. Decision made, he decided to assure John.


    ¡°Well kid, then this heist is your chance to make something of yourself. Maybe not a name, I doubt Collective will reward you with a name. But at the very least, a portal off this rock to somewhere you could make a name for yourself. Take a seat on the couch, I¡¯ve got to grab the training simulation so that you can pick up some skills before we head out.


    Relieved, John quietly did as he was told. He didn¡¯t want to make more of a nuisance of himself to his somewhat mysterious benefactor. Soon enough Will returned from rummaging in a drawer in the kitchen. He came back with two small triangular prisms. The looked like small pyramids. One glowed a faint green, and the other a dark purple. Gesturing to them, Will addressed John on the couch.


    ¡°So these are simulation crystals or sims for short. Collective can upload your consciousness into a simulation when you buy from it. Those simulations can¡¯t teach you anything because Collective doesn¡¯t count it as a novel experience. These things however, count as novel experiences to Collective and these kinds of crystals are the way that families pass down certain techniques and skills. These two are for Lockhacking and Sneak. They were created by Outlaws in order to train lowbies. They only provide the level one skills.¡±


    John looked at the sims dubiously. He had a few questions but he still didn¡¯t want to look like an idiot and so he kept quiet and merely nodded. Will didn¡¯t miss the gesture and decided not to call John on it. The kid was trying to act determined. Instead he went on.


    ¡°Before we do that however, we need to talk about Disable.¡± He waited for John¡¯s nod of assent before continuing. ¡°Disable is a skill that has been passed down through my family and it is the reason we earned our name in the first place. The origins are lost to time. Intentionally, I imagine to keep other families form discovering the secret but you need to understand the skill because it is likely the guards of my families¡¯ estate will be using the skill and you need to know how to defend. Now, do you know any Unarmed Combat?¡±


    John nodded. ¡°Good, let¡¯s get this stuff cleared out of the way. John and Will started clearing the furniture in order to create a blank space within the center of the apartment. Once that was done, John and Will took combat stances opposite of each other.


    ¡°Alright, kid. Throw a punch at me.¡±


    John nervously looked at Will from between his fists and tried to hit him with a weak right jab. Will just casually blocked it and scowled.


    ¡°Come on kid, you can do much better than that. If you can¡¯t, then I¡¯ll go find some other desperate lowbie from Collective to train. I¡¯m passing on priceless knowledge to you and your acting like some sort of yellow-bellied child. With this attitude you¡¯re not even worth becoming an Outlaw, much less a mentee of mine.¡±


    Incensed, John threw a hard left cross at Will. He blocked it just as effortlessly.


    ¡°There. Much better. Keep hitting like that.¡±


    After a few more unsuccessful hits, Will reacted violently to John¡¯s next punch. Ducking under John¡¯s left hook, he grabbed Johns wrist with one hand and slapped John¡¯s shoulder with a flash of blue. The light didn¡¯t hurt John but it surprised him. Will let go of the arm and moved back into a defensive stance. John created some distance and went to bring his arm back up into a striking position. His arm didn¡¯t move. It didn¡¯t even respond. From the shoulder down, his arm just hung limply. Fear burst out of him and before he could do so much as speak, Will advanced with murder in his eyes. A quick jab to Johns other shoulder came at lightning speed followed by two kicks to both of his thighs. John crashed the ground helpless and cracked his head on the ground. The last thing he saw was Will¡¯s savage grin before he blacked out.

 Ch. 6 Progress

    The first thing that John noticed when he drifted back into consciousness was Will¡¯s grinning face. In moments, John went from a dreamy, slow awakening to his body rocketing into combat mode. Without his control, John''s pulse skyrocketed, his pupils dilated, and the muscles in his own body seemed pumped full of energy. In short, his body felt more alive than it ever had. Will only had time to notice this before he felt an energy rise up from within him. The presence swept away Will¡¯s consciousness with as little regard as the wind does for a pile of dead leaves. Swept away, what was left tried to throw a punch at Willis face despite the unfavorable conditions on the ground.


    Surprised, Will leapt back before the punch could connect and shifted into his own stance by instinct.


    Propelled by some unknown energy, John involuntarily snarled and leapt to his feet. Will found himself frightened by John¡¯s expression. John was staring deep into Will¡¯s eyes but there was no one there. The eyes were dead. Those eyes reminded Will of the vast emptiness between the stars. Will¡¯s very being was repelled by the creature in the room with him. The very walls seemed to close in on Will as what was left of John took stumbling, uncoordinated steps toward him. It only advanced a couple steps towards Will before John seemingly came back to his senses. Looking down at his hands and then back at will with confusion, John spoke.


    "Hey Will, what happened?"


    Will looked at the kid like he was crazy. He couldn¡¯t recognize the kid that had become such a normal part of his life in such a short amount of time with the creature that had just invaded his home.


    "What do you mean what happened? You just tried to attack me!"


    John looked around as if for some support.


    John scoffed. "Will, I could''ve sworn you hit me a bunch of times and I cracked my skull on the ground. What sense does it make that I attacked you?"


    Will chuckled good naturedly despite his immediate reservations. Will wasn¡¯t an idiot. Whatever happened to the kid wasn¡¯t normal but obviously John didn¡¯t have the deception in him to lie to Will. Will let the moment pass but promised to take a glance at John¡¯s character sheet as soon as John gave him the permission. "Alright kid, you''re right. You ready to learn how I did it?"


    Excitement shone in John''s eyes as he forgot all about Will making him black out.


    "Yeah! What the hell was that? One moment I was fighting you." John trailed off as he noticed Will''s smirk. "Well, sort of fighting you." The smirk deepened. "OK, getting my ass kicked..." At Will''s open grin, John moved on quickly. "...and then you ramped it up a notch and there was a flash of blue light and all of a sudden I couldn''t use that limb."


    Will let John off the hook. "That''s not a bad explanation. All I did was use the skill Disable. The point of the move is to well¡­disable your opponent. Even a rock head like you should be able to remember that much. So you remember mana right?"


    John nodded.


    "So the mana in your body generates what we call an aura. Auras are useful, if you can read them, because it can give you an idea of the potential energy a person possesses. Over time, what skills you use, what abilities you have, and how you use them affect the look of your aura. Everyone is unique. Even someone who has the exact same class with the exact same abilities won''t have the exact same aura. It''s for this reason that Assassins are skilled in Aural Detection. Because there are plenty of ways to fool biometrics and other scanners but there are few ways of changing your aura outside of simply suppressing it."


    John sighed. "That''s interesting and all, but how does that relate to Disable."


    Will gave John an annoyed look. "I''m getting there kid. This is one of the biggest secrets my family has to offer and you want me to just hand deliver it you like it''s a damn pizza."


    John look confused. "What''s a pizza?"


    Will stared at the ceiling and began muttering to himself. "Collective save me from idiots. He doesn''t even know what a pizza is."


    Will leveled his gaze back on John. "As I was saying. In order to use Disable, you have to manipulate your own aura into the other person with each strike. It''s different from psionics because you''re not using your mana to transform the energy around you into something else. Instead, you''re using the energy that your body naturally produces in order to affect your enemy. In short, it''s a focus and endurance based skill rather than a willpower and intelligent based one. Questions?"


    ¡°No, Will. I still have no idea how to do what you¡¯re saying, but I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re getting to that.¡±


    Will gave John a wry glance. There was something about this kid that made you just want to like him. Maybe it was the kicked puppy dog look the kid kept giving him. It¡¯s as if the kid''s very being was just reaching out for some companionship. The loneliness in Will¡¯s own heart wanted to reciprocate. He smiled.


    ¡°Yeah John. I¡¯m getting to that. It¡¯s going to be a bit difficult for you since you weren¡¯t raised with Aural Sight like I was, but you¡¯re going to have to try and watch my aura in the visible spectrum as I use it augment my attacks. It¡¯s a separate ability that I might teach you later.To really learndisable you just have to focus on pushing your own energy into your opponent. Take your stance.¡±


    Groaning. John pulled himself into a modified boxing stance. Once leg was forward while his weight was distributed to the rear foot. His hands, raised to protect his face, were slightly opened in order to grab an opponent¡¯s limb. While he didn¡¯t learn this in the Unarmed Combat I simulation, after watching Will fight, he realized that having his hands open might be the difference between a successful attack and a fumbling attempt.


    Will merely watched the positioning of John¡¯s body and the placement of his hands. A few minor corrections later and Will was satisfied. He moved into his own stance. Soon he focused on his own body and let his natural energy augment his limbs. The aura was invisible to most practitioners, but to Will¡¯s eyes the blue of his aura began to surround his body. It looked like bright blue water vapor evaporating off of the surface of his skin. Around his hands and shins, the aura could be seen to be thickening until it resembled an almost transparent armor. Ready, will looked up at John.


    As soon as he looked up, John dropped his stance and started clutching his head. A low groan could be heard. The moment lasted but a couple seconds and then notifications began to flash in John¡¯s view.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Your Adaptability and [???] have granted you the skill Aural Sight.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Skill Acquired! Aural Sight Lvl 1: Aural sight is the ability to see the auras of individuals around you. At the lowest levels, Aural Sight only allows the user to see and understand basic qualities of an aura. As the skill develops, the user will be able to understand more information about their target. Should the target of Aural Sight have a higher level Aura Suppression, the user will be unable to retrieve any information. Cost: 10 Mana per Second.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    Will looked at John with a little concern until John got back into his stance grinning.


    Bemused, Will asked him ¡°hey kid, you playing possum on me? Pretending to have a headache won¡¯t keep me from whipping you up and down this living room.¡±


    John just grinned. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good Will, I just learned how to use Aural Sight!¡±


    Will, frowned. That skill should have taken him much longer to learn. Will wondered if this sudden acquisition was related to the behavior that will demonstrated earlier. Putting false cheer into his voice, he decided to ask.


    ¡°That¡¯s great, John. It took me a much longer time to learn how to use that skill, how do you think you learned it so quickly?¡±


    John¡¯s previously open face became guarded. ¡°Uh..I donno will. I guess I just pick these kind of things up quickly.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Will could tell that John was lying but decided not to press the kid on the matter. They would have plenty of time together before they went to go rob his family manor. The truth would come out eventually. It always does.


    ¡°Alright, well activate your sight and tell me what you see.¡±


    John¡¯s feeling of fear receded as Will seemed to drop interest in his new found abilities. John really liked Will but he didn¡¯t know what Will would do if he found out that John had a rare ability. People died for much less and even though Will had treated him well so far, there was no reason to believe that Will wouldn¡¯t turn John into his family as some kind of pet experiment to reclaim his place. Every time he thought about mentioning the strange presence within him to Will, a strange foreboding would overcome him and he would shy away from talking about it.


    Will cleared his throat and John was jarred from his own thoughts.


    ¡°Any day now kid. I may be immortal but that doesn¡¯t mean I enjoy wasting time on fools.¡±


    John¡¯s face grew heated and he activated his Aural Sight. A strange pressure built behind his eyes for a few moments until a strange popping sensation occurred. Once that happened John could see a blue fire licking upon Will¡¯s skin. It was beautiful. The fire was the exact same shade of blue as Will¡¯s piercing blue eyes. A short while later the vision faded, as John¡¯s mana expended itself. His awe was all over his face.


    Will smiled in response. ¡°you get a good look kid? What did you see?¡± Will was genuinely curious as everyone¡¯s Aural Sight worked a little bit differently.


    John exuberantly responded. ¡°Will! You were lit up with blue fire! It was transparent and it seemed to be focused on various points around your body.¡±


    ¡°Good job, kid. How many points did you notice before the sight ran out?¡±


    John took a moment to think about it.


    ¡°Well, there was a line of points that were centered vertically on your body, but I¡¯m not sure how many there were. It was hard to distinguish them from the rest of the flame. The only thing I really noticed was your hands and shins. There seemed to be a feeling of danger emanating from those points.¡°


    Will started to think aloud. ¡°Huh¡­that¡¯s strange kid. Most people notice the sources of the aura first rather than anything else. Seems like you¡¯re primed to notice anything that could be dangerous to you. Feelings from the sight don¡¯t tend to develop for at least a few more levels. Correctly interpreting those feelings is even more difficult.¡±


    John just looked at the floor. He was afraid that if Will saw his guilty expression he would immediately request to see his character sheet or to kick him out. Thankfully, Will seemed to take the information in stride.


    ¡°Oh well, time to continue. I¡¯m going to attack you once again and I want you to block but also try to feel the energy emanating from my body. When your mana regenerates, use your sight sparingly as I strike in order to help you feel the difference in the strikes. To begin with, I¡¯m going to alternate my strikes. Some will be augmented and some will not. The ones that are augmented won¡¯t be able to disable you. Right now, we¡¯re just trying to get you to feel the difference in my strikes so that hopefully you can feel the difference in yourself. I thought we would be spending at least a week on this training but you seem to be picking it up fairly quickly. I hope we can finish this and then while you¡¯re training in the sims, I¡¯ll begin planning the manor heist. Alright kid, any questions before we begin?¡±


    Before the ¡°o¡± in ¡°No¡± even left John¡¯s mouth, will had already attacked. Awkwardly, John blocked the first salvo of strikes before he felt himself slipping into Inner Focus. Once that happened his defense smoothed itself out. The strikes and blocks began to feel like a dance between the two men. There was no room to talk in the quick sparring and John tuned everything out but his own breathing and the blocking of the next strikes. John could tell that Will was holding back both in terms of speed and strength but John began to lose himself in the patterns of striking and blocking. Every now and then, Will would throw a wild punch or a quick kick and John would have to adjust his defense to take into account the stray strikes.


    As this went on, John began to realize that the seemingly random attacks that Will was throwing actually had a purpose. They began to feel subtly different than the rest of Will¡¯s strikes. There were a touch stronger and touch faster than the rest of the salvo. In this dance that was as regular as a metronome, they began to feel completely out of place. As more time went on they were jarring in their irregularity. As if Will could sense this in John, the pace of the fighting abruptly increased and the complexity of the maneuvers increased. No longer was the pattern jab, jab, cross, hook, hook, undercut, jab. It was instead random and chaotic and John¡¯s Inner Focus was strained to its limit as he had to block the new strikes. This too began to feel familiar as soon as the most unforeseen strikes felt just as odd to him as before. However, these strikes left quickly fading spots of numbness where they landed. Something twisted in John¡¯s gut as he felt the numbness began to spread as each successful hit lengthened the duration and the intensity of the numbness.


    John found himself growing angrier and angrier as his reactions began to slow and his limbs started not to respond to his commands. Abruptly his anger crashed over him and on the next strike, John¡¯s Aural Sight activated without conscious thought and John noticed the distinctive blue fire covering Will¡¯s hand. With a growl, John blocked and black fire burst from the point of contact.


    Noticing this, Will only grinned and increased the pace of his attack. Now, every strike came laced with blue fire and John had to abruptly decide whether he needed to block or dodge the incoming strike. Every time he needed to block black fire would reflexively come from the point and defend him from the influence of Disable. In the meantime, the anger with John kept growing. He kept being fed thoughts that objectively did not feel like his own. But in the moment they were soothing. Will was trying to embarrass John. Will just wanted to use John for his own good. Will was only teaching John Disable so that he could frame him for the heist on the manner. Will didn¡¯t care about John. He never cared about John. In fact, right after this, he would kick John out of his house and tell him never to come back. John would have to live in that lifeless, grey room for the rest of his life. He was a poor, sad Nameless and he would die that way.


    John yelled out loud in anger. Abruptly the fight changed. No longer was John merely blocking, he began to attack Will back. Black fire blossomed on John¡¯s fists as he struck out at Will with increasing ferocity. Noticing this increase in aggression, Will decided to deescalate the situation before whatever thing possessed John before would take over. After a rapid exchange of blows, John realized he couldn¡¯t move his arms. The attack was so quick that John didn¡¯t even see it happen and the surprise snapped him out of his anger. He looked up at Will blankly.


    ¡°Woah¡± he whispered.


    Will smiled indulgently. ¡°Woah, indeed kid. If I didn¡¯t know any better I would say that you had been training these skills for weeks. It seems like you¡¯re an adaptable little survivor. We may just have a chance at this thing.¡±


    John inwardly cringed at the use of the world adaptable but nothing couldn''t keep the smile off of his face as he noticed that he had a series of notifications.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Ability Leveled Up! Unarmed Combat is now Lvl 2! Ability Leveled Up! Inner Focus is now Lvl 2!</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Skill Acquired! Disable Lvl 1: Disable allows a user to project their aura into their opponent. At the lowest levels it causes numbness and disorientation. At the higher levels, limbs can be completely disabled and organs completely stopped. This skill was discovered by the Crow family and only those instructed by a member of the Crow family may be able to use it.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Ability Acquired! Aura Manipulation Lvl 1: Aura Manipulation allows the user to refine the aura for both attack and defense the higher this ability is leveled, the less Aural Abilities cost. Once all of the aural abilities are learned, this Ability will morph into Aural Mastery. Additionally, this ability provides a small bonus to focus and endurance.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>You have levelled up! You are now Lvl 3! You have six stat points to distribute.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    As the feeling of euphoria enveloped John¡¯s body, he was reminded once again why levelling up was a magical thing. He was riding a high of accomplishment and pride when Will brought him crashing back to reality.


    ¡°Collective, only level 3?! No wonder you¡¯re so useless. What have you been doing with your stat points?¡±


    The air was abruptly let out of John¡¯s sails. ¡°Well, nothing so far. I wasn¡¯t sure what I should put them in and how that would affect becoming an Outlaw.¡±


    ¡°Well kid, at least that¡¯s a small mercy.¡± Grabbing a nearby rag, Will wiped the sweat from his brow before grabbing another one and throwing it at John. He gave John a roguish grin. ¡°Just means we¡¯ll have to think of some unorthodox training methods to get your level up.¡± John quailed at the evil glint in Will¡¯s eyes. Without thinking about it he backed away slowly. The gesture wasn¡¯t missed by Will who turned to go back in the kitchen. He called over his shoulder.


    ¡°Hey, grab those two sims and I¡¯ll start making some food. By the time you get done with both of them. I¡¯ll have some food cooked and then we can sit down to plan a training regimen.¡±


    John wiped the sweat form his body with the rag that Will threw at him and then mad ehis way back to the couch with the waiting sims. Sitting down he stared at them both.


    ¡°Hey Will, which one should I do first?¡±


    Will looked over curiously. ¡°Sneak, the purple one will help you, with the second one, Lockhacking. A word of warning, John. Unlike in Collective¡¯s simulations, you can fail these. The consequences aren¡¯t fatal¡­but they can be unpleasant. Outlaws don¡¯t believe in soft lessons. You¡¯re going to learn a skill, but you might not like what else you learn.¡±


    John flashed him an innocent smile. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Will. I¡¯ll be able to do it. We have to anyway, right? This is the only way to get better.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­you¡¯re right John it¡¯s the only way.¡±


    Satisfied, John looked into the depths of the glowing crystal and Will watched as John¡¯s eyes seemed to fade as his consciousness was transported to another time and another place. He quietly muttered.


    ¡°Yeah John¡­ It¡¯s the only way. Progress always requires sacrifice.¡± Will shook his head sadly and began to prepare dinner.

 Ch. 7 Sacrifice

    John blinked slowly as his immediate surroundings came into focus. Looking around he found himself in a large wooden square. The planks on the ground were smoothed by the passage of time and booted feet. Old stains from sweat and blood could be seen within the whorls of the wood. Timbers rose from the ground at the four corners of the square and in the center of each side of the square. Horizontal planks of wood surrounded John on all sides. They rose in height to John¡¯s chest and were only broken on one side of the box by a swinging, wooden door. Each of wooden pillars had a bronze sconce, darkened with use.Paraffin wax candles sat in the sconses, dimly lighting the box.


    Glancing up, John noticed a chandelier lit with more of the candles. The spaces between the pillars were dimmed but John could see scores of roughhewn seats arranged in such a fashion that people could watch whatever event this box of wood was designed for. A few men occupied these benches and were watching John as if frozen in time. They were dressed oddly. They wore dark woolen trousers with white buttoned shirts that were rolled up to the forearms. Some were smoking, and some were drinking alcohol straight from dirty glass bottles. Dark woolen vests and caps placed low on their heads completed their ensemble. Sconces within these areas were lit with candles as well but the total effect kept them dimmer than the area that John now found himself and draped the watching men in shadow.


    The age about the place was palpable and the smell of cigar smoke, sweat, and mold was readily apparent. At the very back of the odd room behind the wooden seating area, John noticed that the walls themselves were wooden and rough. Brass fixtures adorned them haphazardly. Unlike the area John was in, these walls were painted a deep crimson. John¡¯s knowledge of Unarmed Combat combined with his basic historical knowledge led John to believe that he was in an ancient bare-knuckle boxing ring. The type that were found within Victorian-Era England and neighborhoods within America. The lack of electricity, reliance of candlelight, and distinctive structure, led John to this conclusion.


    A sudden pressure could be felt in John¡¯s ears and it seemed as if all the sound in the world had been turned on at once. The men began laughing and joking whilst drinking and smoking could now clearly be heard. They were animatedly talking amongst themselves and gesturing to John. One of them, a man much larger than his companions, stood up and took the cigar out of his mouth. His previously jovial expression turned into annoyance as he began to berate John.


    ¡°What are you bloody doing Jonny?! You¡¯re never going to beat Bricky Timmy that way! Christ, get your bloody head in the fight! You¡¯re supposed to be practicing in here and instead you¡¯re dozing off into space. That¡¯s not what Smiley is bloody paying you for! If you lose this fight then you and I will have matching graves when Smiley gets done with us!¡±


    John blinked slowly and turned his head towards the voice. He noticed that his body was positioned in a different fighting stance than what he learned in the last simulation and he slowly lowered his hands in confusion. John was surprised to note that his hands were also different from how he remembered. They were crudely covered in cloth wrappings. The cloth itself was stained with old blood, sweat, and other fluids of unknown origins. What kind of simulation was this?


    As John appraised the man speaking to him. He felt a piece of his personality being subsumed. He began to slowly remember who Jonny was with the sort of logic found only in dreams. He was John but he was also Jonny. That¡¯s right. His name was Jonny. He could remember his life as Jonny. Many parts of it resonated with his own life as John. In this moment, the two identities became one. He recognized the man yelling at him now. It was Patsy. Patsy McGinnis was his boxing mentor and benefactor.


    He was training for his upcoming fight with Bricky Timmy and he was spacing out as he was thinking about¡­something¡­Jonny in characteristic fashion, quickly dismissed the thoughts that wouldn¡¯t seem to coalesce in his mind. He rushed to respond to Patsy before Patsy really got fired up. Once that started it was damn near impossible to get him to calm down again without a fight or a pint. He was pretty evenly split on which he liked more.


    ¡°Eh Patsy, what are you bloody talking about? I¡¯m right here aren¡¯t I? We¡¯ve been going through the same tired patterns for hours now. We¡¯ve been at it since the sun came up. You know you don¡¯t need to worry about the fight with Timmy. Everybody knows that he¡¯s gotten slow in his old age. It¡¯s a right shame innit but that¡¯s the score, Patsy.¡±


    Patsy growled. ¡°Don¡¯t sell me a dog, Jonny. The only way you¡¯ll beat Bricky Timmy is if you keep practicing. Timmy hasn¡¯t kept his spot at the top because of luck. He¡¯s a tricky fighter and one of Smiley¡¯s favorites. You¡¯re lucking that your Smiley¡¯s new favorite or you wouldn¡¯t even be getting a chance to fight him yet!¡± His heavy set frame vibrated with suppressed annoyance. He gestured expansively to a group of men with him.


    ¡°But maybe I¡¯m wrong. What do you blokes think? Jonny here wins some collie shangles in that rookery he calls a home, dodges the skinners, and all of a sudden thinks he¡¯s ready to take the bare knuckle boxing game all by himself. Think he needs to stop training?¡±


    The men laughed and gave Patsy all the answers he wanted and Jonny scowled at their responses. Traitors.


    Patsy turned his attention back Jonny.


    ¡°That what you think Jonny? Maybe I should just stop coaching you, promoting your fights, and making sure you fall on the right side of Smiley? Huh, Jonny? Want me to leave you to the streets like the orphan you were? You won¡¯t be able to afford those posh outfits you like so much.¡±


    Jonny looked uncomfortable. Patsy was really working himself up into a frenzy. It sounded like Patsy was worried about something and was just taking it out on him. Jonny decided to reassure him, hoping that might calm him down.


    ¡°Patsy, it isn¡¯t like that. I¡¯m just confident that Timmy isn¡¯t as good as he used to be. I¡¯m undefeated right now and not even the blokes from St. Giles want to send their fighters here to face me. You don¡¯t have to worry, I know you¡¯re the reason that Smiley let me leave the thieving business to come to boxing. I¡¯m thankful. Here, I don¡¯t have to worry about the bobbies and can earn a somewhat honest living.¡±


    Patsy grinned evilly. ¡°Don¡¯t you forget it Jonny. You¡¯d still be breaking into houses and picking pockets without me. Smiley would still be dangling you like a fish on the line if I hadn¡¯t convinced him that you¡¯d be worth more as an established part of the Family. Otherwise you¡¯d still be a no account street rat without protection. I don¡¯t care if the blokes on the street called you the ¡°Ghost¡± or any other bloody nickname. Everybody in the city knows that thieving doesn¡¯t last forever. They always get caught.¡±


    Patsy finally looked uncomfortable and as soon as Jonny noticed the discomfort he was elated. The conversation was over. Patsy surprised him though.


    Hey Jonny, come up here for a second. I have something I¡¯ve got to tell you in private away from these meatheads.¡± Patsy gestured to the bruisers that he usually had as an entourage. Some of them were other boxers but most of them were people that Smiley hired when he wanted to write a message to someone in blood. Patsy was Smiley¡¯s main provider of muscle. Luckily, Jonny hadn¡¯t had to do that sort of business. He was more valuable as a boxer these days than getting snatched up and throw in the gaol. Even worse, he could be thrown into the Queen¡¯s prison. No one walked out of that nightmare.


    Patsy gestured for Jonny to follow him as he wedged his bulk through the benches that everyone else was sitting on and made his way to a shadowed corner of the exhibition ring. Relieved, Jonny followed him away from the others. Patsy sat down and gestured for Jonny to do the same. Jonny did and waited for what Patsy had to say.


    ¡°Listen Jonny, Smiley needs another job from you.¡±


    Jonny felt a spike of fear spread through him as he struggled to control his emotions.


    ¡°What kind of job, Patsy? You just said that I wouldn¡¯t have to anymore thieving for Smiley unless I wanted to do it. Boxing is supposed to be the game now that I¡¯ve proven myself to more profitable as a fighter than as a thief.¡±


    Patsy waved Jonny to silence.


    ¡°I know what I said Jonny. But you know Smiley. He isn¡¯t someone you just go and tell to bugger off. That kind of man will leave you in a hole in the ground so deep and so dark that not even the bobbies will be able to find you. Besides, he said it¡¯ll be worth your while.¡±


    Jonny frowned in thought.


    ¡°Well, how much did he offer?¡±


    Patsy barked a laugh. ¡°Not even going ask what the score is Jonny before you try and jump into the game?¡±


    ¡°Listen Patsy, you know that doesn¡¯t matter to me. I¡¯m one of the best cracksman Smiley has.¡± Jonny gave a dark chuckle. ¡°The rest are either dead or locked up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know Jonny. I know, but that¡¯s not the problem. Smiley wants you to steal from the Lord of Seven Dials. The bloked named himself that. No one gave him the title.Pretentious git isn''t he?¡±


    Patsy looked pained and for a moment and Jonny felt a measure of sympathy for him. Patsy did pull Jonny of the streets when he was a kid and one good turn always deserved another. Jonny owed Patsy his life. In many ways, Jonny had always been a part of ¡°the Family.¡± He had been an orphan and then a thief and now an illegal boxer.


    If it weren¡¯t for Patsy, then Jonny would probably have died long ago. Where didn¡¯t matter. He could¡¯ve died in the streets by catching a stray knife in the back or had a smile carved in his throat. There was a reason Smiley earned his name before becoming the closest thing to a ruler Jonny had ever known. Smiley ruled this neighborhood with an iron and bloody fist. It was well within his power to get rid of Jonny if he became too much of a nuisance. If the underworld didn¡¯t kill him then what passed for legal work could have just as easily. He could¡¯ve died starving or broken in a workhouse as every day was just a new excuse for the London elite to profit of the manual labor from the unwashed working class. At least a death from Smiley was quick. Hell, he could¡¯ve died by some mutton shunter from the Watch pounding his skull in with one of their clubs.


    Instead Jonny was alive right now to hear Patsy give his pitch. It wasn¡¯t much but in a life like Jonny¡¯s, being alive was something to be thankful for. Maybe it was different in the nicer parts of London but Jonny didn¡¯t know. In Jacob¡¯s Island, Smiley¡¯s domain, lives were very cheap things. These thoughts swirled in Jonny¡¯s brain as he responded to Patsy.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m going to do it Patsy. Smiley doesn¡¯t expect anything else.¡± Jonny put some false cheer into his voice. ¡°Besides, it might be fun. It¡¯s been a while since I robbed anything more than a street vendor. My skills need the practice.¡± He gave Patsy a playful grin. ¡°After all, we can¡¯t all be bruisers like you Patsy. Some of us actually have some brains in our skulls that haven¡¯t been beat to bloody hell.¡±


    Patsy was unusually subdued. He didn¡¯t laugh or respond in kind to Jonny¡¯s riposte. Normally, his expressions were expansive and boisterous in keeping with his Irish roots. He was something of a surrogate uncle to Jonny and so Jonny usually humored his outbursts good-naturedly. In fact, Jonny could usually pick up some new curse words from Patsy if he listened carefully enough. Since Jonny had been living on the streets his whole life, that was quit the achievement.


    ¡°Nobody knows, Jonny. Apparently, Smiley knows and he¡¯s going to provide a street rat to act as your crow. The kid knows where the building is, who the Lord is, and what you need to palm. You¡¯ll have to figure the rest out. Smiley didn¡¯t tell me anything else.¡±


    Jonny looked at Patsy with some confusions and said slowly. ¡°That¡¯s not how things are usually done, Patsy.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know lad. That¡¯s not even the worst part.¡± He trailed off.


    Jonny waited silently and merely raised his eyebrow when Patsy didn¡¯t immediately respond.


    Patsy sighed heavily. ¡°You¡¯ve only got two days to do it, Jonny.¡±


    ¡°Two days!? You¡¯re joking. Only two days to case the place, gather the tools I¡¯ll need, and figure out how I¡¯m actually going to steal whatever Smiley wants? Christ, Patsy you¡¯re trying to get me killed!¡±


    With a nervous glance to the other men laughing and talking on the other side of the room. Patsy hurriedly gestured for Jonny to lower his voice.


    ¡°Look. I don¡¯t know, Jonny. All Smiley would say is that the item he wants is only there for one day and since you¡¯re the best, he knows that you can steal it. I only learned about this last night and I¡¯ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you all morning.¡±


    Jonny pursed his lips. ¡°So to sum it all up, you want me to steal an unknown item from an unknown person, for an unknown amount of money for the worst gang boss in Jacob¡¯s Island¡­ all in only two days?¡±


    Patsy laughed with a headsman¡¯s humor. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s about right, Jonny. You don¡¯t even want me to mention what Smiley will do to you if don¡¯t agree.¡±


    Jonny sighed and ran his fingers through his hair tiredly. ¡°Alright, where am I going to meet my crow?¡±


    Patsy clapped his hand on Jonny¡¯s shoulder happy that the awkward conversation that he had been dreading was over.


    ¡°You¡¯ll meet him over by the shankhouse over by the docks. I don¡¯t know what the lad looks like but Smiley was confident that the little crow could find you before you made it there.¡±


    Jonny nodded to Patsy and stood up to leave. Patsy frowned at his departing back.


    ¡°Hey Jonny.¡±


    Jonny half turned. ¡°yeah?¡±


    ¡°Be careful lad, Seven Dials isn¡¯t a place to mess about. If the bobbies don¡¯t catch you, the Lord might, and everything I¡¯ve heard about his gang makes an honest man shudder. Smiley has done some brutal things both himself or having ordered it done, but the Lord makes Smiley look like a priest.¡±


    Jonny just quietly nodded and made his way to where his gym bag was. Jonny thoughtfully stripped and changed into his clothing. He first put on his dark grey work shirt, following the shirt came his dark woolen trousers. Leather work boots went on his feet. No one walked around in anything less around Jacob¡¯s Island. Good boots were priceless in this neighborhood. If you tried to wear anything else, the garbage or the river water would get inside and ruin them quickly. After rolling up his sleeves, Jonny put on a woolen vest to watch the same dubious color as his trousers and finished it with an overcoat to keep away the worst of the autumn chill.


    Like Patsy had mentioned, Jonny had some posh clothing. He even had some that would let him fit in with the upper crust of society in London. He didn¡¯t own them out of a desire to look wealthy. He wore them when he was robbing the rich bastards blind. Sometimes you have to be able to blend in if you want to make the big scores. However, if Jonny walked around here in clothes like that around here, he would be a priceless target for the various dippers, mobsmen, or toolers in the neighborhood.


    The first trick to sneaking around is to wear clothes that resemble the area you¡¯re trying to blend in. From Patsy¡¯s tone, St. Giles was an even more down-trodden place than Jacob¡¯s Island. Jonny had never been because he had never had a reason to go. From a robbery standpoint they didn¡¯t have anything that Jonny himself couldn¡¯t possess and from a fighting standpoint, fights were usually done on neutral ground.


    With this reasoning, Jonny was confident he could blend in. John paused putting on his coat. Where had that errant thought come from? He didn¡¯t usually think about the various methods of sneaking. He knew how to sneak around. He was the best thief in Jacob¡¯s Island. Even Smiley, a terrifying individual otherwise, knew he could rely on Jonny. John shrugged on his jacket, dismissing the thought from his mind and made his way to the exit of the building.


    The smell from outside the building hit him like a stagecoach to the chest. All of the dilapidated buildings around Patsy¡¯s place smelled of rot, decayed foundation, and garbage. Sometimes, in the deeper alleys, the sweet swell of decayed corpses would overpower the senses. Most people tried to stay far away from these places. Each street and alleyway within Jacob¡¯s Island had its own hierarchy of criminals and only the truly desperate would squat in the places where the bobbies feared to go. Even in the main walkways, trash and debris littered the streets. Gutters, small as they were, had been filled with piss and human shit long ago and it would often overflow onto the path. It just added to the aromatic cocktail of Jacob¡¯s Island.


    The best times in Jacob¡¯s Island occurred when a deluge of rain would fall onto the city and wash away the stink and the filth into the Thames. For a brief period the streets would be clean and people wculd be seen walking the streets thankful at the reprieve. But like all slums, it would quickly go back to normal and then people would be rushing around to get out of the streets again. This neighborhood had never seen much wealth pass through. As London industrialized the wealth ended up being at the top and the divide between rich and poor were as wide as ever. It was in situations like this that the working class naturally turned to crime.


    The evidence of this fact was everywhere in the streets. Often windows were cracked or completely busted. Hasty repairs were made with old linens or grungy rags. Nothing was kept clean. People didn¡¯t have the expendable income to waste on niceties and even if they did, no one would take the risk of attracting the seedy underbelly of London with clean facilities. Everyone knew that clean meant money and money made a fine target for the poor and destitute. In some of Jonny¡¯s darker thoughts, he wished for a raging fire to burn down the whole place so that it could be built anew.


    Jonny kicked some of the garbage out of his way as he meandered his way to the docks. The wind started blowing harder from the docks and the chill began to bite his hands and neck. Jonny flipped up the collar of his jacket and pulled a cap from one of its deep pockets. He placed the cap low on his head so that he could observe his surroundings without looking obtrusive. Jonny inwardly cursed the weather, the job from Smiley, and generally everything and anything that had pulled him from the warmth and comfort of Patsy¡¯s place to the reeking shithole that was the docks.


    Jamming his hands into his pockets relieved him of some of the chill but Jonny knew that winter was just around the corner and soon even this coat wouldn¡¯t be enough to protect him from the chill. At least he had some means of staving off the winter. Many in this neighborhood would die from exposure. Sometimes, Jonny would steal clothes from other parts of the town in order to give it to the kids on the street. Many times, even that didn¡¯t help the children. There were plenty of skinners who lurked throughout the neighborhood trying to catch unsuspecting children. They were called skinners in the local jargon because they would literally catch and beat children, take all of their clothes, and leave the kids shivering in the cold. Whenever Jonny was able to catch one, he made sure to give them a thrashing. Jonny remembered the cold winters of his childhood and constantly hiding from the skinners while trying to eke out a meager existence. Now that he was older, he took every opportunity to pay the skinners back for every moment of fear he experienced.


    Jonny had some hope that the wind would at least blow the stench form the docks out and over the Thames but he didn¡¯t have that kind of luck. Instead, it just brought the equally unpleasant smell of rotting fish and ship tar to his nostrils. Jonny picked up his pace, both to get his blood pumping and to avoid the costermongers hawking their wares in the street with their wagons. Costermongers were a bit like merchants. If merchants were poor, tried to buy up everything they could, and then tried to sell it back to the poor in times of hardship for meager earnings. In short, they were bloodsucking parasites and Jonny detested them more than the genteel nobility living in their richly appointed manors with their posh accents and dedicated servants.


    Noticing one of the costermongers loudly advertising his meat pies and yet not paying attention to his cart, Jonny decided to saunter closer. The man was obviously new to the neighborhood. Jonny spied a gang of street rats thinking the same thing he was and as Jonny drew closer like a looming shadow and they scattered off. As Jonny neared the cart, he slowed his stride and appeared casual.


    Many thieves when they were new thought that quick action and a hasty snatch was a better method than calmly and coolly palming an item. What those thieves didn¡¯t realize is that human eyes are drawn to motion. Humans are hunters at heart. Anything that is slow, boring, or innocuous the eyes and the mind tend to disregard. Memory being what it is, it¡¯s quite easy to let a man who looks like he should look, walks like he should walk, and moves like he should move to go completely unnoticed. In contast, fast or jerking motions draw the eye and unwanted attention.


    The smart thief isa smooth thief.A smooth thief is an alive thief.Technology can advance, weapons can get more destructive, and society may improve but tricking the human mind will always remain the same. It was with these thoughts that Jonny snaked a hand out to palm one of the still steaming meat pies and with practiced motions retrieved it smoothly from the wooden cart. The donkey calmly attached to the cart gave Jonny a backward glance and that was the extent of the attention that Jonny garnered before he moved on like the ghost he was known as.


    Jonny continued on his way to the docks. Hs eyes slowly panned the area around him. To a passerby Jonny looked to just be casually strolling but the reality was much different. In a neighborhood like this, you had to know the pulse of the thing. Neighborhoods all worked the same way. They all had a sort of beat. A pulse the guided the actions of the denizens within. Just like a heartbeat it¡¯s hard to listen to your own but it¡¯s still there, quietly ticking away your mortality. The heartbeat of a neighborhood is the common way that people move and interact within their environment.


    Usually, if something isn¡¯t quite right, people will respond even if they don¡¯t consciously understand why they¡¯re doing it. They might grow quiet when a mob boss walks the streets. They might avoid the main avenues if the bobbies were on patrol. These little idiosyncrasies and more are what separates a good cracksman from a dead one. If a thief can remember what the baseline feels like and spends enough time in the area then he can almost have a prescient understanding of what is happening and what may be about to happen.


    This was the primary reason that Jonny was uncomfortable with the upcoming job. Jonny liked to take his time in a neighborhood. He liked to know all of the entrances, all of the exits, who the players were, and what kind of game was being played. Essentially, he wanted to feel the heartbeat of a place before he robbed it.


    Soon enough, Jonny made it to the docks and the sound of the Thames lapping against the wooden planks mixed with the sounds of costermongers and merchants plying their trades. As Jonny entered the market he was careful to not allow anyone to touch him within the crowd. For the uninitiated, a single bump or trip could be accompanied by a dipper slipping his hands through your pockets and taking everything that you were worth.


    Jonny made his way to a part of the market where he could sit and be observed by those who were paying attention and yet unobtrusive to those who weren¡¯t. He figured the kid would be a professional much like Jonny was himself in those days. The kid likely knew who he was looking for since Jonny himself didn¡¯t know anything about who was supposed to be watching his back during the heist.


    Normally, Jonny would pick someone older to provide over watch on ajob like this. They tended to be better with weapons and blend in easier with their surroundings. Kids were usually in on jobs where they could use their pitiful expressions and demeanor to scam the wealthy out of their belingings. The positive thing about it being a kid is the fact that kids were fast and could get into places that adults could not. All things considered, the kid wouldn¡¯t be a bad choice for a crow.


    Jonny settled himself in to wait.

 Ch. 8 Tools of the Trade

    Jonny was getting sick of the cold and the annoying overtures from street vendors and prostitutes. As if summoned by thought, a small form detached itself from the crowded marketplace. The kid had brown hair and steely gray eyes that reminded Jonny of his own. Jonny had to admit to himself that he was impressed with the way the child moved. Usually, at his age, they were all knees and elbows. It was hard to look lithe and impressive when your body hadn''t caught up to the size of your feet.


    The boy confidently strode up to Jonny and stuck out his hand. "It''s nice to meet you Mr. Ghost."


    Jonny scowled and rose from the wall that he had been leaning on to wait. He uncrossed his arms and grabbed the boy by one of his ears. Twisting it, he manipulated the boy until he was on the tips of his toes and staring into Jonny''s suddenly critical gaze. A couple of people looked over at the scene, but one look at Jonny''s face convinced them that they had more important things to do elsewhere.


    Jonny hissed. "Smiley tell you that you could use that name in public, lad?"


    Fear turned the boy''s face white, and he stuttered a response while simultaneously trying to relieve the pressure on his ear with his hands.


    "No, sir. I''m sorry, sir."


    Satisfied, Jonny let the boy go and studied him more carefully. The boy rubbed his ear with a grubby hand but didn''t conceal the anger at being reprimanded in public from his gaze. That was good, Jonny thought. Meekness didn''t keep you alive.


    "So what''s your name lad?"


    The boy''s face reddened for reasons unknown to Jonny and with false bravado, replied.


    "Mouse. They call me Mouse."


    Jonny involuntarily chuckled and the gravity of the moment disappeared. The boy immediately got defensive.


    "They call me Mouse because I can break into anywhere and steal anything. I''m the best thief on these streets and one day I''ll be even better than the Ghost."


    Despite his defensiveness, Mouse lowered his voice to barely a whisper at the very end. Jonny nodded. So the lad could learn a lesson. Also good. Jonny resisted the urge to ruffle the boy''s hair. Mouse could''ve been the spitting image of himself when he was that age.


    He smiled. "Alright then Mouse, let''s head to the Queen''s Noose and talk about our plan."


    Jonny made his way towards the Queen¡¯s Noose on the docks. The Queen¡¯s Noose doubled as the neighborhoods only shankhouse and relatively decent pub. Shankhouses were much like the thieves guilds of antiquity. Criminals would go there to share expertise and methods without fear of intervention by the Watch. Unfortunately, when one imagines a thieves¡¯ guild, they imagine opulent silks and exotic drugs at the behest of dangerous, hooded and cloaked men. Jonny chuckled at the incongruity between fiction and reality as they drew close to the Queen¡¯s Noose.


    Like most pubs, the Queen¡¯s noose was on the corner of a commercial block abutting the main road to the actual docks along the waterfront. It was the nicest pub around because it was where Smiley held court. Even though it was the nicest pub in the neighborhood it still wasn¡¯t luxurious by any means. Here, at least the buildings were made from red brick caked with grime rather than the wooden death traps further into Jacob¡¯s Island. There were large windows equidistant along the perimeter of the building. Jonny wasn¡¯t sure why they bothered. Smiley ensured the windows stayed so dirty that they were opaque. Smiley didn¡¯t believe in letting the opposition have a free look inside his operations. Smiley never specified who the opposition was. For Smiley, it was him against the world. In most respects, he wasn¡¯t wrong.


    As Jonny approached the door to the building, traces of lettering could be seen on its surface. Ignoring them, Jonny opened the door and gestured for Mouse to enter. The cold wind blew into the interior of the pub and a couple of the braver patrons were about to yell in protest until they saw who was opening the door. Jonny the Ghost was well known in this area and so the men quickly returned to their drinks with quiet mutters.


    Jonny surveyed the pub. Flickering candlelight and roaring fires gave off the impression of a home away from home. The bar was made of dark wood with brass accents. It was polished to such a shine that the candlelight reflected from its surface. The brass didn¡¯t have a touch of tarnish and this was especially impressive when considering the humidity caused by the proximity of the Thames. While the outside of the building was filthy, the inside was impeccable. A large mirrorshone from behind the bar and made the space feel much bigger than it actually was. Jonny was particularly proud of the mirror. The frame of the mirror was ornately carved with chasing dragons in real gold on the side. It had been among the possessions of a noble in Wales until Smiley had decided that he wanted it. Consequently, he ordered Jonny to retrieve the item for him. It had been a challenging and exciting burglary. Since then, the mirror had sat in the shankhouse as a reminder of the lengths Smiley would go to so that he could get what he wanted. Its second function was as a symbol of power. None of the Watch dared to come into the Queen''s Noose to retrieve it.


    Many would come to the Queen¡¯s Noose merely to escape the chill and talk about their most recent illegal pursuit. However, if they didn¡¯t have the coin to pay for a few drinks or a meal they were sent on their way by the two bruisers on staff. Smiley wouldn¡¯t allow squatters in his court and violators of his written rules never made the mistake twice.


    Mouse ran along the inside of the room and took a seat at one of the faded leather booths in the corner. Jonny followed dutifully and as he sat down, the owner and bartender Grimes had already appeared by his elbow. Grimes was a fat man. His bald head, red paunchy face, and soiled apron contributed to the deep trust that the criminal community placed in him. Everyone knew that you couldn¡¯t trust a skinny bartender. His good cheer and charming personality kept him in Smiley¡¯s good graces. In this neighborhood, Grimes was untouchable but he didn¡¯t use that fact to his advantage which made him popular even with the meanest criminals.


    ¡°Ghost! Gorblimy man, it¡¯s been a while since you¡¯ve graced my humble abode.¡±


    Jonny genuinely laughed, and his whole face lit up. Grimes had that kind of effect on his patrons.


    ¡°Grimes, I haven¡¯t gone by that moniker in a long time. You know that Smiley doesn¡¯t have me terrorizing the town anymore. Now, I just embarrass anyone daft enough to step into the ring.¡±


    Grimes rubbed his fat chin in thought. ¡°Aye, that you do, Jonny.¡± He gave Jonny a meaningful glance. ¡°I heard that youmight be doing a job soon despite your boxing career.¡±


    Jonny gave him a sly grin. ¡°You know I can¡¯t talk about that sort of thing with you Grimes. It would give you indigestion.¡± Jonny gave a pointed glance towards Grimes¡¯ protruding belly.


    Grimes chuckled good-naturedly. ¡°That it would, lad. That it would. What do you want to drink?¡±


    Jonny nodded towards Mouse. ¡°Beer for the boy and whiskey for myself.¡±


    Grimes nodded and left to grab the drinks. Jonny waited for Grimes to leave and then looked at the kid.


    ¡°Alright, lad. What are we doing?¡±


    Mouse shuffled in his seat as if he were sitting on something sharp. After a moment he seemed to settle and then lowered his voice.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to assassinate the Lord of Seven Dials.¡±


    Jonny choked, and before he could manage a reply, Grimes returned with their drinks. Jonny waved off his concerned look before looking back at Mouse in surprise. Seeing the seriousness of their conversation, Grimes took off without a word. Grimes was professional that way.


    ¡°You¡¯re selling me a dog, lad.¡± Jonny managed. ¡°Smiley doesn¡¯t use me for the bloody work.¡± Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Mouse took his time replying by sipping from his beer first.


    Wiping the foam from his mouth, he continued. ¡°Not usually Ghost, but this time it¡¯s different. The murder is secondary. It would be nice but what Smiley really wants is the glass pyramid hanging from the Lord¡¯s neck.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s so special about a glass pyramid that it¡¯s worth a killing? Killing a leader like the Lord will spin the underworld into chaos. That kind of bad blood will spill over into Jacob¡¯s Island and that the exact sort of thing that Smiley usually avoids like the plague.¡±


    Mouse shrugged. ¡°Who knows why Smiley does the things he does. Supposedly the pyramid glows with an inner light, and it¡¯s supposed to convey some arcane power to the one who wields it.¡± Mouse seemed to consider that for a second. ¡°I don¡¯t think that Smiley believes in all that, but it¡¯s a powerful symbol.¡± Mouse finished by shrugging. ¡°Who knows?¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Jonny pondered that for a moment. For some reason, he felt like he had seen a pyramid of that description before. For the life of him, he couldn¡¯t remember where. Every time he seemed to be close to remembering where the memory would slip away like fog in the breeze. After a few tries, Jonny abandoned the attempt.


    ¡°Alright Mouse, if that¡¯s all true then why did Smiley send you to me? He could¡¯ve told me all of this himself.¡±


    At this, Mouse gave a feral grin. ¡°Well Ghost, I¡¯m the only one that knows how to get you inside the building the Lord lives in without being detected.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you discovered what a door is, then? Mouse, I¡¯m proud of you. You truly are the next me!¡± Jonny chuckled at the range of emotion playing about Mouse¡¯s face.


    He sputtered. ¡°No, Ghost. That¡¯s not it. The Lord keeps a trapdoor hidden among the shingles of his roof. It leads into an attic that exits right outside the door to the Lord¡¯s bedroom.¡± Jonny studied the boy suspiciously.


    ¡°¡­and how do you know all that, lad?¡±


    At this, the boy¡¯s face began to redden. He started to mutter an answer. Sensing a perfect opportunity, Jonny pounced.


    ¡°What was that lad? Speak up. I can¡¯t hear you.¡±


    ¡°I said¡­the Lord¡¯s servant has a daughter named Elizabeth, and she may have snuck me into the place once or twice.¡±


    Jonny laughed uproariously. The irony was too much for Jonny to handle. One of the most bloodthirsty and ruthless crime lords in London was about to be undone by a couple of horny kids. Thinking that Jonny was laughing at him, Mouse got defensive.


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t know it was the Lord¡¯s house at the time, Jonny! As soon as she told me that, I went and let Smiley know. I¡¯m a loyal member of the Family!¡±


    Jonny wiped a tear from his eye. ¡°That you are, lad. I¡¯m not questioning your loyalty.¡±


    Jonny paused to take a sip of his whiskey. It was good. Smokey and delivered neat. Just the way he liked it.


    ¡°So Mouse, why do I need you to be the crow? Presumably, I could find the hatch myself,¡±


    Mouse shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. You don¡¯t need me exactly. I already convinced Elizabeth to unlock the hatch from the inside tomorrow night. I guess that Smiley wants to hold me accountable if this all turns out to be a dangle.¡±


    Jonny mused on Mouse¡¯s last statement. Dangles were a way of luring an adversary¡¯s best operatives into your clutches. It started by giving your opposition a target they can¡¯t resist and then at the last moment jerking the bait away as the target falls into the trap. Now that Mouse brought it up, it looked remarkably like a dangle. That begged the question. What the hell was Smiley playing at? He let those thoughts turn around in his mind.


    ¡°Ok Mouse. So why do we have to kill the Lord to steal the pyramid?¡±


    Mouse lowered his voice further. ¡°Well, Elizabeth told me that the Lord keeps the pyramid on a cord around his neck. The only way to get it is to get the Lord, and I guess Smiley isn¡¯t too concerned about that part of the plan.¡±


    ¡°Alright, Mouse. I¡¯m going to head back to Patsy¡¯s so that I can grab my tools. I¡¯ll meet you over in St. Giles this evening so that we can go over the plan.¡± Fishing out some cash, Jonny left the payment and a tip on the table. He downed the rest of his whiskey and then walked out of the Queen¡¯s Noose. For some reason, Jonny felt a discomfort at the thought of killing someone. He found the discomfort odd because while killing is something that no one but the truly mad enjoyed, it was still a necessary part of life in London. Jonny wasn¡¯t sure where these pangs of conscience were coming from. Maybe in a past life, Jonny had never killed before. Jonny internally chuckled. Yeah right, there would be blood in any life that Jonny would be a part of.


    Jonny made it back to Patsy¡¯s without incident and made his way inside. The warmth and comfort of the place had Jonny sighing in relief. The place was empty and Jonny assumed the men were out boozing and whoring as they were wont to do when boredom took them. He stomped up the crooked wooden stairs that took him to the second and then on to the third floor. The second floor was merely a place where more people could watch the regular boxing matches. The exhibition arena opened up to the second floor with theater style seating arrangements on the top. These seats were a bit more expensive as the benches on the ground floor were often put away to accommodate standing room only.


    On the third floor, Jonny had a small room that Patsy had given to him. It wasn¡¯t nice by any means but it was Jonny¡¯s place, and he felt safe there. Jonny fished a heavy key from his coat pocket, unlocked his door, and entered quietly. The inside had enough room for a small closet, a bed, and a large trunk. Jonny methodically went through the room and checked all of the traps he had left for anyone foolish enough to go through his things. They were easily disarmed and then Jonny undressed down to his skivvies and placed all of his things in the closet.


    He turned his attention to the trunk at the foot of his bed. It was a large wooden trunk that he had bought some time ago from Turkish merchants. It was a puzzle box made from a dense and heavy wood. Only by opening certain portions of the box in a particular order would the trunk open to reveal its contents. Jonny preferred this method of keeping his gear safe because anyone in this neighborhood knew how to pop open a traditional lock. With this chest, it was damn near impossible to open without knowing the trick.


    After unlocking the chest, he pulled out the tools of his trade. Jonny pulled out a series of wrapped bundles ensconced withinlists. The straps of cloth made it easier for the tools to be discarded in the event of a chase. Unrolling the bundles, he went through his tools and began to check the condition of all his tools.


    The first item Jonny looked at was his jemmy, a small crowbar he used to open windows or doors. It could also be wedged into doors to crack the cheap fitting that secured them to the frame. The condition was still good. No rust or other corrosions was found and Jonny had recently oiled it to protect it from the elements. The edge of the jemmy, was still sharp which made it easier to be wedged into tighter places. In a pinch, it could also be used as an impromptu weapon.


    Next, came the cutter. The tool was shaped like the letter ¡°D¡± and consisted of a revolving handle and pronged blade attached to a fixed handle at the top. It was used to cut holes into wood. It could be used to either weaken the attachment points of timbers, or drill a whole deep and large enough to disengage a locked door. To use it, one had to grasp the fixed handle at the top with one hand and use the other hand to spin handle attached to the pronged blade. The revolving blade would shred through the cheap and rotten timber that were common to the poorest areas.


    The final item in the first list was his jack. The jack used a crank and locking mechanism to increase the pressure between an iron bar and a surface to pry the bars away from their mounting points. It wasn¡¯t a very quiet tool, but it was immensely useful if the target had placed iron bars over something important.


    After verifying the condition of the items in the first list, he rolled them back up and placed them into a mottled green, brown, and gray rucksack. Next, he opened the second list.


    This list contained the items he would carry on his person. He had a series of knives. One was for glass cutting, it would go on his hip, and two more were meant for stabbing. Those would also go on his hip on the opposite side of the glass cutters. The last set of knives were weighted for throwing and went into a bandolier that he would put over one his right thigh. Jonny was right handed himself, and so it was an easy motion to draw a knife and throw it in one motion.


    Generally, people who wanted to stay alive didn¡¯t throw weapons at their opponents. The average thief wouldn¡¯t bother because they spent most of their time practicing how to get into places rather than how to defend themselves. There were bruisers for that sort of work. Jonny knew better. Ever since a young age, he had to learn how to defend himself. When your opponent is larger and faster than you, you have to know how to attack from a distance. Throwing knives was a valuable skill back then, and it was one that Jonny hadn¡¯t allowed to degrade over time.


    Besides the knives, there was rope for ladders and a myriad of other uses, his betties or set of lock picks, and the last two items of note: his life-preserver and dark-lantern.


    A life preservers is a small steel ball attached to a length of rope that was secured around Jonny¡¯s wrist. The weapon left his hands free until it was time to use it. Once he needed to defend himself, a quick twitching motion would unravel the ball and place it into his hand. Then, Jonny could either use the ball as a crude club to silently knock someone out, or it could be swung in a circle before launching it at someone¡¯s head, skull, or even limbs. The metal ball would crack even a thigh bone with the force behind the motion. Hitting a skull or face often led to immediate death.


    The dark-lantern was a standard tool for any thief. It was a mechanical wonder that allowed the user to slide a shutter over the light so that it could be concealed from passerby while keeping the flame from extinguishing.


    Satisfied, that all of his equipment was in order, it was time for Jonny to move on to his pride and joy: his clothing. His clothing was the primary reason that he was known as the Ghost. Unwrapping the last list uncovered a mottled grey-green cloak. Thieves traditionally liked to think that black was the best color for nighttime excursions. They¡¯re dead wrong. They fail to realize that black is generally not a natural color in nature. Black at night tends to look wrong and provide a visible silhouette to anyone watching. Gray on the other hand, was a perfect color for not wanting to be seen. Jonny had developed this principle of camouflage into his clothing.


    Camouflage itself had been used since the time of the Greeks, and for the life of him, Jonny could not understand why this basic principle was never adopted by the criminal underworld in London. Jonny supposed that everyone wanted to be well-known and blatant in their illegal activities to discourage reprisals from wronged parties. Jonny had no desire to be well-known.


    As such, his clothing was dark gray work shirt with the sleeves rolled down. Over this, Jonny wore dark leather gloves that laced up the forearm. The gloves were for protection for the inevitable climbing and rooftop gymnastics that would be required of him. He wore dark woolen breeches and knee-length leather boots for the same reasons as the gloves. The boots themselves did not have the high sole that was fashionable, instead they were soft soled to allow for quiet steps. Both the gloves and the boots were well-oiled in order to ensure maximum flexibility and range of movement. Jonny did not bother with a coat, despite the chill form outside. The stitching of the sleeves would merely get in his way. Instead he finished it with the deep hooded cloak that the rest of the clothing was bundled in.


    Once everything was on and settled the way Jonny was used to, Jonny decided to take a short nap and eat some provisions while he waited for the sun to go down.

 Ch. 9 The Best-Laid Plans

    Darkness settled quickly on Jacob¡¯s Island. The sun was chased away from the sky by the expectations of the denizens beneath. Despite the cold, nighttime was when the place came alive. All manner of activities that would not usually occur in the light of day were quite commonplace by night. Pimps peddled their whores. Thieves raided the manors and bastions of the wealthy and bruisers left bodies bloody and broken on the fouled ground. It was all part of the fabric that made up the Island.


    Jonny thought this and more, and he stepped from the doorstep of Patsy¡¯s place and into the familiar shadows of night. Jonny took a deep breath. The chill spread down Jonny¡¯s throat and into his lungs. The cold air invigorated him. Jonny always felt more alive at night than during the day. During the day, everyone moved about loudly and bumbled through their insignificant lives. Most stumbled through life without purpose. At night, though. The night was different. Everyone who traversed through the evening did so with quiet, lethal purpose. They were the scions of death, greed, and lust moving about their respective businesses.


    Jonny could respect purposes, and on this night, he had a purpose as well. Safely ensconced within the shadows and hidden by his unique, mottled cloak, Jonny surreptitiously made his way West towards the inner city. Jonny floated through the streets and the alleyways like the Ghost he was. His ears pricked for any sound out of the ordinary. His hands had a slight tremble. They were ready to equip his life-saver or a dagger as needed to neutralize the various threats of the night.


    Jonny was heading to rendezvous with Mouse at a house across the street from his target. They would scope the place out this evening and then steal the item the next. Jonny¡¯s very blood felt energized at the thought. It had been a long time since he had undergone a major heist. He forgot how much he missed this feeling. It was like plunging off the edge of a cliff and being unsure of how deep the water was at the bottom. It was dangerous, but it could also be highly rewarding so long as you didn¡¯t hit any rocks. That was life though. Many times, we don¡¯t get to pick the cliffs we jump off, and we never know just how deep the water is. Your character is decided by what you do when you get to the bottom and how you deal with the inevitable complications. Maybe you hit a rock, crack your skull, and drown in the surf. That¡¯s also life. We don¡¯t get to choose the time we go; we just try to live the best we can until that esoteric clock finally ticks down to nothing.


    Of course, some people were too afraid to take the leap in the first place. Jonny pitied those people. They would never be anything but observers. They could only silently watch as other people made the jump. They would then regretfully ask themselves why they never took the chance. They would die as all things die and their finals thought would be ¡°what if?¡±


    It was the mystery of the thing that attracted Jonny. He didn¡¯t consider himself as a thief, a killer, and a symbol of the darkest brutality that the Island had to offer. In truth, he was all of those things, but Jonny considered himself something of a pioneer. He was an explorer, willing and able to delve into the deepest places in the human psyche. Often, he did this alone and at great danger to himself. In the end, he only relied on himself.


    In the depths of his character, he was intensely curious about the world. He wanted to find and expose all the secrets that people kept hidden from the light of the day. He was uniquely suited to exposing them, and so he did. It just so happened that those secrets tended to be extremely profitable to someone, somewhere. He had no regrets in the life he had lived thus far. Regrets were for those without a purpose, and this was a night for purposes.


    Soon, Jonny had made it into the neighborhood of St. Giles. In composition, it wasn¡¯t much different than the Island. There were more people active around the area. Jonny assumed that was because of the centrality of the location. Jacob¡¯s Island was a bit out of the way, and most rational people avoided it like the plague. Other than that, the feel of the place felt remarkably similar to home. Jonny stamped on that thought quickly. He wasn¡¯t home. He was in enemy territory, and a casual slip could end with his death. Once he neared the block of his target, he faded into a darkened alleyway. He took out his lantern from his rucksack and lit it carefully. He used the lamp to identify a path on the building that would get him to the roof.


    Rookeries were warrens of twisting alleyways and streets. More often than not, they only had a single entrance and exit. Because of this, night time travelers had taken to using the rooftops as a second sort of road. It was a convenient mode of travel for thieves because it offered them a means of escape and few people looked above them for suspicious activities. In a place like this, Jonny had to be careful that the rotted wood didn¡¯t give way and send him crashing awkwardly into someone¡¯s domicile.


    Jonny quickly memorized the route he would take before extinguishing his lantern and then throwing it back into his rucksack. Jonny carefully ascended the side of the building. His boots made nary a whisper, and the soundproofing within his gear kept him safe and silent. A few moments later and he was crouching on top of the roof and looking over the expanse of roofs and walkways. The moon was bright enough that Jonny could see easily the path he would need to take to get closer to his target.


    Creeping along, Jonny made sure to test the roof before placing his full weight on any single location. The going was slow, and he stayed flat on the roof in order not to silhouette himself against the light of the moon. As he neared the location from where they would be staking out the Lord¡¯s manse, Jonny started to look for where Mouse could be holed up. Jonny began to coo. The coo sounded remarkably like the sound a common tawny owl makes. Jonny made the sound twice and then waited for an answering call. A short while later an answering coo could be heard originating from near a large chimney. Jonny ghosted to the chimney without even a creak of wood to mark his passing.


    Jonny noticed a shadow that seemed to be larger that Mouse¡¯s form. Alarmed, Jonny began to think that this could be a dangle. A dagger quickly found its way into Jonny¡¯s grasp. This dagger had previously been blackened like all of his blades to avoid the tell-tale sheen of moonlight on metal. Jonny took a circuitous route around the chimney to surprise whoever was waiting for him. As Jonny was a few paces away, the shadow split into two forms, and Jonny became more curious than alarmed. It looked as if there were two small children rather than a full-sized adult waiting for him.


    Jonny growled, ¡°What the bloody hell are you doing, Mouse?¡±


    Both of the shadows visibly started and turned to face him. They stepped out of the shadow of the chimney and into the moonlight. Mouse could see the silhouette of Jonny and was still surprised at his appearance. Mouse was looking right at him but the way that the light fell upon his frame, the edges of his body looked indistinct and fuzzy. Looking at him dead on it was still difficult to tell where Jonny was facing with the cowl of his cloak pulled down low. The surprise of his appearance only added to the hysteria that Mouse was feeling. Mouse came closer and pulled Elizabeth with him. Elizabeth was a pretty girl. She had blonde hair that shone in the moonlight. Mouse had apparently taken some pains to hide its distinctive shimmer with a dark colored shawl, but Jonny could still see the curls peek out and reflect the silver light.


    ¡°What is this, Mouse?¡±


    Mouse quietly but quickly tried to explain. ¡°Jonny, I came to the point as you and I agreed, and I found Liz waiting for me. This is usually the place that we meet, and I was surprised to see her. I¡¯ll let her tell you what she said to me.¡±


    Elizabeth found it difficult to communicate with the Ghost. Even here in St. Giles, he was a legend among men. The Ghost had built his infamy with the most challenging and trickiest jobs. Elizabeth found him intimidating on a primal level. Nevertheless, the gave a shy smile and explained the situation at Mouse¡¯s urging.


    ¡°The Lord is only going to be in the manor tonight. I overheard the Lord talking to my mother. Apparently, urgent business came up, and the Lord needs to go to Wales in the morning. There won¡¯t be any opportunity to steal anything after tonight.¡±


    Jonny cursed out loud in a hiss. ¡°Bloody fucking hell! It¡¯s like the entire universe is conspiring against me on this job.¡± After a few seconds to ponder his dilemma, Jonny decided on an avenue of approach.


    ¡°Alright, Elizabeth, did you already unlock the hatch?¡±


    She timidly replied. ¡°Yes, Ghost.¡±


    Jonny nodded, satisfied. ¡°Ok, explain the layout to me. Where are the guards and where does the Lord sleep?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a two story house. The first floor has a reception area, kitchen, storage room and dining room. There is a washroom and small room where six guards take shifts sleeping in. The Lord is pretty paranoid and makes sure the house stays full with guards and staff to make it more difficult for an assassination. Two guards are on the first floor, and two are on the second while the other two should be sleeping. The second floor consisted of the master bedroom where the Lord sleeps, two washrooms, and four bedrooms for guests. The Lord doesn¡¯t have a family; she¡¯ll be in there.¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    Jonny¡¯s mind tripped over itself at the child¡¯s last sentence. ¡°What do you mean, she¡¯ll be in there?¡± Jonny placed emphasis on the ¡°she¡¯ll.¡±


    Elizabeth shrugged. ¡°The Lord of Seven Dials is a woman. That¡¯s her biggest secret.¡± She delivered the earth-shaking revelation as if it was of no consequence. Something strange occurred in Jonny¡¯s mind. He had killed women before. Bodies all bled and died the same. He shouldn¡¯t feel as upset as he was about the fact that the Lord was a woman.


    Jonny¡¯s head started to ache. It felt like part of him was rebelling at the idea while another part of him was comfortable with the notion. The cognitive dissonance between two opposing yet equal ideas threatened to tear his mind apart. Taking deep breaths, Jonny tried to suppress the fit that had overtaken him. The silence wore on, and Mouse commented on it.


    ¡°Are you alright, Jonny? I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t know. This is the first time that I heard the Lord was a woman. Does it matter overmuch?¡±


    Jonny shook his head to dismiss the phantasms crowding his brain. Equilibrium slowly crept back. His gruff voice sounded hoarse with suppressed pain. ¡°No. No, it doesn¡¯t. Get lost kids. I¡¯ll take care of this.¡± Jonny tried to inject some confidence into his voice but could tell that Mouse didn¡¯t quite believe him. The lad had spent too much time on the streets to be fooled by such a weak performance. At that moment, Mouse decided to get Elizabeth to safety and then circle back so that he could help Jonny. Mouse grabbed Elizabeth¡¯s hand and escorted her out of harm¡¯s way.


    Jonny surveyed the target. He was trying to get some last minute impressions before he charged into danger in a way that he had never done before. This was not how Jonny liked to do business. He was a meticulous planner. The house itself was in remarkable condition when compared to the rest of St. Giles. Jonny was surprised the Lord kept her dwelling in such comfort. It was light a flashing sign asking for people to attempt to rob her. Maybe that was why she kept such a heavy guard presence.


    Jonny wasn¡¯t sure how he was going to neutralize the guards. He had all the tools to ensure it was silent but Jonny didn¡¯t typically mix thievery and murder. Corpses complicated things and routine robberies were tricky enough. Jonny couldn¡¯t see any sign of the guards patrolling the outside, but if he were the Lord, then he would have some means of getting more bruisers to the property as quickly as possible. Jonny would have to be on guard for such measures.


    Deciding that he couldn¡¯t sit there all night, Jonny detached himself from the shadows on the roof. Making his way to the edge of the roof, he dropped down to the ground without a sound. The Lord¡¯s house was across a narrow street from the shelter he occupied, and it would be safer to cross it on the ground rather than trying to leap across. Jonny wasn¡¯t sure he could make the jump in the first place, and any misstep could send him crashing through the roof or alerting someone to his presence.


    Jonny crossed the street without incident. He didn¡¯t notice anyone watching him, and so he confidently made his way into the alleyway next to the Lord¡¯s house. There was enough moonlight for Jonny to navigate his way on to the top of the roof. His vision had long since acclimated to the darkness. He quietly pulled himself over the edge of the roof and lay flat along the top. He waited for a few breaths. He strained his ears to detect any unusual the sounds. A scrape of leather or whisper of cloth would be all Jonny needed to know that he had been detected.


    Thankfully, Jonny heard nothing that would indicate that his presence had been discovered. Jonny slithered across the roof on his belly. There was no need to go quickly. In this case, moving quickly would only be asking for detection and a slow death. He kept his eyes peeled for any raised surface that would reveal the escape hatch that the Lord had built into her house. After a few minutes of quietly searching, he found a series of shingles that were raised higher than the rest. Jonny neared it and took off his gloves. He tucked the gloves into his belt as he used his sensitive fingers to feel the edges of the trap door.


    Confident that he had found it, Jonny replaced his gloves and lifted the hatch only far enough to get a look in. Moonlight streamed into the crack into an empty room. It looked to be another storage room. Barrels were stacked intentionally to create a path to the hatch. Jonny was gratified to find nothing in the room other than the barrels. Slowly and carefully, Jonny lifted the hatch only far enough to fit his frame. He turned his body and slipped quietly into the hatch. The only sound that came from his movement was the whisper of his cloak on the ground.


    Jonny perched on the top of a barrel and slowly closed the hatch. The interior of the room was dark. Now that the hatch had been closed. Jonny felt his way in the darkness until he was on the ground. At this point, he carefully pulled the lantern out of his rucksack and lit it. He closed the shutter until only a sliver of light could be seen from the lantern. Jonny made sure to position the lantern in such a way that the light wouldn¡¯t fall towards the only door into the room. It would be extremely unfortunate if the light from his lantern gave him away at such a pivotal moment.


    Now that Jonny could see, he took off his rucksack and lay it on the ground. Next, he took off his cloak. The cloak was great for deception but it wouldn¡¯t do anything but restrict his movement during close combat. This was the time for solid knife work and not trying to blend in.


    While Jonny was in the Lord¡¯s house, Mouse had returned to his previous perch in the shadows of the chimney. Since he could not see Jonny, Mouse assumed that he had entered the building. Secretly, Mouse was impressed with everything about Jonny. He was the Ghost. Mouse had no doubts to his success tonight. Mouse took his duties as a crow seriously and he wanted to impress Jonny with his clever thinking and quick wit.


    With this in mind, Mouse started to think about how he could help Jonny succeed. Mouse didn¡¯t know much of the layout of the building. The furthest he had been inside had been the storage room that the hatch opened into. Elizabeth said it was too dangerous for anything else. Additionally, the positioning of the guards was unknown as well. With a flash of inspiration, Mouse knew what he could do to help out Jonny. Jonny was basically going in blind and once he was inside he wouldn¡¯t be able to figure out the positioning of the guards without putting himself in danger. If Mouse could set up some kind of distraction, then he could reveal their positions to Jonny.


    Smiling, Mouse made his way to the street level. He observed the front of the building to look for ways he could cause a distraction. There wasn¡¯t anything that stood out to Mouse about the building. Sure, it was nicer. It was painted, didn¡¯t look like it was rotted to the foundations like most of the buildings around. Even the windows were clean and well-maintained. That wasn¡¯t usual. Wait. The windows. Mouse became ecstatic. He began looking around in the garbage and filth in order to find what he was looking for. After a few minutes of rooting in the trash, he found what he was looking for. Pulling his hand from the gross combination of trash and excrement, he had a loose cobblestone clutched in his hand.


    Mouse¡¯s idea was simple. If he can throw a cobblestone through the shutters and crack or break a window on the first floor, the first floor guards would naturally come to investigate. The sound would cause the second-floor guards to move to whatever pre assigned position they were trained to take and then Jonny would have an idea of where he needed to strike. Mouse excitedly got into position on the other side of the street from the house. He needed the distance in order to have enough time to make his escape from the Lord¡¯s guards.


    Checking his aim, Mouse launched the cobblestone with as much force as his frame could muster. Mouse¡¯s aim was true and the cobblestone crashed into the shutters covering the window. The flimsy screens were there for mere decoration and did not stop the force behind the thrown cobblestone. A great crashing sound was heard as the rock sailed straight through the window and left the shutters hanging loosely like cut marionette handles. The sound immediately brought a bellow from the guards on the first floor. Mouse stayed where he was so that he could barely be spotted in the shadow of the street. Seconds later, two guards come pounding out the front door and began looking for whoever attacked the house.


    Seeing their angry faces with large clubs clasped in their meaty paws, Mouse immediately turned and run. One man shouted at the other and pointed to Mouse¡¯s quickly departing form and the two men launched themselves in his direction. Mouse didn¡¯t look back at the men chasing him. Any distraction from the chase could end in his capture and death. Mouse pelted through streets and alleyways that seemed mostly the same. He had been coming to this rookery for some weeks and so he knew exactly where he needed to go in order to escape.


    St. Giles only had one entrance and exit and it was towards this exit that Mouse was now sprinting with all of his might. His feet made heavy footfalls in the filth and muck. Between his footfalls and his heavy breathing, it would be simple for his pursuers to know which direction he was going. Mouse didn¡¯t hear anyone chasing him and so he looked back to see if he had gotten away. His goal hadn¡¯t been to tie up the guards in a chase, that would merely be an added benefit. The whole purpose of the distraction was to reveal the guard positions to Jonny. Satisfied that he wasn¡¯t being actively pursued, Mouse slowed down and adjusted his step to appear more casual. He began taking deep and slow breathes in order to calm the fire raging in his lungs and the frenetic beating of his heart. He had successfully lowered his pulse as he caught sight of the exit.


    Mouse approached the exit nonchalantly. It was fashioned as a wooden tunnel in between two rickety buildings. The overhangs from the buildings created a deep shadow that plunged the exit in darkness. Mouse knew in the dark lie his safety. He would get back to Smiley and report on his progress and the unforeseen complications of the evening. As Mouse reached the shadows he sighed in relief. He dropped his guard reflexively. It was the wrong thing to do. Mouse heard a man growl ¡°Got you!¡± and then the last thing he heard was the whistling of a club swinging at his head. As he lost consciousness, two more shadows detached themselves from the greater darkness and grabbed his prone form.

 Ch. 10 Of Two Minds

    Jonny crouched in the small storage area, immersed in thought. He surmised that he was in the back corner of the house due to the position of the trap door in the roof. Supposedly, the Lord¡¯s bedroom was right next to the room he was currently occupying. If he were the owner of this house, he would place one guard at each end of the hallway. If that were the case, then one guard would be to Jonny¡¯s left as he exited the room and one would be to his right. The door opened into the cramped room so there would be no way to open the door and slam it into the guard on the left. This put Jonny in the unenvious position of being between two alert mercenaries. They were sure to belarge and heavily muscled aspersonal guards tend to be.Jonny was confident that he could take the two in an even fight, but he was not confident that he could incapacitate the guards without raising an alarm and letting his mark potentially escape.


    As Jonny was trying to figure out how he was going to proceed, a large crashing sound could be heard from the first floor. A spike of adrenaline shotthrough Jonny¡¯s core. Jonny¡¯s mind began to work in overdrive. The crash downstairs sounded like a broken window and either fate was interceding on his behalf, a fact that he very much doubted, or Mouse had decided to provide a distraction. Jonny silently cheered the new development. He heard shouts of alarm from his left and his right and Jonny grinned because his educated guess had been correct. Loud footprints passed his door travelling from left to right and at their passing, Jonny silently opened the door to the storage room. He guessed correctly that the drama from downstairs easily masked the opening of the door. Jonny stayed crouched with his back to the wall next to the door. A long knife was clasped lightly in one of his hands.


    As he waited, he heard a woman¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Oliver! Horace! What the bloody hell is going on?¡±


    A sheepish voice replied. ¡°Sorry Madame, Al said a brick crashed through one of the windows downstairs. They saw a kid and they took off to catch to catch ¡®im.¡±


    A couple of seconds of silence passed and Jonny could feel the venom in the air as the woman replied.


    ¡°Well Horace, why don¡¯t you go wake up the relief if they¡¯re not awake already and. GO. HELP. THEM!¡±


    The last were delivered in a shrill tone that sent Horace sprinting down the stairs in pursuit. Jonny heard the second pair of footsteps, presumably Oliver¡¯s begin to follow Horace downstairs. Jonny was about to celebrate his good fortune when the Lord¡¯s voice rang out again.


    ¡°and where the bloody hell are you going!?¡±


    Oliver, obviously not much more intelligent than his fellow guard spoke hesitantly.


    ¡°Well¡­uh¡­madame¡­ I was going to go ¡®elp ¡®orace.¡±


    The Lord practically hissed her response.


    ¡°Get back to guarding the floor you mindless cretin. Does it really make sense to leave the manor entirely unguarded because of a single child asking for a slow and tortuous death?¡±


    By the end of the question she was screaming again. Obviously, not waiting for a response, the Lord turned back into her bedroom and slammed the door.


    Oliver stood there for a moment as if unsure where to go and then he ponderously walked back in the direction he came. Jonny carefully prepared himself forthe hulk''sarrival. Based upon the man¡¯s voice, Jonny had a solid idea of how tall the man was and the approximate location of his target. As the man came within a paces distance from the open door, Jonny rose from his crouch and in one movement sent an arm swinging with the point of the dagger leading. The man had time to open his eyes with surprise before the blade sank all the way to the hilt in his throat. The blade was propelled with such force that that it nicked the vertebrae and sent a vibration through Jonny¡¯s arm. Brightvenous blood began welling around the wound.


    Jonny retracted thekinfe so that the blood would begin to rush from the wound and down into the throat. The man¡¯s own blood would keep his death relatively quiet. Jonny noticed that he had not nicked any of the large arteries in the side of the neck so Jonny assumed the man would die from drowning before he died from blood loss. The startled man met Jonny¡¯s eyes in panic as he reached for his throat. The shock was too much for the man and he fainted. Jonny awkwardly caught the body on the way down and began dragging it towards the storage room. A trail of blood snaked on the ground as Jonny stowed the body.


    Jonny placed the body propped against a barrel and let gravity finish the job. As Jonny watched the man¡¯s life bleed away, he began to feel sick. Jonny abruptly threw up the food he had eaten earlier. He tried covering his mouth to dampen the sound of the vomit and fell to his knees from vertigo. A pounding began in his head. The pain kept ramping up and felt like crashing waves of agony on the inside of his skull. Jonny couldn¡¯t understand what was happening to him. He kept thinking about the blood. The blood that was now pooling around him took on an insidious brightness as it spread into the influence of the lantern. Jonny couldn¡¯t look away from the blood. The pain in his gut and in his head kept increasing. Forcing Jonny to elicit a low groan. Suddenly, it stopped.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Immersion has been broken. Avatar is experiencing extreme discomfort and stress. Removing subject from simulation¡­</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Removal has failed. [???] has intercepted the removal process. Avatar must continue simulation.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    John opened his eyes. His face was wet and sticky for some reason and his surroundings were dim with only the light of a small lantern illuminating the space. As John sat up, it all came back to him. Patsy. The boxing ring. Mouse. Elizabeth. Smiley. The Heist. The Queen¡¯s Noose. Grimes. The Lord of Seven Dials. It all came rushing back in episodic fashion. He had been there. He had done those things. John had a difficult time reconciling who he was with what he had done. Looking around, all he could see was the blood. It was everywhere. It coated the floor. It coated his hands. John belatedly realized that the stickiness on his face must be blood as well. When a muted cry he began to scrub the blood off of his face. His attempts were unsuccessful and he just smeared the blood further. John was revolted. All he could think about was the moment the knife plunged into the man¡¯s throat and his subsequent look of surprise. That man had a name. He was Oliver and now he was no more.


    Something deep within him snickered in derision. His head began to pound violently. Part of him wanted to say ¡°fuck it¡± and then finish the job. The other part of him was deeply disturbed by the life he had just taken. Collective took this moment to intrude upon his thoughts.


    John. It has come to my attention that you are experiencing elevated levels of stress and emotional trauma. As a safety precaution I have tried to forcibly remove you from the simulation but something is blocking my attempts. I cannot eject you safely but I can help you to succeed within this simulation and manually escape. Would you like me to do that? Due to your current position, I have turned on your Neural Communication Network. You may now speak to me mind-to-mind so that you do not reveal your position. Additionally, as recompense for allowing you to be in danger during a protected zone, I have awarded this ability to you freely.


    John was stunned from his spiral of grief and self-loathing. He had never heard of Collective giving away anything freely, much less such a valuable ability. He was constantly amazed at Collective¡¯s cognitive abilities. Everyone knew that Collective was merely a highly advanced computer but this sort of language seemed almost¡­empathetic.


    Collective, what kind of help are you talking about?


    Well John, you have earned a plethora of ability, skill, and level updates. Levelling up has been known to have a soothing effect on the human psyche. I can allow these updates to happen and it is likely that you will feel whole enough to complete the mission. If you refuse, it is likely that you will die within this simulation and it will continue until you go insane.


    Collective paused and John sensed that it seemed troubled.


    This is not how this simulation usually goes. I will have to analyze what went wrong. It isn¡¯t usually this immersive.


    John doubted that Collective had found very much in its long life that it could not quantify and explain down to the smallest cell. If Collective, a being of almost omnipotent and omnipresent capabilities was troubled, then John should be downright terrified.


    I¡¯ll take the updates, Collective.


    Very well, John. Good luck.


    Blue glowing prompts quickly appeared in his vision and John quickly viewed them. Something inside of him was rushing him to hurry. He felt like he didn¡¯t have much time left.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Ability Acquired! Stealth: The basic principles of absolute stealth have been available to you. Stealth consists of the ability to sense the baseline of your environments, blend into your surroundings, move silently, and understanding the principles of detection. Continue leveling to decrease detection radius and increase small bonuses to Endurance, Agility, Intelligence, and Dexterity. Current Detection Radius: -5%. Current Stat Bonus: 0.25.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Skill Acquired! Sneak Lvl 1: Sneak can be used to evade all forms of detection. However, success depends upon the level of Sneak in combination with Endurance, Agility, Dexterity, and Intelligence against your opponent¡¯s detection radius as determined by their Intelligence, Wisdom, Willpower, and Focus. Additionally, any advanced attributes such as Perceptive or any skills in relation to sight will affect these modifiers.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Skill Acquired! Throw Lvl 1: Is a skill used to propel weapons toward an opponent. This can be done with large weapons like shields and spears or small projectiles like knives and darts. Success and accuracy depends upon the level of this skill and the Mastery of the weapon attempting to be thrown in addition to stat modifiers.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Skill Acquired! Ambush Lvl 1: Ambush is a skill used to surprise an enemy with an attack. Success depends upon the level of this skill, Stealth, Sneak, and stat modifiers. Ambush ensures a guaranteed critical hit.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Ability Leveled Up! Adaptability is now Lvl 2! Ability Leveled Up! Knife Mastery is now Lvl 4! Ability Leveled Up! Unarmed Combat is now Lvl 3! Ability Leveled Up! Inner Focus is now Lvl 3!</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>Due to your Adabtability, Strength has increased by 1, Focus has increased by 1, Vigor has increased by 1, Endurance has increased by 2, Dexterity has increased by 2, Agility has increased by 2, Willpower has increased by 1, Intelligence has increased by 2, Wisdom has increased by 1, and Charisma has increased by 1.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>You have levelled up! You are now Lvl 4! You have (9) stat points to distribute. You have levelled up! You are now Lvl 5! You have (12) stat points to distribute.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    After dismissing the prompts, John felt superhuman. Not only did the rush from the levels hit him at once, but he had never felt this powerful in his life. His limbs were more fluid and his mind seemed to be functioning at a higher level. He felt an intense energy pervade every cell of his body. With the rush of stat and level gains, his fear of his current situation faded away. Surprisingly, he felt whole. His higher intelligence was helping him to reconcile the two identities within him. He felt the lessons from Jonny settling into his character like an old friend. Thus, to an outside observer, John¡¯s previously awkward and stilted movement became more like those of the Ghost. He didn¡¯t have the same lethal fluidity, but he wouldn¡¯t be mistaken for an easy target either. John figured that his adaptability would assist in the integration of the Ghost¡¯s skills into his own avatar.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    He pulled up his character sheet with a thought.


    Satisfied, John dismissed the sheet and rose silently to his feet. Even Jonny was not as quick and as powerful as John was now. After all, Jonny was only human and John¡­John was something more than human. John found himself no longer revolted by the sight of the blood. If anything, it felt right in some way. The person, Oliver, was in his way. He was merely a means to the end. Sometimes you hit the bottom of the cliff and bounced off of the rocks. That was life. Or rather, the end of a life.


    Satisfied that his earlier weakness hadn¡¯t been discovered, John stealthily entered the hallway. Reaching the door to his target, he surreptitiously opened the door and entered the bedroom. The door hadn¡¯t made even a creak to betray his presence and John closed the door behind him. He didn¡¯t want a guard to casually come back from chasing Mouse and discover him. The room itself was richly appointed. A large four poster bed dominated the room. It was plushy decorated with hanging silks and expansive blankets. In the corner of the room was a vanity desk that included an ornate mirror and all of the accoutrements of a well-to-do woman. The amount of wealth in that desk was mind-boggling to John. Most people in this time and place could not afford a fraction of the gilt on the mirror. The rest of the room, while well-endowed with expensive and tasteful furniture of the time, did not attract John¡¯s notice. He was here for one reason.


    As John drew closer to the bed, he drew his second knife. The swish of the blade being drawn could barely be heard but John winced at the sound. The first had been left in the pool of Oliver¡¯s blood. John could retrieve it later and it was more important that John had a fresh blade to avoid the inevitable slippage caused by the slickness of the blood than it was to maintain weapon discipline. He waited to see if the weapon¡¯s noise had alerted his target. She was facing away from him and all John could see was the black shadow of her hair. Noticing no movement and hearing only the heavy, regular breathing that denoted deep sleep, Jonny drew within striking range.


    Just as Jonny drew close, a loud shrieking startled him. John was not experienced enough to avoid the back step that had his hurried swing, miss and slice through the empty air. The place the woman had once occupied was no longer the same. Instead, a kick shot out from the confused mess and landed in John¡¯s gut. The air rushed from his lungs as he back peddled in order to catch his balance. The Lord of St. Giles, removed herself from the bed and stood proudly. In one hand she clutched a wickedly curved knife. It was made for slicing more than stabbing. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship but that was not what held John¡¯s attention. In the other hand she held a small pistol.


    John raised his knife in a defensive positon but he knew he was severely outmatched. Criminals during this period didn¡¯t usually use firearms. The penalty for having them was too severe for most criminals to bother. John had wildly underestimated his opponent and he felt like he was about to pay the price. The woman¡¯s ice cold voice penetrated the darkness.


    ¡°Drop your knife.¡±


    John complied quickly. He still had a host of knives secreted on his person. All he needed was a moment¡¯s distraction and he could draw and throw one of the knives on his thigh into the Lord¡¯s throat. He must have betrayed his killing intent as the Lord took no chances.


    ¡°Turn around and face the wall away from me. You will walk outside the door being careful not to appear to leave my sight for a moment. If you hesitate to comply with my orders I will fucking shoot your bloody brains out.¡±


    John sensed the seriousness of the situation and complied with the woman¡¯s demands. She led him to the first floor and then further down a flight of stairs into a reinforced basement. The room was pitch dark but the Lord navigated the way with ease. While John was at the bottom of the stairs, she remained at the top and turned to call loudly.


    ¡°Guards! We have an intruder!¡±


    Heavy stomping could be heard in a corner of the house above John and two thugs joined the Lord at the top of the landing. She quickly disseminated orders.


    ¡°You two secure that man and ensure he doesn¡¯t go anywhere.¡±


    John¡¯s back was still turned and so all he heard was the stamping of feet down the stairs before the whistling of a club struck him in the back of the head. His vision faded to black.


    An indeterminable time later, John groggily regained consciousness. His first observation was that he was in the basement of the Lord¡¯s house. It was now brightly lit with candles on sconces along the walls. He was in the center of the room and tied to a chair. Directly in front of him was the staircase leading up to the first floor and on the left a long wooden table adorned with various implements for torture could be seen. John had not noticed the table in the darkness and the sight of sickeningly curved or pointed instruments had all manner of thoughts running through his brain. John was surprised to note that he felt a vague unease about the whole situation. It had not been the first time he had been tortured. That thought scrambled his preceding thoughts as he realized that in fact he had not been tortured before. That had been Jonny. This realization frightened him more than his current situation.


    Panning his gaze from left to right he found the Lord, by herself, smirking in the corner and the reason for the smirk was on John¡¯s right. She had caught Mouse. He was bound and gagged in a chair next to him. His head drooped against the bonds and his hair was plastered to his skull with trickling blood. He looked small and vulnerable. The usually hard lines in the kid¡¯s face had been softened by unconsciousness. If one were to ignore the blood, the boy looked as if he were peacefully sleeping. The incongruence these observations incensed him. John presumed that Mouse had received much of the same treatment that John himself did. Thus, John felt himself become irrationally angry. How dare this woman attack an innocent in such a way. Mouse was just a boy caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He still had a whole life to lead. John was about to verbalize his righteous indignation when the Lord began to speak.


    ¡°Who sent you? What were you trying to accomplish?¡±


    John realized that he did not want to provide any information to the witch. She would have to kill him first. He said as much with his eyes. His anger didn¡¯t keep him from noticing the pyramid tied on a leather thong around her neck. It was the training sim! It looked odd now. In real life, the sim had glowed with an inner purple hue. Now,


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be that way is it? Alright then.¡±


    The Lord briskly walked over to the table and selected a small curved knife. After inspecting it she walked slowly towards the unconscious boy. She turned and held my gaze.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this.¡± John couldn¡¯t summon the anger he previously felt. Instead he just felt sad. There was no universe in which this scenario ended itself peacefully.


    Grinning, the Lord gripped the hair of the boy and jerked his face upward with one hand. The other took the curved knife and sliced it across the cheek of the boy. It was not even a life-threatening threatening wounds but the pain brought Mouse gasping awake. He looked around in wild panic. He was obviously discombobulated. As if by reflex, tears started flowing from Mouse¡¯s eyes and the mixed with the blood seeping from his cheek and into the gag covering his mouth. Mouse¡¯s muffled protests made John¡¯s heart ache. John flexed and unflexed his muscles, trying to loosen his bonds in some way. The movement proved futile and he grit his teeth and he tried to free himself from the ropes surrounding him. Even his feet were bound to the heavy wooden chair he found himself on.


    Tears of frustration appeared in John¡¯s own eyes as Mouse met his gaze fearfully. Seeing that she had elicited exactly what she needed, the Lord repeated herself while still gripping Mouse¡¯s hair. Her knife hung dangerously close to Mouse¡¯s exposed throat.


    ¡°Who sent you? What were you trying to accomplish?¡±


    John didn¡¯t see any point in trying to lie but he felt an intense attachment to Mouse. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything once you set him free.¡± John¡¯s voice didn¡¯t sound confident even in his own ears.


    The Lord seemed to consider John¡¯s request. Even going to far as to tap the tip of her knife against her chin playfully. It left a small drop of blood and John found his attention draw to the small drop of Mouse¡¯s blood on her face. Seeing his devoted attention, the Lord grinned cruelly. With a smooth motion the blade fell towards Mouse¡¯s neck. John screamed ¡°No!¡± as the knife moved in slow motion. Mouse¡¯s eyes widened as the knife started on one side of his neck and raggedly tore into his flesh from one artery to the other. John clinically noted that the cut itself was professional. It was difficult to slice both carotid arteries in one go. John watched the ight fade out of Mouse¡¯s eyes as the blood quickly fountained from his severed arteries. It was over in only a couple minutes but those minutes felt like a lifetime for John.


    The Lord merely watched the emotions play about John¡¯s face. She smiled again. ¡°You know he had to die. He broke one of my windows! One of those windows was worth ten street rats just like him.¡±


    John didn¡¯t respond to her words. She continued. ¡°Now. Who sent you and what were you trying to accomplish?¡±


    She got closer and peered into John¡¯s face. She was only a few inches away from John¡¯s seemingly defeated face. John summoned his last bit of anger and tossed his head back and then smashed it into the Lord¡¯s face. He felt the cartilage in her nose break and she staggered back clutching her face. She screamed in rage and John felt a supreme peace as he looked her dead in her wild eyes and said, ¡°Fuck. You.¡±


    Her eyes were crazed as she stalked over to the wooden table and picked up the pistol she had left there. Marching back in front of him she drew the pistol smoothly to chest height and fired a round straight into the front of John¡¯s skull.


    <table>


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>You have died! You are being sent for respawn.</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Ch. 11 Dream Within A Dream

    John slowly became conscious, and the scene was eerily familiar. He was back in Patsy¡¯s boxing ring in the same exact position as he was when he arrived at the scenario. Thankfully, none of the confusion or symptoms of mistaken identity made themselves known. Patsy¡¯s thugs were laughing and joking, and Patsy himself was about to open his mouth to yell at John again. John quickly cut him off. He was pissed. He was angrier than he had ever remembered in his life.


    ¡°Shut up Patsy and get down here.¡±


    John¡¯s voice was as chilled as the depths of winter. Violent death laced his words, and Patsy quickly forgot whatever he was going to say and hurried down to where he was waiting. At this moment, he wasn¡¯t the young man that Patsy had raised; he was the Ghost. These thoughts tumbled through Patsy¡¯s head as he passed through the swinging door that partitioned off the ring from crowds. John sniffed in annoyance as Patsy took his time getting his bulk to the ring.


    ¡°Quickly, give me the details for the quest from Smiley. I know you¡¯ve been waiting to tell me all morning.¡±


    Patsy blinked in surprise. He quickly forgot John¡¯s unfamiliar verbiage and launched into an explanation.


    ¡°Smiley wants you to rob an item from the bloody Lord of Seven Dials. He didn¡¯t tell me what or when just to meet your crow near the shankhouse by the docks. He said you¡¯ve only got two days to do it.¡±


    John nodded in grim determination and pushed passed Patsy. Patsy just stared at him openmouthed as he made his way upstairs to his room.


    Once John reached the room, he quickly took out all of his gear. It was odd that John had never used this equipment as wholly himself, but every item felt familiar and comforting to him. He smoothly packed all of the gear away with practiced ease. The only difference between before and now is that if focused on an item for longer than a half second, an item description would appear on his HUD. Once he was satisfied that his gear was packed, Jonny put it all away into a large satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He changed from his gear into his night time clothing. The only thing he didn¡¯t put on was his mottled camouflage cloak. The other clothing could be explained away, but the hooded cape would draw too much attention.


    John briskly left the boxing club and made his way the docks with a purposeful and lethal stride. The streets were dirtier than he was used to in his own time, but his time as Jonny was well spent. When pedestrians noticed him coming, they rapidly got out of his way and made it seem as if they were occupied with whatever menial task they were doing. John smiled. It felt good to feel like he was the predator. He had never felt such strength and confidence emanating from his being. The respect and fear from those around him was a heady feeling. Back in his own time, he was merely a proletarian to be stepped on but here¡­here he was a demigod among men.


    John arrived at the docks and started scanning for Mouse¡¯s form. He was able to find Mouse without drawing any undue attention to himself. The boy was doing his own searching but far less surreptitiously than John. John slinked through the crowd and this time he left barely a ripple from his passing. When John wanted to project confidence and lethal intent, he could. In a place like this, it was more appropriate to swim through the currents of people like a shadow in the water.


    John walked through the crowd and appeared directly in front of Mouse propped up against the wall of a building. Mouse¡¯s eyes popped open in surprise and fear as the target of his searching materialized in front him like a specter from a grave. John raised a hand and placed one finger on his lips. Beckoning to the boy, John made his way to the Queen¡¯s Noose. The boy trotted along silently behind him. Mouse was having a difficult time keeping up with John¡¯s swift stride and had to increase his pace up to a half-jog to keep up.


    He strode into the Queen¡¯s Noose as if he owned it and met anyone who glanced up at him with a challenging glare. The few patrons at this hour dropped their heads and went about their business. Without looking to see If the boy was still following, John went to a corner booth in the back and sat down. Mouse glumly followed suit and sat down. John didn¡¯t waste a second.


    ¡°Look, boy I have my sources, and I know what we need to grab, from whom, and how we¡¯re going to gain entry. I also know that we have to do it tonight. So right now, all we need to do is iron out how we¡¯re going to distract the guards inside and ensure that you have a suitable getaway plan.¡±


    Mouse¡¯s look of open-mouthed awe would have brought a chuckle to John¡¯s lips at any other time. Right now, however, it was merely annoying. John sighed and then looked around for the bartender. Grimes was behind the bar, and as if he felt John¡¯s gaze he looked up with a grave expression as he polished a mug with a small rag. He lifted his shoulders in a shrugging motion and gestured to the mug in his hand. John felt like he needed a drink but shook his head all the same. He needed to stay focused and get on with this disaster of a quest. He turned his attention to the boy who had remained quiet while watching the unspoken exchange between Grimes and himself. He finally spoke.


    ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t know how many guards there are inside of the building. I doubt there are too many outside within shouting difference.¡±


    John rapped his fingers against the tabletop in annoyance. He couldn¡¯t exactly tell Mouse that it was the guards outside that had caught and killed him. While he was extremely over this training sim, he didn¡¯t want to break character and risk losing all of the abilities and stats he had acquired. Instead, he tried to inject a measure of calm certainty into his voice.


    ¡°There are guards outside, but I¡¯m not sure how to deal with them. Once I sneak in through the hatch in the roof, I will enter a small storage area. In the hallway outside, there are two guards on opposite ends that are protecting the Lord¡¯s room in the center. What I need is a way for you to draw their attention without actually getting caught. I feel like this mission will fail with your capture.¡±


    John ground his teeth in frustration. He didn¡¯t want to die again. That was a fact. Worse, was dying to that cretin of a woman who could kill a child in cold blood. John didn¡¯t mind killing anymore --a thought that surprised him¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t let an innocent die even in a simulation. This sim was unlike anything he had ever experienced and was indistinguishable from real life. While the choices he made in here wouldn¡¯t matter to the outside world, they mattered to him. He felt like there was something cold and dark twisting its way through him slowly but surely. He intuitively understood that the less moral decisions he made, the more powerful this creature would become. He needed to balance that power and escape his pathetic excuse of a life and yet still maintain a semblance of himself.


    Seeing the thoughts swirling in the Ghost¡¯s face, Mouse gently proffered a potential solution.


    ¡°Well, we could use Elizabeth¡­the girl that got me entry into the manse.¡±


    John¡¯s eyes snapped back from the dark place that his thoughts were taking him to.


    ¡°What do you mean we can use her?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was just thinking that she and her mom switch off staying the night at the Lord¡¯s house. They remain just in case the Lord needs something during the evening. It¡¯s on Lizzy¡¯s off nights that we¡­ahem¡­spend time with one another.¡± Mouse soldiered on despite the embarrassment lighting a fire on his cheeks. ¡°It¡¯s Lizzy¡¯s off night, and that means her mom is staying the night.¡±


    The boy looked into John¡¯s face as if looking for a sign of approval. Unfortunately, he still looked quizzical, so Mouse hurried to explain.


    ¡°We can ask her to pound on the door and cry for her mother. Hopefully, she can raise enough racket that the guards up top will go investigate.¡±


    John frowned in thought.


    ¡°and if they don¡¯t?¡±


    Mouse began to reply and then stuttered to a halt.


    ¡°Uh¡­ I¡¯m not sure then.¡±


    John began to think out loud.


    ¡°What we need is a distraction that¡¯s serious but not so serious that the Lord isn¡¯t permanently roused from her sleep. The guards need a reason to stay distracted but have a reason not to chase you through the streets.¡± John tapped one finger against his chin as he tried to reason out something serious without raising a complete alarm.


    ¡°I could throw a brick through a window?¡±


    The glare that John delivered made Mouse shrink in his seat. After a moment, the glare abated, and John began tapping his chin again.


    ¡°Actually. Throwing something might work. Not a brick, of course. If you throw that, you¡¯re seen as just a childish prank. You¡¯d deserve a painful death, but nothing that requires a real changing of the guard rotation. Now...what if we used fire?¡±


    Mouse looked puzzled. ¡°there¡¯s a chance you could burn down the whole building?¡±


    ¡°No. Just a small one. Maybe if we take a glass bottle, fill it with alcohol, and then set it alight with a rag, we can cause enough of a scare to rattle the Lord without her sending her goons out into the night to find you. If we scare her, she¡¯ll post the guards on the ground floor to protect the premises so that something like that doesn¡¯t happen again.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Mouse began to look excited. He had heard of techniques such as this but had never gotten to do it himself. He imagined that he would look the picturesque rogue if he could throw one and fade into the night. His boyish mind began conjuring up fanciful scenarios of him throwing up massive walls of flame, scaring the Lord¡¯s goons, and then disappearing into the night to enjoy his just deserts with Lizzy.


    John brought him back to reality by loudly slamming his knuckles against the tabletop.


    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. Meet me on the roof of the house across the street from the Lord¡¯s house. Grab what we need from Giles and get there after full dark. Do not bring your girlfriend. We¡¯re going to get in and get out without anyone the wiser. Any questions?¡±


    ¡°Wait, yeah! I forgot to tell you; you¡¯re supposed to kill the Lord for Smiley!¡±


    John shushed the boy vehemently. ¡°Yes, idiot I know. I¡¯ll take care of it. Now grab what we need and scram!¡±


    Mouse leaped from his seat and almost ran to Giles behind the bar. After a hushed conversation, John watched Giles give the boy everything he needed. The boy exited the shankhouse at a run. Giles noticed John¡¯s glower and made his way over to the table with his drink of choice. John didn¡¯t even notice the disparity of his two identities. He had never engaged in any such frivolity in his own time. John went to pull the drink from his hand, but Grimes held it firmly and met his eyes.


    ¡°Be careful lad. You have an aura of death about you. I fear that you may have gotten in over your head on this one. Even the Ghost has to find a grave eventually.¡±


    John nodded and retrieved the drink. He took a small sip and allowed the alcohol to settle on his tongue before replying.


    ¡°You¡¯re more right than you know. Unfortunately, tonight will be a night for killing.¡±


    Grimes shuddered at the steel in John¡¯s eyes and began to walk away. He tossed a half-hearted ¡°good luck¡± over his shoulder before returning to his place behind the bar.


    John slowly sipped on his drink until the sun began to set on the horizon. No one bothered him, and he was left to his own devices. As the dark orange of sunset lit the sky aflame, John rose from his seat. He was none the worse for wear from his measured drinking and instead felt a sense of relaxed alertness. He was confident, now more than ever, that he would be successful on this go. He didn¡¯t want to wipe again.


    The trip itself was uneventful although this time, John remained on the ground rather than taking to the roofs. He had more time this play through and used it to pick up the pulse of the surrounding neighborhood. Once again, John was struck by the similarity that St. Giles had with Jacob¡¯s Island. Although they were in the same city, he always expected that the two territories would have more marked differences.


    John made it to the building before dark had truly set in. He ambled about the neighborhood flawlessly disguising his abilities. He noted that the Lord had guards all around the rookery. It was no surprise that Mouse had been caught the first time. He wished he had taken the time to gather this information previously. He chuckled darkly.


    ¡°Oh well¡­ live and learn. Or in my case, die and learn.¡±


    Once night had indeed fallen, John made his way to the meeting place. He found Mouse hunched over in the shadow of the chimney just like last time. The difference now was that there was no little Lizzy keeping him company.


    Mouse waited until he drew close before he spoke in a hushed whisper.


    ¡°You were right about having to do it tonight. Lizzy came by and let me know. I can¡¯t figure out how you knew that before I did.¡±


    John ignored his implied question.


    ¡°Are you ready boy?¡± Mouse nodded. ¡°Good, I¡¯m going to sneak into the building. Once I¡¯m inside, count to two hundred and then throw the bottle.¡±


    Mouse grimaced. ¡°Sorry, Ghost. I can¡¯t count that high.¡±


    John sighed. ¡°What the hell are they teaching you in school these days?¡±


    Mouse looked at John blankly. ¡°Why would I go to school? My folks can¡¯t pay for that.¡±


    John suppressed his irritation. It wasn¡¯t the kid¡¯s fault that he lived in a time when children were more concerned with getting a job than going to school.


    ¡°Alright, forget it. I¡¯m going to sneak in, and I need you to imagine the amount of time it will take for me to drop my gear and get into position. You¡¯ve done this sort of work, so I¡¯m trusting in you.¡± The last was given in a confident timbre, and it had a surprising effect on the kid. He swelled with determination and nodded forcefully.


    Seeing that the kid understood, John dropped silently from the roof and landed in a small abutting alleyway. He padded across the street and gracefully made his way onto the roof of his target. He marveled at his competence. He would never have been able to something like this before the sim. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the time he spent as Jonny or the resulting stat gains, but he felt silent, graceful, and lethal.


    The hatch posed no trouble for him. He was more familiar with its operation and was inside in mere moments. He silently navigated his way to the ground floor. He did a quick check of all his weapons and eased the larger blades in their scabbards so that he could draw them quickly. Just as before, he lit his dark-lantern and left its muted illumination to fall against the wall away from the door. A short time later, he heard the distinctive shatter of glass and whoosh of flame that heralded the fire bomb¡¯s arrival. It hadn¡¯t been mixed with any thickening agents, and so it should be more shock and awe rather than actual danger.


    The bomb¡¯s conflagration brought shouts of alarm from the guards below. The two on the same floor as him pounded down the stairs. The Lord herself was shaken from her bedroom and cried out.


    ¡°what the bloody hell is going on!?¡±


    One of the thugs responded from below, but John couldn¡¯t hear him from his hidden position. He took the opportunity to open the door while it was masked by the confusion. As a result, he could listen to the exchange between the Lord and her goons.¡±


    ¡°Ok, so who did it?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know Madam, whoever did it ran off as soon as they threw the firebomb. It could be anyone.¡±


    There was a brief silence as the Lord digested the information.


    ¡°Set up a revolving watch on the house. I want most of you outside. Leave two in the guardroom as a relief. Start patrolling around the house and the immediate vicinity. If one of the other guards in the neighborhood discovers who threw the fire bomb at the home, then have the perpetrator brought to me.¡±


    John could hear her turn and march back into her room while leaving the unidentified guard on the step. He smiled. This was perfect for his plans. He didn¡¯t think his planning skills were all that great, but maybe his two points invested into luck were able to turn the tide for him in this situation. The guard retreated down the stairs and left him alone on the floor with the Lord. Still, he didn¡¯t want to move just yet. First, the guards were still on high alert and would respond accordingly to any abnormalities. Second, the Lord would not have had any time to return to her slumber. She seemed unusually competent for this era, and he wasn¡¯t willing to tangle with her in a fair fight. A quick knife to the heart while sleeping would finish this scenario once and for all. John¡¯s conscience rebelled for a brief moment at the thought, but he ruthlessly crushed it. He will kill now and think about the consequences later. He didn¡¯t have time for introspection right now.


    John could feel the tension in the house like a palpable thing. It felt like the attention of some great beast was drawn the actions within it. The feeling of being watched kept John alert and ready. Soon, the eerie feeling began to ebb, and John realized that it was a sort of danger sense provided by an overlapping of intelligence, wisdom, and focus. Once the feeling of ever-present danger subsided completely, John crept from the room and down the hallway.


    He prized open the door without a sound and stayed low to the ground. While a crouch wouldn¡¯t necessarily help him be any sneakier or assist in combat, it was still more subtle than merely walking up to the bed. Should the Lord¡¯s eyes open, he didn¡¯t want her to see his dark silhouette standing over her. A bullet to the brain at this juncture would be an annoying way to respawn. He ignored the treasure trove of Victorian wealth around him and advanced to the bed like a detached shadow. He rose up like a vengeful ghost and slid his knife out of its sheath. It was hard to tell where her body was in the refuge of her coverlets. He could discern that she was sleeping on her side away from him. He realized that he was not in an advantageous disposition, but he wasn¡¯t willing to cross to the other side of the bed and potentially wake the Lord up.


    Slightly reaching over the bed, John struck out with the knife aiming for the approximate location of her kidney. He wanted to angle the blade towards him to potentially nick the major artery in her abdomen, but that would be a lucky shot. The piercing of the kidney would be painful enough to incapacitate her with pain while he capitalized on a more lethal target.


    In a twist of ill timing, She turned in her sleep as the downward sweep of the knife caused it bite into her flesh and skid down her spine. John cursed as she cried out in surprise in pain. The parting in her flesh caused blood to soak the bed immediately but she skillfully rolled away from John until she crashed painfully to the floor. John wasn¡¯t sure what would happen next, but he didn¡¯t hesitate in his response. With one knife in one hand, he drew a throwing knife from the bandolier at his thigh and went to cut her off from the door.


    The Lord jumped from the floor quickly and apparently resisted the urge to hold a hand to her wound. Instead, she raised the pistol she had grabbed while rolling off of the bed and raised it in John¡¯s direction with fire in her eyes. John was not as surprised by this maneuver as the first time and let loose his throwing knife as soon as she began to raise it. The knife sailed true and plunged into the wrist of the hand with the pistol. It clattered to the ground, and before she could react, John had closed the distance between them, kicked away the gun, and brought the gleaming point of his knife up to her throat.


    Despite the obvious pain, she was in, the Lord froze and looked into his eyes. The moonlight took this opportunity to shine into the room and illuminate her face. John detachedly noticed that she was beautiful. Her hair was as black as night but the moonlight illuminated eyes that were as blue as Arctic ice. There was a lethality in them that was reminiscent of an apex predator. For a moment, John was sad. She was beautiful, but the predator in him recognized a fellow threat. Something cold twisted in John¡¯s gut, and John grabbed the back of her head with one hand and slammed the blade home with the other. He watched the spark of vitality fade from her eyes.


    With little remorse, John left the blade where it was and let her drop to the ground. He drew his second knife, strode over to the door, and listened for the telltale sounds of approaching guards. Noticing that their brief exchange didn¡¯t attract any attention, John put his knife back in the sheath and studied the Lord¡¯s body curiously. A rancid stench had already begun to emanate from the body. Holding one arm to his mouth, John reached below her nightgown to the pyramid hanging from a thong around her neck. It used to shine with a spectral green light, but now John noticed that it had turned completely black. He wasn¡¯t sure how it glowed with darkness, but it did. John pulled on the pyramid until the thong snapped and it came free in his hand. He looked down into it and felt as if he were being drawn away.


    The glow surrounding the pyramid began to increase until it was the only thing that he could see. It whisked him back to his own time and his reality.

 Ch. 12 A New Outlook on Life

    John came back to the real world as if waking from a dream. Physically, his vision was completely black and as he waited with unnatural calm the veil of shadow drifted away. His restoring vision brought back the rest of his senses as well. They came as if old friends, the same and yet different as if the passage of time had wrought hidden changes that he had yet to discover. For one, they were sharper. He could smell the tang of sweat and cheap cologne coming from the kitchen where Will was obviously taking up residence. He could hear the clinking of utensils as the man prepared something...heavenly. Oh god, the smell. An exquisite odor was floating from the depths of the kitchen and taking up real estate in John''s nose.


    More than anything, John wanted to leap up and sample whatever was creating such an enticing smell. However, he remained calm. A feeling in his soul cautioned him to stay still until he fully came back to reality. This was a marked difference from the last time John was in an altered state. The anger and uncontrollable fury he felt the previous time was entirely absent. In fact, he felt more whole than ever before. It was like a wound that he had never realized he had until he felt the relief.


    Even though John sat draped in shadow, he could see further into the darkness than he could before. What was once subtle lines and intangible corners became objects in sharp relief. Moreso, he felt...comfortable. The shadows of the apartment were friendly companions. They felt safe.


    Finally, he slowly rose from the couch. His movements were graceful and silent. He turned to see Will cooking something within a pan on a stovetop. Watching him cook, John realized that if he wanted he could sneak up on him without him even realizing. The implications didn''t shock John. It felt right that he should be able to. He cleared his throat.


    "I''m back."


    Startled, Will jumped and shot an accusing glance in his direction.


    "Collective, you scared the shit out of me John." Will looked him over with a measuring gaze as if weighing the changes that the cube had wrought.


    "You look different. I''m not going to ask you what happened in there. It''s different for every person that goes through it, but I know that it wasn''t easy." He paused to consider. "It can be difficult to forget the people you met, the person you were, and what you had to do." He gave John a searching look. "I advise that you forget that you even went and be thankful for the abilities it granted you."


    A sudden shattering sound caught both of their attention. In John''s hand, the pyramid in his hand cracked, and the broke apart completely. Tinkling, glass-like shards fell from his fist, and black smoke wafted from his closed fingers. John turned his attention back to will with aggressive intensity. Part of him expected some retaliation from the man and he subtly shifted his weight accordingly. Instead, Will gave him a quizzical look.


    "What the hell was that?" John looked back down at his fist and brushed his hands together to rid himself of the debris. He could see that the material on the floor was undergoing some weird sublimation process as it transferred from solid to more of the smoke-like gas. Transfixed, he took a moment to respond.


    "I''m not sure, Will. Did I break it?"


    Will shook his quickly. "Nah, they''re supposed to be damn near indestructible. That''s part of why they''re so valuable." He shrugged. "Easy come, easy go I suppose."


    John remained silent. He searched his memories to see if he had done something to cause the inadvertent destruction. Even now he could feel the memories from the simulation fading away. They were swiftly becoming more dream than reality. He probed his thoughts of Mouse like one would a sore tooth. He found that he preferred this dream-like quality. Pulling himself from his thoughts, he ghosted into the kitchen, and Will noticed the fluidity that John displayed and chuckled.


    "It does seem to give more to some than others. Hey, come check this out." He said, gesturing to the food he was preparing.


    At his beckoning, John drew closer and finally let his body enjoy the tantalizing smell filling the small domicile. "What is this, it smells amazing." John drew out the last word with thinly hidden desire and Will laughed as John craned over his shoulder.


    "It was my favorite thing growing up. You seem to have missed out on a lot of things, and I wanted you to try it." Will went on, and John didn''t want to interrupt as a faraway look entered Will''s eyes. After all, he might stop making the food.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    "I already told you that my family earned their name because of Disable. Well, having a name doesn''t guarantee any measure of wealth. It''s more of a social and political status than anything else. My family has never been wealthy by core world standards, but we did well. My parents, in particular, made sure that they were around to have at least one homemade dinner each night."


    Will gestured to the stove. "You won''t find many of these anymore. They''re relics of a different time. In this day and age, most food can be made by adding a reacting agent with pre-made food. Usually, you only have to add water, but some of the deep space food is different."


    Will tapped at his chin and John noted the particular tick. He had never noticed before this moment. "Some of them are pretty good, but the cheap ones are almost always awful. I think the worst one I''ve ever had was a veggie omelet. I''m not sure what company makes it, but they have to share their manufacturing center with a water treatment plant."


    He laughed and looked at John to see if he caught the joke. Seeing nothing but polite interest, he continued. "Anyway, this is a family favorite. It''s curry and rice. I''m not sure where the food is actually from but its cheap and its good. My parents used to make every week, and it became something of a family event."


    A dark look crossed his face. "Back then, my parents were different people." He fell silent for a moment while still stirring the curry.


    He stared into the pan as if he was reliving the past in its contents. "Back then, my dad was a Guardian. It''s another class. They focus on a mixed assault and healing strategy. They''re kind of similar the paladins of legend. They also tend to become civil peace officers, security guards, or anything of that nature."


    Seeing that the food was just about done he dropped the temperature and then moved to a small white canister on the counter that John had previously disregarded as unimportant. John looked on with interest. Will pressed a diminutive button on the cannister and a bright chime rang out. It opened, and Will began to spoon small white granules into two waiting bowls. John was a little taken aback. He thought that WIll would be introducing him to something more exotic, but this looked like the wriggling insects that invaded food that was left out too long. John decided to remain silent instead of risking offending Will and his family''s cooking. Will continued to speak as he worked.


    "So my dad used to have a position of authority on this planet''s security force. He taught many of the guards his Disable tactic, and for a while, they were pretty successful in keeping crime down in this city." Will sighed and moved from the kitchen to the dining room table with two bowls. John followed dutifully and sat down opposite of Will. He grimaced and then slid the bowl over to John.


    "Well, all of that changed when Mom died." John paused with a spoon of the brown, heavily spiced substance halfway to his mouth. Will still hadn''t touched his utensil. John awkwardly decided how to proceed. Will looked up and noticed his dilemma.


    "Just eat."He gave a small, sad smile. "Sorry, I don''t know why I''m springing this on you right now, kid." He picked up his spoon and watched John put the first bite into his mouth.


    A series of expressions flitted through John''s face. First, there was surprise, then came pleasure, and he finally settled on content. The expression brought a bit of the roughishness back to Will. He grinned, a gleam in his eye.


    "Well! what did you think!?"


    John didn''t reply and instead began scarfing down the food with renewed vigor while Will chuckled, looking on.


    The rest of dinner passed fairly quickly, and soon it was time to begin business. Will collected the dinnerware and John watched him go with a fair bit of wistfulness. Will placed the dishes in an automatic cleaning receptacle and then returned to the table.


    "Alright John, let''s begin planning for our heist." He pulled a cigar from the depths of his coat and brought it to his lips. John noticed a bright light flash in the ceiling, and suddenly the cigar was aflame. He puffed slowly and then met John''s eyes.


    "Alright John, what did you learn?"


    John paused, suddenly wondering how much he should reveal to Will. So far, Will had been nothing but helpful, but John wasn''t used to this sort of treatment, and it still made him uneasy.


    "Well, I hit level five. I know how to be stealthy, and I know how to sneak, ambush and throw. More than that, I feel different. My senses seem to be slightly sharper, and altogether I feel a degree more..." John paused trying to put into words how he felt.


    "Well?"


    Without thinking John''s voice came out an unnatural growl. The sound raised the hair on Will''s neck.


    "...lethal. I feel more lethal." John smiled. It seemed a hair too menacing. It was confident and relaxed like a resting predator. Will successfully stifled his consternation. If the kid could help him break into the manor, then WIll didn''t care what the simulation taught him.


    He continued. "Good. let''s get this started." He pulled out a thin data disk and placed it on the table. With a gesture, a diagram of a manor house sprung into being and began to rotate slowly. Excitement pooled in John''s belly and spread to his chest. He was ready for this. He was prepared to prove himself and finally become an Outlaw.

 Ch. 13 My Kingdom for a Gun

    John sat in the darkness of Will''s apartment. It was early morning. The light hadn''t yet penetrated the privacy glass of the living room. He changed position, placing his hands behind his head and studied the ceiling. While the plush couch was more comfortable than anything he had ever had the fortune to sleep on, he had been awake for a few hours. He could hear Will''s light snores through the door across the room as he watched the minutes tick away on his internal interface.


    He wasn''t the least bit tired. On the contrary, he felt an energy thrumming like background noise. It was just barely perceptible and just as quickly forgotten. Dismissing, the sensation he considered the plans for today. Last night they had covered the layout of the Crow Manor and the tentative plan for the heist. John wasn''t sure why the armor was so important to Will. Apparently, he had a small cache of armor and weapons within the apartment. It was enough for John that he could become an Outlaw on this quest and finally get himself off world.


    The barest glimmers of light filtered their way into the room and John roused himself from the couch. He stood slowly and padded his way into the kitchen. He didn''t bother putting his plain boots on. Will had already told him that he would be getting some upgrades this morning. He walked towards the rectangular, white appliance in the kitchen. Will had called it a refrigerator and John had since been enamored with the excess that the item represented. For most of his life, John had only eaten the tasteless, dehydrated food that everyone else could afford. This refrigerator was something else. Will needed it because he had to keep actual food from spoiling. Opening it allowed the cold air to lick against his skin and he relished the feeling as John searched its contents. Perusing quickly, he snagged a silver bag of fruit juice. John wasn''t quite sure what it would taste like but there were quite a few in the fridge and John could surmise that Will enjoyed them so they couldn''t be that bad. Placing the plastic bit in his mouth, he sucked some of the juice out as he had seen Will do. It was delicious. An explosion of flavor took over his mouth in a saccharine wave. He finished it quickly and then tossed the drained bag in the receptacle.


    Thedull whine of the bag being vaporized was followed by the sound of the bedroom door opening. Will muttered as he zombie walked from his bedroom. Light began turning on around the apartment in response to his shuffling. A savory, rich smell began to permeate the kitchen as Will entered and John was surprised to see a steaming mug of some black liquid poured from a small appliance next to the fridge. John moved out of the way as Will drew closer to the substance with single-minded purpose. He grabbed it with both hands and brought it to his face like it was a drug. John chuckled at the sight of the usually taciturn Will cradling the drink and inhaling the vapors coming off of it. He received a bloodshot glare from Will for his trouble. John raised his palms is a silent, mock surrender.


    It wasn''t until Will had finished the first cup ofkaffe(as he dubbed it) and started on the second before Will was in any state to communicate like a rational human being. John watched and waited bemused as he drank another bag of juice.


    "So kid, are you ready to get outfitted like a real Outlaw? Well, at least as much as I can with the stock I have here in the apartment. Luckily you''re about my size, and I have some gear that will fit you."


    John smiled broadly and tried to tamp down his enthusiasm. "I''m excited to see how many of my skills transferred over." Will looked at him over his cup ofkaffe.


    "That all you''re excited about?" He raised an eyebrow for emphasis.


    John looked down abashedly. "Nah..I''m excited to have some new gear too. I''ve only seen Peace Keepers and the like with any real armor or weapons."


    Will chuckled and let the kid off of the hook. After all, he was excited when he first got his first piece of gear as well. It was under considerably different circumstances, and the equipment that Will was giving to John could be attained from any local pawn shop. It wasn''t the best or the most expensive, but it would do to sneak into the manor. If they were lucky, not a single shot would have to be fired. As he was musing, Will put his mug down on a counter and made his way to one of the blank walls in the living room. As he got closer a sensor surreptitiously nestled in the ceiling scanned his body and read his biometrics. As soon as he was a foot away from the wall, a small hiss was heard and the wall split in twain. John followed behind Will and at his approach, a warning flashed in Will''s interface. He dismissed it with a gesture and beckoned for John to follow him into the now revealed armory. It wasn''t a large place, barely more than a closet but it had always sufficed for this insignificant bolt holt.


    On racks around the room, sat all manner of weapons. A myriad of handguns, shotguns, and rifles took up residence next to bladed weapons and staves. The sheet variety was more impressive than the quantity. On dimly lit shelves, different types of armor were stacked neatly for easy donning. All of the gear brought a host of questions to John''s lips, and Will silenced them with a look.


    Will gestured expansively at the shelves and racks within the room. "You''re allowed to pick anything, but I would be careful what you bring out of here. Remember that we''re on a stealth mission and that the intent is to break in and not to raze the place to the ground." He paused to give John a meaningful look which John returned unconcernedly. Now that he was actually around weapons, he felt old instincts from his time as Jonny surfacing. He turned a critical eye towards the shelves and began weighing the choices in his head.


    Seeing that John was carefully listening, Will continued. "Alright, you pick out your weapons and then I''ll help you select clothing and armor." He paused as he considered. "Actually...do you know anything about armor types?"


    John just shook his head as he began to inspect the different bladed weaponry. Watching this Will began to explain the armor system.


    "Ok, there are three types of armor. We refer to them as classes, and the reason we have different classes centers on the use of Psionics. The most basic class is the Dream Class of armor. It is made primarily for those gifted with Psionics. Since the beginning, Psions have noticed that synthetic or artificial materials within their clothing and armor interfere with the Psion''s ability to channel their brand of magic outside of their bodies. For that reason, they usually don''t wear any of the heavier classes of armor that are available for Outlaws and Warriors." As he was talking, Will was showing John the various pieces of gear he was talking about.


    John didn''t think the armor didn''t look very different from the clothing he was already wearing. It was apparently made of more exceptional materials, but it wouldn''t stop a blaster bolt or a sword any better than what he was already wearing. He said as much to Will, and the man chuckled.


    "Psions usually walk around with a shield made of energy around them. In addition to reducing any incomingdamage, it can also allow them to survive the rigors of space and other hostile environments they may find themselves in for a short period." He tapped a finger to his chin, a favorite tick.


    "In fact, Outlaws may get the short end of that particular stick. Magic users can make shields broad enough to survive almost any environment. Of course, when they run out of magic the shield is gone, and they become a lot more vulnerable. Warriors get to use Assault class armor, and that turns them into veritable tanks. Since they don''t rely on psionics, they can load up their armors will all kinds of ballistic armor, self-healing apparatuses, and damage reduction subsystems."


    He noticed John hefting an eastern-style katana and testing its balance expertly. "We have it much worse in some ways. Our armor, Trade class, is more technologically advanced than Dream class armor but also not quite as powerful as Assault armor. Theirs are packed with all kinds of technology, but they''re usually built as a unit because of the expense. The tradeoff is the modularity. Ours usually consist of a durable underlayer with places for attaching different components based on mission set. This allows to quickly transition from something like a heist or information gathering to a full-blown assassination. The unpredictability and adaptability is our force multiplier against other classes."


    He looked over at John staring intently at a gray, metallic bracer as if trying to divine its function.


    "Careful, kid. You''ll shoot your eye out. There''s a small groove where an energy bolt will shoot out once the bracer is keyed to its user."


    John looked up excitedly. "Hell yeah, can I use it?"


    "I said you could use anything." Will shrugged.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Will examined its stats.


    <table width="514">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td>


    Ruger LCGc


    ¡°The Ruger LCGc consists of an aerospace-grade alloy firing mechanism nestled within a carbon nanotube gauntlet. Once keyed to the user, it can be linked with the user interface to set up automatic firing patterns.¡± 1-Hand, Energy.


    10-20 Damage


    1.5 Attacks per Second


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He wasn''t sure what the acronym meant, but he surmised that the lower case "c" just meant "cheap." The gauntlet itself did look pretty impressive. But something in his gut told him to put the weapon back down. It felt more like a gimmick than an actual weapon. Will just had a shit-eating grin as he put it back where he found it. It seemed his hunch had been correct.


    Looking around the rest of the room, he felt his gaze drawn to one weapon in particular. Or rather, a pair of them. They were two hefty revolvers. He put his thoughts to words.


    "Hey, are we going to be fighting at any range?"


    WIll''s grin faded as he considered how to best answer the question.


    "If we end up fighting at range then the whole point of the mission will be moot. We are just there to sneak in, grab some of my things, and get enough points to get off the planet." He shrugged. "That being said, you might need something with range when we leave the planet, and we aren''t going to have the luxury of buying weapons beforehand. Our eventual goal, the fringes of human-controlled space, has weapon sellers but their vastly overpriced to take advantage of people like us."


    John almost reconsidered the revolvers, but instead, he settled on them. He picked them up, one in each hand, and studied them. They were lethally beautiful. Their completely black bodies gave off a blue metallic glint as they poured into grey polymer grips. The textured grips fell perfectly into his hands, and their weight was nonexistent. He could see various points on the revolvers that were bare. The weapons seemed incomplete without any trappings like sights or guidance systems.


    With a casual flick of his hand and press of a button near his thumb, the cylinders slid silkily out of their recesses and displayed a variety of color-coded ammunition. He found that with just the right movement of his wrist he could get the cartridge to flip to a different round and then seal itself back into the recess. He noticed that a small light indicator on the back of the revolver showed him what round was currently chambered.


    "What about these?"


    "Oh, those. Those aren''t bad. They''re a little underdeveloped compared to some of the other weapons." Will gestured at a stack of rifles. "Those have a few more upgrades to boost their stopping power. But again, the revolvers aren''t bad. They''re smaller and just as modular as the larger weapons I have." He walked over and took one of the weapons out of John''s hand and studied it.


    "If I remember correctly, it has a few different kinds of rounds even like this. It should have flechette, high explosive, flash, and flame rounds outside of the normal ones." He looked up into John''s face and noticed the excitement.


    "But look...most weapons have those, and they aren''t smart rounds in the revolver. It doesn''t have any system for syncing up with your user interface. You would have to aim and shoot them yourself, and we don''t have time to train you like that."


    John became alarmed. "No! I''ll take them anyway. You won''t have to teach me to shoot them, I promise! I feel like I already know how to anyway." He reached out for the second revolver and Will quizzically gave it to him.


    "Ok, kid. I said you could have anything. We probably won''t even get the chance to use them." He dismissively turned away from John and started rifling through a crate on the far side of the room. His voice echoed from inside the container.


    "I need to find you a bodysuit that fits so that we can start putting some general Trade class armor on you. I also have aspareset for myself around here somewhere until we can steal my actual rig from the mansion."


    "Aha!" He pulled agray bodysuit from the crate and held it aloft. He spun around so that John could see it. "What do you think?"


    John put the revolvers down and drew closer. He quickly inspected the garment. "I''m not sure what to think. It''s uh...gray." Will sighed heavily.


    "Yes. It''s gray. How observant of you. This is damn near magical. It helps regulate your temperature, deflect some kinds of ammunition and energy attacks, and even keep you safe in the vacuum of space!"


    John tried to search the material for any sign of its life-saving properties. Finding none, he decided just to believe Will. He did happen to notice small grooves on the article where it looked like more could be added on to it. He pointed at one such place.


    "What are these?"


    Will positioned himself so that he could see what John was referring to.


    "Oh, those are the attachment points I was talking about. This whole thing can be upgraded. It''s the base layer of Trade class armor, but essentially the sky is the limit for what it can eventually do." He gave John a sharp look. "It costs a fortune."


    John started and drew himself upright. "Oh, yeah. Thanks!" He quickly snagged the suit from Will and moved to the far side of the room. He promptly changed over from his clothes and into the bodysuit. It was loose at first and he easily able to put it on. It draped off of him like it was partially melted. The sleeves fell past his hands comically, and he looked to Will in barely concealed despair.


    Will looked up from his bodysuit as he completed changing over as well and chuckled at John''s plight. "Watch this." He smacked his palm onto his chest and immediately the suit began to retract and fit itself across his frame. The material was skintight except around the genital area where it looked like the suit provided extra protection for obvious reasons.


    Aping Will, John did the same thing, and his suit began to simultaneously crawl up his neck towards his face and also tighten around every part of his body. The sensation was eery and quite uncomfortable. It stopped just below his jaw, and he could feel the suit rise up the back of his neck until it ended where his skull met his spine. The sleeves rewound themselves and flowed like water until they coalesced into gloves and boots on his feet. He picked up one foot and then the other to allow the suit to complete its transformation.


    Just as the suit finished, he heard a cold voice in his head.Finally!


    A sudden and stabbing pain radiated from where his skull met his spinal column and John fell to his knees in response. He let out a groan as he threw his hands over the site on instinct. He could feel something growing. A small, hard ring felt like it was pushing from beneath his skin and through the bodysuit. He couldn''t see but Will let out a gasp as black spread like ink from where John had cupped his hands on his neck. It flowed from the areas swiftly and encompassed every part of the suit like a tidal wave. By the end, his entire bodysuit was midnight black.


    The pain receded, and John was filled with a kind of unholy strength. He stood up and stared down at his body in awe. Not only had the color changed on his suit, but more radical changes had been made. Muscles had seemed to overlay themselves over his entire body. Where before he had been a solidly built but under-muscled man. Now he could compete in any aesthetic bodybuilding competition. Looking even closer, he saw that the suit had gone from a matte material to one that was made up of slightly reflective hexagonal cells. There were black metallic rings that protruded from every joint. In order, he found them on his wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees, and ankles. Holding his arms up he discovered that his knuckles had been reinforced. Turning his arms, he found that his elbows had been strengthened as well. In fact, every place he could conceivably strike an opponent had been reinforced for that specific purpose.


    After studying himself, he looked up at Will. Confusion and awewereevident in his face. "I didn''t know they did this! This is awesome!" He gave a literal jump of joy. "You could have warned me about the pain though." He looked over at Will with a massive smile on his face. It slowly faded as he took in Will''s expression.


    "What?"


    Will came closer without saying anything. He began to study the suit intently. "Holy shit. This isn''t supposed to happen." He muttered something else intangible. "This looks like a military-grade suit." What the actual fuck is happening to you kid?" He drew back confusion and some fear evident in his eyes. "First the anger, then how keenly you picked up a technique that should''ve taken you ages, and now this." He moved further back and placed his hand on a weapon. The action looked instinctual rather than thought through.


    John wasn''t sure what was going on, but he placedhishandspalm up in surrender. "Look, I don''t know what you''re talking about, and I don''t know what''s going on right now. Why don''t we talk about this?"


    Will''s hand settled on the grip of a pistol, and he looked down at his hand in surprise. Pulling it off the crate it was resting on; he brought it to bear on John. "Tell me what is going on right now!"


    John didn''t move. His entire attention fixed on the barrel points directly at his face. He tried once again to reason with Will. "I...dont...know. I was directed to you by Collective, remember?"


    The mention of Collective, made him lower the weapon slightly. Instead of being pointed at John''s face, it was now aimed at his chest. After a moment of thought, he dropped it even further.


    "You''re right. Collective did bring you to me. It thought you would help me accomplish a mission and it thought I could help you get a class. That''s it." He stared down at the pistol meditatively in his hand.


    "I''m going to get you geared, you''re going to help me break into this mansion, and then we''re done." He looked determinatively into John''s eyes. "After this...we''re done. Too much weird shit has happened around you. I''ll be damned if my freedom, my way of life, or my chances of success will be damaged by a nameless like you."


    There it was. The slur dropped like Will had been saying it his whole life. It fell so easily from his lips that John wondered if he had been saying it his whole life. It was as if the kindness and the genuine helpfulness that Will had displayed had dropped away as it had never been there. What was left was incongruous with what John had thought of Will. Instead of kindness and almost a brotherly affection, he saw the cold glint of ambition. He saw the distaste that Will held for John. It was the look of someone who would use an ignorant nameless for his uses and not give a damn about what would happen to him. In short, it was the eyes of an Outlaw and John wondered if he would find that same look on his face.