by David Petrie
Hanging wasn’t enough to kill in Noctem, but still, the psychological effect must have been devastating. At least she didn’t have to endure it for long. The other woman who had leaped from the rafters drew a pistol and fired three rounds, holstering it again within the space of a heartbeat. Kashka’s body hit the floor in a crumpled heap.
Amelia was stunned by the savagery of the attack, so much that she almost forgot to fight back. Then it was too late. As soon as she started to move, the twenty archers lining the room fired.
The force of the arrows threw Amelia back into her throne, where a few more pinned her down, sending a sensation of pain prickling through her entire body. It faded to a dull throb. She glanced at the readout tattooed on her wrist, finding a third of her health remaining. Somehow, she hadn’t taken enough damage to die. It was as if the arrows were fired with the intent of incapacitating, rather than killing.
She glared at Berwyn with as much intensity as she could muster. Then she laughed, her voice tinged with an unsettling rage. “You think this will stop me?” She fought against the arrows that held her back. “You may take my city but–”
“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re tough,” Berwyn interrupted her threats as he ascended to her immobilized body, “but you see, that’s the point. It wouldn’t be fun if you weren’t.” He leaned closer, his face only inches from hers as he touched her chin with one hand. Her flesh crawled as his fingertips slithered across her cheek. “It’s all about the struggle. About the chase.”
Suddenly, his fingers were pushed away by the cold energy of her cage as the barrier swept over her skin on reflex, forbidding him from touching her further.
Amelia gasped.
She had never needed to call on the ability before. She never thought she would. It had no purpose in combat. The cage was a failsafe that everyone had, meant to protect those younger and far more innocent than herself. In that moment, though, she was glad it was there. She didn’t want him touching her.
“Okay.” Berwyn laughed and clapped his hands, as if forcing her to use the ability gave him some kind of satisfaction. “I think we’re done here.” He turned and stepped back down from the throne, gesturing back at her. “Have at her.”
Two dozen bows fired as Amelia thought about what had happened. She was prepared to die but not to lose. The sickening sound of arrows hitting her body was the last thing she heard before the world of Noctem fell away.
Emily woke only ten minutes later, safe in her apartment in Salem, Massachusetts. She pulled off the slender headpiece that was her gateway to the game, Carpe Noctem, and tossed it aside. Apparently, it was late enough for her Somno to wake her up rather than respawning her back into Noctem.
She rolled over, pulling her comforter up around her head and groaned as she looked at the clock. It was already seven in the morning, and she had work in an hour. She groaned again, then sat up.
“I’ll have to plot my revenge on my lunch break.”
Chapter One
NIGHT ONE: THE PITCH
Clouds passed by as MaxDamage24 struggled to keep his focus on the cockpit window in front of him, his hands gripping the stick of his transport shuttle.
“Hey, Max?” Kirabell leaned on her hands, sitting like a child in the cushioned seat beside him. There was an excited sparkle in her eyes that didn’t match her tone, which was level. Almost too level.
Max suppressed his eyebrow to keep it from climbing up his forehead. She was acting suspiciously. The last thing he wanted was to give her anything that she might interpret as a response.
“Hey?” she tried again, her tone still a little too even.
He continued to ignore her and focused on piloting the ship. Landing still wasn’t his strongest skill. In the past, he’d sold off transports online for some quick money, so there wasn’t a need to learn to fly. They usually teleported everywhere anyway, but since the ship had been a part of his payment from Checkpoint Systems after completing that insane mission last year, he was uncomfortable selling it. Plus, it was cool, and he liked it.
The craft was well armored, with a comfortable cockpit surrounded by wide panes of rectangular glass that made for some impressive views. Wings tilted up from the back like a bird’s, each with an engine built in. Along with two additional engines attached below, that Kira had insisted were unnecessary, it was one of the fastest ships available.
The only thing he hated was the color. He’d wanted black, but his pint-sized partner had guilted him into letting her customize the outside, which was now a bright white. Like a happy cloud. At least he got to name it, sort of. He’d wanted to call the ship the Wind Breaker, but the consensus was that no one wanted to ride in something named after a fart joke. Thus, the Cloudbreaker took to the skies.
“Hey?” Kira leaned closer.
“No,” Max grumbled as he decreased the power to the levitation plate that ran the length of the ship’s underside.
“Hey, Max?”
“NO!”
Kira sunk back into her seat, pouting as Max cut the power.
He cringed as the craft dropped the last few feet before coming to a stop. Apparently, the ground wasn’t as close as he thought it was, but the maneuver still passed for a landing in his book.
The hum of the engines faded, leaving them in silence. Kira wasted no time in filling it with another, “Hey, Max?”
“What!” he shouted, knowing that it was exactly what she wanted him to do.
Kira smiled from ear to ear, her violet eyes sparkling. “Do you think I could raise my leather craft skill enough to make a belt out of wrist watches?”
Max sighed as heavy as he could, hunched over, placing his forehead on the console of toggle switches before him. “No, I don’t.”
For a moment, her smile faded. “Yeah, you’re probably right, it would probably be a waist of time.” With that, she looked straight at him with her mouth wide open, as if to ask, get it?
“Let’s go. It’s almost time.” Max ignored her joke and shifted in his chair to stand, causing the vinyl cushion to squeak in a way that was easily mistaken for something else.
Kira snorted at the sound.
“It was the chair!” Max defended, despite there being no other possibility since there was no need for a body to release gas in a virtual world. He wiggled back and forth anyway, unable to repeat the noise.
“It’s still funny.” Kira giggled as she turned to stand, producing an even more authentic squeak from her cushion.
“Nice, I should call you Kirasmell.”
“No way. I smell amazing.” She flipped her hair in his direction to give him an opportunity to see for himself.
Max ignored her and climbed out of his chair, leaving the fairy alone to smell herself. Of course, Noctem’s system didn’t process things like scents unless there was a sensory profile to load, like there was for some food items. Understanding that, whatever Kira smelled like, would depend on how Max’s mind perceived her. He sped up as he walked toward the door. He wasn’t about to admit that she smelled like freshly laundered sheets.
That would be awkward.
He stepped out on to the ground in the outskirts of Thrift, one of Noctem’s six major cities. Stone dragons decorated its walls, and the towers of Castle Garant peeked over in the distance. It would have been nice to have landed on the airship docks inside the city since they had a better view, but that meant a docking fee of one hundred credits. Sure, it wasn’t real money, but still, Max would rather spend it on bullets. Being a Fury class wasn’t cheap, after all. As a tradeoff, they could walk through the city’s moon flower gardens on the way in.
He passed under the wall’s circular entrance, it's carved dragons watching as Kirabell jogged to catch up, taking her place at his side. “It’s odd, right?”
“What is?” Max pulled a leather-bound journal and flipped to its map page, where a line inked itself from their location toward a waypoint located in the city.
Kira leaned over to see. “Like, wh
y would Alastair suddenly invite everyone from the quest last year out together. We haven’t heard from him in weeks. Why now? And why did he ask Farn to invite us for him instead of messaging us himself. And why would he pick karaoke of all things?”
“Well damn, Kira, when you say it like that, it sounds fishy as hell.” Max considered it as he stared off down the garden path. “He’s a busy guy though. Maybe he just wants to celebrate. It’s been almost a year since we all met. That seems like something he would want to make note of.”
“True.” Kira hopped ahead of him and looked back. “I’m just glad he didn’t pick a place in Torn. I don’t want to get anywhere near that mess.” She fell silent for a moment. “You ever been?”
Max snapped his journal shut and shoved it back into the item bag on his belt. “Been to where? To Torn? You know I have. We went there a week ago.”
Kira brushed his answer away with her hand. “No, not Torn. I meant to karaoke.”
“Nah. Not really my thing.”
“Oh.” Kira turned away to look at the iridescent flowers that lined their path.
Max raised an eyebrow. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” she spouted before betraying her answer with a, “Maybe.”
Max jumped on the opportunity, taking a few long strides to get a head of her, “Ha, is my snarky, little fairy nervous about singing in front of people?”
Kira rolled her eyes. “Yeah, so what? In the real world, I have a goofy voice. I couldn’t carry a tune, even if you gave me a bucket.”
Max stared at her in silence before finally letting out a sigh. “As much as I hate to make you feel better, considering the twenty minutes of dad jokes I had to endure on the way here, I will put your mind at ease. None of us care what you sound like.”
“Oh, thanks, you’re so helpful,” Kira forced through a layer of sarcasm.
Max kept walking. “It will be good to see everyone together again, though.
Kira perked up noticeably at the mention of the others. They had seen everyone pretty often over the year, especially Farnsworth, who had joined them on most nights and had taken over Max’s farming duties, but they hadn’t gotten everyone together all at once for months.
“I can’t believe it’s been almost a year already since Carver’s whole apocalypse thing.” Kira added air quotes on the word, apocalypse, which was what the group had been calling the mission that had brought them together. It seemed appropriate, after fighting the four horsemen.
“I can’t believe it either.” Max nudged her in the arm with his elbow. “Speaking of which, I know Ginger has been looking forward to seeing you.”
“Ugh.” Kira dropped her shoulders and folded her arms. “That’s just because she wants to organize a beach day and won’t go without me.”
“That sounds fun. You should go. You could get yourself a cute, little swimsuit.” Max gave her his most irritating grin.
“Yeah, no thanks. I do love swimming, but I’m not big on the idea of frolicking around in public without the rest of my gear on.”
“I guess I can see that.” Max stared off into the trees.
Kira glowered at him. “You’re picturing it now, aren’t you?”
“I plead the fifth.” He held up one hand.
“At least you’re honest.”
Max shrugged. “I saw everything you got to offer last year anyway.”
Kira covered her face with her hand. “Come on, man, you gotta stop reminding me of that.”
Max laughed. He’d noticed that his partner had been dressing a little more feminine lately. He assumed it had something to do with the fact that she’d had to save the world in a frilly, white gown the year before. In the months since, she’d stopped wearing pants altogether in favor of a sleeveless dress with a hood and a window cut out in the back for her wings. According to her, it was easier to move in than her old gear.
Although, judging from the pair of tight shorts that she wore underneath, she was still worried about an uncooperative wind blowing in. It must have been her way of maintaining some of her real-world counterpart’s masculinity, an effort that was undone by her next statement of, “Aww, cute,” as they entered the street beyond the city’s garden.
Kira bounced over to a small bakery to the side where she smooshed her face into the glass. She leaned in to look the goods on display, inadvertently putting her own goods on display as she bent over with her rear in Max’s direction. He ignored it—with a relative degree of success.
“No time for snacks. Besides I’m sure there’ll be plenty at the bar.” He crossed his arms and kept walking.
“But they look so fluffy.” She pointed at a row of small buns, baked into the shape of a lagopin, the crust on top suggesting the shape of long ears and a pair of wings.
“We’re still not stopping.”
Kira blew out a huff. “Fine, but we’re coming back on the way out.”
“Whatever.”
Kira nodded before throwing in another, “Hey, Max?” under his radar.
“Yeah?” he responded, releasing the trap just as the words left his mouth.
Kira gave him a bright smile. “Do you think they have other pastries? I cannoli imagine the possibilities.
Max let out yet another a heavy sigh. “Why are you like this?”
Chapter Two
Max arrived under a sign featuring a vertical line of letters in another language that he didn’t recognize. He glanced down to Kira, who gave him a shrug, then checked the waypoint in his journal. They were in the right place. He plucked his inspector out of the back cover of the book and held the rectangle of glass in front of the sign. The word karaoke appeared, using the item’s translator. He returned Kira’s shrug and stepped inside.
Max expected to find a dim bar with a small stage, like what he’d seen on TV, but instead, they were greeted at a well-lit front desk by a polite reynard woman with fluffy, white ears. He leaned one elbow on the counter. “Hey, we’re here to meet Alastair Coldblood.”
The woman checked a page in a book in front of her for the ridiculous name of Checkpoint’s CEO. “Sorry, I don’t have any reservations under that name.” She closed the book with a smile, then ran her eyes over him, letting them travel to his partner beside him. “I do have one for a Farnsworth, though.”
Max jerked his arm off the counter and took a step back. He had thought that the woman had been an NPC. Most of the desk clerks in Noctem were, but from the knowing smile that she gave him, he was certain she was real. His mind began processing the situation. If she was real, then she was probably a Checkpoint Systems employee posing as an NPC.
What the hell did we walk into?
Max couldn’t help but flash back to that night a year ago when he and Kira had walked blindly into a tavern’s back room after receiving an anonymous message.
Kira took a step closer to his side.
Max hesitated. The smart thing to do was to turn and walk right back out the way they came. He didn’t. Instead, he offered a weak, “Oh, that must be it,” at the suggestion of Farnsworth’s reservation.
The woman smiled back at him. “Great, she hasn’t arrived yet, but a couple members of your party are already waiting in box sixteen. It’s down the end on the right.”
Max took a breath and started walking down the hall. “Something’s up.”
“Yup,” Kira offered with little enthusiasm.
“It can’t be anything too bad, right?” Max tried not to let his imagination get the better of him as he put his hand on the handle of a door marked with a silver sixteen. “I mean, Alastair’s not a bad guy.”
“True,” Kira leaned her head to one side, “but we should probably stop trusting him so easily. We’re pretty easy to trick, as it turns out.”
Max entered into a small room lined with somewhat comfortable looking couches on three walls, the kind of furniture that you wouldn’t sink into too far, making it easy to get up and down, and a large pane of glass hovered on one wall near the do
or above a single chair. They weren’t the first to arrive.
Taking up the seats closest to one corner, were a Leaf and a Blade.
The Leaf, Kegan, sat so casually that it seemed to take effort. The well-tanned elf had his feet up with his hands behind his head, looking pretty much the same as usual. His black hair was still streaked with maroon and spiked up on the side like a character from an old JRPG. His sleeveless tunic and loose pants seemed comfortable, even with the large number of sashes wrapped around his waist. The only thing missing was his bow, which he must have stored in his inventory to save space in the small room.
Corvin, on the other hand, had done nothing but change through the year. He’d been climbing levels so fast after starting over as a Blade class that Max could hardly believe he had been the same timid player that they’d slain nightmares with the year before. Hell, he’d had a new set of gear almost every time Max had seen him.
Corvin had also updated his avatar to represent his age closer. He was almost twenty after all, and he’d only been sixteen back when he created the character. The result was a mid-level reynard, far more badass than before. His black pants were reinforced with leather plates, while a matching hooded vest lined with white fur covered a plain gray tunic. Instead of the fabric wrap that he’d used to cover his basilisk eye, he now wore a small, leather eye patch at an angle. Black scales peeked out from underneath. Even his hair was longer, tied back loosely with leather cord. The only thing that he’d left alone was his tall black fox ears and fluffy tail.
“What level are you now?” Kira looked him over, clearly impressed.
“I, ah,” he stammered before answering, ruining his new image, “seventy-seven.”
“Nice, you’re halfway to catching up to us. We’ll be able to play together in no time.”
“Hope so.” He nodded just before they were interrupted by a blur rushing through the door. It streaked across the room at record speed, leaping over Kegan’s outstretched legs and capturing Kira in a tight embrace.