The Forsaken Crypts

by Terry C. Simpson

  Two images materialized. In the first, dated two years ago, a dozen people posed inside the Barclays Center. The second picture was Carlson, himself, separated from the group. He was a lanky man no older than thirty-five with creepy silver eyes. Sidrie sent the images.

  “He’s a young one,” Keenan said. “I expected some deformed old bastard. Only one person in the entire group resembles the ugly fucks we typically fight.”

  “The very reason it cannot be made public,” Sidrie said.

  “Making it public is exactly what you should do.” Keenan shrugged. “The common Citizen already considers anyone from the Bottom Wards to be DeGens. Many of those look no different than you or me.”

  Sidrie shook her head. They had to maintain that fear factor. The idea of DeGens spreading disease and worse. “The status quo must remain. It works in our favor.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She knew Keenan did not agree, but he was not one to debate things he considered above his pay grade. Not that his opinion would have changed her mind.

  An incoming comm lit up her optics. Austin Carter, the be-spectacled senior analyst for Gameborn Deployment. He would only be contacting her directly if something was wrong.

  Sidrie shot a glance over to Keenan. “Are you getting the same call?”

  “Yes.”

  She answered the comm. The analyst was sitting at his desk, a series of holograms arrayed around him. “Good morning, Austin.”

  “Good morning, Miss Malikah.” Mr. Carter licked his lips nervously. “We’ve got a situation.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s D600, Miss Malikah.”

  “What about it?”

  “He completed his mission.”

  “Austin Carter, you did not contact me just to tell me that.”

  “And then he called the authorities to report the killing and turned himself in,” Austin blurted.

  Sidrie’s gut clenched. “D600 did what?”

  “Carried out his mission, then called the authorities while still in the home, and turned himself in.”

  “I heard you the first time,” Sidrie snapped. “Terminate it. This second.”

  Austin looked away from his screen toward one of the holos. Lit up in green, the holo displayed the DeGen gameborn, D600, a dark-skinned boy in his late teens. The holo turned red. Austin visibly relaxed.

  Moments later, he said. “It’s done, Miss Malikah.”

  With a thought, Sidrie had Estella confirm the kill. “Good. Have your techs go over all surveillance in D600’s vicinity for anything it might have said. Contact Mister Costace with your findings.”

  “Yes, Miss Malikah. Right away, Miss Malikah.”

  Sidrie severed the connection. Worry needled in her gut. D600’s assignment had been the assassination of Germaine Peterson, the lead AI engineer at Apex Solutions. What the hell could have caused the thing to then turn itself in?

  “How do you want to handle this?” Keenan was facing her, those gunmetal eyes studying her face.

  “We can try to get ahead of it, float a story about a DeGen killing another engineer.” Mind working, Sidrie frowned. “We already use the DeGen’s hate for tech and our society as one of the reasons for their terrorist acts. The silo raids, Constantine’s murder, and now this, are all a part of that.”

  “Except there isn’t any news of Peterson’s death yet.” Keenan shook his bald head. “I checked every channel. They’re withholding it. Which means we can’t be the first to say anything. We gotta be reactive rather than proactive. I’ll have my sources run down the details law enforcement has and any internal chatter.”

  Sidrie tapped an index finger on her wrist as she considered his words. “You’re right. But I hate waiting.”

  Keenan chuckled. “You hate being on the defensive, period. But sometimes the best offense is defense. And then, you can counter.”

  Something else bothered Sidrie. “Why do you think D600 did it?”

  Keenan shrugged. “Guilt.”

  “Guilt?” The word didn’t make sense to her.

  “Yeah. Even the most hardened killer had a conscience at some point. Or questioned what he was doing. Then there’s the fact that he’s D series.”

  “The DeGen gameborn.” Sidrie scowled. “I warned Dr. Redmond about them. I said they were weak. Too emotional. Every setback we experienced originated from that line. It’s past time I end it.”

  “I don’t think being DeGens has anything to do with it.”

  Sidrie’s lip curled. “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ll start by saying I understand why you choose the D series for that particular sort of work. They’re arguably the best since they’ve been in VR or SR from childhood, a longer time than any of the others.

  “But that’s also part of their weakness. The games they played offered too many ways they could build attachments, interact with people, experience an imitation of normal life. Feelings.

  “Unlike the G series who’re adult clones. Blank brains that we fill with whatever we want, and in their case, brains that get to deal with combat situations in SR and out. Just death. No strings. The Gs don’t even know what a conscience is. They can be scary as fuck and have issues being around people, but you won’t ever have to worry about this sorta thing with them.”

  “Sometimes, you surprise me, Mister Costace.”

  Keenan took a bow. “I aim to please, ma’am.”

  She took a moment to consider all he had said. Changing the program now would be a setback, but it would be worth it in the end.

  A part of her regretted not being able to use D Ten Thirty, Setnana Botros, the latest DeGen gameborn she’d singled out for acclimation and training. The other part was glad. She had misgivings when she’d reviewed D Ten Thirty’s reactions to its current objectives in Void Legion. Particularly after she had given it Gilda Mordian’s location. If those emotions had manifested in the real world, they would have spelled disaster.

  Just that quickly, Sidrie projected her intentions to Estella and received a summary of costs. “Going forward, we use only G series for missions. You know them well, so you get to choose. I will have the D series removed from the program.”

  “Removed?” Keenan’s thick brows climbed his forehead. “As in terminated?”

  Sidrie nodded. “They serve no other purpose that would justify their cost. We could use the resources on new subjects.”

  Doubt flashed across Keenan’s face. “Could some of them serve in more delicate situations, ones where their loyalties to the company and their feelings are assets? You know… spies.”

  Sidrie admired his line of thinking. “In any other circumstance it might be a yes, but I already have gameborn serving those needs.”

  Keenan cracked a pearly white smile. “What if some of them are sent home? According to the DeGens captured and questioned during the assault here, setting the testers free was one of their intentions. I say we make it so the DeGens can try again. Leave a weakness they can exploit.”

  Sidrie’s brows bunched as she followed his line of thought. “And use our plant to discover everything about them, so we can crush them completely.” She had to admit the idea was brilliant, and she, herself, had been too close to the situation, too determined to see the DeGens suffer, too intent on giving them nothing, that she had overlooked the possibility.

  “Exactly.” Keenan nodded. “As for any you don’t want to use for that plan… hook them into the combat program. They’re skilled. Why let the skills go to waste? The Gs can benefit from better opponents.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you are very convincing when you wish to be?” Sidrie regarded Keenan with an arched brow.

  “Once in a while.” Keenan smiled.

  “I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll inst
ruct Dr. Redmond to make the necessary changes. Meanwhile, do keep an eye out for any details regarding the Peterson situation, and prep which G series gameborn you think would be best for our next target, Marva Tierney.”

  “Got it, ma’am.” He paused, brow furrowed. “Tierney. She’s from Intel, right?” Sidrie nodded. “I’m on it.” Keenan gave her the tiniest salute and departed.

  The talk about the gameborn and the program made Sidrie think about Void Legion. She still had the issue of the anomalies. She scowled. They reminded her of the DeGens in the First Ward. Ghosts. She hated mysteries.

  Her thoughts turned to Dre. “Estella, play the recording from Hotel Manzania.”

  She did not need to specify. Estella knew the recording. Sidrie had her play it countless times already.

  A new holo replaced the map. It featured the inside of a hotel room. Dre was hugging Just Blaze from behind at the window. The rising sun peeked in through the curtains.

  Sidrie recited even as the two people spoke. The first was Just Blaze.

  “Funny thing is that a part of me finds the risk exciting while another part is scared shitless. Especially since we have to play.”

  Dre followed a moment later. “I’d still play regardless. Particularly after experiencing Total Immersion. And seeing Pops. He’s worth it all by himself.”

  The holo repeated. So did Sidrie.

  She had spent sleepless nights studying those words, poring over Alphonso’s work, scouring the bits they’d salvaged of Dr. Hank Kim’s research on Whole Brain Emulation when he was working for Equitane. She drew to the same conclusion every time.

  Alphonso had an NPC in the game to imitate him.

  She intended to discover who the NPC was and where it was located. The possibility existed that she might attain all the protocols in one swoop. All she needed was a bit of patience. Patience. She ground her teeth at the word.

  CHAPTER 28

  Screeches, roars, and bestial cries echoed from deep in the city. Urging their mounts on, the group galloped toward the opening at the end of the lane. The sound of their mounts’ feet and claws on cobbles was soon drowned out by a loud drum. A rumble. Thunder. Frost recognized the noise immediately. Hundreds of onrushing feet. He shuddered at the idea of so many void beasts.

  The group spilled from the lane into the intersection of two wide avenues. Buildings lined the streets. Directly ahead was the Temple of Jerad, a statue of the grand korae’s glaive-wielding patron god standing atop stairs that spanned the entirety of the building’s facade. Armed people waited on the landing. Every playable race was present among them.

  Stacked bricks, logs, furniture, and iron drums and posts covered in spikes formed ramshackle barricades on the approach to the temple. They would be more of a nuisance than a hindrance to void beasts. It was a sign of desperation.

  Frost snatched a look behind. The fastest of the void beasts bounded down the avenue. The distance was closing rapidly.

  He considered flying over the barricade before he remembered the void dragon. Following Kazawa like the others, he wove his way among the obstacles. Blood and bits of flesh stained the ground and clung to many of the spikes, but Frost saw no corpses.

  The people beyond the barricades were waving them on, yelling for them to hurry. Another glance over his shoulder revealed more void beasts than the first time. Scores more. He refocused ahead. People were now positioned where the obstacles began. Within minutes, Frost and his group passed the first group of people and dashed up the stairs onto the landing.

  Several of the people around them had the Coalition’s Mountain and the Aetherstream on display. Frost figured those were NPCs like Kazawa’s company.

  Frost eyed the numerous guild emblems. Whether on their sleeves, lapels, cloaks, or a combination of all, many players wore them proudly. The players were aligned in obvious groups, even if mixed by guilds. He counted at least eight groups. The players he had passed soon rejoined them on the landing.

  He took special note of the players wearing the Herald of WaR. The insignia was the most dominant atop the landing. WaR members only associated with their own. Their gear was superior to that worn by everyone else.

  For the briefest of moments his gaze lingered on a female WaR member who was passing instructions to another. He turned away and hoped she nor anyone else had noticed his eyes widen. Or had noticed him at all.

  Although she was dressed in green robes threaded with gold, he could not forget that angular face. The golden-brown skin. The bright hazel eyes. She was Meileen. WaR’s co-leader.

  Frost whispered into group chat, “Keep an eye out in case those WaR members recognize any of us. Meileen’s with them.”

  “We should get out of here,” Saba said.

  “Too late for that,” Frost replied.

  “Newcomers,” bellowed a towering silver-armored gargant, his voice like a fog horn, the Herald of WaR standing out on his black cloak. He paused for effect, surveying Frost and his group.

  The hair that covered the entirety of his face had been trimmed into an immaculate pointed beard. His features reminded Frost of a picture he’d seen of a buffalo. The gargant’s weapons of choice were korbitanium greaves and fists, the latter a pair of hierkas. The Herald was also displayed over his heart, filigreed in gold.

  The gargant pointed at Frost’s group with his gleaming fist weapon. “Help on the far left with the other Puggers.”

  “Did he just call us Puggers?” Dante screwed up his face as they moved into position among a motley crew of other players sporting various guild emblems or none at all.

  “Sure did.” Meritus chuckled.

  “Disrespectful.” Dante shot a baleful glare toward the gargant. “Never been part of a PUG in any game.”

  “Pick Up Groups are not that bad,” Ryne said. “There can be some good talent to be had among random players.”

  Meritus spoke up. “For every single good player in a PUG, there’s five others who have no clue how to play their class, who’ll try to zerg a boss, just stand in shit, or cause the group to wipe.”

  “But that does not make—” Ryne began.

  “Don’t, lil buddy,” Dante admonished. “Just don’t.”

  “Just trying to make you feel better.” Ryne’s concerned expression said he meant every word.

  “I’m glad they think we’re trash.” Frost eyed the WaR members. “Means they won’t be paying much attention to us.”

  “As good as that sounds, let me hit us with a Pack buff in case we need to run.” Saba cast the ability even as she uttered the words. The buff seeped into the group, giving Frost a sense of lightness as if he were the wind itself. “Good to go,” Saba added.

  A shout from the silver-armored WaR gargant cut off their conversation. “Okay, people, this is it. Remember to wait for them to hit the traps. Ranged, get ready. If you have an AOE slow, stun, stagger or any other type of CC, use it, then go all out.

  “Melee, we fight at the bottom of the stairs and our main job is to stop any mobs from getting to the ranged. Mystics, summon your Servitors, and do what you do best: keep everyone alive.”

  Howling and roaring, the first wave of void beasts reached the barricades. A thrill eased through Frost upon seeing them. An old familiar feeling he once craved. The thrill of a raid.

  The void beasts included wolves, arkets, and lamias. Among them were two hulking behemoths with rippling muscles, faces and bodies a mix of bear and bull complete with ridges of horns running down their backs. Black and silver void energy distorted the air around them all.

  Frost could easily discern the powerful build of each monster. The enhanced details. They were elite.

  He hissed at the behemoths. They were even stronger than the others. They had titles. Resha and Rajan.

  “Those two GUMs are gonna tear ri
ght through those barricades,” he scoffed.

  “No, they won’t,” said a player near Frost. She was a slender buttermilk grand kora whose ossicones twitched as Frost’s gaze settled on her. She offered a tight smile. “You’ll see.”

  Frost returned his attention to the incoming threat, expecting the beasts to blast through the makeshift barriers or leap over them. The behemoths slammed into the brick walls. And failed to break a single one of them.

  A few wolves and arkets leaped over some logs. Only to be impaled by spikes on the other side. If they leaped too high, they triggered a Trap in the form of an electrical field, causing them to plummet to the ground. The rest of the wave followed the path created by the obstacles.

  “What the hell?” Frost stared as the GUMs shook off the impacts and dashed after their counterparts.

  “Reinforced and imbued with aether by WaR’s engineers.” The grand kora smiled proudly. “And the engineers change up the position, height, and pattern of the obstacles every time to compensate for the readjusted AI on respawns.”

  Frost grinned. He had to admit the strategy was brilliant. Simple but brilliant. He saw the barricades and Traps for what they were now. A maze. A maze that forced the mobs into three chokepoints.

  When the first few void beasts spilled from the openings, they triggered the Traps. Chain Lightning flared and crackled. Ice bloomed. Metal chains and shackles appeared, flying out to snare some of the creatures.

  All along the landing, the ranged attackers opened fire. Frost joined them. Beside him, Gilda, Saba, and Varia followed suit, their attacks resonating upon release.

  The abilities lit the air. Rain of Arrows, Glacial Eruptions, Flame Walls, Aether Bombs, Concussion Blasts, Divergence beams, Arc Lightnings, Static Fields, Lightning Cages, the translucent blades of Gusts and Whirlwinds exploded among the void beasts. Flash Freeze’s bluish white waves struck, freezing enemies and barriers alike.

  Any time a void beast stumbled or darted from the carnage, it fell to a red Piercer shot. Frost glanced over to see the cannoneer responsible. He was a human and a member of WaR. A demon mask hid his face. His weapon was sleek, long, and completely black like the armor he wore.